To Underground Resistance’s early fans, it wasn’t surprising when the Detroit outfit released club music with vocals. Mike Banks produced the garage house group Members Of The House, which released a 1987 album and a string of acclaimed vocal EPs. The first release on UR’s main label, Your Time Is Up, featured the singer Yolanda and a take on the sound Kevin Saunderson made popular with Inner City, backed with remixes that hinted at what the determinedly underground techno sound would become.
When they released “Living For The Nite” in 1991, again with Yolanda, it was already clear that vocal house was an integral part of UR’s sound. It worked with their rolling, pumping grooves. But the success of their pure techno overshadowed these moments, especially when the European press portrayed UR as a Detroit techno counterpart to hip-hops‘s Public Enemy, noting the masked personas of Mike Banks and Jeff Mills, and their unmasked political attitude. Different strands of the UR sound were eventually channeled into separate outlets, and thus Happy Records came into being, serving as the label for house productions from 1992 to 1994. (It was followed by the sister label Happy Soul.)
Happy Records soon established itself with positive releases produced with frequent collaborators like Niko Marks, Yolanda and Bridgett Grace, the latter a former vocalist of the 1989 club hit “Take Me Away” by the UR predecessor True Faith. Her “Love To The Limit” was a fine example of how well Banks’s production worked with an anthemic vocal. And yet those accomplished records, even if they were recognisable as UR productions with a distinctive signature sound, could still be placed in the early vocal house canon of 1992, before house music reached the huge crowds of later years.
In 1992, vocal house was not as punchy as it would become. Most garage records paired their sweet melodies with swinging, elegant grooves. Usually, the “main mix” of a track was that tune in all its glory, while the more daring ideas were kept for the dubs and instrumental versions. But then Davina‘s “Don’t You Want It” arrived, produced by Mike Banks. It was a mighty tune that worked within the conventions of vocal house while also shaking its foundations.
First, there was the intro, where dynamic chords were waiting to be teased by the DJ. When I heard the intro for the first time, it reminded me of David Morales’s mix of Black Sheep’s “Strobelite Honey,” albeit on another level. The track unfolds into a hybrid of uplifting, soulful garage and UR’s deeper techno sound (heard in tracks like “Sometimes I Feel Like” and “Jupiter Jazz“), adding layers of bittersweet pads and dramatic starts and stops.
And Davina? Unlike most vocal tracks, she isn’t heard until a heavenly break around three minutes in. The track was already perfect, but the magic really happens when she begins to sing. The lyrics neglect conventional verse-refrain structure, instead choosing a direct, personal conversation with the dancers. At seven minutes, the track certainly isn’t short, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s sad when it fades out.
The high point for any producer is to make a track that reaches classic status. It’s even better when that recognition comes from different scenes and styles. “Don’t You Want It” works within almost any context, from small night to a large rave, uniting more crowds in instant happiness than almost any other. As soon as you hear it, you will definitely want it. And more of it, again and again.
We should probably start at the very beginning. What were your baby steps as a DJ, what led you to being a DJ in the first place?
I think in the first place was the love for music. And I can remember when I was really, really young, with a babysitter, and we’re talking about the days of 45s. The first record that I actually remember and I was spinning was „Spinning Wheel“ by Blood, Sweat & Tears.
Good choice.
You know my family was from Puerto Rico and there was no American music in my house.
It was mostly Latin music?
Only Latin music. And we’re talking about Merengue, Salsa. Folk music from Puerto Rico. And I didn’t like it. And it’s funny because today I appreciate Latin music. Since I became a producer, now I appreciate Latin music for the production, the instrumentation, the musicians, because Latin music is not machine-made, not at all. So the first 45 that was in my house was “Jungle Fever” by Chakachas. My parents had this fucking 45 that was this erotic fucking record. And we’re talking about these stereos that were like these big fucking wooden consoles with the big tuner for the radio and the thing with the record where you put some records in the thing and it dropped one at a time and when it ended the thing drops. It must’ve been when I was about six or seven there was an illegal social club. You know I was living in the ghetto. So there were illegal social clubs that were like a black room, with day-glo spray paint, fluorescent lights to make the paint glow and they had a jukebox. And they’d play the music back then. „Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are“. It was all about the O’Jays and that kind of music. And I liked that. I used to sneak downstairs and such.
So when was that?
It was like the late sixties. Because I was born in ’62 so by ’70 that makes I was 8 years old. So it was before that because then I moved. Anyway, so fast forward the first 45 that I liked was the O’Jays. The first 45 I actually bought. And I remember playing that record I a hundred times a day. Putting the bullshit speaker we had in the house outside the window, we lived on the first floor. I played the record to death.
