The original idea was to record mixes for my wife to listen to in the car on her way to work. She loves anything UK and bass & breakbeats related, but I have not made a mix for her before with the styles contained here. It was meant to be one longer mix at first, but then I found too many tracks in the shelves I just had to include. It was the same with a 90s Deep House retrospective I did for Modyfier early last year. I’m afraid I cannot portion myself anymore. And I hope it does not become a habit, it really messed up my weekly schedule.
Can you tell us something about the concept behind every mix?
The concept is really simple. Mix 1 starts with 80 BPM, Mix 3 ends with 150 BPM, halftime though. The pace gradually increases in between, and the mixes are more sequenced then mixed. Predominantly for listening purposes, but feel free to move if you want to move. The music is a diverse mix of Grime, Hip Hop, R&B, Dubstep and affiliated sounds. As mentioned, the reason I chose these sounds were mainly motivated by my wife’s preferences, but recently I was also getting really fed up with the current high level of pretentiousness in club music. Every day I hear House and Techno music and I see designs and read track titles or concepts that are desperately pretending something but there is actually not much going on beneath the surface. There is some longing for intellectual weight and diffuse deeper meanings, but there is a considerable discrepancy between creative intention and creative result, and a disappointing display of conservative ideas in the process. I think a lot of the music you can hear in these mixes is not afraid to use commercial elements and turn them into something that is innovative and more forward-looking than other club music styles that want to be advanced, but in fact just vary traditional formulas. You may argue that lot of the tracks I have chosen sound similar to each other as well, but I would like to think of the listening experience as a whole, and that for me presents a much appreciated alternative. I do not think it is better than other music I am more associated with as a DJ, but for me it helps to look elsewhere as soon as routine creeps in. I usually regain patience with the sounds I am normally occupied with if I do so. But apart from a regular change of perspective, I also cannot listen to 4/4 club music more than I do for all my work commitments. That is more than enough. I like to reserve my little leisure time for music I do not know as well.
You’ve been heavily influenced by Hamburg‘s legendary club Front. Do you think that a club nowadays can have such massive impact on local and even nationwide music scenes like back in the days when dance music was born?
I don’t think so. At least not until you can present a sound that is new. In that aspect Front is a good example. It existed from 1983 to 1997. Just think of all the new club music styles that occurred in that period of time, and then compare that to the last few years. Apart from Grime and Dubstep most new music played in clubs now is a variation of the music that came into being in said period. I am very grateful that I belong to the generation that could witness that directly on the floor. Pioneering days are always easier. Of course the combination of extraordinary DJs, a dedicated crowd and a unique location and interior will always work, but I think that in recent years a lot of clubs did not become widely known for paving the way for crucial musical developments. They became widely known for good bookings that make a difference and for being an outstanding attraction as a club itself. Clubs and DJs can still inspire new ideas and even change lives, but I doubt this now happens on more than an individual scale. I welcome the next lasting musical revolution in club culture though, it is overdue.
Macro has always been a very versatile sounding label covering new and almost forgotten releases. Who does what at Macro?
Stefan Goldmann concentrates on the manufacturing, mastering and administrative side of the label, I concentrate on how we communicate what we do to the outside world and the digital and virtual part of our catalogue. But we both decide what we want to release and with what artwork. And we are in constant touch with each other about every aspect running a label requires. There is no other way, at least not for us.
What are the future plans for the label?
We are constantly looking for new talents that we feel can add something other to the canon. Thus we signed the band KUF, whose first single is out while you are reading this. They are also working on their debut album, due later this year. And then we always appreciate new material by artists we already worked with. Elektro Guzzi for example are also working on a new album, others to be confirmed will follow suit. There will be new material from Stefan as well, which will probably draw from recent commissioned works. And there will be another album with compositions by Stefan’s father, the late Friedrich Goldmann. For the rest of the future, we just try to keep going as long as we enjoy to keep going.
You’ve written for the highly acclaimed but now gone German print magazine De:Bug. Do you miss it? What do you think of today’s dance music journalism?
