„Liquid Air“ erschien 1992, also zwei Jahre vor Eröffnung des Ultraschalls. War der Track wichtig bei den vorhergehenden Underworld-Parties, und dann auch noch im Ultraschall?
Monika Kruse: Air Liquide waren sehr oft als Live Act im ersten Ultraschall gebucht, irgendwie gehörten sie fast mit zur Familie. Der Track „Air Liquide“ war jetzt sicherlich nicht im weitläufigen Sinne ein großer Hit, aber er spiegelte den Sound vom Ultraschall und Air Liquide sehr gut wider.
Robert Armani – Circus Bells (Hardfloor Remix) (Djax-Up-Beats, 1993)
Dieser Track ist eine kongeniale Verbindung von Techno aus Chicago und Deutschland. Spielten solche kulturellen Transfers eine Rolle in der Münchner Szene? Und wie wichtig waren 303-Sounds?
Acid spielte natürlich ein große Rolle, aber eine größere Rolle spielte immer noch der Sound von Chicago und Detroit. Der Hardfloor-Remix von „Circus Bells“ hat beide Richtungen perfekt repräsentiert.
Wiener Techno Artists brachten Platten auf Upstarts in München ansässigem Label Disko B heraus. Gab es da eine Achse zwischen den beiden Städten, inklusive wechselseitiger Beeinflussung und Zusammenarbeit?
Es fand ein großer Austausch zwischen den Wiener Künstlern der sogenannten Cheap-Posse und dem Label Disko B statt. Upstart, einer der Ultraschall-Besitzer, dem auch das Label Disko B gehört, buchte gerne die ganze Posse um Patrick Pulsinger herum, wir wiederum fuhren auch für Disko B-Nächte nach Österreich. Wenn die Österreicher bei uns spielten, war das Überraschungsmoment immer gegeben, entweder total morbide Tracks, dann wieder seriöser Techno, oder auch mal House. Diese Alles-ist-möglich-Haltung im Sound der Österreicher war dem Ultraschall-Spirit sehr nahe.
K. Hand – Global Warning (Warp, 1994)
Ein klassischer Techno-Banger aus Detroit. War das ein Track, der für dich spezifisch für das erste Ultraschall ist?
Definitiv war das der Sound der Zeit des ersten Ultraschalls. Viele Künstler aus Detroit wurden damals gebucht, beispielsweise spielte am Eröffnungsabend Jeff Mills. Aber auch DJs wie K. Hand, Underground Resistance, Robert Hood, Juan Atkins und andere waren regelmäßige Gäste.
DBX – Losing Control (Accelerate, 1994)
Daniel Bells „Losing Control“ war ja ein international übergreifender Club-Hit. Welche Rolle spielte der Track im Ultraschall?
Für mich steht der Track eher für das gesamte Feeling, das wir im Ultraschall hatten . „I am losing control“. Da spielten DJs in der Gästetoilette, Robert Görl ( DAF) machte einen zehnstündigen Liveact genau an der Eingangstür, Matthew Herbert sampelte Chipstüten für sein Live-Set und einmal stand auf dem Dancefloor am Ambient-Wochenende ein Riesenbett. Jedes Wochenende passierte irgendetwas in diesem Club, was dir als Gast und als DJ das Gefühl gab, komplett weg aus der Realität zu sein, und die Kontrolle des Alltags abzugeben. Dazu passte der Track natürlich extrem gut!
Im Sommer 1996 schloss das erste Ultraschall, und das zweite eröffnete wenige Monate später. Markiert dieser Detroit Electro-Klassiker diesen Übergang?
Das würde ich so nicht sagen. Der Grund, dass das erste Ultraschall geschlossen wurde, war ja weil der Vertrag auslief, soviel ich weiß. „Pornoactress“ war einfach ein toller Track , der von uns oft gespielt wurde, hat jetzt aber nicht irgendein Ende oder einen Neuanfang eingeleitet. Damals spielte man einfach viel mehr Electro, Electro Boogie und sogar auch mal Drum & Bass.
I-F – Space Invaders Are Smoking Grass (Viewlexx, 1997)
Nochmal Electro, diesmal aus Holland. In jenen Jahren formulierte sich diese Mischung aus Electro, New Wave, Disco und Techno, die Hell dann auf seinem Label International Deejay Gigolos bündelte. Wurden die Weichen dafür im Ultraschall gestellt?