So you played it to the whole neighborhood?
The whole neighborhood. The only record I had really. So then when I graduated elementary school, I used to be into dancing, like the Jackson 5 they had “Dancing Machine”, there were The Temptations and Gladys Knight & The Pips and I liked that music. So then when we got into Junior High School – when I was like 13 years old, I had a girlfriend and we went out when the first DJs came on in the neighborhood, which was like the black DJs. I saw the first two Technics set up and a mixer in someone’s house. I was like “Wow! That’s interesting.” I saw somebody doing this non-stop disco mix and I never knew what that was all about. So, I used to hang out with all my friends. I was a dancer, we used to do all this what we now call breakdancing. We would do battles. So, I had one turntable and my friend would say “David, we hangin’ at my place” and I would play some music for us. So I just was a kid that sat by the stereo with the records and put on the tunes, one at a time. Because back then that’s what it was, you’d play one tune at a time. If it ended, the people clapped and you’d play the next tune. And it was all songs.
How did you proceed from there?
I was one of those kids that used to go to the record store even though I had no money. Just to look at the records. To walk by a store that sold turntables and a mixer and be like “one day, one day…” And I’m not working so I can’t afford to buy anything. My first mixer was a Mic mixer. 1977 there was a blackout in New York and there was a lot of stealing so I came across a radio shack little Mic mixer that I set up to make it work with two turntables. You had to turn two knobs at the same time and it was like mixing braille because there was no cueing. My one turntable had pitch control, the other one had none. I was too young to go to clubs, so I never saw a proper DJ mixing. I only saw people outside, we would have block parties and people would be mixing. And I was one of those kids that was just standing there, watching. The first time I went to a club I was 15 years old, it was Starship Discovery One. It was on 42nd street in Times Square, and we got in. We shouldn’t have got in, but you know it was the end of the club, I was 15 and I got in. The DJ had three Technics, the original 1200s, and a Bozak mixer. The booth was a bubble, and I had my nose at the fucking bubble and I was just mesmerized. The first time I actually played on a real mixer I went to a house party at my friend’s brothers apartment. And in those days, most of the DJs who were really playing were gay DJs. “San Francisco” by the Village People was the big record. But I was into The Trammps, I was into James Brown, I was into Eddie Kendricks, Jimmy Castor Bunch, “The Mexican”, Sam Records and of course Donna Summer and all this kind of stuff. So I went to this house party and he was the DJ, the first proper mixer I saw – this was before I went to that club. And it was a black mixer, it had two faders and it had cueing. So I see the DJ there, he’s using headphones to cue. So my friend says “D, you wanna play some music?” and I’m like “Yeah, sure.” I grabbed the headphones, put them on and I hit the cueing, because I was watching the guy, and I’m hearing some music and and I was like “Oh shit…” When I played at that party, I’d still play how I know how to play, which was braille. Intro, outro. And it wasn’t about mixing. All the new bars at that time were advertising nonstop disco mixes.
It was even mentioned on the record sleeves.
Yes. And all that meant was that the music never stopped. Because before the music used to stop before the next record came in. So now it was continuous. That worked, so here came the name nonstop disco mix. And then at that time all these records started coming out. The disco 45 record. At my junior high school prom “Doctor Love” by First Choice was big. And I remember the guy playing it about four times. So my first 12″ of course was “Ten Percent” by Double Exposure, on Salsoul. Another record that I played to death out the window.
You were still doing that?
I was still doing that. I used to live to just play music. I loved it. I would leave in the morning to go to school because my parents would go to work. I would buy a bag of weed, buy a quart of beer and I would go home. And you know in the old days we had all those buildings where you could really play loud music and I had these stupid double 18 boxes in my fucking bedroom. Before I’d take a piss, I turned my system up. My mother used to be like “turn that music down, turn that music down, turn that music down!”
Did you begin to play out around that time?
Yes, and playing at parties in those days meant you carried your records. Because you didn’t play for two hours, you played the whole party. And the thing is, if you owned 5000 records, you took 5000 records to the party. And in those days we carried milk crates. So here I am carrying eight to ten milk crates to a party. Getting in a car, getting a cab, you have all your friends who would help you going there, but when you’re leaving there is nobody to help. And you had to take the stereo system with you. So you carry the sound system and you carried your records. You took everything. It wasn’t like going somewhere and you just bring your records and they have everything. You had to take everything. I did parties for 15 dollars, for 25 dollars and you had to chase people down for your money.
What kind of events were you doing?
