Right, we’re going to set it off with “Set It Off”. Basically with “Set It Off”, growing up in New York in the 70’s and 80’s, I grew up with my parents and my brother – my brother being a DJ since 1980, and there were a lot of musical roots in my household. I was always around music. Mostly disco and electro, stuff like that. Growing up with my parents in the 70’s, they were really big on disco and I was hearing everything from “Ten Percent” by Double Exposure to so many underground disco records, like from 76, Jimmy and the Vagabonds, or Crown Heights Affair. Old school disco. I always had roots in the family. My father also had a pretty big rock collection from the late 60’s – Sabbath, Zeppelin, psychedelic rock. That was played probably when I was really younger, but 74/75 my parents were already getting into disco at that time. The roots of the music were always there with me and I would buy records on the occasion. I remember buying Fatback Band’s “King Tim III” which was pretty much the first rap record, Michael Jackson – “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough”, “Let’s All Chant”, stuff like that. I was like 7 or 8 years old buying this stuff but I was never really into DJing at this time. My brother was the DJ. He was the one buying the records and DJing. He knew what was going on musically. I would say when I really first started to pay attention to music a lot, but I still was not a DJing, was around 83/84, and I was around 12 years old at the time and I was getting into graffiti which I was actually documenting on subway trains by photographs. I was travelling from Brooklyn to the Bronx. I was going everywhere with a camera – all four boroughs that had a subway system. The records at that time were a lot of electro stuff that was being played. A lot of freestyle like C-Bank’s “One More Shot” or “Al-Naafiysh” by Hashim. I still didn’t really know who the artists were and stuff like that, but I knew the records and heard them all the time on the radio. Around 84 I went to a break dancing club at a roller skating rink to watch a bunch of people battling, and I heard “Set It Off” for the first time. I don’t know what it was with that record but it fit all the movies I liked at that time: New York movies like The Warriors, Death Wish. It was just this dark record that was kind of like the soundtrack of New York City at the time, when New York City was just like in urban decay. On my way somewhere with my parents you would see all these abandoned building like in Berlin in 1945 in certain areas. Then taking the train to the South Bronx and seeing that…I have such a vivid memory of being on the Pelham subway line going to see one of the most famous Graffiti writers in New York called Seen, who was in the documentary Style Wars, and I befriended him when I was probably like 13. He used to airbrush t-shirts in a flea market. I don’t know why music always has a place in a moment that you can remember a certain situation. I can remember being in that flea market and then playing that track. It was just like the track of tracks. It was the soundtrack of graffiti, of New York, the rawness. When I got into techno in about 1990 and I went to trace back all the records that I’d been collecting and I would go back and listen to that record it just sounded so current. Not current to what techno was, but on the production level. When you listen to other electro records or freestyle records from that time, nothing has that 808 feel like “Set It Off” does. That production is just sick. The bassline. There’s really no other record from that time period, apart from maybe “Hip Hop Be Bop” or “Boogie Down Bronx”, that should have been the soundtrack to The Warriors. It’s just an amazing track. The irony of whole record being my favourite record is that it was produced on a label located in Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn, so that record was made probably two miles from where I lived. I guess Walter Gibbons produced Strafe, but it was made in Brooklyn. It’s a 100% Brooklyn. That record… the build up, the vocals, just everything about it…I could listen to it over and over again on repeat mode.
Would you say they produced a prototype with this? It’s a lot darker than most of the electro productions around that time.
I think it’s definitely the prototype for a lot of the future electro stuff that was coming out through the techno scene in the 90’s. Anybody making electro music at that time had to know that record. You have “Planet Rock” and you have “Clear” by Cybotron but that record just stands out for me. It’s such a better record. I love the other records but when I hear “Set It Off” the goose bumps come up. It sounds like something from a John Carpenter movie. It could be from “Assault On Precinct 13”, even if you can’t mess with that soundtrack. It is in the same mode as that. It gives the same feeling, and the same vibe and mood. Those eerie chord strings in the back and the bassline. You can’t mess with it.
> Ryuichi Sakamoto – Riot In Lagos
The next one is “Riot in Lagos” by Ryuichi Sakamoto.
