Doctor Mix And The Remix – Out of the Question (1979)
A lot of the music we’ve picked out to discuss comes from a similar background in terms of time period, style and sound, but I think this one is pretty obscure. How did you find it?
Through a friend of mine. There’s a label in New York called Acute Records maybe eight years ago or so. A few of my friends in California are really obsessed with The Jesus and Mary Chain, and one of the members of the band mentioned once that this was one of their favourite records of all time. The thing I like about it is the extremity of the music. It’s super high-pitched, with distortion and tinny drum machines but then it’s covers of, like, Stooges songs.
This track in particular has this really insane, rhythmic track that’s super metronomic but super heavy at the same time. It’s very aggressive, but not because of the levels of distortion. The first time I heard it I thought I was listening to [The Jesus and Mary Chain’s] Psycho Candy. The more I looked into it, the more I realized how much of an influence it had on them.
It’s funny. The Jesus and Mary Chain were always compared to The Velvet Underground, but apparently there’s much more to it than that.
Sure. There’s not a lot of stuff like this. The guy was in one of the first French punk bands. And, with this, they kind of combined the attitude of the Velvets with these misinterpretations from a different country. I love that because, for me, techno in California was always a misinterpretation of what was happening in Berlin and Detroit and Chicago just because we didn’t really have a big scene. We had a club scene, but not a techno scene. I just really love the weird interpretations of The Stooges and stuff like that.
Are you interested in bands that deconstruct rock tradition in some way?
At the end of the day it’s all about attitude. Willing to push things a lot and not really care. It was the same when I first heard Cabaret Voltaire’s “Messages Received.” I just didn’t know what to say, I was blown away. I thought, “It doesn’t get any more honest than that.” I think that’s the whole thing. There’s an honesty in the music that you can’t remove. There’s a visceral element to it. That’s how myself, Karl [O’Connor], Dave [Sumner] and even Pete [Sutton] interpret music in some way I think.
Cabaret Voltaire – Messages Received (1980)
There was a very heavy art slant on what Cabaret Voltaire did. I think it’s very, very art driven. They’d also have the influence of The Velvet Underground and all that ’60s psych rock, but they’d do all these awesome records and what came through the most was the attitude. “This is what I wanna do, this is how I’m gonna do it.” And they just went for it.
Is that a quality you try to pursue? Not thinking about what you can or can’t do?
Yeah, I talk to Karl every other day on the telephone, we’re in very heavy contact on a weekly basis, same thing with Dave. But it’s funny because when I make music it’s purely to see what he thinks, just for us to discuss… “Oh, I really like this. What do you think?” It’s more a conversation from an art base. I try to work in a very automatic response way. I work in art direction, so I work quite a bit on TV commercials and magazines and stuff like that. So when I work on music it’s usually very late at night and I have to work in headphones, so it’s usually like a weird mantra type state, kinda conscious and unconscious, while I’m working.
It’s nice because there’s a sense that I’m not really thinking about anything particularly. I’m able to work on music in that mindframe where I’m doing it purely just because I want to see what I can come up with. In a more artistic sense, sometimes I will make a visual and we will work to the visual. Like with the artwork for the album. That was made first. Then we made a record that matched that.
For labels like Factory, design labels were incredibly important. They were, in many cases, as important as the music.
When you get that double impact of visual and audio, you’re like, “Wow, this is really intense.” Cabaret Voltaire for me has always done that. All the artwork on their covers. The early ones especially had that handmade element, which I’m sure was some of the guys in the band literally cutting things out by hand and assembling collages. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Tim Lawrence on “Go Bang #5″ by Dinosaur L (1982).
The work on your book on Arthur Russell, “Hold On To Your Dreams”, has probably made you quite an expert on his works, but when was actually the first time you heard “Go Bang! #5″? Was it the song as a single, or did you hear it in the context of the whole “24 – 24 Music” album?
I first heard François Kevorkian’s remix of “Go Bang! #5” when I bought the “Spaced Out: Ten Original Disco Funk Grooves” back in 1997. I was living in New York at the time, and being a bit of a house head, had been quite resistant to buying so-called “disco classics”. By then I had already heard Todd Terry’s sampling of Lola Blank’s crazed-girl-on-helium rendition of the “Go Bang” lyric, which appeared on “Bango (To The Batmobile),” a 1988 house track. I only got to hear the version that appears on the“24 → 24 Music” album – which is titled “#5 Go Bang!” – later on.