I played in clubs, I did Sweet Sixteens, I did weddings, I did corporate events. I did anything. I also did parties in high school. I would advertise a party, we would bring the sound system to some kid’s house, the parents left to go to work, we’d bring the sound system fast, and I would advertise free beer and free joints. Even 50 people is a lot of people in somebody’s apartment. Imagine we’d take over the apartment and it’s like 10 in the morning and we’d be fucking banging it, banging it, banging it — and we’d get out by 3 in the afternoon before the person’s parents come home. God knows the mess, whatever the case, baby. And in those days the sound system was in the living room, the DJ booth in the bedroom. No monitors, it was just bang bang bang. As I started doing parties at an apartment I used to charge a dollar to get in, decorate the apartment, put up balloons, and it just started with friends. Obviously still free beers, free joints, the whole thing. And like I said, I just loved the music, it was just everything for me. I wanted to play every single day. Even when I didn’t have the equipment, I knew friends that bought decks and a mixer and a small sound system for their house and they weren’t DJs and they used to say “David, come to my house and play music for me.” And I would just die to play, it was just everything for me. Read the rest of this entry »
Joanna Law – Love Is Not Enough (Mix D’Ambience) Dusty Springfield – Nothing Has Been Proved (Dance Mix) Dusty Springfield – Nothing Has Been Proved (Instrumental Version) 82 Carlene Davis – Dial My Number (Morales Club Mix) Nikki – Summer Breeze (Club Mix) Adeva – Beautiful Love (Instru-Mental) Adeva – Beautiful Love (Classic Club Mix) Carlton – Love And Pain (Drum & Bass Mix) Luther Vandross – The Rush (Morales 12″ Mix) The Cover Girls – Wishing On A Star (12“ Mix) The Chimes – Stronger Together (Red Zone Mix) Pet Shop Boys – How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously? (Mo Mo Remix) The Pasadenas – Reeling (Daytime Dance Mix) Soul Family Sensation – I Don’t Even Know If I Should Call You Marshall Jefferson (Piano) Soul Family Sensation – I Don’t Even Know If I Should Call You Marshall Jefferson (Symphony) Azizi – Don’t Say That It’s Over (The Classic Club Version) Banderas – This Is Your Life (Less Stress Mix) Mica Paris – Contribution (Peace Out Mix) Drizabone – Brightest Star (David Morales Classic Club Mix) Victoria Wilson-James – Through (Classic Club Mix) The Family Stand – Ghetto Heaven (Remix) Saint Etienne – Only Love Can Break Your Heart (Kenlou B-Boy Mix) Loose Ends – Hangin’ On A String (Frankie Knuckles Club Mix) The Sounds Of Blackness – Optimistic (12″ Never Say Die Mix) Swing Out Sister – Notgonnachange (Classic Club Mix) Alexander O’Neal – All True Man (Classic Club Mix) Richard Rogers – Can’t Stop Loving You (Morales Sleaze Mix) Frankie Knuckles – It’s Hard Sometime (D.M Red Zone) Frankie Knuckles – It’s Hard Sometime (F.K. Classic Club Mix) Rufus & Chaka Khan – Ain’t Nobody (Hallucinogenic Version)
Now we’re the king of the swingers, the jungle VIPs. We’ve reached the top and had to stop and that’s what’s botherin’ us. So we want to be like the other people, people, and stroll right into town. We’re tired of monkeyin’ around!
Here, have a banana.