This is an interesting track that Bones had turned me onto in probably sometime in the early to mid 90’s. He was refreshing my memory on records that were on when we used to go to roller skating rinks, and one of the other records was Kasso’s “Key West”. I remember he was playing all these records and I was like flabbergasted by the sounds and the music and how futuristic it was for 80’/81′. The thing was when I got into techno and I realised what electronic music was, and I’m hearing Bones and Lenny Dee – this is the 808, this is the 909 – trying to get my head around all these machines, and Bones was playing me records later on saying “these are the first 808 records, or 909 drum rhythm records”, and I never looked at the music I was listening to in the early 80’s, like Kraftwerk, as electronic music or acoustic music – I never made that difference in my head. I never sat there and thought “Oh, I like music with synthesisers”. When I heard this Sakamoto record, I kind of recalled hearing it but it didn’t really ring a bell in a big way for me. But it did ring my bell. [laughs] I was like “Whoa! What the fuck is this?” because I guess it’s got that Eastern, Asian kind of melody sound to it. That is a one of a kind record. There is nothing that sounds like that. I have never, ever heard another record ever sound like that. It cannot be copied.
It even sounded different to the sound Sakamoto was doing with Yellow Magic Orchestra.
Yeah. There is another Sakamoto record that I got a little later on, once I realised who he was, that is quite rare. Not many people know it, it’s called “Lexington Queen”. It’s amazing. It was released as a 12” and also a 45 as well. I probably should have been digging a little deeper on Sakamoto stuff, when I was doing my East kind of record shopping ten years ago, when I was looking for all this 80’s stuff. But I heard a few things by him that didn’t hit me the way those two records hit me. But “Riot In Lagos” is just a special record, what a special piece of electronic music. It’s up there with Kraftwerk.
It is pioneering electronic music, but from a very different angle.
Again, it’s got that Japanese sound to it. Whatever Japanese electronic music was in the 80’s, I don’t really know much about it, but this is a brilliant track. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with iamelectron on “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” by Primal Scream (1991).
This single is an outtake of Primal Scream’s seminal “Screamadelica” album. What is so important to you about this track that you chose to discuss it, and not the whole album?
The album as a whole is an amazing creation (excuse the pun) but it’s “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” that means the most to me. Every time I hear it I’m back in 1991 and it still gets the hairs standing up. It’s one of those songs that I’ll never be able to disassociate from the state, time or place I was in when I heard it.
How do you have 1991 in mind, especially compared to the years shortly before and after? What made that year special?
The summer of 1991 was a major point in my life. It was when I decided to pack in Art College and give the DJ game a serious go. I’ve been around electronic dance music in one form or another for quite a while. I was, and still am a huge fan of New Order, and some friends and I started a Joy Division/New Order cover band at school called Funeral in Berlin. I had the bass and the pony tail so I was Hooky, haha! Then I got involved in a Goth Disco band. Don’t laugh! We covered Dead or Alive, Sylvester, The Fine Young Cannibals and our Hi-Nrg version of “Jolene” was legendary (to about five people). So I was really into the sound of drum machines and synths. But it wasn’t until I went to Edinburgh Art College in ’89 that house and techno really hit me. I stayed in halls of residence for my first year. In the room around the corner from me was this guy from Aberdeen and he was always with this girl from college that I had the major hots for but was too shy to approach. So one day I went up and introduced myself to him in the hope that he’d introduce me to said lovely lady. I never got the girl, but I did get introduced to Acid House. My new friend lent me copies of “The House Sound of Chicago” and the first Jackmaster compilation, and I was blown away by the rawness of it. So I started hunting down more records. I’d done a few bits of DJ’ing before, playing at indie disco things with a few electronic tracks thrown in; Factory releases, Tackhead, Nitzer Ebb, early Ministry/Revolting Cocks, The Residents that sort of stuff – and now I was sticking in these new House tracks, completely unmixed I must add because I had no concept of how to put two records together at that point. I started to meet more people at college who were into the House scene and we’d head down to nights like UFO; a short lived weekly party in Edinburgh that Optimo’s JD Twitch ran before he created the infamous PURE night (with his DJ partner Brainstorm).
