Very Delicious with Demi Riquísimo

Semi Delicious and Lifetime on the Hips boss Demi Riquisímo talks about establishing his labels and more ahead of his visit for Bypåskefestivalen.

Demi Riquísimo and his label Semi Delicious thundered on to the scene back in 2019, and has since cultured a discernible sound that has garnered a lot of attention and praise in the club land. Its origins as an exclusive vehicle for Demi Riquísimo has blossomed into a cabal of familiar- and new artists perpetuating the sound of the label and has even spawned another label in the form of A Lifetime On The Hips. 

Built on the DIY ideologies of the roots of club music the sound of the label reflects that with dusty synthesisers and jittery drum machines touching on everything from acid to Techno and even early Trance prototypes. It’s a reflection perhaps of Demi Riquísimo’s own origin story as a Detroit born, London-raised record collector, but goes beyond that with a no-nonsense “if-it-ain’t-broke” attitude.

At its most functional the music is reserved for A Lifetime On The Hips with both labels adopting the vinyl format in their designs. While Semi Delicious is the flagship label, its sister is “all killer no filler” strictly focussed on the dance floor. It’s receiving the same kind of recognition as its parent label since its inception last year and with Demi Riquísimo at the helm perpetuating its ethos and sound, Semi Delicious, its sub-label and artists are gathering a lot of momentum. 

Demi Riquísimo (not his real name) is something of an enigma. We know there was some kind of DJ and production career before the moniker, but it’s clouded in the past and the way in which he’s established the new alias and labels, suggests an experienced history in this field. We are lucky that he’s obliged to answer a few questions for us ahead of his visit this week to Jaeger, so we could unearth a little more of the man behind the label and the ideologies. 

I understand from other interviews that DJing came first for you. What was it about the craft that drew you to it?

Yes DJing definitely came first for me. I was very intrigued by vinyl and a friend had some belt driven decks that I enjoyed having a go in my teens. When I moved to Bristol for university I soon got glandular fever which meant I wasn’t going out but I managed to save some money to buy some decks and a batch of wax. I practised non-stop. About 6 months later I did my first club gig. 

What kind of inspiration and/or instruction did you get from what was happening around you in Bristol?

When I was there it was very bass heavy and I was very much into jungle and drum n bass. This translated into my DJing and record shopping. I also started running nights with this sound pallet but as the years went on I started to incorporate other sounds and genres into the events and later on in my production. 

Your label Semi Delicious started concurrently as a vehicle for your own releases. How did it (and does it) relate to what you are doing as a DJ; do you see the label and your music as an extension of your sound in the booth?

I feel running the label is all about control about what you want to release and when you want to release it. I like to release music in the moment that I’ve personally finished recently or signed recently from other artists. I think this way I’m able to translate playing current releases in my sets. So many cases with other labels I would get music signed that came out 2 years later and by the time it got released I’d never play it at all. 

I know you studied production, but what was your relationship to making music before your studies?

Most of my friends I lived with in Bristol were quite big gamers which never really appealed to me. I lost my creative output after leaving school as I used to do a lot of art work to pay my time. So I downloaded a demo version of Reason 4 music production and really enjoyed it so I bought a copy and just got really stuck in. I think at this point my shift from DJing to producing became apparent in my spare time. 

I’ve read you started Semi Delicious out of a necessity since nobody in your extended music circle wanted to put your tracks out. What was it in those first original releases that made you want to put these out into the world?

I just really believed in the music I was producing. A few artists said it wasn’t for them when sent to them in the demo format. But the same DJs were giving the tracks five star reviews and requesting the vinyl when it was delivered to them in promo form. It’s funny how we judge our feedback on the way music is sent to us. 

What do you usually aim to achieve with your music before you set out on a track and where do you draw influences from outside of music? 

I normally start with some kind of sample idea and build around that. Or I turn on all the gear and have a jam. Sometimes going in with an idea is helpful but for me not all the time. Just triggering some weird sounds is enough for me sometimes. 

As Semi Delicious expanded to include more of your music and other artists, what were you trying to establish with the label in terms of a sound or a collective ideology?

For me the label is just about releasing good dance music and records that will still sound good in ten years. That goes for my music and others. The second ethos is creating a community of artists and friends where we can all grow up and rise together.

How would you describe that sound today and has it evolved since the initial releases?

I believe the sound is alway evolving and it would be too hard to describe the sound. If  you listen to the releases over the years and from the different artists so much of the music is very different and has its own identity. So yes for sure the sound has evolved since the initial release and will continue too.  

Last year you set up A lifetime on the Hips as a sub-label which in your words is “strictly all killer, no filler.” Why wouldn’t these tracks fit the Semi Delicious profile?

They would fit for Semi Delicious. The difference between the two labels is semi delicious is more eclectic so some of these big killer tracks would be accompanied by other types of music. 

What’s it like operating, not just one, but two vinyl labels today; What are some of the challenges you face and why this continued commitment to the vinyl format?

It is tricky and the costs always go up not down. But I feel as long as the demand is still there and the music is still strong and getting good feedback I’ll always be passionate to release on the format that is so close to my heart and reminds me of first becoming a dj. 

Do you think there will ever be a time when the format will not be sustainable anymore?

I thought yes to this 10 years ago but now it’s more popular than then. I feel this is due to everything becoming too accessible in the way we consume music in the last 10 years. I think people like to put the value back into the music they’re investing into. 

Besides your own label, what are some of your more recent acquisitions that are currently your go-to weapons for the dance floor?

I’ve always been a big fan of the label Tessellate and The Trip and their music. Love on The Rocks is a label I’ll always love and play music from as well. 

And lastly can you play us out with a song in anticipation of your visit to Jaeger?

‘Square One’ by Kosh is a track I’ve been playing in every set of late

Bypåskefestivalen 2024

The lineup for our annual Bypåskefestivalen is now confirmed with some familiar faces and new concepts joining the city blowout.

We leave the white powder to the mountain and take up residence in the beating heart of the city. It’s Easter and while the rest of the city hits the mountains and slopes we’re making our stand in our urban enclave of bass. The annual Bypåskefestivalen returns with our usual coterie of residents and guests taking over the long weekend at Jaeger. Double Trouble, Schmooze and Brus, Helt Texas, Flux, Frædag, LYD, Footfood and Moving Heads take residents over the course of the week with guest appearances by Skatebård, Demi Riquísimo and much more joining our residents across the two booths.

Our latest Sunday concept Moving Heads and the guys behind Schmooze & Brus and Flux mark new additions to the Bypåske concepts with each bringing their own unique take on the clubbing landscape to our two floors, from the airy heights of uplifting House music to the determined underground and platonic shifting rumble of Techno. Familiar guests like Prins Thomas, Skatebård and Footfood stay the course in 2024 with international visitors Shonky, Demi Riquísimo and Den Anden Side breaking up the local roll-call.

See the entire lineup here and find more information about the festival here and the individual events here.

27.03 – Prins Thomas + Isoebel + Skatebård 
                BCR: Anders Hajem + Henrik Villard + Perkules

28.03 – Helt Texas: Shonky + Normann + Ole HK
                 Schmooze & Brus: DJ Stuk & Salamanca + Max Lok

29.03 – Frædag: g-HA & Olanskii + Demi Riquísimo 
                 Flux Collective x Den Anden Side: Bjerregaard + Matriark + Johannes Astrup  

30.03 – Nightflight x Lyd: Nora Pagu + Olle Abstract + MC Kaman & Kash

31.03 – Footfood: g-HA & Olanskii + diskJokke + Vinny Villbass
                Moving Heads: Casablanca 303 + Tonchius & friends + Hetty & J André





Love what you do with COEO

We fired off some questions to Munich/Berlin-based duo COEO as they head to Jaeger for Schmooze and Brus this Friday and talked about origins, Munich and their keenness for Djing.

Florian Vietz and Andreas Höpfl are COEO and they have been making music together since their teens in Munich. They started making an impression in the age of the music blog, and their tracks like “Get Down” hit an immediate nerve with their deep, luxurious sound capturing a zeitgeist that dominated the dance floors at that time. 

As the time went on their music matured, but never losing touch with that youthful charm that they’ve cultivated early on, as they folded elements of Disco and Jazz into later productions. Their long standing relationship with Munich-based record label Toy Tronics, have provided a consistent platform for releases from the duo with labels like Razor and Tape and Shall not Fade also flocking to their music to break off a piece of COEO for themselves.

Their latest record “Rush Hour” finds the duo in an energetic furore, charting a course for bigger rooms. An uplifting melody bounces between tireless beats as strings smooth out the arrangement. The duo’s history with 90’s Hip Hop and a legacy of Georgio Moroder and Donna Summer in Munich have coalesced around a distinctive sound for the pair, built on the foundation of those earliest releases.

Their work in the studio has built bridges to the world‘s most sought after DJ booths and as DJs COEO are equally adept, garnering a reputation today as one of the most enigmatic DJ duos out there. They’ll arrive at Schmooze and Brus this week and we took the opportunity to find out more about their early days, their relationship with Toy Tonics and the future of COEO.

Hey guys and thank you for taking the time to talk to us. I’ve read some interviews and I know you were friends long before COEO. What was the catalyst for you to start working on music together?

Florian: When you are young you are full of energy. We wanted to be creative and start our own project. Everything you see on TV or hear on the radio is so far away, but when you start listening to underground hip hop or electronic music you realise that this is music by young people and for young people and you can be part of that scene. We wanted to be like our role models and I think this was the catalyst of starting to make music.

Andreas: And also our acquaintance with a crew called Scrape Tactitions, who were very successful in the turntable championships- the ITFs, International Turntablist Federation- played a big role for us, because it also got us very involved with DJing and the possibilities that turntables offer.

Were you working on music individually before then, and how did you find yourselves adapting to each other in the studio/creative endeavour?

Florian: No, we haven’t had any solo projects before and couldn’t even play any instruments when we started our duo. We were 15 when we bought our first turntables and DAWs for sampling music. In the beginning it was a slow autodidactically process and more like a learning by doing thing. But we were growing with our own tasks. By the time Andy was studying audio engineering and Florian learned to play piano. In the studio it never looked like Instagram producer videos where people are jamming together. Working in the studio together can be really annoying if the second person sits next to you and has to listen to 150 kick drums you can choose from. We prefer to work on ideas on our own and then finish tracks together. It can be really helpful to hear someone else’s opinion. :-)

As I understand it you are based in Munich for the most part. Munich has this incredible House music legacy. Tell us a bit about the scene there and how it shaped the start of your career.

Andreas: Of course, Munich was a great influence. When we went out at night, we were always soaking up the music and the atmosphere at the clubs. For its size Munich always had a more than adequate range of clubs that played house music. In the past we had magic nights in clubs like Die Registratur, Erste Liga, Awi and Kong, nowadays we love to go to Charlie, Goldener Reiter and Blitz- just to name a few. But at the moment we have to attend our own shows so we don’t show up there that often anymore. Moreover I moved to Berlin.

Florian: But also Munich based labels such as Toy Tonics and Public Possession give a lot back to the scene. They give artists a platform to create art, they throw parties in museums or off locations, sell fashion in their stores and thus gather a lot of young talented people around them. Many house Djs like Max NRG Supply and Rhode & Brown have radio shows on Radio 80K which is Munich’s most important community radio. We also love Benjamin Fröhlich’s Permanent Vacation label which has an incredible output of tasteful contemporary house music.

I feel that the city has always been this dark horse on the scene, bringing more provocative artists like DJ Hell and Skee Mask to the fore, as opposed to Berlin for example. What are your experiences with the scene there compared to the rest of Europe and what makes it so unique in your opinion?

Andreas: Good question, maybe because of its Giorgio Moroder/Donna Summer/Musicland Studios history Munich has always had a great sense of self confidence and has not looked to the left or right. This could be the reason why it has developed and preserved its own style until today. In general it makes no sense to compare cities like Munich & Berlin, or Paris & London, as each city has shaped its own culture, and that’s a good thing as it ensures a high level of diversity.

What was it about House music that particularly appealed to you, and is it something that has always been there for you both as a group and as individuals?

Florian: I remember getting tired of Lil-Jon-esque Hip Hop in the 2000s. I loved midschool 90s Hip Hop, but the presence of mainstream hip hop made me search for something more different and more real. Being a kid in the late 90s I only knew house music as pop projects in the charts. As I grew older I discovered house music again from a totally different perspective. In the beginning there is the Charts-Dr-Alban-house music, but finally you understand and share the values of this whole movement. We quickly fell in love with 4-to-the-floor music.

With the Techno scene being the prevalent thing people associated Germany with, what does it take for a House act like yourself to make an impression and have you witnessed a change in attitudes since coming to the fore?

Andreas: Of course, techno always had a big presence in Germany, and of course it still does today. That was probably one of the reasons why we were first successful abroad and only later managed to gain a foothold in Germany.

When it came time to make your own music and leading up to your first single “Get Down” what was it solidified for you in terms of the sound of COEO?

Florian: Before that time we were experimenting a lot with music like Ramadanman and have never been fully satisfied with the result. With releasing Get Down on Globelle we thought this is the sound we want to make for the rest of our lives. From today’s perspective we think that it was not our best production. Especially technically we would make a lot of things different today, haha. 

I remember that track hitting a nerve with the blog community at a time when blogs had such a strong influence. What are your memories of that time in terms of how that track was received and what did mean for you going forward with the project?

Florian: It was a special time when the possibilities of the internet were explored and some nerds put their knowledge about music on the net. I remember that we listened to or read some blogs like “beatelectric” several times from the first to the last post. Every now and then I catch myself going to old blogs we loved and hoping that they will be continued, but unfortunately many of them are no longer existing. 10 years ago these sites were a big part of the scene and super important to get attention as a small artist. And of course we were proud of being featured on these pages and getting a lot of positive feedback.

Those early tracks are luxurious adventures into the deeper realms of House music, and it came at a time when Deep House was really the sound du jour. Was there anything in the air for you at that time which moulded the sound of those first releases, and what is your relationship with those early records today?

Andreas: Indeed, we were strongly influenced by and loved Deep House music at that time. We still like our early records, but I think we have been listening to our own releases too many times, haha. After playing it a thousand times you are no longer feeling it the same way. And that’s why we are always a bit critical about our music. But this is okay. ;-)

It was not long after that, that you released your first track via Toy Tonics, in a relationship that lasts to this day. I’ve heard the story of how you met some of the people in a club in Munich, but what made you want to release music with them?

Andreas: We have been fan of Mathias Modica’s (Kapote) music long before he founded Toy Tonics. We loved his output as Munk and saw him play a few times in Munich. Gomma was his label before he was running Toy Tonics. After we found out that Mathias started something new we paid a lot of attention to the new label and quickly realised that our music is similar to the music Toy Tonics is releasing.

They already had some success with a couple of Hard Ton releases at that point. Was there anything in their sound that you felt coincided with what you were doing and did you feel you had to adapt to the label at all?

Florian: My impression is that both the label and we have been in some sort of a discovery mode at that time. We didn’t think we had to adapt to the label that much. We were just hoping that they liked the music we produce.

Listening to a record like Feel Me (2014) and then Music for Friends (2021) the fundamental elements are still there, but there are elements of Jazz and Disco that have taken more of a foothold in these later records. Is that something that has matured in your own music, and is it something that matured alongside the influence of Toy Tonics?

Florian: Jazz and Disco have always been essential for us. We grew up with 90’s hip hop and house music that sampled a lot from the disco era. This is also how we got in touch with music from the 70s and 80s and we still love it. But I guess our sound always corresponded with the Zeitgeist at that time and the years before covid have seen a huge Disco revival on dancefloors in Europe. We loved it and that’s why our productions were a little bit more organic than in the beginning. Toy Tonics was going through a similar development and of course also had a big influence on us.

There’s more of this Disco / High Energy sound in your latest release, Planet Earth. Tell us a bit about this release and what were the sonic goals you were trying to achieve with this one.

Andreas: With this EP we set ourselves the goal of making a dancefloor record that covers different aspects of a club night. Fast or slow peak time tracks, but also tracks to start an evening with or to play at a later hour. We wanted to show a facet of ourselves that you don’t necessarily get from us when you go on spotify and listen to our top plays, which give the impression that we still specialize in disco edits, haha. Here the focus is on showing a little bit of the range of what music we like and play in our sets.

Besides these new elements, what do you feel has been the greatest evolution in your music in your opinion between something like Feel Me and Rush Hour?

Florian: Feel Me was heavily influenced by Leon Vynehall’s remix of Kevin Griffiths’ Acid Splash. In the early days you try to produce and sound like your role models. Sometimes it works and you get a result you are happy with that sounds like the original. Sometimes you end up somewhere else. This can also be fine but also means that you can’t exactly realize what you plan or imagine. I think this is the biggest difference to nowadays. We know exactly what kind of music we like, what kind of music works on the dancefloor and what synths or drums we have to use to make a track sound like this or that. This is the evolution. With the experience we have nowadays we can realize our ideas easier.

Your staying power has been impressive, especially at a time when social media and the internet creates such a volatile atmosphere for music’s relevance. What do you put down to that consistency?

Andreas: One thing for sure is passion- we honestly love what we do. Another thing is that we simply love every kind of music and we don’t limit ourselves to a certain genre. If you get bored of the same sounds I think it feels natural to try something else and move on.

As an artist it is good if your music continues to develop. When we were kids we didn’t understand why A Tribe Called Quest’s The Love Movement was produced by Jay Dee in the beginning. It was no longer sounding like the sample Hip Hop of Low End Theory or Midnight Marauders. But after a while we realized that this was the sound of that time and they were taking the next step. 

Nowadays we love the album and understand why an artist sometimes changes its sound. Maybe you don’t follow a “How to build your own franchise”-guideline when your sound doesn’t sound the same over the years, but for us it was never primarily about the money. We want to produce what we feel and what feels right for us. In the beginning it was deep house, then we were producing a lot of disco edits and disco influenced house music. Now our sound is becoming a little bit more ravier again and we welcome Italo and Prog House elements in our productions.

Your touring schedule as DJs has kept you pretty busy these days and I suppose like all other artists at the moment, the releases are just a way to get you into DJ booths. Do you guys feel that is the case and has DJing taken a centre stage for you in recent times?

Florian: Yes, indeed, Djing has taken a centre stage for us. We have even found little time to work on new output in recent years, but this is not necessarily a problem for us. We really like what we do. And we are very grateful for what we call our jobs.

What is it about DJing that scratches that creative itch for you?

Andreas: If you are on the hunt for a special records for ages, you finally hold it in your hands, play it and the people on the dancefloor go crazy, it is one of the best moments you can Imagine. 

Is it something that you assume is an extension of your work in the studio or do you feel it’s something completely different and does that ever feed back into your work in the studio?

Florian: Of course, it always affects our productions as well. We want to make music that (also) works on the dancefloor and makes people feel good and ecstatic.

How do you feel you compliment each other musically in the DJ booth and is it the same in the studio?

Andreas: Over the years we have become a very well-rehearsed team, maybe because we talk a lot about music we discover. 

Your sound as artists and DJs is something I believe resonates with what we do here at Jaeger. For the uninitiated, what can they expect when you visit?

Florian: People can expect a high energy journey that ranges from classic house to progressive house with some percussive breaks and excursions to disco.

And lastly, can you play us out with a song?

Andreas: Nanda Rossi- Mil Coracoes (Max Hammur Edit)

 

In a creative moment with Dandy Jack

Dandy Jack speaks ahead of his visit this Saturday for Det Gode Selskab‘s monthly club night at Jaeger. We talk early days the future and his next record on Det Gode Selskab’s upcoming VA.

Martin Schopf has been at the confluence of electronic music for as long as Techno has been around. From the obscure experimentalist to rhythmical wizard, he has garnered success at various points of his career in many different guises going by his alias Dany Jack or the many variations of that moniker since the early nineties.

At the height of his popularity he and compatriot and friend Ricardo Villalobos ushered in a new and wholly unique era for Techno as the minimal tag appeared on the scene. Releasing records alongside Ricardo as Ric Y Martin or as a solo artist, Dandy Jack became a household name in record bags and DJ booths.

He’s released classic records in today’s terms on the likes of Perlon and has worked with everybody from Atom ™ to Matthew  over the course of his career.

Best known for his adept hand as a producer it was a world away, and again not really, from the DIY beginnings of the industrial electronic movement he first encountered in Berlin back in the eighties; where he as a young Chilean seeking refuge from a dictatorship started developing his artistic voice.

Today, he calls Geneva home. It’s a “very calm city” compared to Berlin, he says over a telephone call, “but good for making music.“ He is still very active on the music front, and his next release is on its way. The track, called Divine in Chile, comes courtesy of Det Gode Selskab’s next compilation Jack’s Favourites #3.

It’s an explorative Techno creation that goes as deep as the mariana trench, while a female vocal entices with its siren-like charm. Dandy Jack is in full effect here channelling those always-present latin-infused influences through his enigmatic grooves. There’s always a hint of experimentalism that follows his music, but it’s curtailed from spiralling out of control by the magnetism of the dance floor.

It’s this release we’ll be celebrating this upcoming Saturday for the next instalment of Det Gode Selskab at Jaeger and we get in touch with a chipper Martin, preparing for his upcoming set.

Dandy Jack: I’m really happy coming to Oslo, to see my friends.

Mischa Mathys: It’s not your first time playing here. Do you remember the last time?

DJ: It’s been a while. The last time was with Sonja (Moonear) 3 or 4 years ago.

MM: Are you and Sonja still together?

DJ: Not as a couple, but we’re still friends. We live in the same city, and we take care of our daughter together.

MM: And do you still collaborate on music?

DJ: We are not collaborating on music at the moment, but we are working together on the label, Ruta5. Sonja is quite busy, so I take care of almost everything, but we put together parties and everything else to do with the label.

MM: I see there are constantly new releases coming from you, not just as an artist, but also producing other people’s things. Are you in the studio every day?

DJ: Yeah, every day. I’m doing three things: I’m making music for me; I’m producing music for other people; and I’m teaching. I also organise workshops, I’m travelling quite a lot and lately often to Ukraine.

MM: Are you teaching production?

DJ: I teach how to mix down, and how to use compressors and mastering. Everything with Ableton, basically. I think I have a good knowledge on how things should sound.

MM: They couldn’t ask for a better teacher. You have over 30 years of knowledge in the field of production. Do you feel that you have to disconnect as an artist in order to do the other stuff?

DJ: This is perhaps a problem. I can have too much influence on my students and those people that want to be produced by me. In the end, it sounds like I did it. I become something like a ghost producer, but that is also OK, I don’t have a problem with that.

MM: And then there’s also the artists you put out on Ruta5.

DJ: I try to integrate a lot of other people, but when you take somebody on to the label, you also take on the responsibility. That’s more difficult.

MM: You mentioned you’ve signed artists from Ecuador and Japan, and you’ve worked with a Venezuelan girl too. That’s quite a global reach.

DJ: Ruta5 was born in Chile so I get a lot of requests from South American artists. It’s not frequently that I hear something interesting, so I’m also open to accept artists like this Japanese girl too. I always have a personal relationship with the artist and the goal is to create a friendship. Recently this young Russian woman who wants to release on my label; that for me is incredible.

MM: You don’t think this might be a bit controversial considering that you work in Ukraine as well?

DJ: I don’t like to politicise this thing, because people are people. She is not a Russian, she’s just a human being to me. A lot of Russians are also victims of their situation. I’m talking about young musicians. The next generation of young musicians, they just want to express themselves, and they can’t leave their country. I can relate because I also lived under a dictatorship in Chile and left the oppression and torture. You can’t open your mouth, otherwise you end up in jail. It’s horrible.

MM: I actually wanted to ask you about your time in Chile under Pinochet, because seeing the world as it is now, it’s gotta be quite relevant to your own experiences?

DJ: It’s a really frustrating situation at the moment. The illusion that humans could change is not happening. I have a feeling that we still need some generations to make a society work with establishing new interesting values, because the values today are down. It’s horrible what is happening now. Wars and people killing each other like in Gaza, it’s a horror trip.

MM: Let’s rewind to when you left Chile under the dictatorship for Berlin. What was Berlin like during that time?

DJ: We were all really young and enthusiastic. There was a lot of hope, thinking we could change the world. It was a very creative moment.

MM:This was the 80’s and I want to ask you about Sub Rosa, the first project specifically.

DJ: I was 16 years old.

MM: That was more industrial to what you are known for today.

DJ: It was inspired by Throbbing Gristle. It was pure industrial music like Cabaret Voltaire. These guys were inspiring, and I had the capacity to value this music. Many people didn’t understand it. I grew up during a time when people were listening to rock music like Santana. When I listened to On the Run from Pink Floyd the first time, I was 8 years old, and I was shocked by the depth and the possibility in music that makes you travel. This was the fascination in electronic music for me.

MM: Did you always have this association with the dance floor in terms of this type of music?

DJ: The dance floor came much later. In the beginning I didn’t agree with this Techno movement from Detroit. I found it a bit boring. It was depressing to experience this wave of electronic music coming into this world of electronic music, which I considered much more open. It was too simple for me.

MM: So what changed?

DJ: If it wasn’t for Ricardo Villalobos who said; “Martin, stop refusing and come to a club with me and dance to a boom boom boom, ” I wouldn’t be doing it. Back in the eighties, we had this inner conflict in our group, but in the end I accepted it.

MM: Was it that atmosphere in the club and listening to the music with other people that changed your mind?

DJ: Yes, it was about me leaving my arrogance at the door, and then I understood the complexity of the simplicity. I realised a dance track can also be interesting.

MM: People don’t always realise it’s not just about programming a drum machine. It’s about a groove and without it, the machine is just a metronome.

DJ: Yes, and I also had my latin influences to fall back on, like cumbia. Latin American music is rhythmically more complex than Techno. I had to find a way between both; the complexity of the rhythm combined with the industrial sound.

MM: As you started combining these sounds, at what point does it become second nature to you and you start putting records out?

DJ: In the beginning we were just copying tapes. James Dean Brown was a bit older than me and he was already connected to people from the 80’s industrial stuff. He had four tape recorders at home and he was running a tape label. We started making tapes in the beginning. The first record I made  was a project with Tobias. At that time he was called Pink Elln. He made the first pressing of a single that we did. It was a 45 and we distributed it by hand.

MM: Working in Berlin, as somebody from Chile – an outsider – was it difficult getting your foot in the door and into the scene there?

DJ: Yes, it was super complicated. In the end, me and Tobias, we split with another person in the group because he wanted to continue in the industrial stuff, and me and Tobias were making more “commercial” stuff. We got a contract with Sony music. If you listen to that music today, you understand it is far from commercial. It was an interpretation of commercial music that we had in our head when we were 23. Everything was new, and nothing was established.

MM: And then you hit a nerve and people like you and Ricardo Villalobos ushered i n this new era for Techno music. What was key to that success?

DJ: We had the opportunity to grow up in a moment when everything was fresh. There was also this mix between the moment, talent and the mission. You need all three elements to do what you are doing and then it obviously inspires a lot of other people. We were not trying to make a repetition, we were trying to make something out of nearly nothing. Everything came together in terms of what was happening with electronic music and the industry.

MM: Considering your early music and what you’re doing now, do you think you were ever pigeonholed during the Perlon era?

DJ: I was doing so much more stuff than what was released; thousands of tracks I did in the moment. I have the impression that my inspiration is not always the same. I like this phenomena that music looks like a camera. We live in a frame of time that is really small. I can still live from the ideas  developed ten years ago and it still sounds amazing.

MM: Let’s fast forward to the present. We have to talk about the next Det Gode Selskab release. Do you remember making Divine in Chile?

DJ: Yes. This girl (vocalist on the track) comes from Hip Hop. She’s a young girl from Venezuela and I met her on the street. She sings and raps really well and her approach to music is, she wants to be famous. When it came time to record the vocals for this track, she came with her own vocal producer. I played her 5 – 10 tracks of mine and this one, Divine in Chile, was the most harmonic one. For me it was an experiment, and I’m quite happy with the result.

MM:  Was it always intended for Det Gode Selskab or was it just a result of what you had on  hand at that time?

DJ: At the moment when they asked me, this was the best track I had to give them.

MM: Is that a request you get often; to make tracks for other labels?

DJ: Yes people ask me to make a track for them, but I don’t do it very often. I did this because Det Gode Selskab are my friends and I like to support them. I usually keep it for myself and turn it into four tracks, and put it out on my own label.

to be continued…

 

Pieces falling into place with Niilas

At the end of 2019 things couldn’t have been worse for Niilas, but then an album, a Spellemann and a new defining sound ushered in a new era of success and creativity

The winter of 2019 was a strange time for Peder Niilas Tårnesvik. He had just broken up with his girlfriend of 7 years, and then a double tendonitis in his wrists and then an eye infection exacerbated the situation. Just when life looked its bleakest and things couldn’t get possibly worse for Peder the pandemic arrived too and shepered in an unprecedented time for our society and more turmoil for the artist called Niilas. “It felt like my life had crumbled to pieces in a matter of weeks,” he says over a telephone call in a raspy voice. 

Things started looking up however. “At the exit of that long and dark tunnel, I had a closer relationship with making music,” he continues. Back in 2019, as he was working his way through that “fairly extreme” experience of a relationship ending, illness and the pandemic, he found solace in the music he was making and as he forged a closer relationship with that music some things began to click for him.

Niilas had been making and releasing music since 2014 and had even found some early success, but there was always something missing. “I got a lot of wind in my sails early in my career and I was comparing myself with Kygo, Røyksopp and Cashmere Cat; all these really big stars.“ It “almost destroyed everything,” however, as Peder used these artists as a watermark in his own career, an unattainable goal in reality for an emerging artist only at the start of his career.. “I put a lot of pressure on myself to become mainstream successful.“

Tracks from that era like “Ocelote” are uplifting sojourns through tropical hues of synthesised mallets while restless beats move listlessly from phrase to phrase in continuous evolutions of the rhythms . They are crafted meticulously and clearly touched a nerve within the zeitgeist,  but capitulating to what was happening around him only left Peder “really frustrated with the music scene.”

Peder kept releasing singles and EPs however, racking up the plays and the streams, and even though there was a relative hype around him and his music, he would never come close to those millions of streams and plays he sought. The frustration only intensified as a result and he kept “stumbling into creative walls, not finding my place in the music scene or finding my sound.”

Niilas performs River of Noise live at Jaeger

It would take the experiences of the winter of 2019 for a sonic identity to emerge for Peder. When he began putting the tracks he was making together, the red thread that would form the foundation of the album would reveal itself. Instead of chasing those unattainable reaches of success, he simply succumbed to the music. “After that process of letting go of all the expectations and comparisons; that experience really helped me in transitioning into the artist that I have now become.”

“Pieces fell into place” for Peder and his artistic identity in the album, because it solidified the sound of Nillas, where there was definitely a “before and after.” It brought something innately personal to the fore in the process and he found himself delving into the deep recesses of his psyche in something that laid buried in a collective history. He hadn’t really explored these recesses much in the past but within the context of this new music he was making a latent cultural heritage revealed itself in the artistic endeavour. “It has a lot to do with integrating the Sámi aspects of my identity,” he explains.

Peder is Sámi; a direct descendant of the indigenous people of northern Norway (Sápmi) and today their cultural heritage is polluted in the muddy waters of Norway’s politics of forced assimilation and of the discrimination the Sámi people have endured since the creation of a Norwegian state. Many people have lost their cultural identity and for Peder it was about redefining that in his music as he started to consolidate the themes and concepts around this new era of Niilas. 

It wouldn’t be easy though. “Since I don’t have the Sámi language and the traditional Sámi joik; I was struggling a bit figuring out how the experiences of coming from a Sámi family and coming from up north in Sápmi, how can that work in the electronic landscape.”

If it sounds abstract, that’s because it is, especially in the context of electronic music, but there is something peculiar to the music on “Also this will Change”. It taps into some natural instinct and an immersive sound quality. Synthesisers and samples gallop in and out of some vague idea of a time signature, following “circular way of thinking about time and structure within music.” Peder likens it to walking a mountain or forest path; “Even though the path is the same and the person is the same, there are always a lot of variables. It’s a lot about shifting perspectives between macro and micro.” 

It’s impossible to ignore that exchange between the natural world and the music, as field recordings and the burbling nature of the music make some direct associations with the Sámi’s own concepts and ideas of nature. It goes as far to speak of similarities between many indigenous traditions from other parts of the western world. At a recent event in Iceland, Peder  was struck by the musical concepts he shared with other artists from other “indigenous communities” like Greenland and Canada.” They particularly resonated with the “seemingly common ideas of connecting with nature;” in what seems to be a universal ideology in a culture that lives off the resources of the world around them. There is often a natural sympathy and a calm balance with nature in these cultures. 

This is something that definitely feels like it’s in the air at the moment with the winds of change blowing throughout indigenous worlds. From TV shows to movies, music to visual art, there has been notable activity from indigenous artists making their mark in popular culture at the moment. This cultural wave has largely fallen on this next generation’s shoulders as they, like Peder, try to grapple with a cultural heritage they might have lost through decades, if not centuries of discrimination.

Peder is not trying to be “overtly political” in his music, however. “I wasn’t bringing up this thing as an active choice,” he explains. “ In retrospect, across the whole Sámi community, people from my generation are taking their Sámi heritage back, and for my parents’ generation, dealing with a lot of the family trauma they were exposed to, and figuring out what to do going forward. And for my grandfather’s generation, they are also dealing with on-hand experiences of Norwegian society mis-treating their rights.“

“At the time it just felt that this is something I have to do right now, and I’m not sure why.” It’s easy to see it today in the context of the shifting opinion of a cultural wave moving across Scandinavia, but back in 2020, when Peder released his debut LP it wasn’t like he was tapping into this wave and even if you know nothing of his cultural heritage the music is still there without its reference points.

While, in the background there is this cultural heritage and the artist making the music, the nature of this stark electronic music, often without vocals, doesn’t insist on it. As Niilas, Peder folds in an eclectic palette of references in his music. From broken beats, to four to the floor  House music, to ambient constructions, he makes land on each musical island as he journeys toward those uncharted territories of what Sámi experimental club music could be. He’s used recognisable tropes in popular dialects of western electronic music as stepping stones towards this goal. He’s a product of his generation and like his peers his “artistic upbringing has had a lot to do with finding an immense amount of music from all over the world” through the internet.

From Flying Lotus to Biosphere, these have all informed a broad sonic landscape of influences. In the past, Peder, in search of a musical community online, was trying to harness all these influences and musical touchstones in making a connection to the “strange phenomenon” of the “deconstructed club music” community. Through the ideas of that community, Peder had created all these “fake rules that you found for yourself online” and promised never to make a four-four track. Armed with this set of rules and chasing the success it never really manifested for Peder in the way he’d imagined and he soon realised that this  “can be really destructive for the creative process.”

“I just let go of all of these rules and realised that making a House track is not the end of the world. When you let go of trying to have too much control over the material, the artist within shows up.”

Racking up a further three (“and a half”) albums in the same amount of years, Peder has cultivated an artistic sound that seems to be endlessly creative and the results speak for themselves. In 2020 he won the Spellemann prize for “Also this must Change,” an honour that validated his new sonic identity and “was a big confirmation that I’m not just making it for myself, but other people are actually listening to it.”   

It put the wind in the sails again, but this time there is some substance to it, and after following his debut with “Stepping Stones” and an ambient indulgence called “Hydrophane,” he closed out 2023 with his most recent album “River of Noise,” a record that has been lauded as much as his first.

River of Noise doesn’t mark any kind of departure from his debut or the albums leading up to it, but something broods beneath the surface. Tracks like “5th floor” almost completely dissolve themselves from any natural associations but you can still find those cultural touchstones in the names of the intro track or the quaint fiddle coursing its way through “Pyromid.”

The album is the penultimate step on an evolutionary ladder that finds Peder moving into slightly different territory. “Through the last 4 albums, I’ve been going through what the Sámi experience has had on my music and now it feels like I’m not dealing as directly with those Sámi influences, but working with those colourful dance tracks. They don’t have to be part of this heavy concept.” He’s already finishing up a couple of tracks in this vein, but at the same time he’s just finding enjoyment in the act of performance, whether playing live or DJing. 

The Spellemann is there on the shelf, but the ultimate validation for Peder these days is that “connection to the audiences. People get something from the music. That’s where the juice really is, it’s not getting a superficial award – but it’s easy to say when I’ve actually won it.” (Laughs) 

* words by Mischa Mathys

Our best kept secret: Snorkel presents N.A.O.M.B

We discuss the prevalent appeal of Olav Brekke Mathisen and Sideshow Jøgge’s N.A.O.M.B with Snorkel’s Olefonken and Snorri as the album gets the reissue treatment from the label and an official release party at Jaeger this Friday.

There are albums that live outside of their time. For a multitude of reasons, they never truly get the recognition they deserve. They might even inform a zeitgeist, and still not garner the same kind of distinction that their peers enjoy. It’s almost like they’re designed for obscurity, cultivating a brief dalliance with their audience before disappearing from view. Like a one-night stand at a star-crossed intersection it’s a fleeting encounter destined for wistful nostalgia. 

There are those however that never forget that encounter; hold onto it for a lifetime as a memory of sonic perfection they strive their whole career in an attempt to pay due diligence. Snorkel records’ Olefonken and Snorri are those kinds of people and Olav Brekke Mathisen and Sideshow Jøgge’s NAOMB is one of those albums. 

NAOMB or Nugatti all Ova me Butty came out over twenty years ago. It was a record that made an indelible impact in Oslo’s space race towards a “Nu” era of Disco at the time with artists like Prins Thomas, Lindstrøm and Todd Terje at the helm of the ship. While the aforementioned went on to great heights, Olav and Jøgge broke off at the first stage, making a contribution that was brief, but no less significant. International media outlets like Jockey Slut were quick to sing their praises, but as their one and only LP, and very little else in the form of music to follow from the pair, they kind of slipped into obscurity, at least in the music scene.  

Jøgge would become an actor, and Olav set his sights on writing, neither to ever venture into the world of recorded music ever again. You could argue if they had kept at it, NAOMB would enjoy the same kind of reverent awe as those first Prins Thomas and Lindstrøm records and as an album there is no reason it couldn’t still hold its own alongside some of Oslo’s more revered albums. Analogue synthesisers and grooves made for dancing bounce through 12 tracks, and they’ve hardly aged. The timeless nature of the sounds and their breadth of their musical dialect provide a touchstone from almost every decade of “dance” music; from progressive funk of the 70’s; the post-jazz inclinations of eighties and even right up to the French staccato of late 90’s House, it’s all there and it’s survived remarkably well. 

While the duo’s inactivity in the music scene might have certainly played a role in the album being largely forgotten there are still a few musical diehards like the people behind Snorkel, that will endeavour to shine a light where necessary. After a chance encounter with the pair, NAOMB gets the reissue treatment and what they’ve done is installed it in its rightful place in the Norwegian canon of music. As the label prepares for the official release party at Jaeger and the duo prepare for their accompanying live show, we got in touch with Snorkel and hopefully Olav and Jøgge to find out more about the origins of the record and its significance today. 

How did you meet Olav and Jøgge?

Initially, we were just kids trying to keep up with the cool of what our older brothers and their friends were listening to at that time, and Olav and Jøgge was one of them, so we were lucky to see them play live several times and thought they were cooler than a popsicle! And against all advice, we later took the plunge and actually hung out with our boyhood heroes. Lucky for us, they turned out to be two loveable guys! 

Has N.A.O.M.B always been on the back of your mind as something that you want to re-release, or was it triggered by the chance encounter?

N.A.O.M.B had always been on the back of our minds ever since we heard it at high school. It’s like the plague – you can’t get rid of it even how much you try – the only difference is that you don’t want to get rid of it either. It’s like a black cup of joe on a moonless night! 

That said, Snorkel wasn’t initially conceived with reissues in mind, despite our deep admiration for labels putting in the work to unearth exceptional music. However, two albums left an immense impact on our musical taste: dibidim’s debut album “Riders” and Olav Brekke Mathisen & Sideshow Jøgge’s “N.A.O.M.B.” If you plot these albums on a spectrum, everything in between shapes the Snorkel sound today. This release is the final token atop our totem pole, the foundation for everything else to come.

What was it about the record that endeared you to it in the first place? 

When we first laid ears on the record, it was like the musical equivalent of finding a hidden stash of chocolate in the vegetable drawer – delightfully unexpected and rebellious!

What were Olav and Jøggee’s reaction when you told them you wanted to reissue it?

It seemed like they didn’t believe us at the beginning. It was probably only when we started showing up at their doorstep that it dawned on them that we were serious! Now that it has become a reality, they have showered us with joy and gratitude, something we find peculiar and surreal to grasp, considering that for us, releasing this on our own label is a dream come true!

Did they tell you what was behind that title and the acronym for “Nugatti all Ova me Butty”? 

Oh, we never mustered the courage to ask! Some mysteries are better off remaining unsolved, you know

The record would have come out originally at a time when there was so much focus on Norway and Oslo specifically for what would be coined as Space Disco. Was it as well received as some of the other records coming out of Oslo at that time?

Even though “NAOMB” has been tucked away like a hidden treasure, unlike the more well-known Norwegian Nudisco classics of its time, it managed to catch the ears of influential DJs such as Doc Martin, Gerd Janson, and the late Andrew Weatherall, among others. Ironically, we used to be the secret-keepers, now 20 years later yelling from the rooftops about its triumphant return! 

It’s a timeless sounding record and it’s aged magnificently well. What in your opinion has contributed to its longevity?

Well must be that secret sauce – lubricating nugatti all over your butty!

Was anything changed in terms of music or post-production for the reissue and what were the reasons for those decisions?

The tracks “hasjbox” and “fluffy the vampire” are included on vinyl for the very first time, which they weren’t back in 2003. And also the whole album ends with Olav’s stunner “take to the sky” which is a really nice prick over the I, as we say here in Norway!

The original LP was never released on vinyl I believe and Snorkel is very much all about the analogue. What was the biggest challenge putting this on vinyl, and do you think putting out like this, in a format that it was never intended for, brought something else across on this record?

The biggest challenge was to get the boys to remember anything from 20 years ago. Where are the original projects? Do you have any back up disks etc. But then again the first song is called “hasjbox” so yeah, you see where this is going!

Is this going to be the start of some new music from the duo or is it destined for one-night only?

Going through the old disks uncovered a treasure trove of forgotten gems. As we are working on Snorkel’s new 12” series, who knows? We might just get more from OBM & Jøgge in the near future…

 

Making Music for Humans with Meera

In our exclusive interview with rising Norwegian House music star Meera, we talk origins, influences and the impact of her breakout single.

Meera’s name is on everybody’s lips at the moment. Every club concept and DJ in Norway has been trying to lure the DJ and producer to their nights. DJ booths from Ibiza to Oslo have welcomed Meera alongside older peers like Black Coffee and Simon Field. Her star has been consistently rising and her DJ talents have been a serious demand following the trajectory of her break out single “Music for Humans.” 

With some early support from the likes of Black Coffee again, Damian Lazarus and John Digweed – to name only a few – Meera started to shake the world’s dance floors through some of the world’s most influential selectors over the last year.  She’s followed the success of that record with two equally strong releases in the form of “Telefon” and “Clean the Turbines,” solidifying a sound for the young artist early on.

Between rhythmical foundations that err towards non-western traditions and euphoric melodic expressions that touch hedonistic heights, Meera has cultivated a unique sound forged on the foundations of House music. She’s emerged as a solitary figure with her productions hard to define and as it extends to her DJ sets, equally divergent from anything going on around her. 

After making her debut in Oslo and at Jaeger last month for Simon Field’s basement event, Meera returns to Jaeger’s booth this Saturday for Olle Abstract’s LYD. As much as we’ve followed her progress ver the last year, we know very little of the emerging artist and with her visit looming we caught up with her via telephone for an exclusive chat with Meera.  

Where are you at the moment?

I’m at home in Stavanger.

I read your biography and it mentioned that you grew up with your dad blaring music everywhere. What kind of music was he playing?

It was a lot of Hard-House, classic House and a lot of Hip Hop too. 

Does he come from a DJ background too?

He’s been DJing since the eighties.

And that was your musical education?

It was my introduction to DJing. 

How long have you been Djing? 

I’ve been DJing since I was fourteen, so 12 years ago.

Has there ever been any sonic influence from your dad, because I remember when I was 14, my taste couldn’t have been further from my father’s?

I mostly play my own music. 

So you didn’t start by playing the records that were just around at home?

I started playing digitally with Serato and stuff on the laptop. I didn’t start playing vinyl until two years ago?

Are you finding some classic gems in your Dad’s record collection today?

I do sometimes, but there is just so much music.

Was it always electronic music for you?

When I was young I was mostly into emo and rock, so a lot of My Chemical Romance and Linkin park, that kind of stuff.

How did you arrive electronic music from there?

I think I discovered Daft Punk and it snowballed.

Which Daft Punk era was this?

It must have been when the “Around the World” video was on MTV. 

At that point, did you change your whole attitude towards music and it became only about electronic dance music?

I was pretty into it, but I was incorporating French House with Rock and Hip Hop; everything I liked. I have always been appreciative of all kinds of music. 

I know Stavanger has had some really good DJs that has come out of it, but was there anything like a scene there that could cultivate your interests early on?

There was a small community of DJs starting up. We had this open-deck night at a bar that I used to go to, it was a cocktail bar. I would go there with some friends and it was pretty open to everyone.

How did it develop from there. Did you go into production from there?

O no, I started producing when I was 10 years old. I was already making music.

You were making music before you even started DJing. So was the point to get that music out there so people could listen to it?

Not really. I just thought both things were fun, and I did them independently. 

One doesn’t really effect the other?

When I was DJing at 14, I was mainly playing EDM and that kind of stuff and he music I was making, was more like Filter House, Garage and Drum n Bass. It was very different.

What was the route to the first release, “Music for Humans” because you must have been making a lot of music up to that point?

I did self-release an album and three EPs, but mostly it’s been only for me. I have this Soundcloud profile of really old tracks. It’s not something I advertise, it’s just out there.

Is it similar to the more recent stuff?

Not at all. 

Considering how big Music for Humans became after its release, is it something that you anticipated when you were making the track? 

I don’t really remember making it. I just sent it to the people VOD (Vinyl on Demand) and they really liked it. 

