Funnily enough, all this digging up and soldering together helped produce a heady, signature sound that crossed genre borders — dubstep (somewhat sadly) slimmed down its postapocalyptic multiculti bombast and became more psychedelic and introspective; future bass ripped a few bong hits and got more soulful; minimal techno astringency disappeared into full-on sing-along melodies; indie acts like Toro Y Moi, Delorean, Caribou, and Crystal Castles embraced rave and glitch aesthetics; abrasive hardcore electro and filter house politely fled the scene. The overall effect was breezy, brainy, and Balearic.
And yes, somewhat monolithic. Pity the poor fool who tried to be different. The overheated reaction to the coining of "witch house" as a genre — think glitchy crunk beats distorted with spooky effects and the occasional static-masked rap — showed that the current scene has no taste for standouts (perhaps that's why there was no world-dominant club this year as well). We'll see how well "moombahton" (don't ask) fares in the coming months, but for now it's enough to navigate the smart, chill wave cresting on SF dancefloors. We're all CEO, bitches.