I actually do miss it, yes. De:Bug offered content that other German music magazines do not offer, or do not want to offer. Every defunct print magazine takes away something that is not necessarily replaced. Not by other magazines, and also not by web media. And there are not enough websites in Germany that reach a wider readership. I can remember a lot of people sneering at the demise of De:Bug, they felt a print magazine was outdated anyway. But every media outlet passing away also diminishes the reach you can have with what you do. And in times when it is quite a struggle to make a living from whatever profession within the music industry, this is a problem. Unfortunately this struggle also changed today’s music journalism. For the worse, in my opinion. There is more clickbait controversy than well researched discourse. Occasional thinkpieces are presented as something exceptional, when they should be the norm. I notice a worrying increase in factual mistakes when I read print or web media these days. There probably is not enough budget for sufficient editing, but even if the small budget only allows freelancers and interns and only a few journalists on a monthly payroll, thorough supervision should be a must. Otherwise you can hardly justify that people should still buy a print magazine for example. And too much online music journalism is just a newsfeed. I get a lot of PR mails on a daily basis, and a lot of them I will find on websites only shortly later, too often without any own words added. Music journalism should offer individual perspectives and opinions, based on individual research. Else there is not enough to learn from it. I think it is a bit sad that a lot of interesting debates about music happen on social media, and they are not even sparked by interesting features in other media. A good music journalist should try to lead the way, and not vice versa. And in any case the traffic obligations should not lead the way either.
Back then journalists were always one step ahead and everyone relied on their reviews. Now you can stream everything via Soundcloud or preview via the shop websites. From your record shop buyer perspective: are record reviews still relevant for you?
Not really. I mostly order releases for Hard Wax weeks in advance before the according reviews are published. Web is usually quicker than print, but still most reviews are connected to actual release dates. The rest of the texts sent my way want to sell their product, they are not reviews per definition. But I always choose to remain as neutral as possible. I listen to the music first, and then I may read the accompanying text about it. In my experience as a buyer it is very advisable to follow your own instincts. I register the opinions of distributors, labels and early adopters, particularly if I think they are reliable. But they do not really influence my decisions what to buy, and in what quantity. That is a different reality.
Lowtec told us that they were calling Hard Wax from their telephone booth back in the 90s and that one of the sellers previewed them the tracks via phone. When and where did you started buying music and how did that change over the time?
I bought my first records in the mid 70s, when I was about six years old. And then I never stopped. You only learnt about new music from friends, record stores, magazines, books and radio. Sometimes it took me quite a while to figure out certain tracks I liked in clubs, sometimes I never succeeded. The internet of course changed all that dramatically. You can learn about anything in a short time, and then you can purchase it a few clicks further. I also called up Hard Wax to buy records in the early 90s, holding up the newsletter leaflet with highlighted picks. That always felt a bit awkward, compared to just browsing through the crates of a well selected record store. But however convenient it is nowadays to gather knowledge about music and then acquire it, it is not necessarily more exciting to do so. The process almost completely neglected the element of surprise and there is a linear way to what you want. Still, whenever I find a record in a store I was not aware of before, it feels much more satisfying than finding music online. Store finds beat web finds, and I like surprises. And I do not want anything to fall into my hands, I do not want to feel lazy. And I will probably never value an audio file in the same way I value a record. I think you lose the respect for the music you are listening to if you do. But all that is a generational thing, even if a lot of people way younger than me are getting into vinyl. It is the privilege and imperative of youth to question the habits of the previous generations. I certainly did the same. But now I gladly act my age.
We’re always wondering how do you manage the flood of new releases as Hard Wax buyer?
You have to organize yourself cleverly and you have to know what you can ignore and when. And you have to develop ways to keep being interested. If you lose your curiosity, you have a problem. Personally, the minority of records that I find interesting outweighs the majority of records I do not find interesting.
Will there ever be a book about those famous one-liners?
We are aware of the cult status our comments have, but for us they are more a means to an end than anything else. But if someone rises to occasion, I hope it is highly recommendable to the point of being killer, and not just writer tool literature.
Finally, what do your children think about what you do?
I have a wonderful five year old daughter, and she knows exactly what I do. She likes to listen to music, either on her little cassette or CD players, or when I play records to her. She thinks I have too many records, but she also likes them. Especially since she brought some of her Kindergarten friends to my room and none of them had ever seen a record, or a turntable, and jaws dropped. She copes with me being away on weekends or working at night by thinking I am at least a little bit famous, and that what I do makes some people happy. She might even be a bit proud of me when she hears or sees me play on the web, or when she sees photos of me somewhere, or flyers and posters, or articles I wrote. But it is not too important for her and she does not want to do my job later on either, because she likes to sleep at night, and have her weekends off. Her favourite tracks are “Die Roboter” and “I Like To Move It”.
These mixes are an admittedly self-indulgent excursion that is a very personal sentimental journey. Going back, way back, back into time etc. A time where I was over twenty years younger, the early 90’s. The music you are about to hear is what we listened to at friends’ places before hitting the club. Every weekend we were dead certain that tonight will be THE night, even better than THE night the weekend before. We were young, handsome, carefree and everything that mattered was imminent. We knew there were hours of dancing to the most wonderful music lying ahead, and we actually could not really wait. In those days the club night began timely, and it had an end. We did not even think of being fashionably late, because there could have been so much we could have missed out on. But still, there was some time left. So beers open, cigs lit, talks, laughter, scheduling phone calls, dressing up and of course, the music. The music had to be perfect. But the music also had to be different to what we would dance to later on. We are not talking about music that should not distract, quite the opposite. It should be involving, fuelling our anticipation, but not exhausting it. Of course sometimes were were out buying the latest records earlier on, and we were playing them to each other. But sooner or later the dominant sound of getting ready was mellow, slick, lush, warm, elegant, fluid, flowing, smooth, soothing, emotional, DEEP.