Das Ultraschall war immer sehr offen für alle Arten von Stilen. Wir Resident DJs wie Cpt. Reality, Lester Jones, DJ Hell, DJ Barbara Preisinger und ich hatten alle unseren eigenen Stil. Dazu kam dann noch das Booking der Gast-Djs, die den Sound noch spezieller machten. Ich glaube das Ultraschall hat viele Weichen für Labels und spätere Clubs gestellt , aber auch die einzelnen DJs haben durch ihren Stil das Ultraschall geprägt.
Grungerman – Fackeln Im Sturm (Profan, 1997)
Spielte die Kölner Auslegung von Minimal Techno eine besondere Rolle im Club, oder bezieht sich die Wahl dieses Tracks eher auf das Wirken von Wolfgang Voigt in dieser Zeit? Und mochte man in München diesen Humor?
Oh ja , im Ultraschall liebte man den Kölner Humor und überhaupt generell die ganzen Kölner DJ- und Produzenten-Szene. Ich betone das Ultraschall, ich würde das nicht auf die gesamte Münchner Techno-Szene übertragen. Das erste Ultraschall war immer eine Insel. Zwar lag der Club bei München, am ehemaligen Flughafen Riem, aber die Lage war wie der Club selbst, nämlich abseits. Der Club und sein Sound, die Gäste waren irgendwie so unmünchnerisch. Eher links, alternativ, punkig, verrückt. Somit passte der Kölner Sound, der auch sehr eigen war, da wunderbar rein. Mike Ink, Michael Meyer, Burger, Reinhardt Voigt etc. waren gern gesehene Gäste, und ihre Tracks liefen oft im Ultraschall.
Richard Bartz – Ghettoblaster (Kurbel, 1997)
Richard Bartz war sicherlich ein integraler Bestandteil der Geschichte des Ultraschalls. Wurde seine Musik durch den Club geformt, oder war es auch umgekehrt?
Ich glaube, dass er sich damals mit 17 Jahren schon in den Club geschlichen hatte und definitiv von dem Sound, der Wildheit, und dem ganzen Spielraum inspiriert war. Dadurch dass er später auf Disko B selber veröffentlichte und auch Produzent von DJ Hell wurde, hat er sicherlich auch wiederum etwas zur Soundgestaltung des Clubs beigetragen.
Johannes Heil – Paranoid Dancer (DJ Hell Remix) (Kanzleramt, 2002)
Das Ultraschall schloss im Januar 2003. War dieser Track ein definitiver Hit, der für die Endphase des Club steht?
Ich habe den Track eher aus dem Aspekt gewählt, dass er genau dem früheren DJ Hell- und Johannes Heil-Sound entspricht, bzw. einfach das Techno-Feeling der letzten Ultraschall-Jahre gut wiedergibt. Etwas düster, und wir waren natürlich alle etwas paranoid in München, als das zweite Ultraschall dann plötzlich mitten in der Stadt aufgemacht hatte, und die Polizei uns Raver nicht mit Samthandschuhen angefasst hat.
In discussion with Dave Mothersole on “Techno! The New Dance Sound Of Detroit” (1988).
You wrote in a recent article about the roots of the music played in Goa that you came back to the UK from there and found acid house in full swing. Did that connect with what you heard in India, or was it something else entirely?
It was the very start of acid house. I got back from India in March 1988 – Shoom was still at the fitness centre in Southwark (although I never went) and a month or two later Spectrum opened at Heaven on Monday nights.
It was different from what I’d experienced in India. In some ways it was more tame as people had to go back to work or college or whatever after the weekend or on a Tuesday morning after Spectrum, where as in Goa partying was a full time occupation for most people and therefore more extreme. Goa was like Mad Max with palm trees and techno – almost totally lawless in those days, so nothing compares to it really. I’d been there the previous season (86 / 87) too and I’d come back with all these stories about freaks dancing all night to music that sounded like one long track – like all the best music you’d ever heard with all the crap parts taken out. How it didn’t stop all night and how everyone was freaking out to it on acid and on this new drug called ecstasy. I think my friends back home all thought I was mad, but when acid house came out they were like ‘ok, I get you now’. So I was pleased that they finally knew what I was on about. There were things I didn’t like though, like the MCs. Partying in Goa was like a mystical, very psychedelic experience. Almost a spiritual thing and it was all about getting inside the groove and letting the music take over, so to have some guy shouting ‘hands in the air’ every few minutes as everyone faced in the same direction was a bit distracting. So in that way it was different.