Then in 1990 Glasgow became the European City of Culture and with that came late licensing laws and Atlantis at the Sub Club (with residents Harri and Slam) so we’d head over there and got to catch the first touring DJ’s like the Boys Own and Flying gangs. Then a friend and I started driving down from Scotland to London to go to clubs there. I was being consumed by House! By now I’d completely lost interest in actually getting a degree and to my parent’s dismay I moved back home (home being St Andrews, a very small, very insular University town on the East Coast of Scotland) to ‘take a year out’. I’d unintentionally timed my move with the opening of a night in the nearby city of Dundee called the Rumba Club, and from the spring of 1991 to Christmas of that year it was absolute chaos! During those eight months Weatherall played three times – and on his second visit he dropped “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” as his very last song. I had never heard a reaction to a record like the one he received that night – and I don’t think I’ve heard a reaction like it since. When the whistle noise, stuttering percussion and that wobbly bass line started the place erupted – it was madness!!! I’d love to hear a recording of his set because I’m sure he was mixing both sides; starting with the A side and then moving onto the “Scat Mix”. When that deep, deep, bass noise he briefly uses in the track came on the place went up another gear. So I’m on a packed dance floor going nuts to “Don’t Fight It Feel It”, surrounded by all my friends who are going nuts and whack – epiphany time! Sod college, sod everything else…I want to do what he (Weatherall) is doing! So I left the club that night…“and he was never the same again”. Yip, 1991 and this track will always be really important to me.
Ich fand immer die Geschichten vom New Yorker Brill Building faszinierend, ein Gebäude in New York, in dem von Ende der 50er bis Mitte der 60er später legendäre Songwriter wie Goffin/King, Greenwich/Weil, Barry Mann, Neil Sedaka und viele mehr in stickigen Winzbüros versuchten, Jugendkultur in großartigen Popsongs abzubilden, den Druck der Stechuhr und der Arbeitgeber nur mit Talent, Belastbarkeit und erheblichen Kenntnissen ihrer Materie die Stirn bietend. So ungnädig diese Arbeitsweise war (alle Beschäftigten wollten eigentlich nur so schnell wie möglich da raus), die örtliche Begrenzung stand großen Gedankenfluchten entgegen, man hörte der Musik ihre anstrengende Entstehung nicht an und viele dieser Songs sind heute Klassiker der Popgeschichte, die perfekte Umsetzung der Träume ihres Zielpublikums. ”Songs For Joy“ ist ein Konzept, mit dem Carsten ”Erobique“ Meyer, Jacques Palminger und Chris Dietermann jeweils einmal in den letzten drei Jahren das Berliner Maxim Gorki Theater besetzt hatten. Jeder war eingeladen, Ideen, Fragmente und Texte dort abzugeben, und in den folgenden zwei Wochen machten sich die drei daran, daraus Songs entstehen zu lassen, die dann in einer Abschlussgala aufgeführt wurden, unter Mitwirkung der vom Musikbusiness größtenteils unvorbelasteten Einsender. Die Herangehensweise war bzw. ist dabei sicherlich etwas ungezwungener als in der obigen Hitfabrik, aber der Anspruch, in kürzester Zeit aus einer Fremdidee einen möglichst zeitlosen und großartigen Popmoment zu schaffen, ist auch hier unverkennbar, und der lässt sich nur einlösen, wenn man Pop wirklich begriffen hat. Dieses Album ist eine Werkschau der unter diesen Bedingungen entstandenen Songs, und es löst den Anspruch nicht nur ein, es ist womöglich das aufrichtigste, unmittelbarste, smarteste, rührendste und liebevollste Statement, das in diesem Land erscheinen konnte, wo Pop immer noch regelmäßig entweder an diffusen Internationalitäts- oder Diskursminderwertigkeitskomplexen zerschellt. Die Kombination der unbedarften aber dadurch absolut nicht minder klugen Texte mit dem Kompositions- und Improvisationstalent der Gastgeber, von unzähligen Bühnenauftritten und innig geliebter und gelebter Musik zwischen Northern Soul und Tropicália, Style Council-Popperpop, Pazifiksonne-Softrock und Chansondisco, großen Balladeuren und vergessenen Randfiguren befeuert, ist schlichtweg wundervoll, und stellt der nicht schweigenden Mehrheit hiesiger Popproduktion mit Ursprung zwischen Fließband und Diskussionsrunde ein seitenlanges Armutszeugnis aus. Mancher kann diese Musik vielleicht nicht verkraften, ohne sich einen Ironiemasterplan oder sonstige Schattenkonzepte einzureden. Aber mancher sollte vielleicht einfach mal versuchen wirklich zu hören, was es hier zu hören gibt: große Umarmungen, große Herzen und große Freude.