Arthur Russell was responsible for a whole lot of outstanding music. Why did you choose “Go Bang! #5″ over other of his songs? What makes it so important for you?
The first thing I should probably say is that “#5 Go Bang!” appeared on an album by Dinosaur L, not an album by Arthur Russell. Of course Arthur (if I can call him by his first name; at times I feel as though I know him, even though we never met) was the key figure behind Dinosaur L, and pulled all of the appearing musicians together. But Arthur was dead-set on the idea of collaboration, and believed that the relationships he formed with other musicians were meaningful, so he introduced different names for the different line-ups he formed.
Why is “Go Bang” so important? That’s the record that I’ve always thought his most complete, inasmuch as it seemed to capture Arthur’s utopian desire to combine the various sounds of downtown New York – disco, punk/new wave, loft jazz, and the post-minimalist form of compositional music known as new music – in a single piece of music. The record also combines complexity and simplicity; it contains scores of ideas, yet never relinquishes the centrality of the groove. I like all sorts of music, but I particularly like music that manages to combine these elements. I could have also opted instead for “Kiss Me Again”, “Platform On The Ocean”, the “World of Echo” album, “This Is How We Walk On the Moon”. “World of Echo” is an extraordinary piece of work, “Kiss Me Again” gets better by the listen. But “Go Bang” is the one that stands out, especially in terms of dance floor dynamics, plus Arthur was happy with the “Go Bang” turned out, whereas he hated the final mix of “Kiss Me Again” and seemed to feel awkward about the obscure quality of “World of Echo”. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Oliver Ho on “Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1” (1993).
Were you already familiar with the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia, or was “Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1″ your first encounter with their music?
I was already familiar with their music, I think the first thing I had heard was the album, “Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves”. The thing on that album that really struck me was “Linkage”. The way they sampled Egyptian rhythms, and the fact that the track was purely made up of rhythms in a very stripped back way, that were also at a slow bpm. It had a purity and a different edge, very tribal, not techno or house in style at all.
Why did you choose this particular release out of their back catalogue? What made, or still makes, it so special for you? Is it a blueprint for aspects that interest you in electronic music?
The thing about this release that struck me at the time and what continues to be relevant to me is the is the purity of intention. It was an attitude towards music as ‘magick’ that was inspirational. The idea that a particular rhythm is like a spell, something that isn’t just about entertainment, but is operating on a more powerful level. There is a message on the record sleeve artwork that reads: “Warning! This object has nothing to do with art or artificial intelligence. This double package (12″ version) was designed for mixing, for breaks, for possession, for collectors.” This seemed to articulate that there were was something inside the music, that was waiting to released, some kind of energy, that had been placed there by the makers… Read the rest of this entry »
Yes, almost ten years since I left England. The reason was not by my design. I was enjoying America so much that I overstayed my visa. If I was to leave, I would have not been allowed back for another five or ten years and I was planning on making my life there. And only a year and a half ago I got married and applied for my green card. And I now have the green card, and my work visa and my right to travel and re-enter the States. So here I am, back in the world. I recently completed a big tour of Japan and I’m on a major tour of Europe right now.
You got married and still it took such a while to get your green card?
Well, actually the process is a lot quicker now than it used to be. From the time I put my application in it was actually only four months until the card came through. Since 9/11 the background check is a little more stringent, but the whole process is now centralized, instead of the department in Washington, and the department in Detroit and so on. There’s one computer, and if you fit the criteria then it’s all good.
So you spent all those years of your self-imposed exile just playing in the States?
Yes, but on a regular basis. America is a big place. And I have a regular circuit. Starting on the Northeast coast, Detroit, Chicago, New York City, Philadelphia, Washington, Miami, then skipping over to the other side, San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boulder and Seattle. And that’s not even including Hawaii. So that’s plenty of work, even if I do that once every couple of months.
But your main bases are Hawaii, Los Angeles and New York City?
Basically yes. My most regular gigs would be there.
Would you say that these are also the cities where your music fits best? Is there a better scene for what you play?
