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End of transmission

For 2007, that is. I'm off now to take a well-deserved break until the new year, unplugging the computer, disconnecting the internet, spending some quality family time. The past 12 months have been a great time for me on a personal and musical level and I hope that the next year will be full of the same rewards. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who visited and read the site, debated, disagreed and insulted me in the comments section: without you, the site is a far quieter (and less interesting) place. Hope you can keep tuned in for '08: I have some really exciting stuff in the pipeline that I should be able to share with you soon. Have a peaceful one and see you all on the other side...

Geek speak (slight return)

Here are some tell-tale signs of an interview that’s gone bad:

When the interviewee says he/she wants ‘to take it to the next level’;

When the interviewee says he/she wants to make an album that has ‘songs, different styles and real musicians’ on it; you’re a bloody techno dj, get on with it;

When the interviewee refers to himself/herself in the third person (it has happened a few times);

When the interviewee provides one-word answers, dribbles and then falls asleep mid-interview;

When the interviewee gets up and goes to the toilet at three-minute intervals;

When the interviewee flies a small plane to the interview and nearly crashes it en route;

When the interviewee, who at first was charming and chatty, asks you to call back after he’s had his ‘dinner’, but who turns into an obnoxious oaf in the ‘post-dinner’ chat (maybe he thought the film was crap and he had to slash the seats?);

When the interviewee demands to see the article before it is published and when this is refused, says he wouldn’t have done the interview if he had known this would be refused – hello, Abe Duque.

When the interviewee is Moby;

When the interviewee says at the start ‘you have five minutes of my time, mate’ (Grooverider said this to me years ago: interesting to note now that he is likely to give Dubai four years of his time).

Geek speak

I'm in the middle of doing a load of interviews before taking a well-deserved break until the new year. All of the people I'm talking to are producers I rate, some more than others, including a number of names who released my favourite records in '07. However, one problem I'm encountering, almost without exception, is what to ask them. Don't get me wrong, I can be talkative when I want to, but due to the volume of the interviews I'm trying to complete (15 in total), most of are taking place via e-mail, where the flow of informal chit-chat and conversation is lost, supplanted by questions that make the process look like a formal interrogation. Still, this should not deflect from the main problem: I have been doing this for years and although I still have the same passion, it never gets easier, mainly because it's difficult to describe techno in words and the people who make it are well, kind of normal, anonymous types. There is only so much one can talk to your favourite producer about their best record, how they made it, what software they prefer, etc, until you get to the point where it descends into geek-speak. It's no surprise then that my favourite interviews are with those few DJs/producers who can talk about their personal lives, discuss other, wider issues or aren't afraid to make their opinions known in a fortright way.
Maybe it's because techno rarely features vocals (although asking a pop star about the banal lyrics that someone else has written for them is far duller) and its essence is so abstract - I'm also a fan of modern/abstract art and the other day watched a critic on TV trying and inevitably failing to appraise work by Pollock and other abstract expressionists: believe me, I felt for him - that makes writing about techno similar to 'dancing to architecture'.

Test the industry

I'm writing a feature at the moment about remixers and of all the people I've spoken to for it, Andrew Weatherall delivers the best quotes. When asked about doing remixes for major labels, here's his reply - as spot on as ever.
"The returns on remixing can still be good, but laziness and obvious thinking are the ways that the majors are hoping to survive. It’s much more important for them now than ever before not to take risks. The music industry used to annoy me, but now I see it as just another industry selling a commodity, like baked beans, so it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Glimmer of hope

