I am an avid longtime collector of 70s/80s Japanese Synthpop music, and being based in Europe that always proved to be quite some task, particularly in the pre-internet shopping days. You had to start from scratch, mostly starting with Yellow Magic Orchestra and their affiliated labels like Yen, Monad or Alfa, and you studied the credits of every record and learnt about new artists, crosslinks and local scenes. But finding those records in some continental crates was a rare and lucky occasion, and then when internet offered more purchasing options, it appeared to be a rather pricey habit because of shipping costs and Japanese sellers who were perfectly aware that their items were considerably out of reach beyond their own soil. But it also became very apparent that their was way more to discover, and it was well worth trying. Still, the Japanese music scene was frustratingly hermetic. I had gathered a collection over the years, but regularly you came across sellers with pages and pages of offers, complete with listening clips, and you had to admit that you were not scratching the surface, you were not even near it. I could have bought the bulk of it if possible, it all sounded fantastic, but it was not possible, and as I tried to at least learn about the artists I read in the item descriptions via web search engines, information was very scarce. For a nation so obsessed with technological progress and cultural information, there was mysteriously little given away to the outside world, only a few hideously designed websites by American or European enthusiasts who lived in Japan and fell in love with what they heard. I was really glad they made the effort, but their discographies, as thorough as they were, offered not much beyond artists I already knew about, and sooner or later every such site disappeared from sight again, only to be replaced by, well, not much else. I’m perfectly convinced that a well researched book about Japanese music would sell profitable quantities, there must be more people like me, but it can only be written by a Japanese author.
And then it always fascinated me that it was well acknowledged that Japan contributed a lot to electronic music in said period of time, but once House came along in the mid to late 80’s, and Techno shortly after, there were so few notable Nippon producers reacting to it. And as the Chicago pioneers operated mainly on musical equipment built in Japan and later neglected for the international bargain market, it was even more curious that those sounds originated so far away from where they were originally developed. No matter how hard you tried, the Japanese equivalent to the early House music masters was nowhere to be found. But you had this feeling there just had to be someone.
Years later a good friend of mine, a serious Deep House completist collector, pointed out that there were some interesting releases by Japanese artists on Hisa Ishioka’s King Street Sounds, a New York based label established in 1993, which was inspired by the Paradise Garage experience. He investigated further and found Ishioka’s sub-label BPM Records, which from 1991 on showcased a small wealth of Japanese producers taking on the trademark mellow but crisp Big Apple Deep House style established on imprints like Nu Groove, Strictly Rhythm, Nervous and a plethora of smaller labels. The producer with the most credits was Soichi Terada, and he also seemed to have the most distinctive signature sound. It is known that Larry Levan toured Japan at the end of his career, and even shortly before is death, and there must have been some interaction with the local scene, as he remixed Terada’s gorgeous 1989 track „Sunshower“ two years later, as did fellow New York DJ legend Mark Kamins. So there he was at last, the House music master from Japan. He even had his own label, called Far East Recordings, and though it only had a small back catalogue the few sound bits I could track down had me locking target on every single one of them. Terada’s sound admittedly owed a lot to its US prototypes, the whole lush smoothness of it, but it also had a weirdly bouncing funk, and more importantly, it had all this charming humour to its melodies and arrangements, and this all-embracing both respectful and freeform use of Western influences interpreted with Japanese music traditions I so fell in love with the first time I ever heard YMO.
But the other parallel was that it was as hard to find as any other record I had in my Nippon wantslist, or even worse. At least the releases pre-House were pressed in suffcient runs, but these were only done in quantities of a few hundred. Enter this fine compilation, which although interest in Nippon House had increased over the years, appeared a bit out of the blue. It was put together by my friend Hunee, a DJ and music enthusiast with a fine tendency to dig that little deeper, and he managed to secure all the essential tracks by Soichi Terada and his frequent collaborator Shinichiro Yokota. And even when reissues of rare records are quite common these days, this is really something special. Now someone please do that complete collection of Koizumix Production tracks, and make me an even happier man.
I really don’t like all these convenience product edits of rare or popular Disco and Synthpop material. With a bit of experience and practice you can learn the skills necessary to handle the original irregularities of drummers or sloppy rhythm programming, and maintain the already well executed aspects of the original arrangement over the DJ service straightness of most edits. I like people who deconstruct the source material and turn it into something else, even if it is only a respectful variation. I just do not see much merit in keeping the original and just streamlining it for better mixing. I am perfectly aware that this criticism may seem pointless, as most of today’s club setups for mixing are designed to have the choice what to play next as the only task left for the DJ, if at all. I have Zager and Evans’ In The Year 2525 in my head, predicting “some machine is doing that for you”.
