The La Mona collective from Paris do incredible things, pairing wonderful music and nights with dance classes and real community work. Go check them out whereever you can.
There were several reasons for the popularity of minimal techno and
house in the late 90s and early 00s. For one, a lot of electronic
club music of the preceding years was quite boisterous. Its
ingredients and purpose was often not exactly subtle, satisfying
clubbers and listeners that emerged from the acid house and rave days
with direct signals and relentless dancefloor dynamics. And as soon
as a sound becomes too dominant in the club scene, there is a
reaction, and alternatives develop, and as it happened with the
minimal approach they might even take over what was happening before
and become dominant as well. And a freshly initiated influx of
dancers and listeners had also come with different musical
requirements. While the big room and big festival acts like Prodigy
and the Chemical Brothers converted a rock clientele to the dance
floor, a lot of people who earlier preferred less heavier independent
rock music fell in love with the early Detroit minimal techno
prototypes by Robert Hood , Jeff Mills, Richie Hawtin and Daniel
Bell, and its more dubbed out counterparts around the Berlin
conglomerate of Basic Channel and its affiliated labels, or Wolfgang
Voigt with his Profan and Studio 1 imprints in Cologne, or Force Inc.
and later Perlon in Frankfurt or Säkhö in Finland, or Peter Ford‘s
Ifach and Trelik labels. Furthermore the club scene itself went
through changes. Budget airlines stormed the market and made
travelling to parties affordable, new open air venues and festivals
entered the circuit but they had to make concessions to surrounding
areas and embraced a sound that was efficient without significantly
loud and low end sound systems. Also drugs like ketamine or GHB
became popular and their users liked a sound that was more reduced,
hypnotic and subtle. And soon enough minimal techno crossed over to
house as well, and was out to conquer.
Right
in the centre of these developments was the Frankfurt imprint
Playhouse founded by Ata and Heiko M/S/O, which began as the housier
end of parent label Ongaku Musik, along with its fellow sub label
Klang Elektronik. It put artists like Ricardo Villalobos on the map,
as well as Isolée or Roman Flügel with his Roman IV or Soylent
Green aliases, and they reinterpreted house music with a lot of
attention to details, abstraction, reduction and repetition. Peter
Kremaier aka Losoul was arguably the most defining artist in the
label‘s early stages, and his productions had a signature sound
that is still unique. He probably was inspired by the layering
experiments of DJ Pierre‘s wild pitch sound or the immersive deep
house of Ron Trent and Chez Damier, but his own tracks soon took off
into their own creative zone. Beginning with 1996‘s „Open Door“
the following 12“ releases „Mandu“, „Don Disco De Super
Bleep“, and „Synchro“ were masterclasses in dancefloor
mesmerism. Over beats more pumping than those of his label peers,
subliminal percussion and chopped chords, he worked with
deconstructed disco and funk loops and occasional vocal samples that
were so perfectly captivating that he could ride them over extended
tracks that gradually introduced element after element with logical
patience, resulting in trips you felt should never stop. But by the
end of the 90s the structure of his tracks became less strict, and he
also explored different sounds on dark, bass heavy tracks like
„Ex.or.zis.mus“ or „Brother In Love“, to fine effect. It
seemed what was still needed was an album to round up this artistic
phase of his, before he would potentially venture into something new,
or different.
When
said album „Belong“ was then released in 2000, it came as
surprise to many of his followers. The opener „Taste Not Waste“
is deceiving, as it is a brooding punchy excursion that would not
have been out of place on the preceding 12“s, but already the
following track „Late Play“ is a weird off-centre sounding sketch
in comparison, hinting at the fact that the artist would not give
away the chance to represent more of his repertoire than his
trademark club stylings. „Resisting Curare“ takes up on the
quirkiness, albeit speedier, while „Overland“ is an eccentric and
playful take on the ever reliable Billie Jean groove, coming across
like a cross between the original groove and „Kaw-Liga“ by The
Residents, with extra weirdness. Then things take another unexpected
turn with „Sunbeams And The Rain“, which in my humble opinion is
one of the most astonishingly beautiful and sublime tracks ever to
merge deep house and techno. Only slightly erratic, this majectic
masterpiece is followed by the chunky slow groover „Position“,
which dubs down the proceedings before the sparsely tripping yet
funky „Depth Control“, another demonstration how much you can
achieve with just a few thought-out, gripping elements. Next is „You
Can Do“, which contains the sunniest loop Kremeier produced up to
that point, a spiralling, almost balearic melody which does not let
go for most of the track, thus resulting in another track you can
completely lose yourself in, although it achieves that typically
intense Losoul sensation with an untypical joyful mood. The last
track „Trust“ is a warped and chopped hip hop version of Bill
Withers‘ „Use Me“ that would grace any tape of later L.A.
beatmakers, and it makes you wonder what whole other sounds the
artist might have left in the vaults.
