The evolution of music genres is a dynamic process, reflecting shifts in technology, culture, and artistic ambition. One of the most intriguing transformations in recent electronic music history is the journey from happy hardcore, a high-energy subgenre of 1990s rave culture, to hyperpop, a maximalist, genre-defying microgenre that has captured the zeitgeist of the digital age. While happy hardcore emerged as an ecstatic, communal sound rooted in the rave scene, hyperpop represents a fragmented, internet-driven aesthetic that pushes pop music to surreal extremes. Happy hardcore, also known as 4-beat or happycore, emerged in the early 1990s as a subgenre of hardcore dance music, primarily in the UK, Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands. It was a direct offshoot of the breakbeat hardcore rave scene, distinguished by its upbeat, euphoric sound, typically clocking in at 160-180 beats per minute (BPM). Unlike its darker, more aggressive cousin gabber, happy hardcore combined fast-paced 4/4 kick drums with breakbeats, piano riffs, and uplifting vocals, often evoking a sense of communal joy and escapism. Tracks like Scooter’s “Hyper Hyper” (1994) and Blümchen’s “Herz an Herz” (1996) exemplify the genre’s signature elements: relentless tempos, catchy melodies, and an unapologetic embrace of “cheesy” aesthetics. Scooter’s “Hyper Hyper,” with its shouted vocal hooks and frenetic synth stabs, captured the raw energy of the rave scene, while Blümchen’s work added a layer of pop accessibility, blending sugary melodies with hardcore’s intensity. These tracks were designed for the dancefloor, fueling all-night raves where participants sought transcendence through relentless rhythm and melody. The genre’s accessibility—its reliance on simple, repetitive structures and emotive vocals—made it a populist force, appealing to a broad audience of ravers seeking euphoria in a post-industrial world. Happy hardcore’s roots in rave culture are crucial to understanding its influence on hyperpop. The rave scene of the 1990s was a cultural phenomenon, driven by underground communities that embraced DIY ethos, technological innovation, and hedonistic rebellion against mainstream norms. The genre’s use of affordable music production tools, like early digital audio workstations (DAWs) and samplers, democratized music creation, allowing producers to craft tracks in home studios. This DIY spirit, coupled with the genre’s playful irreverence, laid the groundwork for hyperpop’s later emergence. However, happy hardcore was also criticized for its perceived lack of depth—its “cheesy” vocals and simplistic structures were often dismissed as juvenile by critics who favored the darker, more experimental strains of electronic music like jungle or techno. This tension between accessibility and artistic credibility would resurface in hyperpop, albeit in a more self-aware form. The transition from happy hardcore to hyperpop was not a linear progression but rather a complex interplay of technological advancements, cultural shifts, and genre hybridization. By the late 1990s, happy hardcore began to wane as the rave scene fragmented, giving way to new electronic subgenres like trance and drum and bass. However, its influence persisted in underground scenes, particularly in the nightcore movement of the early 2000s. Nightcore, a style characterized by speeding up and pitch-shifting existing pop and dance tracks, retained happy hardcore’s high BPM and euphoric energy but adapted it for the internet age. Tracks like Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” (2005), with its accelerated tempo and saccharine vocals, echo happy hardcore’s aesthetic while embracing a more polished, pop-oriented sound. Nightcore’s DIY ethos, facilitated by free software like Audacity, allowed bedroom producers to remix mainstream tracks, creating a proto-hyperpop sound that thrived on platforms like SoundCloud and YouTube. This online dissemination was a critical step, as it shifted the context of music consumption from physical raves to virtual spaces, aligning with the internet-driven culture that would define hyperpop. The early 2010s marked a pivotal moment in this evolution with the emergence of PC Music, a UK-based record label founded by A. G. Cook. PC Music is widely regarded as the cradle of hyperpop, and its aesthetic owes a clear debt to happy hardcore’s exaggerated, playful energy. PC Music artists like SOPHIE, Hannah Diamond, and GFOTY took the maximalist tendencies of happy hardcore—its bright synths, accelerated tempos, and cutesy vocals—and pushed them to new extremes, often with a layer of irony and surrealism. SOPHIE’s “Bipp” (2013), for example, features metallic, bouncing synths and heavily processed vocals that evoke the frenetic energy of happy hardcore while introducing a futuristic, almost alien soundscape. The track’s minimalist structure and exaggerated production techniques—such as extreme pitch-shifting and distortion—mark a departure from happy hardcore’s straightforward dancefloor functionality, instead offering a commentary on pop music itself. PC Music’s output, often described as “bubblegum bass,” retained happy hardcore’s accessibility but infused it with a postmodern sensibility, blending influences from J-pop, trance, and 2000s internet culture. The term “hyperpop” was coined in 2019 by Spotify editor Glenn McDonald to describe a playlist featuring artists like 100 gecs, Charli XCX, and A. G. Cook, cementing the genre’s identity. Hyperpop, as it emerged, is characterized by an exaggerated take on pop music, incorporating elements of electronic, hip-hop, rock, and dance music, often with a self-referential or satirical edge. Unlike happy hardcore, which was rooted in the physicality of the rave, hyperpop is a product of the internet, shaped by platforms like TikTok, SoundCloud, and Discord. Its aesthetic is chaotic, blending brash synths, Auto-Tuned vocals, and glitchy effects to create a “cartoonish wall of noise” that is both catchy and disorienting. 