It was the sound pioneered by in Chicago by artists like Larry Heard and Marshall Jefferson and many others, then developed further in New York by artists like Wayne Gardiner, Bobby Konders, the Burrell Brothers and also many others. Do not mistake their music as being designed for home listening purposes. The DJs would use them, too. As a gentle introduction, or as a moment of regeneration during peak time, or as the best possible way to ease the crowd out again in the early morning, so that not a single glorious moment of what just happened was tainted by something less. A lot of these tracks had enough kicks to have you working at any time, but they also seemed to be created for special moments, closed eyes, embraces, disbelief evoked by sheer beauty.
The musical programming of that era was quite different to today. It was not steadily going up and up, it was going up and down. There were detours, breaks, constant pace shifts, even pauses. Surprises welcome. A single style was not mandatory. Changes were expected, and fulfilled, at best unexpectedly. There was a flow, but it was not built-in, it had to be achieved.
A lot of these tracks have tags like Ambient or Jazz in their titles and credits, but they did not really try to be either. The artists involved liked to display their musicianship, and their ability to establish a mood and an atmosphere. They knew how to write a melody, they knew how to arrange their layers and instruments, they were determined to sound as good as their means would allow.
One reason why I wanted to record these mixes is that I sometimes miss club music artists being musicians. And music oblivious to floor imperatives and mere functionalism. The other reason is that I was interested how these tracks would sound or even hold up if you did not just inject this feeling inbetween something else, but you pull it through, for HOURS. Would it be too much? You decide.
I’d like to dedicate this to the Front Kids, wherever you may roam. You rule.
Auch wenn das neue Jahr nun schon begonnen hat, vielleicht zunächst ein kurzer Blick zurück auf 2014. Würdest du sagen, es war ein gutes Jahr für elektronische Musik? Falls ja, wer war deiner Meinung nach u.a. mit dafür verantwortlich?
2014 war nicht besser oder schlechter als die Jahre zuvor. Es gab genug gute neue Releases, aber kaum neue Trends. Es kam mir so vor, als würden einige vorherige Entwicklungen langsam auslaufen. Lo-Fi House- und Techno etwa. Da hat die Ästhetik vielleicht etwas zu oft durchschnittliche Musik kaschiert. Es gab auch nicht mehr so viele Retro-80er-90er-House-Platten, was sicherlich auch damit zusammenhing, dass jede Menge alte Klassiker oder Raritäten nochmal veröffentlicht wurden. Manche Nachbauten schnitten da im Vergleich schlechter ab, oder man wollte wohl auch lieber Lücken in der Wantslist schließen, als sich mit neuer Musik zu beschäftigen, die wie alte klang. Ich falle aber nicht gerne in diesen früher war alles besser-Sermon. Ich habe in jungen Jahren auch viel alte Musik gehört, ich wollte auch schon immer wissen, wo was herkommt. Aber das wollte ich selber entdecken, und nicht von Älteren gepredigt bekommen, auch wenn man dann später feststellt, dass viele Einwände durchaus berechtigt sind. Was mir letztes Jahr gut gefallen hat, kann man ja bequem bei meinen Hot Wax-Radiosendungen überprüfen, oder meinen Charts. Sicherlich hat nicht jede Platte darin das Rad neu erfunden, aber es waren für mich genug neue Ideen drin, um es unterstützen zu wollen. Generell war es gefühlt eher ein Techno- als ein House-Jahr, aber für mich war es zuviel Techno, der sich nur auf eine jeweilige Atmosphäre konzentriert, und nicht auf Musikalität. Es gab zudem stilübergreifend irritierend viele Alben. Vielleicht war es ein Übergangsjahr, und 2015 passieren wirklich neue Dinge, oder es werden retrospektiv einfach andere alte Stile aufgearbeitet. Da lasse ich mich aber auch gerne überraschen. Ich wünsche mir aber nach wie vor, dass dieser durch künstliche Verknappung ausgelöste Beschaffungsstress für Käufer und Läden zur Ruhe kommt. Aber jetzt habe ich wirklich langsam das Gefühl, dass das ausgereizt ist und der Markt das von allein regelt. Nicht jede überteuerte Platte mit Poster wurde letztes Jahr zum Sammlerobjekt, und da ist noch viel Luft nach unten.