The music was totally different too. The influence of the soul scene (where most of the DJs came from) was very strong so there where a lot of song based tracks with very soulful vocals. The themes were different as well – the famous Martin Luther King speech over Mr Fingers; Ce Ce Rogers ‘Someday’; ‘Promised land’ – these were all Black American themes – songs about the struggle for liberation and freedom. They translated perfectly to multicultural, 80’s England though. Before acid house black and white kids didn’t mix so much on the dance floor, there were exceptions but on the whole the clubs were either separate or divided. Acid house changed all that overnight and these songs, with lyrics about reaching the promised land and living together as one family had a very powerful resonance with the audiences. I think it was a tremendous relief for my generation to finally come together in this way. And this applied not just to the divisions between black and white, but also to class divisions and those that separated the various different youth cults. It was an amazing time – an entire generation taking the same drug at the same time. Listening to the same music, feeling the same emotions. My friends all went from wearing designer clothes and hanging out at the pub to clubbing every weekend in dungarees, purple kickers and long sleeve tops and hoodies with peace signs, smileys and flowers and stuff on them. Some of them even quit their jobs and started throwing parties, selling drugs, DJing – anything they could do that would let them carry on partying. It was a huge change and it happened really fast. By the summer of 88 loads of people were into it and come the summer of 89 it was massive. Huge parties, every club in the country playing house music, office workers out on Friday shouting ‘mental’, mainstream compilation albums full of acid house hits and 10 year old kids dressed like ravers.
Was it like hearing the roots in Goa, and then back in the UK, acid house seemed to be the next step musically?
I wouldn’t say the next step from Goa, as the scene in Goa existed in it’s own little bubble. Culturally, I was very pleased that we were the first country to take the concept of dancing to electronic music on ecstasy, and push it straight into the mainstream. This wasn’t a new concept – people had been doing it throughout the 80’s in Chicago, New York, in Dallas (at the Stark Club), in Ibiza and of course in Goa – but we kind of democratised it. You didn’t have to be a freak in India, a New York club kid or a jet set Ibiza type anymore. You could be an ordinary kid, you know, from pretty much anywhere in the UK. That was really cool.
Musically, house had been popular in England since 85 / 86. ‘Jack Your Body’ was number one in the pop charts in 86 for example, and ‘Love Can’t Turn Around’ was top five in the same year. So I was already familiar with house music and indeed it’s roots as I’d been into the soul scene before and had grown up dancing to records like D-Train’s ‘You’re The One For Me’, ‘Beat The Street’ by Sharon Redd and Sinnamon’s ‘Thanks To You’. And then the whole electro thing hit big in England, so yeah, it was the next step musically for sure, but it was ecstasy that made it explode in the way it did. Much as I was familiar with it though, house music could still be shocking. I remember standing in the queue outside Spectrum for the first time and hearing this thunderous acid track booming out of the club and thinking ‘fuck me, this music is dark’.
On the whole though, the music in Goa was far more foreign to me. I lived in Italy as a boy and went on holiday there most summers right up until I went to India, so I was familiar with italo disco, but that was my only reference point. That an a few Front 242, Yello and Nitzer Ebb records my brother had. It might sound strange but until acid house broke, European club music was very rare at parties in England. After acid house that all changed, first with stuff like A Split Second and Code 61, then later with all the R&S and Music Man stuff and after that the Frankfurt stuff and whatever. Pre acid house though, only a few gay clubs played euro beat (as we called it) so hearing it in Goa – particularly in the psychedelic way they played it there – was a complete revelation to me. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Serge on “Ocean To Ocean” by Model 500 (1990).
I assume you were already familiar with Juan Atkins when the “Ocean To Ocean EP” was released in 1990. He was the first of the Detroit techno originators to release a record. Was he also the first of them you heard?
I am not sure… probably yes. But it could also have been the first Transmats of Derrick May. It was around ‘87 when I heard the first techno and this came out in 1990.
What makes this record so important for you? Are there special moments and memories attached to it?
It is just one of the best records Juan Atkins did, and one of the first records where techno became techno, where it became a form of art, and not just a tool to make people dance like disco, and like what house and techno was in that period, but an expression of feelings and emotions in an creative sophisticated and highly skilled way. You also hear this on other records from that 1989 and 1990 period, but somehow this one is one of my most favourite releases.
How would you describe the music on this record? Do you like it in its entirety, or do you prefer some tracks to others?
