deadmau5 is well-known as one of EDM’s most irascible figures: His rants are legendary, his feuds are legion, and he even pokes fun at himself in titles that double as wearily self-aware in-jokes (a 2018 collection of orchestral reworks of his music is called u003cIu003ewhere’s the drop?u003c/Iu003e). At the same time, the Toronto producer (born Joel Zimmerman in 1981) is responsible for some of the most sentimental EDM of the 21st century, draping wistful melodies and spine-tingling counterpoints over rock-steady progressive-house grooves. He got his start in the '90s, turning out lo-fi club tracks with rudimentary software, and by the mid-2000s, he’d parlayed his skills into a powerfully punchy take on electro-house, putting gargantuan synth sounds atop jacking drum-machine rhythms. But his 2008 album, u003cIu003eRandom Album Titleu003c/Iu003e, marked his first major breakthrough: The squelchy “Sometimes Things Get, Whatever” captured a newfound sense of fun, while the Kaskade collaboration “I Remember” took his melodic instincts to wistful new heights. With 2009’s u003cIu003eFor Lack of a Better Nameu003c/Iu003e, he just kept pushing outward—“Ghosts ’n’ Stuff,” featuring Pendulum’s Rob Swire, is a thrilling fusion of alt-rock and EDM—even as tracks like “Strobe” doubled down on his classically inspired melodic gifts. Since then, he’s gotten noisier (“Sofi Needs a Ladder”), flirted with dubstep (“Raise Your Weapon”), experimented with ambient (“Coelacanth I”) and techno (as Testpilot), dabbled in disco (“Cat Thruster”), and doled out more than his share of floor-fillers (“Imaginary Friends,” “4ware,” “Phantoms Can’t Hang”). Throughout it all, he’s remained one of electronic music's most reliable artists—a notoriously self-critical figure whose admitted neuroses further fuel his excellence.