Everywhere I play people come to hear me play. I regularly play in Miami for the Winter Music Conference and Art Basel, that’s my two gigs a year mainly there. Towns like San Diego and San Francisco have a scene, too. Most of the places have a scene as such. It’s not the biggest scene, but with all the internet communication and stuff like that it’s small but healthy.
And since you are allowed to travel again, is it some kind of relief and you accept many gigs abroad?
Not really. It is nice to travel and just to have the freedom. I haven’t been around for ten years so it’s nice to pop out and go to Japan and Europe again. But I don’t plan to spend the next ten years on the road. There are a lot of opportunities, basically everywhere I ever played before plus twice as many places again.
How does it feel to get out again? Has the scene changed in the meantime?
I don’t think it has changed at all.
Is that disappointing?
No, that’s not disappointing at all. I always had a good time. There are certain focuses on particular kinds of music over the years, whether it’s Electroclash, or Minimal, or Drum ‘n’ Bass, but in general the dance music scene still goes bang bang bang between 110 and 130 bpm. And I don’t really see boundaries between the so-called genres. I play the music that I like, whether it’s a Techno record, or a Disco record, or whatever. I think more than the music has changed the people have changed. Kids that weren’t born when I was DJing in the mid 80’s are now in their mid 20’s, there’s a whole new generation of people who have come through as well as the survivors from the old school. The formula of a dance party is still very similar. I suppose communication via internet had an impact. Even though I have been away for ten years people know exactly what I have been doing. It’s not like I completely disappeared during that time. The networking has made sure that my influence via production or gossip has been maintained.
I think the internet helped to keep your status alive. All you did was thoroughly discussed on specialist websites and message boards. I guess this is quite different to how it was before.
Yeah. Scenes used to be localized, and now it’s globalized. Which is good and bad. If something fresh happens in a small area it doesn’t have time to develop, it is instantly global. Early Punk or Hip Hop had two to five years a hardcore scene as such. Whereas now, as soon as there’s a bright idea it’s everywhere in the world and everyone’s had a piece of it before it maybe manages to have a big foundation.
Nowadays it might also be easier to get influenced by another DJ, or even to imitate somebody. In pre-internet days you could maybe get your hands on some mixtape, but it was difficult. Maybe you read about DJs, but you never had the chance to hear them. And now you can download tons of sets from legendary DJs, and from legendary clubs, too.
Yeah. I think that’s good and bad, too. These days I don’t let people record my sets. I suffered from heavy bootlegging. And a lot of the time when I play it’s for that moment. Maybe you’re sitting in your car, listening to a set, but you have no idea of the atmosphere or the climate at the moment when the record was being played. The tape might sound bizarre or disjointed or strange and it might not particularly work in the car or the boutique or at home. But at the particular moment, that was the right thing to do. So I try and keep my sets for the people who were there and it’s for memory banks only.
So you think it gets watered down?
It’s a double-edged sword. Sometimes there’s a little bit too much access. Some of the mystery is gone. If you think of DJs like Ron Hardy, I’ve only see one small grainy photograph of him, and you wonder who this guy is and what his character is. If you want to find about me, just hit Wikipedia, DJ Harvey images, and you know what I look like, my style. But there is a little mystery to who or what I am and I quite enjoy that. Luckily the personal appearance still counts for something. Because they have had absolutely everything besides me physically. And here I am, in the flesh, I actually exist. I’m not just this digital entity. Read the rest of this entry »
Gloria Jones – When I Was A Little Girl The Raes – Don’t Turn Around Pink Lady – Kiss In The Dark Marlena Shaw – Touch Me In The Morning The Duncan Sisters – Sadness In My Eyes James Bradley – Wrapped Up In Your Love Latimore – Goodbye Heartache Patrice Rushen – Haven’tYou Heard Machine – You’ve Come A Lng Way The English Beat – I Confess The Pale Fountains – …From Across The Kitchen Table Bananarama – Really Sayin’ Somethin’ Shriekback – Lined Up Duran Duran – Girls On Film Zaza – Zauberstab British Standard Unit – D’ya Think I’m Sexy Yazoo – Goodbye 70’s Strange Advance – Love Games The Associates – Waiting For The Loveboat Bee Gees – E.S.P. Marc Almond – Tears Run Rings Deacon Blue – Real Gone Kid Kumano – I’ll Cry For You BearEssence – The Big Hurt Space – Save Your Love From Me Noel – Dancing Is Dangerous Le Jeté – La Cage Aux Folles Sheila B. Devotion – Spacer Fox The Fox – Flirting And Showing Flash And the Pan – Waiting For A Train OMD – She’s Leaving
Im Gespräch mit Marcel Dettmann über “Ich und die Wirklichkeit” von Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft (1981).