I love all tracks and it is difficult to describe. I can only do that properly in my native language I think. “Infoworld”, “Ocean To Ocean” and “Wanderer” are tracks that are unique. It’s electronic music but not as we knew it in that period, like we knew house music, or electro and new wave. All electronic dance music was driven by rhythm and drum machines. The drive and the energy on this release come mainly from the mindblowing basslines and melodies and strings. The percussion is not the most important part of the tracks, which is rare in dance music! For me this is techno in its most vibrant and creative form. Back then (89-90) this was music from another world. This was the future! No-one ever heard anything like this before.
I think “Ocean To Ocean” and “Infoworld” are very trademark Atkins sounding, they contain a lot of elements typical for him. The pensive vocals, the delicate electro leanings, the way he establishes a feeling with fragile melodies and moody strings. Would you say this record defines his sound even more than other of his releases?How would you place it in his career?
Actually I don’t think it is very trademark Juan Atkins. You think so? “What’s The Game” and “The Chase” are maybe closest to these tracks. But I think his previous tracks are more electro orientated. I think this was more sophisticated then anything he did before. Fragile and a more dreamy atmosphere, as if you were away from the world floating in space or something It doesn’t feel so grounded and dancefloor orientated.
Juan Atkins had a few guest spots on Derrick May’s Transmat label, but this is the first release under one of his best know aliases. Do you think May wanted to pay his dues with it?
I think it completely fits on what Transmat and Derrick May where doing in that period. Techno in a more creative and expressive way. I have no idea if there are any other reasons, beside the killer tracks themselves, to release this record.
I always found it peculiar that “The Wanderer” sounds very much like May, and that there never surfaced another version of this track. Is this more of a collaboration, and there might not even exist a version which is more Atkins?
I don’t think so. It might be a collaboration, or actually it says it is a collaboration, but they all shared gear and worked together on tracks. I think “Infoworld”, and “Ocean To Ocean” are very much Derrick May. The way it builds, and how the melodies and strings are done, the drum programming. But Derrick may doesn’t get credits on those tracks I believe, only Marty Bonds. Also they don’t sound completely like Derrick May. I actually never heard Derrick May do those melodies and sounds so loud in the mix with such a dominant arrangement. His tracks normally evolve and organically build up. Atkins used to do more of an arrangement, like electro producers. I actually never listened to the tracks like that. I always assumed that it were some kind of collaboration, like sharing studio, work on mixing together, playing a melody etc., and I just didn’t care what and how was written on the labels because that probably wasn’t correct anyway, haha.
1990 was a year in which Detroit techno seemed about to change. Derrick May fell silent, not releasing any original material under his own name since then, other producers of the first wave slowed down comparably, including Atkins, and new talent was about to enter the scene. Is this some kind of finale to the pioneering phase of the sound, or was it impossible to predict back then?
In a way you might be right. It was a small group of people up until then but I don’t think it was a finale for the pioneering phase. Those years, ‘88-’89-’90, all happened in a flash. Records from that period were not consumed as fast as people consume records nowadays, there was no internet, not 200 new records a week. So even after 6 to 12 months or even 2 years records sounded fresh. Actually I believe it was the start for the pioneering phase for many others. The period that new artists and new sorts of techno showed up was after this period. Until ‘90 it was a small group of people dominating techno music and they had their limits of what they could do on a technical and a creative level. So probably for them (Derrick May, Atkins, and Saunderson, plus a couple of others such as Marty Bonds) the pioneering phase was over. But I would say that wasn’t until ‘92 before all different styles appeared and the pioneering phase somehow ended for Detroit techno.
Was this phase of Detroit techno a sound you liked more than what followed, or was it just different?
I think all early periods of new music styles and artists are the most creative and interesting periods because of the lack of a scene and the absence of expectations. I was in the middle of that early techno period and the ending of the acid period when I discovered everything and bought most of those records right after they came out. So yes it was special because of the impact of the music and the nightlife, and also because it was in my teenage years.
There was a tradition of Dutch producers and DJs bonding and collaborating with ones from Detroit at that time. Where did that come from? Was it out of mutual respect, or a likemindedness rooted in cultural and musical parallels? How were you involved with it?
I think that was because in Holland there was a small group of record collectors, DJs and also producers who knew each other from record stores, parties etc. We had great import stores in a small country so you always ran into the same people at some point. Small fanzines where made and people could easily go to parties or stores in other cities or hook up with others collectors. Artists started to collaborate and shared info etc. Speedy J was the first European artist releasing on a Detroit label, Plus 8, and It’s Thinking aka Gerd and Dirk J Hanegraaf) were the second artist on a Detroit label, Malego Records, and they both lived in the same area south of Rotterdam. Then the connection from Eindhoven with Stefan Robbers and Planet E was made etc., and likeminded people started collaborating. There was a lively scene in Holland and club tours got organised for Detroit artists and artists got invited release records on each Dutch labels and to collaborate.