For me, there are two approaches to recording a mix. The first is to take a lot of time in thinking of a smart and coherent concept, to then carefully select the according music and plan its transitions, and later, record the whole thing and make it public. There are plenty of my sets on the internet where I have done exactly that, with quite some variety of styles and ideas, and for a variety of reasons and purposes, too. These mixes are often schooled by the mixtapes I compiled for as long as I can remember (for girlfriends, friends and maybe some yet invisible target audience). My mixes of that kind have gotten more refined over the years. At some point, I started to mix music, and the amount of people such a set finally reaches has grown considerably. But the method, more or less, has stayed the same.
The second approach is to record a set while you’re playing in the club. Of course, the selection and execution in that context is different. I usually bring as many records as possible that I would like to dance to if I would be attending the club that very night, and then I combine them as it makes most sense to me in the given situation of the party. I try to avoid repeating combinations with each gig. For me, the fun part of mixing is to try and test new sequences. This can run the risk of a hit-and-miss in outcome (often depending on how inspired or concentrated I am), but in my mind, the possibility of failure is far less uncomfortable than relying on playlists of which I have already explored or experienced the success or functionality of. In short, I try to stay open to the surprises the music has on offer, and I try to pass that on to the crowd.
As Modifyer asked me for a guest mix, I quickly thought of doing something I had never done before: a combination of the two approaches mentioned above. At the time, there were no concepts left in my mind waiting to be released in a set (and admittedly, I also had so many other things to take care of that I found it difficult to come up with another or a better idea). If such ideas don’t strike you right away, they are mostly not worth being carried out anyway. What I did spend some thought on, however, was the music I wanted to play at Macro’s imminent label residency at Panorama Bar on the 10th of October 2009. I decided to leave the records in my box in the exact order I would play them at the gig, and re-record the set as soon as possible, with the memory of the proceedings still vivid. And thus I did, a day later. Naturally, the way the set now sounds is different to the live situation of the club; the mixing is tighter in parts, probably less frantic, and I could already tell where to mix in from what I could still remember of playing the music as it happened. Still, it was very interesting to repeat the experience, and it was also very interesting to take a second look at the choices I made in the intensity and immediacy of the night.
The night itself was a wonderful experience. We had just released the album “Catholic” by Patrick Cowley & Jorge Socarras and its accompanying singles. For the occasion, my label partner, Stefan Goldmann, and I invited Serge Verschuur from Clone Records and our friend Hunee to play. We knew that both would deliver the dynamic diversity we had in mind to celebrate what we had worked on for so long. I was due to play the last set, from 8 a.m. to 10.30 a.m. Unfortunately, I had a severe cold resurfacing, so I took some hours rest before arriving at the club at around 4 a.m. I could tell right away that the vibe of the club was a bit different to other nights there. Dubfire was on for Berghain, and judging from the queue I passed on my way to the entrance, the people interested in hearing him play seemed other than the regular crowd. I didn’t mind that at all, but as I made my way through Berghain, I kept running into friends who were telling me that there was more trouble at the door than usual. The music was different, too. I paused to listen to Dubfire’s set. While the monolithic pulse of the techno sound associated with Berghain was there, it somehow lacked the tension and groove that I need to lock me. I went upstairs to Panorama Bar to check what was going on there instead.
