Gunpowder Electric – Die Hausfrau, Das Kissen Und Sein Sohn Blumfeld – Tausend Tränen Tief (Loverboy Mix) DJ Matt – Augen Zu Soul Capsule – Overcome Ricardo Villalobos – 808 The Bassqueen (Queen Of Bass Mix) Don Disco – Square Rooms Freaks – 2 Please U (Surreal Visits Dub) LoSoul – Brother In Love Blaze – Lovelee Dae (Losoul Rest In Respect) DJ Linus – The Days End… Kron – Silikron (Jürgen Paape Mix) Reinhard Voigt – Be Free With Your Love 1 Justus Köhncke – I Keep A Close Watch
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.
The Slits – In The Beginning There Was Rhythm (1980)
At the age of 15, Neneh Cherry was introduced to seminal feminist Post Punk group The Slits by her stepfather Don Cherry, and joined them for a brief period, providing backing vocals on several tracks, including this one. The Slits were integral to the early days of UK’s Punk scene, but they quickly became musically adventurous beyond that and incredibly funky as well, further aided by producer Dennis Bovell’s dub expertise. Edginess was rarely as charming, but The Slits had loads of attitude to boot. One can assume that Neneh Cherry took her clues from the experience.
Rip, Rig & Panic – Those Eskimo Women Speak Frankly (1981)
The next band Cherry joined was a Bristol collective that included two members of the legendary Pop Group. Their music was a feverish mix of Punk Funk, avantgarde elements and Jazz. As with The Slits, Don Cherry was a collaborator, but his stepdaughter was more to the core, switching to lead vocals and displaying the mixture of charismatic Soul and Rap stylings that would make her famous later on. But before that, Neneh Cherry briefly retired to become a young mother, and the band fell apart. In 1983 the band reformed with Neneh Cherry under the name Float Up CP, and released one album, then fell apart again. But if you find a band in those years with a constant line-up, it might have been dull anyway. Rip Rig & Panic sure were not.
Raw Sex, Pure Energy – Give Sheep A Chance (1982)
After collaborating with On-U Sound’s mighty New Age Steppers, Cherry teamed up with its bass guitarist George Oban and the drummer of 70s Fusion Jazz band Karma, Joe Blocker. They covered Edwin Starr’s Motown standard „Stop The War Now“ in reaction to the Falklands War, and „Give Sheep A Chance“ is its wonderful icy computerized dub version on the flip, sheep noises included. In the years leading up to the next entry, Neneh Cherry also became a pirate radio DJ, danced in a Big Audio Dynamite video, and duetted marvellously on The The’s „Slow Train To Dawn“.
Neneh Cherry – Buffalo Stance (1988)
Neneh Cherry, the pop star. Seven months pregnant with her second child but rampant with energy, she performed this ever infectious song on Top Of The Pops and stormed the top ten. „Buffalo Stance“ was referencing Malcolm McLaren’s Gals, stylist Ray Petri’s fashionable collective, and was in fact a cover version of a Stock, Aitken & Waterman produced single by her future husband Cameron McVey from two years earlier, where she already rapped about „Looking Good Diving With The Wild Bunch“ on the B-side. And the famed Bristol sound system was indeed involved with the accompanying „Raw Like Sushi“ solo debut album, as were McVey and Tim Simenon of Bomb The Bass fame at the controls. In 1988 Hip Hop and House still looked at each other and the UK club scene was vibrant, as documented by magazines like I-D, The Face and Blitz. Neneh Cherry was styled by Judy Blame and photographed by Jena-Baptiste Mondino rather iconically, but underlying were lyrics that dissed gigolos and moneymen and celebrated female self-esteem. So don’t you get fresh with her!
Neneh Cherry – Manchild (1988)
Neneh Cherry telling the boys some more news (albeit with a bit more sympathy), in a fantastic downtempo song co-written by Cameron McVey and Robert Del Naja AKA 3D of The Wild Bunch, and soon-to-be Massive Attack (fellow member of both Mushroom provided a booming remix). In the rather weird video she proudly sports her now born second child Tyson and a further refined fly girl outfit with a pair of cycle shorts that were de rigeur in 1989. Ok, men mostly wore the matching cycle tops. The „cause I believe in miracles, words in heavy doses“ ending still rules supreme.