When DJs began to make their own edits of tracks they liked to play in the late 70s, better mixing purposes admittedly played a role. But mostly the editing process was determined by personal preferences concerning the arrangement of a track, not determined by the aim to reduce every track to the same groove and functionality, regardless of arrangement. So they took out tape and scissors, and made intros end up in a kick drum in time, extended or cut breaks and other parts, dropped instruments or vocals they did not like, and often improved the source with individual versions and interpretations.
Many daring edits of that era were officially released, but the most radical approaches were to be found in the catalogues of the remix services. Disconet led the way in 1977, and soon all over the US and Europe DJs and producers were splicing reel-to-reels to let a certain track shine in the best possible way, and the remix services like hot Tracks, Razormaid, Ultimix, Art Of Mix, C.S., Landspeed and countless others gathered the results and distributed them back to the clubs. The records compiling the edits often contained original tracks and medleys as well, and tracks were segued to make the work for the DJ easier, who often played for hours on end in those days, several nights a week. The selection of the tracks per release was often frustrating. With a few sublime reworks there were also tracks included that were well cheesy to begin with, and did not get better after being worked on. Eurodance cheese, weird rock songs trying to cross over to the dance market, and lots of one hit wonders, with questionable hits. There was no other reason for the tracklisting than songs being pushed regardless of quality, and of course the individual taste of the editor at work. The edits also varied in quality, a lot were even rather crude, or as forgettable as the original material. But there were also a lot of edits that reconstructed what they were given to work with to a whole new level. Take Razormaid’s edit of the Pet Shop Boys’ West End Girls for example. The intro is easier to mix in their version, but were the official Shep Pettibone remix arguably sacrifices the song’s special appeal for dancefloor credentials, Razormaid manage to keep the tension by rearranging the elements and still achieve a track that works a treat in a club context.
I’ve been collecting remix service records for quite some time now, and starting with Hot Wax 026, I would like to dedicate an irregular series of shows to my personal favourites in that field.
As I checked Hot Wax 025’s tracklist for a record to highlight I couldn’t help noticing three records of Japanese origin. All three are very fine examples of artists with their own signature sound. Soichi Terada was doing House in Japan from the late 80’s on, when there very few cohorts around him. It is quite strange that the country that developed so much equipment that House and Techno were based on in their respective pioneering days, led to such little output in that field, whereas from the late 70’s to the late 80’s there were almost too many great artists to follow track. And for a music enthusiast outside of Japan, information and actual releases were always hard to come by, too. Now Terada’s rare back catalogue will be compiled to shine a light on the small but very fine according Nippon House scene, which unfortunately did not develop much further from those years. A good part of the local scene was wholly absorbed by the international success of the glossy Nippon version of Lounge, Acid Jazz and New York big room House, and it seemed not to be a fertile time for subtleties (and if Japanese culture adapts foreign culture it adapts it thoroughly, and it may last a while as well). So there surely are some gems to be found, but there is also a bulk which is a charmingly weird interpretation of Western club sounds of the boisterous and booming era as House entered the big rooms and became widely recognized in the mainstream stakes, and the tons of styles that were recycled, sampled and mutated in the process only added to the confusion.
Shinichi Atobe on the other hand landed a record on Hard Wax’s seminal Chain Reaction imprint just a few years later, and it certainly had its kudos, but then it was also perfectly available for years, and only became a rare item as the interest in Japanese electronic music was on the rise again more recently. So a perfect timing to release “Butterly Effect”, previously unreleased recordings that display a fine talent for deep atmospherics and which do not seem to care what happened in all those years. And even in times where many labels, producers and their respective fanbase do not care much either, this release stands out from the rest, and the praise seems well deserved.
Takuya Matsumoto started his career around the same time as Atobe, but he appeared on my radar only a few years back, when I coincidentally stumbled upon a few releases on the Iero label. At first I thought he was taking a decidedly psychedelic look on the Detroit House legacy, but I soon learnt that he was aiming elsewhere really, and he might have the potential to become a property for some time to come.
I hope that there is much more to discover where all of the above came from, and I hope it does not sound as what is happening elsewhere in this world. We need that!
At this point I like to imagine Jeff Mills’ ongoing mission to explore space as if it actually happened.