Smoke City – Aguas De Marco (Restless Soul Movement) The Neville Brothers – Fly Like An Eagle (Slippin’ Dub) Julio Iglesias – Guajira/Oye Como Va (Un Beso Dub) Tom Tom Club – You Sexy Thing (Deep Bass) J. – The Promise (Deep Dub Mix) Rodeo Jones – Natural World (Reese Deep Mix) Bette Midler – To Deserve You (MK Dub 1) Trey Lorenz – Photograph Of Mary (Bass Hit Dub) Definition Of Sound – Pass The Vibes (In House Mix) Queen Latifah – Come Into My House (Zanzibar Mix) Kiss AMC – A Bit Of… Paul McCartney – Ou Est Le Soleil? Pet Shop Boys – Where The Streets Have No Name (David Morales Remix) U2 – Lemon (Bad Yard Club) Pet Shop Boys – So Hard (Red Zone Mix) Siouxsie And The Banshees – Fear (House Of Fear Extended) Grace Jones – Love On Top Of Love – Killer Kiss (The Cole & Clivilles Garage House Mix) Les Negresses Vertes – Mambo Show (Tee’s Freeze Instrumental) Les Negresses Vertes – Mambo Show (Tee’s Freeze Mix – The Shulimambo Edit) Patricia Kaas – Reste Sur Moi (BlueVelvet Mix) Jodeci – You Got It (Mack Dub) Deee-Lite – Call Me (Ralphi Rosario Extended LP Mix) Herb Alpert – North On South St. (Deep Dub Version) The Associates – Fire To Ice (Late Night Frozen Beats) Ryuichi Sakamoto – Love And Hate (Love Mix) Shakespear’s Sister – Black Sky (Dub Extravaganza Part II) Prince – The Future (Remix) Raven Maize – The Real Life (Original 12” Mix) Different Gear Vs. The Police – When The World Is Running Down (Original Bootleg Mix) Par-T-One Vs. INXS – I’m So Crazy (Original Mix) Finley Quaye – Spiritualized (Vibin’ Vocal Mix) The Beloved – Deliver Me (Eau De Livami Vocal)
Ich möchte heute die Rubrik dazu nutzen, um auf ein eher weniger beachtetes Opfer der Musikwirtschaftskrise hinzuweisen: den housigen Undergroundmix für normalerweise nicht housige Artists. In Zeiten, in denen Remixbudgets von Majorlabels die Beträge für die Praktikantenbetreuung nicht mehr übersteigen dürfen, A&R-Leute mit noch wesentlich mehr Verspätung ein Ohr von außen an die Mauern der Clubs halten, oder sich allgemein eingeredet wird, der Auftragsproduzent des Originaltracks könne die Dance-Version bestimmt auch gut machen, können sie nicht mehr wohl gedeihen, die seltsamen Blüten, die entstehen, wenn Bürostrategen, die nicht tanzen, auf Produzenten treffen, die nur bedingt in Chartsnotierungen denken. Die Blütezeit dieser Untergattung der House-Historie ist von den spätern 80ern bis Mitte der 90er datierbar, als krude Illusionen von Tanzflächenkredibilität gepaart mit prallen Marketingkampfkassen auf die Crème de la Crème der Clubkultur trafen, oder auch nur auf die Auftragsallzwecktypen, die sich für keinen Auftragsallzweck zu schade waren. Letztere gab es in der Clubkultur schon seit immerdar. Konzentrieren wir uns also lieber auf die Ersteren. Und vernachlässigen wir auch die Grundvorrausetzung dieser schiefen Konstellationen, nämlich dass sowohl Auftraggeber als auch Interpret das Endergebnis völlig gleichgültig ist, bis hin zur kompletten Verleugnung desselben bzw. peinlicher Zurschaustellung von nicht einmal Einviertelfachwissen, wenn die Dance-Version unerwarteterweise die Originalversion in Verkaufszahlen übertrumpft. Demgegenüber liefern die housigen Undergroundmixer zumeist genau das, was den nicht housigen Artists nur allzu offensichtlich fehlt. Die selbstverständliche Anbindung an Geschrei und Arme in der Luft, Schweiß, Sex und Tränen der Augenblicks-Ekstase und des Wochenendglücks. Und den Beweis, dass die jeweilige Zauberformel mit jedem Interpreten und Song funktioniert, solange man sich die Werktreue für die Radioversion aufhebt, und in den Dub- und Instrumentalversionen den dicken Hund von der Leine lässt. Es gibt sehr sehr viele Platten, wo dieses Prinzip hervorragend funktioniert, und dann Menschen auf der Tanzfläche zu Interpreten ausflippen, über die sie im Tagesgeschehen nicht einmal nachdenken würden. Indiskutables Popgeträller wird zu rhythmisch zerhackten Samples ohne stimmlichen Wiedererkennungswert, und Masters At Work machen aus Debbie Gibson, MK aus Bette Midler, DJ Pierre aus Donny Osmond, Shep Pettibone aus Paul McCartney, oder David Morales aus U2 unantastbare Clubikonen, für die Dauer des Tracks zumindest. One Little Indian hatte z. B. 1991 die merkwürdige Idee, ihre hauseigenen Indie-Superstars, die Sugarcubes, mit einem ganzen Remixalbum in der Clubszene zu vertäuen. Darauf waren, einige Mixe stinkenfaul, einige am Thema noch mehr vorbei als überhaupt befürchtet, einige uninteressant, einige interessant und einige waren echte Prachtexponate. Klarer Sieger des Wettbewerbs war für mich Tony Humphries, der seine schon anderswo demonstrierte Fähigkeit, großzügig eine Schicht New Jersey-Zauber über artfremde Musik zu legen, hier noch weit übertraf. Und er schaffte es, obwohl er sowohl alle kaprioligen Gesangsmanierismen der Sängerin unangetastet ließ, als auch dem knurrigen Sängerhünen seinen Lauf ließ. Im wunderbaren Klanguniversum von Humphries zu seiner besten Schaffensphase hat das alles seinen Platz, und wird zudem noch von allerlei feinsten Geistesblitzen erhellt. Für Humphries mag das nur eine Episode geblieben sein, aber Björk kehrte nie wieder zu Schrammelpop zurück, und für alle anderen war es ein gleißendes Himmelslicht im zwielichtigen Dunst von Körpern und Substanzen.