Did you expect it to be so well received, not only by the public, but by your peers; people like Black Coffee and Damian Lazarus?

No. I just thought it was cool that VOD was interested and then it just kind of blew up in a way. It’s been pretty surreal seeing huge DJ support and playing the track and the EP. 

That also led to playing to places like Ibiza. Are you still playing in that cocktail bar in Stavanger? 

Yes, I still do once or twice a month.

There must be a huge difference going from something like that to a Black Coffee night in Ibiza.

It’s pretty jarring.

Do you feel you have to adapt to that kind of crowd?

Not really. When I DJ, I play what I want to hear so it doesn’t change a lot.

After “Music for Humans,” came “Telefon” and “Clean your turbines” and there is a distinctive sound that emerges between those three releases. Was there a conscious idea to establish a sound for yourself or was it just because they were made around the same time?

The time difference between those tracks is pretty huge. I think it was just the direction the tracks ended up going in. I didn’t consciously try to make them sound like each other.

Well it’s very unique since you have these Latin- and African rhythmical motives under pinning these melodic, ethereal on euphoric synths. How did you come upon fusing these elements in your music?

It’s just a result of me drawing from the all the music I like.

How did the African and Latin elements specifically arrive into your palette?

Keinemusik and pablo fierro kinda drove my interested in seeking out more non-western music. That’s when I really got into that sound, and since then I’ve been listening to a lot of African Rock and Disco from the 70’s and  80’s. I discovered artists such as itadi, polibio mayorga, la solucion, and mulato astatke who have all had some kind of impact on my sound.

After these three releases do you have anything coming up, that you’re excited to talk about yet?

I have my collaboration with Danish trio Tripolism coming on Friday, that will be on Ultra. And then I have an Ep coming on Crosstown rebels in late February. Then I also have one coming in black book records in April or March. 

Are they all kind of similar to the sound you’ve already cultivated through the first three releases? 

The next EP is going to be kind of similar and the other two are going to be a bit different.

Thank you for talking to us Meera. We’ll see you in the Dj booth next. 

I’m really looking forward to playing at Jaeger again. 

I Wanna Party with Henriku

We caught up with Henriky via Berlin to talk about his music, Quirk, the Gode Selskab, his formative years, queer clubbing in Berlin and Bikini Wax ahead of his stint at Jaeger for Lokomotiv

From the suburbs of Oslo, via the UK ato eventually Berlin; and through Garage and House to minimal, Henriku’s path to the wax has stopped on many different elements of club music to get to his debut record Rush/Fantasy. While he never set foot in a club before leaving Norway, and with little input from anything he was hearing at home, Henriku has waded through a curious path in music. His associations with Quirk and Det Gode Selskab run deep, as the building blocks on  which his own approach to the minimal landscape has taken foothold. 

It was at one of Det Gode Seslkab’s boat parties where the seed of ambition was planted towards a career as a producer. After a stint at university where he studied the production art, he found his calling in the sonic landscape of those peers before embarking on the next chapter of his career at Quirk where he found a kindred spirit in the label’s founder Alexander Skancke. After a few collaborative releases via that label, Henrikuu released his first solo record “Rush Fantasy” via Det Gode Selskab records in what could only be described as fate.  

Henriku’s tracks  like “I wanna party” are club tracks with a purpose and a sense of frivolous fun that engages as much as it propels. There’s a sense of infectious enjoyment that courses from that track all the way through to a track like “Pillow Talk”, taken from “Rush Fantasy”. 

A DJ that operates in the extended minimal landscape, Henriku is a regular fixture in Berlin’s booths like Hoppetosse as well as some of Oslo’s booths like Jaeger.  (He even played at the very first Helt Texas.) He’s been coming back more often recently as his star continues to rise back home in league with his efforts in Berlin. He maintains a very close relationship with the Quirk family and together they’ve started to carve out a sonic identity based on the minimal sonic landscape and imbued by a queer vision of a minimal scene. 

We caught up with Henriku via phone call just as he was about to head out for a shift at the iconic Bikini Wax to talk about his music history, Djing and the queer scene in Berlin, as he prepares to return to Jaeger for Lokomotiv’s Romjulsfestivalen takeover. 

What have you been up to this weekend?

This weekend I played Iat Sisyphos, playing back to back with Alexander Skancke, my good and beloved friend. We played from 05:00 – 09:00 on Sunday morning. It was lots of fun. 

Are you playing every week in Berlin at the moment?

Unfortunately, no. I only started playing club gigs about a year and a half ago, with the first Quirk night. It still goes in waves for me. Some months I have plenty, some are a bit slower. November has been quite well. The week before we had a Quirk night at Hoppetosse. 

What is the atmosphere in Berlin like at the moment for DJs? I can imagine there are quite a few DJs out there at the moment. 

For the time being it’s quite alright. Personally, I think it’s a matter of point of view. A lot of people view the amount of DJs as competition, but I truly believe there is space for everyone to be creative and have success. It doesn’t have to come on other people’s terms. Yes, there are a lot of people, but there are also a lot of opportunities. That’s why the city attracts so many DJs. 

Are there new communities cropping up as well, or is it pretty much each man/woman for him/herself?

I think it’s both. I’ve found my community in Quirk. It makes the process of creating so much more fun, when you are building each other up, rather than stepping over each other. 

I always thought Quirk was Alexander Skancke’s label. Is the community, artists releasing on the label, or is it like a collective?

For the time being we are a total of five people that have released on the label, but mostly it’s just close friends at this point. It’s more like our friend circle. It’s artists who have released on the label, but it’s also broader, like the regular faces we see at our gigs, and good friends. We  are friends who like a similar kind of music and a core vision. 

From what I heard, it does seem like the label has a sound and it’s very much emphasised by the different releases and artists. How did you find your voice within the label?

Absolutely. Alex and I didn’t meet until 2019, and before we met we actually had a similar background in terms of the minimal sound, but from different points. Alex has been in the game a lot longer than me. He went through his minimal phase, went to sunwaves and then moved to Berlin, while tapping into those early nineties influences. And I have walked a similar path. I was obsessed with UK garage – that was my entry point – from UK garage I moved into House and then I moved to Berlin where I really got hooked on minimal. I went to Sunwaves where I got more hooked. From there I opened my horizons back to the roots of House and Garage and started exploring more Techno sounds. The red thread of minimal remains. That’s what makes the Quirk sound cohesive, if you will. Most of the people that are involved in Quirk at the moment, share these points of reference. 

It’s interesting that you mention UK garage as your entry into club music.  It’s not something you would associate with Norway at all. What led to that introduction?

I had a couple of friends from my gymnasium who did a year abroad in York, England. I visited and that’s where I had my first club experience. It was a funny mixture of commercial hits and UK Garage. The UK Garage and House Garage sound resonated with me and I needed to find more of it and find out what this was. 

Was this also the start of DJing and making electronic music for you?

I went back to the UK after this and to the Leeds festival where they had these camps that would play Garage and Bassline. And after I got home from this festival, I realised I need to be more in touch with this rather than just listening to it. I really wanted to start producing, but I was talking myself down saying; “no I don’t have any musical background, it’s way too late for me.” I tried DJing instead, and I bought my first DJ controller.  

I enjoyed it, but I realised it wasn’t enough. I looked into software for producing music, and thought I might as well try. I taught myself the basics through You Tube tutorials. By the end of that year, I managed to put together some tracks, and they were something. (laughs)

It was also at this point that I just finished gymnasium, wondering what I would do with my life and it was actually my dad that came across a university in Berlin that had a music production course. 

I’ve read an interview with you, where you mentioned you never actually went clubbing Norway. Is that correct; did you have no connection to the scene here before you left for Berlin?

Yes, that’s completely right. I had one friend who really enjoyed it. She had great taste in music and we reconnected when I was around 18 years old. She had already gone to a few raves and parties and showed me a lot of really cool stuff. At this time most places had an age limit of 21 so it was really hard. Before I reconnected with her nobody had wanted to go out with me. Luckily I linked up with her and the last party I had gone to was Det Gode Selskab boat party. I remember leaving that party, thinking there’s something really special here and it would be so cool to do something like this someday. This sparked something in me that really sent me on a mission to Berlin.  

I guess the Garage influences fell away when you moved to Berlin?

That is exactly what happened. Coming to Berlin and hearing Techno for the first time at Berghain and Griessmühle … The Techno scene was very different. Garage influences weren’t easy to find.

I wanted to ask you about something you said in another interview. You felt that there was a lack of queer representation in your scene in Berlin. Even in Berlin?

Yes, even in Berlin. There is a gap in the market. I am very curious about starting something up with some friends. Maybe if I find the time and energy. For the time being, it’s very locked in with contemporary Techno. Hardgroove is very big and so are those fast-paced sounds. There are some slow-paced sounds based around House music, because there is always the panorama bar to the Berghain. In terms of the minimal sound you’ll find at places like Hoppetosse, there’s not much going on for the queer folks. 

So it’s dominated by a straight audience, or the straight industry side of things?

It’s a combination of the two. There are definitely queer people that enjoy the music, but perhaps they’re not always the most inviting places for queer people. It’s not like there is any alienation, because there are still queer people showing up. In Berlin it’s very extreme in terms of the safe spaces these queer parties provide. Living in Berlin and experiencing that every weekend you get a bit spoiled. I  just think there should be a safe space for queer people to enjoy minimal music as well. I also think there is something to the fact that queer people are seeking High-Energy music. 

And you never got sucked into the hard and fast Techno that places like Berghain and Griesssmühle were doing?

I actually enjoy it on occasion. This summer I went  to a lot queer parties and spent some time with friends in Berghain as well. I think it’s fun as long as it’s groovy. I probably won’t produce it myself, but in terms of having a fun time, I can absolutely enjoy it. I need some ups and downs in the energy. What I miss in that scene is a story-line. 

When it came to the music you are producing today and in the context of Berlin, what was it that pushed you in that direction?

It was during my time at university. I made two really close friends in Sammy Lewis and the other one was Trent Voyage (who has also been releasing on Quirk.) As we were getting to know each other we saw we had a similar vision, and that was very influential on all of us. We went out and got a lot of input together; a lot from Griesmühle and Hoppetosse was a second home. 

It was really born from the club; what you were hearing in the club was directly influencing what you would do in the studio?

Absolutely. I see myself as a club kid, figuratively and then sometimes literally as well. There are influences from other kinds of music, but club music is what I do. 

It’s interesting that you mention club kids, because when I listen to your music, and the stuff you made with Alexander, you get the sense of having a good time. “I want to party” is probably the most on the nose example of that. 

Exactly and that is also one of the core values of Quirk; we don’t take ourselves too seriously. We just want to make fun, engaging music. Bringing these vocals in like that song, is part of it.

I’ve found there are often vocals in your music and adds to that sense of engagement. What do you look for in vocals when you add them to your music?

A lot of the vocals are my own recorded music. It brings a lot of freedom, in terms of the vibe or what I want to say, literally. I am also a huge fan of samples, when it comes to bringing in a vocal sample, it’s random. My sample library is big, but usually it’s about playing around and finding something that suits the sonic landscape of the track. I feel like the meaning almost always follows the act, and drives the direction of the track. 

When you  are using your own vocals is there usually a theme to the lyrics or is it all in the spur of the moment?

It’s often a combination. If I have a loop that I’m working on I might start writing things down on a piece of paper. I don’t have a strict formula. The ”I want to party” track for instance was on the spur of the moment. It started as a joke. Alex gave me the microphone and we were both hungover and the energy was a bit low. Alex was rolling his eyes, but also laughing. So I made a build out of it and played it back to Alex. 

Yes, you do convey that sense of having a good time, not just with that song but others too. We talked mostly about working with Alex at this point, but this year you brought out your first record of original material for Det Gode Selskab too. 

Yes, this was the first track I released on my own. I already had a few tracks on the digital compilation with Det Gode Selskab, but for the time being I only have one solo record out.  It came out on the 17th of May by accident. 

Did working with Alexander influence anything in your own music?

Yes, absolutely. It’s hard to say exactly what, but this aspect of jamming around, playing things on a keyboard, and finding a groove rather than programming things. I love to sit with a mouse and click things in, it’s a super fun process and I will continue to do it, but I will also incorporate some live jamming. It adds a little bit of soul. 

Alexander also introduced you to Bikini Wax, I believe. And now you work there?

Yes. I’m on my way there in an hour actually. It’s such a cosy atmosphere which I really enjoy. I was a long time customer for a long time and to be surrounded by records all day, and getting to learn new stuff about the history is such a privilege. 

What kind of influence has that had on your DJing?

It definitely has affected  the way that I look for new music. I’m listening to new music all day, so I’m trying to think long term in terms of which records I buy and also how they fit in my collection. 

Are you a little more hesitant because of the prices of records these days?

Of course. It’s not only that though it ‘s also about space. There are always records on the floor these days. 

 

Why we Dance with Hilit Kolet

We caught up with Hilit Kolet from Shanghai to talk about her musical history as she prepares to make the journey to Jaeger’s sauna again.

Hilit Kolet is a rarefied talent for these times. She has all the credentials: A job at an iconic record store; a classically trained background; legitimate studio experience; a knack for crafting dance floor cuts; and a sincere appreciation for the music above all else. She’s been celebrated by the radio jocks; lauded by her peers; played in some of the most influential spots; and remixed some of the best there is, yet her approach comes from a unique sincerity that is at odds with current trends. 

Her musical output is considered and her style as a DJ bristles with that eclectic attitude that only a record store employee has. She’s already established a reputation as a DJ’s DJ, built on the foundation of an avid music collector and enthusiast, born from her days behind the counter at London’s Black Market Records. Hers is a diverse collection of musical touchstones, coalescing around the expansive House and Techno music universe and when it comes to a dance floor, there are few who know it better.

Her breakout single “Techno Disco” via Defected topped all kinds of charts with successive releases only re-affirming her abilities and her sonic diversity. She’s remixed and been remixed by the likes of Terry Farley and Mike Dunn and her edits, like that of  Laurient Garnier’s “Crispy Bacon,” lives in infamy alongside its predecessors. 

While the piano provided the springboard for her musical education it’s the records that have provided the most significant impetus for Hilit’s musical adventures and as such there is only one place she appears most at home; the DJ booth. 

Last year, we had the pleasure of meeting Hilit for the first time and after a session for Øya Natt, we’re pleased to have the UK DJ and producer back  at Jaeger. Hilit Kolet arrives on the Sunkissed ticket this Saturday and we took the opportunity to probe the DJ and artist more about her interesting background and some of what is on the horizon for the artist. We find her  in Shanghai on the eve of the release of her remix of Why We Dance for Terry Farley & Wade Teo

Hello Hilit. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Tell us where you are at the moment and what you’re listening to? 

Hey, nice to meet you too. I’m currently in my hotel room in Shanghai having played last night. I’m listening to a new remix I’ve been working on, which is coming out early 2024, and also to a new beat I’ve started on the plane. It’s slightly different to what I’ve been making lately and I’m thinking it could make a nice collab with a vocalist I’ve been chatting to. Or I might just delete it and start a new idea, dunno.

I read that you were still doing piano recitals by the time you started getting into electronic music and DJing. What was the main catalyst in terms of artists, tracks,  albums or genres as you switched over?

Yes that’s right. My mum was working as a piano teacher all through my childhood, she was teaching children on our beautiful grand piano, which took up most of the sitting room… I spent all my afternoons on the sofa watching the lessons, and when I was about five, I started becoming somewhat of a disturbance, telling students to ‘go home because it’s my turn to play the piano with mummy now’ hehe. I ended up training at the local conservatoire, doing the full thing, 4 times per week, including recitals and playing with the orchestra and all. I discovered electronic music at around 12 or 13 years old, back then I was listening to early Kenny Dope, Cajmere, Marshal Jefferson, Deee-Lite, Xpress 2, Yello, Steve Pointdexter, Leftfield – Leftism, Laurent Garnier, Robert Hood, Todd Terry’s sax album, Chemical Brothers, Daft Punk – Homework, Pet Shop Boys, Yazoo, Basement Jaxx, a real mix. 

It took me a few years to completely ‘cross over’ but at one point I did. Classical music was a great way of processing pain and challenging emotions, but it was mostly about a heavier spectrum of feelings. Now, I discovered that music was also a way to express joy and passion and excitement, and it was really refreshing and somewhat liberating too.

How does that early musical education influence what you do today and what was the main challenge in going from traditional musical training to electronic music intended for the club? 

That’s always been an interesting subject for me, because I think that in many ways, having had a traditional, classical music background was counter-productive when I first started experimenting with music production. With DJing it was very helpful for sure – all those music theory and music literature lessons I took as a kid have trained my ears really well, and it made mixing intuitive and easy, but producing my own music felt different: it was too ‘sacred’ almost. 

It took me a while to work out that this was a direct repercussion of the strict Eastern-Europe mindset they had at my conservatoire: sheet music only, Chopin, Debussy, Schubert, Beethoven, memorising your chords, learn 26 pages all by heart. The teacher nearly fainted when I asked if I could try some jazz or improvise a little for a change…

And of course, producing music, especially electronic music, takes a lot of improvising and a ton of letting go – of music theory and of all other “rules” too. I do feel like I’ve come out the other end though. I’ve taught myself to give in to “happy accidents” as oftentimes they make the best bits. Plus, life is messy anyway right, so art should only follow suit.

You spent some time working at Black Market too. Besides being surrounded by that kind of music all day, what did you take away from that experience?  

Working in the shop exposed me to musical scenes that were not on my radar at all, like dubstep and drum & bass – two genres the shop played a pivotal part in nurturing – and while they’re still not my go to’s, looking back it was certainly nourishing for my overall musical diet, and it was also a good exercise in keeping an open mind musically. I do think that as a DJ and a selector, it’s important to develop a sonic identity, or a ‘sound’, but it’s also important to remain curious musically and to try and break out of your own echo-chamber.

How has your taste evolved during and after your stint there and are there any records from that time you refuse to ever part with? 

Well I was working there over a long period of time, 7-8 years, so ultimately my taste would have changed a lot during that phase anyway, but one thing I do know is that my understanding, my ability to map the underground dance music landscape, labels, artists, scenes and how they brewed, was nothing comparable before and after. Records from my time at the shop that I will never part with – there’s so many as I’m not parting with any of my records hehe, but here are a few: Mr. G – Space Bassed, Cassius – Youth, Speed, Trouble, Cigarettes (Radio Slave Remix), Rolando – The Afterlife, Theo Parrish – Falling Up (Carl Craig Remix), Alden Tyrell – Touch the Sky (which actually features MD on the vocals), John Tejada – Now We’re Here on Kompakt, Luke Solomon – Space Invaders (Andomat 3000 Remix) on Rekids, Jon Cutler feat. E-man-  It’s Yours and so many others.

Were you DJing before Black Market? 

Not really, not professionally anyway. I was always collecting records and I was really into radio. I was 12 when I decided I was going to be a radio DJ and a music journalist, mainly so that I could get my hands on promo copies, and later on because I wanted to help others discover the music that I felt (and still feel, most of the time) was saving my life. So that’s what I did, while exploring and studying both electronic music and clubbing as cultures. It was very obvious that it was my ‘thing’ in life, but for some reason DJing in clubs was never something I had on my list. 

It was only when offers to DJ came in while I was working at Black Market that I thought, “well maybe I should give it a try, after all, I always go out hoping to hear the records I discovered this week, I always think to myself, mmm I would play this record with that record…”. Literally everyone around me was like – “thank you! Finally!” and I felt really odd and a little silly that it made so much sense to them, but never even crossed my own mind.

What was it about DJing that first intrigued you and what does it mean for you in terms of a creative outlet that you wouldn’t necessarily get from producing and/or playing the piano? 

It’s an obsession. If I’m into a track, I have to hear it again and again, and the only way to get it out of my system is to listen to it on a really big rig, a few times, and dance to it…. Ha. I think it’s the same for most DJs? I can only guess. I’m limited doing that at home (even my daughter tells me off!) so it’s kind of a necessity.

DJing has always been this fleeting thing, subject to contemporary tastes and impulses. What remains sonically consistent in your DJ mixes for you? 

Lately I find that I need equal measures of groove and drive in a track for me to get into it. I can’t have all groove or all drive. A funk injection is good, also a touch of sex appeal. I also like my music raw, or with a raw feeling if you know what I mean. Yes I go through a lottttttt of tracks before I find something I dig.

I believe you have some experience working in a studio too. Is there something to working in that environment that changes the way you approach the creative aspects of making music? 

Yes, I owned a high-end recording studio with my ex-husband for nearly a decade and that’s where I also picked up production. It was stuff of the dreams, a 64-channel Neve desk, one of the largest synth libraries in the world, all of the plugins you can possibly think up, same for sample libraries, and it was so much fun, but it was also really distractive.

These days I’m mostly in the box in my smallish but cuteish home studio, with the odd 909 or SH-101 thrown in, but I get ideas down much quicker this way – and isn’t music mostly about ideas – as is all art? 

I mean, you can’t make a bad idea better just by using the latest plugin, and it’s also not about the number of analogue synths you’ve invested an arm in, or how many channels you crammed your project with… It’s about having a vision and a certain feeling you want to put across, or at least that’s how I see it.

Your next record, ‘Hot Mess’ will be coming out next year and I had the pleasure of hearing the tracks. What were some of the ideas behind that record, and how it came together on Rekids?

Oh you have, I’m glad to hear this. The starting point for ‘Hot Mess’ was the decision not to use any loops, so it’s a 100% programmed drum machine werqqqout. I made the first version of the track on a pretty intense day and I remember thinking, wouldn’t it be great if I somehow managed to capture how I was feeling at that point AND get rid of it at the same time… Very quickly I had this relentless groove going, and I then felt it needed a raw, emotional vocal to give it contrast. It took quite a few versions before it was finished. I was working with the vocalist remotely over a few sessions and playing about with arrangement and mixdowns quite a bit because I’m a bloody annoying perfectionist, but I think it was worth it. When Matt Edwards said he wanted it for Rekids I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been following Rekids since day one and absolutely adore everything they do.

And Mike Dunn is on the remixes and brought some of that Chicago flavour to it.  What’s your relationship with Mike and what were your first impressions of the remix?

I met Mike at a festival in Croatia a couple of years ago. I think by now you’ve probably realised I’m a massive Chicago house fan and of course, I’ve been collecting and playing Mike’s music forever, so to have him remix my music is simply incredible. I love the deep groove spin he put on ‘Hot Mess’, it’s so different to my original and I think that’s exactly what makes a remix interesting.

I guess edits and remixes like this next one for Terry Farley and that infamous Laurient Garnier edit keeps you busy too. How do you usually approach these tracks, especially when you’re handling a legend like Terry Farley’s work?

Edits and remixes are two very different creatures as far as I’m concerned. I’ve done quite a few edits over the past couple of years of ‘classic bangers’ (as I like to call them) that I wanted to play out but felt needed an updated finish, both in terms of sound as well as arrangement. I’d try and pay respect to the original while put a little spin on it, but mostly I’d just aim to make a modern version of the original that sits well within my DJ sets. That’s what I tried to do with Laurent Garnier’s techno anthem ‘Crispy Bacon’; Laurent loved it and played it and so did Carl Cox, Patrick Topping and others. It still amazes me that Laurent then decided to release it on his new album’s limited edition boxset… What an honour. 

When it comes to remixes, I think they could potentially hold more room for creative freedom, so that a release package offers the remix as a different flavour to the original. With those, I would try to find a hook or a few hooks that really clicks with me, sometimes use another distinctive sound off the original, and mostly have my own drums and sounds on top. That’s what I’ve done with my remix of Terry Farley & Wade Teo’s track, which is out this weekend on Rekids. And yes Terry is a total legend and a bit of house dad and mentor to me, which I’m super grateful for.

A lot of energy in that one. I assume playing a track you’ve made out is never too far from your mind when producing music?

Absolutely, I first and foremost produce music I want to be playing in my own sets, it’s how I got started with producing. 

There are a few of your contemporaries that have capitulated to the 3 min track to appease the Spotify algorithm, but both this remix and Hot Mess are well over 5 min. What are your thoughts on dance music producers following that trend and where do you draw the line in your own music in terms of appeasing an audience?

The 3 minute edit is usually an additional version a label would ask the producer to cut, with radio and streaming in mind. It’s something I can understand from a business point of view but having to butcher an arrangement you’ve tweaked again and again for the dancefloor is far from fun… Which is why it’s a relief that labels like Rekids don’t ask for these versions.

You’ve said in the past it’s all about the crowd and the night for you. This will be your second visit to Jaeger. Any idea how this night will go?

I’m looking forward to it so much! I absolutely loved visiting and playing Jaeger last year, I was so impressed with everything about it, from the amazing system to the acoustic treatment of the room to the oak smell to the double-headed mixer to the crowd and of course with Ola and the team. This time I’m back with a ton of new music I’ve made over the past few months, including a couple of brand new tracks I’ve not played out at all yet, so I can’t wait.

And lastly, can you play us out with a song to set the mood? 

Of course, here’s my new remix of Terry Farley & Wade Teo feat. Kameelah Waheed ‘Why We Dance’, which is out on Rekids this weekend:

 

Hilit Kolet is on Instagram and Spotify

A new House with Casablanca 303

We meet up with Oslo’s newest musical arrival and Badabing artist, Casablanca 303 to talk bout his musical history and more in a Q&A.

Alejandro aka Casablanca 303 is really settling into his life in Norway. “I really like the music and the nature,” says the Colombian artist over a coffee in Gamlebyen. We’re walking distance from his home, where he also has his studio, and he talks in excited terms about the artistic and “bohemian” community that thrives there. 

While little is known of his career outside of Norway to us, Casablanca 303 comes from an established background as a DJ in South America, and has been making waves in Bergen and Oslo since relocating here with his Norwegian partner in 2018. It was in Bergen he first got his “foot in the scene, assisting at concerts, parties and even raves.”  

There he found a welcoming community, none more than with the Mhost likely crew, who operate their labels and event series out of the city. It was with them he would release Perspectives, his first record in Norway, before moving onto Oslo and finding a new home for his music through Vinny Villbass’ Badabing Diskos imprint. 

That EP, Lucid Dream / Estereograma established the name Casablanca 303 in Oslo too and as he prepares for his first live show since the release at Jaeger, we caught up with the artist and DJ to talk about his music history and more. 

What was your involvement in music before moving to Norway? 

Back in the days I was working as a tour manager for a festival in Colombia for some international artists and that gave me some connection to the US. I played some clubs in Miami and also met some producers. But I was in that moment, still defining my sound and what I really liked. 

Miami really? There is an incredible underground electronic music scene that we still revere with the likes of Miami bass. What was your experience of the city?

Miami has a lot of layers. If you land in South Beach, you get the commercial, overcrowded pop scene. You have other things that also happen in the city; underground stuff in terms of art and music Miami has other sounds. Every city has these mass-consumption parts and then other more bohemian / hipster parts that are more open to underground sounds visuals. 

What was Colombia like; is there a healthy underground electronic music scene there?

Yes, Colombia has a lot of everything. You have a lot of layers of music. There are those artists that want to explore more of the caribbean- or roots music of Colombia and transform it into electronic music. There are two artists that I know that have played at Jaeger actually, and they are into that thing. Mítu is one Colombian band and they employ some afro rhythms and vibes with an underground electronic music. I couldn’t call it House music or anything like that. It’s just electronic music and it works. We also have artists like Felipe Gordon, who are killing it internationally. He’s younger than me and it’s so cool to see him blooming. 

How did you make the transition from being a tour manager and working in the scene to making your own music and releasing records?

Much before I was a tour manager and working at festivals, I was Djing and gigging. I was playing all over Colombia and the Caribbean. I also played in nearby countries like Ecuador and Peru.  

Would you say you were a successful DJ back home?

Yeah, back in the days. It’s easy when you have some of your friends own the best clubs. I was playing regularly. I’ve been DJing since 2010 more-or-less.

That must have been quite an adjustment, being at that level and then playing for what I can only assume is much smaller audiences and a smaller scene.

Since moving to Norway, I’ve been playing some. Mhost Likely in Bergen got me some gigs, and here in Oslo I have found some collectives in my niche, mainly House music, Disco and balearic; sub-genres of House- and electronic music. I don’t play as often, but I’ve started  transitioning from Djing to being a live performer. That’s my main goal, I just want to play my own music. 

Do you find it more fun than Djing?

In some way, yes. I really like to play instruments. I am  a former guitar player, and I’ve been playing since I was 11. Even though I don’t play the guitar much in my productions, my music starts from the guitar, and then I translate it to synthesisers and music software. My music is all about improvising, and that’s what my live performance is all about; it’s my music and then I do some extra things on top of it. 

I was going to ask about the guitar, because I noticed the guitar in your music, and I could tell there’s some background in playing in bands from what I heard. Is that the first thing you did in music?

Yes, when I was 17 and 18 I played in a Death Metal band. I’ve never been a radical person when it comes to genres, so when I wasn’t playing in the band I was playing Rock n Roll or Jazz. The same has happened in electronic music. I focus on certain things, but I’m really open to genres. Even pop music, good pop music isn’t bad.

How did you get into electronic music from there? 

I think metal had something to do with that. There were some Scandinavian bands that were transitioning from certain sounds of death Metal into more industrial territory, incorporating beats. I started liking the synthesisers they were playing and realised it was danceable. 

What was your first engagement with pure electronic music, like House or Techno?

I think it was when Groove Armada played in Bogotá. I was at the beginning of university, around 2006 and there were a lot of electronic music artists coming to Bogotá. Another artist that came over was Armin Van Buuren. We have something similar Russefeiring – when you celebrate the end of school – and some promoters take a chance to bring some big artists and promote some parties. 

From DJing did you take some time to develop your own music before you started releasing music?

While I was DJing, I had already  started producing, because I had some experience with the bands I was in. I was also finalising my education, so I didn’t have much time to produce my own music. At first it was all in the computer, but then I started getting some analogue gear, because I wanted to just plug it in and record the synthesiser, like we would with metal. It took me a while, but I would say that I only started recording electronic music, a little before moving to Norway. 

Was Visions your first record?

Yes, but before that I made a cover version of a popular Colombian artist. At that time I was captivated by Deep House and its melancholic sound. 

Yes, it reminds me of something that might have appeared on Life and Death or a Stephen Bodzin record. I noticed however that by the time we get to the Perspectives EP on Mhost likely, there’s a change in your sound. Would you agree?

Yes, definitely. It’s also the transition of me moving to Norway. 

Ok, was it a direct influence of moving here? I thought I might have heard some Scandinavian Disco influences in there, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. 

Yes, I started to dig more into Disco and House music. I wanted to experiment a little and I was influenced by what was known of Norwegian music in South America which was Space Disco. Even though I don’t do Space Disco, I take some elements from Space Disco, from artists like Prins Thomas, Todd Terje and Bjørn Torske. I really like their eclectic style. 

And this was around the same time you started working more with hardware?

Yes. There is one piece of gear I’ve always wanted, and that’s the Moog Voyager synthesiser. I bought it here  in Norway second hand and that was one of the best days of my life.  The guy that sold it to me lives in Årdal which is close to Sogndalfjøra. It was so cool driving through that nature to go and buy this synthesiser. This synth, whenever I’m blocked creatively, I stop producing and just tweak this thing and suddenly  a sound would emerge. That happened with my last EP (Lucid dream / Estereograma) for Badabing. 

Besides the synth, were there any ideas that laid the foundation for that record?

I’m trying to produce this House music sound, but trying to give it personal space. I don’t consider myself a pioneer,  I just take the things that I like and mix it up and turn it out. 

Are there any artists or influences that you aspire to when you put these things together as you say?

Absolutely. I used to like what KiNK was doing before. He is really good, because he captures a lot of genres that I like, from piano House, jazzy House, a little bit of Techno and breakbeats. It’s insane, he can play whatever he wants. He mixes his knowledge of music to play and perform and that’s something that inspires me. Also my friend Felipe Gordon; he is another person that performs his instruments and that’s what you hear in his music.

 

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Talking about performing your instruments, is that how you usually start your composition process with a piano line?

I usually start with a groove, like everybody else. I start with some percussion and then I take the synthesiser or guitar and provide some bass-lines. I also like to play with samples and manipulate them to create strange melodies. In that EP for Mhost Likely, I re-sampled myself and reversed some loops and created some foundations and textures. 

You’re playing live at Jaeger. Will that be your live debut in Oslo?

I tested it out at Musikkfest this year, for Olle Abstract at Dattera til Hagen. He was the first person I met of the legends here from Oslo. He was so welcoming and he played my tracks in his monthly podcast. That pushed me, and sometimes you need that. 

 

2 years of Flux: A Q&A with the Flux collective (Part 2)

Part two of our roundtable conversation with the Flux Collective talking about and looking toward the future of the scene ahead of their event this Friday.

In a mere 2 years, Flux Collective has established a profile in Oslo’s club community that rivals even some of the most established Techno concepts around. Going from the forests in summer to the clubs in winter, they’ve garnered a dedicated following in Oslo’s clubbing community, which is starting to reach tendrils in the rest of Europe carried on the wings of the label.

Aside from their own solo efforts as DJs, artists and live performers, each member of the collective takes on specific roles within the organisation, which runs more like an enterprise than a community. It culminates in a multi-layered approach that covers each aspect of club culture and is currently looking towards new avenues that will take them into more abstract regions. 

Last week, we talked to them about their origins, their thoughts on the Techno scene and more. In part 2 of our extensive Q&A we cover the future possibilities of the collective; their move from Oslo’s forests to the clubs; and how a pandemic opened up the floodgates for this new scene.  They’ll be releasing Metamorphosis n this week to celebrate 2 years of Flux, with a dedicated event in our basement to mark the occasion. 

Mischa Mathys: Andrea, you mentioned something earlier about the explosion of Techno. That concurs because what people were calling Techno here was essentially Tech House in my opinion and then suddenly there was this huge demand. Before that there was maybe Void and a few very niche DIY concepts doing this kind of sound, but then suddenly exploded. What do you guys think was the catalyst for that in Norway?

Andrea (Anémi): I just think that Norway has been hanging behind. Techno was a new thing for many and people were excited about it because the scene has been made mainly around minimal, or Tech House. The new kind of sounds that arose really had younger people talking about it. 

During the pandemic everybody was feeling suppressed. A lot of young people, especially the people who hadn’t been able to go out in the clubs, even though they had come of age, had been angry and disconnected. I feel that’s why Techno flourished, because it’s these people playing underground music and making home raves or home parties.

Henrik (Skodde): Because so many new people were discovering underground music and just calling it Techno. I was playing every favourite I had as a child. So we can play Techno, Hard Trance, and Trance. Nobody cares but everybody cares, because people are very accepting. Not right now, but at the beginning.

Andreas (Skodde): One thing that’s really cool about the Oslo Techno scene right now – and we have a lot of communication from outside of Norway–  the scene is different because if you host a party in Berlin, it’s only one sound the whole night. In Oslo you can get Breakbeat, hard Techno, Psytrance, Ghettotech; you can get everything in one night. The Oslo scene is completely different from anywhere else in the world right now, because of the forest raves. A  lot of the DJ’s don’t even know about these big artists, they just know what’s going on in Oslo.

David (Bjerregaard): I have an idea and it has to do with politics. If we look at the rest of Europe, especially central Europe, Norway is very conservative when it comes to partying. We have a lot of rules and we have very strict rules regarding drugs as well. For a long time Techno and the whole scene was frowned upon by clubs because they didn’t really dare host these kinds of parties; because they would get a lot of pressure from authorities. 

Mischa: Yes I remember a stint here at Jaeger where we couldn’t even promote a night as a Techno night. 

David: But I’d say that in the last five to ten years the cops are also much more lenient. It’s more liberalised with taks of legalisation and so on. So that combined with the covid shutdown, reset the attitude to a lot of people who run the clubs. They saw there’s a huge demand for this kind of music, so it became a renaissance for this music.

Gaute (Naboklage): But why is there such a demand for this music? 

David: Well, there was always a demand. It was gate kept and then it was shut down for a year and a half. And then after that, they were like, “okay, let’s give it a shot” because they kind of forgot how it was. I had never been to a Techno party in Oslo before covid. I’m sure they existed but to me it was completely unknown.

Gaute: People keep telling me that we had parties before. I never saw it. People would say, don’t think you’re doing anything new. 

Mischa: People in your age group?

Gaute: No older people and they’re like, “oh you think you guys are doing something new we had parties before.” You probably did, but not at the same scale. They didn’t have 500 people. 

 

Skodde the young people, who were not used to clubs, were so free at the raves and suddenly they came into the club and if you were dancing too hard or had your shirt off someone would tell you, you can’t do that.

 

Andreas: Henrik and I have been in the Techno scene for 10 years. We were in a friend group where everyone listened to Techno before covid. We went to Berlin, we went to Amsterdam, we did all these things because there was nothing happening here…  And when there was nothing else happening, the forest raves happened. The people came to the forest and did the thing. There’s a reason why people like Techno and listen to it and when you go to a Techno party a certain amount of time because that’s the only place you can meet friends, of course you’re going to enjoy it. 

Gaute: A lot of people who hadn’t gone to Techno things before, went to it and they were exposed to something new. For Norwegian people if there’s something that’s a little bit different their default thing is just to be like, “no, this is weird.” But because of this lockdown, people allowed themselves to be more open-minded and then at some point it became trendy.

Henrik: Because the raves were the only opportunity to go to a party, people actually got to experience or rave music, in the way it’s supposed to be listened to, not through a set of headphones.

Gaute: At the same time if a 20 something kid and his friend just throws a party, they really can play whatever they want, but if you play a DJ gig at a club, there’s a lot more expectation.  There’s this very rigid structure for what you do and what you play in this time slot and if you fuck up, there are no more club gigs. 

So you have this incentive to conform to whatever they’re already doing at a club. Whereas if you’re just throwing a party with a friend for fun during covid, then you’re like “ok fuck it, let’s just play whatever.” You can play for as long as you want, and you can do whatever you want. This allows people to experiment and do a lot of fun stuff that never would have happened in a club and this kind of opened Pandora’s box.

Everybody groans in agreement. 

Mischa: Going from the raves to the clubs as a concept, what have been some of the biggest challenges?

Gaute: The crowd is really different.

Andreas:  It’s really the bouncers.

Gaute: Also the opening times. It’s so hard with the people arriving at the club, a bit before 1am and then they leave around 2am. Maybe they stay until three. You have two and a half hours, whereas for a rave you have eight hours of curated music. 

Andreas: Also our crowd doesn’t like clubs actually. That’s the hardest part because the young people, who were not used to clubs, were so free at the raves and suddenly they came into the club and if you were dancing too hard or had your shirt off someone would tell you, you can’t do that.

Mischa: So getting your people to the club is not going to be easy, right, so, how do you motivate them? 

Gaute: There are limits to what we can do, but we do what we can with what we have. Something I’m really upset about is that Norwegian music events are all funded through alcohol sales. If your music isn’t inclined to sell alcohol then it’s a lot more difficult to do events at nightclubs.

Andreas: That’s actually why we’ve moved more and more towards Jaeger and ditched a lot of the other clubs. I really like the vision of Ola because he’s really into the music. 

Mischa: You guys are still doing the raves on top of this, so why do the clubs at all. 

Gaute: The logistics are extreme; It’s like doing a 30 hour shift.

David: It’s weather dependent… Because you can’t do it in winter. And it becomes a little watered down if you do it every two weeks in the summer. There’s no way we’re able to do it anyway. 

Gaute: … and there’s the police and there’s a bunch of idiots doing drugs. If you have 150 people, close people that you know can behave, then it’s fine. But once it’s 500 to 1000 people, then the odds of one person doing something stupid is quite high. It’s really frustrating because if we were allowed to set up the infrastructure to do it in a responsible way, then we would. We have to keep everything super low key. If we ideally could communicate with the police and maybe an ambulance or something, but you can’t do that because then they’ll just shut you down. 

Andreas: We also want to do things as legal as possible. 

Gaute: Because we want to run a label and we want to live off of music and then you can’t just do illegal shit.

Mischa: Is that something that could still be realistically achieved in the current music climate, living off music, especially as a collective?

Andrea: I think it has to be a combination of different things. We have some interesting ideas on how we want to go forward with Flux. The label has been doing well but it will take some years to get it all around.

David: And the parties fund the label basically. 

Gaute: We do a lot of stuff for free if not everything. 

Andreas: We only got 3000 NOK each this year. You can’t bet everything on one horse. You need to do several things and that was our vision from the start.  

David: We basically don’t take out any fees from our own parties and we spend everything to either make better parties or to book artists, to build our network of connections. For instance, we took some of the people that we had here (Jaeger) this summer, to the forests. Then the rest goes into the label. 

Mischa: So, you are trying to start a community outside Norway as well?

Gaute: We want to export the Oslo scene to the world. 

Andrea: And it’s happened naturally because of the label; the people whose music we released, are the people we’ve been talking to and invited to our parties. 

Gaute: They’ve played our stuff at the famous German club. 

Mischa: How do you find out the artists that land on the label, especially outside of the collective. 

Andrea: You just have to be a big nerd. I just have a radar and pick up on what’s around. 

Mischa: Do you specifically look for anything in terms of a sound, and do they have to represent something like a Flux sound for you?

Andrea: I have some plans for the next few releases. We actually have been releasing quite a lot for just being able for two years and we have released a lot of Oslo-based artists, because we wanted to support local artists. From that our sound has just been growing, but we are going to have fewer releases and more curated releases. 

So we are putting more effort in the production. At the start, it was more like, “oh, I like you, you should release on our label.” Haha. This was so cool though and I am happy for all the releases we have had with all these amazing people. We have evolved a lot since then though and I am excited to work on new curated releases. We have a lot of attention in Europe actually and all around the world, which is really cool, being a small label.

Anemi We want to take people through a journey, also on a deeper level.

Mischa: Is there a confluence between the artists on the labels and the ones you book for the events? 

Andrea: Hmm, we have booked artists we wanted to collab with and artists who already have released music with us, but it doesn’t always have to be an agenda with them. It’s just that we dig their music and their persona somehow. 

And originally we were going to do a lot more art, but it’s coming next year. We’ll be doing more events focused on visual- and conceptual art. 

Andreas: We want to work with modern art and experimental visual exhibitions with light and sound.

Gaute: An audio visual space for events, where it’s not just blasting music with a strobe, but more like an installation; a whole production. 

Andrea: We want to take people through a journey, also on a deeper level.

Henrik: This is really important to do here in Oslo, because of the short opening hours clubs and we’d like to not just play the night shift every week but build an experience.

Andrea: We’ve just been doing so much, playing every weekend and we have just been growing steadily towards the thing we actually want to do; which is the combination of a lot of things. 

Mischa: Do you think that after the pandemic and after you set your own standard in the scene that there’s a lot more people coming up, copying your formula

Andreas: Yes. I think it’s a compliment 

Gaute: I want people to come to  our parties and be like, “fuck, I could do this better” and then I want  to go to their event and be like “shit, this is better, we have to be better”. If they play the exact same songs and do the exact same thing, that’s pretty lame, but if they do something different but better then that’s amazing. We should inspire each other to improve our own unique things.

Andreas: Because we have the connections with the clubs and the bookings, we have actually helped a lot of the competition getting into the clubs.

Andrea: Flux has always Invited a newcomers and up and coming artists and will continue to.

Henrik: I do feel there are more different collectives and more concepts under the umbrella of Techno music now than there used to be for House music, just three or four years ago. 

Andreas: The scene supports each other much more. Even people I thought didn’t like us, when I get to talk to them, they do and vice versa. The Techno scene in Oslo is really kind of nice to each other and supportive.

2 years of Flux: A Q&A with the Flux collective (Part 1)

In part 1 of a 2 part Q&A session we talk to Flux Collective about Techno’s current trajectory, the creation of the collective and how they arrived at Techno, individually.

It feels like we’re teetering on the precipice of something in Techno. Social media is a constant stream of DJs playing to crowds of thousands when it’s not showing queues outside of some of the world’s leading techno clubs.There are tutorials on YouTube about dressing appropriately for club nights and even mainstream TV shows are making references to Berghain (or “Ber-gain”). 

It’s prevalent, and its popularity has surpassed nearly every other electronic dance music category, but as it continues to reach tendrils into popular-culture, it’s diminishing its underground affiliations in the process. 

As something grown from the subterranean caverns of disused power plants and dystopian motor cities, where musical laymen re-appropriated machines to create futuristic noise, it was always supposed to be a counter culture. Its continued acquisition into mainstream culture however has seen the tawdry side of music business and popular culture eradicating much of those original values and DIY ideologies of the genre. What we’re seeing now is similar to what happened at the turn of the century for Techno, when big rooms and festival stages saw it divided.

Yet again, factions are starting to emerge with one group exploiting its current popularity for their own success while another has turned on its heels, taking the music back to the underground. The Flux Collective consider themselves part of this latter group. 

A collective of producers, artists and DJs, the Flux Collective host events, they release records and they facilitate a community for Techno enthusiasts in Oslo, even when there are no places to host them. Their raves in and around the city’s forests have left their mark on the next generation and alongside the likes of Ute Klubb and Monument they have helped establish the next era for Oslo’s Techno scene. Between the events, their label and the artists involved, their efforts have made a formidable impression in the 2 years they have been around and they keep pushing the boundaries of the music and the scene.  

Together, Andrea, Andreas, Henrik, David and Gaute have been a force in Oslo’s underground since their inception and in a short time they’ve managed to carve out a significant portion of the clubbing community for themselves. Their label continues to go from strength to strength and the latest compilation, Metamorphoses marking their 2 year anniversary will only go to cement their staying power. They are a hard group to pin down as individuals with each bringing their own set of skills and personality traits with them, but as a group they are cohesive (even if they might not always agree with each other.) 

As they arrive at Jaeger to celebrate their birthday next week, we sat down with all five of them to talk about their history, their thoughts on music and the future of Techno. Our conversation was broad and extensive, so we decided to break it up into two parts. Here follows part 1. 

Mischa Mathys: Where do you guys find yourself at the moment with a version of Techno that is going harder faster? 

Henrik Ottersbo (Skodde): From my point of view, I see a lot of similarities to what happened exactly 20 years ago. We had Techno and Trance in the late 90s here in Oslo, and some were moving towards a more commercial; doing the Tiesto thing while others kept to the original progressive Trance and Techno vibes from Tresor. And I feel like we are on the same path right now. 