By now, even someone who has been living under a very big rock will be aware that Radiohead made their current album available for download on the internet and asked their fans to donate what they felt was the right amount. Reports vary as to how much the band earned (or didn't earn), but there is no doubt that the traditional major label model is nearing the end of its days. Will electronic music follow the same route as the Radioheads of this world? It's hard to say yet: given the popularity of Beatport etc, and the fact that the artist album as a concept and a format seems to be in decline in electronic music anyway, maybe DJs and producers will stop releasing long players alltogether. However, maybe some will follow the example of Belgian duo The Glimmers. Instead of charging punters, they are giving away copies of their next artist album - which features collaborations with Optimo, Arthur Baker and Princess Superstar - for free with the February issue of DJ Magazine. The Glimmers will also be asking promoters for a slight increase in their DJ fee, and will hand out free copies of the album to everyone in the audience at their gigs. Some people may question them for creating an alternative distribution network with a structure that relies in part on a print magazine, part of 'traditional' media, but their ability and that of the magazine's to think outside the box (the arrangement is likely to boost DJ Mag's circulation) is laudable. Wonder who will come up with the next alternative to the label-distributor-fan model?

Warming Up

Here's my latest mix, 'The Warm Up', recorded at home last week. It's pretty much what I played during my support slot for Jay Haze a few weeks back, with a few adjustments and alterations. Hope you enjoy it!

Therre Thaemlitz: She's Hard (Mule)
Claro Intelecto: Dependent (Modern Love)
Maurizio: M7 (M7)
Round Three feat. Tikiman: Acting Crazy (Main Street)
Branst & Nurnberg: Delicious (Liebe Detail)
Sideshow: African Cheri (Aus)
Kissogram: My Friend is a Sea Horse (Priestley & Berkson remix) (Def Drive)
Plasmik: 8 to 9 (Conaisseur)
Oliver Hacke: Schoener Wohnen (Trapez)
Touane: Chamber (Liebe Detail)
Claro Intelecto: Thieves (Modern Love)
Pigon: Promises (Dial)
Arne Weinberg: Parabolum (AW)
Richard Davis: Cold Hard Facts (Was not Was)
Tobias: Below Houston (Logistic)
2000 & One: Work (Podium)
Caulfield: Outside (Ware)

No Future?

I've just done a review of a reissue of War of the Worlds by Dark Comedy aka Kenny Larkin and it prompted me to think about how far electronic music has progressed in the 15 year since its original release. In most cases, I'd argue that it hasn't come that far. For anyone who isn't familiar with 'War', it combines epic, widescreen chords that inavariably create a feeling of optimism - it almost feels like the track is saying 'welcome to the future, it's great to be here isn't it?' - over a soaring, pulsing bassline that also evokes images of a greater, happier society. It's much less introspective and more uplifting than techno often is, and when you first hear it, it sounds like a piece of music that should always have existed in your life but until now has been missing. How come so little music nowadays fails to achieve this effect? ( this is just a personal observation - maybe everyone else feels differently) Maybe Larkin's vision was too optimistic; possibly it has to do with wider societal issues - the world has become a far darker place since the early 90s and our collective gloominess and world-weariness means that we are less enthusiastic towards new music; the availability of digital technology to make music means that there is a lot more music out there that sounds similar and that the wow factor is missing, or that with age, we get more and more cynical - or possibly just selective. Having said all that, this theory is open to contradiction all the time - new works by Cristian Vogel, Thomas Melchior (I've just bought 'No Disco Future') and Burial (ditto for 'Untrue') still make me think 'what the fuck is that and how did he do it' and all open doors to new possibilties. Maybe the future is still as bright as it was in 1992- what do you think? What music / artists have this effect on you nowadays?

Bleep of faith

Recently, I've been listening again to records with loads of bleeps in them. From the recent Donnacha Costello compilation through an evaluation process of older music that saw me immersed in the raw sounds of Neil Landsrtrumm's 90s album, 'Bedrooms & Cities' (there are also loads of bleeps on this year's album on Planet Mu) as well as a brand new record by Function on Sandwell District (which I urge you to buy), the past few weeks has all been about shifting tones and tweaked frequencies. As a way of marking my respect for the original bleepster, here's an interview I did with Mark Bell from LFO in 2003. Although the 'Sheath' album was low on the bleep-o-meter, the preceding single, 'Freak', made the glut of electro house that ensued after its release sound like weak-assed muck. Anyway, happy reading!