Serge was in the midst of a blinding set of classic and contemporary house and techno. The crowd was well into it. Hunee followed suit marvelously, steering the proceedings to more cheerful shores, and adding some classic disco and anthemic vocal moments. There were smiling faces enough, familiar and unfamiliar, to convince me that the night turned out to be what we hoped for, and then some. As I took over, I had the feeling that I should take another direction musically. I felt very tired and numbed by the fever the flu brought along. To start, I thought that I should kick myself into action with the music, hoping that the dancers would follow my way. Picking Heaven 17 to follow up Hunee’s last record, Code 718’s blissful “Equinox”, was admittedly a bit bold and therefore received some confused looks, but then in the course of the set, things quickly fell into line. Flicking through my box, every next record seemed to be waiting in place, already offering its services to make the night one to remember. When I left the club, near Sunday noon, into the same mean cold drizzle I entered from several hours before, the music continued to thump in my head and there were indeed a lot of wonderful memories to keep. On Monday, I refreshed myself, had a good breakfast and then recorded this set right away in one take, in order to not let any of those memories slip away.
“For Burt, the 5th ‘B in no particular order – Beethoven, Brahms, Berlin, Bach and Bacharach.” (Ira Gershwin)
Matt Monro – Alfie Burt Bacharach – No One Remembers My Name Burt Bacharach – I Might Frighten Her Away Stephanie Mills – All The Way To Paradise The Walker Brothers – Make It Easy On Yourself Robin Wilson – A House Is Not Home Burt Bacharach – One Less Bell To Answer Burt Bacharach – Us Burt Bacharach – Wanting Things Tommy Hunt – I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself Herb Alpert – The Guy’s In Love With You Burt Bacharach – Lost Horizon Burt Bacharach – I Took My Strength From You Dionne Warwick – If I Ever Make You Cry Burt Bacharach – The Young Grow Younger Every Day Burt Bacharach – The Balance Of Nature Burt Bacharach – Seconds Herb Alpert – To Wait For Love Dusty Springfield – The Look Of Love Burt Bacharach – I Come To You The Carpenters – (They Long To Be) Close To You Burt Bacharach – Another Spring Will Rise Dionne Warwick – Here I Am Stephanie Mills – The Way I Feel About You Burt Bacharach – Trains And Boats And Planes Al Martino – I’m A Better Man Burt Bacharach – Hassbrook Heights Shirelles – It’s Love That Really Counts (In The Long Run) Jackie De Shannon – Come And Get Me Jack Jones – Wives And Lovers The Drifters – Let The Music Play Chuck Jackson – Any Day Now Burt Bacharach – All Kinds Of People Stephanie Mills – I See You For The First Time Jackie DeShannon – What The World Needs Now Is Love Burt Bacharach – Nikki Nancy Wilson – Reach Out For Me Andy Williams – Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head Roland Shaw & His Orchestra – Let The Love Come Through Dionne Warwick – Any Old Time Of The Day The Stylistics – You’ll Never Get To Heaven (If You Break My Heart) Stephanie Mills – If You Can Learn How To Cry Dionne Warwick – Don’t Make Me Over Cilla Black – Anyone Who Had A Heart Burt Bacharach – Long Ago Tomorrow
Berlin’s Finest Hunee schreitet auf seiner EP für W.T. auch als Produzent majestätisch die Ländereien zwischen Spezial-Disco und -House ab, die er als DJ schon seit geraumer Zeit gehörig im Griff hat. „Tour De Force“ ist ein verspulter Premium-Boogie auf Billy Frazier-Fundament, der sich mit einem beachtlichem Soundarsenal auf einen langen Weg macht, etliche Haken schlägt und dann unvermittelt in schönsten Lichtungen auftaucht. Bei „Cut Down Trees“ hüpfen die Beats und Basslines wie aufgekratzte Spatzen auf dem Telegraphenmast übereinander und werden periodisch von Abendsonne-Flächen gebändigt, und gute Freunde von Cajual und Relief grüßen im Vorbeigehen von unten herauf. Auf der anderen Seite der grandiose Tiefflieger „Rare Silk“, der sich in der Originalversion an Boo Williams, und im Remix an Chez Damier und Ron Trent anlehnt, und dabei verdammt blendend aussieht.
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