Gibt es einen Abend aus dem vergangenen Jahr, den du als DJ als besonders gelungen/spannend in Erinnerung hast? Wenn ja: Wo und wann war das und was hat den Auftritt ausgezeichnet?
Da gab es einige. Aber am denkwürdigsten war sicherlich der Auftritt von Dreesvn und mir beim New Forms Festival in Vancouver. Das war schon sehr dicht dran an der perfekten Nacht. Wir hatten uns schon die Tage zuvor sehr willkommen gefühlt, und viele interessante Leute kennengelernt, und dementsprechend haben wir uns dann auch bemüht, alles zurückzugeben was wir konnten. Der Live-Auftritt von Dreesen und Sven war einfach wundervoll und sehr beeindruckend, und ich konnte danach wirklich alles spielen was ich wollte, ohne dass es spürbare Einbrüche auf der Tanzfläche gab. Und bei dem Set hätte das schon durchaus passieren können. Es gab dann zum Abschluss des Festivals auch noch eine inoffizielle Party, bei der ich stundenlang im Wechsel mit DJ Sotofett und DJ Fett Burger aufgelegt habe, aber da ist die Aufnahme nichts geworden, was wirklich sehr schade ist. Ich erinnere mich aber auch sehr gerne an eine kleine Griechenland-Tour zurück, den tatsächlich beeindruckenden Sound von Plastic People, no sleep raver bei Washing Machine, feiern gegen alle Widrigkeiten in Ljubljana, Macro mit geballter Kraft im Stattbad, Arme in die Luft in der Panoramabar, und und und. Ach ja, und ich habe bei einer schönen Nacht in Nürnberg die krawallbereiten Besucher des Deutschpunk-Festivals im gleichen Gebäude für klassischen Garage House begeistern können. Ich hatte gar nichts anderes mitgenommen, und es blieb mir gar nichts anderes übrig, aber es ging nicht nur nicht ins Auge, es blieb kein Auge trocken.
Seit einigen Wochen kann man dich als DJ über die Agentur Option Music buchen. Wie kam es dazu, dass du nun bei einer Agentur bist, wo du das doch vorher jahrelang alles selbst geregelt hast?
Nun, ich bin vor vier Jahren Vater geworden, und gleichzeitig nahmen Anfragen für Gigs wie auch der Zeitaufwand meiner diversen anderen Verpflichtungen und Tätigkeiten stetig zu. Nach fast 30 Jahren war ich dann irgendwann so ausgelaugt von der ganzen Logistik, dass ich bereit war, alles in professionellere Hände zu geben. Bei Option Music mag ich sowohl die Art, wie das Booking gehandhabt wird, als auch die anderen Artists, und zwar allesamt. Ich musste die ganzen langjährigen Verbindungen nicht aufgeben, und es kommen neue hinzu. Ich habe mehr Zeit für die Familie, und die Agentur ist auch sehr familiär. Win-Win.
Seit einiger Zeit bist du Teil des Hard Wax-Teams und bist u.a. mit für den Einkauf und somit auch für die berühmten Hard-Wax-Einzeiler verantwortlich. Hast du schonmal das Prädikat “Killer” vergeben und wie leicht oder schwer fallen dir diese Kurzbeschreibungen?
Ja, das Prädikat habe ich schon öfter vergeben, aber eigentlich gehen wir damit bewusst sparsam um. Es wird in der Regel nur für Releases benutzt, die das Zeug dazu haben, irgendwann später vielleicht in der Kategorie Essentials zu landen. Musik, die aus dem Gesamtgeschehen heraussticht. Wir hatten die Webseite ja schon von den Tips bereinigt, nachdem das irgendwann in jeder zweiten Vertriebs- oder sonstigen Promoankündigung zu lesen war, und auch sonst stapeln wir lieber tief als hoch. Wir vertrauen da ganz auf das Urteilsvermögen unserer Kunden, und wollen es nicht beeinflussen. Unser Programm ist sorgfältig vorgefiltert, und somit ist es eigentlich nicht nötig mit Hype-Mechanismen abzulenken, die in so vielen Bereichen des Musikgeschehens sich nur noch gegenseitig entkräften. Als langjähriger Musikjournalist musste ich mich zuerst daran gewöhnen, Musik nicht wertend zu beschreiben, mit nicht mehr Worten als unbedingt notwendig, aber gleichzeitig habe ich den Stil der Beschreibungen wohl auch ein bisschen mitgeprägt. Aber bei Hard Wax steht die Musik im Vordergrund, kurzum.
