Review: Those Who Know They Know 2025

Those Who Know They Know returned to Mumbai’s NSCI Dome on Saturday, June 28, bringing the kind of energy that didn’t need much posturing. For all its ‘secret-party’ and line-up-under-wraps mystique, the lighting lacked theatre, the visuals felt recycled from last year, and the tables came aggressively monetized—but for those of us who came to shut up and dance, none of that really mattered past 10 PM.

This was my first proper event at the Dome, and I’ll admit—after years of dragging myself out of gigs with random bruises, claustrophobia, and a persistent cough—it was refreshing to be inside a large-scale Mumbai venue that actually respected audience comfort. Entry was smooth, bar and washroom queues were manageable, and there was enough elbow room for full-body movement even at the front rows (a rarity in this city). While it didn’t have the tight-knit intimacy of a warehouse rave, there was a healthy mix of attendees—college kids sporting flash tats, corporate escapees in black techwear, and unbothered 40-somethings who clearly hadn’t missed Sunburn season since 2008. As for our crew of three, we flitted between groups and found our rhythm just as the venue hit its 10:30 PM peak.

The night’s breakout set was undeniably Almost Human—a Sunburn India regular who, for all the event’s hype, delivered the most consistent energy and crowd control. St. Petersburg duo Goom Gum may have been the marquee act, but outside of the initial roar when their set was announced, it didn’t land as a defining moment, at least for me. The transition between sets was seamless throughout, but there was no real build-up or narrative arc—just a steady climb and plateau of 120 BPM+ energy.

Where the night stumbled was in its much-touted visual experience. The 3D HOLO projections felt more like a slideshow highlight reel than anything truly interactive or music-synced; something made worse by the lack of a visible DJ to follow along with. On further inspection, the day after, some graphics were redos from TWKTK’s 2024 edition, which wasn’t lost on the repeat crowd. A quartet of background dancers briefly flickered into view with LED-strip fits, but it felt more like filler than a feature.

For a property that claims to blend music, art, and innovation, this edition leaned heavily on the “music” part of that equation—and that, too, only if you were standing close enough to care. Because the lineup was kept entirely under wraps until the acts hit the stage, it became oddly difficult for groups to plan their night. With no clear anchor point, most people just showed up “whenever,” which, in practice, meant a mass arrival around 9:30 PM—long after the show had technically kicked off. A black-red visual motif from the marketing bled into the stage design, but there wasn’t much beyond that to suggest a cohesive aesthetic. Tarot readings and a Bombay Shaving Company booth near the VIP entrance added a bit of fever-dream surrealism every time you stepped out for a drink, but otherwise, it was a straightforward dance party with a sprinkle of sponsorship. General Admission felt like an afterthought next to the VIP section’s elevated view and smoother access—something worth remembering for next year’s edition, already announced for May 30, 2026.

So what did TWKTK 2025 tell us about India’s electronic music scene? Not much, except that demand is still high, expectations still flexible, and a decent sound system plus (the promise of) a headliner or two is enough to pack the house. The night delivered what it promised on the surface, even if it didn’t scratch any deeper itches for immersion or innovation. Would I go again? Maybe. The music’s just about worth the price of entry, but if the visuals don’t catch up, I’ll be keeping my hand fan and my ankles at home.