Mischa: You think it’s going to move underground again?

Andreas Ulstein Granum (Skodde): Yes! 

Henrik: Yeah, I feel our sound is going to be more underground, with the other people going in a more commercial direction. 

Andreas: Hard Techno right now is basically EDM.

Gaute Holen (Naboklage): The biggest Techno DJs, their instagram is just super professional videos of festival drops. It’s so far removed from what we’re doing. 

Andreas: It’s just the same rave stab in every song. (Mimics the sound) It’s the same as EDM basically just at 150 beats per minute. 

Gaute: I think we’re trying to experiment and do different things. As the hard Techno is a lot more popular, I feel like we are bored of hearing everyone play the same everywhere. So we’re just trying to keep it interesting for ourselves by experimenting. Right now it’s more glitchy and weird.

Henrik: …and more groovy…

Andreas: … and not that hard, with more baselines.

Gaute: There’s also Hardgroove, that’s really popular. 

Mischa: Yes that seemed to come out of nowhere and it’s based around the Ben Sims label, but isn’t quite that either.

Gaute: Yeah, exactly, but now it’s taking off and happening in parallel to the Hard Techno thing but it’s fun.

Andreas: She (Andrea) was the first to play Hardgroove in Oslo after covid, right when clubs opened… and now she doesn’t.  

Andrea Emilie Eriksen (Anémi): Haha, yes. I had a phase where I played Hardgroove and other genres as well. I have evolved my sound pretty heavily since I started playing out. It’s a continuous journey where I feel I am finding myself more and more and that reflects on the music I play and vibe with at that moment. Same with Flux. We are not following any rules.

Mischa: We’ve been using the term Techno, but in the context of Flux, it seems like it’s more of an umbrella term, for what is essentially machine music made for dancing. And anything from Breaks to Ambient can fall under that umbrella for you.

Andreas: Other people are labelling us as Techno, but we’re always trying to say we’re an electronic music record company. If something is in a state of Flux, it is constantly changing. That’s our core – We always want to develop and not be labelled as any one thing. 

Mischa: So put a name to it.

Andreas: Electronic underground music. 

Andrea: Experimental electronic underground music, maybe.

Mischa: And if you were to describe the sound of this to a layman?

Henrik: Weird, groovy, witchy, experimental, industrial.

David Bjerregaard Madsen: Not that industrial. 

Everyone shouts out in protest.

Andrea – We are open for new artists and new sounds and you don’t have to be Techno, just be something that is unique or something that is really good. 

Andreas: You (Henrik) think industrial is the thing that you think of Tresor in the 90s, but industrial now is just hard Techno.  

Henrik: Yeah, thank you for the correction, I’m an old man in an old man’s body. (laughs) But yeah, also some psychedelic can fit in there.

David: Psychedelic soundscapes with Techno drops. 

Andreas: I think some commonality in where we’re heading now,  is textures and layering. Almost like a cinematic approach to producing music. 

Andrea: We are open for new artists and new sounds and you don’t have to be Techno, just be something that is unique or something that is really good. 

Gaute: And it shouldn’t be completely new, but something a little bit different from what you heard before. It’s better that it’s different and bad than it being really good, but exactly the same….

Andrea: …boring.

Andreas: For the audience too, it’s boring to just follow trends, and do the same as anyone else. In our production right now, Henrik and I (Skodde) are really into the groovy stuff but we’re still into the raw Techno that we came from. It’s much cooler to sound like nothing you heard before then like just ripping off everyone else. 

Mischa: Henrik, you were talking about being around for that period in the early 2000’s when Techno turned to the underground again, and I believe Andreas called you a boomer at some point. Are you the elder statesman of the group?

Henrik: We’re the same age. I grew up with a mother and father listening to Trance music. And also a friend of mine introduced me to a record called ravermeister. It’s a compilation with Trance, Trance-Techno, Hard Trance, everything from 1995. When we started listening to this record, we were four years old so by the time I was seven I wanted to become a DJ. 

I started to produce music before DJing, because Djing at that time was a lot more difficult to get into. It was all vinyl, and giving two record players and a mixer to a seven year old was too expensive. 

Mischa: Is that the case for all of you, did you all get stuck into this free from a young age?

David: For me at least. I’ve always listened to electronic music, maybe not as long as Henrik, but since my mid teens. But DJing, I only got into it four years ago, because I thought it looked cool…

Everybody laughs

… and then I just bought some equipment. I actually enjoyed it more than I enjoyed looking cool. I also had never been to any raves. Right after getting into this, I organised raves with my friend. This was right when covid happened and as it happened, we were like, “oh well, everything is closed, so we might as well put a rave together.” I did that for two years and then I got in touch with Andreas, who I knew from high school.

Andreas: We’ve known each other since 2008 or something. He was my friend’s little brother’s friend. He was just a guy I picked on.

Mischa: Andreas, you were doing raves by the time David reached out to you?

Andreas: I was doing a lot of music stuff. I organised Hip Hop parties, House parties, a lot of stuff. I started off with black metal actually. I really really like metal, that’s the thing I listen to the most.

Mischa: Andrea how did you get involved with Flux, amongst all this testosterone?

Andrea:  Haha. I try to break it up with some feminine energies. We (Andreas) met here (Jaeger) actually, seven years ago, on the dance floor. 

Andreas had already played out for a while and was a bedroom producer then. He teached me how to mix and that just became our hobby at home.To Mix and listen to music. We started Flux Collective in the pandemic and we did some raves together the summer of 2021 which kind of just escalated. We also did one with David who also was doing his own raves. Same with Gaute; everybody was just doing the thing out in the forest. We had no plan with ending up here you know, it just happened as we went on doing the stuff we loved and just followed our hearts. Flux first started out as a rave-series, then a label and club-series shortly after closer to the fall/winter of 2021.

Mischa: So the idea for the label has been there from the beginning?

Andrea: Our first release was 2 or 3 months after we started out. It was Skodde’s first release. 

Mischa: What were you doing before Flux, Henrik?

Henrik: I used to play at Villa, as Good Mood with a friend of mine. We worked together for five years and at some point I wanted to do more Techno and he wanted to do more House.

Naboklage – And then all the people who were organising raves met by showing up to each other’s things. 

Mischa: Gaute that sounds similar to your story. You were in Toalettkollektivet (which had a residency at Jaeger), which was doing House music originally, and then both you and Leo (foufou malade) moved over to the darkside. 

Gaute: Yes, we had a bunch of events here. At some point I said; ”right now, I don’t listen to any House music, I don’t want to play house music anymore.”  And then Leo and I started something called Tempo instead, which was the polar opposite of what Toalettkollektivet was; No rules, do whatever you want, just like back in the old days before they invented all these sub genres and it was like; “let’s go to a rave and there will be music.”

Mischa: This was before Flux?

Gaute: Yes, and originally the first Tempo event was supposed to happen before Flux was a thing, but ended up happening around the same time as when I released a record with Flux due to restrictions coming back. The second Flux release was my release. I joined as an artist, but I helped out with a bunch of stuff too.

Andrea: We were in it together from the start, actually. Attending all of the events together, hanging out. 

Mischa: So was the idea behind Flux to merge all these satellite things you were doing separately?

Gaute: Exactly. 

David: It was Andreas who picked his favourites. 

Gaute: …Stole people from the other crews.

David: It was Andrea who had the idea though. It was August or September 2021, that’s when she made the instagram page. I didn’t really understand what it was all about and then a few months later I got it when I joined officially. 

Andrea: It was just a natural progression, all of us working together. It was just meant to be, you know. (laughs)

Andreas: The thing is Andrea has the ideas and I’m a bit of a doer; I like to get shit done. So when she tells me she wants to do something, I would have already called everyone I know, we’re starting tomorrow and she’s like; “that wasn’t what I said.”

Andrea: Things happened quite fast and the culture was really booming. After the pandemic it was sensational, freeing and magical to hang out in the woods and dance and listen to music. 

Mischa: Stepping into forests as the pandemic shut everything down, was there some competition out there?

Andreas: We actually didn’t know the competition until after covid. 

David: The competition is much bigger now than during the pandemic. This summer has been really heavy and it’s been hard to get people to pull up to your rave because during the pandemic, you go to one or two, if you get to know about them or you don’t go to any at all. Now it’s fucking everywhere.

Gaute: People didn’t really care about who was playing or who was throwing the party. And then all the people who were organising raves met by showing up to each other’s things. 

Mischa: I guess you could avoid stepping on each other’s toes when you know each other. 

Gaute: Exactly. That’s something I feel we’ve been trying to do. For example; Earlier today, some guy messaged me to ask if I was going to do a rave next weekend. We try to coordinate.

Andreas: The communication is really good and we’re like, everyone knows each other. 

Gaute: We help each other, we rent out shit to each other. We lend stuff. It’s super nice. 

 

Cleaning House with Ivaylo

Ivaylo talks openly about the end of his personal relationship and how Lab Cleaning Jams rose from those ashes as the DJ, producer and label manager embarked on this new phase of his life.

It all came crashing down for Ivaylo Kolev one day in 2023. As  he sat in his car, faced with yet another unsurmountable responsibility on the back of a year of unrelenting upheaval and turmoil, the dam finally burst. The sleepless nights and unceasing worry had nowhere else to go, and manifested in the only way possible as tears welled in his eyes. After his partner and mother to his three children abruptly left him last year, he’s been caring for his three children alone while facing a tumultuous legal battle with his ex-partner, the kind you only see in hallmark movies. 

In the past, Ivaylo could channel those emotions and anguish into music, but this creative outlet had laid dormant during the last year as all his energies focussed on the life-changing situation at hand. “I wasn’t able to make music, mentally,” says the Bulgarian DJ from his home in Asker, Oslo. Sitting in his light and airy dining room, things aren’t exactly looking up yet, but Ivaylo’s disposition is surprisingly upbeat. He has always been nothing but candid face to face, and that stoic personality forged behind an iron curtain and cultivated in the cultural inclusivity of a dance floor, has been nothing but amicable.    

“I still see the connection; That’s what Lab Cleaning Jams is all about, it’s just jams, just music.” 

When it comes to music Ivaylo’s dance card has never been anything but full.  He is a familiar face on Oslo’s DJ circuit, playing almost every weekend and the man behind the Jaeger Mix concept amongst others. He is also Jaeger’s logistics man and the face of the club when it comes to our visiting DJ guests. And when he’s not doing those things, his the label manager for Prins Thomas’ Full Pupp. You might also remember him from his label Bogota records. 

Downstairs in his basement studio in Asker, a few physical copies of the last Bogota release line the shelves. “I give them to friends,” says Ivaylo when I refer to the remnants of the label he has declared defunct. Will he ever revisit that label I ask, knowingly. “No, That boat has sailed;” comes an immediate reply. “Everything is personal for me, how can you work with art and not be personal?” 

Bogota Records is particularly personal and had a specific connection to his ex-partner and as the relationship broke down, he abandoned the project. It’s taken him the better part of the year to come to terms with the end of that era and forge ahead with the next phase of his life, but whatever he is going to do, it won’t include Bogota records. That’s why I’m here, talking to him in the basement studio. He is on the verge of ushering a new epoch in his music and it will be called Lab Cleaning Jams. Named after his monthly mix series, the concept has now turned label and by the time you read this he would have already released the inaugural record in the form of a 3-track digital release, pragmatically titled Jam 1-3. 

Down in his basement studio he plays me a few snippets from this and a few of the future releases. Boblebad has the honour of the next release after Ivaylo and the first track from them he plays is instantly recognisable as Boblebad’s distinctive disco-infused jacuzzi Jazz.  There’s some similarities to Ivaylo’s own productions but by the time he gets to Boblebad’s second contribution; an erratic jittering piece that looks towards some acoustic IDM interpretation, the connection is severed. The contrast is obvious, but Ivaylo disagrees. “I still see the connection; That’s what Lab Cleaning Jams is all about, it’s just jams, just music.” 

Ivaylo skips far ahead into some unfinished pieces from his own catalogue. Immediately there’s a correlation between these pieces and the first two tracks he just put out via Lab Cleaning Jams.They’re all different to anything that has come hitherto from Ivaylo. In the case of the Jam sessions, Ivaylo forgoes the dancefloor-friendly sequenced sounds for some acoustic elements. A cymbal splashes, a double bass rumbles, keys jingle and even a saxophone tweets sweetly in tonally adrift Jazz improvisations. 

For now, most of these tracks are still ”just edits” and while some might take a day to finish others “might be two weeks” away from completion. In one of the most recent creations a reggae vocal sample suddenly appears through a din of upbeat piano and it’s completely unexpected. Where did that sample come from? “I don’t know,” replies Ivaylo. “I have so many samples and I don’t know where they come from.” He’s been amassing a sample library of note since he started making music in 1996 and it can go from his earliest musical indulgences behind a drum kit in various Jazz-fusion bands between Bulgaria and Norway to a year’s worth of sessions recorded in a bachelor-pad-turned-studio back in the early 2000’s. “I literally have everything,” he says through a grin. “The only thing I need to play is melodies.”

After digitising everything back in the day, he only needs to dip into this sample library he’s amassed. Most of the time he’ll only add a bass line or melody and while this is something that has been consistent in his creative process for as long as we’ve known him, there is a subtle difference in the type of samples he’s started using in this new era for his work. 

There’s an organic touch which becomes immediately evident when you listen to Ivaylo’s first outing, Jam 1. The beat skips between conga and hi-hat, while a sine wave punches a hole in the first step of every bar as a kick drum. When a Rhodes piano joins the melée in staccato stabs we’re in Funk and Soul territory and any reference to Ivaylo’s more functional intuitions are laid to rest. “I want to work with musicians, I want to work with real music,” he explains of the ideas behind the new tracks. 

“If you listen to the music from before it’s darker – Now I feel free. ” 

After a long period of being in “a dark place” with the sudden change in his life, he felt that he needed “to listen to live piano and live bass”. It was like starting from scratch, with a new point of focus, coming together around this new label and nudging Ivaylo’s music into a different direction. These new pieces are lighter than anything that came before them, with a spring in the step of the rhythm and a buoyancy in the melodies. He realises that his situation during the period leading up to the eventual turmoil  “kept me in a dark place. I had to run as fast as I could to the light and my light is the music. If you listen to the music from before it’s darker – Now I feel free. ” 

I sense there might be another reason that this music has shifted so dramatically from the kind of tunnel vision-functional demand of club music. As somebody that works behind the scenes in the club scene in Oslo, Ivaylo sees all sides of the DJ booth and what he’s seen in club music over the course of the last year has only dissuaded him from those dance floor inclinations. 

“When it comes to club music, I’m bored. I’m bored of the music because it’s the same, I’m bored with people that make something different just to be different, but end up sounding the same as all the other ‘different’ things.” Ivaylo misses the “art” of making music in a period where everything is dictated by industry and business. “It’s obviously not because of the music, it’s because of the mechanism behind everything” and when everything is so “artificial”  Ivaylo finds it necessary to adopt a more “organic” approach in the music he is making now. 

It’s something that has spilled over into his DJ sets too. “I’ve come to realise I’m not a good DJ…” he says pausing for me to make the obvious argument before he continues; “when I have to play a 2 hour set. You have to create your vibe, and that takes time.” There aren’t many opportunities to do this today especially amongst younger audiences that crave the immediate and perfunctory right from the start and lineups feature a host of DJs packed into a 4 hour lineup in Oslo. Ivaylo “worried about the younger generation,” particularly at a time when “everything is divided” as it is, but he has enough skin in the game and enough years in the DJ booth to bide his time and work through it.

Between the changes in the industry and the changes happening in his personal life, Ivaylo found a life-line in this new label. Where most in his situation, specifically those that work in the club music atmosphere, could have easily sunk deeper into the vices that inherently follow club culture, Ivaylo did the opposite. He’s stopped drinking and smoking after 30 years and spends most of his free time making his own yoghurt and jams while tending to the sprawling garden we look over from his dining room window. 

I’d like to think this is reflected in the new music he is bringing out and he thinks that’s because whatever he does in music and his label he needs to stay “loyal to my personality.” He thinks it’s just about being “honest with the music” and that has afforded him some aspect of freedom a year later.  If Ivaylo’s honesty in music is anything like the candid personality sitting behind the artist, it will certainly shine through Lab Cleaning Jams and the music he is making now. 

Everything for the Groove: A Q&A with Funk for Forest

Funk for Forest do everything for the groove. Born from the lineage of Funk that transcends their collective years at times they channel a music legacy directly to the dance floor today.  The fleeting lineup, which can grow to ten people, comes from a long line of Norwegian live acts who fuse Funk, Soul, Disco and more obscure genres into accessible dance floor cuts. From the upbeat Frank Znort to the futuristic fusion of Flammer Dance Band, Funk for Forest joins an impressive lineage of live dance bands in Oslo’s history.  

Cultivating a sound that skirts the fringes of black American music, but updated and honed to accommodate a dance floor where the DJ reigns supreme, Funk for Forest brings a new dimension to timeless- and future classics. Their references are eclectic and engaging as they create live edits from familiar pieces, channeled through their distinctive musical proclivities. 

Funk for Forest are unique today as they’ve approached their craft solely from the stage. At a time when  bands arrive fully formed with at least one record and a label deal, Funk for Forest have opted for the more traditional route as a live band first. Rumors are abound of some recorded material on its way, and Funk For Forest will undoubtedly soon hit their stride in the recorded format too, but for now they are a live band in every sense of the word. 

We caught up with the band via email to talk about this upcoming performance at LYD this Saturday, some influences and we got to know a little more about the emerging band. 

Hey guys. Can we start with a roll-call; Who’s in the band and what do they play?

The ensemble changes slightly from gig to gig, but for the upcoming show at jaeger the band consists of Elias Løstegaard on bass, Elias Tafjord on drums, Jesper Fosdahl on guitar, Viktor Ognøy on percussion, Thomas Antonio Debelian on percussion as well, William Foreman on keys, Eira Elise Øverås on trumpet, Mikkel Brekke on trombone and Jeanette Offerdal on saxophone. 

What brought you all together and what was the music that you initially all bonded over?

The band was started by Jesper and Elias with a wish to have an arena where we could play the music we loved the most, that being funk, afro-funk, disco, club music and all other iterations of the funk-genre. We just reached out to the best people around, and people we knew got a kick out of the same music as us. Turns out crowds also love groovy music, who would have known. 

The Funk element in your name is pretty self-explanatory, but how does the forest factor into it?

The name is a slightly corny pun playing on the environmental activist group Fuck for Forest who most memorably, in lack of a better term, fucked on stage at Quartfestivalen 2004. Initially the name was just for fun, but we also try to be a band with a focus on sustainability. Not flying to gigs, putting some of our payments from gigs in environmental funds, buying second-hand stage outfits and other things like that. A good example is that we are making some merch for our Halloween gig at Jaeger, the t-shirts are made here in Oslo and the profit from the merch-sale goes to Regnskodsfondet. 

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It’s unusual lately to find a live band that is not already fully formed with records and a label behind them. Why have you opted for the alternative route?

Funk for Forest was always designed to be a live experience, so it made sense to just start playing and having fun with the project. Our hope is that crowds recognize how fun the show is, so we opted for a sort of word-of-mouth approach. It just felt the most natural to us, and it takes away the pressure so we can have full creative control. 

I hear a lot of familiar pieces, reworked, but you’re not exactly a cover-band either. How would you describe your live show for the uninitiated?

We take a lot of inspiration from DJs and the club culture, so that’s what we try to be; a live, 8-piece band that acts as a DJ playing you the grooviest edits of the music we love. Some of the tracks we play are truer to the originals, while others are more complete rearrangements. We always try to create the “Funk For Forest”-edit, it’s more fun for everyone that way. A big focus has been on making the set flow together, with seamless transitions between the tracks so that the party never stops. We also try to command less attention than your usual band would, so that the crowd can focus on each other and enjoy the grooves. We want to see you dance.  

What do you look for in the songs or the elements that you incorporate in your live show?

If we think people would dance to it, That’s always the main priority. We also look for material we can make our own, or we think would work well with the ensemble we’re rocking at the time. And it always has to be groovy.

You guys play a lot of music that’s older than most of you. What is your relationship with this music and how is it generally passed down to you all?

Everyone in the band has some level of music-education, so a lot of it has been introduced to us from fellow musicians and the environments we were taught in. We also love the music we play, and there has been a lot of digging through catalogs trying to find the perfect tracks. Our love for funk has been expanded a lot through working with Funk For Forest. 

Besides the obvious Funk influences like George Clinton, what are some of the less obvious touchstones for Funk for Forest?

As mentioned earlier, we take a lot of inspiration from house and disco. Todd Terje and Dimitri From Paris are huge inspiration to us in that area. We also love older funk ensembles like Average White Band and disco acts such as Roberta Kelly, as well as more modern funk-and-disco-harbingers like Orgeone, Cory Wong, Nu Gunea and so on. Also the Norwegian funk scene is super cool, we love artists such as Flammer Dance Band, Hubbabubbaklubb and Sex Judas. Many mentioned, many forgotten, but there you have some obvious touchstones!

With 8 people in the band, I assume many of not all of you are also engaged in other projects. What does Funk for Forest represent in terms of music that you don’t necessarily get to do anywhere else?

It’s not that often you get to play music written by somebody else, in your own creative package. It’s an arena where we can play fun music, the music we love the most, where we can really let go. We love to dance, and to be able to play music for people with the sole intention of making them move is something we don’t get to do often!

Who are some of the live bands that have inspired your own performances?

All of the bands and artists named above are brilliant, but a new discovery for us is the French artist/producer Dabuell, the live concert with his band from Paris that is up on Youtube is a gem and has been a source of inspiration and joy ever since we discovered it. Stuzzi from Sweden is a great live-act as well and I think an honorable mention is the Sunday-staple Frank Znort at Blå; always good vibes and great energy.

There’s talk of some original music coming. What can the listener expect that would be a bit different from the stuff you’re doing now?

We don’t know how much we want to give away, but yeah we are making some music and when the time comes we are looking forward to sharing it with everyone. It has to be groovy, that is the most important thing for us, and I know it is for our crowd as well. 

Will any of it be making an appearance during the show at Jaeger?

Probably not. We want to make sure it’s done right by the high Funk For Forest standards of excellence before we premier anything. There is still some time before the gig so we will see, it is going to be a great party anyway, and we can’t wait to dance with you all!

Lastly, please play us out with a song.

In the spirit of the funk and the disco, it has to be: Parribean Disco – Cotonete / Dimitri From Paris.

Be Inspired: A profile on Octave One

We dig through the legacy of one of Detroit’s finest, Octave One as they make their way to Jaeger’s basement for another round of their awe-inspiring live show.

In Detroit, “everything was around us” according to Octave One. The brothers Burden are an indelible addition to the early history of Techno and one of Detroit’s finest exports. Born into the environment that birthed everything from Motown to the Model T automobile, the Burden brothers tap into a vast and extensive history of music and machines that all feed their singular creative output as Octave One. While Lenny and Lawrence are the central figures as the performers of the group, most of the brothers have a hand in some production aspects and running their label 430 West.

Their success is a stark contrast to circumstances into which they were born at a time when Detroit was going through one of its many downturns. “When the car industry declined, it caused a lot of problems in the city,” Lenny and Lawrence told Bridges for Music. People “went from making a lot of money to none” and “had to leave to survive.” That was happening as they grew up and for those that didn’t have the resources to leave there weren’t many options, especially for kids coming of age. For most being born in that environment in the USA there were two options, the military or prison, and for a few lucky ones there was also, sports or music. For the Burden brothers it was the latter and things got noisy real quick… 

“Having all of us in the house playing music could be kinda chaotic at times,” they reminisced in a Musicradar article. Their mum was nothing but supportive, because if it was noisy, she could be content with the knowledge her children were safe. It was ”a form of discipline because she could count on knowing exactly where we were.” The brothers had had a rudimentary musical education from elementary school, and it was emboldened by an eclectic musical taste. “We have a great love for early Old school RnB, Rock, Industrial and even some HipHop,” they told 15 questions;  “… our influences are endless!” 

They weren’t alone in their music adventures during this period., because while they were developing those influences, a whole city seemed to plug into the same wavelength, and Detroit Techno started to emerge. The Burden brothers had already been consuming “tons of Chicago House,” by the time the proto sound of Techno arrived with the likes of Model 500 and Transmat records and the transition was an effortless one. 

Techno was still in its infancy with the first wave of artists to emerge, but the Burden brothers would be there on the cusp of it too, even if it was still early days. “When we started in 1989, our exposure to Detroit techno primarily came from the radio and clubs, but you could have easily escaped it because there wasn’t a lot of it.” From that exposure, they bought “a couple of drum machines and synthesisers” and started making their own music. “It seemed amazing to us that we could make a whole song with just a few pieces of equipment.”

At the centre of their sonic explorations was the Roland TR909 drum machine. “Once we got the 909 I was hooked – that machine’s like a drug” Lawrence told Musicradar. “With the 909 we always say that if we sell that then it’s over.” The drum machine became the centrepiece from which they started to construct their own music, influenced by what they were hearing around them in Detroit. They were embedded in the scene early on, working the lights at the music institute (Derrick May’s joint) amongst other things, but they were not gonna get a free hand out either. Derrick May wouldn’t even give them a DJ set at the place they worked and the cassette tapes they sent for peer review from the labels around them “got rejected quite a few times.” They continued to work at it and the exposure to the new sounds of Techno emanating from places like the music institute undoubtedly only fortified their efforts. 

After a few more cassettes their work finally paid off with a release in 1989 on a forthcoming Transmat compilation and the follow up to the genre-establishing Techno! (The New Dance Sound Of Detroit) compilation, simply called Techno 2 – the next generation. At the time they were still unnamed. “We were put on the spot by Mr. Derrick May when we were asked what was the name of our band,” they recalled in Electronic Beats. “He left the room and we did a very, very quick ‘huddle’ to come up with a name on the fly that we felt best described us, and the name Octave One was born. And it meant and means all of us (Lawrence, Lenny, and Lynell) working in one accord almost as if sharing the same octave.” The track, “I believe” inaugurated Octave One as a fixture in the second wave of Techno coming out of Detroit alongside the likes of Carl Craig and Kevin Saunderson.

Not merely content with that release, the Burden brothers launched their own label right out of the gate, establishing 430 West almost directly after their debut. It was almost unheard of back in the early nineties for an unknown electronic music act to start an independent label. “Apart from Richie Hawtin’s Plus 8 and Carl Craig’s Planet E, not that many people had started their own label back then. We did it out of necessity because Derrick didn’t put out a lot of music on Transmat and we were ready for our next release.” 

430 West came “a time when even a bad record would sell a couple of thousand” and what started as one record soon took on a life of its own. In a couple of releases they established not only a sound for Octave One, but also for their label. Taking those rudimentary Techno archetypes of the generation before them and refining it, they had hit a nerve both in Detroit and Europe. There was, and remains a subtlety there that feigned the brutalist functionalism of the sole drum machine for a richer texture, even going so far as to set up the subsidiary label in the form of Direct Beat for their more functional- exploits and artists like AUX 88.   

Throughout the mid and late nineties they toiled away at both the label and the Octave One project, releasing records that have been coveted by collectors and enthusiasts since they were underground rarities at their time, most of which have only been appreciated with the advantage of hindsight.

Octave One became a touchstone for anybody interested in that early period of Detroit Techno, but this doesn’t mean that struggle has come without success for them. In 2000 they broke new ground with a crossover hit in the form of Black Water. The track sold over a million copies, thanks in part to the soulful vocals of Ann Saunderson, breathing live into the bubbling synthesisers and accentuating the emotive content of the strings.  

Black Water came at a significant time. Not only would it be one of the last examples of physical records selling into those high numbers, but it came at a time when the height of popularity for electronic dance music. As more people flocked to the music, the clubs,  the radio and even MTV, exploited this popularity with big business getting behind the genre for the pay day. As the big-room started selling out, most of the protagonists moved their music and act back toward the underground in this period, while some even abandoned these genres altogether for the likes of Punk and Disco, waiting out the tawdry commercial aspects that took hold.

Octave One took to the former, adopting an “adapt or die” approach during this period. “75% of our monetary gains came from sales, but a few years later it came from touring,” with Octave One becoming a fully formed live group. “I was supposed to play live by myself,” Lenny told Musicradar about the origins of the live set, “ and Lawrence would DJ his set right before I was supposed to hit the stage. I had his mixing console and all of his gear in front of me and was trying to do everything myself when Lawrence jumped on stage.”

Octave One, the live show, was born and soon it would also be immortalised in Techno lore thanks to their inclusion in Jeff Mills’ iconic exhibitionist mix and video series. From that Octave One set on a new trajectory as one of the most sought after live groups in electronic dance music and club culture. Their hardware-heavy set has decimated some of the best club sound systems in the world.

It all “happened organically” and as “the record label started to suffer” in the wake of the internet and everything else, they too started to “slow down being record label guys and concentrate on being performers.” As performers they’ve excelled in their field and there are few live Techno acts that can match the ferocity and experience of Octave One. “The fun part was playing the music” and while their recording efforts took a back-seat to their live performances, they still maintained a regular release schedule. In the last few years they’ve even resurrected and paid homage to a couple of their old aliases in the form Random Noise Generation and Never On Sunday respectively. 

Never On Sunday harks back to the early nineties, but as an album you can’t help being reminded of Black Water, with vocals from Karina Mia all over this thing and emphatic melodies and loud-like textures coming together in accessible, radio-friendly tracks. 

Softening the more functional edges of their live show, the record favours a more varied sound, but retains that elusive soul that remains the core appeal of Detroit Techno to this day.  “Thousands of people still want to experience Detroit techno that was born from the struggle of our lives,” the artists explained in that piece for Electronic Beats, and today more than ever, “from that, inspiration can be born.” Be inspired.

Premiere: Phill Prince – Lost The Key (Det Gode Selskab records)

We get a sneak preview of the up and coming V/A compilation series from Det Gode Selskab while we talk to DGS and Phill prince about the origins of the track and more.

Groovy, melodic, minimal and uplifting springs to mind when you put Phill Prince’s Lost the Key on for the first time. It’s the same words I would and have used to describe Det Gode Selskab Records, the label facilitating this release from the Italian courtesy of four part V/A compilation series coming out this fall.

Phill Prince is a leading light in the Italian underground as the mastermind behind Milan’s PLGRN party set. He is a DJ, producer and promoter and shares many of those core values of the Det Gode Selskab.  With a few invitations back and forth, including a visit to Jaeger’s basement this Saturday, they have found kindred spirits in each other.

Lost the Key cements the friendship as bongos rally around a bouncing bass arrangement and breezy keys; an ode to the end of summer and happy memories from nightlifes mishaps. There’s a serendipity in the title that I’d leave the artist and the label to explain, which re-enforces that sonic bridge between Phill Prince’s music and Det Gode Selskab’s sonic identity.

Lost the Key is a party-starter, its infectious rhythms and stark sonics only has designs intended for the dance floor. We talk to Phill Prince and then Det Gode Selskab about this new track, the upcoming compilation series and the next DGS at Jaeger while you get the exclusive preview.

Interview with Phill Prince

Hey Phill. First off, give us a little background info on you and PLGRN?

My musical journey started at a very young age when I fell in love with the drums. As a kid, I couldn’t resist the allure of electronic music, and that fascination grew over the years.

I began performing in local clubs when I was just 15. I established myself as a DJ, and my sets covered a range of genres, from house to techno. I guess my family’s deep-rooted passion for the disco tunes of the 80s and 90s played a significant role in shaping my musical taste.

My journey into music production began during my time spent in clubs near Venice. I enrolled in specialized training courses for music producers across Italy. There, I started crafting my groove and percussive rhythms using analog machines and MIDI modulation.

With the release of several productions on different labels I’ve been fortunate enough to have my productions supported by several international artists like Jamie Jones, Marco Carola, Jaden Thompson, Rich NxT, East and Dubs, Rossi, and many others. I’ve also had the privilege of performing at renowned venues like  E1 London, After Caposile ,Goya Madrid, Destino Ibiza,Liquid Room Edinburgh, Storgata26 Oslo, Studio69 Berlin, Taboo Paris, Altavoz Venice, The Bus Barcellona, Musica Riccione, Super Club Milano, Apollo Club, to name a few…

Established in February with my partners Jacopo and Pietro, Pellegrino has emerged as a vibrant hub within the Milanese nightlife scene, dedicated to cultivating the unique musical expressions of its DJs, distinguishing them from the typical genres often presented at various events. Milan’s Apollo and Super Club played a key role in bringing this concept to life, dedicating a specific space within the nightlife scene to this format. This support led Pellegrino to obtain a monthly residency at the club, where he introduced a musical direction focused on Minimal, Techhouse and Microhouse genres in the heart of the city.

With Pellegrino, our goal has been to turn the clubbing scene into a musical sanctuary for Milan’s nightlife lovers, a destination where they can relax and enjoy themselves after a busy week, a chance to hear new artist profiles. It became the music destination the city craved. We brought a fresh, original and distinctive idea with a shared musical purpose that resonated with our participants. Our continued support and enthusiasm further fuelled our determination to continue with the project, even after the challenges posed by the closures and prolonged suspension of nightlife due to covid.

How did you find the guys at DGS and what drew to their sound and vibes originally?

Expanding our boundaries has always been a goal of ours and to do this we need to build a community around formats that have similar interests and a musical identity that matches ours.

We started looking for profiles that were interested in this kind of project and shared these ideals, and fortunately we managed to get in touch with the guys from DGS. Their profile was already known to us for several releases on their Power House label that our DJs often support in their selections. 

This aspect, together with the magnificent human side of the creators, led to this magnificent connection and constant showcases between Italy and Norway.

Tell us about how you made Lost the Key?


The composition of ‘Lost the Key’ can be considered as a fusion of both analog and digital elements. This project originated within the studio environment, where we embarked on the exploration of various drum patterns characterized by their distinct freshness and a pronounced techy influence. These explorations were complemented by the incorporation of closed and open-hat sequences, firmly rooted in a classic house style.

The melodic dimension of the piece was meticulously crafted through the modulation of a synthesizer sample sourced directly from the Yamaha Rm1x. This process imbued the composition with an ethereal quality, lending it a constant and deep tonal foundation.

Further enriching the sonic landscape, the central sound was developed using a Roland TB-3, creating a lead acid element that steadily evolves until the track’s reset. This dynamic transformation maintains a consistent energy throughout the composition, evoking associations with a ‘dance floor’ siren, thus encompassing a spectrum of moods that transition seamlessly from deep house to more electro-inspired moments.

The overall structure is characterized by a series of fluid and invigorating grooves, imbuing the composition with a sense of freshness that harmonizes seamlessly within the final mix.


What’s the story behind the title of that track?

Often, the titles I assign to my records are intricately linked to genuine, tangible experiences. In this particular instance, I found myself within the confines of my studio, engrossed in the process of crafting a central melody revolving around a foundation of meticulously constructed kicks and percussion.

As time passed, it became evident that the hour was growing late, and the moment had arrived for me to conclude my work and head home. However, a sense of unease began to grip me as I realized that my keys were nowhere to be found. The ensuing search for these elusive keys proved to be a nerve-wracking ordeal, as I grappled with the mounting doubt and frustration that came with each passing moment.

In a moment of uncertainty, I gravitate back towards my analog machines. In the process of experimentation, a profound connection emerged between the ‘siren’ I had meticulously crafted, the intricate interplay of the drums, and the ethereal pad. It was within this creative juncture that the composition began to take shape and evolve.


What is it about your sounds as an artist that you feel worked well with the sound of the label?

My sound is currently honing in on a distinctive style that spans from minimal to powerful house, affording me the versatility to explore various creative avenues. In this instance, I identified a harmonious connection between my own musical approach and Dgs’ direction. This record, in my perspective, reflects several facets of the house genre that align with the neo-90s vibe of the Norwegian label. Nevertheless, it retains a notably minimal groove that harmonizes with my broader body of work.

How does the track reflect your sound as a DJ?

I aim to craft something vibrant, drawing inspiration from the 90s house sound while maintaining the tempo of today’s minimal-deep tech trend. It’s a dynamic interplay between pad and lead elements, engaging the audience and keeping them on the dance floor. That’s what I strive to create and simulate for the audience – an electrifying energy

Give us a glimpse into your record bag for this upcoming event at Jaeger. 

I have a selection of diverse records at my disposal, but my exploration is an ongoing evolution. My musical focus leans towards a raw house sound, occasionally delving into Romanian minimal influences, while consistently incorporating elements of electro and tribal rhythms.

From labels like Rawax to Kann Records, and including Terry Francis’s latest EP on Hallucienda, along with exclusive previews of my forthcoming releases in the coming months, some of which are recent unreleased creations – all of these elements contribute to the musical journey I aim to craft.

Interview with Det Gode Selskab 

Hey DGS. How did you first hear of Phill Prince and PLGRN?

Det Gode Selskab and PLGRN made their first acquaintance in April, when they invited Tod Louie to play at Super Club in Milano. High five to keepitgoing. for connecting us.

We decided to keep collaborating, and we invited the crew to Oslo at the end of May at Prindsens Hage where we did an outdoor garden party in the middle of the city.

Where does DGS and PLGRN crossover in terms of sound for you?

In many ways the people behind PLGRN and the DGS crew share similar passion and values for the underground club scene. They put their whole heart and love into what they do, and it’s very contagious and loving.

They have high standards, confidence and big hearts which, for us is very important in this scene to keep it healthy and progressive. So all of this made it all very natural to continue developing our Milano – Oslo partnership.

We also see ourselves steering more into the direction of collaborating with labels and concepts rather than booking highliners for Det Gode Selskab nights. That kind of collaboration is what feels right for us.

What attracted you to Phill Prince’s sound as an artist and why did you want him for this compilation?

His sense of grooves and the way he works his music as a DJ and producer. He gives a lot behind the DJ booth and his transitions and build ups are very charismatic and captivating. He is a super DJ and when were introduced to his music we saw a lot of quality that  has a natural place with our label.

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Tell us what you first felt when you heard Lost the Key.

Upon first listening to “Lost the Key” by Phill Prince, I was instantly transported back to ADE 2022, a memory etched with the comical misadventure of Karl Fraunhofer misplacing our apartment key, which eventually found its way into the Amsterdam waters on a Monday morning at the docks. A chaotic moment, though it ultimately concluded on a positive note. Despite the unexpected acrobatics involving scaffolding around our residence, the tale culminated with the locksmith’s timely arrival to restore access.

It’s minimal, groovy and there’s that functionalism there that we all associate with DGS. How does it differ and expand otherwise from the classic DGS sound for you?

It gives some of the same qualities, percussions and sound that Luciano’s Cadenza label has offered us as DJ’s throughout the years. That “terrace” Ibiza-sounds from 2012-2018. It’s a sound that historically has been part of many of our events throughout the year. It works very well!

What does this reflect the rest of the compilation?

Our compilation invites the sound of our collective of artists and new and old friends and acquaintances that we meet as a label, DJs and event series. It encompasses the sound of our label and our extended network and is usually not very genre specific but obviously revolved around the groovier sides of dancefloor music; consisting of house, italo house, tech-house, minimal, techno, breaks and drum & bass.

Tell us a bit about what you expect from the upcoming night with Phill.

He will take the lead for the last two hours of the night, and what to be expected is some serious groove and passion behind the booth. He has a unique style and ability to create forceful transitions that invite a full and playful dance floor.

Memories of summer with Of Norway

Of Norway talk about their new album, their working process, some secret aliases and a very special live show that will follow their official release party at Jaeger.

It’s hard to define the appeal of Norwegian electronic music. It’s a melodic contingent; a love of vintage synthesisers and drum-machines; an eclectic musical history; and a brooding melancholy that’s as sweet as it is foreboding. At the best of times it’s only a couple of those things that distinguish Norway’ s artists, but for one group it’s all of those things and that’s why Of Norway live up to their name. 

Their latest album stands testament to that. Smeigedag is no exercise in restraint either as Chris Lynch and and Vegard “lil” Wolf Dyvik tap into their shared history together to construct a forlorn ode to summer. Melodies dissociate in that familiar happy melancholy that doesn’t strain the patience, while progressive rhythms tap into some ancient ritualistic pulse. The racks go from the euphoric House exaltations of “Love” to the moody ambient embrace of “Second coming,” with melody and texture remaining at the forefront of their work. 

It’s instantly familiar, not merely for its Norwegian connotations, but as a consistent thread between this latest and Of Norway’s previous records like “Accretion” and “The Loneliest Man in space.” The latter had been our last contact with the group before the pandemic (even though we learn that they’ve released another record since), and from that album’s electro-leaning affiliations to this latest record, the core of the group’s sonic signature has remained unchanged even as they drift into different musical regions.

After four albums and a host of EPs, Of Norway Chris and Vegrad haven’t evolved the sound as much as they’ve cemented it. They’ve enjoyed a healthy and productive relationship with Connaisseur records, releasing all their albums on that Offenbach-based outlet while releasing EPs and singles for the likes of Darkroom Dubs, Bedrock and Do not sit on the furniture. Oddly for a group called Of Norway, their music has been more successful outside of Norway even though Vegard and Chris have been fixtures in Oslo’s scene through institutions like iconoclastic and Kill your Ego. 

As DJs Chris and Vegard continue to play around town and abroad on occasion, and as artists we’ve come to expect a regular release from Of Norway. Their history with electronic music in the scene goes back to the early 2000’s and there’s more to Of Norway than meets the eye, including a couple of secret aliases. This amongst other things piques our interest around Of Norway, and ahead of the official release of the album, we reach out to the group with some questions.

As the duo prepares for the official release party at Jaeger, we call Vegard and Chris to find they are currently working on a very special live show, and Chris’ phone is buzzing with guestlist requests… 

 

Where are you at the moment?

Chris Lynch: We’re in the studio, working on the live set. We’ve just got booked to play Berghain so we’re a bit nervous. 

O wow. That’s big news. Is this due to Smeigedag and is the live show going to be largely based around the new album?

Chris:  Yes, it is. Andy Baumecker (Berghain resident and booker) really liked the promo that he got and he got in touch with us asking: “do you want to play the album plus other recent things that we made.” 

Vegard “lil” Wolf Dyvik: There might be some older things, but it’s mostly the newer stuff.

Chris: It’s a slightly different sound to our earlier albums. It’s a little more dance floor…

Vegard: Is it?

Chris: Yes it is, if you compare it to the Accretion album. It’s a little more club friendly. 

When you have something like Berghain coming up, do you take that context into consideration when preparing your live set or do you present the songs pretty much as they are from the album?

Vegard: I think we’re pretty true to our album. We don’t change our sound for clubs anywhere. 

Chris: It’s more about the sequencing or the tracks we choose to play. If we play an open air space, you can play the more trancy stuff, or if we play a basement it’s more bass-heavy. If we have 20 tracks in a live set, we’ll only play 6 or 8 of them. 

Vegard: The difference is we are preparing a lot of tracks and we have a system so we can just jump to any track we want. Which means, like a DJ, we don’t have to play our tracks in sequence. We won’t change the way the tracks sound.


And you are able to react to the audience as well, since you have twenty odd songs at your disposal?

Chris: Yes, and you can take the bassline of one track and put it into another song. Like if you were a DJ and you had like a hundred stems that you could just put in wherever. We’re not getting booked to play large stages, we’re still in the small clubs, so it makes sense to play something that fits in there. 

Vegard: Also when we used to take a guitarist/ bass player with us, it was more like a concert and people would just stand and look at us. We want people to have a fun experience dancing, presenting our own music. 

Chris: If there’s too much shit going on people are just standing, and you get a lot of guys scratching their beards. 

Ok, we should probably talk about the reason for this interview; Smeigedag. It’s the first record in a couple of years for you and it seems like there are some disparities with this record and the Loneliest man in Space, which to me was more electro-leaning while this one is more straight…

Chris: Yes it’s more House-y. We don’t really plan stuff, it just happens. 

Vegard: It’s kind of a corona-thing. A lot of the sketches were made during corona.

Chris: We just missed going out. We actually made another album between those two, which was made during covid. It was called the Soft Apocalypse, and it was more dark and ambient. It was a darker record and this one is a lighter record.

Vegard: We made most of it during summer. 

Chris: I remember the label said; “ah you really missed summer,” didn’t you? It really came around quickly, around July.

Of this year? That’s a quick turnover. 

Chris: Yes, I think it started out in May and we were done by the end of June. 

Vegard: We have a very close relationship with Connaisseur. We sent a couple of tracks to Alex (Fitsch) and said; “maybe this could work as an EP.” And he was like; “actually maybe this could work as an album.”

Chris: So we thought; “guess we have to make some more music.”

Vegard: Whenever we make an album, with the exception of Accretion, which took ages, it’s two or three weeks and then we have most of it down. 

Chris: That first album took absolute ages. We didn’t know what we were doing, it was years ago. We were maybe overthinking it. 

Vegard: And now we have hundreds of sketches. Whenever we start a track, we just go through the library.

What is your working process like?

Chris: We get together twice a week religiously. We meet up at 18:00 every Tuesday and Wednesday and work till 21:00-ish. It’s almost like going to soccer practice, but it’s a lot more fun. 

That’s disciplined. At what point do you realise a track is done and when do you recognise that they’ll work together on an album like Smeigedag?

Vegard: Well, we only release albums via Connaisseur. The label helps out with what goes on the album, to be honest. 

Chris: Basically, we have a private folder on soundcloud and stuff everything in there. We do the first selection and then we send it to the label. Connaisseur is more like an old-school label in the way they are involved in everything from the sequence of the tracks to the length of them. New labels don’t invest so much time in it. It suits us well. 

How many songs did you deliver for the label on this occasion?

Chris: This time we actually didn’t deliver enough. We actually had to make another one. 

Vegard: There were a couple of tracks they didn’t want. 

Chris: It started off as an EP with three or four tracks, and they asked to make it an album, and now it’s a mini-album. I still call it an album but the label calls it a mini-album. 

Did you guys have an idea in terms of sound when you were still working on it as an EP, or was it just that it coalesced around a sound because you happened to be working on all the tracks in the same kind of timeframe?

Chris: I think it’s mostly the timeframe. 