Neneh Cherry – I’ve Got You Under My Skin (1990)
This a contribution to „Red, Hot & Blue“, an AIDS charity compilation on which several artists covered Cole Porter songs. AIDS was still spreading fast, and given the topic the title is very well picked, with Neneh Cherry rapping an introduction that makes it very clear that it is not only love creeping through the body, but also very lethal disease. The heavy and brooding downbeat groove already foreshadows Massive Attack’s „Blue Lines“ album, to which she would also contribute. The video by Mondino is appropriately dark, without any misplaced pretensions. „Share the love, don’t share the needle“, it ends.
Neneh Cherry – Buddy X (1992)
Lifted from her second album „Homebrew“, Cherry again adresses men that like to play around, wrapping her criticism of male hypocrisy and infidelity with fetching Hip Hop pressure. The song still features prominently in club playlists due to its Class A Masters At Works remixes. At the height of their powers they apply their raw swing to a groove that most successfully merges Hip Hop and House sophistication, without ever distracting from the message. Deadly dubs, too.
Youssou N’Dour & Neneh Cherry – 7 Seconds (1994)
Neneh Cherry collaborates with the famous Senegalese singer for a moving celebration of humanity without prejudice. By then the combination of a downbeat and dramatic strings had almost become stereotypical, but the trilingual „7 Seconds“ still proves why it became so efficient in the first place. First, you need a good song. Second, you need good performers. Third, you will see that the tried and tested arrangement will even up the ante. The stylish monochromatic video was directed by Stéphane Sednaoui, and it works.
Neneh Cherry & The Thing – Dream Baby Dream (2012)
Neneh Cherry works with a Scandinavian Jazz trio that named itself after her stepfather. She was a longtime Scandinavian resident and Jazz has a healthy tradition there, it should not have come as a surprise. But after a long hiatus from recording music, it was. The resulting album consisted mainly of well chosen cover versions that seem to stand for Cherry’s whole life in music. They are interpreted quite freely, and Cherry still delivers. Take her version of Suicide‘s No Wave classic „Dream Baby Dream“ for example. In my ears it rather sounds like her very early days than former pop star croons the standards for Christmas.
Neneh Cherry – Everything (2014)
The overdue comeback as solo performer, with an album of material that mourns the death of her mother in 2009. Four Tet is at the helm, and his sparse production focusses on rhythmic textures and subtle electronic arrangements, performed by Rocketnumbernine. The album decidedly neglects pop obligations and Neneh Cherry is evidently very motivated, and even if her songs here are very personal, they sure are engaging as well. The remixers on duty for „Everything“, Ricardo Villalobos and Max Loderbauer, must have agreed, as they already let the song seep into their trademark Micro House jam setup after only two and a half minutes.
Pablo Gad – Hard Times Dub Achterbahn D’Amour – Königsstr. (SW. Remix) Willis Anne – Untitled Lena Willikens – Mari Ori Reckonwrong – Hansie C.C. Not – Untitled Lohhof – Midway Moodswings (Terekke Remix) X – Untitled The Maghreban – Green Apple Florian Kupfer – Discotags Kai Alcé – Rockin K-Tel Orson + Skratch – Untitled Leigh Dickson – Praise (Baby Ford Mix) Perbec – Chaser Translate – City Slicker Marquis Hawkes – The Way Isanlar – Kime Ne (Ricardo Villalobos Version 1) Hashman Deejay – Samba DJ Sprinkles & Mark Fell – Insights Ken Gill – Love Moon DJ Sotofett – Nimbus Mix Simone White – Flowers In May (Kassem Mosse Version) Stump Valley – Caruso Plaza – Night Lines (Moon B Extra Nocturnal Mix) Aphex Twin – diskhat1 Patrick Cowley & Jorge Socarras – She Had Her Nerve
In discussion with Oliver Ho on “Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1” (1993).
Were you already familiar with the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia, or was “Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1″ your first encounter with their music?