With each concept album he ventures further out into the vast unknown, and what once mattered – clubs, skills, origins, traditions, cities, people – becomes less important the more he gets away from his own planet. There are times when contact with him is interrupted for longer periods, but he is a reliable traveller most of the time, sending home reports of his encounters on a regular basis. Not every discovery on the way is equal in status, some was already suspected, some is in line with what was known already, has parallels in the inventory, is history repeating. But often enough, there is an unexpected transmission that rearranges your perspective of what might still be possible, what wonders are lurking out there, yet unreached. And then you realize you wish he may travel further away, even if he could be too distant at some point to send the transmissions to where they belong.
Yeah, you might think this a tad ludicrous. But show me yours, and come again
Do you remember the scene in “The Terminator” where the dogs in the dark tunnel go mad, indicating that something is not quite right among the rebels hiding out there? Just a few moments later shots are illuminating the room like deadly strobes. And the shooter has no mercy, killing everything that moves. And soon enough not much is left moving. And then one of the few survivors is staring into the dark, watching the machine in the shape of a human that is causing all the mayhem. And then the machine turns around, and in the dark chaos its lifeless eyes glow, flashing melting metal like beams like a lethal laser pointer towards more potential victims, as the smoke of its heavy gun barrel mingles with the smoke of the slain bodies on the floor.
Sometime in 1990, I was among the crowd in a dark basement club at peak time, and the DJ dropped this track.
It felt exactly like the film scene above. But it was real.
I first heard this record played by Boris Dlugosch at Hamburg’s Front Club, sometime in the 90’s, where particularly “Illusion” became a cherished and trusted screaming anthem. It was a fairly obscure Jersey sound item, but not that hard to find. I actually got a hold of it in a bargain bin for just a few Deutschmarks, and since every time I played it out over the years people kept asking about it, I kept recommending it and every new owner was happy to find something so special for so little money. I was convinced it could stay this way forever and never checked back, but as I played “Organized” at Vancouver’s New Forms Festival this year (see Hot Wax 022, around the 1:50 mark) it was welcomed on the floor like an old friend, with people coming up to thank me for playing it out, and cheers all round. I told them the usual about it being a gem that is still out there for easy grabs, and then to my surprise got told that it was quite the opposite now. Well, it totally makes sense.
DJ Dove probably would have loved to sound as classy as the more successful protagonists of the New Jersey and New York House scene, but it is most likely that there was little money for equipment and studio and his label maybe had even less to spend. Thus you have a record bursting with great moments, and mastering and cut do their best to reduce it to a back door to back alley version of what was best intended, and still it is a wonderful example of what you can achieve as long you have ideas. Nowadays each week sees releases by up and coming producers who gather costly vintage equipment (or according presets) and muffle what they have on purpose, aiming for grit and that enigmatic authenticity, an air of mystery even. Still, if you think what you hear without the filters and hiss, there is not much left to stay in your memory but an aesthetic which has already crossed the gap to a cliché without much meaning. And the reason why a track like “Organized” is still ruling is hardly because it is raw, it is because it is a really good track. But there are plenty of forgotten releases from the past like this, raw because there was no other way, and there will be plenty of new releases longing for this punk deepness, and coming up with the necessary tunes to combine a certain attitude with, well, music. You will have trouble achieving longevity if you neglect the music for anything else. Here’s proof.
I must admit that I did not buy that much Drum and Bass in its mid 90s heyday. I simply loved too much of it, thus it seemed purchasing what I loved would drain my budget for good, as there was enough already going on elsewhere I needed to keep track of. I bought a whole lot of mixtapes though, trying to devour the most and best of it as it was intended to shine. I applied the same pattern with Dubstep as well later on. There were just too many interesting records to add the them to the shopping list I already had week in week out. I went to nights, bought some mixtapes again, kept in touch. But then some day 5 years ago, I was going up the stairs to Hard Wax, and DJ Pete was booming this over the store PA. With every step up I became convinced more and more that this was not like anything I heard in either Drum and Bass and Dubstep so far, yet it sounded like it belonged to both, but it had very determined sound aesthetics more linked in my mind to Techno as well. The half time tempo had me confused at first. Of course you could always mix Drum And Bass or Dubstep with slower paced downtempo tracks, but this particular track seemed to be built for the purpose, only the other way round. Its beats were really heavy, yet agile. It’s atmosphere dark, yet totally engaging. The vocals floating above, adding still to the austerity. I asked what it was, and bought it instantly. There will be a time you will drop this, and it will do serious damage, I thought. I was right. I also fucked up my budget by extending my purchasing schemes to this area, for years to come. Sometimes, you just have to give in.