Vegard: When we planned it as an EP, we took three of the finished songs, because we thought they might fit together. It was more like we had some tracks that fit together and not that we went for a sound. 

Chris: It’s hard to go for a sound. 

Vegard: We don’t know what we want to do. 

Chris: Sometimes these tracks are in their sixth or seventh version and the starting point is something completely different. 

What ties it all together for you on this album? 

Chris: Euphoric warmth, with a classic Norwegian underlying melancholy which has a dark depressing edge in there.

Vegard: Some of the sketches in there were from when I lost my cat. 

Chris: We have another EP coming out on Bedrock (John Digweed’s label) and they are basically homages to Vegard’s cat. 

Were you influenced by any tangible thing at the time, except the fact that Vegard’s cat died?

Vegard: When I started the sketches I wanted everything to be melancholic and warm. For Christmas one year, I got digitised video tapes from when I was little. 

Chris: Me as well.

Vegard: So on the cover of the album, the two little kids, that’s me and Chris. 

Chris: All the canvas videos on Spotify, all that stuff is from our own home movies from the late 70’s early 80’s. 

Vegard: That kind of inspired me. 

Chris: The fuzziness and graininess of the video and the way the sun bleeds into the photograph.

Vegard: You know, when life was good. (laughs)

Chris: You know The Doors track, Summer is almost gone. Not specifically the track, but the feeling. 

What’s interesting is that when I first listened to the record I immediately had this sense of haziness that you talk about, like an old polaroid captured in sound. But I didn’t have the words to describe it until you just said it now. 

Chris: Yes, we actually managed to find it now while talking to you. It all hangs together, from the video to the press photos and the cover and the sound, it’s quite cohesive. We’ve managed to get hold of some thirty summer postcards from the 70’s and they are going to be in the limited edition vinyl album. 

Vegard:  A summer greeting from us. 

Have you guys known each other for that long?

Chris: We’ve only known  each other since the early 2000’s and we started making music together since 2006. I did a radio show at Radio Tellus back in the days, and Vegard was there playing some times. We were both DJs and knew each other through that. Oslo was quite small and the DJ scene was quite small back then. 

And then you played together at iconoclastic?

Chris: Yes I started playing with Deadswan and then Vegard joined us later, We were a trio for some years. So, we’ve been doing different projects together, but the Of Norway project has almost always been House-based music. 

Vegard: It’s always been quite emotional. 

I was listening to one of our early records, Karpathian Thirst in preparation for this interview, and that Of Norway mood is there from the start. Then again, do you feel your music has evolved?

Chris: Definitely. I can’t really say how, it  just has.

Vegard: I think, we’ve been doing this so long now, and we’ve been through so many different things, that we have so many reference points that we can put this together. 

Chris: Something that’s nice about getting older, is that you can step back and see the big picture. When you’re young and get into something like minimal Techno, then everything is about that and you can’t judge anything else, because you think everything else is shit. Like we like to say in Norway, you’ve got to get out of the duck pond. You get more oversight.

I remember iconoclastic happening around the same time you started Of Norway. It was at the end of the electroclash era, so there was still this melting pot of various genres and styles…

Chris: It was the end of electroclash and the beginning of the blog-house scene. It was very eclectic, so you took stuff from all over the musical map and popped it in there. 

Vegard: It was very energetic and rough.

Chris: And Punky in a way. 

Exactly and when I first heard of Norway it didn’t sound like the offspring of any of that, but something completely different again. 

Chris: That was just one of many things. At that time we both lived as DJs. I played indie music, and I played Drum n Bass at Kill your Ego and Sykemekanico. I also played old-school Hip Hop.

Vegard: I was more into US-House and Garage. 

Chris: I realise it’s quite confusing, because we’ve always had the same DJ names and you never know what you’re going to get. Musically we’ve been all over the place. I think reference-wise, we can be influenced by absolutely everything; even a sound in a Nick Cave record.

Do all these eclectic influences feed into this one project?

Vegard: We’ve grown a bit wiser now, so we’ve chosen some monikers. 

Chris: We do produce music under different names, so we have three names that we release music under. 

What are the other two? 

Chris: They’re both secrets. One of them has released a lot of music. Now it’s easier, if something sounds like Of Norway, we’ll just continue as Of Norway. We enjoy being secretive, because we’re men in our mid forties, and if people knew that they probably wouldn’t sign us. 

Tell me about your relationship with the label Connaisseur and how that started.

Chris: Vegard had the first contact with Connaisseur.

Vegard: It was a very long time ago. I don’t remember how we got in touch, maybe Myspace. I know why they signed us. It was because we were called Of Norway, and we looked like a black metal band. 

Chris: Our press photos were in black and white and high-contrast, and we had this hand drawn necro logo. It was completely different from what you hear musically and that caught their interest. 

Vegard: The tracks had titles  like Karpatian Thirst.

Chris: Yeah, they were all metal names. After that, we were included on the compilation, and we thought that’s it. Then they invited us to play a place called Bar 25 in Berlin, which was this hedonistic, legendary club in Berlin. After that the ball started rolling with Connaisseur and they signed more and more stuff. 

Vegard: They are also friends now. We even made a track for his (Alex) daughter. 

Chris: Song for Eva is dedicated to his daughter. All proceedings go to her educational fund.

I assume they were based in Offenbach back then. How did you hear about Connaisseur recording in the first place?

Vegard: I had some records from them.

Chris: They had a massive hit, years ago with Patrick Chardronnet called “Eve by Day.” Soundwise, we’ve never sounded like anything else on the label. 

Vegard: We’ve never sounded like anything on any of the labels we’re signed with.

Chris:  Everytime we get signed to a label, we think; “why the hell did you sign us?” (both laugh) We don’t fit in anywhere. 

Vegard: So therefore we fit in everywhere. 

That’s a testament to your music. It can reach a large audience. Do you feel that your music translates better outside Norway than in Norway?

Chris: There’s no reason for it, but I definitely think so. It’s definitely Germany and the US that are the biggest territories for us. We’ve had a few releases on an American label called Do not sit on the furniture.

Vegard: I think it’s because we’re not so actively part of the Norwegian scene as DJs anymore. 

Chris: It’s not been on purpose, it’s just happened. 

After this record and the gig in berghain, what else is on the horizon for Of Norway?

Chris: We’re releasing a record for Darkroom dubs. We’ve got some stuff on Bedrock. We have something on a label called Sum over histories (Frankey and Sandrino). Otherwise on the DJing and live side, we were unfortunate after corona, and lost our agent. We’re free agents so we’re not getting many gigs at the moment. 

Hopefully having Berghain on the CV will help, hopefully…

 

Words: Mischa Mathys

Oslo World lineup and tickets announced

Jaeger is back on the Oslo World programme for 2023 with an extensive lineup across four days as we help the Oslo institution celebrate 30 years.

30 years is a long time and we’re proud to be a part of that tradition for as long as we care to remember. The world descends on Oslo for a music festival celebrating the sonic bedrock from the four corners of the world every year and 2023 will be no different. From right here in Norway, to India, to Lebanon, to Ukraine, and via Berlin we cover the furthest reaches of global music for one week in the year as Oslo World arrives at Jaeger. From the esoteric to the exotic, in the universal language of electronic music, Jaeger celebrates the extensive sounds of the world over two dance floors with appearances from Nefertiti, Dara Woo, Gela, Nur Jabber, Soju Princess, Olga Korol, Sous Vide, Suchi, Det Gode Selskab and a host of Jaeger residents and friends. We kick off on the 1st of November.

Programme schedule:

01.11 Oslo World: Nefertiti + Dara Woo + Gela
02.11 – Helt Texas: Nur Jaber + Soju Princess
03.11 – Frædag x Sous Vide: Olga Korol +  Per Hammar + Thomas Skjaerstad
04.11 – Nightflight x Det Gode Selskab: Suchi  

Tickets are now available at ticketco with more tickets available on the door on the night. Watch this space for further information coming soon.

Obsessing with with Sommerfeldt

Marius Sommerfeldt is back. The other half of De Fantastike To is releasing records again under the eponymous Sommerfeldt with a couple of notable releases in the last year. While he’s remained a fixture in Oslo’s DJ booths throughout, most notably as a member of the UK-leaning Løkka FM collective, his output from the studio has been limited until 2022 “Colours” on Paper Recordings and reinforced by the most recent “Tell me What to do” via Vinny Villbass’ label, Badabing. 

“Tell me What to do” sees him working with Løkka FM colleague, Toshybot (legs 11) in a signature Norwegian House aesthetic bridging worlds between US House, UK Garage and Space Disco. Toshybot’s baritone rides ebullient synthesisers, bubbling in the lower regions crisscrossing the trellis-like percussive section. 

Last year’s “Colours “ saw him rely on the same formula with vocals supplied by Sigmund Floyd on this occasion. Textures evoked a dreamy soundscape through a dazzling haze of synthesisers that seemed to arrive on a milky cloud. 

There are obvious similarities between his and Mikkel Haraldstad’s 2010 breakout track “Neste Stopp Morra Di” in as much as it maintains that infectious “Norwegian House” formula, but it’s updated for a modern dance floor. Besides a change of name and a new palette of sounds, Sommerfeldt carries the same spirit in his music and finds the artist refining his sound in collaborating with other artists yet again. 

What is it about these collaborations that bring out the best in Sommerfeldt and what does this new era in music define for the Norwegian artist? We sent over some questions to Marius via email to find out more as he prepares for his upcoming visit to Jaeger for Olle Abstract’s LYD

Is it fair to say that you were on a musical hiatus as an artist for a while, and what were some of the determining factors for that break?

That is fair to say. And truth to be told, the break was all about finding my own sound as an artist. I’ve been working with people in groups most of my career, so I spent some time searching for inspiration and developing my own sound.

What is the current status of De Fantastike To?

It’s currently on hold, but we might go back in the studio again. We’ve been talking about it, but I guess that life just happened for both of us.

And what eventually brought you back to making new music as a solo artist?

The never-ending fascination of making music. I have so much music in my head that needs to come out! It’s kind of an obsession, really. Fine-tuning a kickdrum or adding some reverb on a synthline is meditative.

How do you feel your solo stuff differs from DFT’s work?

There is a slightly more jazzy aspect in DFT’s productions. A good combination of Rave-Enka and Sommerfeldt in there, I would say.

In between you were still DJing and it seemed most of your efforts were concerned with the Løkka FM project. How did you arrive in that collective and what was it about the UK sound specifically resonated with you?

We were just four people having a strong relationship towards british club-music. We met over a couple of beers and started talking about the lack of a proper UKG night in Oslo. Needles to say, we did something about it! I mean, UK did the American house-sound, but on steroids…

What’s not to like?

How has it informed your work beyond the DJ booth and in the studio?

I’m producing house, but with a pretty huge amount of swing in basically everything. I even did a upcoming remix for Center Of The Universe and Nikki Oniyome, which is pretty similar to garage 

One of the people that was involved there with you, Toshybot, also makes an appearance on your latest Badabing record. And this is not the first time you’ve both worked in the studio together. What planted the seed for this creative collaboration, and besides adding vocals to your tracks, how has he influenced your work?

We have been friends for a long time, and music-wise he introduced me to stuff I haven’t heard before. It’s just a joy to work with him, and our studio-sessions are so much fun!

On your 2022 record Colours, for Paper Recordings you also featured a couple of vocalists in the form of Sigmund Floyd and Nora. What is it about the vocal craft that draws you to singers in your music?

I love working with vocals! It’s even more complicated in terms of leaving room and space for a vocalist in a track. I mean, vocals can be at times horrible in a club-track, but when done correctly it just makes sense, right?

What do you look for in a vocalist?

Some edge, a roughness, soul, I mean the voice goes deeper than just singing the right notes! I usually leave some happy accidents in there from the sessions. Sigmund did a first take on our latest release, and he did miss slightly in a part towards the end, we were just.

Nah.. fuck it!

At what point does the vocalist enter into your creative process and how much input do you have in the writing process including the lyrics?

It differs, I usually do the sketch of an instrumental and send the rough demo. Then we do maybe a rec session or two while I finish the production, constantly sending the vocalist new versions for approval.

You worked with Sigmund Floyd (Palace of Pleasure) who is also in Legs 11 with Toshybot.  What is your relationship with that crowd and are there any plans to work more with the people behind those two groups?

Yeah. They are my friends. I love those guys! We used to share studio as well…

I’ve never played in a band before, so we might form Legs 12? A collab would be really cool!

They are very much in that indie electronic pop world, while your work very much lives in the House music circles. Where is the crossover between these two worlds for you?

I like independent music! Both genres usually work with synths, drum-machines combined with organic instruments. It feels playful and live.

What first got you interested in House music and how has it developed to this point?

My brother’s cd-collection and Olle Abstract on P3 as an early teenager. I mean House-music? It was out of this world right? Made by machines, computers and stuff, it was like a one-man band. Needles to say, I absolutely loved it!

Your sound on a record like Tell me What to at times flirts with that Norwegian nu-disco aesthetic. It’s very ethereal at times, with dubby rhythms and charming arpeggios floating through the record. What kind of influence has that Oslo scene played in your own development as an artist if any?

I guess I try to produce house, but I don’t like that way too formulaic stuff, so I just throw in a lot of my influences to make it interesting for myself and hopefully, the listener. I guess I’m a product of the DJ / Oslo scene in that way. We usually have to include different genres, tempos and styles,otherwise me, and the crowd get bored.

What do you consider the effects of people like Lindstrøm, Prins Thomas and Todd Terje on the artists that came after them, artists like yourself?

They paved the way for a quirky more leftfield Norwegian approach to club-music. DIY stuff, I mean it’s a hard country to break trough, producing underground electronica. They just did it by themselves. That still inspires me!

What have you taken from that scene that came before you into the music that you are making today, and how have you made it your own in your opinion?

It has always been a huge inspiration as the early generation paved the way for disco, house and techno in a country which is ultimately pretty remote. Prins Thomas was even the first person who signed us as the now defunct  Sommerstad (together with Mikkel Rev) That helped me alot in terms of my career and also the way I work with and hear music.

After a few singles/EPs over the last two years, what’s next for Marius Sommerfeldt and what is the ultimate goal for you when it comes to making music?

First of all, this is what I want to do. I had other jobs in my life, but music is my passion. I keep getting better, and I’m slowly taking my studio-setup to the live-stage. I’m testing the setup abroad in Lisboa this September.

I want to record an album, hopefully at my cabin this autumn with Sigmund Floyd.

I’m also releasing a new EP, a remix and some more tracks as Sommerbad (me and Boblebad) and also on Full Pupp as Cocktail Sport (with From Beyond and Boblebad) So to summarize it: make tracks, DJ, travel,  play live and generally have a good time doing it!





The Need for Music with Simon Field

We sat down with Simon Field during Øya week to talk about his debut LP, Need No Music and his journey to this moment. He celebrates the album release at Jaeger this Friday.

It’s taken Simon Field 10 years to produce his debut album. At 53 years of age, it might be assumed he left it pretty late, but stretching  behind this watershed moment, is a vast experience that covers a very large spectrum of  the music business. 

A song-writer, composer, producer and lyricist, Simon’s accolades span the length and breadth of the music industry and yet you’d be hard pressed to find his name anywhere. An artist working in the shadows, he’s penned and produced music for the majority of his life, and while you probably haven’t heard of him, it’s likely that you have heard his music before. He’s created music for film, written pop-songs, played at esteemed venues like Ministry of Sound, and worked with some of the best in our scene yet for the most part he’s feigned the recognition in favour of the creative endeavour.

10 years ago he made the leap to solo artist releasing his first House-infused records, mostly  via Perfect Havoc on Spotify, culminating in a lengthy discography that has garnered millions of streams and half a million monthly listeners. Tracks like “Shake the tree”  have made him a household name in regions as far afield as Mexico –  a tour on the horizon there – while remixes for the likes of Kelis and Nina Simone have bridged the divide between the accessible and functional in Simon’s music.

His music is supported by most house music veterans from David Guetta, Oliver Heldens, Mark Knight, Chris Lake, Claptone, Dombresky, Freejak, Benny Benassi, Majestic and many more.

His debut album, No Need Music, arrives filling the gaps more effectively between these two worlds. With a foot in two worlds, Simon Field is both an accomplished recording artist and a DJ, and in his  efforts to consolidate these two aspects of his artistic identity he has created an album that pushed his sound closer to the dance floor. Tracks, specifically “made for the club moment in mind,” and an ambient finale bear the fruits of this labour. 

We meet in the middle of Øya week with the dominant pulse of a kick drum playing staccato thuds in the background. The Bergen born, Oslo native has been indulging in the music in Tøyen park and beyond, but he’s perky and perched on the edge of his chair. Never taking himself too seriously, he interjects often with a stifling laugh and while he he stops short at name-dropping he is eager to broach any musical subject and very excited to talk about his new LP:

“They are all club tracks, besides one beautiful ambient” piece that concludes the LP.  “Last summer I did so many cool festival gigs, and I decided that I want to do new original material at every gig,” explains Simon for context. He set himself a goal: “alright I’m doing ten gigs, let’s do ten new songs.“ Each track was specifically created to suit a moment at each gig, with factors like previous DJ and moment in time taken into consideration and the result is a 12-track LP that covers a wide range of situations. 

 

Even the finale and the only beat-less indulgence on the record, Es Vedrá was a conscious effort to “reset the room” in the knowledge that the previous DJ would drop him off at the region of 136 beats per minute. The track’s dominating synth swells through the air while a “persian” vocal flutters sporadically in what Simon describes “as one of the best tracks I’ve ever written.” It’s the only introspective departure from an album that is firmly rooted in the predetermined foundations of House with little more than one breakdown per track diverging from the obstinate rhythms. Percussion and bass dominates, in unceasing movement with even the ever-present vocals moving through the tracks in stochastic “ahhs” and “oohs”. Listening to track like “Gack Gack” where there’s so much emphasis on the lower frequencies, I’m not surprised to find it is in fact in the bass where Simon’s musical roots took hold. 

Born in Bergen his musical education was passed down from an older sibling. “Growing up my brother listened to Earth Wind and Fire, so my first music was Funk and Soul, and that’s been with me forever.” Those sounds awoke an appreciation for the bass guitar and “the first thing I wanted to do when I picked up the bass was learn how to slap.” 

Learn to slap, he did, and it went much further than that, as Simon set his sights on that precursor for Funk and Soul, Jazz. When he moved to Scotland for school, he took evening courses at a Ronnie Scott tutorial programme while studying towards a degree in Science management. “I spent four years figuring out what I don’t want to do with my life, ” laughs Simon. “By the end of the study I was doing more gigs than being in school,” and an interest flourished whereby he “just leaned into every bit of literature and videos I could find.”

Returning home to Bergen he started playing in “several bands,” most of who modelled their sound on the likes of Donald Fagen. “We all wanted to be doing Steely Dan,” he remembers, playing “as many chords as possible” which would later prove to be an important aspect of his writing skills especially as he started producing House music. 

“I can actually put that into my music and it’s beautiful when working with singers,”  he insists. In House music’s pretty conservative constructions where there’s little room for the kind of thematic movement that is usually associated with the likes of Fagen, this adds a dimension to Simon Field’s music that sets him a little apart from the status quo and perhaps part of his international appeal. This harmonic intervention on the part of the artist helps humanise this stark machine music. It often also sits alongside Latin rhythms, a familiar trope in House music and something that is close to his heart, as the determining factor from which all Simon’s groove is distilled.

“Everything I do in music is played with that (latin) quantising,” expresses Simon. It’s been a feature of his music in all forms for as long as he played bass, and he feels that it’s “fundamental to every music genre” and the source to all music. “You get into this groove and your job is to get those asses to move.”

Getting those asses to move on his debut album, he calls on his extensive experience working on a myriad of music from Country to Hip-hop. It has taken him to places like LA, where he’s written and produced songs for prominent artists and producers that he is not able to mention by name. It was during these surreptitious musical activities that he would start developing a sound forged in electronic music. “While I was doing all that other stuff, I started programming to make the writing more clear for the people I played with.” He had a “huge love for synthesisers” from his band days in Bergen when he started switching out his bass guitar for synthesisers – “the band didn’t always like that” (laughs) – and “started collecting synthesisers and making music” based around those electronic instruments. 

“My publisher said you can send off stuff to films, so I started sending off portishead-like songs that I thought no-one wanted.” People did wanted them nonetheless. It wasn’t his first foray into music for tv. Back in his band days, his group Elle Melle contributed the title theme to TV2 Frokost TV, but this time his music would find an international audience through placements in series like Calfornication. “A lot of music for Californication which is a Funk-House kind of blend” and “that really kicked it off.” Funk being much of the predecessor to House “definitely” bridged a gap between Simon’s work as a bassist/composer and House music, but House had not been an unknown entity either.  It was “there all the time” but it had been a kind of “party music” until one point ten years ago, when things started to click in place for Simon. 

In a pitch for something that would most likely be assigned to another artist on disco:wax the label said: “we could release this as it is and you could be the artist”. That track was, “The music is you” and it “totally switched everything” for Simon who dropped everything else for a more singular pursuit. ”I just said ‘no’ to anything other than House music from that point.” 

A decade later with an extensive discography behind his back, Simon is confident he made the right decision. “I’ve done this project for ten years now and listening back to my first demos and first releases, that’s coming full circle now.” The essence of what he created in the beginning with a track like “The Music is you” is still there in “Need No Music” with Simon’s rhythmical foundations and his insistence for vocals remaining central to his work. 

On the album the vocals often favour a more abstract approach, but Simon’s presence of mind in his musical pursuits is still there. “I’ve been trying to get to this place all along,” he suggests. ”All these people putting money into your music, are saying you should do this or this” he dismisses today, blowing a raspberry as he says it and it’s paid off in his favour. His music has featured on the likes of BBC Radio 1; he’s remixed and been remixed by the likes of Todd Terry and Erick Morillo, and with  a DJ touring schedule that sees him play in the venues like Café Mambo in Ibiza he doesn’t need the validation either. 

He’s not playing as much as he was before covid – ”travelling in Europe every week at least” – but the gigs are still rolling in, and while he’s something of an unknown in Oslo, in London  his “music works really well,” especially since his home-label Perfect Havoc is located there. What started out as a hobby, just developed naturally for Simon and now he loves nothing more than to DJ. 

“Playing live has always been my favourite thing and DJing is just the same. I’m really living the music when I play.” His next DJ event will be at Jaeger to celebrate the release for the album and he’s asked Monojack, Blichteldt and old friends Tube & Berger for the occasion. “There are definitely many DJs that I have played with over the years that I would like to bring (to Jaeger), that’s why I’m so glad that Tube & Berger said yes.” 

It’s through club nights like these that Simon is looking to recontextualise his music for the next audience. “I feel like what I’ve done on Spotify, I should have made it more club from the start,” he considers for a moment before adding; “Then again, I love those songs, and they work on radio and they’ve taken me places.“ “Need no Music“ will move his audience closer to the heart of the dance floor, but as it remains destined for Spotify, he has no intention of disappointing his legion of fans; fans, including people like Erick Morillo and David Guetta and stretching as far afield as Mexico. 

 

Be A Man You Ant – 10 years of André Bratten

We go ten years back in time to the release of André Bratten’s debut album to look at the lasting legacy of Be A Man You Ant before he performs live in our basement this week

There was a time in Oslo where you couldn’t get away from André Bratten’s Trommer og Bass. It seemed to be spilling out of every DJ booth in in the city, the sheer force of the track decimating every track that had come before or after it in the same set. 

Its impact couldn’t be overstated. Even before it was released Jennifer Cardini, who had sent that track to be mastered for her Correspondant VA, quickly understood its power. “The sound was so powerful; the sound was so big,” according to Jennifer Cardini. “When we got Trommer og Bass, I wrote to him (André Bratten) and asked; ‘hey can we get a pre-mastered version, because the version you sent has a compressor and limiter on it.’ He wrote back to me saying no it hasn’t, ‘that’s the premaster actually.’” It says something about André Bratten’s mastery of the studio as an instrument, and the complete nature of his music, but that alone doesn’t count for the sheer appeal of the record. 

It was a Techno record with just enough of that Norwegian melodic nature to make it appeal to a broad audience, while finding its own lane in a scene that would soon be dominated by the draconian influence of Berlin. It could be played at a peak time House set, and be admired outside of the club context. It was a big room track with all the trappings of a dance floor hit that would reaffirm the name André Bratten in a new sphere of club music. He put the track out again on Math Ion Ilium after it appeared on the Correspondant VA in a move he thought would be “smart to do” and which offered the bridge into new sonic possibilities from his previous LP, and debut Be A Man You Ant.

Trommer og Bass took from that album’s more demanding Techno inclinations and expounded on it, but it was the striking debut that had enshrined the name André Bratten in the electronic music scene in Norway and beyond. Be A Man You Ant hit a nerve with Disco riding a tidal wave of popularity across the globe and the album quickly found its own sweet spot just ahead of the curve. 

André Bratten was not unknown by the time Be A Man You Ant saw the light of day. He had carved out a name for himself in Oslo as a member of the delphic Hubbubbaklubb with its quixotic melodies and its mechanical rhythms. As a founding member of the group, he was instrumental in the early success of Hubbubbaklubb, playing a significant role in their breakout hit Mopedbart. Most would have been content as a lynchpin in that group, but such is André Bratten’s personality, that he is always looking to explore new worlds and new sounds in music.

He had already established himself in a studio across the hall from Lindstrøm and Prins Thomas and as the younger upstart amongst these relatively older heads of the Norwegian Disco scene, Bratten set out on his debut LP, tongue firmly in cheek.

“(M)y first record sort of started over dinner with Prins Thomas.” recalls André in an interview with Deep House Amsterdam from 2015. “I was just being a little kid trying to prove myself, and we were talking about this whole space disco sound, and I was bragging like ‘Making a disco record is easy!’ so I made a disco record even though he was obviously much better at writing disco than I was.”

André Bratten might not have the same prowess as Prins Thomas, but he definitely made it his own. His mastery of the studio would prove to leave no stone unturned in his approach to music and Disco too would not be left unchallenged. “I am a technical geek,” Bratten once told Electronic Beats during an interview and this fascination with the technical aspects of music has cemented in an impressive arsenal of vintage synthesisers and machines which are often talked about in venerated and covetous tones. Using these old machines seemed to play in Bratten favour when he was recreating the sonic signatures of this retro-fitted music, emphasising their inherent character which in part laid the foundations for the original genre. 

Happy arpeggios flit through dramatic soundscapes that contain all the drama of a Disco anthem without sacrificing the danceable beat. The opening- and title track paints by numbers as syncopated beats echo through vintage effects while euphoric bass-lines dig towards the centre of the dance floor. In a happy dichotomy however, there’s very little tying the record to compatriots like Prins Thomas, Lindstrøm and Todd Terje, who had already planted a flag. Bratten’s sound was bolder, and more striking and when you get to a track like Aegis other elements start coming to the fore in a serious divergence from the national tropes. 

“Aegis was a more Techno-ish, more British, more border community kind of vibe,” André Bratten told us in an interview with this blog. With just a “twist of Techno”, he produced something that sat outside the Norwegian Disco trends, and yet couldn’t be completely extrapolated from it either.  “I had to think a little about politics, I couldn’t do a super weird Techno record first,” he said, but elements of what was to come in the following EP was already there. It’s true that most of Math Ilium Ion was created and produced before his debut LP, but like everything else, Bratten’s approach was nothing but a calculated response to what he was hearing around him and finding his own niche within that. 

He didn’t want to be compared to Lindstrøm, an easy task for the media, who sought nothing else to pigeonhole him with his studio neighbour.  “It’s hard not to becauseI share studio space and use analogue synthesisers and drum machines,” he told Electronic beats, but Bratten was intent on making his own mark, and used tracks like Aegis, and his singular approach to the studio to make an indelible mark. 

There’s something more stark and at times abrasive to Be A Man You Ant and even when dealing with uplifting melodies, it’s clouded in a perpetual darkness. “You can’t make music that is not personal, sure, but that’s my arena, and it’s not for anyone else,” he said when we talked about the mood he creates on tracks like Aegis and Trommer og Bass. Whether he’s being manipulative or aloof is unsure, but he’s less inclined to talk about these “feelings” behind the music. “I don’t want to be a dictator of what people feel. I find people that need to talk about the personal input in their music need to see a shrink.” Yet, even to an uninformed listener they are ever-palpable in his music. 

Later in the André Bratten catalogue records like Gode and Pax Americana would emphasis and enhance the emotional depths the music can flow to in pronounced soundscapes orchestrated around melancholy electronica, but for Be A Man You Ant, they are very much subverted for the overall estascism of the Disco beat. There’s a depth there that belies the happy-go-lucky nature of the Disco formula as chirping synthesisers clash with dissonant harmonic movements, infusing the music with a sense of drama that only somebody like Arthur Russell could achieve. 

It was a brief dalliance with the Disco genre, but its impact some ten years on is no less significant. While André Bratten would go on to make everything from wavy pop-electronica to warping bleep Techno, Be A Man You Ant would be left to its own devices in the artist’s catalogue, a hermetically sealed slice of perfection for its time and beyond.

Bratten moves on quickly in terms of music, and you’ll never find an artist repeating himself in the studio. At times this even makes it hard to pin-point the results with any kind of artistic identity, but each record, including Be A Man You Ant has tis time and place in his wide arching catalogue. When we spoke to him back in 2015, he said;  “I think the Norwegian scene is missing a proper Techno guy, so I’m trying to be that guy.” For a while he was that guy, playing blistering live sets and making uncompromising Techno on records Math Ilim Ion or skiddish broken Electro on records like Valve, but what he established on Be A Man You Ant remains intact. Ten years on it’s a modern classic and a record that still garners some fanfare whenever it comes on. 

Feeling good with Fredfades

Fredfades is a prolific talent. An artist, a producer, a DJ, a facilitator and a label boss, he has his fingers in a host of pies, while maintaining a regular 9-5 throughout. A founding member of the Mutual Intentions franchise, his musical projects extend from producing records for the clan including Ivan Ave, solo records, a host of collaborative projects like those with Jawn Rice and Tøyen Holding.

In the past year alone he’s released a solo record, a collaborative record with Sraw, a Tøyen Holding record and oversaw a host of Mutual Intentions releases, all while DJing regularly in Norway and abroad. With the increasing popularity of Tøyen Holding, Fredfades has also become a household name in Norway, syphoning some of the group’s open-minded fans into the world of electronic music, and specifically House. 

Alongside his other efforts, Fredfades has positioned Mutual intentions in a unique position in Norway and beyond as a label, whose bread and butter is in Hip Hop, but whose musical exploits go into the farthest reaches of the dance floor and even Jazz. Alongside an increasing popularity for club music Fredfades star has risen with his classic-leaning House aesthetic finding the ears of new audiences everywhere. 

His latest record Caviar showcases his mastery of vintage synthesisers and drum machines alongside a knack for effervescent melodies and accessible arrangements. The album, like his previous records, straddles that elusive gap between the functional and the approachable, where they can exist both in the club space and a set of headphones. 

He’s just about to play Trevarefest in Lofoten when I call him up. “The weather up here can be pretty crazy, but this year it was alright, especially the first day which was amazing.“ he says. Trevarefest precedes his upcoming appearance at ØyaNatt for Jaeger on Wednesday in what is already a busy summer for the DJ. Between playing, making records and his efforts with Mutual Intentions he still has to maintain his day job and it’s at his computer I find him at this pursuit when we talk. 

*photos by Christopher Næss

What is your day job, is it still graphic design?

Kind of. I studied graphic design, but at the time there was nothing like UX. I changed jobs last year, and before that I worked for a company that does a lot of apps, for Norwegian and international companies. I’ve been doing that for 11 years. 

When you mentioned the work you do, some things kind of fell into place for me, because there’s quite a visual and physical component to the merch and extra’s you and Mutual Intentions produce; From the packaging on the vinyl to things like the silk head scarves. What’s in those kinds of things personally for you and how do you think it contributes to what you do musically? 

Yes I mean designer is my profession, and it’s kinda been all the way back since 2008 ish. But for the past twelve years I’ve been working non-stop with technology and user experience. I’m a very practical person, and that’s easy to see in my daily work as a designer/UX guy. I’m about solving problems, not designing in a way that creates problems, as some people choose to do.

 When it comes to our label and merch, I still don’t do much myself, we use Hans Jørgen Wærner (our in-house designer) and hire various external designers, and I do some very strict art direction and feedback with these designers/illustrators to get the most out of them and maintain the loud and clear way of design and communication that I do believe we (our label) tend to have as the only design principle/consistency across our projects. 

But to answer your questions properly: most people don’t have a record player but still like to support the artists they listen to. That’s why we spend a lot of time making nice products for all listeners, and not only record collectors and deejays.

I think I’ve asked you this before, but how do you find time for the music and everything around it, and manage to be so productive?

I just always make music on the weekends. I think it started out when I grew up. I lived in a very small apartment with my father and I was never comfortable making music when he was there, so I just did it when he was working on Saturdays and travelling.

What kind of music were you making when you still lived with your dad?

When I first got into it I started producing Hip Hop. I bought the SP303 – that was the first sampler – in 2005. Then I bought the MPC the year after and then in 2007, I got the SP1200, that’s when I really started making beats.  

I assume that you were still learning how to operate the machines back then, but if we return to the present, when you do work on music, are you working to get a song out each time you touch these machines or are you still exploring creatively?

How I started making beats was very primitive in terms of the process. It was always about over-dubbing. I would start out with some samples and then some drums, and overdub with some samples, and then overdub again with something else.

I never had a proper soundcard (used to capture the sounds on computer recording software). So I always arranged and mixed everything in the boxes, which meant that I had to make everything sound nice before I sampled it and then hit play on the MPC (sampler)

It’s not until recently – probably 2018 – that I had a proper soundcard with multiple inputs. So now I work very differently. It’s kind of a more jammy approach to making music. I make rough drafts, with like six layers of sound and then I just dump it into the computer and open stuff later on and if I like it when I hear it later on, then I get to the actual production. 

Then you must be working on songs all the time at the moment, and from the outsider perspective it seems you are in this very productive creative period. 

Actually, I feel like I’m producing less. I’m definitely doing more sketches. I do hundreds of demos, but I only set a few aside for working on properly. 

With all these projects you’re constantly working from Tøyen Holding, to your solo stuff and the collaborative projects like with Jawn Rice, do you know what you’re working on from the moment of inception or do you only consider that part when you’re opening up one of these “demos”?

I never have any plans for my music, I just make it. For example, when I saw I had a few solo songs finished, I decided to put them together in a mini album. If I would have six or seven songs with Jawn, maybe we will finish a record. With the Tøyen Holding stuff, there’s a goal to work towards, like an actual Rap album with 18 songs. 

I guess the process is very different from making a Rap record to making a Fredfades record?

Yeah, the Tøyen Holding stuff is completely sample based. It’s not about composing or producing, it’s about having the backdrop and rapping over it. 

Do you feel like you have to be in a particular state of mind for working on music in general and does it differ for different projects?

I only make music if I’m feeling good. I’m not the type of person that gets inspired by stress or emotions. I’m always positive when I’m in the studio, it feels fun to be there and I always have a good time. 

Out of all these projects, it seems that Tøyen Holding has hit a nerve. Why do you think it’s so popular at the moment, and do you think it spills over to your other projects?

Yeah, I think it helped my Caviar album a little bit. Previously, it’s been a bit hard to sell the House releases in Norway, but this one went extremely well. I think a big part of it is because people know me from the Tøyen Holding project. I also think that club music has become very commercial and it’s a very normal thing to say you are enjoying Techno music and House music, which it was not 5 years ago. 

Between all these elements that you experience working with Mutual Intentions, between Hip Hop, dance music and even Jazz, what do you think is the main draw these days?

Our label has always been hard to grow as a label, because we have too many hats on. For us to put out Hip Hop music in Norway is definitely easier than to put out electronic music. Rap is the world’s biggest genre, so it will always appeal to more people than electronic music.

As I said, I also feel that electronic music is more commercial. It splits the scene in two; the people like myself, who tend to believe that I understand the history of the music and on the other hand you have the people who do festivals and spotify playlists, who mixed what we would consider genuine with what we consider sell-out. In my opinion the festivals should be responsible for teaching people about proper music, but sometimes it’s just “babes” in black leather bikinis playing 150 BPM techno.

Yeah it seems like it’s become about aesthetics rather than musical content, because everything is so determined by social media, good looking people playing terrible music and it’s spilled over into the clubs, especially the big room kind of places.

How I see it is people just know how to sell themselves, jump on the wave, and use it to generate money, or attention or whatever they’re seeking, and it’s not about the music. 

Of course, it’s a subjective matter. I just feel that together with the whole genre becoming commercial, problems (if you want to call it that) will appear.  

Let’s talk about Caviar for a bit, because as you say it is a club record, but it’s also something that is more accessible than your average House record, because of the vocals and the nature of melodies.  Was that a conscious decision on your part?

Not really. I like to DJ a lot and  play club music, but whenever I make music myself, it tends to be more introverted and laid back, which is more natural for me. I’ve always used jazzy chords and I make mellow music and it affects the way I think. I’ve never seen myself creating bangers. Some of them will be 128 BPM but they would still be a bit more mellow. 

There’s the definitive bridge in your music between Hip Hop and House, which reminds me of the early 90s and late 80’s when these things were a bit more interchangeable. Are  you trying to bring these two worlds together in the way you approach your own music?

No, it was never my intention. I guess it’s just where I came from. The very first House songs I liked were sample based, just drums and some loops, but after a very short time, I figured out the songs I really liked were composed and produced. 

Can you give me an example?

I think it was when I first discovered Larry heard and realised he didn’t sample anything. That’s when I really got interested in electronic music. That was the first thing I loved.

Was there any overarching  musical theme to Caviar, or was it simply the period that they were made in?

It was made over a couple of years. The way I did this, I had this playlist with all these other songs, and I tried to divide them into two different projects, where I prioritised the best cuts and spread them over two records. So I have another finished ready, which sounds similar because it was all from the same time.

Why did you decide to put out two mini records instead of just one for Caviar?

I mean – it’s not two mini records, I just had so much music that it made sense to turn it into several projects. It’s already 8 tracks on that Caviar album, which is a lot for the format, if you know what I mean? Some friends even wanted me to release them as classic 12″s/EP’s with only four songs on each release. But I kind of like to give as much value as possible to the customers that buys my music, and a lot of the music I make is kinda introvert and not very clubby, so it’s natural for me to think that it will be consumed more in an “album listening context ” rather than having the songs ending up played by DJ’s in clubs. That’s why I felt that it made sense. I’ll probably do the same with eight more songs, then go from there over to a more “Maxi-EP-focused” approach. 

So, was there any creative impulse that fed into these two projects, something like a synthesiser or a sound?

I really enjoy this sound from Italy and the UK from the mid-nineties, where they just used the stock sounds of the synthesiser. So when I buy a synthesiser, I just factory reset it, and I don’t create too many patches or stuff. I think it’s fun to use the ready-made stuff. I really like the references to the classic patches. That’s why I like these Italo and British records from the nineties, because it all just refers to the machines. 

In terms of writing the music, how much do the machines dictate the direction your songs take, or do you have a preconceived idea that directs you to specific machines?

When I do hiphop stuff, I like to sequence the beats I make on the SP1200 inside the SP1200’s sequencer. But when I do use that sampler for House music, I prefer sequencing the sounds stored inside the SP from an external sequencer, which in my studio would be my Sequentix Cirklon or my MPC 3000. I always work very layer based, because that’s where I come from. It always made me approach music production in a very primitive way. Sometimes I copy my sequences around and reprogram and arrange it slightly on the hardware sequencers first, but when it’s time to actually produce and process and arrange the music, I usually disconnect my Mac from my studio setup and work with headphones in Ableton and might then go back and hook it back in the studio setup if I would need another layer or sound or something. I’ve been making beats on the MPC 2000, the 2000 XL and the 3000 since probably back in 2007. 

This record, like your others, also features a ton of collaborators. Was there any reason you wanted these people on this record, and what do you usually look for in collaborators?

I feel really confident composing the foundations of the songs, the grooves, the chord progressions and stuff, but I often struggle with, for example solos. So I use people like Arthur (Kay) on my records. Otherwise it’s just random people that have been in the studio, where we’ve been drinking beers and making music together.

What about the vocalists, because a lot of them are American?

Yeah, they are all American. One of them is MoRuf from Jersey, he’s one of my favourite rappers. It was the first time for him rapping on a House song. The other guy is just somebody I stumbled across on instagram. His name is Kristian Hamilton, and he’s an extremely talented musician. 

While we’re on the subject of collaborations, I really want to talk about the SP1200 record. It’s something the geek inside of me really enjoyed because of the process of making the record. What planted the seed initially?

Sraw has always been an Internet friend to me, since back in the Myspace days. He was always one of the producers I really enjoyed listening to. We had so much similar equipment and similar interests. At some point, around 2012 (when we started working on this record), I decided to fly him over and hang out for a few days and create some beats. I’ve visited him in Sweden and we’ve just been going back and forth a few times. Obviously it wasn’t enough and as you can’t change the music digitally, we had to actually ship the floppy. 

Was there ever a vague idea of what the tracks would sound like completed, or was it a matter of getting the floppy back and it would be completely changed?

It was more about a layered approach, so we wouldn’t fuck up each other’s stuff too much. 

It was that raw beat-type feel to it, that really emphasises the character of the machine.

Yeah, you really don’t need that many elements with that sampler, because  you get so much free texture. It automatically sounds nice.  

Do you think you’ll do it again?

It took  a very long time to do that record. I don’t think we’ll do it again. I’m happy to release Sraw’s music on Mutual. It’s extremely great. 

 

ØyaNatt 2023 lineup and tickets announced

International and local acts fill the week in August as Jaeger yet again hosts two floors during ØyaNatt tin 2023 again. Tickets and lineup are up now.

When the sun sinks on Tøyen park and the last of the live acts echo down the hill we give in to nocturnal habits and make a beeline for the city where ØyaNatt starts to simmer and dir with the sounds of club life. In the annual tradition, Jaeger hosts two floors across the week including the Wednesday in 2023. Telephones, Fredfades, Teebee, Dave Clarke, Anémi, Chloé Caillet, Paramida, Slindre and Ellka join our residnets and residencies for a week of club music where we pull out all the stops and things like budget and common sense go out the window.

This year BigUP hosts a floor from the basement with a night of Drum n Bass and Jungle featuring a local treasure and a world-class drum n bass icon Teebee. We’ve got the Baron of Techno, Dave Clarke on the other side of Helt Texas and this Frædag showcase some rising stars in Chloé Caillet and Paramida alongside Oslo club concept, Lokomotiv. In a turn this year, Sunkissed takeover the sauna for the closing party with Elkka and a live performance from Vinny Villbass.

Here’s the full lineup and schedule:

09.08 – ØyaNatt x Bigup

Fredfades (NO)
Telephones (NO)
Teebee (NO)
Drunkfunk + Fjell + Tech + Simon Peter (NO)

10.08 – ØyaNatt x Helt Texas!

Dave Clarke (UK)
Anémi (NO)
Normann + Ole HK (NO)
Manu Rochina (NO)

11.08 – ØyaNatt x Lokomotiv x Frædag

Chloé Caillet (FR)
Paramida (DE)
g-HA & Olanskii (NO)
Slindre

12.08 – ØyaNatt x Sunkissed x Nightflight

Elkka (UK)
g-HA & Olanskii (NO)
Vinny Villbass (NO)
Sunkissed allstars (NO)
MC Kaman & Kash (NO)

 


Tickets are now available via our ticketco page and you can find more info about the events on our program page.

 

Percolating at BCR with Perkules

In the BCR triad of creators we’ve spent a lot of time focussing on two, namely Anders Hajem and Henrik Villard. Always at hand with the next release, a mix or some kind of musical news, Anders and Henrik are responsible for the majority of BCR’s output, seemingly, but not actually, neglecting their third, Perkules aka Jens Wabo. 

While Jens has been the quieter member of the group, his presence is no less trivial. As a founding member he orchestrates much of the label, events and now mix franchise, even while as an artist he favours a more conservative output. Apart from a couple of singles in 2021, he’s remained content with his duties behind the decks, and when he does release something he offers a little outlier to the norm both at BCR and any concurrent dance floor trends. 

His latest, “Show me Right” is an infectious exercise in crossing the lines between saccharine bubblegum melodies and functional House grooves. With a percussive palette going off-script in the Roland X0X annals and with uplifting chords issuing from some distant nostalgia, there’s a lot to appreciate and much that entices.

It’s only his third release, all of which come via the BCR platform, and challenges any generic status quo in terms of sound if any did indeed exist. It arrived on BCR last month and with more slated for the near future including a remix from Justin Cudmore for Perkules, there is much percolating on the Perkules front, so we took at as a premise to finally interview the third member of BCR and complete the triptych. 

We caught up with Jens during a sunny day in June, the week after launching the return of their Summer Residency, Sundaze at Jaeger. Like Anders and Henrik, Jens is a reserved character, a stoic quiet kind of person that seems mature beyond his years. We have much to discuss, and to me he’s still very much a blank slate, a piece of the BCR puzzle that will finally complete our purview of the Oslo label and events series. 

Where do you fit into the BCR universe?

Anders and Henrik are super ambitious in their artistic pursuits. They  are constantly in the studio making three to five songs a week, and their music keeps getting better and better. But my output is not that consistent, so it’s hard for me to have that as my main thing.

Were you producing music before you met them? 

Yes, but not that much. Anders and I had grown from mainly Rock music into (House) music together. I was kinda dragging him in. I make music 20 minutes at a time in these bursts of inspiration. 

Did you start off with DJing or were you still playing in bands when you started discovering House music?

I guess both. Bands were way before. When Anders and I met, he had recently bought some DJ gear and then we started playing around with that together. 

What sort of stuff were you playing in the band?

Anders played guitar and I played drums.

And in terms of music, what did it sound like and what were you drawn to?

Where I’m from, in a town called Tonsberg, which only has 40 000 people, having to play in a band is all about compromises. It was bands like Queens of the Stone Age, Turbonegro, and scandi-wave bands like Hellacopters. 

What  got you into electronic music?