Viele kennen dich auch als Journalist für Magazine wie De:Bug, Groove oder auch Resident Advisor. Durch deine Familie, den Job bei Hard Wax und das Auflegen bist du zeitlich wahrscheinlich sehr eingespannt – wie wählst du heute aus, über was du schreibst? Sind das nur noch Liebhaber-Themen für dich? Und merkst du eventuell ähnlich wie Gerd Janson, der seit einigen Monaten fast überhaupt nichts mehr schreibt oder Interviews führt. Ermüdungserscheinungen hinsichtlich des Schreibens über Musikthemen?
Ich gebe zu, dass mich mit der Zeit Rezensionen ermüdet haben. Ich denke bei Gerd war das vielleicht auch so. Man hat diesen Wust an Releases, und je länger man sich als Journalist damit befasst, desto schwieriger wird es, dafür frische Worte zu finden. Im Laufe der Zeit wiederholt sich einfach vieles bei der Musik, die man beschreiben soll, und als guter Journalist sollte man schon den Anspruch haben, in Texten Wiederholungen zu vermeiden. Wenn da zu sehr die Routine greift, lesen sich die Platten vielleicht routinierter als sie klingen. Gleichzeitig hat mich aber auch der Mangel an Diskurs frustriert, der heutzutage im Musikjournalismus vorherrscht. Alles ist zu sehr miteinander vernetzt und voneinander abhängig, und im Begriff Soziale Medien sind die Medien nicht ohne Grund enthalten. In allen Bereichen der Musikbranche ist man ob der fallenden Ertragsmöglichkeiten dünnhäutig geworden, gleichzeitig sind die Medien mehr als zuvor auf den Anzeigenmarkt angewiesen, um überhaupt überleben zu können. Und das ist keine gute Grundlage für eine Kritik, von der neue Impulse ausgehen können. Ich habe da auch einige heftige virtuelle Stürme hinter mir, für sorgfältig recherchierte, sachliche und objektive Artikel, die unter anderen Umständen vielleicht eine Debatte angestoßen hätten, von der alle was haben. Mit dieser Art mit Meinungen umzugehen hatte ich schon Probleme, als ich nur DJ, Journalist und Labelbetreiber war. Seitdem ich vor Jahren Teil von Hard Wax geworden bin, ist es noch wesentlich schwieriger geworden. Die Objektivität, die vorher von anderer Seite zuweilen in Frage gestellt wurde, ist jetzt nicht einmal mehr das Haupt-Kriterium. Ich sehe mich in der Funktion als Einkäufer zu einem hohen Maß an Neutralität verpflichtet, was diverse Themen für mich als Journalist von vornherein unmöglich macht. Nicht in erster Linie als Selbstschutz, sondern vor allem um den Laden zu schützen, und das, was ich dort tue. Es ist aber nicht so, dass ich nicht mehr schreiben kann was ich will, und dann lieber gar nichts mehr schreibe. Ich schreibe nur eher über Themen, mit geringerem Potential, negative Auswirkungen auf meine Tätigkeiten zu haben. Und das sind dann schon eher Liebhaber-Themen, Interviews mit Legenden, zeitspezifische bzw. historische Aspekte und schlichtweg Musik, über die ich von einer Fan-Perspektive aus schreiben kann. Es kommt aber auch noch erschwerend hinzu, dass beim gegenwärtigen Musikjournalismus Zeitaufwand und Honorarerträge nur noch in einer akzeptablen Relation stehen, wenn man wirklich viel schreibt. Und dafür fehlt mir einfach die Zeit. Demzufolge schreibe ich weniger, als ich eigentlich gerne würde. Aber es ist mir nach wie vor wichtig, und ich würde es nicht komplett aufgeben wollen.
Seit 2007 betreibst du gemeinsam mit Stefan Goldmann das Label Macro. Was wird uns da in diesem Jahr bzw. den kommenden Monaten erwarten?
Traditionell haben wir zum Ende des vorangegangen Jahres noch nicht allzu viele Pläne für das nächste Jahr. Bei Macro regiert der Freiraum, in jederlei Hinsicht. Stefan ist für einige Zeit mit sehr interessanten Projekten ausgelastet, hat aber auch neue Geräte ausfindig gemacht und mir gegenüber bereits angekündigt, sich dieses Jahr stilistisch umfassend häuten zu können. Und so wie ich ihn kenne, macht er das dann auch. Es wird wohl einen Soundclash unserer beiden Live-Institutionen KiNK und Elektro Guzzi geben, ich rechne in freudiger Erwartung mit neuem Material älter und neuerer Macro-Künstler, und wenn es zu uns passt, sind uns natürlich auch ganz neue Produzenten willkommen. Der Rest wird sich vermutlich wie gehabt aus spontanen Eingebungen ergeben, die wir dann gewohnt akribisch in die Tat umsetzen. Im Prinzip gehen wir auch schon seit 2007 davon aus, dass wir mal problemlos eine Auszeit nehmen könnten, aber irgendwie kam bis jetzt immer eine ganze Menge dazwischen.