Although
Losoul has continued to drop releases of consistent quality, I think
„Belong“ marks the end of a certain era, in which he acted as a
true solitaire, even among likeminded and similarly talented cohorts.
To me it seems that only shortly after the imaginative ideas of the
minimal techno and house of those years time soon were often forsaken
for a sound that was already looming, more eager to please, and less
interesting to listen and dance to, however exceptions might prove
the rule. But it is undeniable that here lies the foundation for
many backlashes and resurgences to come.
As it was a continuation in the timeline of club music it is quite natural that via sampling the early years of house were already littered with references to what happened before: disco. Pioneering Chicago house records used vocal snippets of the classic repertoire of disco and replayed its basslines and arrangements. Just take Isaac Hayes’ „I Can’t Turn Around“ for example, which was not only used in Farley Jackmaster Funk’s „Love Can’t Turn Around“, but also numerous other house tracks at that time. And acapellas from the back catalogue of classic disco labels like Salsoul, Prelude or West End never stopped being used for giving a track that extra imperative on the floor. But as well as disco always remained an integral of house music’s matrix, particularly lesser productions means led to different approaches of utilizing it. From the mid 80s on, nearly no house producer could afford to set up an orchestra in a studio, also many were not trained to write and arrange music as many protagonists of the classic disco era were. Still, the desire to reference or recreate the disco legacy with a house groove was always there until today, and the ways with which disco and house connected were manfifold and innovative. We take a look at some prime examples.
Mitch Winthrop – Everybody’s Going Disco Crazy (Everybody’s Much Crazy Records, 1991)
I first heard this record at Hamburg’s Front club, where it was a total anthem. At the time most people were actually not disco crazy anymore, but this was a perfect reminder to never forget where it was all coming from.
Reese Project – Direct Me (Joey Negro Disco Blend Mix) (Network, 1991)
Dave Lee aka Joey Negro was one of the first house producers that were not content with only sampling disco elements, but who aimed for a production that came as close as possible to disco’s original production and arrangement values. His remix for Kevin Saunderson’s garage house project went all the way. Joey Negro had the knowledge and had paid close attention, and obviously his directive was to achieve anthemic euphoria, and as all was done with loving detail, straight to the syndrum pew pew pews, he proved himself to be a trustworthy ambassador of the disco heritage, and remained ever since.
Nature Boy – Tobago (Black Label, 1992)
Milo from Bristol’s legendary Wild Bunch soundsystem deconstructing disco source material down to dark and gritty netherworld. None of the glitz of the sample references survived the process, and the music seemed to rather kick you out into the back alley through the back door than sway you in through the velvet rope on the other side of the building. I found „Ruff Disco Volume One“ in a bargain bin in the early 90s and I think it still sounds totally visionary and unique.
Romanthony – In The Mix (Azuli Records, 1994)
A tribute to Tony Humphries and the whole New Jersey legacy by Romanthony, one of house music’s greatest producers ever. If there ever was a more convincing argument to never deny your roots and keep them alive in what you are doing, I would like to hear it.
Jump Cutz – House Luck (Luxury Service Records, 1995)
One of many highlights from the Jump Cutz series, produced by Rob Mello and Zaki Dee. This really shows that often a good disco house track is no rocket science. Deconstruct source material into several parts. Reconstruct said parts as you please. Watch them go.
The Morning Kids – Free Lovin’ (Housedream) (Balihu Records, 1996)
As a true disco lover and dancer, Daniel Wang knew that it is the early morning hours when the magic of a good night out really unfolds. A rather simplistic meditation based on just a few samples compared to his later vintage syntheziser led output, but it still works a treat if the DJ decides it is finally the right time to switch gear. When it was released, the balearic revival was just a few sunrises away.
Los Jugaderos – What You Doing To This Girl? (Jus’ Trax, 1996)
A rework of Dazzle’s „You Dazzle Me“ which is indeed dazzling. The well-proven disco evangelists Ashely Beedle and Phil Asher concentrate on building up the tension mesmerizingly and release the strings at exactly the right moment. A masterclass in structure.