I feel like anybody that has an interest in music, has some cool uncle figure that just pushed music in their direction. I have two older brothers like that. Since I was  5 or 6 years old, every christmas and every birthday I would get really cool CDs, like Discovery from Daft Punk and Melody A.M by Røyksöpp. But I had to re-access it when I was a little bit older.  

I guess when you were learning to play drums and as a teeneager you really got into a one track mind where you avoid anything that is not related to Rock music or drumming and it takes a while to rediscover music that was always there in the background?

Probably. I think around the time Daft Punk’s Random Access Memory was released, which was a good bridge into House music.

That record celebrated 20 years this year. What was it about that album for you?

The way I assess that album is that they tried to make a synthesis of all the records they sampled in the past. It’s kind of like George Duke, early Michael Jackson, and Chic with Nile Rogers on the guitar. 

And that got you into electronic music in terms of DJing or producing? 

I’ve always been interested in how things work. So, when I found Daft Punk again, I was straight into Youtube to find some videos of how they sampled and everything. It probably all came at the same time, the sample stuff and listening to “alive” and some of their DJ sets, even though it was more machine based. 

From there you slipped in House and deep House. 

Yes, and more commercial stuff. 

What kind of stuff?

That was early Spotify days, around 2011, Probably whatever was cool back then. I have no clear picture, but it was mostly deep stuff and French-wave too.

In the structure of BCR, how do you differ from those guys in terms of the music you DJ?

They are hungry in a way that I don’t feel I can match. If you are going to get that good in something like music, you have to be monotone in a good way. They have that, and I’m all over the place. Henrik is good at keeping his sound, in terms of building his identity as an artist. For me that goes beyond music. I have some other things I would like to do. 

That brings me to your last release, “Show me Right,” because that’s almost like a bubblegum track and very different from the other stuff coming via BCR. Was that a conscious decision?

Yeah. I feel like we’re privileged by having our own (platform) that we can experiment in that way. That song has been ready for release for over a year. As we started playing at Jaeger a bit more we tried to incorporate a bit more proto-House and synthesised-bass disco. I got super-inspired and tried to make something like that. It was hard to nail the sound. We had originally been in touch with Storken to help us release it on other labels, but that fizzled out, and we released it ourselves.

Which helps with expanding the catalogue of the label again.

I feel that the releases should have a strong identity, that’s most important for us. 

Listening to your next release, Echelon which has more in common with nineties  big-room House music, it seems you’re easily swayed into new avenues in music.

Exactly. It’s hard for me to do stuff that I’m not 100%  into and that shifts all the time.

Justin Cudmore is on that record too as a remix artist. How did you meet?

We never met, actually. We are super fan boys mainly. That’s our first identity and our second identity is producers. So, we just reach out everywhere. We wrote to him and he actually lived in Oslo for some time. 

Why did you want him to remix that track specifically?

Anders and I, when we got super into more club music, Justin’s Twisted Love EP was a top ten EP of all time. 

What’s your process as you start making music, what instrument kicks it all off?

Drums mainly or I find one specific song that I love and I just have to figure it out. I feel like when you listen to as much House music as we have to, it tires easily. You wouldn’t eat the same pizza for days in a row, for example. 

Do you think knowing how to play drums has an effect on how you approach electronic music?

Probably. If I’ve read an interview with a producer and in the interview it comes out that they play drums, it often makes sense to me. The music is mostly rhythmical instead of melody-based for me. It’s more important where the notes are located than what note they are. 

Playing at Jaeger as much as you do, especially in summer for your Sundaze residency, do you believe it has had an impact on the way that you DJ?

Yes. We felt more confident to look broader; I think that is one of the advantages of Jaeger, the musical identity is broad. 

Do you ever feel the pressure in the current climate to pitch up your tracks in a scene that is going faster and harder all the time?

When we started in 2019, that’s when it really started to happen and we were also more into Techno and faster stuff at the time. Then we thought let’s see what goes on in the other direction; to look in the cheesy department and see what’s the least cool thing and rather play that if the songs are good rather than being in a coolness arm-wrestle with those guys. 

And it’s not like they are not drinking from the same fountain. It might be faster and harder, but there’s always a vocal line and a melody. 

I agree. It’s 2000’s pop stuff with an acapella over a fast rhythm track. 

Does Sundaze have any effect in the way you’ve approached your sets?

What we talked about after last summer was, playing 5 hours every Sunday over summer is the best way to get better. We’re just trying to explore more, take more risks and trying to take advantage of having a consistent 5 hours together. When you play once a month you have to go back some steps every time. We can just start wherever we ended last week. 

Dorm!tory – Where the Homies play

We speak to the creators of Dorm!tory to talk queer theory, music and a safe space to play ahead of their event this Wednesday.

…And when the lights go out… “that’s when the Homies play”. 

Dorm!tory arrives at Jaeger this Wednesday. A new concept from some of the people behind Evrysome, Dorm!tory expands on the queer philosophies of its predecessor in an event that redefines queer as  “something more related to the fluidity of gender” in the club context. Its creators, Pedro Leal, Eduardo Miranda, Johannes Strand, Daniel John and Terje Dybdahl represent every corner of the globe as “a gay group inside the queer group and a queer group inside humanity.” From the Philippines, to Mexico, to Brazil to… Mysen, the group are a multicultural mix that cover a couple of generations of club enthusiasts. 

For their first event they’ve invited kindred spirits Por Detroit’s Perfect Lovers. As their Mexican counterpart Por Detroit reflects some of the same queer ideologies Dorm!tory will set out to adopt and alongside Bears in Space, Dick Dennis, DJ Brødskive, globaldrama and O/E they’ve amassed a musical lineup that will soundtrack Dorm!tory’s conceptual designs.  

We met the creators behind the event on a rainy summer’s day in Jaeger’s bar where they spread themselves over a couple of chesterfield sofas. Besides Terje Dybdahl (Tod Louie / Dick Dennis), introductions are necessary before they dive into the creation of this new concept.

“In the queer discussion masculinity is a topic that is outside of the identities that are inclusive, because of how toxic masculinity has become through the years,” according to the creators and they hope that the event will be a “solution for the toxic masculinity that affects everything inside or outside the queer world.” They want men to take ownership of the topic of masculinity. Why “should we have the feminist do all the work” they ask as they seek to create an “event that can bring back masculinity and men as the focus group,” which they then hope will add to the discussion of “new perceptions of gender and patriarchy.”  

All of this happens in the abstract, and for Dorm!tory to succeed it needs to be a party. The name reflects “something sexier and kind of secret” to appeal to their audience which still include gay men in every hue of the rainbow spectrum to a point where it can include “straight men that enjoy other men’s company.” 

They want to “build an infrastructure where we can all thrive and dance with each other” even if you fall between the gaps of every identity group out there. The collective hopes Dorm!tory will be that space where the exclusivity of certain events and spaces would be negated. 

For the youngest generation that might have “lost something, especially with covid” in what was already an era fraught with minefields in social interaction this is more important than ever for the group. “Growing up with social media,” in the way that this generation has, there’s a “different way of approaching people.” There’s an inherent “scepticism” which has only hardened with the “social isolation” we encountered with covid. As a group they hope to create a space where it’s “ok to just have a chat with someone” without the judgement that is taken at a superficial value through something like Grindr.

“At the end of the day we are humans with different needs and the friendship and the connection is most important.” Dorm!tory seeks to have a truly democratic space where you can stand “shoulder to shoulder” with somebody different, and there’s no better place for that than the dance floor in their opinion. 

In that context the soundtrack plays an important role and as such they’ve decided the programming at this party will definitely be rooted in the 70’s and 80’s; “First and foremost disco and house from the eighties.” They’ll look to “gay icons” like  “Patrick Cowley and Sylvester” for inspiration, paying homage to the roots and early “history of house music and queer culture.” They’ve assembled a host of DJs to relay that message for the very first session with even somebody like long-time Dick Dennis favourite, O/E abandoning his stoic Techno uniform for some 80s hi-nrg disco. 

They’re especially “honoured, having Perfect Lovers and Victor Rodriguez” from the queer concepts “Por Detroit” and “Bears In Space” from Mexico City in L.A. The booking happened almost as a “calling from the universe somehow.” On top of that, the burgeoning Oslo queer- and ballroom phenomenon Globaldrama and the established DJ Brødskive start a very busy billing with the incorrigible Dick Dennis completing the lineup across two dance floors. 

In what they describe as a “celebration of the night,” at the apex of the witching hour they’ll go completely dark in the basement, simulating the situations of collective dormitories where the Homies play, when the light turns off. It’s an opportunity to “explore each other blindly and not be judged by appearances,” and even “break the rules” a little. 

With so much of the queer scene being infiltrated and co-opted by a straight majority, it’s important for Dorm!tory to retain some of that rule-breaking and non-conformist ideologies that permeated queer culture from the start. “Dorm!tory doesn’t assume the queer identity as an umbrella, but we take the demand of people who are escaping out of that umbrella.”

Swan song with Deadswan

We discuss safe zones, being provocative, Oslo’s queer scene, everything about satan and sex, and the legacy he leaves behind, as Deadswan bows out of the DJ booth.

Reidar Engesbak is the absolute anathema to every pearl clutching conservative out there. He is a queer artist that has re-appropriated every stigma middle-establishment could throw at him and co-opted it in a provocative creation that is part politics, part performance, and consumes every fibre of his being. It imbues his many different guises; Deadswan the DJ, Enegesbak the journalist, Reidar Deadswan, the eternal club kid, and when we go further back, Genitalia and Sadomaoistan too.  

For over thirty years, he’s been a pillar of non-conformity on Oslo’s queer scene (although he’s originally from Bergen) with some confluence between the extended LGBTQI+++ and DJ scene, pre-dating even some of Oslo’s most established selectors. His club nights Strictly Kinky and Iconoclastic, live on in infamy today, while his progressive politics continue to find an outlet through the written word as one of the leading voices of Norway’s LGBTQI++ magazine, Blikk. At the height of his notoriety, performances as part of Genitalia shocked and caused outrage as he and his peers paved the way for the next generation of queer people. 

At the heart of all these different projects that Deadswan’s created over the years is something that is “always sex positive and always very queer” and in terms of music this would be captured in “dirty samples and raunchy sex stuff” and include “everything that is about satan and sex.” 

Strictly Kinky would give queer people their first space in Oslo; Iconoclastic would brandish banners admonishing any form of facism; while Genitalia would rebuke any form of homophobia. In one of Genitalia’s most notorious exploits, they doused Eurovision star and “pray-the-gay-away” advocate Carola in beer during their performance at Rockefeller. The incident caused quite the furrore, leading Reider to write an op-ed piece explaining the group’s actions through Blikk, incidentally laying the foundation for a career in journalism through those very pages.

Today he’s one of the elder statesmen of the scene and he’s more likely to start a conversation than cover an unsuspecting audience in blood (more on that later). While by his own account he has “mellowed” with age, he remains politically active and continues to be a visceral voice and face on the leading edge of the queer scene. His provocations have tempered with sobriety and married life and in his husband – “who’s handled so many of my quirks” – he’s also found “a rock”. And with this new clarity in his life, he’s decided that there will no longer be any Deadswan to direct some of his energies in the future.

As of the 1st of July 2023 during a DJ appearance for Olle Abstract’s LYD, Deadswan will be laid to rest, the final swan song and a celebration of one of the most thought-provoking and exciting DJs to emerge from Oslo. Why is he choosing to bring it to an end now? I met up with Reidar over a reserved coffee to talk about this and the impressive career and legacy he leaves behind as he retires the moniker. 

Deadswan: Let’s get one thing straight. I’m hopeless when it comes to years and you know, remembering. So we have to wing it. 

Mischa: That’s fine because what I want to start off with was something recent; the fact that you’re stopping Djing. Why?

Deadswan: I don’t know. I’m at this place in my life where… Okay, this is what my therapist said: “You need to find out who you are without the DJ thing.” When I get invites, it’s always as Reidar Deadswan. I think I’ve felt kind of trapped in working this face on the gay scene. So I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do. 

Mischa: And what’s that?

Deadswan: Move out of the city. We have a house in the country. I really liked my own company. I’m not afraid to be alone. 

Mischa: Earlier, you talked about being provocative. Have you always been provocative; even as a kid growing up in Bergen?

Deadswan: When I was growing up at school they tried to bully me, but you can’t bully me because I always knew that I was different. Every week on Fridays for instance, we had this class hour where you could bring music and play it to the classroom. I always had to play last, because then the rest of the kids could leave. It was just me and the teacher playing new wave. They didn’t get me at all. The teacher got me. 

Mischa: Was music an important part of being provocative right from the beginning?

Deadswan: Yes, I remember when I discovered Soft Cell. That was an eye-opener for me.  That’s always been my group. 

Mischa: From the first album, the Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret? 

Deadswan: Yeah, that one and before that it was Adam and the Ants. I went on a school trip to Oslo and they had this shop in Grensen; where they sold t-shirts and bondage gear and stuff.  I came home with an Adam and the Ants t-shirt with bondage imagery, and my mother was like,” what?” I  wore that to school and my bedroom walls were full of Adam and the Ants and then Soft Cell.

Mischa:  Tainted Love would have been huge, though. That was in the charts. 

Deadswan: Oh, yes. It was a huge success. People write them off as they were one hit wonder but they had hits. I mean it was really memorabilia and non-stop erotic dancing –  which is picked to be the first ecstasy record – I never heard anything like it. 

Mischa: So when you are playing this kind of stuff to the kids in the school, even tracks we consider hits today, they still thought it was weird?

Deadswan: They didn’t understand anything. 

Mischa: Following these acts, were you just listening to the music or were you also trying to emulate them in terms of how they presented themselves, like what they were wearing?

Deadswan: Yes, I went to school with my homemade bondage trousers, based on Adam Ant. You know, obsessed!

Mischa: At what point do you think like;  okay, I’m playing all this music. Let me try and put it together as a DJ set.

Deadswan:That was when I moved to Oslo. Because when I moved to Oslo, I got involved with queer activism, and we had this group called the pink rebels. We were running around at night, spray painting walls and having demonstrations.

And then we started taking over London pub (Oslo). One of the guys who worked there, who was also in pink rebels, got the opportunity to use the back room. It was an empty space so we got to make our own club there, called Shame Club. That’s where I started DJing. 

That was during the whole Madchester wave. So, it’s Stone Roses, Happy Mondays and British dance music like S’ Express, but of course Georgio Moroder, Donna Summer, Sylvester. 

Mischa: Was there a big scene in Oslo for that kind of music back then?

Deadswan:  No, we were one of the first places to play Acid and British Dance, but I always mixed it up with stuff like Deutsche American Freundschaft, Nitzer Ebb and Front 242. 

Mischa: Was there a bit of a queer scene happening in Oslo at that time? 

Deadswan: No queer scene. It was just the gays. Even there, we were the weird ones, we were the queers and they were the gays.

So then we started Strictly Kinky. Trying to cater to the more alternative crowd, but without sexuality being the main issue. So, we knocked on So What’s (where jaeger is today) doors. 

They were really reluctant. Because we had already started this group called Genitalia, which was doing performances. So they were like, “we’re not sure if this fits here,” but we were regulars so they knew us. 

They gave us a Sunday during Christmas and we redecorated the whole club. We built a huge vagina that you had to walk through, which we could never do today because he was made of plastic. If there had been a fire we would all perish. (laughs). We covered the walls in anime japanese porn.We made a real fetish club and people who dressed up got in for free. There were strictly no photographs allowed and we had performances, like a guy in the corner polishing boots. 

Mischa: It sounds like a torture garden.

Deadswan: Yeah, it was absolutely based on torture garden and it was a success. So What started giving us more dates, not like proper Fridays or Saturdays because it was still too alternative. But eventually, they saw that we could pull the crowd, and then we got very big headed. 

So we thought; “Let’s take this back to Bergen.” We rented a big pink bus and called it, “The magical Oompa Lumpa tour.” We filled it with freaks and drugs and went over to Bergen, where my parents were sitting on a patio looking down with a glass of white wine watching the freak show unfurl. 

Mischa: At what point do you start doing the iconoclastic stuff?

Deadswan: When So What closed we moved Strictly Kinky over to Kraftwerk, with Chris Lynch. And then after a while Little Wolf came along, So then that’s when we started, Iconoclastic. And then we moved it to Kill Your Ego.

Mischa: Was it a continuation of Strictly Kinky?

Deadswan: No, it was separate, it became more about the DJ. 

Mischa: This would have been around the time, or even before the time of our Electroclash became popular?

Deadswan: Yes, it kind of co-emerged.

Mischa : There was something in the air where people got tired of House and Techno. Did you go through the same thing? 

Deadswan: I didn’t get tired of it. It was more about looking backwards and finding the more obscure electronic sounds and movies. Liquid Sky was a huge inspiration for being weird and alienated, you know.  It was kind of tongue in cheek, but electroclash was still really frowned upon.

Mischa: Is that the kind of DJ style you always liked and preferred? 

Deadswan: Yes, I didn’t beatmix at all.

Mischa: When did that start?  

Deadswan: It started at Kill Your Ego, when I started playing with Lynch and Little Wolf, because they are really turntablist. I hung out there after hours iust playing and mixing and recording every night.  I could never beat mix on vinyl though. I have a huge library of CDs, and I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it after Deadswan. (laughs)

Mischa:  At the same time you were doing Iconoclastic in Oslo, we  also had parties all around the world, especially in London, doing similar things, like Erol Alkan’s Trash. Was something in the air at that time for you? 

Deadswan: Yeah, We travelled to Nag-Nag a lot. I got to know Johnny Slut and Fil OK. Which was amazing because they were doing the same thing as we were doing. But the thing that differed Nag-Nag in London to Iconoclastic was everyone was speeding their tits off in Oslo. We brought over Princess Julia and we brought over War Boy and they were just shocked by the amount of drugs in Oslo. There was a kind of punk energy in the clubbing here.

Mischa: That reminds me of what you talked about earlier Genitalia. There was a very punk element to the performances that somehow also found its way on national TV.  From what I saw in a Youtube clip it was something like Club Kids doing sesame street. How did that happen?

Deadswan: We got this call from NRK and they said you want to come on an audition and I was like, no, I don’t want to be on national television. But we got there and dressed up like we used to, and we said:  “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it our way.”  I mean, they’re really strict, but they bent the rules for us. We did it for a year or something every Thursday. 

Mischa: What was the theme?

Deadswan: The theme was trend. We got sex-exploitation movies that we reviewed on air. We showed clips and then we talked over them. Describing what we were seeing and stuff. It was really trashy. It was kind of a talk show. Tongue and cheek, absurd. 

We got these really weird fan letters from jail from a guy who watched us religiously. He had this business idea that he would go to Germany and dig up all Nazi skulls and make them into piss pots and go to Israel to sell them.

I put this letter on facebook many years later and somehow that post ended up with this guy. So he sent me a message and befriended me. (laughs)

Mischa: Did he end up creating his business?

Deadswan: No, he didn’t. He had some issues, but he came out on the right side.

Mischa: Genitalia was a performance group, first and foremost however, was there a musical component to it?

Deadswan: Well, we got a record contract, and the guy who ran the record company also wanted to be our manager, and we were like; “what? This is weird”.  We didn’t end up doing that. 

Mischa: But you did end up in a musical group, Sadomaoistan. 

Deadswan: Yeah. But that was just the performance part.

Mischa. And what did that entail? 

Deadswan: Things like cutting ourselves…  On one occasion, I got this cleaning bill from Rockefeller because of that. Genitalia were Siamese twins, so we had these corsets joining us. And then we just got out our razors and started cutting each other.

This was at an AIDS benefit. Because we thought, “What’s the most scary thing that queers can experience?” Yes, sperm and blood! Nobody got it. We had such fun, but backstage was just full of blood so we had to pay for that.

I have this great picture of me with all the cuts. And then the photographer was “just one more, just one more” and I fainted. 

Mischa: And what did the organisers say, they were not happy?  

Deadswan: No. It was the same when we went to euro pride in Copenhagen. We were booked on the main stage and pride had become such a corporate thing. So we thought “let’s do something provocative.” The vocalist ate a lot of chilli con carne. And at the end of the show, we attacked him and – I’m not sure what we put into his mouth – but when he had to vomit, he vomited a rainbow flag.

The organisers came and took our badges, and ordered us to leave and “don’t come back!” We were always kind of more queer than gay. And we wanted to challenge the whole idea of this gay community thing. Sometimes with intentions and sometimes just for fun.

Mischa: I think people like you probably paved the way for a lot of what’s happening now especially in terms of being queer and being a DJ, but at the same time that kind of thing would not fly these days.

Deadswan: Yeah. The thing is, now, it’s all about safe spaces, you know. Everyone has this list of things you’re not allowed to do and we never had that. If we had any trouble, we had to deal with it. And I’m kind of worried that people are lulling themselves into this safe zone thing. There is no such thing as a safe space. You have to maintain it.

I think everybody should be woke, I can’t see the problem with that. If you have these kinds of strict rules; no homophobia, no transphobia, no racism, no sexism, you have to consider how you deal with it if it occurs. That’s where you have to have the focus. 

Mischa: Although you were in Sadomaoistan, you never tried your hand at music?

Deadswan:  No, I had always been a fan. I tried to go into the studio, but sitting listening to the same sound bites over and over and tweaking just bores the shit out of me. I always think that the best music has been made or someone is sitting making it now so i’m gonna discover it eventually. 

Mischa: Do you feel like the music that you played had to be an expression of who you are?

Deadswan: Yeah. That’s why I always loved everything with dirty samples and raunchy sex stuff. 

Mischa: What are you playing these days?

Deadswan: Yeah, that’s a question. I don’t want to say Deep House but I mean, I like epic, K-hole, tunnel stuff. I really like (I can’t say this,) Nina Kravitz. I mean what the fuck happened to her? I don’t understand but I really like her. I think it’s really hard to pinpoint what I play. I go back and forth. 

Mischa: Is there any period that stands out for you in terms of Djing?

Deadswan: Iconoclastic. Because we mixed everything up from, a-ha to Plastic Bertrand to Leila K to Kraftwerk. I remember DMX Krew was booked at Kill Your Ego. He played upstairs, and we had Iconoclastic in the atrium. He was just standing there looking up at us, and he was just; “what the fuck is this?” He did not get it at all. I think he came when we played “I’ve been losing” you by a-ha.

Then I wasn’t limited to beat mixing. But once you start beat-mixing, it’s really hard to get out of that loop. I was much more free when I didn’t beat mix. And then it becomes kind of like, you don’t want to fuck it up. So, I think that’s the drawback. 

Mischa: That brings me back to why you’re not DJing anymore. Is that part of the reason?

Deadswan: I’m not into the party scene anymore. Everything goes in at 140 bpm now. 

Mischa: I thought 140 BPM would have suited you?

Deadswan: Well, it’s the same as getting into black metal, if you really dive into it, you find the piece in there. And I guess that’s the same with the Techno that’s being played now, but I’m not really invested.

Mischa: That’s interesting. Because I thought this would have been the perfect time for a character like Deadswan to exist.

Deadswan: Yeah. Well you know like bands they always do come back so you never know, I just want to go out without this. I want to focus on other stuff. 

 

Flux takes over the basement in July

We give the keys to the basement to Flux Collective for every Friday in July.

This is what the sound in the basement is made for; machine music with designs on the bottom end and a dance floor. For one month in July, we’ll explore the soundsystem’s limits with a residency from the Flux collective. The Flux collective take over the basement for a whole month as Naboklage, Skodde, Anémi, and Bjerregaard bring their Techno concept to Jaeger with a host of friends and international guests joining the collective at Jaeger. Featuring appearances from Rove Ranger, DJ Broke, foufou malade, Nattl4mpe, Alsén, Betong, Take Kataka, The Unborn Child, Minus Magnus, Olav Eggestøl and BUGRUPPE90. 

With a host of international guests and a fair few local friends, Flux make the basement their home in the first of a Frædag x Flux joint venture. Frædag keep it cosy in the Gården with g-HA presiding over the weekly residency with guest appearances by Vinny Villbass, Mental Overdrive and Hetty while Flux shake the foundations down in our subterranean liar.

You can find all the events on our programme page.

Masterclass with Louie Vega

From his earliest days as a young DJ and enthusiast around the likes of Paradise Garage to his award winning work as one half of Masters at Work, Louie Vega is a House music institution today. We sat down with the DJ and artists between soundcheck and a set at Jaeger to talk about legendary sound systems, DJing as a 15 year old, MAW and the next  step in the Vega dynasty.

Louie Vega has played on some legendary sound systems throughout his career, especially when he was starting out. He was there during the dawn of the club sound system in New York, when people like Richard Long and Alex Rosner were designing some of the best sound systems for the likes of the Loft, Paradise Garage and Zanzibar. These places and systems would become the archetype for everything that we know today and inform much of what Ola and Jaeger’s been creating down in the basement over the years. 

Louie Vega is as much a disciple of these sonic prophets as he is the continuation for their work and legacy. He was there at the source and is one of the direct descendants of audiophiles like Rosner and Long and the DJs that made those sound systems great like Larry Levan and David Mancuso.

It takes a while for that to sink in as Louie darts between each speaker enclave in Jaeger’s subterranean sonic liar; his enthusiasm for a sound system has not tempered in the slightest. 

“That was a special time,” intones the New York DJ  through a smile, when I ask about those early days in New York. “Those were the pioneers and the ones who laid down the blueprint.” New York at that time was a mecca for sound system culture, and from the impromptu street battles (which Louie knew all too well) to the legendary clubs that were born during that time, we still hold in much esteem as the catalyst of our culture today. It was like the city “had 25 Ministry of Sounds,” according to Louie and it’s this legacy that still informs everything he represents today. 

“I’ve been around great sounding sound systems as a kid already,” elaborates Louie. He was “not even playing the clubs yet,” when he started “going to the clubs and listening to the DJs and absorbing” everything. He might have been half a generation too late for places like the Loft, but as soon as he could, he started going out to the likes of Paradise Garage with his older siblings. Louie recalls his first acquaintance with Paradise. “I was 15 when I got into the Garage because of my sisters. I went to a members-only night. That was the first time I saw Larry (Levan). I’ll never forget hearing all these great records like ‘street player;’ all these records that we love now, we heard them there early.”

At 15, Louie was already a veteran DJ, having started from the impossible age of 12. By his late teens he would be established. Hosting block parties around the Bronx from a young age –  ”I had a big soundsystem too; six stacks” – Louie started amassing followers in their thousands and by the time he got his first  shot at an established club, he “brought all the young kids’” with him. That led to his first residency at New York’s Devil Nest, and every Friday and Saturday night he would have the place packed. “I had 2500 – 3000 kids in the club at that time, I was only 19.”  Alongside the other established DJs of the time like David Morales and Tony Humphries, Louie was “the kid” and the honorific “little” stuck because of his relative age. 

Over the years Louie dropped the “Little” misnomer as he became one of the elder statesmen of House music and DJing during the late 1990s. As a solo artist and one half of Masters at Work with Kenny Dope, Louie Vega is a household name today within House music echelons and beyond. 

“How are the ears,” I wonder after all these years listening to these punishing sound systems. He says he’s been “lucky” that they’ve been holding up all these years, without much extra thought to protection – although he has an appointment to be fitted with earplugs soon. 

Louie’s unalienable American ability to engage and his ebullient character makes conversing a pleasure; a humility that’s down to earth. Throughout his career he’s become a monolith in House music circles, a true legend that stands shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Frankie Knuckles and Larry Levan and one of the pivotal figures in bringing House music to the masses. “That’s what they say,” he says in a coy smile that suggests he doesn’t agree, but with 8 grammy nominations and one on his pedestal, Louie Vega has the accolades to validate that claim. 

He continues to be a giant in our scene today, with a legacy that spans generations and continues to hit a nerve even if it’s out of the influence of popularity. Judging from his social media he is always playing or on his way to playing somewhere and yet he still finds the time to release a record… or four. 

His latest, Expansions in the NYC is a quartet of records that celebrate his hometown and offers a birds-eye view of the sonic quality of the party-series that Louie operates under the same name. Elements of House, Funk, R&B, Afro, gospel and those omnipresent Latin influences converge on the extended LP with the help of some heavy collaborators. Moodymann, Kerri Chandler, Joe Clausell, Honey Dijon and many more assist in Louie’s love letter to New York city. It’s a family affair with the presence of his wife Anané and son Nico, really reinforcing the connections across twenty two classic House tracks and on Cosmic Witch things get eerily serendipitous as a song originally composed by Dwight Brewster.

“The crazy thing” says Louie “is Dwight Brewster, he wrote that song – and he was in my uncle’s band on the first album.“ That uncle is Héctor Lavoe of course; the latin crooner who worked with the likes of Willie Cólon and Fania All Stars in congress with a successful solo recording career. Between his uncle and his father, an accomplished musician in his own right, Louie found a firm foundation from which to build his own musical dialect. His formative years in music had cemented something early on for Louie. “When it’s around you,” he says of the music, “it instils itself in your brain and in your ears and you start developing.” 

It seems this has gone full circle in the Vega family, with Louie’s son now showing the same kind of potential for music as a younger Louie did. As the son of an accomplished DJ, Nico Vega used to follow his father and mother around the globe as a kid, joining them for the likes of their various Ibiza residencies and Miami winter conferences, where daytime events allowed the younger Vega to be around them as they worked. “It’s always been in his blood and in his mind,” suggests Louie, but it seems he’d been pretty reserved about exploiting the family business.

Although he played piano and guitar, he never showed much interest in his father’s home studio, ironically called Daddy’s Workshop. It was “not until I invited him,” that Louie says he saw some potential in his progeny. After hearing him play and programme keys in the studio, Louie gave his son an Ableton studio setup from which he could explore this latent talent further. Louie “started hearing bass-lines and beats, and I was like what is going on, this sounds like records I would play.” It ended in Nico Vega actually mixing down a track on Expansions in the NYC. “It’s amazing… He learnt it on its own,” beams Louie like any proud father would. 

Later that evening Jaeger’s basement is filling and people are starting to press closer to the front. The air seems suddenly charged with something. Towards the back, where there’s more space, a crew of younger dancers, have been breaking out some fancy footwork the entire night, but even they seem to turn their attention to the DJ booth as people cheer on the guest of honour. Louie, wearing what has become his signature wide-brimmed hat, cuts in the first track and sets off. 

The crowd is a heady mixture of young and old, touching on most of Oslo’s cultural sectors, much like Louie’s music touches on those eclectic sounds of New York’s diaspora. I remember Louie’s last appearance at Jaeger and it’s a very similar crowd and I brought it up with him during our conversation earlier. “When you go to my parties it’s a mix,” he says happily and he’s become aware of the generational spectrum that occupies his dance floors. “That’s the way it is now,” he agrees. “I get the parents and the kids, which is beautiful.” Some of the parties he plays in New York, still bring out those original faces that followed him from the Bronx into the city all those years ago. “They kept on following me wherever I would go,” he claims. “Even to this day, some people that come to see me play in the clubs, they were there 40 years ago, it’s crazy.“

The main difference between then and now however is that Louie has a lifelong career as a DJ and producer and when it comes to House music records, the name Louie Vega and Masters at Work has become synonymous with the genre and he maintains that position by staying relevant, with an incredible enthusiasm that just won’t seem to wane. Does he ever feel he needs to stay contemporary though?

“I’m doing my own thing, and the goal is to create your own lane,” comes his reply. He has dominated that lane for his entire career, and his sound has become so intertwined in the sound of House music it’s often difficult to extricate the name Louie Vega with House music. As a recording artist, he’s “dedicated 35 years” of his life to the genre and from the first record he did in 1988 to his latest that dedication has been determined and consistent. 

It all started innocently enough for Louie. He was still cutting his teeth in New York’s club scene, playing his records to the dedicated few he brought with him from the Bronx, when record labels started noticing his skill. It was still a time when label heads and A&R guys would be visiting clubs to hear what works and what’s hot. “They always wanted to know who’s new and who’s happening,” and Louie ticked all those boxes for Joey Gardiner, the A&R man for the legendary label Tommy Boy records.

“There’s this record that I picked from Minneapolis, called Running by Information Society,” recalls Louie about their first meeting. Running “became the biggest record of that club and when we got the band to perform there was a line around the corner.” Joey Gardiner sought to licence the record for Tommy Boy and with Louie’s predilection for the dance floor in mind, enlisted the DJ for remix duties on the record. “I never remixed a record,” thought Louie at the time, “what am I gonna do? Gardiner said; Louie… just come into the studio and tell me what you hear.” Suddenly all these elements that Louie hadn’t heard on the original jumped out at him from the mixing console. “I heard all this movement,” remembers Louie gesturing in the air.

“Next thing you know, that record became huge and from there things started growing. I did another one for them, ‘What’s on your mind,’ and that was a pop hit.” It was Louie’s first foray in touching the charts with a House track but wouldn’t be the last. 

“I was doing pop music,” insists Louie, “but trying to give it a little dance thing.” Working from little more than a drum machine a keyboard, pop artists like Debbie Gibson started enlisting Louie for remix duties, and when Marc Anthony eventually called for Ride on the Rhythm, the success and cross-over appeal of that record, would lunch Louie Vega into the upper tier of recording artists and make him a household name across the globe.

Everything coalesced with Ride on the Rhythm including Masters at Work. It was right around that time that he first met Masters at Work partner, Kenny Dope. Louie tells the story:  “I was in the studio  for six months, I wanted him to make beats for some of the records and he ended up working on a lot of it. From there I was like we got this thing that feels good, let’s make a record from scratch and we did that Ride record on the B-side of Ride on the Rhythm. And I was like; there’s something here, it’s a different feeling- this happens when we’re together.” 

From there on Louie Vega only existed in the context of Masters at Work. They would continue remixing pop artists like Debbie Gibson and Marc Anthony, but these remixes would take on a different form, stripping back the originals to their essential parts and reconstructing them in what would become a uniquely Masters at Work sound. Louie and Kenny would “use the B-side of records and put Masters at Work dubs” on the other side which used little more than a hook.  

“Imagine hearing Britney Spears today,” explains Louie searching for the analogy, “and  there’s a dub in there that’s underground. That’s what we were doing. And then everybody wanted a Masters at Work mix.” And everybody is hardly an exaggeration. In the 1000’s of remix credits MAW enjoy, names like Michael Jackson and Diana Ross make regular appearances, and  with names like Bjørk and Ce Ce Pensiton dotted throughout, there was nothing that Louie and Kenny’s midas touch didn’t reach. 

It cemented the Masters at Work sound and also put those records in the hands of an ever changing audience. Coming across a MAW record today in a used shelf, it still elicits a special feeling, like you’re holding something of innate quality and extraordinary power. It’s the result of “working 14 hours a day for ten years,” according to Louie. “That’s why it had such an impact – it was a big body of work and it was consistent.” And there is still more to come from it. Recently Louie and Kenny have been unearthing a treasure trove of forgotten sessions from that time in a new series called MAW Lost Tapes.

“MAW lost tapes are all those old tapes from those ten years,” explains Louie. “We took them out of storage and as we looked through them we found new music we didn’t hear before.” Pieces of records that landed on the “don’t use” piles all those years ago are now being recontextualised in a series that’s 3 releases deep so far and has much more to give. 

It’s just another project in a never-ending stream of projects for Louie Vega. His work ethic is incorrigible and yet when you talk to him there’s effortless ease to the persona, like he’s just stepped off a beach somewhere. Making time for our conversation between a soundcheck and a dinner reservation, while trying to arrange a lost bag from the airline, Louie doesn’t wear even the slightest sign of stress on his entire demeanour. It’s something that he carries with him to the booth as well and its effect is infectious. There’s an enjoyment there that has diminished little and it encapsulates everything, from making records to playing records, and hearing a new sound system for the first time.

It’s hard to let him go, I could ask a million questions. We barely skate over his time during New York clubbing’s heyday, the creation of MAW and what it was like to win a Grammy. He talks in reverent tones about wife Anané’s music, label and their DJ collaboration for The Ritual – “That came by mistake” – and in the laundry list of names he praises, people like Larry Levan and Frankie Knuckles make regular appearances. There’s a humility there that seems unusual in the context of his own contributions to this music.

Listening to Louie later that evening in the basement, that affable nature permeates through the music, and its effect on the dance floor is visible. People crowd the booth, and at the end of the night, everybody is eager to get a picture with Louie Vega. He respects every request, a smile never leaving his face, and then he is off to his next appointment. 

Words by Misha Mathys

Free falling with Steffi

Steffi has been there at every stage of club music. From playing the dark bunkers in her native Netherland to that 5am slot at Berghain where she holds a residency, and then back to some obscure hole-in-the-wall in a  2nd city, Steffi’s range as a DJ extends far beyond the scope of whatever style-du-jour-box people try to place her in. There’s an instinctive quality that tugs at the core of the body and a sensibility that goes way beyond the immediacy of the beat. 

It’s something that extends to her work in the studio too, where she can deliver the enthusiasm of peak time at one end of the spectrum, or delve deep into the inner workings of her machine with scientific-like precision at the other end. At the core of her work is a innate understanding of the legacy of this machine music, hewed to a pristine perfection that has covered a fair few albums and Eps, most of which for Berghain’s Ostgut Ton imprint if not for her own labels, like Klakson, Dolly or the newly established Candy Mountain imprint. 

Candy Mountain marks a new chapter in Steffi’s career, coming at the same time as a permanent move for her and her partner Virginia to Portugal from Berlin and providing a platform for her latest LP and the first album outside of the Ostgut franchise, The Red Hunter. A label, studio, retreat and much more, Candy Mountain sits alongside Klakson and Dolly in Steffi’s extensive scope on club music. As an artist, Red Hunter took Steffi’s sounds on the borders of the dance floor with broken beats, and brooding synthesisers floating through the arrangements. Dedicated to her late mother, the record finds Steffi in a reflective and serene mood, without completely disengaging with the sound of her club sets. 

There’s a lot that’s in flux with the sound of Steffi’s sets at the moment and a lot in congruence with the sound of her Klakson label. Where Dolly took up most of her time during her tenure in Berlin it seems Klakson has focussed Steffi’s attention towards the sounds of Electro, EBM and the dance floor’s outlier genres. It’s taken up a clarion call for these genres and styles with artists like 214, Fastgraph and The Hacker contributing to the label alongside Steffi’s own contributions and her collaborative projects like Negroni Nails. 

Does this mark a new phase for Steffi, and how has her move to Portugal affected her music and her pursuits as a DJ? With these questions and more burning, we sent off an email to Steffi ahead of her appearance at Jaeger tonight. 

Let’s start with Candy Mountain, and your  move to Portugal. It seems like you are establishing an electronic music community down there with studios, a label, a retreat. What is the history behind Candy Mountain and what does it all entail?

We bought a house in Portugal in 2017 to spend our time between Berlin and the Portuguese countryside. In 2020 we wrapped up our lives in Berlin, ended up moving everything to Portugal permanently and we set up Candy Mountain. Candy Mountain is a label, studio space and creative hub. It is an artist-driven platform based here in the countryside of Portugal but operates on a global level. The studio sits in the middle of nature. artists can live and work under the same roof with zero distractions in a tranquil environment. The perfect space to work and also connect with the local scene in Portugal. we both feel that it’s important to give something back to the place we moved to and welcomed us so we hope to do so with this new concept

.I know you and Virginia had already been living between Portugal and Berlin in the past, but what inspired the permanent move?

We wanted to move eventually but covid 2019 came and we were in lock down in our house in Portugal and realized it was not going to be a small one so we decided to pack up Berlin as traveling up and down became impossible.

And from what I understand, it’s a little outside Lisbon, and somewhat remote. Why there?

Nature!

I know this might be a bit of an abstract thing, but do you think it’s had an effect on your music and anything in terms of DJing since the move?

It had a massive effect on my mindset in the positive sense. It’s much easier to unwind here than in a city and I am focussed on different things here. 

So far Candy Mountain is an exclusive vehicle for Steffi, but I assume that will change as the results of these musical residencies come to fruition. What’s going to be the first release from a guest artist and what’s going to be the process for selecting music for this label in particular; does it have to come out of that studio specifically?

CaMo002 will be a 12 inch by Tracing Xircles with an amazing D-Bridge remix! Nothing needs to come out of the studio in the end but it’s there if people want to come over and use it for a possible release. Locals or artists abroad. It’s all about options and making things happen in the end. The idea is all about collaborations with people we appreciate in our inner circle and opening the door to the scene here in Portugal.

Tell me a bit about the studio, because your Berlin studio was well documented in the past. Has it basically been transplanted from Berlin to Portugal and what if any fundamental changes have affected your workflow?

It’s basically a mirror from what I had as a set up in Berlin merged with Virginia’s studio. The workflow is pretty similar actually. On top of that, we have a great outdoor space for small parties and get-togethers and the ground floor is a super cosy studio apartment to stay in with a dj set up.

I am aware of the thematic concept behind Red Hunter in terms of a record dedicated to your mother, but was there a specific musical concept or goal behind it?

I have been writing this album over the last 3/4 years and the foundation of these songs were done in so many different settings and places rather than writing it in one go what I normally would do. Looking at it from a more conceptual aspect I really wanted to dive deeper into my rhythm sections and take that to a next level. More definition and detail was my main goal. Small melodies on top of complex and heavy beats. Rhythm becoming an melodic element. The red hunter, it’s the first track I have written in this particular vain/mood and also defines the sound of the whole album perfectly for me. When I finished this track I knew I wanted to write a whole album in around this song and it was clear where the sound needed to go. It gave me the kickstart of the whole creative process for this album basically.

Candy Mountain finds itself in what is already a busy label franchise from you, alongside Klakson and the Dolly suite of labels. Where does Candy Mountain fit into that spectrum in terms of sound and concept?

It has no stylistic boundaries so we can just jump and take a free fall :-)

How do you decide what gets the attention and what goes where, especially in terms of our own music?

Well klakson and dolly have shaped themselves up quite well during the last 20 plus years. Dolly is more house and techno related and klakson has always had a focus on electro so that line is quite clear. I don’t feature myself too much on those labels because I always wanted to release other people’s music and build up artists for those platforms. I have worked with ostgut ton for my solo stuff mostly and when it was time to spread my wings it was the perfect time to found a new imprint for my album with Candy Mountain.

It seems in recent years Klakson has also taken over a bit from Dolly in terms of your focus. I know you’ve said in the past Klakson is a label you’ll pick up when the time and the music is right for it. What is it about this period and the music you’re bringing out on the label that has encouraged this flurry of activity recently?

The beauty is that I can play around so much and one does not exclude the other. Important for me is though when there is nothing to tell on one label, it just takes a pause so it never loses quality but just takes a nap. klakson woke up because the time was right and had a lot to tell. It’s a great dynamic to juggle between brother and sister. Stay tuned because there will be some interesting new stuff coming on Dolly. She has new stories to tell. 

Photo by Stephan Redel

Personally, I feel that it is the perfect time for a label like Klakson to exist, with something a little more cognitive for the dance floor. And I feel from listening to your last LP and some of your recent mixes online, that you might feel the same. Where do your musical allegiances lie at the moment when it comes to what you’re listening to, playing and making?

My pallet is so wide when it comes to playing and making music. I find it very unattractive to focus on just one thing as my taste is simply too diverse. I am a music freak and I buy whatever I like to hear and play whatever I feel like. I love being able to have a side of me that produces and plays abstract electro, IDM and broken stuff and the other side that loves dance floor stuff like house and techno. It’s always been like this. It resonates on my labels, dj sets and through my productions and remixes. 

If we listen to an early track like Yours, and then most of Red Hunter there’s a clear distinction there, but then if you throw in a track like All living things from 2017 there’s an evolution too. As an artist how do you reflect on these different periods in relationship to where you are now musically?

Evolution. For me it’s a journey and I have dreams and goals and ideas on the horizon I wanna reach. All of what I have done so far are logical steps in my creative development. Like I said I love being able to go abstract and push the boundaries there but I also love to write straight up dance floor stuff. Over the years as a producer I became more and more skilled to be able to do that and this is amazing for my creative expression.

Is there any relationship to the music you’re making today compared to what you were listening to and playing back when you started in the Netherlands as a DJ and promoter?

Yes, I knew all along that one day I wanted to make an album like the red hunter one day and of course the musical influences shape you as a producer big time.

What was your focus back then in terms of music and how did it inform what would become a  career? 

The passion of music has been the main drive. Always. I never had any plans to be making money from dj-ing or producing music. This all went gradually to be honest. I do have to say when I moved to Berlin in 2007 I was aware that this could be a possibility for me to drop my work as a free-lance graphic designer and live off of my dj gigs but even then I wasn’t focussed on dj-ing being a career. Is it a career or am I just doing what I love most, making music, throwing parties, dj-ing and releasing other people’s music? When it all gets serious, yes it becomes a business but the main focus is and will always be music, music and music. 

Going from somewhere like the south of the Netherlands to Berlin and then to somewhere remote like Candy Mountain, is there a sense of coming full circle for you and what’s the biggest fundamental change for you as an artist and DJ between those early days and now?

I am from a small town in the south of Holland and I could not wait to move to the city when I was 19 because it was suffocating me big time. I lived in Australia in 1996-1997, then Amsterdam for 10 years and then Berlin for 13 years and at some point I closed a certain city life chapter for me and really wanted to be in nature and moved to a village with 200 people. How ironic hahahahah!. That’s quite the full circle journey I’d say. like technology, the biggest game changer in the scene. For example virtual reality and the global impact it has. Quantity over quality, visibility over anonymity, virtual reality over living in the moment. So on so on so on ;-)

Ok Steffi, that’s all the questions I have. Thank you for indulging me and I only have one more request. Can you play us out with a song?

Last Days Of Innocence by Driven By Attraction

I can’t pick just one song, because I love the whole EP!! :

17th of May – Full-lineup released

With a whole host of guests, including an international visit, this year’s 17th of May promises to be like no other.

Away from the honking brass of marching bands, tucked in an alley just beyond the slow moving procession of Norwegian banners, Jaeger offers a brief dalliance with a dance floor. A dance floor filled with everything from Brunader to sneakers, in a sunny courtyard in May, with soundsystem contirubuting to the festive noise that swathes the city for Norway’s National day.

This year is a little different… with a national holiday the next day, allowing us to extend the annual DJ marathon a little longe into the night with more DJs than ever, including a visit from Skatebård and DJ Boring on the same day. We kick off from 12:00 in the courtyard and pace ourselves throughout with some of our closest friends joining our residents across the two floors.