To paraphrase one of their greatest releases, LFO are back. Or perhaps that should read LFO is back. After a lengthy absence, the pioneering UK techno act – which now only constitutes Mark Bell – have returned with a new single, ‘Freak’ and album, ‘Sheath’. So what has been going on since the Leeds duo released their last album, ‘Advance’ in 1996?
“After we finished the last album, we both wanted to do something different,” explains Bell. “Bjork asked me to work with her, so I did that and Gez (Varley), the other member of LFO wanted to do more straightforward club tracks. LFO is very personal to me and was always my baby – I’m not saying Gez was LFO’s Bez, but I made over 90% of the music on our first two albums – so he agreed I should have the name. We didn’t have a big punch up, but that might have been fun!”
The more mature reader may remember LFO as one of the first UK acts to take electronic US music – techno, house, hip-hop and electro - and make it their own with definitive, system leveling basslines, bleepy sounds and pioneering, hypnotic grooves.
Tunes like ‘LFO’ (which made it into the Top 20) ‘We Are Back’ and ‘What Is House?’ were among the first British techno tracks to be played in clubs and were responsible for converting a whole generation to the joys of dance music.
LFO’s bass heavy anthems also showed that it was possible for European DJs and aspiring producers to emulate the underground electronic music emanating from Chicago, New York and Detroit with a minimal studio set-up.
Indeed, Bell’s own acquisition of the rudimentary technological tools needed to make their trademark bleep techno came from an unusual source.
“I’ve been messing about with machines since I was 13,” he says. “It all started because my first girlfriend’s dad had an 808 drum machine. He was using it for a backing beat for these terrible ballad versions of tracks like ‘Lady In Red’. I bought it from him for 30 quid and I haven’t stopped making music since.”
Armed with this second hand gear, the duo’s groundbreaking debut album, ‘Frequencies’ was released at the start of the 90s - when Bell was just 19.
While he admits he was thrown in at the deep end of the music industry, he nonetheless believes that not much has changed.
“It doesn’t seem that long ago and I didn’t grow up that much either! Actually, I never saw myself doing music for a living, I wanted to do graphics. I suppose it all happened by accident really.”
Despite LFO’s happy-go-lucky approach, Bell’s production skills had caught the attention of Icelandic pop star Bjork, who tried on a few occasions to enlist Bell’s services.
“When she left The Sugarcubes she asked me to work on her ‘Debut’ album, but I didn’t have the time,” Mark recalls. “I ended up working on her ‘Homogenic’ album in Spain for five months and we had a great laugh.”
Bell also produced the singer’s ‘Selma Songs’, the soundtrack to the award-winning ‘Dancer In The Dark’ movie, which Bjork also starred in.
Although he was unfazed by the move from the relative techno anonymity of LFO to becoming the producer for big name acts – “the people I’ve worked with let me do what I do, the main difference with producing is I have real deadlines to keep”- Bell admits that occasionally, he felt nervous.
“I totally shat myself when Bjork played at the Oscars,” he admits. “She was singing and I was about 15 feet away, wearing a tuxedo and playing some electronic stuff on stage. Al the time, I was thinking that 800 million people were watching me! The audience was lit up so I could see John Travolta, Jack Nicholson and the star of ‘Sex In The City’ staring at me thinking ‘what the fuck is he doing with that silly machine?’”
Apart from his ongoing working relationship with Bjork, Bell also produced the last Depeche Mode album, ‘Exciter’. Although he grew up idolizing the Basildon synth act, he believes that the strangest situations occurred outside the recording studio.
“The thing about working with big acts is that you’re sent to huge, over the top studio complexes, to the kind of places J.Lo records in, but I don’t mind, I just get on with it,” Bell says. "I work fast, so it doesn’t get boring. It only gets difficult when the songs are shit, but luckily I haven’t had many of them,” he adds. “The only odd thing about working with Depeche Mode was them asking for time off or asking me where we’ll go for food!”