Turntable Brothers – Get Ready (Music Plant, 1996)
There once was a seminal live recording archived on deephousepage.com that captured Ron Hardy whipping his floor into a frenzy with an extended reel-to-reel edit of Patti Labelle’s „Get Ready“. This Chicago label already carrries the legacy of two legendary windy city clubs in its name: the Muzic Box and the Warehouse (later Power Plant). So it should come as no suprise that most records on Music Plant are a straight homage, albeit with banging beats and the freewheelin’ demanour with the use of samples so typical for Chicago. „Get Ready“ skips the traditional verse part of the original and heads straight to the climactic chorus, then rides it far into ecstacy.
Although it closed in 2010, Bar25 still holds a very special place in Berlin clubbing history. Established in 2004, it introduced a hedonistic playground atmosphere to a scene that often preferred to appear sombre and serious. There are countless tales about what wild abandon happened between the wooden fence shielding the club from everyday life and its naturally occuring other boundary, the Spree river, where from the opposite bank or passing boats you could watch a very escapist crowd roam the vast area on marathon weekends. Its soundtrack of minimal and quirky tech house grooves that still work even when held back by a limiter is as synonymous with the Berlin party experience as are the improvised wooden interiors, psychedelic decor and joyful ideas that spawned a legion of other clubs to follow suit since its closure. Now rejuvenated as part of the Holzmarkt project in the same space, we’re taking a look back at the sounds that represented the club. To do this we enlisted someone very close to the project, who could also share some of his favorite memories from the club: Jake The Rapper, a former Bar25 resident DJ.
“This is an excellent example of original minimal, and minimal was my gateway into the whole techno scene and later Bar25. I feel like there were a lot of parallel scenes happening in the Bar at the same time, so I can’t really say this was the blueprint for the Bar25 sound, but it’s definitely the one I went deep into. When other DJs and their fans would take over right after something I was into, I’d be like, “What is this? This is totally different. I don’t get it”—which is just fine, as the place fed on variety and experimentation. There was also a whole other floor called The Circus that was dedicated exclusively to weirdness and avant-garde music. It was a very open time for music and a very open place. It certainly expanded my tastes and skills and every other part of my mind. But this track, although it came out three years before Bar25 opened, definitely laid the groundwork for the kind of vibe that was really appreciated. This was deep and trippy and softly took me to a place I really wanted to go after having been dancing, partying and socializing—sometimes for days on end.”
“This has some elements of electroclash that were really big at the time. This was the same time when Peaches, Mocky, Gonzales, Puppetmastaz and so on were some the biggest Berlin acts. It definitely influenced pop music and of course in the Bar as well, although it generally went with a more minimal sound than this. This was a big banger in comparison to what usually came before and after it. Is it a bit cheesy? Yes it is. But it’s so smooth that it inevitably got everyone deep up in there and fully involved. Plus I had a few numbers that use this same half-tone progression, and I chose this one for being the most representative of that time and also one that is still playable today.”
“I know this doesn’t even seem like a dance track at all—very mellow. But if I played this during the day between minimal tracks, people really loved it. it’s instantly recognizable without being too poppy or kitschy; it’s deep without being too melancholic—it’s really quite a piece of work. The lyrics are just single nouns in a row—“a life, a room, a house, a street.” It seems to comprise cut-up parts of a poem, and yet it expresses a mood and a scenario that’s somehow Lynchian. And then there are these minor guitar chords that go easy on ya. There’s no kick drum—or any drums per se—and yet it totally grooves and got people dancing, at least in the Ranchette at the Bar25. That may be why the place was unique, you could really DJ tracks to celebrate their spirit without having to kowtow to dance floor dynamics. There was already such a suspense and energy there, even when it was half full a little would go a long way.”
“I feel like this track, despite the fact that it became a tech house club hit nationally and internationally, nonetheless captured the sound of the Bar25. Remember that a lot of the time it was daytime, so something with a deep, warm sound made a lot more sense in bright sunlight than in a dark club. A lot of these kind of songs I think gained popularity through the surge in open-airs and daytime clubs like Bar25. This might have put everybody to sleep in the average German dance club in 2005. But when it’s around midday and you’re sitting, looking out at the Spree while a light breeze makes the straw in your gin and tonic move around so you hear the ice in your glass tinkle…you see yourself reflected in your friend’s sunglasses and you look like you’re really enjoying yourself, and then this big soothing, massaging synth surface lifts you up and you have to just stand up and go YEAHHH! …yeah, that’s a Bar25 moment for me.”Read the rest of this entry »
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