I was already familiar with their music, I think the first thing I had heard was the album, “Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves”. The thing on that album that really struck me was “Linkage”. The way they sampled Egyptian rhythms, and the fact that the track was purely made up of rhythms in a very stripped back way, that were also at a slow bpm. It had a purity and a different edge, very tribal, not techno or house in style at all.
Why did you choose this particular release out of their back catalogue? What made, or still makes, it so special for you? Is it a blueprint for aspects that interest you in electronic music?
The thing about this release that struck me at the time and what continues to be relevant to me is the is the purity of intention. It was an attitude towards music as ‘magick’ that was inspirational. The idea that a particular rhythm is like a spell, something that isn’t just about entertainment, but is operating on a more powerful level. There is a message on the record sleeve artwork that reads: “Warning! This object has nothing to do with art or artificial intelligence. This double package (12″ version) was designed for mixing, for breaks, for possession, for collectors.” This seemed to articulate that there were was something inside the music, that was waiting to released, some kind of energy, that had been placed there by the makers… Read the rest of this entry »
Rydims – Rydim#2 (Version) (Nu Groove) Mike Shannon Feat. Fadila – Under The Radar (Ricardo Villalobos Mix) (Cynosure) Soylent Green – Low Pt. 1 (Playhouse) The Prince Of Dance Music – E-3, E-6, Roll On (City Limits) Badawi – Dstry<All>Prfts (Shackleton Remix) (Cargo Records) Hertsi – Oodi Sähkölle (Sähkö) Da Sampla – The Rider (Moods & Grooves) Wax – 30003 B (Wax) DJ Duke – Escape From New York B2 (Power Music) Never On Sunday – Urban Rains (430 West) Laurent X – Drowning In A Sea Of House (House Nation) Keith Tucker – It’s A Mood (Seventh Sign) Dettmann – Vertigo (Vincent Kunth Remix) (Ostgut Ton) Nature Boy – The Major Enemy (Black Label) 4th Measure Men – The Need (Henry Street Dreams Mix) (Multiply) Foremost Poets – Reasons To Be Dismal? (Instrumental Version) (Not On Label) Buzzin Cuzzins Feat. Romanthony – Let Me Show You Love (Approach To Temple) (Azuli) Raudive – Sienna (Macro) Instra:mental – Let’s Talk (Naked Lunch)
FCL – Let’s Go Seven (We Play House) Ramadanman – Glut (Hemlock) Scuba – You Got Me (Hotflush) To Rococco Rot – Fridays (Shackleton’s West Green Rd Remix) (Domino) Monolake – Alaska (Substance Remix II) (Monolake / Imbalance Computer Music) Low Res – Amuck (Sublime) Oni Ayhun – OAR004A (Oni Ayhun) Julia Decay – Untoward (Scandinavia) Rhythim Is Rhythim – Kaos (Juice Bar Mix) (Transmat) DJ Bone – No Sleep (True To Da Roots) (Sect) Mr. G – Life (One Dark Late Saturday) (Moods & Grooves) The Oliverwho Factory – Rain 5th Wave (Madd Chaise Inc.) Moodymann – Analog:Live (KDJ) Grand High Priest – Mary Mary (We-Ze Records) Shake – Psychotic Tango (Frictional) Spencer Kincy – Don’t Stop (Cajual) The Closer – Strong Meets The Weak (KMS) Bim Marx – Stronger (Stilove4music)
In discussion with Philip Sherburne about “The Flat Earth” by Thomas Dolby (1984).
Why did you choose this album, and how did you come across Thomas Dolby in the first place?