I was one of the collectors and DJs. I played in a local club on the west coast, and was visiting record stores in Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Antwerp on a regular base. In that period, the pre-internet era, there was a lively trading scene for gear and records. And that was how every one did meet. Record stores were a sort of meeting point for all the DJs.
How did this cultural exchange differ from the Detroit/Berlin axis?
I think the Berlin/Detroit connection is established with the Submerge and Jeff Mills period, the rawer techno after ‘91, while Holland and the UK had more a connection with Derrick May and Carl Craig and early Plus 8. But at the end it is about people and I’m sure that the UR thing was as big in Holland as it was in Berlin/Germany and vice versa with Transmat etc. The fall of the Berlin wall was more of an influence and think that after that people in Berlin and East Germany had better access to import records.
In more recent years, it seemed that especially Dutch labels released records that were decidedly reinterpreting the classic Detroit sound. Was this out of a fan perspective, or was the intention to keep a certain Detroit sound up to date, instead of other, maybe lesser loved sounds from there?
I think many of the Dutch techno freaks, and also UK heads, still had a weak spot for the early 90’s Detroit techno. It is probably an attraction and a passion for that sound which doesn’t fade out very quickly. Also it is a group of people making and buying records not because they are club DJs. I guess it is a form of nostalgia for a period when things where new and had a lot of impact.
There is a lot of outside criticism claiming that most Detroit artists do little more than maintaining the city’s legacy in the history of electronic music, whereas Detroit artists are notoriously sensitive about artists beyond their scene copying their sound. Are both right? Or wrong?
I think one must understand that most artists, so also Detroit artists, are limited in what they can produce, especially with technical limitations. So their most vibrant period is the beginning of their career when they were limited. Now after 20 years they can never produce music with the same creativity, naive energy and passion as back then in their teens. You can’t blame anyone for that, it is just how it is. Manny Detroit artists are now living on the reputation they gained years ago. Some of them still try to invent new things, still are trying to make music with passion and push boundaries, others just try to make a living and play what they think people want to hear. That’s just how things go. Exactly the same thing happens with many European artists. Of course many Europeans are influenced by what the early techno pioneers did, just like they were influenced by certain artists and records as well. Everyone has influences. Some use that only in the back of their mind, others try to copy that 1 on 1. And if they succeed in doing that, they risk being called copycats. Others don’t succeed and get praised by the unique productions they make, haha.
Was there a point in your activities where you thought it was crucial to leave this Detroit thing behind, because its quality potential seemed exploited? Was this one of the reasons why you reinvented Clone for example?
I can never leave this Detroit thing or this Chicago thing behind me. It is a essential part of my passion for music. As is disco and funk. I didn’t reinvent the label because I wanted to leave something behind. I did that because the circle was round. I finished my circle, my musical journey in electronic dance music. I was back where I started and I was there right at the start of techno and house and went through the natural developments. But I can’t do this same journey again without losing passion, so I had to change something or quit. I mean there is a new generation. I release music of young talented guys like Space Dimension Controller, Astroposer and Kyle Hall, who where not even born when this Model 500 record came out. They are at the start of their musical journey and I needed space and freedom to work with young cats like them without being blasé.
Do you think that music like “Ocean To Ocean” will always remain valid, as long as it just reaches this artistic level?
What do you mean with music like “Ocean To Ocean”? If someone copies it? If someone makes a record as good as this it will be valid of course, but it must have a unique character and artists fingerprint on it, combined with its unique moment in time to become such classic, so it can never be “Ocean To Ocean” or “The Wanderer”.
This is a one of the records that went forward and did something new. A new step, together with several other records in that period, that represents a new development in techno music. That’s a big part of the value of the record and also part of the impact it had on me back then! For someone who grew up with techno and who went to a rave with Carl Cox or Marusha or a night at Tresor as first techno party might have a different feeling by hearing this record for the first time then. It most likely will have less impact. The discussion how good it is, and if there hasn’t been records made that are better etc is to difficult, haha. The only thing one can do nowadays is making a record that reminds very much of this and brings more or less the same emotions. But there can only be one “Here Comes The Sun” of the Beatles, even though Oasis comes close with their songs. Their songs never can get the status of an original Beatles song.