Deine Hot Wax Shows auf BCR sind sowohl in ihrer Länge als auch stilistisch teils sehr unterschiedlich und spiegeln damit eben dich als vielseitigen Host und DJ wider. Welchen Themen und Genres willst du dich unbedingt noch in einer deiner Sendungen widmen, bist aber bisher noch nicht dazu gekommen?
Ich habe eine langjährig gewachsene, stilistisch sehr vielfältige Plattensammlung. Gerade wenn man eine regelmäßige Radiosendung macht, sollte man das auch nutzen. Die angesprochene Vielseitigkeit zeichnet mich wohl als DJ aus, aber ich will das auch nicht überstrapazieren. Der Großteil der Hot Wax-Sendungen besteht schon aus Platten, die ich aus dem Laden mitnehme. Ich lasse dann ein paar Wochen verstreichen und mache eine Art Kassensturz, und wähle dann die für mich interessantesten Releases aus, teils im Club erprobt, teils auch nur zuhause. Mir geht es bei den Sendungen oder auch anderen Podcasts nicht darum, meine Aktivitäten im Club zu simulieren, auch wenn ich Clubgigs gerne mal thematisch angehe. Wenn ich irgendwo auflege, fände ich es aber weder für mich noch für andere reizvoll, Sequenzen aus irgendwelchen meiner Sendungen zu wiederholen. Radio hat mich lange Jahre begleitet, und das Format bedeutet mir sehr viel. Was da aber musikalischen Spezial-Themen im Verlauf des Jahres geschehen wird, möchte ich noch nicht verraten, ich mag Überraschungen. Ende Januar wird es aber noch mal eine Sendung mit aktuelleren Platten geben, und dann möchte ich gerne mit einer irregulären Serie anfangen, die sich mit Edits befasst, die in den 80ern auf Remix Services erschienen sind, etwa Disconet, Hot Tracks, Razormaid und anderen obskuren Labels. Ich sammle solche Platten schon seit etlichen Jahren, und finde es sehr faszinierend, was damals mit Tape und Schere mit bekannten Clubhits angestellt wurde. Und es wird einen sehr persönlichen Podcast für Modyfier geben. Ansonsten habe ich eigentlich immer Ideen, wenn ich in den Regalen umhersuche. Und ich habe keinerlei Hemmungen, die dann auch in die Tat umzusetzen. Ich bin sehr dankbar, dass das so viele Leute hören wollen, und hoffe, dass das noch lange so bleibt.
Vielen Dank für deinen Mix! Per Facebook-PN hast du ihn ja schon als “Deutschland in deep, die klassische Variante” angekündigt und daraus wurden dann gleich über drei Stunden. Wie kamst du auf die Idee dazu, wie hast du deine Auswahl getroffen und wie und wo den Mix dann letztendlich aufgenommen?
Das sind meine persönlichen Favoriten zum Thema Deepness in Deutschland, vornehmlich House. Platten, die ich über Jahre regelmäßig gespielt habe, und auch auch immer noch spiele. Von einigen Produzenten hätte man natürlich auch mehrere Tracks nehmen können, aber es ging mir eher um einen breiten Überblick. Es hat eine Weile gedauert bis sich deutsche Produktionen von Ende der 80er an von den US-Vorbildern emanzipiert haben, aber dann ist wirklich viel Eigenständiges passiert, sei es in den Großstädten, oder in der Provinz. Dass es sich hierbei überhaupt um eine Auswahl nationaler Veröffentlichungen handelt, ist vollkommen unpatriotisch. Ich vergleiche einfach gern. Die Charakterisierung der einzelnen lokalen Szenen zu den Platten muss aber an anderer Stelle stattfinden, da gehören mehr interessante Zusammenhänge hinzu, als ich hier anreißen kann. Viele der vertretenen Künstler sind auch heute noch aktiv, aber dieser Mix soll beleuchten, wie das in früheren Jahren klang, und wie gut das gealtert ist, bis hin zu etwas aktuelleren Releases. Für mich sind das alles Klassiker, und wichtige Platten. Die Abfolge der Tracks hat sich beim nächtlichen Raussuchen ergeben, und dann ist der Mix in einem Rutsch am verregneten Tag darauf entstanden, mit zwei MKs und einem erstaunlich unverwüstlichen Ecler-SmacFirst-Mixer. Das Setup benutze ich seit 1995, für alles.
Wo kann man dich demnächst mal wieder auflegen hören?