Until I was 12 or 13, I got most of my pop music from Top 40 radio. There weren’t a lot of other options for kid living in suburban Portland, Oregon in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and I loved a lot of things that I’d probably cringe at now, simply because they were all that was available. This is not one of them, though. Thomas Dolby’s “The Flat Earth” has remained a personal favorite for a quarter century now, and within it I can find many of the seeds of my eventual love for electronic music. I don’t remember any first encounter with Thomas Dolby’s 1982 single “She Blinded Me With Science,” which was all over the radio that year. I’m sure it was the synths and samples that grabbed me. I had discovered synthesizers through the music shop where I bought piano sheet music – Bach, Czerny, Phil Collins – and was nuts about anything with synths in it (In 1983, I’d get one of my own, a Korg Poly-800). Curiously, I didn’t dig any further into Dolby’s music at the time, but then, the song was ubiquitous, and in retrospect, it was such an odd single it probably didn’t gesture towards a form bigger than itself, like an album. It was what it was, and that was plenty. In 1984 or 1985, I went through a brief period of checking out LPs from the Multnomah County Library. That’s where I came across „The Flat Earth“. It was the cover that got me. Around that time, I would latch onto anything that had the faintest hint of “new wave” to it, and the cover’s pseudoscientific markings and cryptic photo-montage seemed like the most modern thing I’d ever seen. In retrospect, the sleeve is hardly so dazzling — a slightly watered down version of Peter Saville. (In fact, it looks a little like a cross between the Durutti Column’s “Circuses & Bread” and Section 25’s “From the Hip”, but it lacks the elegance of either.) Still, it was good enough for a 14-year-old jonesing for the New. I remember sitting on the floor of my parents’ living room, hunched over the sleeve, trying to make sense of the whole package. Not to repeat myself, but “cryptic” is the only word that fits. Everything about the music seemed to hint at hidden meanings, from the sleeve to the lyrics: “Keith talked in alphanumerals,” after all. Who the hell was the guy panning for gold on the cover? Who were these mysterious Mulu, people of the rainforest? What was a drug cathedral, and why an octohedron? (I had so much to learn.) Etc., etc. I’ve long since stopped caring much about lyrics, much less concept albums, but I was young and impressionable then, and every flip of the record seemed to offer another clue as to some strange, grownup world I couldn’t begin to decipher. The same went for the music, of course. For starters, there was the stylistic range: “Dissidents” and “White City” were recognizable as pop music, after a fashion, but what was “Screen Kiss”? It presented a kind of liquidity I don’t remember having recognized in music before that – first in the fretless bass, the synthesizers and the stacked harmonies, and even the chord changes, but mainly it was the way it trailed off into the scratchy patter of L.A. traffic reports, multi-tracked and run through delay. I’d never heard the “real world” breaking into pop music before, and certainly not spun into such a purely “ambient” sound. “Mulu the Rain Forest” was another weird one – again, an approximation of ambient, long before I’d discover it. And “I Scare Myself” totally threw me for a loop. What was a Latin lounge jazz song doing here, especially sandwiched between the humid “Mulu” and the jagged, chromed funk of “Hyperactive”? There was no doubting the continuity of the album, but the pieces felt at odds, as fractured as the cut-up sleeve imagery; the sequencing seemed erratic and the two sides of the LP felt out of balance with each other, and yet you couldn’t have put it together any other way. Just like venturing to the edge of the (flat) earth, flipping the record had a weirdly vertiginous quality to it. (I was, you may note, an unusually impressionable adolescent, at least where music was concerned.)
At the time I got this it took some time to grow on me. Was it the same with you or was it love at first sight?
A little of both. There was definitely something off-putting about the record at first, but I devoured it anyway. I’d go so far as to say that the parts that alienated me were precisely what sent me back into it. I wanted to figure it out. All this might sound a little silly now. Today, I can recognize that a lot of it is pretty overblown, beginning with the lyrics: “My writing/ is an iron fist/ in a glove full of Vaseline”? That’s… pretty awful. (Also, it may go some way towards explaining the purplish quality of my own youthful stabs at poesy.) But for all its excesses, it kept drawing me in. I still listen to the fade out from “Dissidents” into “The Flat Earth” and feel a thrill all over again, all those gangly licks and hard-edged FM tones giving way to hushed percussion and a yielding soundfield… It’s funny, too, to listen today to the title track and even hear the tiniest hint of disco and proto-house in the rolling conga rhythms, things I had absolutely no idea about then. Whatever its failures, this was the album that, more than any other up until that time, convinced me that records offered more than just a hook and a chorus, that they deserved to be puzzled through, analyzed, unpacked. That they offered up their own little worlds, worlds I would aspire to inhabit. Read the rest of this entry »
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