One thing I really enjoy when DJing is sequencing tracks that use the same samples, or combine them with the material it was sampled from on top. The same goes for tracks with similar sounds, and of course you find the most similar sounds if you takes a closer look at a certain producer’s output. I have a very weak spot for the eccentrics of House music and Chicago’s Curtis Jones is among my favourite from that species. I have a weak spot for spoken vocals in House tracks as well, particularly if they exceed mere dancefloor imperatives or spiritual togetherness stuff, or embarrassing sexual posing. Well, Curtis Jones is well smart and hip enough to perform the latter with tolerable style and humour. So I was flicking through my archives of 90’s Chicago House 12″s for a recent gig at Panoramabar a few days ago, and I remembered that several tracks produced by Jones used the sound template made so famous by the “Underground Trance” version of Cajmere’s “Brighter Days”. The other that instantly came to mind was “Chit Chat”, it took a while longer to come up with “Believe In Me”. All three tracks sound very similar, but have a very different lyrical content. I decided to play “Chit Chat”, “Believe In Me”, and then “Brighter Days” in succession, and together they form a really weird narrative. Of course the majority of the people on the floor have enjoyed the music more than the tracks’ twisted little story, but that is perfectly fine. Not every point you make has to hit home. But it is important to make a few points throughout a set, for me at least. I also played a few early 90’s NYC sample House tracks that sample Yazoo’s “Don’t Go”, but none were too obvious, and I forgot to bring Yazoo’s “Don’t Go”. Next time.
Though being a Disco and a Post Punk enthusiast since a tender young age, Indoor Life admittedly passed me by for quite some time. In pre-internet days, all the media resources I had access to (which actually were as many music magazines I could afford to read and as many radio shows within reach I could listen to) proved their unreliability by not offering me any information about them. There was no good friend who discovered their releases in a record shop, and they escaped my digging fingers as well.
When I finally stumbled upon Indoor Life years later, while researching potential gaps in my extensive Patrick Cowley collection in the web, even the few low research details and low quality vinyl rips I could gather made it more implausible how this outfit could fly so below all radars, and more importantly, for so long. How could I unearth the entire catalogue of a phenomenal band like Philadelphia’s The Stickmen while still being a teenager, who had less information circulating, less releases and probably never toured outside the US, and totally overlook this one, which connected even more of my interests? A band from the golden days of San Francisco Disco and Post Punk, produced by the legendary Hi-NRG originator Cowley himself? Post Punk AND Patrick Cowley! It was puzzling to say the least, and it sounded too good to be true.
Only it wasn’t. The CD-R copy a friend in the UK had sent me (I may have had internet access by then, but file sharing was still way ahead) sounded even better. There was a notable absence of guitars, but not to be missed, as the bass played with as much heavy funk as anything featuring Bill Laswell, but with a different edge, in perfect unison with ultra-precise and similarly heavy funky drums, both often deviating to rhythm and groove of an almost feverish quality. The synthesizer sequences and sounds indeed were similar to what Cowley did on his famed productions in the Disco area, but here they were a whole lot more experimental and dark and added a congenial atmospheric edge to the proceedings. A plethora of weird effects and particularly this absolutely stunning and unique use of the trombone added even more. And on top of it, this charismatic voice, sounding like nobody else’s, singing words of strangely tainted romanticism and that kind of futuristic alienation that would not age awkwardly. Listening to it all I was floored, and instinctive attempts to compare it to other seminal protagonists of that time soon failed into nowhere. And as that meant seeking parallels to other music created in an incredible productive and innovative era, this of course was quite something. Indoor Life were an impressively smart archetype, ahead of their time in many ways. Like in hindsight, so many were not.
It was certainly predictable that I would purchase everything they did, even if it would take years. But I would as certainly never have predicted that I would ever be involved with what the person behind the voice had done with Patrick Cowley before Indoor Life, or that I would even get to know him, and find him to be one of the finest and most interesting persons I have ever met, and a good friend. But that’s another story. In the meantime, consider yourself very lucky that you have much quicker access to the genius of Indoor Life than I had. “Archeology”, indeed…
Although Rabih Beaini sure likes to improvise (check him performing live with his analogue setup whenever you can), he has managed to develop a puzzling signature sound that is as rough and ready as it is beautifully textured and detailed. In comparison to this album, most of 2011’s other productions in electronic music sound like wringing a handful of mediocre ideas to death with a considerable array of gadgets, but no result. Truly individual music from a true individual.