Ich bin gerade aus dem wohlverdienten Urlaub zurück, und meine Bookerin auch. Wir müssen uns erstmal sortieren. Aber wir sind dran. Have headphones, will travel.
For the majority of releases in club music history, rhythm is a crucial ingredient. Two of the labels included in this mix even proudly carry it in their brand names – Strictly Rhythm & Rhythm Beat. But, in most of the said releases, rhythm is the backbone, the carrier for other sounds that establish the groove – basslines, keyboards, pads, vocals etc. Yet, the rhythm is prominently dictating the pace, taking turns and breaks, sometimes even shifting in tempo. Especially in the late 80’s to early 90’s, House and Techno often had music on a record’s tracklist that was originally destined only for skillful DJs – bonus beats, rhythm tracks, instrumental versions. Some only formed a reprise of the original material, taking up some of its key sounds for mixing double copies into little symphonies. Some were only the rhythmic skeleton of the original, displaying little more than beats, claps, percussion. Most of them were only a small portion of the original track in terms of length as well. Then there were original tracks that were just interested in being rhythm and not much else. Reducing a track to its very basics in the process, and neglecting the musical elements that, in most ears. make a track a TRACK. For some, that might be too little to attract attention, but for others, that might be all that matters. If well programmed and arranged, pure rhythm is just that: something pure. Something engaging, too. Something that can knock you out of your natural habits of listening. Something that urges you to move. Something where the rhythm is just a part of the whole picture.
While I went through my shelves recently to select records for a gig, I stumbled upon several records that had: a) basic rhythm tracks in a DJ tool sense b) tracks that were just made out of rhythmic elements or c) bonus beats and versions of regular dance tracks. Some of these tracks were just astounding, even if they did not much more than show what then young kids could jam together with their Rolands, or showing off that their tracks were still extraordinary with all the juicy bits and arrangements left out. It struck me that such tracks still exist, but way less than before. In some cases, producers may not want to spread out their ideas for tracks that only few people use or listen to, and DJs may not require it any longer anyway, because they can extract every element of a track with software and loop it into infinity if they want to, without even setting their drink aside. This mix, however, is not for showing how you make extended versions with bonus beats, or how you beef up a track with a different rhythm tool underneath. It is a tribute to the bonus beats and rhythm tracks on their own. That beatin’ rhythm Richard Temple once sang about in a revered Northern Soul song, albeit without hearing a drummer get wicked, but a drum machine.
There are enough great tracks around to record several sequels to this mix, and it is well worth digging for your own personal favourites. I might do a sequel with just the acapellas I found in the process. But that’s another story.
In early 2004, I was occupied with the confusing and chaotic last stages of leaving my cozy and beloved seaside hometown Kiel up north for the bright lights of Berlin. My girlfriend was already there for a while, and I was more than happy to live with her again, but at the same time I was very sad to leave my family and friends behind for what was very likely to be a move for many years and a future uncertain. One of those said friends was the one who operates under the Gram moniker, a likeminded soul with whom I shared a lot of cultural interests and lasting experiences, and with whom I wholeheartedly clashed heads over what we could not agree upon in many nights of smart conversations (and more often than not far less smart amounts of drinks and cigarettes).
As it became clear to the both of us that we would not see each other as much again for quite a while, we were toying with the idea of recording a mix together. Some kind of final joint venture for the time being, a testament to both our friendship and music we both loved. At that point we had a few discussions about digital mixing devices, Ableton and the likes were on the upswing, and he was dabbling in a few track productions on the computer and was more open to the idea than me, as I was pretty determined to not abandon my turntables for this kind of progress. But then I felt it would be a good opportunity to try something I had not tried before, particularly instead of criticizing a method I only knew in theory. So we soon agreed to embark on the endeavour of a digital mix that should at best use what seemed to be the ultimate advantage over a setup with two turntables, meaning the use of multiple tracks and the ability to insert more sounds than you could with two records playing at once (no, I’m no turntablist). The problem was that we had no Ableton or similarly advanced mixing software at hand. Among the programs Gram knew his way around was Cakewalk, which at the time was already vintage, to say the least. We soon realized that the only way for us to do it was to combine analogue hardware with it. The idea for the source material was quickly agreed upon. I had vivid memories of the Acid House glory days, and I was miffed about how revivalists were mostly only clinging to 303 sounds whenever the genre came back into the spotlight, whereas I always experienced Acid House as template for parties that incorporated diverse styles, and not only one. So basically we wanted to use landmark records of that era with a bit of stylistic leeway left and right and play them like we felt they should be played: energetic, raw, the archetypical aural rollercoaster ride. With this in mind I browsed my record collection for the basic tracklist and also for what should be the added value of the enterprise: a whole plethora of acapellas, samples, vocal snippets from records and movies, sound detours, intros and outros, all coming from different angles. We narrowed down the selection to how much we would need to match the typical CD length, and to how much elements we could inject into a track without drowning it, and then we chose a basic record and a basic tempo (Tyree’s “Acid Over”, which strangely then did not make it to the final tracklist later on) and I pre-mixed all in sync with it on two Technics MKs and we recorded each single track and snippet onto the computer afterwards. I don’t recall how many tracks of the program we could fill with all those recordings, but for me, who rarely used more than three channels on a mixer, it sure looked impressive. What also impressed me was the hours it already took to finish this first stage of the mix. And it was only preparation still.