Does it then matter how often it has been tried before by others to achieve this?
These things can not be organised. It is just a matter of being at the right place, doing the right thing, and only history can tell! You cannot try to write a classic record like this. That just happens. I mean with hard, passionate work and dedication one can achieve things. What you will achieve, or how good the record will be received one never knows until 15-20 years later. I am sure that right now, in the last months, a classic record has been released of which we don’t know yet that it is a classic record!
Will the originators from Detroit themselves be able to achieve something like this again?
Die Blow Monkeys waren sicherlich eine der eigenartigsten Bands, die im Windschatten des großen britischen Musiksommers 1982 zu Ehren kamen. Der Haupt-Blow Monkey Dr. Robert war ein archetypischer Popper, und nachdem er und seine Jungs erst nicht so recht vorankamen, stellte sich schnell heraus, dass er wie kaum ein anderer für die Pose des distanzierten Synthpop-Blue Eyed-Soulers geschaffen war. Er war nicht der erste Sänger dieser Zeit, der seine Liebe zum schwarzen Soul- und Discoerbe mit seinen stimmlich begrenzten Mitteln auslebte, aber er pflanzte sich einfach zwischen ABC und Style Council, passte sich deren Kleidungsstil an und auch deren Haltung, pflegte eine smarte Arroganz und wartete den Zeitpunkt ab, an dem er die Konkurrenz mit den eigenen Mitteln schlagen würde. Zur Hilfe kam ihm dabei ein guter Instinkt für Clubkultur. Schon bei „Digging Your Scene“ von 1986, einem der wohl wunderbarsten Midtempoklassiker der Ära, holte er die Latin Rascals an Bord, und als ABC ein Jahr später mit dem Album „Alphabet City“ und den dazugehörigen Singles noch zaghaft die ersten Vorboten der House-Bewegung umgarnten, ging er 1988 den entscheidenden Schritt weiter, und landete im Duett mit Kym Mazelle mit „Wait“ den ersten großen Welthit, der sich zwar song- und produktionstechnisch noch voll aus der Synthpop-Tradition speiste, aber im Groove trotzdem schon House war. Plötzlich war er nun die Speerspitze, und während Style Council mit ihren House-Experimenten schweren Schiffbruch erlitten, und die Pet Shop Boys mit ihren House-Verbeugungen einfach zu weit von der Clubrealität entfernt waren, ging er auf diesem noch weitgehend unerforschten Terrain den Schlaglöchern aus dem Weg, indem er einfach auf die richtigen Insider setzte. Bei seinem Soloausflug „Wait“ ließ er sich noch von Juan Atkins und Kevin Saunderson helfen, aber der wahre Meisterstreich folgte kurz darauf mit „This Is Your Life“. In der originalen Langversion, produziert Stephen Hague, einem wahren Säulenheiligen des Synthpops, ist der Song bereits ein großer Wurf. Eine brillante Mischung aus Hi-NRG-Sequencer-Disco-Restspuren, Camp-Saxofonen, melodramatischen Flächen, pompösen Pop-Pianos, die auf groovige House-Pianos treffen, und einem sich streng himmelwärts dehnenden Spannungsverlauf, der sich natürlich in einem erschütternden Popsong entlädt, dessen Hymnenhaftigkeit erst durch die lakonischen Vorhaltungen Dr. Roberts die wahre Durchschlagskraft erlangt. Denn Hymnen, die nur Hymnen sein wollen, sind nicht immer welche. Aber wenn man den Gesellschafts- und Sozialrealismus schnöseliger Inseldandys mit einer guten Melodie und einem hemmungslos opulenten Arrangement kreuzt, ist man schon gleich auf die Zielgerade eingebogen. Damit nicht genug, Dr. Robert ließ dieses Wunderwerk auch noch auf mehrere 12“s verteilt von Ten City remixen, und die Jungs um das lange Zeit einzig gültige Sylvester-Nachfolge-Falsett von Byron Stingily machen natürlich genau die schwarze Sonntagsmesse daraus, die ihm wohl bei der Idee vorgeschwebt sein mag, und die mit unmittelbarer Wucht den Geist nur so durch die Luft wirbelt, wie eben die besten Tracks Marshall Jeffersons zu dessen Glanzperiode. Ich bin mir sicher, Dr. Robert konnte noch Jahre später in seinem Songer-Songwriter-Balearen-Exil regelmäßig abrupt über diesen Kunstgriff in begeistertes Lachen verfallen, als nun auch ihn die Treffsicherheit jener Tage verlassen hatte, die noch jede vermessene Tat gerechtfertigt erscheinen lässt. Da muss man aber eben auch erstmal hinkommen.