Despite these commitments, Bell says he never stopped working as LFO – and has a portable set-up with him wherever he goes.
However, given that it took him seven years to produce ‘Sheath’, the 47-minute follow up to ‘Advance’, something doesn’t add up.
““Luckily, I’m in the position where my production work has put me in a situation where I don’t need to release music to make a living anymore, but I still make music all the time, “Mark maintains.
“I’ve got hard drives full of all sorts of crap and CDs all over my studio full of music, but when it comes to actually releasing it, it feels like a job,” he adds. “I remember reading a magazine article about the do’s and don’ts of releasing an album and that haunted me for years. I thought if someone chose some tracks and released them that would be the easiest solution. So a friend of mine who was making cassette compilations of my music anyway came in and chose all the tracks for the album.”
At one end of the ‘Sheath’ spectrum there’s the punky, electronic howl of ‘Mum-man’, the rave inflected ‘Snot’, the visceral grind of ‘Mummy, I’ve Had An Accident’ and the primal bleep-bass groove of single ‘Freak’, while at the other end, there’s hissing ambience on ‘Blown’ a haunting, woodwind track, ‘Nevertheless’ and the atmospheric soundtrack of ‘Moistly’.
Despite its brevity, ‘Sheath’ is a diverse work, full of darin attitude and raw energy.
“It’s only 47 minutes long, but has a wide range and it’s not too self-indulgent,” Mark observes. “I could have put out an LP’s worth of ‘Freak’, but if you’re going to release an album you need diversity. I don’t have the patience to sit through 70 minutes of a sub-sub genre, there has to be something fresh all the time.
“‘Premacy’, one of the tracks on ‘Sheath’ is nearly six years old. I really enjoyed listening to them all again, even if I can’t remember making some of them! For each different track on the album, there’s about 20 or 30 similar tracks lying around in the studio,” Mark reveals.
Promotional copies of ‘Sheath’ were sent out on cassette – the album fits neatly onto one side – but using this old school format wasn’t a coincidence.
He’s not a fan of MP3s and Bell won’t use or praise technology for technology’s sake. In fact, he thinks that the increased availability of music making technology has stymied creativity - and blames it for stagnation in electronic music.
“There are so many producers using software to produce and so much of it is music by numbers. People think modern electronic music is experimental but it’s not, the tones and frequencies were explored 60 years ago and it’s just generic, music-by-numbers. The difference between making music with software and working a track through machines is like playing football with a Playstation and playing football in your local park, there’s no attitude or human touch” Mark says, warming to the subject.
“It’s especially noticeable in techno, where people seem scared to progress. I’m not being a revisionist, but listen to the old Relief records and, although every track is clubby it’s also memorable,” he points out.
“However, if you go to a techno night, you hear the same track over and over again without any variation. It’s like the surprise and fun elements have gone and they’re trying to regurgitate the past in a narrowly defined way. They’ve wasted an opportunity to be creative.”
Against this mediocre backdrop, Mark Bell aka LFO is about to release his latest collection of raw electronic music. ‘Sheath’ may have been waiting in Bell’s studio for nearly seven years, but it’s about to deliver a wake up call to his jaded peers.
“I’m not a huge fan of the music, but at least electroclash has ideas and energy,” Mark concludes. “I went to a Gigolos party recently and there was a proper mix of people and, instead of pontificating about getting the rhythms to sound perfect, the crowd were being entertained and having fun. That’s what electronic music is really all about.”
LFO: he is back.