When we then started to structure all the single components into a whole, it took way more time. For more than one month, we met several times a week and spent hours from early evening to early morning trying to work out the best sequence for our material that we felt we were capable of. I must add that I’m hardly a perfectionist and a studio boffin even less, but my collaborator was, and that fit like a glove with my enthusiasm for the idea and my many years of DJ experience. In fact, despite barely managing to complete more than one or two track sequences in several hours of work, it felt like we were already exploring the atoms of everything we used, and then splitting it into even smaller fractions, and it felt like a strange universe on its own. Frequently, we took a break, stepped back from the monitor and listened thoroughly to what we just did, and how it worked with what we did before, like a painter studied what ended up on the canvas (I’m not getting carried away). And it was like we’ve created a monster, too. Something that spiralled out of control. Something that seemed more out of reach in terms of finishing it with every little step we took. But then again, every small step, however long it took, seemed to lead to something we had not expected. New opportunities came to mind that led to the deletion of the ones not considered as good anymore. There were setbacks, detours, fresh and false starts, bad ideas. And there were leaps of faith, open sesames, sudden solutions, good ideas (I’m not getting carried away again). For the work on something as functional and purposeful as a recorded mix, it was pretty intense. When we finally stuck the outro to the last track, and gave the whole thing a final listening, we were surprised with how fresh and accomplished it sounded, and how little of all our efforts were apparent. We conceived artwork to complement the listening experience, and we were done with it. We were ultimately satisfied with the result. Of course anyone with enough skills could have come up with something equally or more engaging in realtime, thus sparing oneself the ridiculous amount of time we spent on it. But that was not the point. The point was to spend this ridiculous amount of time on it, together. Not caring if somebody would ever appreciate what and how we did it (and also secretly hoping somebody would). Not knowing if the dam we built would hold.
But it did. Time went by, and we are still very good friends, and still living in different cities. We never recorded something together again, but we sometimes speculate what it would have sounded like if we would have. I have never recorded a digital mix again, being too impatient and feeling too uncomfortable with anything else than two turntables. Gram, however, went on to record a few other fine mixes with the same dated setup. We both are still very proud of “Smileyville”. For us, it has stood the test of time, like the music it contains.
In discussion with Modyfier on “Twin Peaks” by Angelo Badalamenti (1990).
What was your first encounter with Angelo Badalamenti? Did you notice the music when “Twin Peaks” was originally aired?
It was when the first season debuted in the spring of 1990. I was eleven and used to watch the show regularly with my parents. It made quite an impression on me. It was around that time that I started to become aware of abstractions and my mind wandered into the incredible world of intangible things. The show was the perfect guide, pulling me further into this exploration. I’d like to say that I didn’t notice the music apart from the imagery (because together, I think they make up the show), but I can’t. The first season soundtrack (on cassette) was one of the earliest albums I ever bought. I loved the access the music provided. Listening to it, I’d immediately be transported to Twin Peaks.
Did you have the instant impression that your fascination with the soundtrack would outlast the TV experience as a singular work of art? Can it be held apart from the series?
“Twin Peaks” is best when experienced the way it was meant to be: as a moving picture with sound. While it is possible for each to exist without the other, they lack full form. For example, if you listen to the soundtrack on its own, it is constantly evoking imagery from the show. It reaches out for it, plucking it ripe from the memory branches of your mind. Badalamenti is successful in painting Lynch’s vision precisely with his composition.
As far as my ‘fascination’ with the soundtrack, I’d reiterate that I think it is best when listened to in the context of the show. For that reason, I don’t think it has outlasted the experience of the series. The characters and places have a dark beauty and frank oddity that are created as equally by Badalamenti’s music as they are by Lynch’s imagery and narration. For me, the soundtrack is so much more than merely associative. There is a symbiosis that makes me think cymatics are at play. When things are put into motion in “Twin Peaks” (when characters and places interact in different combinations) events begin to happen that are outside of the rational. A door is opened into an unexplainable dimension that is conveyed through the important combination of picture and sound.
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.
Recent Comments