You can see the full lineup below as well as on the official event.  We’re doing limited guestlist spots for those that want to secure entry early, so please contact us at info@jaegeroslo.no for more information.

Gården

12:00 Kash & MC Kaman
15:00 Anders Hajem, Henrik Villard, Perkules (Boring Club Records)
17:00 Olle Abstract
18:00 Guy, Fritz, Nordiks (Futoria, French Voyage)
21:00 Skatebård
23:00 Dara
00:00 g-HA & Olanskii

Diskon
21:00 Mapusa
22:00 Synne
23:00 Ole HK & Normann
01:00 DJ Boring

Share your soul with Chez Damier

Chez Damier’s legacy is dotted through the history of club music. From its early days in Chicago to its heyday in Detroit and its satellite adventures in New York, Chez Damier was there. What started on the dance floor went on to the booth and beyond as he became an uncompromising epitome in the nascent sound of House music with tendrils of influence that extended towards styles like proto-Techno and to new regions like Paris. 

He played pivotal roles in the creation of  KMS (Kenny Saunders’ label), the legendary Music Institute in Detroit and the Belleville Three (Techno’s original figureheads) before going on to establish his own path with Ron Trent in the creation of the now legendary Prescription and Balance Records. Besides contributing to some of the label’s biggest releases like Foot Therapy and Morning Factory, the labels also offered a platform for the likes of Romanthony and Stacey Pullen, from which they went on to achieve greatness.

Chez Damier’s contributions to dance music in its earliest forms were fundamental to the development of the scene and its eventual popularity. By the late nineties he and Ron Trent had been installed in the annals of House music as legends, but such was Chez Damier’s integrity and dedication to the music that when he could have easily cashed in on his popularity he instead took an hiatus. When Ibiza and festival stages came calling, it was so far removed from those humble beginnings, that he took some time off and waited out the storm.

After what would become a lengthy absence, he came back even more determined and more enthusiastic. He took up Balance records where he left off, established House of Chez alongside, and immersed himself back in the scene as a DJ and an artist. As a producer that always sought that collaborative artistic process he has engaged with many new and exciting producers, establishing projects like Heart 2 Heart, and channelling that impetuous spirit of House music’s origins into the present for the next generation.

He is, needless to say, an accomplished and seasoned DJ with the accolades of a veteran in his field and yet he is still buoyed by that enthusiasm of his 15 year-old self, discovering House music for the first time. His sets are undeniably unique in today’s landscape and as he prepares another for Jaeger we caught with the DJ, producer and label owner to find out more. He talks about those early days; his hand in coining the term Techno; new beginnings; and having that last dance with Frankie Knuckles.

*Chez Damier plays ByPåskefestivalen this Wednesday

Hello Chez. It’s truly an honour to be speaking to you. I believe we’re catching you at an interesting period with the new label House of Chez and a lot of new music coming from you. Is there something particular about this time and place that‘s inspiring these new projects?

Yes, it’s a new generation. With a new generation there’s always new inspiration. So, new inspiration and being able to continue to sow back into the community or the culture that we’ve worked so hard to keep going.

House of Chez alludes to your interest in fashion. I’m reminded of something that Sadar Bahar told me; that House music was a lifestyle more than a genre of music back at its beginnings. Is this you bringing these two worlds together again and where is crossover for you in these two creative outlets?

Yes, since I started out, I’ve been inspired by the fashion aspect, so now I’m going to incorporate that in probably doing some merchandising, some shirts and t-shirts. I think it’s a full circle for me in particular, more than anyone else.

I believe there’s a Heart 2 Heart album on the way too. What can you tell us about it and what does it represent in terms of where you are at the moment in terms of the music that inspires you?

That’s like my baby now. That’s the first album project that I’ve ever worked on. It’s just special all the way around. I can’t tell you if there is anything particularly special, but the sessions were amazing. It was all written and recorded in Paris over a four and a half year period; going to Paris four and five times a year, for about a week at a time. So, it was a long process because of the distance. We never once brought the project into our own world, only when we came together. H2H is a super special project for me. 

This new project is you working with another artist again. You’ve worked with so many people in the past, and some legendary figures to boot. How is H2H different, and how is it the same as the other collaborations?

Actually to be honest with you, the only thing that changes when working on this project or collaborating with other people, is that you grow. So you learn how to put the egos down, you learn how to put the muscle flexing down, you learn how to cohesively understand people’s energy, and that’s something only time could have taught me. Especially someone who has as much energy as you, so this makes it more special than all the other ones. 

Funny enough, I was talking to MK about doing a mix on this project, because he was the first person I was a student of and it was kind of funny talking to him about my first new album project versus the very first time we worked together. What makes it special this time around, is maturing. 

In H2H’s case your partner is somebody with strong Techno associations. Back in the day there was a lot more of a fluid approach between dance floor genres, and over the years it’s gotten more reductive. As somebody with a foothold in both the origins of House and Techno, how do you get around those strict parameters, especially today?

Actually technically, I’m probably the first in the electronic business to combine House and Techno. Because my roots were in Chicago, dance culture was also in New York, but my experience of music was in Detroit. So, Detroit is where I learnt my sound, and its combination (of all that). I don’t get around it actually, I just look at it as energy. Here’s what I want to do, I want to share my soul. I know it could be easy to follow the trends and do the 3 seconds hands up in the air. I just refuse to do it. If I have to do it, I quit. Don’t get me wrong, the person who has energy has energy from the start. I like it all, and I’m always going to incorporate it in my music and my sets. 

You’ve not only been a part of a scene, but actually helped establish it. What keeps you motivated and drives the momentum in your creativity and work these days?

It’s always knowing that you don’t know. It’s always having the wish that you want to try something you haven’t tried before. It’s also learning more about your energy and how to work with other people’s energy. So, to me that’s the inspiration. I’m not an on-demand artist, I’m not a machine. So when God gives me the inspiration to do something, I’m just doing it. I’m just being a vessel at this point. 

I know you took a little break from it all back in the early 2000’s and I admire your resolve at that time in not going down the hyper-commercial rabbit hole. Ultimately it was the right decision, but what brought you back into the fray? 

What brought me back is this young artist out of Paris named Brawther. He brought me back, because he made me realize the initial mission was never completed. When me and Ron started Prescription records, it was the intention to find like-minded artists like us, we created Balance to be that extended service of artists that also were motivated and inspired by different sounds. When we divided, I shut the whole thing down. So it was always like cutting something off and never seeing the continuation of it. Years later, Brawther gave me the inspiration to realize it wasn’t over. 

What was the hardest part of coming back into it?

There was no hard part at all. It was very welcoming, thanks to Red Bull, thanks to Cyber distribution in Paris, thanks to my publisher in Paris. All of these people were very supportive, encouraging me to either reissue things or come back into the game. These people made it possible for me to do it without being stressful. I have Secret Sundaze to thank, because Secret Sundaze were also responsible for letting me be the first one to sign to their agency. That was really inspiring to work with them. 

I heard it mentioned that you actually coined the original and first Virgin “Techno” compilation record, which went on to label that whole sound as Techno. Do you remember the circumstances around that and your involvement with that legacy?

Yes, I was the one that suggested it to be called Techno. I was just joining KMS at the time, and Derrick (May) was one of my DJs and the music institute. It was just like being ahead of my time, understanding what Juan Atkins was doing and trying to create something that I thought would collectively speak for what was happening at the time. Yes, along with Neil Rushton, I was the one that made the suggestion that we call it the Techno album. Many people don’t know that.

Do you have any regrets today in how Techno has been adopted as this kind of catch-all term that has somewhat gentrified the esoteric origins of that original Detroit sound?

I don’t really like what’s happened in Detroit today, to be quite honest with you. Because Detroit has narrowed the focus to Techno when it was a music capital since the beginning of time. I just don’t like where it’s going, I don’t like the whole kind of ”this is our situation,” when it took many people. It’s like; if you don’t understand the history, you don’t understand the future.

You were there for those seminal moments of House music’s creation from Chicago to New York. What were some of the key experiences for you personally during that time?

Actually it wasn’t even about personal experiences. It was about the newness. We were all fascinated by the fact that there were music bars and conferences that were built around this new music that we were being a part of. It was really inspiring to be face to face with other artists that were behind it. We didn’t have press at that time to show who these artists were. So when we were going to Chicago or New York it was always amazing to finally meet, greet or see these other artists. It was a very inspiring time, at least for me. 

As somebody with this incredible legacy that you have, and the experiences you have from the booth, what were the most fundamental changes you’ve experienced in the scene over the years and what are some of your thoughts on where we are today compared to when you started?

One of the things that I would love to see more of when I have the pleasure to play, is people engaging and enacting with each other more, being inspired by one another. This will always be amazing to me. The things I don’t particularly care about, is what I see at a festival level. This quick sensation that people are getting for this peak moment, is complete suicide, if you ask me. To me, at the end of the day I don’t find it edifying. At the time, I think it’s going to cause some future problems. 

Listening to a Chez Damier set today, Is there an element of something that people would find instantly familiar as Chez Damier, even as you play music from others?

Yeah, I mostly play music from others, and I’m still playing demos from myself, so people don’t know it’s me until they ask me. For me it’s more or less the same. In the beginning, I played more classics, because it was something that I had to prove my roots. This time I actually have the freedom. Before I was coming in with all my guns, but now I get the chance to tell a story. I think over time, people will be able to recognize me by the energy I bring and not necessarily about what they see.

Communicating with an audience is essential to the DJing experience and for that there’s usually a common ground between them and you. How do you maintain that connection with audiences that keep getting younger and younger and what other factors do you feel you are constantly having to adapt to as a DJ today?

I always put myself in their position. I was fifteen years old when I first got mesmerized by House music, and I was sixteen years old when I had my first Frankie Knuckles experience. So for me, I’m just giving back what I was given. It’s easier to relate to a younger audience when you can remember when you were young. 

And besides that… what are you packing these days in terms of music and are there any records you’re particularly eager to bring to Oslo and Jaeger in a couple of weeks time?

Apart from a couple of cuts from the new album, just my presence, I’m eager to bring. And hopefully the spirit of Frankie Knuckles, because the last dance with Frankie k was in Oslo 9 years ago , which is also the anniversary of his passing. So for me, it’s an emotional moment, this year in particular. So it should be exciting. 



Bypåskefestivalen 2023

The full lineup for Bypåskefestivalen 2023 at Jaeger will include Chez Damier, Dan Shake, Traumer and Funky Loffe

Apres ski in the city with a whole load of bass. We descend from the mountain slopes to the heart of the city, where a wall of sound awaits. Insulated in the warmth of our funktion one system our basement cabin offers a refuge in sound for the city dwellers and nocturnal pariahs. We host a weekend of uncompromising talents for our annual Bypåskefestivalen again at Jaeger. Featuring guest appearances by Dan Shake, Funky Loffe, Traumer and House legend Chez Damier,  alongside our residents and their local guests. See the full lineup below and head over to facebook for more event info

05.04 Bypåskefestivalen:
Chez Damier
Prins Thomas (6h set)
O. Blom

06.04 Helt Texas!:
Traumer
Normann + Ole HK
Capodanna + Ida B + Sondre

07.04 Skranglepåske x Frædag:
Dan Shake
Oskar Pask + Petter Celius + Umulius
g-HA & Olanskii

08.04 LYD:
Funky Loffe + Olle Abstract
MC Kaman + Kash

09.04 Foot Food x BCR:
g-HA & Olanskii + Vinny Villbass + diskJokke
Anders Hajem + Henrik Villard + Perkules

10.04 Mandagsklubben:
André Bravo + Thomas Sol + Jennifer Bravo

 

Slindre’s heart beats for House – in conversation with DELLA

Hi all, DELLA here. This week I took the opportunity to chat with, Slindre (formally Snurrebass), an up and coming House DJ and founder of Norway’s fiercest queer club night <LOKOMOTIV>. This Saturday, he will be joining me in the basement for Della’s Drivhus and together we are going to set the club on FIRE. Are you ready to get your groove on? I am!

Slindre, thank you for taking the time to chat with me. Let’s get down to business. 

I am so excited for Saturday! Can’t actually believe that I’m going to play at Æ with you!! A friend of a friend attended your event in Gøteborg a couple of weeks ago and absolutely loved it. I’ve never played B2B with anyone before, but hey, it’s gonna be fun to do it for the first time with you. 

You and I just recently met and our love of House music made us instant friends. Please, can you tell us more about who Slindre is? 

Slindre’s heart beats for House music and melodic techno. I love a groovy bassline, cheeky lyrics and soulful vocals. And I live for sweaty dance floors. 

How long have you been DJing?

I ordered my first DJ gear in January 2022, so that makes it one year and three months to be exact. 

What made you want to begin DJing?

I’ve been listening to House, disco and techno for as long as I can remember. Music has always been a source of happiness and a sense of freedom for me. I’m always searching for new music. I love the feeling when I discover music that makes my jaw drop and gives me chills from head to toe. The last couple of years I started to get more and more fascinated with how DJs managed to build up sets like stories, with a narrative and exciting twists and turns. I wanted to start DJing quite some time before I actually did, I guess it was something as boring as janteloven that held me back. But, luckily that wasn’t enough to stop me from going for it. I was immediately hooked. 

You formally went by DJ alias Snurrebass, why did you decide to change your artist name to Slindre?

Hehe, well. When I got my first gigs last spring, I couldn’t completely own that I was a DJ, and Snurrebass had a kind of an ironic twist to it. Now I don’t feel the need to distance myself from being a DJ anymore, so Slindre just feels more right. 

Who are the producers & DJs that inspire you most?

I keep finding new inspiration almost daily. There is almost too much good music out there! But, I definitely draw inspiration from Honey Dijon, Todd Terry, Dennis Quin, Green Velvet, Mr. G, Superlover and Saison. Lately, I’ve also been listening to Roy Rosenfeld quite a bit. He produces really smooth and beautiful downtempo tracks that move me emotionally.

Do you produce music?

Not yet! But I am definitely planning to. 

You are the founder of the new HOT queer concept LOKOMOTIV. Can you tell our readers more about your club night? 

LOKOMOTIV is a passion project created by me and my husband for lovers of electronic music and dancing. Everyone is welcome at LOKOMOTIV, but our target audience is gay guys. So far, it’s been a massive success with a packed dance floor on all four events. It’s been a blast! We even took the event to Stavanger in March. Check us out on Instagram @lokomotivclub

What inspired you to start Lokomotiv? 

Well, there were two reasons. Firstly, we wanted to create a club concept we ourselves felt was missing in Oslo. Secondly, in the beginning it wasn’t easy getting gigs at my favorite clubs. LOKOMOTIV became an opportunity for me to share my passion for music with a big crowd.  

Do you feel there is a lack of queer club nights in Norway?

Yes! That’s why we started LOKOMOTIV. We’ve been saying for years that there aren’t enough queer club nights, so instead of sitting at home complaining, we decided to do something about it. 

Why do you feel it is important to showcase queer artists in music? 

Representation is important everywhere. But when it comes to House music, club culture and queer history, they share an important bond. The underground clubs were a place for queer people to get together, party and be themselves long before we could do so openly. I play music with a lot of gay references in different ways, mostly because it’s really good music, but also as a nod to gay and queer history.  

What are your thoughts on current social issues such as USA wanting to restrict drag?

It makes me sad. 

Have you personally experienced any obstacles being gay and being an artist?

No, not at all! And I don’t expect that to happen either. 

Do you work full-time as a DJ? What is your day job?

I’m a psychologist, specializing in family and couples therapy. So that’s really a contrast to grooving it out in the DJ booth. 

Do you intertwine the two into your music? 

Haha, well. I can’t say that I do. Not directly, anyway. The common factor is that I have a passion for both. And that both therapy and DJing a set is a process, which hopefully leave you feeling better with yourself and the people around you at the end of it. 

Other than the obvious (LOKOMOTIV), what is a favourite club / club concept you’ve experienced?

Oh, tough question. Some of my best nights out have been in NYC. I think I’m gonna say Battle Hymn, by Ladyfag. Elli Escobar is a resident and he is someone I hope to book for LOKOMOTIV one day.

Tell us what we can expect this Saturday in your set at Della’s Drivhus.

You can expect one very excited DJ who’s going to play the House music you didn’t know you needed. It’s going to be impossible for you to stand still.

Any upcoming gigs or events you would like to inform our readers about? 

We have many exciting plans for LOKOMOTIV in 2023. The next event will be in May and is going to be something special. I’m also looking forward to Pride at the end of June. I can’t disclose specifics just yet, but let’s just say that it’s going to be a good week for those of us who enjoy House music.  

 

I look forward to sharing the booth together at Della’s Drivhus! Together we are definitely going to create nothing but pure, rainbow vibes. It is going to be good fun, especially our B2B set. ❤️

 

Check out more of Slindre’s music here:

Have a listen to my opening set for my former guest, Mood II Swing. What a night! 

See you all on the dancefloor this Saturday. 

Follow me on my socials to stay updated! 

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/djdella_official/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/djdella

Kisses, 

DELLA

Intergalactic sounds with Alienata

Alienata occupies a unique space in the world of Techno with an all-encompassing approach that encapsulates everything from IDM to Electro. She’s thrived in the culture’s underground corners since taking to the decks in 2004, where she’s carved out a sound in sets that span “obscure electro, ACID, dub, IDM, dark disco, jakbeat, hypnotic techno, industrial atmospheres, break beats, cosmic jazz , UK electro, Detroit and Chicago” influences.  Traversing the outer regions of club music, Alienata truly channels an inter-galactic language through her musical tastes.

Originally from Spain, Alienata has been residing in Berlin since 2011 where she joined the Killekill (Krake festival) family on her journey to become one of the city’s most dedicated figures. Admired for her approach to club music, her sets pulsate with the energy of the dance floor as she pushes the dynamics across the whole spectrum of club music.  From the furthest recesses of Techno’s reach where artists like Aphex Twin reside to the functional club constructs that motivates movement, Alienata has a very unique approach to her selections. 

It’s not often that Biosphere and Neil Landstrumm are mentioned in the same breath, but like her sets, Alienata is both, not obvious, and distinct in her musical designs. It trickles down from her sets, to her production and her label, Discos Atónicos, where she has channelled her musical tastes into an equally determined platform over the last 5 years. Although versatile, she maintains a unique sound which is hard to pin down to one specific element and it’s through this that she stands out in the larger Techno landscape. 

Ahead of her appearance at Jaeger tomorrow night, we caught up with the DJ, producer and label honcho for further insight into her musical tastes and her approach to DJing and music. 

Hey Alienata. Where are you at this moment and what are you listening to right now?

Hello : )

At this moment I’m enjoying touring a lot! I’m having great experiences & connections in all the places I visit. In terms of listening 

I’ve read somewhere that you’re a fan of Biosphere. That obviously resonates with us here in Norway. To me, a record like Patashnik is one of those perfect records to play after a night out. Do you have a record like that; something you like to put on after a particularly good night?

Yeah, I deeply love Biosphere!

And regarding your question I think Substrata is that record I always found perfect to listen to after a good gig (or even after a bad gig! haha) Another one: Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin. 

I often hear Aphex in your sets too. Where is the crossover between the music you listen to at home and the music you play out?

Well, when I’m at home I tend to listen to slow beats, downtempo, I love that flow so much. Obviously “that flow” influences me when I make my musical selections. 

Versatile would be an understatement when considering your music and DJing and yet there’s something there that ties it all together. What is that fundamental element in your musical tastes in terms of making and playing music?

I think that fundamental element is a mix of galactic sounds, a sense of funk & groove & and a touch of psychedelia.

What first planted the seed for these musical tastes to develop and when was that? 

I used to help a friend who distributed records to most of the DJs in my city. First in a record store and then he would do it from home and I would give him a hand. I spent all my time listening to all kinds of music. I didn’t care about the genres or styles. were being trained without my realising it.

Has it always been about electronic music or was there a point or event that initially brought you to the sounds of synthesisers and drum machines?

Let’s just say that I have always loved rhythm and atmospheres, since I was a child. I used to listen to classical & psychedelic music all the time when I was about 12/13 years old. It was a kind of therapy for me. Through sound I was inspired to write and build parallel worlds where I could escape from reality. There were a lot of problems at home and I needed to transcend them in some way. Music has always had that “magic” component in my life.

Was there a big community of kindred spirits in Valencia when you were discovering this music and how did it influence your own evolution from fan to DJ? 

Totally! Actually I am originally from Murcia (not Valencia!) and yes, I have always had the good fortune to surround myself with spirits who were quite advanced in every sense of the word. Not only in electronic music, but also in krautrock, post punk or wave. Let’s say that when I discovered the language of music I did it almost in a shamanic way. 

How did you get into DJing and what do you remember of those initial experiences behind a set of decks?

It all happened when I was living with my friend who I was helping distribute records (I mentioned before) He had a brutal collection of vinyl, all kinds of stuff. We were all the time listening to music. And my curiosity grew and grew, so when I was alone at home, I used to sneak into “the magic room”, pick up records randomly (because I knew I was always going to discover something interesting) and start playing. And I would practise for myself, without anyone knowing it. It was almost a ritual for me. 

Were you exploring those bridges between IDM, Electro, Techno and EBM right from the start and what did you establish in your approach to DJing even back then?

I never had any barriers when I started to play music. Everything that fit or caught the attention of my ears had a place in my initial sessions. I didn’t care about styles. I could fit in the same session some Neil Landstrumm with Miles Davis’ Doo Boop and many other things in between. The music, beyond the styles, had a strength, a way of telling stories that in my way of understanding the sound at that time fit in. A bit mystical I would say.

Has it evolved in any significant way since then?

Of course, it has evolved in terms of knowledge. But the spirit is the same. 

I assume Djing remains your first love.

I deeply love to play music, from the deepest part of my heart. It’s the language with which I have learned to communicate with the world. Sometimes complicated to explain in words!

…and Discos Atónicos a close second?

Discos Atónicos is my baby.

I was previously involved in other record labels with my other collectives but in the end I was always left with the feeling that I couldn’t do 100 percent of what I wanted to do.

So after years and when I felt the time was right, I started with Discos Atónicos, Being my own boss and having all the freedom to edit whatever I wanted to edit. 

When you do make a track or remix something, is there an instinct to try and express a similar sound or mood in these pieces and how would you describe that mood or sound?

If I’m honest I don’t usually have a certain mood in my head when I make music but it’s true that there are certain patterns that I repeat: the broken rhythms, the atmospheres a bit dramatic, the bleeps and… I love pads! I need depth in some way. 

In an interview from 2019 you said you were in the process of re-inventing yourself. What was the reason behind this re-invention and what did it entail or lead to?

I believe that in the end, life is a process of reinventing oneself all the time. I have a terrible fear of boredom! I could say now, in 2023, that I am still in the process of reinvention and I hope it never ends! I say this with all the positivity in the world. 

When I think of Techno (and maybe this is just a generational thing) I tend to think of the kind of music people like you play. But Techno’s popularity has brought new, not always positive connotations to the genre. What are your personal experiences in the scene regarding Techno’s popularity today?

It is a bit confusing at times. Suddenly you hear “techno” everywhere. in clothing stores, on buses, at the dentist’s office! Even my mother suddenly has techno notions!  It has become something “popular” indeed and with it has come mediocrity, banality & sometimes pure entertainment.

I guess the popularity of the genre is certainly beneficial to everybody playing or making the style, but in general terms it seems to have marginalised the original counter-cultural spirit for the sake of a business model. As somebody that represents the former to me, how are you able to find  your place in this paradigm shift today?

Of course it has its benefits, at this moment in my life I can make a living from it, something that would not have been possible in the past. For me the most important thing is not to lose one’s own essence.  Don’t sell your soul. Keeping real for real. Keeping curious. Sometimes I get the feeling that it is almost an extravagance to say that but it is crucial. I feel it’s almost a kind of mission, to educate the ears, the fantasy, the magic of rhythm. I want to share everything I have learned (and am still learning) along the way. 

Where do you see it going, because at some point I think we’ll have to start making a distinction, by the time Beyoncé brings out a Techno LP at least?

Techno is like Pop Music, yes. Even writing this sentence I find it hard to believe, but it’s true. To be honest, I am a bit confused about this… but at the end of the day I always find originality, hybrids and fusions of styles which, although in a more accessible way, still seem interesting to me. 

What does this all mean in terms of finding new music or do you find yourself turning more to older records and re-issues?

I always check all kinds of music. There are a lot of current sounds that I love. I think that in the middle of all that we were talking about, there is quite a lot of quality, at least if you know where to look for it. And the reissues are also good, and of course, I always keep an eye on them, you always rediscover things that you might have missed at another time!

Quality is the key, old, new, whatever!

It seems more important than ever now for labels like Discos Atónicos to exist. What are some of the challenges of releasing a record today in the contemporary landscape and how do you overcome them?

It is definitely becoming more and more complicated in terms of economics and waiting times.

Especially for underground labels. In my case there is even an extra complication because I self-distribute it. Prices have risen sharply since the pandemic times.Shipping costs have gone up. 

Everything has become more expensive, shops are buying less copies… it is a loop. I am currently considering releasing more material digitally and limiting the series on vinyl. After all, as a consumer I use digital a lot, I love bandcamp. 

What keeps you motivated in terms of releasing records and keeping the label going?

My motivation is always to share music that somehow feels timeless, fresh, with quality.

Things that I would immediately play and that I will never get tired of listening to.

One way or the other, I’m always lucky to find what fits in my label. Sounds that give me goosebumps. Tracks that are like little movies. Artists who I admire so much or new artists that I just discovered and I can feel their potential and I want to give that opportunity.

So you create a kind of small family.

And playing this music to an audience?

That’s a fantastic feeling. When you know something is good and you can’t wait to share it!

Thank you for taking the time to talk to us Elena. One last request. Can you play us out with a song?

Ohhh only one???

Then my choice is Underground Resistance – Death of My Neighborhood

A beauty. 

Thanks for having me!

 

In the Twilight Zone with Anthony Rother 

To say Anthony Rother is prolific would be an understatement. Whether releasing EPs and 12 inches for the likes of Marcel Dettmann’s Bad Manners label or extensive (21 tracks) albums like AI Space via his Bandcamp page, the German artist’s output is unyielding. It’s built on an unrelenting work ethic that serves Anthony Rother as a self-contained artistic universe, complete with world-building concepts and a distinctive sound. From his online jam sessions to his hybrid Electro sets, there’s a determined purpose before he even lays a finger on the record button with an ideology that’s deeply rooted in the sound and aesthetics of Electro.

Anthony Rother has been at it since the mid nineties and after releasing his debut LP Sex with the machines, he’s been championing the sounds of the Electro genre for a whole generation. He became a prominent figure in the electronic underground in the early 2000’s with legendary records like Hacker and Popkiller combining his love for dark impulsive rhythms and humanoid vocals channelled from the formative experiences of listening to Kraftwerk. He established Datapunk during this time, a label that launched the careers of many established artists before the business end of the music all but consumed Anthony’s efforts and he took a break from music altogether around 2008. 

In the process of getting some distance from the industry, he came back to making music eventually, and in a big way. Today his output schedule rivals some of his most productive years of his early career, and with a sincere and dedicated approach to Electro, Anthony Rother is more determined than ever. He is always working on music with an endless wealth of creativity spurring the artist and producer  forward.  His pursuits towards new avenues of exploration in the Electro paradigm have taken to extremes of the genre’s stylistic traits. 

When it comes to Anthony’s music it’s pure Electro, but it’s never complacent. Always striving for something new in his music, Anthony is propelled to new frontiers and each production only functions as a way to the next. In seeking new languages in this machine music, he is always one step ahead of his curve.  Albums like AI Space capture these musical developments in intricate and expansive Sci-Fi tableaus while his hybrid Electro set seeks to find a bridge between Electro and the club. It’s a self-contained musical world that he has created through his music and ever since he came back to this music, Anthony Rother has extended this immersive universe. 

We caught up with Anthony Rother via telephone call to talk about this world he’s developed and his approach to Electro. Our conversation drifts into AI, Offenbach and his hiatus, but it always returns to Anthony’s first love, Electro and his eternal quest for a fresh take on the genre. 

Anthony  Rother plays a Hybrid Electro set  at jaeger this Friday.

Mischa Mathys: Where are you at the moment?

Anthony Rother:  I’m here in Frankfurt in Offenbach. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Offenbach; it’s the town where the Robert Johnson club is located.

MM: Yes, I’m familiar. We’ve had a few guests from your neck of the woods at Jaeger in the past. People like Roman Fluegel, Ata and Gerd Janson. 

AR: Yes, these guys are from Frankfurt but Robert Johnson is in Offenbach. 

MM: And your studio is also there?

AR: Yes, it’s in the old Logic Records building, a record company from the eighties and nineties which released Snap! amongst other things.They owned the building and that’s where I have my studio. Roman also had his studio there. It’s a very famous place and has a bit of history in the electronic music scene.

Logic entrance

MM: Does it still have a musical community around it, or is it like everywhere else at the moment, every man is an island?

AR: Yeah, every man is an island. I can only speak for myself, but I go there I make my music and I leave. When I was in this building in the 2000’s, I had more to do with people on the other floors, but now I’m more concentrated in making music, than having fun, and drinking and making parties. I think my interests have shifted a little more to a different place. You know how it is?

MM: As you get older, your priorities change, right?

AR: Of course, yes. (laughs)

MM: But the music never changes?

AR: No, the music stays the same. I think today I’m more focussed on music than when I was younger. 

MM: You’ve had such a prolific output, and it was a bit difficult for me to find an entry point for the sake of this interview, but I thought we could start with Bad Manners 9, which came out last year. It feels like it is a bit of an outlier to what I’ve come to know as the Anthony Rother sound in recent years.

AR: Bad Manners does not reflect what I do today. The EP is an EP that me and Marcel (Dettman) put together. 

MM: It was only a brief dalliance with this style of music.

AR: You can’t say that either; because over the last ten years I’ve always worked on four on the floor tracks and experimented with these kinds of tracks, but I didn’t release the material. I just started releasing in 2017 again, with tracks on Danny Daze’s Omni Disc label. Since then they all reflect a continuous Electro style searching for a sound that works well in the club and has much energy. What I do today is purely based in Electro and writing about human problems in a digital computer language. 

MM:  Considering these concepts of human stories in a robot language in your work I also find you recontextualise them in a dystopian universe, but how do you arrive at these worlds; Do they come from books, movies, music or is it something that happens naturally at this point?

AR:  If you see my artistic life as this evolving thing, I would say that on my debut album Sex with the Machines, I was heavily influenced by Electro from the eighties, like Karftwerk and of course sci-fi movies. It was a melange of all of this. I’ve invented some kind of language for myself based on my influences that I recreate every time I work on a new album. It’s not something that I have to work at, it comes natural to me. 

MM: Is it rooted in something in your subconscious at this point and does it start with the music or at a point when you start adding lyrics or vocals to your music?

AR: Mostly it starts with the music. When I’m working on an album, I’ll have a title for the album and at this point I’ll form the ideas. Let’s take AI space (the latest album), it’s an evolution of artificial intelligence that we are witnessing now. When I started writing this album, AI wasn’t such a mainstream theme as it is now. It was the stuff of nerds. I did some research on it and got ideas for stories or personal experiences that I coat in this kind of language. It’s a back and forth, but it starts with the music, then I get a theme, and from this topic I derive all the other things. 

MM: Tell me a bit about your research into AI for this album. What conclusions did you draw about the future of AI?

AR: I must be careful about what I say about the reality of the situation, because I’m an artist. I’m not a professional AI programmer, so my knowledge as an artist is to paint a picture and to discuss it in an artistic way. It’s a mainstream question, and I don’t have an opinion, because you can approach the answer in different ways. It’s a diverse subject for an artist though and you can either paint a dystopian picture of an AI that takes over a world or on the opposite end a utopian world where an AI is our digital butler. 

MM: But do you have any thoughts on the reality of AI in terms of music?

AR: So, if we debate AI making music, does AI replace me as a musician? I’ve thought  about it, but I don’t feel threatened. Everything that is standard music is threatened because AI is very good at learning. So for me as an artist it’s very important that my music is so special, and so forward-thinking so that AI can’t reproduce this as a cliché. But as soon as I release it, it gets into the learning stream of the AI and I have to advance myself again. I’m always in a kind of race with AI. 

MM: Have you experimented at all with AI in making music yet?

AR: I have tried it, not in terms of making music, just to see what it will do. I asked an AI to make music like Musique Non Stop from Kraftwerk.  And it proposed 4 tracks to me. Most of them had an Electro beat, but it was nothing like Musique Non Stop, because Musique Non Stop is such a unique piece of music that it was impossible to reproduce it.

Personally I would not use AI, because making the music is the first and the best thing, the result is just the last step. Making the music is the most fun. 

MM: My experience with AI is that it lacks the imagination in that process to get to the end result, and I think this is something that is particularly unique to your music. It’s almost like you create these fantasy worlds that you are able to escape into when you make music.

AR: Exactly. In German we say, the way is the goal.

MM: I like what you said about having to be one step ahead of AI to stay progressive. In the scope of the Electro paradigm, and the stylistic traits of that music; How has it developed through your own artistic pursuits?

Anthony Rother

AR: That’s a hard question, because there have been so many phases and I’ve worked on so many different aspects of it. I’m still working on it, because in the last few years I’ve been trying to produce a kind of Electro that could be played in the club, and has the energy of Techno, but is still considered a 100% Electro. 

My plan is to work in different aspects of Electro and to try and find new elements to it. I’m willing to break from the stylistic concepts to try and find something new in terms of Electro. I might have to surrender some classic elements to get to that point.

MM: What are you finding you have to surrender in terms of making it work in a club these days; is it about stripping it back and making it more functional?

AR: This is a good question. It’s a kind of energy that needs to be in the track. You can have a complicated production and it will still work in a club. You have to play it out to find out. I usually play it out and from that I know what needs to go into the next production.

MM: You don’t go back to the one you played out or an older production?

AR: No, the concept is to be one step ahead. I’m always in a kind of twilight zone, not knowing what’s going to work. I think this is the best position to be in when you’re writing music if you wanna do something fresh. 

MM: Do you specifically make everything for the purpose of playing it out in your hybrid Electro set or are some things made purely for just the recorded format?

AR: I produce the music for the hybrid Electro set and I play it like a kind of DJ. I’m basically my own record shop. I produce so much music that I can play only my own music. This is the concept and this is where all the music comes from. I’m in the studio everyday, because I need so much material for the hybrid Electro set. From ten tracks that I produce, maybe one or two I can use in my set. 

MM: Is the intention to release as much of that music as possible?

AR: At first it wasn’t. But now I’m releasing my albums on bandcamp. You can see it as a full artistic concept. The hybrid Electro set represents my work as an artist in all different media. 

MM: So it’s its own self-contained ecosystem with you in the centre of it. 

AR: Exactly. 

MM:  Are you able to adapt to a crowd like a traditional DJ would?

AR: I can adapt to the crowd within the limits of my own material. I have a lot of material, because I’ve produced so much stuff and I try to produce various instances of Electro. It’s not just a show. It’s not so easy to explain without using the word DJ, but I don’t consider myself a DJ. 

MM:  And it’s very much contained within the universe of Electro?

AR: Exactly, I tried to do it years ago with some four on the floor tracks, but then in 2016 I started shifting to Electro. During the pandemic I decided that I will play only Electro in my hybrid set.

MM: Why did you decide that?

AR: Before that I was in between, but during the pandemic I wanted to prove if it was possible to do an Electro-only hybrid set. I want to be a 100% Electro artist. If I do something else I’ll use a new project name. This is my mission till the end of my life; to find all the different aspects of Electro available. 

MM: That’s a serious dedication. What is it about Electro that makes it so appealing?

AR: I think this is my nature.

Anthony's control panel

MM: It seems that you clearly set out a path for yourself, which is quite the contrast to a few years back when you went on a bit of a hiatus. That  seems at odds with your work ethic. Can you tell me what happened there?

AR: Yes around 2007 -2014, after the Datapunk hype, I lost myself for various reasons. One of the big reasons was that I was dragged into a kind of a business thing, which I had not enough knowledge about. I think I made every business error I could make as somebody that has no experience. I was exhausted. Everything looked so positive, but it turned out that everything was just business. 

MM: What did it take for you to get back to a point where you could  start making music again?

AR: For the longest time I was just trying to find myself again. I was ripped into a 1000 pieces, and I had to find the right pieces that really reflect me. In 2013 I produced Netzwerk Der Zukunft and this album helped me to put together the pieces of the real Anthony. Today I can say I’m complete in a sense that I know who I am again. I can trust myself and the decisions I make. Today I can distinguish between the business and the real stuff and the real stuff is the most important thing in my artistic life. 

MM: Did you feel that when you got back to it that it was the same as that initial spark when you got your first synthesiser, when you heard Electro for the first time or when you made music for the first time?

AR: When you’re creating in a sense that you do something real, it’s always a very deep experience. It’s not the same but it’s very different in depth. When I first created Sex with the Machines (my debut album), this had deep moments, but what I do today is deeper. I have more knowledge and have more possibilities. 

When you’re young, being naïve has a certain magic. This is something you lose because you get more knowledge and you gain more experience, and  I’m jealous of my younger self in that regard. On the other hand when you are naïve and young you’re often two-stepping into the wrong spots. (laughs) 

MM: What is your relationship today with an album like sex with the machines?

AR: I’m still listening to it. I’m still amazed by it. It’s not part of my creative process today, because that album has its own tone and is of its own time. For me it’s a great moment in my artistic career and it always gives me good energy. 

MM: Is it something that you ever reference in your music today?

AR:  I referenced parts of Sex with the Machines for my 2018 album 3L3C7RO COMMANDO, so yes.

MM: Looking at your studio from what I’ve seen online, it seems that you are still using many of the same old machines you would’ve used back then. How do you continue to use these machines in music that seeks to progress too?

AR: I work with old machines but I also have tons of new machines. I’m always cycling around. I have a basic setup and I change it in different ways. I’m always shifting with technology in search of that freshness in this style of music. 

A glimmer of hope in sound with Serge Jazzmate

Serge Jazzmate, is a rarefied phenomenon in the club music scene. The DJ and event organiser has remained a determined presence in Ukraine despite the war and in an extremely difficult and terrifying situation he has helped retain some semblance of a scene in his native Kiyv. Between the sounds of air raid sirens and Russian projectiles, Serge’s music also permeates the air, offering a glimmer of hope in sound for a scene under serious duress. 

A resident and co-founder of LOW, and frequent guest at ∄ (k41) Serge Jazzmate has been a fixture on what was burgeoning scene in Ukraine since 2007. A true facilitator, he helped arrange events and parties when he was not playing sets that trip across vast musical borders. He can be found operating in that record-enthusiast/selector universe where all the attention is focussed on the music and the DJ is an enthusiast and entertainer. 

Before the war broke out with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, he had also been a prominent figure appearing on lineups like Brave! Factory, Strichka and Rhythm Buro Natura as well as playing abroad in places like Berlin. His nomadic sets, moving  between everything from “Brazilian bossa nova to Electro,” have become a staple at his LOW residency, which recently celebrated its 14th anniversary with an event in Berlin.

Today, the festivals are on indefinite hiatus but LOW and the spirit of the people behind the scenes, people like Serge, continue to bring some kind of momentary relief to Ukraine’s clubbing community. It’s only fleeting under the current curfew, but it’s there, an allegory to that unyielding Ukrainian spirit.

We caught up with Serge via email, and he was kind enough to give us a few moments of his precious time to find out more about the current situation and his own history ahead of his set in Jaeger’s sauna with Pavel Plastikk this weekend.

Hello Serge. Perhaps you can start by giving us a brief glimpse of what life is like in Kiyv at the moment. 

Hello, Misha. People live their lives, go to work, and children go to schools and kindergartens. Of course, it is not a normal life when your country is being destroyed and filled with blood, but we have to adapt to the situation when you, your family or your neighbors can be killed by a rocket or drone in a moment in a peaceful city. It’s about every single settlement across the largest country in Europe.

This war has been going on for a year, and it seems to just be intensifying leading up to the anniversary. Can you tell us how it’s affected you personally and the toll it continues to take on the Ukrainian people?

Complex issue. The ongoing war is taking a significant toll on the Ukrainian people’s mental health, with many experiencing trauma and anxiety as a result of the violence and uncertainty. Defenders and peaceful people die daily, infrastructure and industries are being heavily damaged, and significant damage is caused to nature. We apparently have no other choice than the retreat of the aggressor’s army, otherwise Ukraine will cease to exist as an independent state. This will provoke, firstly, a previously unprecedented new wave of emigration from Ukraine, and secondly, it will unleash new wars and global changes since WW2.

A lot of your peers and fellow DJs have left Ukraine for places like Berlin. What is keeping you there and how are artists like yourself surviving there at the moment and what about the conscription?

I have the opportunity to leave the country, but I am kept by the business (I run a company), my favorite city, exceptional people and favorite clubs and Closer. To make a living only as an artist is not possible right now. I passed a medical examination and I can serve in the army but I have postponement.

I see you are playing regularly in Kiyv, even now. How are you able to maintain some kind of semblance of a scene there?

All businesses have adapted to the new reality and continue to adapt. The city somehow has managed to maintain a music scene, with local artists continuing to perform in various venues. There are even some brave djs from Europe coming to Closer from time to time which deserves huge respect. I guess there are about 3 million people in Kyiv now.

What are some of the main obstacles in putting on events and DJing in the city at the moment?

First and foremost, the curfew from 23-00, so all events end no later than 21-45, since employees need to finish their shifts and guests get home in due time. Secondly, the lack of electricity. Almost every venue has a generator that solves this issue.

What’s happening with concepts like LOW and do you see a time ahead when you can simply pick it up again where you left off?

Thanks to our friends from PRU Y RVU, we just celebrated the 14th anniversary of LOW in Oxi Club in Berlin. All our residents arrived from different countries and we picked up our two favorite dj’s who previously played LOW in Kyiv – Tako (Music From Memory) & Maurice Fulton (BubbleTease Communications). It was a truly unforgettable and amazing night full of love, music and unity. Obviously, we won’t be able to hold events at home, and we’ll probably continue to hold special parties in different countries.

Clubbing has often been an outlet for people during periods of great distress as an escape for the harsh realities. I know in Serbia for example, club culture offered people a lifeline during their time of war. Is there anything like that happening in Ukraine at the moment, or is the war simply consuming all?

Absolutely. When you live in a constant negative emotional field, in fear and anxiety, with many restrictions, music and dance positively affect the state of people. Each participant buying a ticket directly helps various units of the army, funds, etc. Most venues collect and share profits. It’s win-win. Everyone is working on ways to help our defenders in an affordable way on the home front.

You’ve been involved in club music and club culture for a couple of decades. How did you get into this music and how did you get your start as a DJ?

Music has accompanied me since childhood. When I was at school I began collecting CDs ranging from Detroit techno, Brazilian bossa nova, Trip Hop, Disco, House, Reggae, Electro, Funk. It was a collection of many thousands. Later I started collecting records on the basis of my CD collection. I bought two Technics 1210s and a Pioneer DJM 300 mixer and in 2005 started training and playing extended sets at home.

My first paid gig happened in 2007 and after that more invitations followed. By that time, I had already met my partner in crime and the best Ukrainian dj Pavel Plastikk. We started playing together, and in 2009 LOW Party was launched at Xlib Club. On a separate note, Berghain/Panorama Bar seriously influenced and inspired me when I visited it as a clubber in 2008 and dreamed of the day when I would play upstairs.

What was the scene for electronic music like there before the war?

It grew rapidly from 2014-2015, new clubs opened, the young scene developed, first-rate international electronic festivals were started such as Brave! Factory, Strichka and Rhythm Buro to name a few.

Even when Covid happened, the Kyiv clubs managed to stay afloat. A striking example of which is Brave! Factory Festival 2021, which attracted over 10 thousand visitors (with a huge proportion of foreign ravers) and a club located on Kyrylivska Street (), which was launched a few months before the pandemic and also gathered full planes of European tourists. Europe was in full lockdown at the time. Our economy could not afford it, so businesses worked within the existing rules and adapted to the situation without proper governmental help.

You’ve eschewed the producer/DJ paradigm. What is it about DJing that fulfills your creative pursuits and why have you avoided producing your own music?

Well, I’m a DJ and a collector. I’m happy with what I do, where I am and what moves me.

Your musical selections are quite broad with sets that can go everywhere from Disco to Techno. What is behind this eclectic approach?

It’s basically dependent on the club and the party. Sometimes I would play more straight sets, sometimes eclectic. Mixing genres came from the beginning when I started listening to the records. DJing just reflects your tastes, your mood and your understanding of the dance floor in the moment. This skill is experience, you should live them in time.

Is there anything specific that draws you to a piece of music and what is the main thing you look for in a piece of music to play out regardless of genre?

I think drama is the most important thing to achieve, regardless of genres. 

What have you found people are gravitating towards today in these trying times and why do you think this style of music works so well in the current situation?

It is difficult for me to answer. Perhaps this is something other than what is being played elsewhere, like the same type of house or techno, when it is difficult to distinguish whether something has changed over the past three hours, if you understand what I mean.Some people like 140 BPM, some people like 160 BPM. Some people just like more meaningful music where there’s a soul and emotion.

In the past, there had been some sense of collaboration between Ukraine and Russia’s Djs and artists, but I assume the war has completely broken any sense of camaraderie. Has succeeded in alienating a whole generation of Ukrainians?

I can’t answer for everyone, but in general of course, there is a very small number of artists, citizens from a neighboring country, who supported Ukraine. We keep a close eye on every artist and promoter.

What’s going to stop this war in your opinion and how can we as club- and music enthusiasts continue to help the Ukrainian people? 

Those who started the war can stop it very quickly. Keep helping Ukrainian people in any possible way, keep pressure on your governments with more & more weapons and sanctions. I understand that you also suffer from the economic consequences now but it is incomparable with other consequences which could happen later.

