“Balearic” is the dad-joke that keeps on giving. The word is the name of a Spanish island chain. It’s also a 1980s Ibiza DJing sensibility. It’s also a shorthand for a whole aesthetic — fashion, design, architecture, travel — and at the same time it’s the bargain-bin chillout CD your aunt had in the 90s.
Never Mind The Balearics is a reference to all of that. It’s also (yes, hello) a play on Never Mind the Bollocks. So when we say a track is Balearic, we don’t mean it sounds like a sunset. We mean it could fit on a set that goes from reggae and dub to post-punk, classic soul, ravey house, novelty jungle at 3pm, and a folk record on a packed floor at midnight.
Increasingly the word is less about a genre and more about a spirit of eclecticism. It’s about surprises, weird danceability, heavyweight bass. The dancefloor as a place where someone who likes Talk Talk and someone who likes Talking Heads can both go off to the same record.
The honest answer to “is it Balearic?” is usually: ask again in five minutes.