Im Gespräch mit Johannes Ehmann über “Lupa” von Palais Schaumburg (1982).
Wie bist Du auf Palais Schaumburg gestoßen? Hast Du sie zu ihrer Blütezeit in den 80ern entdeckt?
Ja, ich war 16, wohnte in Hagen bei meinen Eltern und ein Schulfreund spielte mir “Wir bauen eine neue Stadt” vor, die dritte Single. Das war etwa 1982. Dieser Schulfreund hatte reiche Eltern mit einer Villa nur aus Glas und Beton, spielte halbprofessionell Golf, trug immer schicke Polohemden – und hatte eine großartige Plattensammlung. Ich weiß noch, dass wir an dem Nachmittag außerdem noch etwas von Chic und Afrika Bambaataa gehört haben.
“Lupa” ist ein Produkt der zweiten Phase der Band, als Holger Hiller ausgestiegen war. Warum hast Du Dir dieses Album ausgesucht, und nicht etwa “Das Single-Kabinett” oder die erste LP? Gefällt Dir diese Phase aus bestimmten Gründen besser?
Komischerweise, wenn ich jetzt so zurück schaue, hat es mich scheinbar schon immer elektrisiert, wenn sich neue Popmusik aus dem Ruhrgebiet, Düsseldorf oder Hamburg mit amerikanischen bzw. afroamerikanischen Traditionen gepaart hat. Und auf „Lupa“ hat man beide Einflüsse, die wunderbar zusammengehen. Das Deutsch-Hölzerne, Schräge, Dadaistische und den rhythmischen Flow der New Yorker Latindisco-Szene durch Produzent Coati Mundi. Das ist einmalig und hört sich heute noch so gut an wie 1982, oder besser.
Im Gespräch mit Stefan Goldmann über “Devotion” von John McLaughlin (1972).
Was ist Deine persönliche Verbindung zu John McLaughlin? Wie und wann bist Du auf ihn gestoßen?
Als ich 14-15 war und meine Ferien wie immer in Sofia verbrachte, war plötzlich Jazz das ganz große Thema bei meinen Freunden dort. Die anderen waren 2-4 Jahre älter als ich und ich ließ mich gerne beeinflussen. Als ich z. B. 9 war, kam ich so zu Iron Maiden, dann zu Led Zeppelin und Pink Floyd, und schließlich kam ich eines Sommers wieder und die waren alle ganz versessen auf das, was sie für Jazz hielten. Also Hauptsache virtuos – da wurde dann John Coltrane genau so gehört wie Al Di Meola oder die Chick Corea Elektric Band. Der Name McLaughlin fiel da auch schnell. Zurück in Berlin ging ich also zum Virgin Megastore und schaute mir die Kassetten an. Das war das Format, das mich interessierte, weil ich keinen eigenen Plattenspieler hatte, dafür aber einen Ghettoblaster und einen Walkman. Im Laden hatten sie die “Devotion” sowie die “Love Devotion Surrender” mit Carlos Santana. Sonst nichts. Als angehender Jazz-Snob hab ich natürlich die „Devotion“ mitgenommen und mich nicht mit irgendwelchen Rockern aufgehalten. Interessanterweise war dieses Tape die Lizenzausgabe von Celluloid, was später eines der wichtigsten Labels für mich werden sollte. Es hatte dieses super Coverdesign von Thi-Linh Le, der die ganzen legendären Celluloid-Cover in den 80ern gemacht hat. Ich kam hier also gleich mit zwei sehr wesentlichen Dingen in Berührung. Als ich damals auf einer Skifahrt in Tschechien war, konnte ich damit ganz gut die Mädchen beeindrucken, weil das selbst für die offenkundig so viel besser war als der Spaß-Punk, den die anderen Jungs dabei hatten.
McLaughlin war ja an sehr vielen bedeutenden Alben beteiligt. Warum hast Du Dir “Devotion” ausgesucht?