Ukraine DJ Marathon and fundraiser

A year on from the war in Ukraine we host a Ukrainian DJ Marathon to raise funds for the cause

It’s one year on from when Russia invaded Ukraine and to show our support, Jaeger is hosting a Ukraine relief benefit with a Ukrainian DJ marathon this Friday. We’ve assembled a iost of Ukrainian DJs and given them the keys to our basement and sauna with all proceeds going to Musicians defend Ukraine. Stanislav Tolkachev, Nastya Muravyova, Danilenko, Serge Jazzmate,Pavel Plastikk and  human margareeta represent Ukraine for this event hosted by g-HA & Olanskii and Frædag. Jaeger and Frædag present an evening with Ukrainian DJs as our effort to continue to place the spotlight on this war in the only way we know how, the music. It’s a peaceful protest of dance and camaraderie with our Ukranian counterparts and we give them full rein of both floors for this Frædag.

More information about the charity can be found here: https://shpytal.com/musicians-defend-ukraine/

More information about the event can be found here:
https://www.facebook.com/events/488518603454373/

and tickets here:
https://jaeger.ticketco.events/no/nb/e/fraedag_x_ukraine_takeover_stanislav_tolchachev__nastya_muravyova___serge_jazzmate__human_margareeta

On Trains, Planes and Automobiles with Biesmans

In 2021 Biesmans released his debut LP P Trains, Planes and Automobiles via Watergate Records. The record was created in the void of the idle routine of a world-wide pandemic and it brought Biesmans work to a world craving stimuli from mobile devices in lieu of the tangible. It solidified around the multi-media tendencies of social-media with the artist working in the strict confines of a concept and a specific work ethic. The result was a series of video clips, taken from iconic eighties movies soundtracked by Biesmans’ ebullient machine music. 

Contextually, it couldn’t be more perfect. Biesmans love of vintage synthesisers and his Belgian musical heritage set a modern backdrop for these nostalgic images. It coexisted in harmony with Biesmans’ previous EPs, which he was able to transpose perfectly for a multimedia experience. After a few aliases and projects going as far back as 2007 and an earlier career as a working DJ, Biesmans had landed on a sound that could adopt an eponymous moniker, and it was  facilitated by his close relationship with Watergate.

Going from the technical staff to an artist on their roster, Joris has a family-like bond with people behind the Berlin superclub, record label and agency. Although he is no longer one of the house’s sound guys, today he can still be found in the booth, playing vinyl alongside people like Sven Väth at the club. He has channelled his enigmatic sounds as an artist to the decks where Djing has been a creative outlet for the artists since his days as a teenager. 

With his next stop being Jaeger’s basement, we called up Joris Biesmans to find out more about what is a fairly unknown biography. Over a glitchy telephone call, I hear a friendly and relaxed Joris Biesmans and in the distance I can hear cicadas chirping and birds calling, interlaced with the hustle and bustle of a busy city. 

It sounds very tropical where you are.

It is very tropical; I’m in Goa! 

What are you doing there; are you on holiday or are you playing? 

A bit of both. I just want to take it slower in January. I’m playing here on Saturday, and I’ve been travelling with my girlfriend. I’m mixing business and pleasure. We did Egypt, Cyprus, and Beirut, and from Beirut we went to New Delhi and visited the Taj Mahal and everything, and then we went to Mumbai and Goa. 

I want to start talking about your roots in Belgium. There’s obviously that huge tradition of synthesiser music there with New Beat and some of the original Techno pioneers and I feel that I can hear it in your music too. Is that something you felt growing up there? 

I discovered that stuff later on, I have to be honest. I grew up with Eurodance and Trance stuff. This was in the ‘90’s. I started playing music in ‘96 when I was 13 years old. I hear all the hits from back then now; the young kids love them again. That was the thing I grew up with. 

Later on, I dived into this EBM stuff like Front 242. When I studied music Luc van Acker (Front 242 collaborator) was one of my teachers. I was very much focussed on House and Techno in my early years. I had no classical music training, and that would come later on and that’s how I got into that heritage. 

What were the Trance records that you were listening to back then?

Like the Bonzai stuff, and also a lot of German imports back then. Records from artists like M.I.K.E and Yves Deruyter. Back then we called it retro House, but then it was not even 10 years old. I remember there was a bit of a hard House, but also more Trance from artists like Marino Stefano or even early Tiesto records. Later on I also imported music from DJ Deeon, DJ Bone and Juan Atkins, all over the place. I still have these records, scattered between Belgium and Berlin. 

Was electronic music always around growing up, or was there some kind of realisation that happened in the nineties?

It was always there. You had all this Eurodance stuff on the radio and as a 12 year old you’re not immediately drawn into underground music. So you have to first get into it, and the electronic music you heard on the radio planted some seeds. 

The club culture in our little town was actually not that bad at all. There were lots of places where you could hear this stuff. We would go to a bar after school which would play really good House and Techno. In this genre, we had a lot of opportunities to listen and to discover new music. Today, they traded that all in for huge festival stages. 

I read somewhere that you were very young when you got your first synthesiser. At what point do you start making your own music?

It happened simultaneously. My brother and I had a clubhouse in our backyard. My brother was more on the technical side, and I just started getting into electronic music and he brought home – literally in the same year – some software called fastracker. I was never a trained musician and I found it so intriguing that I could make music (without any formal training). 

I was recording music on cassette and playing it in the little clubhouse. It was very innocent. It was so basic, but it was cool. 

At what point did you think this could be a career?

This was really playing around. I think I released my first music only around 2007. Weirdly enough when I was 16/17 years old I was really into this thing that I felt this was something I wanted to do for a living. It took me really long before I could live from it. I was always doing it, but it’s only been a few years that I have been doing this for a proper living. 

Yes, I wanted to ask you about that because the first Biesmans record only surfaced  in around 2018, but it sounds like you’ve been working away at it for some time.

Yes, it’s a fairly new act. 

There were aliases and you had been part of a Hip Hop act… 

Yes, Wooly, the Hip Hop act was from my school days. 

So what solidified for you around the time of Biesmans in terms of music? 

I started studying again in 2009. I did three years in music school. Before that I was playing a lot, mainly in Belgium. These were the myspace times. Things were going really well, and at a certain point I wanted to learn more. This broadened my horizons. I started making completely different music. I discovered some electronica stuff that I completely missed out on previously. 

And then moving to Berlin, I was all over the place. I was making music as TV(e) and I had this ongoing project with Cashmere. I was  making so much different music, I was a bit stuck. I felt really lost. I really had to regroup myself in Berlin, and becoming a technician at Watergate, there was so much musical education. 

My entire weekend was clubbing and you get to hang on club music again. That’s why I decided to focus on one thing. I was going to go back to where I started again, back before the school started, but with the information I learnt from the school. I was going back to club music and just using my own name.  

When I listen to your music I pick up on a lot of Italo references…

I’m a big fan. What  shaped my Italo love the most, was the actual machines. I love vintage synthesisers. Honestly I don’t have such a big Italo background but you take a Juno 106 (synthesiser) and it immediately sounds like you’re going to make music like this. These machines really inspire me to make music like this. 

Is that where most of your creative influences come from, the machines?

Yeah. The machines shape the sound a lot.When I have an idea the main thing for me is to just get the music out there. I’m not a purist. 

If you are listening to other music, are you taking  in those references as well?

I start with a blank slate, but I’m always taking in references. I love to DJ, and I love to look for new music. This is an essential part for me. The stuff will get absorbed somewhere and that will be released when I’m in the studio. 

This ties into what I wanted to ask you about your debut LP, “Trains, Planes and Automobiles.” The concept of pairing these video clips with your music seems quite strict. Did they have a strong influence on the way the music sounded?

Definitely. It went 50/50. I was also making songs and finding the right video for it, but I was also finding videos, and making songs. No matter which direction I started, it was always starting with a very visual image in my mind. These are references you definitely hear on the album, because you have some downtempo and atmospheric stuff that’s not designed for the dance floor.

It was Corona time, so I was watching a lot of these old movies. The film scores of this stuff are always so good. 

Why did you choose this particular era of films?

That’s also the moment I felt more nostalgic. Being in this eighties sound and having  these machines I was really drawn to it. This was always my trademark, that vintage sound, but updated for a modern club use. 

Was it about making a new soundtrack for those clips?

I wanted to be active on social media. So, the idea of the album was not initially an album. Everybody was using social media a lot, so I thought  let’s find a way to trigger all these senses. I was doing these POVs, and they were working well from my studio. So to give it a different direction, I thought, let’s do some film scores. And that worked really well. It was a good bridge to stay in the picture.

Did it start off as a vague idea and then quickly turn into a strict set of parameters?

It started off with an idea to do three tracks a week for a month, just to give myself a challenge. You make it really explicit, three tracks a week and you get your audience involved. Afterwards, a friend of mine told me; “hey but this is actually an album that you are making.” 

I did the whole thing in a month and then after I started making edits of the songs and more recordings and fine-tuning it. For me it’s the closest thing I could get to an album, it’s really just one thing. It was just one concept within this time frame. It was making a picture of that moment of my life and being as close to it as possible. That worked really well. 

That record came out on Watergate and you’re close to the people at Watergate. Does it help being in an environment like that for the freedom it presents?

I actually wanted to release it myself via bandcamp. It was a bit rougher at the time. Alex (from Watergate) was like: “why don’t work at it a bit more and you can release it via Watergate.” Then they wanted to give it the proper attention with gatefold vinyl, artwork and the whole thing became much bigger. They just heard the album and they said let’s do the album together. 

How did they feel being that person working in the background, working on the technical aspects, to being an artist on the label?

Now, I don’t do the technician job anymore; I stopped about two years ago. When I joined the agency, I told them I didn’t want to be a technician anymore, because my intention was that this was always my way into the music scene in Berlin. I’m still very closely connected to the club. If I’m in Berlin, I  visit the club at least once a week. It’s a bit of a second home.

What effect has being a technician had on what you do as a DJ in other clubs?

I don’t think it’s affected the type of music that I play. What I think is really important is the sound in the DJ booth, and I notice these things. At Watergate we had a very high standard of what we would like to meet. This is also contributing to the best possible outcome for a club and the artist. I notice that this is not common. You see it from both sides now and I have my eyes open. 

I’m sure you’ll enjoy playing at Jaeger then. 

Yes, I’ve seen videos of this very nice DJ booth which is also very dedicated to sound. I’m looking forward to that. 

International Deejay Gigolo Records: The Electroclash years

“Do you know Frank Sinatra… He’s dead… he’s dead,” Miss Kittin cackles in a distant tattoo as the Hacker’s electro beat chugs along. Few memories play out as vividly as when I first heard “Frank Sinatra” by the Hacker and Miss Kittin. I distinctly remember where I was, who I was with and the feelings that the record elicited. Today, it still evokes a visceral memory of surprise, awe and humour; not for its content within the current landscape, but for what it meant back then. 

Taken from the now highly acclaimed Miss Kitten and The Hacker’s “First album”, that formative experience with “Frank Sinatra” laid the groundwork for a musical taste that sought some distance from the mundane of what electronic music had to offer at that time. It was provocative for all the right reasons and brought electronic dance music back to something that was always intended to be; indifferent and at times completely at odds from anything in mainstream culture.

Not only did it cement an admiration for The Hacker and Miss Kittin both as a duo and individually, but it was also my introduction to a label via a compilation with some curious cover art and a name that would be difficult to forget; International DeeJay Gigolos Volume 2

Baptised by the record label that bore its name, International DeeJay Gigolo – which is often shortened to just “Gigolo” – the compilation left an indelible mark and informed a big part of my musical education; not merely for the music from the label but for an entire musical universe that would come before and after it. It’s a label that would grow as my own musical tastes evolved, and in the process of presenting new music, it would also be my introduction to an entire musical history that was distant and elusive to a still somewhat uninformed and still naïve enthusiast. Gigolo leads to Jeff Mills, takes a sojourn via Tuxedomoon, is entangled in the existence of Kraftwerk, and makes connections with contemporary labels like R&S. Throughout it all it keeps introducing the listener to new music and artists like Tiga, Mount Sims, Terence Fixmer and Adriano Canzian, and at the centre of it all; DJ Hell. 

Gigolo Records has been a significant chapter in the annals of club music. Even esteemed DJ,  DJ Harvey professed his admiration for it in DJ mag back in the day and for many DJs and enthusiasts of the same ilk it remains an important touchstone. It will be forever associated with the electroclash moment, but for anybody with eclectic tastes it goes way beyond that moment, tying the dots between Punk, Disco, Hip-Hop, Techno and Electro.

Gigolo came at a crucial time for club music and it not only found the perfect zeitgeist for its own ideologies, but went a long way in establishing that zeitgeist. It stood out amongst its peers for its unique and singular vision, driven by its sole owner and musical visionary DJ Hell (Helmut Josef Geier). It established a moment in music history we aren’t likely to witness again with that intensity. It wasn’t a specific sound – more a lack thereof – but an attitude that was at the heart of Gigolo and it all starts with the man behind the label. 

To understand Gigolo, you’ve got to take a trip through the history of one of the most enigmatic and individual DJs that has ever lived. A true and determined underground figure, DJ Hell’s history moves through club music history like Dante traversing the nine circles. Key figures and moments crop up in his own biography as if he’s recounting the story of our global scene, the faceless narrator of unflappable character. He’s never stealing the spotlight or craving the attention of his counterparts, but he’s always there, in the shadows working on the fringes like a true uncompromising underground hero. 

His career as a DJ starts with the advent of the nightclub, a concept still indistinguishable from the discotheque during the eighties. In Munich, or more accurately, a suburb outside Munich, a young DJ Hell is cutting his teeth, playing music from his local discotheque’s collection – DJs did that back then, when the music policy was still dictated by the sound of the place rather than the disc jockey. DJ Hell had shown a knack for picking the right records from the communal collection, consolidating it into a career as a DJ and then later a producer. 

Moving from the suburbs to the city DJ Hell became one of the first House DJs in Germany, parlaying his skills for mixing records into A&R for the Disko B label before becoming an artist and producer with his breakout single “My definition of House” on the then burgeoning R&S label. His work as A&R took him from Germany to New York, possibly sowing the seed for an eventual move to New York to be a resident at the infamous Limelight club alongside Jeff Mills.

This is where a large part of the story of International DeeJay Gigolos begins. In 1993 DJ Hell was a resident, sharing the booth alongside Mills in one of the most iconic eras and places for club music. It’s here where the story of the club kids of New York begins and ends with Michael Alig’s eventual descent into murder. Yes, DJ Hell was there for the beginning of that too.

It was DJ Hell’s close associations with Mills that planted the seed for Gigolos to exist. After hearing a couple of Disco “edits” from the wizard being turned at limelight, DJ Hell approached Mills with a proposal to release the music. Both DJs knew that the music wouldn’t suit any of Mills’ Techno labels, and he agreed to give the music to Hell to establish International Deejay Gigolos. This was a big deal. Jeff Mills hardly ever licences his music outside of his own labels and here is giving DJ Hell these tracks for free! 

“Shifty Disco” wasn’t the first catalogue number on Gigolos – no that honour goes to D.J. Naughty and David Carretta – but it was released in the same year the label sprang into existence and set the tone for what the label and this music would become. It turned it all on its head. Here’s the original Techno innovator, making Disco-inspired House, and what do you know… he’s very good at it. That raw impulsiveness that is Jeff Mills, is all over this record, but it’s channelled towards the fringes of Jeff Mills’ known universe, where vocal samples and strings sit buoyantly alongside syncopated hi-hats.

Shifty Disco and Gigolo came as a revelation in the late nineties. As we were marching into the millennium, Electronic club music became more and more codified. Lines began to be drawn in the sand, between House and Techno and Trance and its quickly-emerging subgenres where there had never been any distinctions before. Some factions started garnering superstardom on the basis of playing records to a dance floor, while others were happy toiling in the underground benefiting from the hype. It was a time of hyperinflation for club music’s equity stake in popular culture and DJs were playing to millions at the likes of Love Parade while producers like David Morales and Paul Johnson (original underground figures) got played on MTV. As it became trendy without much resistance from people that saw an easy buck, all sincerity went along with it and by the time the troubadours were playing saxophones alongside fedora-clad DJs playing “lounge House” nobody with any taste would be caught dead listening to a DJ, except maybe one – DJ Hell. 

DJ Hell and Gigolo were one of the few instuítutions that not only remained unique during this period, but also bridged a lot of gaps for people moving to and from electronic club music. As the owner, A&R and creative director for the label, DJ Hell’s punk-informed attitude to music and the business of music was one of the most authentic for a time of uber-commercialism for electronic music. There was no specific promotion, no hype, just an ideology and a look that resonated with an audience either coming to electronic music or moving away from the tawdry aspects of the music. 

As the label started to take shape and by the first compilation an aesthetic started to emerge based somewhere between the pop-sensitivities of Andy Warhol and the kitsch machismo of  the Arnold Schwarzenegger artwork for the label. (Later Arnold’s people would sue Gigolo for the use of his image, but that’s a whole other article). It was all carefully orchestrated by DJ Hell and even today a Gigolo record still jumps out at you from the shelves for its curious artwork featuring Amanda Lapore and Sid Vicious. 

Early releases from likes of the disco industrialist David Carretta, the eco-nihilist turned Hi-NRG punk Chris Korda (“save the planet, kill yourself”), House cadettes the Foremost Poets and Electro stalwart DMX Crew, not to mention the Hacker and Miss Kitten set a road map through electronic music that looked like a Jackson Pollock painting created by an AI. Even when Gigolo was releasing straight up House music, there were elements of something more going making unlikely connections between distant musical universes and it was quirky but above all idiosyncratic. There was an approach in breaking down barriers that permeated through it all, and although it was in the air with people moving away from what House and Techno became, Gigolo played a significant role in defining this period as Electroclash. 

If there is one track that defined this era and this spirit in music and offered something of a breakthrough, this would be “Kernkraft 400” by Zombie Nation. Today that song has been immortalised in football stadiums the world over, but before it was that it set a watermark for what Electroclash would become. It’s instantly gratifying melody and fervent joviality, becoming an instant earworm for a whole generation of club-goers. It cemented the career of the artist and synth-wizard Florian Senfter, defining an era and a sound that would soon be immortalised through Gigolo. Right now, it might be as far removed from the original context as it was intended as a football stadium chant (or not actually considering DJ Hell’s own love for football), but even back then it was also probably the biggest crossover success for the label and the artist. Between the saccharine melody and the rocky nature of the synths that called to mind more Emmerson Lake and Palmer than it did Oakenfold, the record has clearly stood the test of time. It was and remains the definition of Electroclash and you can hear its influence on everything from Alter Ego to Boys Noize. 

Much like the whole ethos of International Deejay Gigolo, Electroclash was based on the absence of a particular sound rather than a specific genre. The prefix Electro is something of a misnomer, referring more to an epochal sound and character rather than the literal understanding of the genre Electro. It would fold in everything from Synth Pop to Disco to Techno with a focus on electronic sounds and an iconoclastic approach that tore down institutionalised barriers installed by “purists.” Electroclash held a middle finger up to the dogmas of electronic club music, establishing one of the most fertile and unassumingly progressive periods in electronic music. It came at just the right time at the end of the nineties when electronic club music was becoming more rigid and formulaic in the wake of some crossover success. 

DJ Hell saw all of this from his vantage point at a point where he himself had been established, and positioned International DJ Gigolo Records right at the centre of this incredible creative mælstrøm. There would be nothing expected or pastiche that came out of this period for Gigolo. Records like the electro-rock of Zombie Nation would live side by side with the rest of the catalogue, with the only common thread between these records being their raw and impulsive nature. There was an energy that sought to decimate the conformity gathering momentum in electronic music, offering a lifeline to a musical scene that was getting complacent.

The label  would never fall victim to this complacency and a record would never deign to cash in on the success from the last. The diversity of the label’s output was something like collage for someone with an attention deficit disorder. If for example “Kernkraft 400” was the record that broke the mould, it wouldn’t assume to take centre stage, and DJ Hell would pivot to something  completely different again and again. There was no blueprint or method, it was purely the impulses of a DJ with remarkably eclectic tastes and a laser-like focus, proven by the early success of a record like Zombie Nation’s and Dopplereffekts “Gesamtkunstwerk”. That last record had almost nothing in common with the first even though they were released around the same time, and today, much like “Kernkraft 400”, “Gesamtkunstwerk” stands as another classic record from that same era.

During a recent interview for Tiga’s podcast “Last Party on Earth”, Hell talks purposefully about this record as one of his greatest achievements as a label boss. From the artwork to the title, and of course the music, “Gesamtkunstwerk” is a masterpiece. Arriving, anonymously, via one of the legends of the Detroit scene, namely Gerald Donald (previously one half of Drexciya), it might seem like an obvious choice for a successful record, but at the time people were still just discovering the truly underground sounds of Drexciya and their other Detroit counterparts. Dopplereffekt was still unknown with some mystery around the main actors of the group, but you didn’t need to know the origin story to fall in love with the record’s dystopian grooves. 

Hell and Gigiolo brought Dopplereffekt to the fore with this record. It was probably the purist from of Electro that Electroclash would assume, demonstrating a mass appeal value for the Electro genre that we hadn’t experienced since Uncle Jams Army in the eighties. Electro had been a DIY indulgence for comic book nerds and synthesiser geeks, but even a stubborn rocker  hearing “Gesamtkunstwerk” for the first time, it was all s/he wanted to hear after. In 1999 when the LP was released, it stood as a linchpin for the whole Electroclash movement. The comical panic of Y2K, makes for a perfect backdrop in the group’s fantastical prose about sexual congress with mannequins and obstructing human fecundity, while machines drummed out rhythmic devices like a automatron motor city factory. 

There was a sense of absurdity at work even when the music was quite serious and it came to define the likes of the roster at Gigolo. Things like providing a platform for the aforementioned Chris Korda’s and his “church of euthanasia”; releasing Mount Sims’ “Hate Fuck” as a single for radio; and putting Amanda Lepore on the cover of records obviously provoked, but the intention was always with sense of fun, DJ Hell’s tongue always firmly cheek. A kind of Roy Lichtenstein for the new millennium, Hell and Gigolo took a slanted approach to pop-culture through a soundscape only JG Ballard could envision, and it worked. The records would be released into the world without any pressure from the label for the artists to do interviews or promote their work, and a whole generation flocked to them without much goading. There was something considered about the final product around a Gigolo release, which extended from the music to its packaging and it stood out on every record shelf.

It was an entire world contained, built around a cult-like family of freaks that Hell cultivated like Charles Manson without all the killing and with some actual musical talent. It’s possibly best represented in the funny, almost outlandish 2005 Gigolo documentary, Freak Show, where Hell takes the gang on the road, from Germany to the states, featuring a young Tiga, Miss Kittin, Traxx and a host of characters you couldn’t possibly write today. 

With so much music being released via the label one can’t simply dip a toe into the Gigolo catalogue during this period. There’d be tracks like Vitalic’s “Poney,” Tiga’s “Sunglasses at night” or Fischerspooner’s “Emerge” that would keep you engaged with the label though its popularity, but it would inevitably lead to records like Terenece Fixmer’s “Muscle Machine” or David Caretta’s “Dominion”. At the same time it could lead to a rabbithole to post-punk darlings like Tuxedomoon; resurrect forgotten gems like Shari Vari; or really turn everything on its head with a P. Diddy record. That’s not to mention DJ Hell’s own vital contributions throughout this period, including masterpieces like NY Muscle.

It’s in fact NY Muscle that stands as the fulcrum point for the electroclash era for me personally. With collaborators like LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy, Traxx, and Suicide’s Alan Vega, this record was something of the barometer from which we gauge the Electroclash period. Rock motifs and tunnel-vision like Techno live side by side in this record from 2003, which also started to mark the height of the success of the label sandwiched between tracks like Sunglasses at night and Justice v. Simian’s “never be alone.” 

Gigolo would honour the legacy from which it arrived and in some chaotic kaleidoscope of sound it would reconstitute and re-invigorate what had become stale and formulaic. In what is only a laboured analogy Frank Sinatra was truly dead, but the rat-pack survived in the form of Micahel Alig’s club kids born in the parallel world the label and its founder created. It was the right label for the right time and as much as it brought a whole new generation (this writer included) back to electronic music. It remains a significant label even today, and today its back catalogue often warrants some double-takes, like “wow, they released that!

From Gigolo’s heyday, electronic music’s success quickly rose in the popular consciousness, perhaps even leaving Gigolo behind somewhere between the stark minimalism of Berlin’s endemic influence. Those barriers that Electroclash broke down were quickly reinforced and only strengthened in its resolve to institutionalise a music that was always thrived in the obscure and impulsive. But it’s still some of the world’s best producers and DJs working today that came to the fore during that time. DJs like Tiga, 2 many DJs, Boys Noize, Erol Alkan and Ivan Smagghe (many of which collaborated or were featured on Gigolo) rose to prominence during this period too, and it’s no surprise that they continue to be acknowledged as some of the best in the world. Whatever was ingrained during Electroclash (even if Ivan Smagghe hates to admit it) has established them as unique entities on our scene today. 

And much like those DJs, Gigolo stands as a watermark in electronic music history. Some twenty years on, many of those records (and I have a fair few of them) stood the test of time. They haven’t been in the zeitgeist for some time but every now and then you’ll hear a DJ play a track and it immediately stands out amongst whatever else is being played, much like it did when it was in its prime. There are some similarities we can draw with the current era and the original Electroclash scene. Electronic music has reached a state of popularity it has never witnessed before, and at the same time has been diluted into bland tropes facilitated by accessibility and the economics. There are a lot of similarities that can be drawn to that time and now, and is setting a good precedent to set the scene for a new iconoclastic genre to exist, much like it did when Gigolo was there to establish it. Frank Sinatra is well and truly dead!

Schneider’s House with Anja Schneider

Anja Schneider has been a broadcast- and club DJ for 25 years. She cut her teeth in the world of DJing back in the nineties when the culture was still underground, precocious and even a little menacing. By the early 2000’s she was established, moving from DJing to label owner and eventually production as one of the founders of Mobilee. That label remains a touchstone for a very specific time in club music history as Techno and House went deeper and crossed over into popular culture. At the height of its popularity, Anja left Mobilee and almost immediately she established her own imprint Sous. Anja Schneider’s presence has been a fixture in the culture, especially through her work as a radio host and an electronic music facilitator for airwaves. 

Radio is something that she has always embraced, but even for all its positives it could also feel like a quagmire for a progressive club DJ like Anja, whose strong connection to the underground often left her stymied with her day job. Recently that has changed. 

“Now I’m radio free,” says Anja Schneider over a telephone call with some reserved excitement in her vocal chords. After twenty five years in broadcasting Anja Schneider has called it quits for radio. “To make a long story short… I had enough,” the German DJ and producer begins. It started when her programme at radio Eins ended abruptly when they pivoted to an all-rock programme during the pandemic. “Imagine, in Berlin!”, she mocks incredulously. She fielded a lot of offers from other stations and took on the monumental task of a daily drive time show at classic radio with a programme called Beats, which was all about “independent deep house.” She did a show for a year, “and then I couldn’t do it anymore,” she says, sounding exasperated. “It was too much and I couldn’t hear any new music.”

There had always been a sense of “frustration” for Anja working in “these big companies”  where it seemed “you’re always fighting” to get that “new shit” on the air. After 25 years she was “tired” and compounded by the situation, in general, Anja has taken a well-deserved break from the airwaves. It’s given her the opportunity “to breathe a little” and refocus her energies on the club dance floor. “Everybody from outside just saw me as a radio producer,” reflects Anja, and today she is looking to shed a little of that perception of her skills as a DJ.

Anja Schneider’s associations with radio run deep, especially in Germany. Since the early nineties she has been at the forefront of German broadcasters bringing electronic club music to the masses. 

It was all predicated by an interest for electronic music that started in her hometown of Cologne, where she first heard the sounds of Chicago and Detroit spilling out from a local record store. “I worked in an advertising company, and underneath there was this little Chicago record shop,” remembers Anja. There were all “these cool guys hanging” out in front of the shop, and her curiosity piqued, she went on to discover what electronic club music was all about. They turned her on to the likes of Underground Resistance while DJs like “Hans Nieswandt from Whirlpool production” exposed her to some of her first DJ mixes. She went deeper with fanzines and started buying the music, before she eventually made her way to Berlin and found a refuge on the dance floor at Tresor.

There she was “blown away” when she saw “Jeff Mills for the first time” and alongside influences like the “charismatic” Sven Väth, a nascent career as a DJ awaited, but it would have to wait a little longer. 

Anja’s focus had always been as somebody that “worked behind the scenes.” Her work in advertising which led to broadcasting kept her rooted in the background as a kind wizard of oz for club music, when it was still in its infancy. Instead of keeping it on the dance floor, Anja  turned her efforts to bringing what she heard in clubs on the weekend to the bigger audience of the radio. “I always wanted to make it (electronic music) more popular,” she explains. She started off as something “like a consultant” before moving on to become a “programme manager,” a position she enjoyed at Fritz radio for some time before her boss convinced her to take to the microphone as a DJ. 

After an initial reticence, it turned out to be the “best decision of my life.” She became “very successful” as a radio DJ and shortly after DJ requests started flooding in. A thought struck her; “if I can play for 80 000 people on the radio of course I can play in the club. This was the most stupid thought!” she now considers with a snicker. “I failed the first gigs and I had to learn to mix properly.” That didn’t take long. Moving over to a set of decks, after the simplistic push-button selections of radio programming, Anja Schneider’s reputation became two-fold. Already known for her cutting edge selections as a radio DJ, she became a double threat as a DJ that had the chops to back it up in the club too. 

Soon an “offer to start a label” followed. That label turned out to be Mobillee, a club music label that became home to artists like Sebo K, Pan Pot and more recently Gheist, and has been a significant fixture on club music since its inception, with Anja playing a large part in its success…

Anja trails off while recounting these early years. It’s always struck me and especially now speaking to her, that Anja Schneider lives in the present with an eye on the future. She’s never been one to reflect too heavily on the past in other interviews and talking to her she covers much of her career, with “…and the rest is history”. It’s reflected in what she does as a label owner with most of her efforts are focussed on bringing new artists and music to the fore. Recently she has established Clubroom, a mix series,”which is syndicated to several radio stations;” worked with up and coming artist, Joplyn for an amazon music exclusive; and released a compilation, featuring many new artists via her own Sous music label. 

The fairly young imprint has been around since 2017 with the debut LP coming from Anja Schneider herself. The record, called SoMe, seemed like a significant moment for the artist, producer and DJ, and much like the position she finds herself in today, after 25 years of being a radio DJ, it seemed like a watershed moment for her career. It established a new label, marked her departure from Mobilee and hinted to a more eclectic approach in her sound, as something she likes to refer to as “Schneider House.” Anja is not so sure however what really inspired this watershed moment or any of the others. “I’ve never been a person to make plans. It’s always been chaotic and organic” and creation of Sous records and the LP SoMe, could simply be an extension of that. 

Her decision to leave Mobilee, the label she helped create and cultivate in to its position today, “was not an easy step” for Anja.”It was quite difficult for me when I quit,” admits Anja and the fallout from that was a huge risk on her part too, but she was adamant on this new recourse. “With Mobilee, it was established, there was a lot of business,” says Anja. It was “too much pressure” to deliver in the end. She wanted a record she could put out without considering the practical commitments that go with being a label boss, things like paychecks and bills. “I wanted to do it whenever I wanted to and how I wanted to do it,” and that’s how Sous came to be. She was determined and it didn’t take her much time to establish herself again in the position she is now, with a new successful label and a very busy musical output. 

SoMe laid the foundation for her to explore new avenues in the larger network of her Schneider House sound. It extends to the label where “everything is possible” which reflects again in her DJ sets too. It’s a sound she’s established over the course of her career and much like everything else it’s a direct result of this chaotic and organic process to everything she touches.

It’s hard to believe today that Anja Schneider never wanted to be a producer. ”Everybody was asking why don’t you deliver a track?”; but she was quite aware of her own limitations. “I can’t do it,” she used to tell them until her friend Sebo K convinced her otherwise. She teamed up with that producer first and the result was a record called Tonite. All those latent ingredients are there that make this an Anja Schneider track. Melodic and immersive, yet thundering, it is a dance floor track that looks to the deeper end of the spectrum. Bubbling basslines and syncopated percussion keep it rooted on the groove while playful elements flutter through the arrangements.

Ever since her first release, she has always worked with a production partner and she picks no bones about the fact. “I love to work with different people,” exclaims Anja. “I like the interactions and the fights that you have with people,” she says with a laugh. 

Her latest production partner is her husband and renowned producer, Toni Planet. There haven’t been any fights yet according to Anja who has found the whole experience to be “super easy and fun” so far. In her relationships with any producer, it “has to click on a human side,” and working with her husband certainly has that covered. “On the other hand it’s really important to have something unique or authentic.” Anja “can hear quite soon, if somebody is trying to be trendy,” and music for her has always been about having an “authentic” experience. 

This is one of the biggest faux pas Anja has witnessed in her extensive career, as a DJ,  producer and label owner. “If you have to adapt, you are losing that authentic part of you.” She considers “it would be completely stupid” to have to adapt at all to what’s going on around her, especially now with a trend for harder and faster music prevailing. In what she claims is now her “fifth wave” of a new trend, she certainly doesn’t feel the need to compromise the authenticity of Schneider’s House for this new immediacy in club music. 

Anja’s music today actually  lives on the opposite end of the spectrum of the trend, yet she is still an in-demand DJ, which says much about her own authenticity as a producer and DJ. Her latest release Turning my Head, is a deep thriller operating on the lower ends of the BPM wars. A moody track that simmers between tension and resolve, it maintains that sound of Schneider’s House for lack of any other description. 

“It’s always deep,” she says of this sound. “I’m not a person with big breaks and drama”  and in her music you’ll find something that is tempered and introspective with a groove that undulates throughout. “This groove can also be a little breaky,” suggests Anja with tracks like WMF from SoMe as an example, but it’s always there and follows the artist from the studio to any DJ booth she commands. 

Much like her music, “everything is possible” when it comes to an Anja Schneider set and yet there is something specific to her sets that can live happily under the roof of Schneider`s House. Her only regret recently has been that due to the pandemic, “the last EPs were really slow and breaky” and like DJing she is looking forward to get back into the club “and make music for the dance floor again.’’ 

It’s hard to believe that it would take that long for Anja Schneider to achieve her goal. With the world back on its feet, her presence on the dance floor has been noted. Her touring schedule is back to where it was during her time at Mobilee and with more releases primed from her and her label, including a “big breaks” remix from Dense Pika, Anja Schneider is riding a new wave of success already. With the commitments of broadcasting now firmly behind her, she has retrained her efforts and set her laser-like focus back on the club dance floor. She’s setting the scene for a new generation of producers and DJs through her label and efforts like clubroom in that same altruistic approach  that has followed her through her entire career; to bring that “new shit” to the people. 

Luke Solomon: The unsung hero of House music on his own terms

It takes some kind of legacy to be called one of the unsung heroes of House music, especially when the accolade is bestowed by one of the best in the business, Andrew Weatherall. Luke Solomon is that unsung hero and has forgotten more about dance music than any of us can ever begin to know. He’s been a monolith in the scene since the nineties, but working in the background, behind the scenes, few people have acknowledged his presence like Andrew Weatherall, but that is about to change. 

We all first felt Luke Solomon’s presence on the scene as the resident of Space @ Bar Rumba alongside the legendary Kenny Hawkes. From there he established the Classic record label (Classic Music Company today) with Derrick Carter and set about defining the sound of House music in the mid and late nineties in Europe. A facilitator in the truest sense of the word, Space lives on infamy today as one of the infallible House concepts in the history of club music, while Classic has been responsible for some of the most legendary House records ever to be sealed in wax, many of them Luke’s own. 

As an artist he’s been active for the better part of his career, most notably as one half of Freaks together with Justin Harris, with whom he enjoyed (or rather not) also his first crossover success with the Creeps. Over the years, he’s carved out a career as a producer with a midas touch and it’s extended from his work with Harris and his solo work to a place where today he has hundreds of production credits on records for Honey Dijon, Horse Meat Disco and Beyoncé.

Yes, that Beyoncé. Together with his writing partners, Chris Penny and Honey Dijon, Luke Solomon penned the music for “Cosy” and “Alien Superstar” from her last album Renaissance and with a couple of Grammys pending, the fates have smiled on Luke as he steps into what many might say is his twilight years of a musical career, even though hes far from done.  

It’s not been without its struggles, losing friends like Kenny Hawkes and peers like Andrew Weatherall, and with all the other misfortunes and strifes that follow a DJ, it has only strengthened his resolve and he has taken it all into his stride. “I’ve been through a lot,” he says via a telephone call but it’s also been worth it on some level. “I get a lot of inspiration from the darkness and the parts of my life that I stumble and I feel that helps me creatively and that’s the greatest therapy.” 

Today he’s “writing with people like Seven Davis Jr.” and with “more queries coming from the pop world to make music” from his work with Beyoncé,  he’s found a new urge that has taken him back to that youthful spirit of the nineties and coming through as a new DJ and producer. “For instance, I was just in New York now working with Honey and loads of different writers, it was so much fun. I felt like a kid then. Nothing mattered and we could do what we wanted and any idea was a good idea.” 

It’s this work that he’s doing behind the scenes outside of the spotlight that in many ways defined Luke Solomon as one of the unsung heroes of House music in Andrew Weatherall’s eyes. Between his production work and his A&R activities, he’s laid the groundwork from which artists like Derrick Carter, Honey Dijon, Horse Meat Disco, Camelphat and many many more have built very successful careers. Today he continues to do the A&R for Defected, with many industry experts claiming his efforts have played a pivotal role in that company’s latest successes. 

And throughout it all he still DJs and continues to tour the world on the skills he first laid down at Space @ Bar Rumba. It’s at the UK club he first met Olle Abstract and with his appearance at LYD pending it’s here where our conversation begins. 

Luke SolomonWhat do you remember of the nights at Space @ Bar Rumba?

Absolutely nothing… (laughs)

So it must have been a really good night then?

Yeah, I’ve been having to think about this alot at the moment, because me and a couple of people from the club have done a compilation, which is dedicated to Kenny Hawkes. I’ve been thinking about the different nights and the different DJs. I think we captured a moment in time. The stars aligned for what was this really special place. 

If I’m not mistaken Classic was established around the same time. 

Actually, Girls FM happened, which was the Pirate station I played at with Kenny. The club night started as a result of the radio station and our relationship, and Classic sort of happened around the same time. It’s a bit of a blur. 

Does that mean the music policy at Space kind of reflected the sound of the label?

It was Deep House, the original version of Deep House coming out of Chicago and New York and led by labels like Prescription and Cajual. It grew and became more eclectic. We would play Disco and the sound of Brit House, and then the Nu Disco sound happened. 

What were people like that came out to the event, because it would take a huge commitment to come out every week, right?

It was chaos. A  lot of industry people would come because it was the middle of the week. That was always fun and hedonistic and then you had what we called the Deep House 150; which was about a core of 150 people that were dedicated Deep House fans that would come out every week. If it was a big night, and with a guest DJ like Andrew Weatherall, Harvey or Derrick Carter it would be a roadblock. 

You mention Derrick Carter there, the co-founder of Classic. Would you often have Classic artists on the lineup?

Yes, and a lot of people that used to play for us, ended up becoming Classic artists. It was a mixture. People like Gemini and Ron Trent were regulars. It was interesting, because when we first started, we had Ron Trent and Chez Damier and we had like 50 people. And then fast forward 12 months and we had 300 people. I think we broke that sound in London before anywhere else was playing this kind of music. 

What led to the night coming to an end?

Kenny was in charge of running it and I was the resident DJ. He realised that what was happening in Soho and in the west end was that music was shifting more towards the east end. We thought it would be better to end it while it was on a high, rather than feed it every week. We were both playing every weekend, the labels were firing on all cylinders and Freaks was just happening for me. So, there were lots going on so it was a good time to pull the plug.

Did it cement anything in terms of you and DJing going forward at that point in your career?

Yeah. I still stand by the fact that it taught me how to be a warm-up DJ and it’s still the thing that I enjoy more than anything else. Starting a club from the beginning when there is nobody in the room and filling the dance floor, I learnt all that playing from Bar Rumba. It was the time when you could break new records and keep things mellow. That was valuable for me and I carry that with me.

Do you still get opportunities to warm up?

All the time, that’s my favourite time to play. Especially if I play before Honey Dijon or Derrick. Recently I played in New York and I opened the club elsewhere in the 2nd room, and I played all night, and I love that. It’s on your terms. It’s quite tricky when you’re coming in after a DJ and you’re the guest; a lot of the time DJs don’t warm up for guests anymore. 

Let’s backtrack a bit. We know a bit about your history and how you came to electronic music through cassettes, then records and raves. What were those first records and what do you remember from the raves?

The eighties are a little foggy (laughs). In my hometown, on Monday nights, we had DJs from London that would play and educate us. We learnt about records like early Frankie Knuckles’ “baby wants to ride.”  And then Acid House, like Joey Beltram’s Energy Flash. We were exposed, early on to those records alongside Soul II Soul and rare groove records. I was fortunate enough to hear a lot of different DJs, maybe not well-known, but really good DJs play a mixture of proto-house music. I remember hearing stuff like “love can’t turn around” and “promised land” before it went into the charts. They were anthems to us long before they became crossover records. 

There’s been this mythic view of that time and the nineties, especially with this new generation coming through. As somebody that’s lived through that time and with the level of your success, what was your experience of that time looking back?

I think we realised we were living through a Golden age. It was very different being an 18 year old in 1988, living through the summer of love and going through outdoor raves. And then moving to London being exposed to club culture and seeing that part of things. You just knew that if you went record shopping, you’d find some incredible records. Being in amongst it, we were quite spoiled, especially looking back at it now. It’s interesting, you were in something, but when you were in it, you didn’t realise it quite so much. 

What do you think of this nostalgic view of that era today, because for me it feels a lot of it has become pastiche?

I agree with you. I think technology is to blame for a lot of that stuff. It’s so easy to make those records now, but making them with the spirit of the originals is a very different  thing. I think it almost regresses, and nostalgia has a very bad effect on dance music. It’s important to be progressive. 

I guess when you started out, you and your peers would be working on rudimentary equipment, and it was about experimenting. 

I think that’s why modular (synthesisers) have their place in the world, but I think that has almost gone too extreme now. I feel that stripped down chaos (from the nineties) is missing. It was still that kind of raw, black funk that was born from Motown, Disco and Prince and then going into Acid House. The laziness  of making music is a strange thing for me, especially when there are so many great musicians around. I do think that is changing. I hear dance music, especially coming out of America that’s pushing the boundaries again. 

I feel artists like Byron the Aquarius and Galcher Lustwerk are exciting in that regard.

Yes, exactly.

But, you’re also a big part of that I feel, with the stuff you’re doing with Honey Dijon and where that has taken you.

I feel like I’m part of something, but I like to surround myself with young, inspiring people. To get that energy from the new generation and be part of that new movement. 

Luke SolomonHow did you and Honey start working together?

We’ve known each other for a long time, since the mid-nineties. We’ve been friends for that long and we kind of grew up together. I think there was a point where she started making more music outside of DJing and we put a couple of things out on Classic, and then we started working together and that led to her album and Beyoncé. It happened organically. We’ve got very similar tastes. Alongside Chris Penny (Luke’s writing partner), it’s like being in a band. 

While we’re on the subject of Beyoncé, how did that happen?

Her creative director is a big fan of Honey’s and we got a mysterious email during lockdown. They told us that she was working on a new album, and they wanted to take black music and dance music back to its roots, and she wanted team Honey Djon to be involved. It grew from that to having two songs on the album. It was a very bizarre and amazing process which ended up in two grammy nominations. (laughs) I laugh every time I think about it. 

What is it like working in that tier of the music industry, coming from House music, which has always been more DIY?

You know the greatest thing about it was that it has been completely on our terms. To imagine the music we make anyway with Beyoncé singing on it, it’s like a dream. We just made the music we make. We may have to move the tempos, or be more creative with the arrangements. It was still based on very cunty records, records from the ballrooms in New York, music that me, Honey and Chris had grown up with. 

We are just applying all our knowledge and all our history and giving it to someone who would understand it. What you hear, beats-wise and samples, that’s what we did. They didn’t change a thing. The only thing we had to do was slow down “Cosy,” that’s when you realise you’re making something for the pop world. 

It’s not your first flirtation with success and being at the top of the music industry. You were there before with The Creeps as one half of Freaks. I read an interview where you said that with a song like Creeps, the money didn’t justify the sacrifices you had to make.  Was there something that has since changed your mind and put you on this path to working with more pop artists?

The Creeps wasn’t really on our own terms. That version of Creeps that came out, came from a remix we never approved. I feel like we ended up making a record that I didn’t get behind 100%. We were young and suddenly money is appearing and people are putting pressure on you to make another record. Lack of experience puts you in a very strange headspace, and I really battled with it. 

Now that I’m older and I’ve learnt from that experience, I know exactly how to do it without making the same mistakes. This is on my terms. We’re doing it without any compromise. In terms of the financial aspects; I’ve been through the loss of a record company, where I’ve had huge debt.  I’ve been in a position where I wasn’t getting any DJ work. I had to get a job and work for Defected. I’ve had to go through so many different versions just to stay in dance music. Now I’m at a point where I’m really comfortable with that. 

You certainly took it in the stride and I think your hundreds of production credits on other artists’ records stand as testament to that. Were there ever any regrets about directions you’ve taken working with other artists?

I’ve never been good at playing the game. I know what to do and how to do it. Throughout all of this, I don’t think there’s a moment in my creative career where I have had any regrets. Even looking back at the Creeps, I don’t think I could’ve made the Beyoncé record without going through that experience. Great music is great music, and I’m not drawn by the spotlight anymore, I just want to make great music. 

And do you approach the music differently when you make music for somebody else than working on a Luke Solomon track?

100%. When I make a record with Honey, I have to be inside her head. It needs to sound like her, it needs her spirit. That comes from intimacy. I like to have intimacy with music that I care about. You have to become somebody else to be those people. When it comes to me, I’m just in my head. 

When it comes to your own music, there’s still a prolific output. Between all your other production projects, your daily A&R activities and Defected and DJing, where do you find the time for all of this; what’s essential to that work ethic?