100 gecs’ “Money Machine” (2019) is a quintessential example, with its distorted bass, pitch-shifted vocals, and genre-hopping structure that shifts from trap to ska to EDM within a single track. The song’s absurdity—lyrics like “Hey, you wanna see something really cool?” paired with abrasive production—echoes happy hardcore’s unapologetic excess while embracing a fragmented, meme-driven aesthetic. Charli XCX’s role in bridging happy hardcore’s legacy to hyperpop cannot be overstated. Her 2016 EP *Vroom Vroom*, produced by SOPHIE, marked a turning point, blending happy hardcore’s high-energy beats with PC Music’s avant-garde sensibilities. Tracks like “Vroom Vroom” feature pounding basslines and metallic percussion reminiscent of happy hardcore’s intensity, but their polished production and ironic lyrical tone align them with hyperpop’s meta-commentary on pop music. Charli’s 2024 album *Brat* further solidified hyperpop’s mainstream potential, with tracks like “Von Dutch” combining club-ready beats with a raw, confessional edge. *Brat*’s commercial success, peaking at number 3 on the Billboard 200 and inspiring cultural phenomena like “Brat Summer,” demonstrates hyperpop’s ability to transcend its underground origins, much as happy hardcore briefly crossed into mainstream European charts in the 1990s. While happy hardcore and hyperpop share a lineage of maximalist energy and accessibility, their differences reflect their respective cultural contexts. Happy hardcore was a product of rave culture’s communal ethos, designed to unite dancers in a shared experience of euphoria. Its simplicity was its strength, but also its limitation, as critics often dismissed it as lacking sophistication. Hyperpop, by contrast, is a product of the internet age, characterized by fragmentation and self-awareness. Its artists, many of whom are queer or trans, use the genre to challenge norms around gender, identity, and consumer culture, as seen in Dorian Electra’s *Flamboyant* (2019), which satirizes masculinity with exaggerated vocals and glitchy production. Hyperpop’s embrace of “lowbrow” aesthetics—drawing from happy hardcore’s “cheesy” vocals, as well as chiptune, emo rap, and K-pop—reflects a rejection of traditional genre boundaries, aligning with Vice journalist Eli Enis’s description of hyperpop as a “shared ethos of transcending genre altogether”. The role of technology in this evolution is critical. Happy hardcore relied on early DAWs and samplers, which allowed producers to create tracks quickly and affordably. Hyperpop takes this further, with tools like Serum and Massive X enabling producers to craft complex, distorted textures. The accessibility of software like GarageBand and Audacity has democratized hyperpop production, allowing artists like ElyOtto to create viral hits like “SugarCrash!” (2020) from their bedrooms. The song’s frenetic tempo, distorted vocals, and nostalgic references to 2000s internet culture echo happy hardcore’s energy while embodying hyperpop’s chaotic, meme-driven aesthetic. TikTok’s role in amplifying hyperpop cannot be ignored; its algorithm favored the genre’s heavy beats and short, catchy structures, making tracks like “SugarCrash!” ideal for dance videos and transitions. However, hyperpop’s rapid rise has sparked debates about its longevity and authenticity. By 2020, some artists, including Charli XCX, began rejecting the hyperpop label, arguing it pigeonholed their work. Critics like Kieran Press-Reynolds have noted that hyperpop’s initial momentum waned post-COVID, as artists like SOPHIE and 100 gecs resisted mainstream fame, and the genre’s practitioners pursued conflicting visions. This mirrors happy hardcore’s decline in the late 1990s, when its novelty faded, and new genres emerged. Yet, hyperpop’s influence persists in subgenres like digicore and dariacore, which continue to push boundaries with chaotic, sample-heavy production. Jane Remover’s work under the alias leroy, for instance, blends hyperpop with hardcore and nightcore influences, creating a sound that feels both nostalgic and futuristic. Critically, hyperpop’s evolution from happy hardcore raises questions about the commodification of subcultures. Happy hardcore’s populist appeal made it vulnerable to mainstream co-optation, as seen in its brief chart success in Europe. Hyperpop, similarly, has been shaped by streaming platforms like Spotify, whose playlists codify and market the genre, often against artists’ wishes. The Spotify “Hyperpop” playlist, launched in 2019, played a pivotal role in defining the genre but also sparked controversy by including mainstream artists like Nicki Minaj, diluting the underground ethos. This tension between subcultural authenticity and commercial success echoes happy hardcore’s struggles, suggesting that both genres, despite their rebellious origins, are inevitably shaped by the platforms that amplify them.