Bumbling, yeah

Here are some records that are warming my heart and getting my toes tappinng... Redshape: ‘Unfinished Symmetry’ (Present): what's most striking about this release and Redshape's music in general is that he uses just a few core elements, but his sound is so warm and his arranging so deft that it feels far greater than the sum of its parts. ‘Unfinished Symmetry’ is no exception and the title track’s spooky synths and resonating bassline, which capture a feeling somewhere between Pscyhe-era Carl Craig and rougher Chicago house, is worth the purchase price alone. The live, shuffling drums and spiralling, squelchy acid of ‘Black Dust’ raises Redshape's bar even higher.
'Ugandan Speed Trials' is a funny name for a record - for some reason, I had visions of Idi Amin screaming at two petrified defendants as they kneeled before him, their arms and legs bound and a big bag of amphetamine next to them - and its creator wants to keep their indentity a mystery (although it's probably Regis). Maybe he/she wants the listener to focus on the music, and there's no danger of that you will zone out to these untitled tracks: for starters, they are bloody loud (wonder who did the mastering) and make the listener feel like they are surrounded by the seismic bass, whiplash percussion and clanging metallic rhythms. Both untitled tracks are pretty basic, eschewing straight kicks in favour of churning bass and heavy 808 drums and achieve a kind of DJ-friendly middle ground techno and dubstep.
Has anyone else noticed the similarities between Berlin minimal and sarf Lahndan tech-house? This link became increasingly clear to me on Gummi Hz's 'Mind Games' for Mobilee. Surely it’s no coincidence that Alexander Tsotsos aka Gummi Hz is from London and 'Desire’ sounds like a glitchy, more FX-heavy update of the typical tripped out, shuffling groove that Terry Francis and Eddie Richards make and play. It even has a deep male vocal sample so beloved of the London producers. 'Hypnotize’ is the one for me on this release, with Mr Hz holding together a building wall of droning noise with doubled up Chicago claps and a sleek rhythm track.
Speaking of copyists, there are way too many people making dubby techno at the moment, so it's refreshing to hear a release by the masters of all things layered and textured, Substance & Vainqueur. 'Libration' on Scion Version features their trademark submerged bass and cavernous delays, but the tempo and unfussy arrangement make it perfect DJ material. Despite its heavenly chords, ‘Resonance’ is clubbier still, the shaking percussion underpinning a dub bass of seismic proportions.
I'm not always his biggest fan, but Matt Edwards is in fine form at the moment and Bell Clap Dance on Rekids is my favourite Radioslave release yet. Call it whatever you want, but it is based on just a few components, yet Edwards utilises them so effectively that no further embellishment is needed. Tight percussion and clipped beats provide the entrance to a parallel universe populated by a spooky chord sequence. Sebo K's version is decent enough, but it’s not a patch on the ethereal original. It seems like Edwards is in cosmic mode at the moment, because he also takes on the, erm, spiritual 'Road of Life‘ by Francois K on Deep Space as Quiet Village. Wrapping Kervorkian’s delicate hooks around a driving, relentless techno-house rhythm, it sounds like Edwards has come under the influence of 430 West's hypnotically percussive back catalogue.
It's a pity that most people who buy a vinyl copy of 'Feuerland' by Justus Kohncke on Kompakt will give most attention to the Chic ‘Good Times’ string-sampling and funk bass of ‘Parage’. On the flip, the producer pays tribute to one of Kraftwerk's original members on the title track. Michael Rother produced 'Feuerland' in his follow-on band, Neu, and Kohncke has stayed true to the original, with waves of fuzzy, melancholic guitars unfolding over understated drums. It won’t ignite the dance floor, but it's lovely late night listening music and shows that Kohncke is more versatile than one might think.
Finally, I am I the only one to be completely underwhelmed by 'Mumblin, Yeah'? Probably. I just don't get it - it's a pleasant if uneventful off-beat dubby techno track. It's well produced, but does it deserve the mad blog love and an ultra-generous, gushing review? I think not. To paraphrase a rock cliche, there's always been a vocal element to techno, right back to Inner City, Cybotron, and if you're looking for deep, dubby techno with vocals, track down 'The Shit' by Sean Deason. More recently, a producer like Bruno Pronsato's work with vocals has been far more rewarding and inventive. Maybe it's more of a comment on the low quality of most minimal techno that a workmanlike DJ tool is elevated to the status of greatness and showered with platitudes - or is it being hyped because a certain Mr Hawtin is playing it? Mmmm.....