Die entscheidende Frage zuerst, wie bist Du zu DAF gekommen?
Ich komme aus dem Ostteil Deutschlands, und nachdem man zu DDR-Zeiten nur Depeche Mode, Madonna oder Prince hatte, die richtig dicken Pop-Acts, kam kurz nach der Wende ein ganzer Schwall von Musik, wie z. B. auch DAF, Throbbing Gristle oder Front 242, später auch Nitzer Ebb. Der Bruder eines Freundes von mir hat uns ständig mit CDs ausgerüstet, da war ich 12, und habe das erste Mal DAF gehört und fand das total verrückt.
Du hattest vorher nie von ihnen gehört?
Nein. Ich hatte vorher Ultravox, Erasure oder Depeche Mode gehört. Poppige Sachen. Und dann kamen DAF oder auch Nitzer Ebb, was ja artverwandt ist, sie waren ja quasi die englische Version von DAF. Wir hörten „Der Räuber und der Prinz“ und „Der Mussolini“ auch im Jugendclub, der von vier Uhr nachmittags bis abends um zehn offen hatte. Dort wurde in Runden gespielt, eine Runde für die Hip-Hopper, eine Runde für die Elektronikleute usw. Read the rest of this entry »
In der House- und Technogeschichte gibt es reichlich Auswahl an Signaturklängen, die auch Dekaden nach ihrer Entstehung noch bestens funktionieren und deswegen auch weiter und weiter benutzt werden. Wenn Derrick May jedesmal Geld bekommen würde, wenn jemand die Bassline von “Nude Photo” verwendet, er hätte sich nicht nur die mit den Jahren immer unnachvollziehbareren Erklärungen sparen können, warum er keine Musik mehr produziert, er hätte nichtmal mehr auflegen müssen. Larry Heard hätte sich mit stetigen Tantiemen der Bassline von “Can You Feel It” nie mehr mit dem Musikbusiness rumärgern müssen, dito Kevin Saunderson, sei es mit seinem patentierten Bassgrummeln oder den Euphorieakkorden von “Good Life”. Der Flurschaden-Staubsauger von Joey Beltrams “Mentasm”, und so weiter und so fort. Es gibt diverse solche kanonisierten Großklassiker, welche die fortwährende Verehrung ihrer Urheber rechtfertigen, auch wenn ihnen mit den Jahren die Ideen ausgegangen sind. In Hinblick auf die eine geniale Idee hat die Clubkultur durchaus ein Elefantengedächtnis und man kann lange davon zehren. Und dann gibt es diese Platten, die fast aus Versehen zur Legende werden, ohne große Auswirkungen auf die Karriere des Produzenten. “I Like It” von Landlord ist dafür ein Paradebeispiel. Wer nach mehr Releases von Landlord sucht, wird nichts finden, es gibt nur dieses eine. Bereits 1989 auf dem klassischen kanadischen House-Label Big Shot erschienen, hatte der spätere Hi-Bias Hausproduzent Nick Fiorucci wohl nichts anderes im Sinn als eine amtliche House-Produktion. Er tat sich mit einem Sänger mit dem ziemlich unglaublichen Namen Dex Danclair zusammen (der außer auf “I Like It” nie wieder in Erscheinung trat), und machte das, was er desöfteren machte: Deep House mit Gefühl und leicht angedunkeltem Sanftmut, nicht zu kickend, nicht zu dramatisch, nicht zu tief schürfend. Aber selbst in den konventionelleren Versionen des Tracks schrauben sich an clever gesetzten Punkten diese Stabs hoch, die man, einmal gehört, einfach nie mehr aus dem Kopf bekommt. Fiorucci schien das Potential dieser Akkordfolge durchaus abgesehen zu haben, denn der “Blow Out Dub” besteht dann aus nicht anderem als einer Bassline, eher dezenten New York Freestyle-Breaks, und eben diesem Piano-Riff, immer und immer wieder. Und was sich auf Zimmerlautstärke schon beeindruckend effizient anhörte, richtete im Club ungeahnte Verheerungen an. Ein archetypisches Rave-Signal, aus einer so schönen wie unspektakulären Vocal-House-Platte geboren. Generationen von Produzenten konnten davon nicht mehr die Zitatfinger lassen, bis zum heutigen Tag. Natürlich kommt das nicht von ungefähr, man kann mit diesen wenigen Akkorden aus jedem unscheinbaren Track eine Stimmungsschleuder zusammenmixen, und aus jedem schon guten Track etwas, das wie ein außerordentlich guter Track wirkt. Wer das nicht glauben will, möge das gerne mit der aktuellen Preset-Produktion überprüfen, wo noch das gewisse je ne sais quoi fehlt. Aber bitte vorsichtig.