Gut, allein die ganzen Miles Davis Platten, auf denen er mitspielt sind eh der Wahnsinn. „Bitches Brew“ ist für mich sicherlich das bedeutendste Album überhaupt. Nur ist “Devotion” für mich einerseits der Einstieg gewesen, anderseits ist es in mehreren anderen Aspekten wirklich bemerkenswert: Es ist ein Album, das jemand in ein bestehendes Genre hineingesetzt hat – und dieses völlig übertroffen hat. Das ist ein wichtiger Beleg, das so etwas möglich ist. Es gibt immer diesen riesigen Vorteil, der Erste zu sein, der etwas Bestimmtes macht. Also ich denke da an Jeff Mills oder Plastikman, die einfach als erste wahrnehmbar ein kompositorisches Niveau erreicht haben in einer Musik, die vorher eher nur raue Energie war. Solche Leute haben auf Jahrzehnte einen Vorteil gegenüber jedem, der erst später dazukommt. Es ist ein zentrales künstlerisches Problem, wenn man innerhalb irgendeiner bestehenden Kunstform arbeiten will: was kann ich eigentlich noch beitragen? Die Möglichkeiten sind halt entweder den Rahmen zu dehnen oder es einfach deutlich besser zu machen als alle Anderen. Und Letzteres hat McLaughlin mit “Devotion” einfach gemacht. Da kommt einer aus England nach New York und nimmt den kompletten Laden auseinander. Die “Devotion” ist der klanggewordene feuchte Traum jedes Hendrix-Fans, nur das Hendrix das nie hingekriegt hat. Auch nicht mit “Band Of Gypsies”. Da kulminiert Etwas, was die ganze Zeit als Erwartung in der Luft lag, nur von Niemandem vorher eingelöst werden konnte. Dieses Energieniveau war einfach damals unbekannt. Und sehr viele spätere Sachen fußen darauf – sowie auf Lifetime, der Tony Williams Band mit McLaughlin und Larry Young.
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 »
Ich vermute eine erheblich komplizierte Rechtslage mit dem Potential für zerbrochene Freundschaften, denn diese ursprünglich 1990 auf Transmat erschienene Platte hat, von einer bockigen Zweitverwertung fünf Jahre später auf 430 West abgesehen, regulär nie wieder die Läden erreicht. Das ist in jeder Hinsicht verheerend, denn damals kündete dieses Wunderwerk in womöglich nie wieder erreichter Perfektion von der Möglichkeit, puristischen Detroit Techno als Thema über die männliche Nerd-Kultur hinaus zu tragen. Ich habe diesen Track immer als die Platte im Kopf, die damals magisch alle Mädchen auf die Tanzfläche zog, um zusammen mit den Jungs in diesem flüchtigen Glück zu versinken. Immer in der Gewissheit, dass ein Moment größerer Verbundenheit und Intimität in dieser Nacht nicht mehr passieren kann. Eine Platte, bei der man sich seiner geschlossenen Augen beim Tanzen nicht schämen muss. Diese verzappelten Beats, diese „Pacific“ nicht unähnlichen Flächen, unendlich potenziert von Lisa Newberrys ewig gültigem Glaubensbekenntnis: „I believe in all things that are pure. I believe that true love will endure. I believe love lasting in eternity. I believe in you and me.” Ich muss da immer noch mächtig schlucken. Die auf dieser Platte ebenfalls enthaltenen Versionen von Jay Denham und Juan Atkins sind mindestens genau so erschütternd wie das Original. Zahlt jeden Preis!
Was war der Ausgangspunkt für die Enstscheidung in der Detroiter Musikszene aktiv zu werden?
Der Entschluss DJ zu werden war von meinem grundsätzlichen Interesse an Musik bestimmt, in allen Facetten. Ich begann mich für elektronische Musik zu interessieren aufgrund stilistischer Merkmale und vor allem wegen der Art, wie diese Musik die Leute berührt hat. Wo sonst bekommt man schon eine solche Bandbreite an Genres, alle zusammengefasst in einem Groove mit derartig viel Schwung? Platten wie Mr. Vs ‘I Got Rhythm’ oder Mike 303s ‘St. Sylvestre’ bleiben wohl ein Leben lang in meiner Kiste.
Du hast diverse Radiosendungen gemacht, unter anderem das weithin bekannte Format Deep Space Radio. Was für Kontakte und Einflüsse kommen aus diesem Zeitraum?
Kevin Saunderson war ein maßgeblicher Einfluss. Er hat mich immer unterstützt, zuerst gefiel ihm meine Radio-Stimme, dann respektierte er auch meine ganzen sonstigen Aktivitäten. Wenn Leute aus anderen Ländern Detroit einen Besuch abstatteten, brachten Derrick May und Juan Atkins die Zeit auf, sie für ein Treffen mit mir ins Studio zu bringen. Read the rest of this entry »
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