Like any good music scene, chip music is a movement with a philosophy. Rooted in the aesthetics of classic video games and competitive computer graphics demos, the contents of that philosophy vary from person to person. To me it’s always been about the idea that our technology is only as useful as we make it; that our fetishization of the new and the shiny has blinded us from the dormant capability and beauty sitting right in front of us, sleeping inside our once-cherished childhood toys. More importantly, it’s also about the diversity of ideas that emerge from that ambiguous ethos. And there’s nowhere that variety is more pronounced than at Blip Festival, the largest chip music festival on the planet.

Started seven years ago by a tiny group of devotees in New York City, Blip Festival has put hundreds of performers in front of roaring crowds at 11 festivals across four continents. The music here doesn’t fit snugly into any kind of category or genre — it ranges from delightfully absurd to spellbinding and sublime; from low-fi trance and punk rock to country-western, J-pop, and everything in between. It’s been the subject of a full-length documentary, Reformat The Planet; an anything-goes celebration of high quality, low-tech audiovisual splendor that has inspired countless offshoot events around the world.