02. Reel By Real: Surkit Chamber – The Melding (Artless)
Considering how long Martin Bonds was an active part of Detroit Techno’s history books, the actual released output was irritatingly scarce. Listening to 2010’s retrospective on the same label, I had the feeling that he was perfectly fine with keeping his back catalogue slim but impressive. And then this came along, a collection of more recent tracks, and I just felt grateful that this lovingly curated album made public what could have been missed so easily, yet again. Employing a much wider set of references, this is the sound of Motor City transcending the paralysis of its own tradition and then some.
03. Jeff Mills: Star Chronicles – Orion (Axis)
Admittedly some of the most determined space traveller’s recent output is not without flaws, but never enough so as to get me tired of his ongoing mission to refine his sound. Still, every single one of his releases seems to be more unique and consequent than the majority of Techno productions some are ready to dismiss him for. He has created his own universe, and he roams in it. His music has surpassed club credentials, and even if some of his concepts may be pretentious, I would never blame him for pursuing his interests and painting them with his increasingly more spaced-out sounds that are so obviously his own. Let others try to reach the point where they become their own reference. Most will be forgotten when Jeff Mills will be heading for yet another galaxy.
So many tales about the ruthless business tactics of the early Chicago House labels, and unfortunately most of them are true. I don’t even want to know how many gems have never seen the light of day because not every artist was willing and able to take a stand against that. I’m just grateful that sometimes things turn out how they should have, no matter how long it takes. This box set has not a track on it without the power to name and shame legions of clueless copycats. It is a testimony to musicians doing music because they just have to, even without anybody even having the chance to notice it. For every House afficionado still admiring the sheer beauty of their original Trax releases, they did more, in more styles, and now, at last, it can be heard.
05. Surgeon: Breaking The Frame (Dynamic Tension)
It is almost ridiculous that Surgeon is regularly drawn into the debate about what will become of Dubstep since it embraced Techno. For certain, he does not have to worry to deliver less in a genre newly discovered than in a genre left behind. Both Dubstep and Techno owe a lot to his work as DJ and producer, and this album does not even stress that, it just shows how he keeps getting better and better with what he does, and how he will thus be ever important to what is going on.
It seemed that as soon as rumour spread about the two collaborating in a session, the album was about to be released. But it certainly does not sound like a quickfire result. It is impressively accomplished, and already after a short while in, you begin to care less about who contributed what to the proceedings. It is just what modern electronic music should sound like when two major talents get together and nothing less. Keep the continuum and post-whatever talk for those who artistically vanish trying.
07. Container: LP (Spectrum Spools)
And suddenly, among all the good ole warehouse days mimicry, be it by means of analogue equipment or software replica, appeared this album. And it blew most of the competition to bits. I still do not know much about the artist nor do I care. I just hope he continues with this considerably psychotic and no less gripping take on the sounds of way back when and transforming it into something way ahead. A fine example for that it is always better to deconstruct than to reconstruct your references. It just lasts longer.
08. Drums Off Chaos + Jens Uwe Beyer: Drums Off Chaos + Jens Uwe Beyer (Magazine)
One of the most interesting German labels around. All their releases so far do not only look great, they sound great as well. I do not have the slightest doubt that it will be this way for quite some time to come. I’m not particularly knowledgeable in the Krautrock area but enough to maintain that the label’s initial agenda to fuse the modern sound of Cologne with the vintage sound of the German experimental ‘70s is so well-executed that it not only matters but becomes something else entirely. And I trust those people to come up with surprises as well. This project is of course already convincing by the names of the people involved. Jaki Liebezeit is not one to rely on past laurels, and his drumming is as tight and complex as ever, plus it mingles perfectly with the sounds of Beyer’s synths. The generation gap is hereby closed.
I can quite understand some people having their doubts about the music of Ekoplekz. To the passing listener it might seem chaotic, unstructured, aimless even. Retrofuturism drawer opens, Ekoplekz disappears. I, however, am old enough to vividly remember the vast output of the ‘80s tape circuit and all the wonderful ideas that came with it. And the ideas of Ekoplekz are so wonderful that they merit whatever release he has in mind. Kudos to Punch Drunk for featuring someone not afraid to merge the UK progress in bass and beats with sounds lifted from a romantic take on all the library musicians and electronic sound experimentalists who never had their say. Keep soldering that DIY gear and make me happy!
10. Kid Creole & The Coconuts: I Wake Up Screaming (Strut)
Of course the Kid’s comeback could not compare to the masterpieces of his past. The Coconuts are not the same, nor is his band. But as with his cohort Coati Mundi’s recent album, the lyricist wit is still there, as are some of the songs. As if I would mind. For me August Darnell is a genius and forever will be, and just to know that he keeps on doing what he is doing is well enough for me.
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