„This wasn’t supposed to happen, I was happy by myself, accidentally, you seduced me, I’m in love again“.
The Sugarcubes – Leash Called Love / Hit (One Little Indian, 1991)
Johnny Dynell war als DJ in den 80er Jahren eine Schlüsselfigur der Downtown New York Szene. In legendären Clubs wie Area, Mudd, Limelight, Pyramid und der Danceteria dirigierte er die Hipster-, Künstler- und Fashionista-Parade durch die Nacht. Danach trubelten House und die Club Kids durch die Stadt, und Dynell eröffnete 1990 mit anderen geschlechtlich undefinierten Glamgestalten den Club Jackie 60, der irgendwo zwischen Drag, Performance Art und reinem Wahnsinn die Vorlage für die Dekadenzkultur und Verhaltensabnormen der Großkathedralen späterer Jahre wie Tunnel, Sound Factory und Limelight bildete, und sich mit einer kuriosen Eigentribut-Deep-House-Conferencier-Platte namens „Jackie 60 Hustle“ und in Bälde auch mit Jackie 60: The Movie zelebrierte. Diese Platte hier ist aber nicht die vielleicht zu erwartende völlig überkostümierte Do’s and Don’ts-Liste mit viel zuviel Make-Up, sondern ein hymnischer Popstarversuch. Eine herzzerreißende Deep House-Ballade mit wahrlich fulminantem Personal: Arthur Baker produziert, Eric Kupper spielt, Victor Simonelli editiert, Jocelyn Brown, Connie Harvey und Tina B singen mit, und David Morales defmixt in seiner unverkennbaren Red Zone-Phase, die mit dem dicken Bass und den kühlen Flächen. Dynell füllt die Crooner-Pose überraschend gut aus, und das Ganze ist auch mit dem nötigen Ernst dargeboten, nur am Ende kommt ein gesprochener Part in dem der Sänger die Liebe seines Lebens zum Bleiben beschwört, und diese nur unbeschwert und gewissenlos in Richtung des nächsten Typen stöhnt. So war es damals, große Gesten und exaltierte Hinterhalte, aber man war von den ganzen Behauptungskämpfen noch nicht so abgestumpft, dass man nicht auch eine Platte wie diese hier in den Szeneklatsch werfen konnte.
Die erste von drei Doppel-EPs, sozusagen der Vorwaschgang des Anfang nächsten Jahres erscheinenden Albums ‘Virgin Ubiquity – Remixed’. Das Erbe des Altmeisters soll natürlich würdig gepflegt werden, also lässt man nicht David Morales ‚Running Away’ für den Main Floor aufbocken, aber IDM-Dekonstruktionen stehen auch nicht gerade an. Eher schon fragt man bei Osunlade an, ob er nicht aus ‚Tarzan’ seinen patentierten hüpfenden Deep House bauen kann, mit afrozentrischer Anbindung und eingebauter Spirituell-Garantie. Das wird Freunde auf den esoterischeren Tanzflächen der Metropolen finden, daher auch gleich in zwei Versionen. Für den Nu Yorica-Bereich macht Aloe Blacc von Stones Throw aus ‚Liquid Love’ einen relaxten Latin-Shuffle, die Platinum Pied Pipers denken sich ‚Funk In The Hole’ als kompakten Jazz Funk Boogie der sich ulkig zäh im Groove dahin zieht, Sunshine wird von Amalgamation Of Soundz eigentlich nur mit etwas prägnanteren Slow-Jam-Beats versehen, Nicolay denkt sich ‚Funk In The Hole’ als kompakten Jazz Funk Boogie der noch ein paar zackige Disco-Strings und Keyboard-Schwurbel à la Manzel in petto hat und Jeremy Newall zum Abschluss noch mal Boogie, in seiner Authentizität glatt als huldigender Re-Edit durchgehend. Das alles ist überwiegend so penibel am Erwartungshorizont austariert, dass man sich fragt ob ein bisschen Main Floor oder Dekonstruktionen wirklich zuviel Salz in der Suppe gewesen wären.
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