Der prototypische Selbstbestimmungssong. Lesley Gore sah ihn eher als geschlechtsloses “humanist anthem”, aber dass die Feministinnen und die Gay Rights-Bewegung den Song später für sich einspannten, hat ihr sehr gut gefallen.
Nina Simone – See-Line Woman (Philips, 1964)
Eine schöne und stolze schwarze Frau in teuren Kleidern, die den Männern das Geld aus der Tasche zieht und ihre Herzen bricht, und trotzdem bewundert wird. Drag Queens aus armen Verhältnissen erkoren dies bis heute zu ihrem theme song.
The Carpenters – Let Me Be The One (A&M, 1971)
Die Geschwister Carpenter waren eher asexuell, aber die Campness ihrer Musik und die tragischen Komponenten ihres Lebens waren nicht nur in Todd Haynes’ legendärem Barbiepuppentrickfilm „Superstar“ höchst ikonentauglich.
David Bowie – John, I’m Only Dancing (RCA, 1972)
Egal, ob der Tänzer des Songs seinen Freund beschwichtigt, oder den Freund seiner Mittänzerin, Bowie ließ sich sein Gender bending nicht nehmen und die „boys“ blieben für ihn stets beschwingt, mitsamt Zwischentönen. Einer musste eben auf seinem Level den Anfang machen, und das war er am liebsten selbst.
Lou Reed – Walk On The Wild Side (RCA, 1972)
Der Song für alle unverstandenen Außenseiter, die ihr bisheriges Leben verabschieden und in der Großstadt angespült werden. Der Glam den sie dort finden ist selten der eingeplante, aber es ist immer noch Glam.
Jobriath – I’maman (Elektra, 1973)
Mit vereinten Kräften versuchte man aus Jobriath den alles überstrahlenden Megastar des Glam Rock zu machen, und es wurde ein fürchterliches Fiasko. Er starb früh und vereinsamt an AIDS, und erst eine von Morrissey lancierte Retrospektive konnte später beweisen, dass er überhaupt je existierte.
The Elton John Band – Philadelphia Freedom (MCA, 1975)
Zum Erscheinungsdatum der Single versteckte sich Sir Elton noch weitestgehend im Schrank, aber diese Hymne an die lesbische Tennislegende Billie Jean King und den Sound der City Of Brotherly Love zeigte schon, dass er auf einem guten Weg war.
SouthShore Commission – Free Man (Wand, 1975)
Eigentlich ein Mann-Frau-Duett, aber der geschlechtlich nicht eindeutig einzuordnende Gesang und markige Textzeilen wie „I’m a free man and talking ‘bout it” und „Freedom is the key to loving me” führten schleunigst zur Rekontextualisierung.
Candi Staton – Young Hearts Run Free (Warner Bros. Inc, 1976)
Wer jung ist, soll seine Jugend genießen und selbst bestimmen wohin er seine Liebe wirft. Der traurige Rest kommt schon noch früh genug. Wird von Ignoranten oft mit Rod Stewarts „Young Turks“ verwechselt.
Carl Bean – I Was Born This Way (Motown, 1977)
Ein gläubiger Gospelsänger und Reverend hält Seite an Seite mit Tom Moulton, dem legendärsten Mixer der Discogeschichte, ein glühendes, stolzes, mutiges und total umwerfendes Plädoyer für Toleranz, Nächstenliebe und schwules Selbstverständnis. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Fantastikoi Hxoi on “The White Room” by The KLF (1991).
What introduced you to the KLF? Were you already familiar with their previous incarnations as Justified Ancients Of Mu Mu or The Timelords, or did it start with their period from KLF onwards?
Well, I was something like twelve years old when “The White Room” broke internationally. I remember the “Last Train To Trancentral”video coming on after Paula Abdul on TV. I was like “ok, this is different”. It was a bit spooky to my young mind to be honest, all that faux-ritualistic imagery – and the music was equally gripping. Some years later I discovered The Orb and re-discovered the KLF and all their previous incarnations. Slowly I started to realise what they were really about.
Considering that “What Time Is Love?” was already released in 1988, would you say that The KLF introduced rave to dance music with all the according signals, stadium noises and such, or did they pick up on developments that were already there? Did they actually relate to a timeline in dance music?
As far as I can tell, they are one of the first underground rave acts that brought this kind of music (or elements of it) to the mainstream, complete with conceptual visual imagery and a certain philosophy. And ‘mainstream’ of course, is not 20.000 punters in a field in the UK. It’s a 12-year-old in Greece, on telly.Read the rest of this entry »
Im Gespräch mit Ralf Schmidt über “Songs Of Leonard Cohen” von Leonard Cohen (1967).
In jüngeren Jahren kannte ich Leonard Cohen weitestgehend aus dem Radio, meine Mutter hatte zwar Platten von ihm, die ich aber lange Zeit ignoriert habe. War es bei Dir auch so eine Inspiration aus der elterlichen Plattensammlung?
Definitiv, das war eine der ersten Sachen mit denen ich musikalisch in Berührung kam, schon als sehr kleines Kind. Vor allem meine Mutter hörte und hört immer noch gerne seine Musik. Diese frühe Prägung ist sicherlich einer der Gründe, weshalb mich die Musik von Leonard Cohen so berührt. Natürlich hatten meine Eltern auch noch andere Platten im Schrank stehen, die mir nicht so sehr ans Herz gewachsen sind – es gibt also noch andere Gründe, aus denen ich mich für Cohen so begeistern kann. Welche das sind – ich kann es nicht genau sagen. Ich glaube auch, wenn ich es genau wüsste, wäre die Begeisterung nicht so groß. Die wirkliche Beschäftigung mit Cohen kam auch erst, nachdem ich schon lange von zu Hause ausgezogen war. Damals gab es für mich eigentlich nur HipHop, Soul & Funk und elektronische Musik.
Auch wenn man sich anfänglich nicht für Leonard Cohen interessiert, wenn man ihn einmal gehört hat, erkennt man ihn sicherlich immer wieder. Seine Stimme, und seine Art Songs zu schreiben sind schon sehr eigen. Was macht ihn für Dich so besonders? Sind es bestimmte Einzelteile, oder ist es ein Gesamtbild?
Rein musikalisch ist es natürlich als aller erstes seine Stimme, die einen hohen Wiedererkennungswert hat – eigentlich keine im traditionellen Sinne besonders “schöne” Singstimme. Es ist oft eher eine Art Sprechgesang, nicht immer genau im Takt, manchmal fast schon brüchig. Zudem ist seine Art und Weise, mit Melodien und Harmonien umzugehen sehr eigen. Besonders in der Anfangsphase waren seine Arrangements auf den ersten Blick sehr minimalistisch, nur wenige Elemente, meist Akustikgitarre, Streicher, Frauenchöre und sparsam eingesetzte Rhythmuselemente, die jedoch in ihrem Zusammenspiel eine unheimliche Dichte erzeugen. Bei genauerem Hinhören kann man dann jedoch in beinahe jedem dieser Stücke versteckte Schichten freilegen, Effekte, leise Geräusche, teilweise sogar synthetisch anmutende Klänge. Was ihn zudem für mich einzigartig macht, ist seine Fähigkeit, seine Texte, obwohl voll von Metaphern und Bildern, dennoch sehr offen zu halten und dem Hörer die Möglichkeit zu geben, sein eigenes Leben in die Lieder hineinzulegen – ohne dabei beliebig zu wirken. Read the rest of this entry »
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