I’ve always been able to manage my time. If I make a record a week, and I’ve done that for the last 25 years, then I feel like I’ve accomplished what I need to do. Whether it’s a remix, or working on a Honey record, or producing and writing for someone else, as long as I do that I’m good. 

Outside of that, the A&R is just; every Thursday and Friday I just sit and go through music. I listen, I buy records, I travel to buy records, that’s A&R. It’s about attaching yourself to things that you see coming and artists that you might see developing. DJing then feeds from that. I don’t think it’s that difficult to do a lot of things in 24 hours if you are just dedicated and obsessed with it. The only thing I’ve had to change was my day to day at Defected. I’ve got so much production work, so I’m just doing A&R. I’m not the guy that’s on the ground everyday like I was. 

I’ve had to kind of move things around now, because we are in a position where there alot of new opportunities. Obviously off the back of the grammys there are doors opening. Things are shifting and changing, but I’m still the same person doing the same thing, it’s just in a different world I guess. 

Since we’re the subject of Defected. I’ve heard people in the industry acknowledging your role at the label and how you’ve changed things around there. Is there something specific you’ve done there that has contributed to this perception?

(laughs). It’s interesting. Somebody else said that to me, and it’s a lovely thing to hear, but I never really thought about it. My relationship with Simon Dunmore (Defected founder) over the years has always been that I’ve been the yang to his ying. I offered an alternative perspective to dance music, which I think allowed Defected to reach or attach itself to other places or people. 

That kind of just happened. I still have an ear. When Camelphat’s Cola came through the door, I could hear it was a big record immediately, the same with the Oliver Dollar’s Pushing on. I knew they were big records, so I could stand there quite confidently saying, sign these records. It took a long time for people to really acknowledge my place in the industry, and it’s only happened in the last two years.  

Andrew Weatherall once labelled me the unsung hero of House music. I loved him and cursed him for that. I never wanted to be the unsung hero, I wanted people to acknowledge that. Getting that recognition now feels good. 

Working in the background like that as the person that makes these moves that make waves on an international scene, what do you personally get out of that?

(Laughs) That’s a really good question. I spent a lot of time not putting myself first, and doing a lot of things for the culture. Recently it reached a point where I decided that I have to think about myself a little bit more. This next part of my career is where I have had opportunities that I’ve never had before and I thought I would never have. The possibility of winning a grammy and these doors opening that I’ve never had before. I feel like I’m getting reimbursed. 

You’ve seen your fair share of people come up alongside that managed to break into that upper echelon of the underground scene. People like Derrick Carter and more recently Honey Dijon. Has there ever been any frustration on your side?

I’ve watched so many people push past me, and I don’t think I was ever ready. I don’t think I was a good enough DJ or producer. I think I was still learning and I’ve now reached a point – even though it’s this late in my fucking life (laughs) – and I feel like I have an equal standing with those people now. 

I’m not big on resentment and regret, I’ve always been an optimist. If I’ve ever seen on of my peers be in a position where I felt that could have been me, I always thought, that is going to be me someday. I’ve always been an “I’ll show you person.” 

There were so many times I could have walked away. Besides that, losing dear friends, and actually ironically it’s some of that grief that I suffered that’s kept going. If Kenny hadn’t died, life would have been very different for me now. He’s the reason that I got sober; he’s the reason I took my job more seriously; he’s the reason I do what I do. I feel very fortunate.

So you’re able to compartmentalise all that industry stuff from the personal stuff and from the music that you make?

Yeah, now I am. Because I’m comfortable in my own space. I don’t think I have to make a big record, because it’s going to help my DJ career. I don’t have any interest in that at all. You know, I’ve been asked to do a House master’s compilation for Defected, and the first thing that came to my head was; “are you sure?” And then we went through the list of other DJs and artists that have done it,  and I was like; “actually I do get to stand by my peers.”

 

Everything starts with a beat: An interview with Dusky

There’s a sound inextricably connected with London on Dusky’s latest LP, Pressure. From the tangible Garage-influences to the atmospheres, heavily imbued with the weight of a post-dubstep experimentalism, the whole album echoes with the sounds of the English capital and the production duo’s heritage.  

“We both grew up in different parts of North London” explains Alfie Granger-Howell while Nick Harriman carries in a cup of tea in the background of a video call. The pair have been making music together for the better part of a decade with 4 LPs, a few dozen EPs and a record label (17 steps) bearing the fruits of the labour as Dusky. 

Coming to the fore during London’s explosive post-Dubstep era, Dusky established a sound in the fusion between House and Dubstep, bringing the heavy drones of the UKs bass traditions to the slower tempos of House. They broke through with tracks like Flo Jam, and as their contemporaries started solidifying their sounds around traditional genres like Techno and House, Dusky remained fluid in their approach and their style, based on a tradition of Djing that sees them channel a combined record collection through their work.

In different epochs, they’ve focussed their sound on different elements in their own music education only to land on where it all began for them as teenagers with the sounds of Garage. In the recent revival and new appreciation for these sounds, Pressure finds Dusky in yet another phase of their sound together, while retaining that thread with a track like Flo Jam, which was also re-issued this year on their own 17 steps label.

As a record, Pressure picks no bones about its designs on the dance floor, launching into a rhythm and bass combination that anchors the entire record in the club experience. Those familiar disembodied ‘90s R&B vocals that’s centrals to Dusky’s sound drift in and out of tracks, while two-step beats and those hollowed out bass sounds bring an eager Funk to the record. The record shows their evolution and growth as artists continue to hit a nerve, while that virtual melting pot of sounds that makes London such a unique musical entity on the world map, continues to feed their work. 

As Alfie and Nick sit down with a fresh cuppa, we get stuck into a conversation about how the city has influenced their work and how they have channelled various aspects of a UK sound through their work and DJing. We jump straight in with Pressure. 

With those Garage sounds and two-step beats, this record sounds like London. Is that something you were trying to achieve?

Nick: We had a few Garage-inspired ideas, because there a lot of new Garage we were enjoying and playing out in our DJ sets. It snowballed, and before we knew it we had a load of Garage-influenced material.  

Alfie: There was one track from the previous album that started it, called “Eros”. We really enjoyed making that and it came together quite quickly. It just kind of feels like the right time (for this music). There’s also a lot of reference to that era. It felt like the right time to hark back to that era. 

I think it would be safe to assume it’s quite different from your last two LPs Joy and Outer. Was this an outlier record for you or just a natural evolution in your sound?

Nick: It’s definitely natural. It makes sense (in the context) of our influences growing up. We used to listen to a lot of Garage; it was everywhere on the radio during our teenage years. In the narrative of all of our albums, it’s probably a bit of an outlier. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s good to switch stuff up and be a little different.

Another thing that I also noticed that is a little different is that it’s also more immediate. There’s no ambient preamble, it just kicks off with a … kick and goes straight into those dance floor tempos. Was that conscious?

Alfie: I think that is something that is very different to our other albums. The other albums were compiled as a listening experience, whereas Pressure is a lot more club focused. In a sense it is wanting to reference classic Garage tracks and our record collection. Everything starts with a beat and it’s a DJ friendly way of starting tracks. It just felt right for this stuff, because there’s this established thing out of Garage and classic House.

Garage is having a bit of a revival right now. It seems that you are pretty sensitive to what’s going on around you. Or is that just a happy coincidence? 

Alfie: No, it’s definitely influenced by what’s going on. Even going back to when we were telling you about when we started making music, both of us were DJs by then. Obviously we were not doing gigs when we were teenagers, but we were buying records. It’s always been a passion of ours, following what else is going on and seeing how scenes grow and evolve.  When we make something to a certain degree, whatever we feel like will be a blank slate and then the other part of it is referencing what else is going on in the zeitgeist or whatever. 

Nick: You need to be aware of what’s going on, but not try and chase what’s happening. Otherwise you’ll just be trying to catch up. You just need to take influences from what you were enjoying from music. You just need to take that into the music you are making, and inevitably it will be different from what other people have made. As an artist you’ll be bringing your unique take on those influences, whether from the past or present. That’s worked well for us over the years. 

DuskyYou mentioned, Garage was big when you were teenagers. Is that around the same time you started to make music?

Nick: Pretty much.

Alfie: I started making very rudimentary things, when I was 13/14 and that was the kind of peak era, end of the nineties. Garage was everywhere in London. The other big influence around that time was Drum n Bass and the very end of the Jungle era. Both of those things always stuck with us because they were such formative years.

So you were teenagers when you started making music individually, but how did you first meet, and what encouraged you to start working on music together?

Alfie: We met when we were 16. We both studied music in different places doing different things. We had this project before Dusky (Solarity), that we released a few EPs on via AnjunaDeep. 

Actually the first LP as Dusky, originally it was going to be an album under Solarity. It was only halfway through that we realised it drifted quite a lot from the Solarity sound. The label pointed out it was quite different, and you need a new alias.  

That would be around the post-dubstep era. Coming up in that scene, was there anything that particularly facilitated your music and your career?

Alfie: I think we were very lucky in that era that we started Dusky, it was a very interesting time. It was fertile ground, because there were a lot of people coming from these different scenes, which were merging. Dubstep got very noisy, and that put some people off. For whatever reason that “Deep House” sound seemed to attract different people from different scenes. 

Nick: I think what helped push us in that hybrid scene was Loefah. He supported our music on the Swamp show (rinse FM) and at that time that was the shit everybody was into. Even though we weren’t doing anything specific with post-Dubstep, that was the connection with that world and it opened up a lot more gigs for us. 

I think what facilitated a lot of  the creativity in that era was the openness to experimenting.

Nick: For sure. There was a lot of variety, and that’s what I was saying about that time being very (reminiscent) of what the younger people are doing now. 

It also seemed that there was a real platform for new artists to emerge. 

Nick: There weren’t any gatekeepers. You didn’t have to have the approval of anyone to be a success. There were less barriers

Alfie: It was a level playing field.  

The other record that piqued my interest this year was Flo Jam which you re-issued via 17 steps. Flo Jam wasn’t your first release, but certainly a breakthrough record. Would you agree?

Nick: Yeah for sure. A lot of DJs playing across the board played it. We just re-released it because we got the rights back from the label. 

Why reissue it now?

Nick: It was originally on Dogmatik for 10 years…

Alfie: Well they are no-more. It just came down from Spotify one day, and that’s how we realised the rights had come back to us. People were like; “where’s flo jam” and we thought; “we should re-release it.“

Listening to that record today and then Pressure, there is certainly a leap in terms of sound. Is there anything significant change between those two records for you?

Alfie: It’s quite hard to tell. It’s interesting going back analysing our music like that. Often we don’t try to think about it too much when we are writing it. I think they are quite different, but they do have some common influences. 

Nick: There’s definitely a common influence in the sense that Flo Jam was very much influenced by Garage, but at a much slower tempo. Everything was slowing down. Dubstep was quite fast and then House was just coming a bit slower. That nineties R&B vocal is the thread that ties in the stuff with pressure and some of our earlier tunes.

And what’s stayed consistent in terms of the creative process throughout it all in your music?

Nick: Our setup hasn’t changed much, it’s remained in the box. We are actually still using the same speakers.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

Alfie: Yeah, we tried some other ones and then went back. There are some things that keep track of the Dusky sound just in the way things are mixed and layered and the way we sample. I think most of it’s this kind of automatic thing that there’s this consistent sound. Broadly there’s this continuum. 

You’ve remained consistent as a duo too. Whereas some groups may go off into different directions, you’ve stayed together. What is the key behind that?

Nick: I guess it’s because we started making music together when we were quite (young). It’s always worked well, and it’s continued to keep developing.  It’s still enjoyable.  

Alfie:  And we’ve got complimentary skills. I was most interested in composition, whereas Nick was more focussed on the production side of it. That made it a good marriage. The other thing is that we have very similar tastes, but not exactly the same. If it was exactly the same it would be quite boring. 

There’s an idea that working in a duo that the music can go in a direction that you never thought it would, working as a solo artist.  Do you feel that’s true for you and your music or are there more distinct roles?

Nick: It’s completely mixed. It’s the same as when we’re DJing as well. If one of us is playing something the other one didn’t expect, then it just sparks new ideas. 

And while we’re on the subject of Djing; you mentioned earlier that you’re quite aware of what’s happening around when you’re making music. Is that the same for Djing?

Nick: For sure, because we need to be looking for new music all the time, right. To keep our sets fresh. 

The last few sets I’ve heard from you, were leaning to the sounds of House with some connection to the sound of your Joy and Outer records. Will it be leaning more towards a UK sound off the back of Pressure. 

Alfie: Definitely. There’s a lot of really cool straight-up garage or Garage-influenced stuff going on. There’s a nice little crew of people doing that stuff. Labels like time are now which are part of Shall not Fade and Instinct.

So it’s mainly new artists making that style of music, not so much the original artists?

Alfie: Mostly, we still play some old Garage records. 

Nick: Garage is quite an old sound now, so you want to play some of the old records to educate people that didn’t get to enjoy them the first time around, but equally, you don’t want to just turn the whole thing nostalgic. There’s loads of new stuff going round, which is pretty good. It’s about finding that balance between the old and the new and keeping it interesting. 

While Garage is big in London, it’s not always recognised in other parts of the world. In your travels as DJ’s have found it is easy to translate those UK sounds, or do you find yourselves having to adapt?

Nick: You have to adapt for sure. In Germany, for example, they are not as keen on stuff that’s not as straight up four to the floor. And in America they are quite open, but if you play something that is Disco influenced, sometimes they really hate it. 

Alfie: It’s different in the States, since when we first started (playing there), they didn’t want anything too experimental, whereas now it’s been very open crowds. We’re playing Garage, which is very specific UK stuff, and the kind of stuff that would maybe not have worked that well before, but it seemed to go down really well on the last tour there. Each club or festival is different. 

I’ll find my place: An interview with Move D

We talked to Move D about his prolific career as a DJ, producer and record label owner through various stages of electronic music. In an extensive interview we cover highlight from the early nineties through his revival and his latest Pandemix Live Jams series ahead of his appearance at Skranglejul.

David Moufang (Move D) hadn’t owned a pair of turntables at any given period of his career until the pandemic. The 56 year old DJ, producer and record label owner has avoided the traditional DJ setup at home, but like so many other things that changed with the pandemic. With the prospect of long periods of isolation at home, he thought “I’ll get a pair of Technics.” David’s intention turned to streaming some mixes via social media channels during the down time, but he soon started “running into problems”. Over-eager bots would shut down his streams with even some of his own work causing copyright conflicts. 

It was unsustainable, and David found he had to change his approach. He would need to circumvent these issues and the only way he’d be able to do that was with unreleased, original material. He packed away his new, pristine pair of decks and brought out his well-worn synthesisers and drum machines. He would “play new stuff with the gear,” making only original tracks in the moment for a virtual audience tuning in from home. He called the series Pan de mix

As the pandemic eased out of lockdown and the world started getting back on its feet, David was left with all this music on his harddrive and “offers from other labels” started to follow. Doing some minor post production on what was essentially the unaltered live performances, some of the tracks found their way onto Smallville Records with the rest of the music consolidated as a series of releases and eventually an album called the Pandemix Live Jams.

Pandemix Live Jams is just the latest in a prolific career as a recording artist and DJ, one that has its origins at the beginning of DJ culture and has continued to evolve and contribute to the contemporary history of electronic music. The record finds itself at the revival of he and Jonas Grossman’s legendary Source Records and its sound can be seen as a direct descendent of the sounds and spirits that influenced the start of the label. There’s the warmth of analogue equipment and the imperfect touch of human improvisation ebbing through the entire record, much like it did on that first record he and Jonas released as Deep Space Network almost thirty years ago.

Coincidental encounters

“That’s why they are called jams, because they really are jams,” says David from a telephone call via his hometown Heidelberg in Germany. He’s called Heidelberg home throughout his entire career, and it’s in the small town that he started his career as a DJ back in the eighties. 

“Life is just a stream of coincidences,” he ponders when thinking back to that time. “Born with the Beatles,” David moved through “Led Zeppelin and probably AC/DC,” during his formative years while he was learning to play the guitar. At that time, Heidelberg was the headquarters for NATO, and with “30 000 American soldiers in a town of 150 000” American music was in the air… literally. As a youth he could tune into the American radio station broadcast from the GI barracks, exposing David to a wider range of music than local stations would offer. The Americans “played stuff you wouldn’t hear on German radio like Parliament and Hendrix’s voodoo child” and it piqued a latent interest in music that eventually went beyond rock music. 

As he was coming of age, he started frequenting one of the “mainstream” discotheques in town where two DJs with “American GI backgrounds” would hold court over a record collection seven days a week. ”There was a shelf behind the DJ,” remembers David. “The club owner would give the oldest, most respectable DJ in the club (some) money to go record shopping and those records would go into the shelf.” While most of the crowd was dancing and having a good time, David was “watching, kind of nerding” and taking notes on where all the “good records” were kept. 

On an occasion when one of the American DJs got into “some trouble” with the local police and the discotheque was left in a crunch without a DJ, David stepped up to challenge. He persuaded the owner with; “I come here regularly and I know where the good records are.” That was all it took and David was inducted into the resident DJ lineup. 

By that point David had already been into electronic music for a while. An initial interest came “when the technology arrived” around “1976, the year before the prophet 5 (synthesiser) was invented.” Not being able to afford a piano, his mother bought him the more affordable (then not so much now) electric Fender Rhodes piano, planting a seed for manipulating electronic sounds. It evolved from there with the first “major milestone”, a Tascam four track cassette recorder, before Grandmaster Flash’s “The Message” eventually saw David fall into a rabbit hole of machine music. “That was a very important track for me,” insists David, “it changed my life”. That track encouraged him to buy his first drum machine and started the decline in an interest in rock music altogether.

By 1985/ ‘86 he heard the first DJs beat mixing on trips to Italy, where clubs were  “spearheading” the evolution of the dance floor at that point. At his local discotheque however “beat mixing wasn’t really a thing.“ It was more of a “mainstream place” where you “would hear Happy Birthday by Stevie Wonder every other night when it was somebody’s birthday.” David stepped into this role on a pair of rudimentary belt driven turntables, spending a couple of hours every night practising beat mixing, before the audience would inevitably flock in and start requesting the last chart hits. 

He never considered it a job, thinking this was going to be a mere stepping stone between school and university, “like a bartender or waitress.” His first inkling that this could be a job, was meeting a friend of a girlfriend who had been “Djing for 12 years,” and even then it seemed incredulous. “To me this was shocking!” snickers David. “I was full of pity for this guy.” The money David had been earning at the discotheque “was barely enough to pay rent” and he “couldn’t” even “afford to buy vinyl with my money,” but the fiscal focus took a back seat to the music he was playing and starting to make in his free time.

Rock n Roll is dead

While playing in bands, he had had access to a studio and like so many of David’s stories, it was mere coincidence that he started making music for “short movies or advertisements” out of that studio during this time. It put him on a “path moving away from the band” and towards early prototype Techno without even knowing it. “I was making Techno in a way like all electronic music, without thinking this could actually be released. I hadn’t heard my first house record yet.”

“It was all thanks to D-Man really, who started putting on Acid House parties around ‘88” in town, insists David about his introduction to this music. The DJ, who is a little older than David, brought characters like Ron Trent and DJ Pierre to Mannheim, a town just outside Heidelberg, with people from as far afield as France and Switzerland frequenting what would become a scene. David ”got to hear these amazing DJs” and it had “a huge influence” on his own nascent prospects as a DJ and producer, but it wouldn’t be until he met Jonas Grossmann that these efforts started to take shape as Deep Space Network and Source Records by the early nineties. 

Source Records and the scene that he and Jonas created around the label which included KM20 studios and the local “hangout” Milk! has remained a touchstone on the history of Techno and House music. Aphex Twin would stay with David when he was in town, while the KM20 studio would feed into Milk and become legends in their own right. Milk! was an ambient café, “a kind of hippy place” according to David, where you could get your coffee served by Jonas or David while being served the latest creations coming out of KM20. We were playing this music and we were the people making this music” and this “really drew people.”

Move D

Those rose tinted glasses aren’t looking so rosy

David rambles through these pivotal moments in his career in a matter-of-fact tone that places all the emphasis on characters like D-Man – and later in the conversation, Lakuti – without much concern for his own incredible achievements. He almost brushes over his entire career in the nineties summing up a decade in a few concise sentences before moving on again to the present.

“It’s easy to be nostalgic,” he says before warning, “but I wouldn’t over-idealise it.” Yes, it was originally “ grounded in this freakish thing,” where impromptu parties would pop up in abandoned buildings and the woods,” but it was also the dawn of Techno’s commercial success and with that came pitfalls. 

Deep Space Network and Source records would be part of this momentum too. “People were ripping the albums out of our hands,” says David without hyperbolic inflection, while he and Jonas were being flown to London for NME photoshoots. With Source Records they had found a niche as Techno was booming with the advent of what David defines as “listening Techno,” but we would probably call ambient today. There was certainly something in the air at that point which coincided nicely with things like Warp’s Artificial Intelligence releases, and they all soon found they had become the darlings of the media. But trends moved quickly, and in “one year Aphex twin was god and two years later the headlines were ambient is dead.”

Source Records remained prominent during this period, with classic records like Roman Flügel’s “Ro70” and Move-D’s “Kunststoff” entering the label’s catalogue, and even during ambient’s death spiral they were still introducing new and exciting artists like Lowtec to the world. 

Throughout all this time however David’s career as a DJ remained suspiciously low key. “It didn’t really matter in the nineties,” he says of Djing. “It was all local or German clubs.” He was “doing ok, making money” from selling records, and the label would sustain him as he became a stay-at-home dad. He would play “Techno parties,” both as a DJ and a live performer, and while there “was extra money” in that at a time when the fees were particularly high, he never considered it a career. 

And by the “end of the nineties the introduction of the cd burner and then Napster was finally it for the prospect of making money as a label” too. “Winding down the label” during this period for the first time,  “less and less gigs,” started coming David’s way and in that unique catch 22 for any DJ, if “you’re not active, you’re forgotten in no time.” By the early 2000’s, David says; “my career was rock bottom. Nobody cared, neither for the records nor for the Djing. I was at a point, where I thought eventually I have to find myself a job.”

The job search never had materialised however.

Revival

“Again, it’s one of those lucky instances,” says David. With the global village shrinking in the shadow of the internet, David found fortune in the advent of social media. A friend had introduced him to MySpace and then suddenly, without much prompting, people from places as remote as the British midlands were reaching out. One of those people was Lerato Khathi, better known as Lakuti and synonymous today with her label Uzuri records. At that point she was still “putting on illegal warehouse parties in London” and invited David as a fan of Move D. 

“I didn’t even have a proper record bag,” remembers David who also recalls being “really nervous.” Playing after another DJ with a minimal set, the trepidation of following the stark sounds of his predecessor was getting closer. Luckily, the transition between DJs coincided with a power outage; a “ twenty minute break” and time for David to compose his thoughts while the crowd re-adjusted. It turned out to be a “good thing” and he was able to “reset the mood with cool Deep House.” It hit a nerve with an audience possibly somewhat fatigued from those minimal bleeps and “people lost their fucking minds.” It was pure kismet that it happened at a time that coincided with an era of Deep House’s own revival and in that scene Move D yet again became a vital proponent, bringing new audiences to this music and his own back-catalogue. 

He became a fixture on the scene, playing places like the much lauded invite-only Free Rotation festival, while releasing music again with labels like Workshop, Running Back and of course Uzuri knocking on his door. And while his working methods might have “been changing drastically” based on a curiosity that continues to go unsatisfied, there’s that consistency in the warm analogue sounds, and the imperfection in human improvisation that has remained consistent. It’s still there in Pandemix Live Jams finding a natural home in the 2nd phase of Source Records as an exclusive vehicle for his own music.

Move D remains a constant presence in the underground, and as a DJ he’s staked out a claim as one of the best. This is possibly his greatest claim. His ability to find some common ground with crowds, while playing on the dynamics of his own musical history has garnered a reputation as a DJ other DJs like to admire. 

I’ll still find my place

Today his sets can go “from more broken beats” to “Chicago acid” with a focus on “mixing styles” through his set. It’s what he admires most in other DJs too –  “That was my biggest complaint about the early 2000’s; I could be there for two hours and it was like they were playing one track.” And he’s not eclectic for the sake of casting a wide net, it comes down to his own personal tastes. ”Do what you believe is right and don’t try to please because you think you know that’s what people expect from you,” he says in some grand philosophical gesture. 

David doesn’t often talk in platitudes like this, so when he does, you have to stop and take a beat to let it sink in. There’s a wisdom there that only experience can bring, and he carries that over to a sincere commitment to the music he plays. “I want to entertain them, but I have to like it as well,” he adds as he considers the statement. We’re a long way from the eighties where a person like David “would get into a fucking fight about music,” and today he’s eager to share the optimism of an interconnected world where people are less stubborn.

He can see the positive aspects of being more “open-minded” about music, even if it might not be to his favour. He’s realistic that perhaps he’s not in that sweet spot of popularity like Source Records was in the 90’s or Deep House was in the early 2000’s, but “it’s ok” says David.” I’m aware my personal taste could be right and the pinnacle of what is hip and other times… they are far apart. Now we’re at a point where it’s medium far, but I’ll still find my place.” 

That place is enshrined in the history of electronic music today. 

Romjulsfestivalen 2022

Our annual Christmas celebration returns unfettered with a full lineup and some new concepts

After a couple of years of compromised Christmas celebrations we’re pleased to announce that our Romjulsfestivalen returns in full force, featuring international and local guests for the week-long Christmas celebration. Jaeger and Natt&Dag present Move D, Dusky and the newest Ostgut signee Fadi Mohem alongside our residents and a couple of new concepts between the 25th-30th of December.

Our stalwart concepts, Øyvind Morken’s Untzdag, Boogienetter, Skranglejazz and BigUP! take their places, while new concepts, Helt Texas and Flux join the lineup for the first year.

It kicks off with Øyvind Morken’s annual 1st day of Christmas foray, with the DJ celebrating an incredible year for his music, before moving on through Boogienetter and ending up at BigUP! Oslo’s Drum n Bass and Jungle crew are in the basement for this edition on a Friday no less, with a marathon DJ lineup that will make the foundations shake.

Ole HK presents Helt Texas on their usual Thursday spot with Dusky, Vibeke Bruff and Synk, after a Techno assault midway through the week with the Flux collective. After their last visit to the basement, Flux takeover both floors with newly inducted Ostgut resident, Fadi Mohem. Skranglejazz are back in their usually spot with House veteran Move D returning to Jaeger.

Tickets are already on sale via ticketco so make sure to grab a ticket to avoid the queue.

Premiere: Henrik Villard – Jordbær (BCR)

Henrik Villard pre-empts his latest release with an email claiming “Jordbær” and its two companions on his and BCR‘s next release, “Sveve” is a “slightly different style from me.” On the first listen it’s familiar alongside Villard’s efforts for the BCR label. Its deep groove carves trenches in the recesses of traditional House, while the artist’s effervescent touch for atmosphere remains at the fore of its appeal. Pads and synthesisers establish a heady firmament of textures, anchored in a low end rumble. A lysergic 303 bass-line emerges from the lower register, growing into the central motif alongside the determined groove.

It develops into fully formed song inspiring another listen and then another, and it’s at that point when you hear it. There is something different here. Whispers of noise stick to the atmosphere and the low bass takes on a menacing character. There’s something raw and visceral operating in the background behind the established  melodic ideas and pristine production touches.

“Jordbær” and the rest of “Sveve” finds Henrik Villard explore a new realm, something indefinable and far from obvious. It’s not exactly a new direction from the artist, but hints at some new terrain from an artist whose musical prowess has been established with records for the likes of labels like Mhost Likely and more recently for Tensnake’s True Romance. We’re excited to premiere “Jordbær” today ahead of its official release this Friday and caught up with Henrik to ask about the exact nature of this new direction. We and ended up going deep into his production processes and the nature of BCR in this lengthy email exchange.

Henrik talks about the BCR nights at Jaeger; his “sound”; and how Sveve came together in this Q&A. “Jordbær” and “Sveve” is out this Friday via Bandcamp and catch Henrik Villard and BCR in the booth in December.

Hey Henrik. Thank you for taking the time to answer some questions. You introduced this record via email as “slightly different style from me.” What makes it different?

Hey Mischa! Thanks for having me. Yes, I did. The whole EP, Sveve, is a product of some intense hardware-jams, which is a shift from my usual in-the-box process of making music to being more hardware oriented. The limitations imposed by hardware made me realise that I need to approach the music making-process in a new way – which led to me being more open minded in terms of the ideas that came from jamming on the synths.

A typical Henrik Villard-sound might be a lot more lofi and not necessarily something you’d hear in a club setting, while the tracks on Sveve still have a slight lofi-feel to them (especially on the pads, in my view) these are tracks I’ve played out in a club setting.

What influenced the changes in your approach this time around?

It’s kind of two fold. I’ve felt for some time that I’ve been stagnating with the music I made, and sometimes it was not even that fun to make (a bit frustrating). So I decided to experiment more and try different approaches to making music – to make it fun again!

You’ve released quite a bit on other labels in the past. Was there any intention to make something for BCR this time and what changes when you do something for our own label?

Yes, I recently released an EP on Tensnake’s label “True Romance”, which I’m very proud of. The intention to make a release for BCR kind of grew at the same time as I started to experiment. And I knew that no matter what, I’d have Anders and Perkules’ blessing to express myself. I feel a lot more confident to experiment (even though it’s not really wild experimenting) with my tracks when the intention is to release it on BCR. It feels like I’m much more free to do what I want.

What in your opinion is the defining Henrik Villard sound in records like these?

To be honest I have a hard time pin-pointing what “my” sound is – maybe it’s in the way I imagine a baseline. To me, that’s been my main focus for a couple of years when I make music. I’ve let my TD-3 run hot on these tracks, and I like to think that how I process and automate it as it runs throughout the tracks is part of what makes up “my” sound for these tracks. Where does a certain element come in in the track? What kind of atmos/background sounds are used to “lift” the track? I think the three tracks are firmly rooted in a house-tradition, I use 909 and 707 drums and acid-lines, bass-motifs that are meant to be something that keeps the groove going throughout the track. This release really is an exercise in house-music as I’ve perceived it at the time.

You specifically chose “Jordbær” as the premiere. Why did you choose that track from this record?

I really like Jordbær cause the idea came together real quick. I just had an idea of what the track would be and mashed it out. It’s hard to pick favourites, but I think this track stands just a tad bit closer to my heart.

In what context would we usually find this record in one of your DJ sets?

I’ve played it out a lot. I think it works well to set the mood in a set, and I like to think that it has some sort of dubby-quality (especially The piano). Not really a peak track, but before and after, hehe.

The thing that strikes me first is the bass, that deep rumbling consistent underneath the track. Tell us a bit more about how this track started and took shape?

The track started with the rimshot rhythm that goes through most of the track, then came some more drums. Then I made a pad sound, and also “jammed out” a baseline. After that I tried out a couple of acid-lines until I got the one you can hear in the song.  

Any specific records that influenced this sound?

Genius of Times’ “Sunswell” and Qnete and Carmel’s “Vierfecta”. The “floatiness” of Sunswell and the static nature of the drums and rhythm on Vierfecta.

At its crux though it’s that acid refrain that comes in during the height of the track, breaking through the atmosphere. It’s more like a song than a track.  From where do you draw your ideas for arrangement and melodies?

Oh, I feel like I’m the least creative when it comes to arranging tracks. I usually work with 16-bar sections, and I work a lot with filters. So I usually introduce an element (a stab, vox, etc) in the start of a 16-bar section, and use the filter to fade it in. For melodies I love to make a sound on a synth, and while I’m turning knobs something (like a meloyi, a motif) usually just catches my ear.

At what point do you realise a track like this is good enough to find a spot on a record? 

That’s a tough one. Because when you make the track, you listen to it over and over again. And it can sometimes be a bit hard to judge whether a track is good or not. I think we all know the feeling of working on a track the whole day, and then when you listen to the same track the next day, it sounds like garbage/crappy/bad. In my case I go off the tracks (and ideas) that don’t sound bad the day after, and if I like the idea I’ll keep working on it. It is also very helpful to get input and feedback from Anders and Perkules.

BCR has now been fully inducted in the Jaeger roster. Tell me what you guys take away from your nights here and how it folds into what you do at the label? 

For me, our summer residency (Sundaze) helped me evolve my taste in electronic music, it really helped broaden my horizon. We’ve also talked about that through our nights at Jaeger we’ve learned a lot about crowds, DJing together, and I’ve learned a lot about what kind of tunes work out (or not). A key takeaway is that I’ve noticed when a crowd reacts to a song, I’ve tried to take the memory or the sense of the crowd with me when I make music.

From the stuff I’ve been hearing from Anders Hajem and Perkules coming via the label, it seems there’s a general progression towards that new plateau. And you saying there’s a slight difference in this record, suggests there’s some evolution there. Is that right?

I would very much agree that there’s a progression or evolution of our respective sounds. Over the last 12 months I’ve gotten a lot of inspiration from tracks and ideas that Anders and Perkules have shown me. They have been a great source of inspiration, and I like to think that the same goes for them. So I think we are able to inspire each other to take things towards a new plateau. Also I’ve had a sense of need to do something new in my music, and tried my best to act on this. 

And where do you see that evolution taking BCR and your own music in the future?

I’d really like for this evolution in sound to take BCR to new heights, I’d love for our music to reach more people. The same goes for my own music. We’re planning some exciting things for BCR so keep an eye out for updates.

Watch Digitizer (live) from the Jaeger Mix

Stream the video from the last jaeger mix session featuring Digitizer and his machines live from the sauna.

During the last Jaeger mix Electro descended on the backyard, curated by Elektro Romantik’s Robotic (Robin Crafoord) and featuring Digitizer. The Oslo native brought his machines to the sauna, to take an intrepid trip through some of his recorded works. Besides recording the live set in audio, we also trained a couple of camera’s on the artist for a video that you can stream now.

Read the interview with artist and find an audio only version of the mix here. Digitizer talks extensively about his history, electro and why he enjoys the live format.

The Jaeger Mix returns in December with Keecen and Olefonken.

Keep ’em Dancing with Boris Dlugosch

“My main goal when I play… I want everybody to have a good time.” Boris Dlugosch speaks from experience. “When you’ve played music for thirty years” like Boris “and you’ve played all kinds of styles of music,” all sense of ego and hubris falls away and what’s left is the music and dance floor. 

Boris Dlugosch has made a notable career for himself built on this foundation. He was there at the start, back in the eighties at the legendary Hamburg club called FRONT. He rode a wave of success as a producer concurrently with House music’s rise to fame in the early nineties with people like Masters at Work clambering for his work. He introduced Mousse T. to the world during a time when the track “Horny” propelled that artist to the mainstream. He found notoriety as a remix artist, adapting some of the world’s most revered pop songs for the club, and throughout it all he remained a steadfast figure in the booth. He continues to be a touchstone for some of the world’s recognised DJs like Gerd Janson and our very own Olle Abstract, and today it his profile as a DJ is encapsulated in something like mythic lore.

Boris Dlugosch plays LYD this Saturday

He started his career during a time when New Beat, House and Synth pop lived in  harmonious synchrony in the mix. He was an earlier adopter of Chicago- then New York  House. He played the latest from the French electro scene when acts like Daft Punk were still in their infancy and continued to adapt and evolve through the ages. Today he can be found playing at places like the Golden Pudel at home and while he still releases original music, most notably through Running Back, he remains a DJ’s DJ. His latest record, courtesy of Running Back stands testament to that. Unlike 2017’s Traveller on the same label, this is not an original work, but the second instalment of a compilation series, celebrating the music he played at FRONT. It’s the place where Boris had made his debut and retained a residency until closing in the mid nineties and probably the first highlight on his illustrious career. It’s here where I want to start our conversation when I call him up for an interview. 


The compilation ties a red thread from his beginnings up to the present day, and as reflection of a time and place, it’s significant, but coming out in a contemporary backdrop it stands on its own with its raw inhibited energy and indefinable sonic aesthetic, it captures a certain spirit through this timeless music. But before we get there, we have to acknowledge the city from which it was born. 

Boris Dlugosch is in Hamburg when I call him up; a city with a lot of music history especially club music. With artists like Helene Hauff, Boys Noize, Digitalism and Koze also hailing from the German city, there’s certainly a legacy there that’s hard to pin down. If ”the Beatles coming to Hamburg” has anything to do “with the first House club or the record store where Boys Noize and Jens (Digitalism) worked,” Boris can’t say, but he recognises “certain things bring other things” and there has certainly been a hive of musical activity ever since, and perhaps even before the fab four (then five) set foot on Hamburg soil. 

Unsurprisingly, Boris too “was always into music.” He had a keen ear and “picked up a lot of new music from the radio.” He played drums in a heavy metal band amongst other things and listened to everything from rock to electronic music. It was, like so many other things in Boris’ career, “a coincidence” that led him to the decks initially and eventually on a path to becoming a FRONT resident. 

The story goes that he had been working as a checkout bagger at a local grocery store and the till operator at the time was the mother of the cover guy at FRONT. On one fortuitous afternoon “he invited” Boris “to his house” where Boris found the lure of “two turntables… and a huge record collection” all too appealing. Boris realised immediately, “I want to do this” and as luck would have it (again), his new friend was looking to part with  setups.

Boris inherited a “pair of rubbish turntables and a mixer” and started learning the craft of the DJ. He was still “too young” and looked even younger, to enter FRONT at that point and had to “wait a year.” Meanwhile he already “had the tapes from ‘83 and ‘84 from the club,” and he could hone his craft through what he heard on those tapes. Boris had “always had an ear for music” and seemed to understand the mechanics of DJing intuitively. Apart from being able to distinguish the music being played, he also started to grasp what the DJ was actually doing. At FRONT particularly, “it wasn’t about the show or how good you were,” he remembers, “but more about the selection of music.” Eventually he put a mixtape together with that focus, which landed in the hands of the owners at FRONT. His selections had particularly resonated with the forces behind the club and by 1985 he joined Klaus Stockhausen as one of the club’s only two residents. 

“I was about 16 when I first went to the club.” Boris remembers a completely “different universe” when he walked through the doors for the first time. It was a largely gay crowd wearing “a lot of leather” with “all kinds of weird people” in the mix. Pictures from the time show a dance floor of men in various stages of undress, and by all accounts it was not about what you wore at FRONT, but by what you didn’t wear. The leather, the moustaches, the marble-like physiques, and even the name, all exuded masculinity, but what struck Boris “the most was the music.” In a matter of a few visits. He had become “totally hooked.” Boris “had been to two or three other clubs before, but nothing like this.” 

“The music was 80’s, high energy, some disco and pop music.” Klaus Stockhausen played 12” versions of familiar tracks “being played on the radio,” remixed by the likes of Shep Pettibone and reconstituted for the dance floor. The DJ booth was nothing but a “box,” obscured by “dark windows,” where the DJ or crowd could only distinguish silhouettes on the other side. It was all “part of the mystery” of the place, but it was also a time when the “DJ wasn’t such a big thing.” People didn’t come to see a DJ, they came to hear the music and at FRONT the selection of music was in a class all on its own.

By the time Boris stepped into the booth at FRONT in ’85, the “first House music records from Chicago came in.” It ”sounded different from anything we heard before” and Boris’ musical ear gravitated to it. “I was always into electronic music and weird sounds” considers Boris. “I was also into melodies and vocals and House had all of that. It had soul and Funk, but at the same time it was something completely new, from another planet.” These records would be part of a “great mixture” of sounds that would include everything from those early pop records, Belgium New Beat and eventually the sounds of Acid coming via the UK. 

Literally hundreds of mixtapes exist online from FRONT during that time, and skimming through them is a window into a long lost forgotten world, where some things are instantly familiar or at least accessible and every track permeates with an infectious groove. “Maybe listening to the mixtapes today,”  considers Boris, you might feel like the DJ is “only playing the hits,” but back then you only “pulled out the best and strongest records.” There was “no ego, no showing off” from the DJ according to Boris –  how could there be you could barely see the DJ – and everything the DJ played or did was in order to “keep ‘em dancing.”  

For ten years this was Boris Dlugosch’s only objective as a resident at FRONT. Together with Klaus Stockhausen, they had created their “own little Paradise Garage,” but they were still an anomaly. At the time Boris “was probably picking the same records as David Morales or Frankie Knuckles,” but without any knowledge of these DJs, it was pure coincidence. He had no reference point, or mixtapes to influence these decisions. “The good thing about back in the day is that you didn’t know about anything else,” remembers Boris. “Now you think the epicentre of the music is London and New York,” explains Boris, “but all over Europe there were little tiny clubs all playing the same music and had the same vibe going.” In Hamburg especially, they were their “own little island,” isolated even from the rest of Germany who had largely been focussed on the sounds of Trance and Techno at the forefront. House music was still largely unknown, but people like a young Gerd Janson would flock to FRONT to hear this new unusual music. 

As the nineties rolled in and House music’s popularity grew in a world that became more connected, Boris too was swept up in the furore around the genre. The music he had been playing for years at FRONT had finally reached an international audience, and where before in Hamburg, they had very little connection beyond the city, suddenly they were part of a global phenomenon, thanks to the Americans.  

By that stage Boris Dlugosch had started remixing and editing his own records. As a DJ “you start thinking this record could sound better,” and with more “access to studios and gear” he developed these skills while still working the floor at FRONT. The “big breakthrough” came when he stumbled across a record at his local record store. “It sounded poppy, there was something there,” he remembers today. There was a phone number on the record – yes, people put their phone numbers on dance records back then – and he called up the artist. That artist turned out to be a nascent Mousse T. Boris made the journey down to Hanover, to a big studio complex, where he met with the young artist and they “immediately clicked and started producing together.” Adopting the pseudonym BOOM! they released “Keep Pushing.” in 1996. 

Boris had already started touring as a DJ, mostly in Germany alongside visiting American dignitaries like Todd Terry, which led to invitations to industry events like the Miami music conference. It was in Miami, purely by “coincidence” yet again that the new record found their way into some influential record bags. Stuttering vocals by Inaya Day sit alongside striped percussive work with gritty synthesisers pulsing through the mix. It had that immediate crossover appeal and the industry responded in kind. Faxes from the likes of Tony Humphries started coming through praising the track, and the record was eventually licensed to Louis Vega and Kenny Dope’s Master’s at Work label. 

It was an “absolutely crazy” time for Boris as “things came together.” His ear for a melody, his intuitive sense of rhythm and his experience of the dance floor culminated in a style of House music that was primed for the commercial market, but it never really came to fruition for Boris like it did for Mousse T. While his colleague and production partner found success with his track “Horny,” Boris’ efforts remained largely relegated to the underground. Even though Boris Dlugosch was on the A-side on the original “Horny” promo release with “Live Your Life Your Way” – a track with as much merit as its B-Side counterpart – it was the Mousse T. original that garnered most of the attention (it’s controversial title for the time probably influencing it) leaving at least one Discogs user to ponder: “Quite why this little gem from Boris Dlugosch never saw a commercial outing remains a mystery.”

Boris Dlugosch

The music industry is a cruel mistress and Boris Dlugosch, whether unlucky or overlooked, never saw the mainstream successes that many of the people he worked with enjoyed. “After a couple of years, you are not getting your royalty statements and you’re not getting paid and these guys have Maseratis and Porsches,” you can’t help but question the nature of the industry. While people like Todd Terry were getting well “40 000” for remixes on the same records that Boris were doing for free, and royalty cheques from the success of “Keep Pushing” never found his pocket, Boris remained seemingly content in his own success. Talking to him today, there is no sense of anger, frustration or regret. “In Germany, we were still the outsider because Techno was big and our music was still in small clubs,” he insists. Even while he would often hear his tracks on the radio in places like Ibiza and Italy during the height House music’s success, it seems Boris Dlugosch prefers to exist, in the small clubs that thrive in the underground.

He still prefers to be considered more of “ a DJ than a producer” and rarely plays out his own music, with one of the few exceptions being his last EP of original music on Running Back. “That’s the last track that I really loved that I did.” He is more focussed playing at places like the Golden Pudel in Hamburg and as a DJ he’s remained a fixture at places like these throughout different phases of club culture and club music, adapting with each new zeitgeist.

During his days at FRONT, at a time “when the music continued to get harder,” he changed direction literally overnight. “From one weekend to the other I switched over to playing only New York underground music.“ The same happened again in 1999 and 2000 when, at a time when House music was on MTV and entrenched on the radio, he decided to focus on the French Electro sound at the forefront of a new scene. “I was just bored,” remembers Boris of that time. “Hearing a mixtape by 2 many DJs,” he found music that played on nostalgic feelings, and yet remained contemporary. “They (2 Many DJs) were mixing all this music I loved from childhood (rock music) together with club music,” and again  Boris found a voice in that sound too. 

Throughout he’s remained a relevant figure on the scene, and still plays all over Germany, perhaps only taking a break during the pandemic. Respected by the underground, Boris Dlugosch has remained a significant DJ, and there’s few working in the DJ and clubbing scene today that haven’t been in awe of his prowess in the booth at one time or another. His days at FRONT is enshrined in club music history, reflected yet again in this Running Back series, and as we as a clubbing industry and community continue to move away from those early underground roots into commercial avenues, those times still echo with the raw and inhibited emotions that is at the core of club music for any given epoch. Few embody that spirit and that attitude to a dance floor quite like Boris Dlugosch. 

Chop Chop: An interview with Glitter 55

The tempo in Jaeger’s basement is creeping up to that 150BPM mark. It’s not even midnight yet, but people are literally bouncing off the walls as they push past the wall of bass to get a glimpse of the DJ. I’ve become accustomed to hearing these excessive tempos  recently, but there is something unique to this particular experience. Where those tempos usually exist for saccharine melodies inverted in some functionalist dystopia, there is something more enticing and esoteric about what I’m hearing at this moment. Exotic textures, heavily borrowed from African and Arab traditions, weave through monstrous electronic kick drums to make an intricate lattice of unique rhythm structures and ethereal melodies.

This is Glitter 55 in full effect. The Moroccan DJ has cultivated a unique sound as a DJ over the last 5 years as she consolidates music from the Arab World and Africa with the stark sound of western electronic music. “I play music from the UK and US – bass music mainly”, she confirms, “and I try to put some influences from home or from Africa in there.” Home is officially in Rabat, but Glitter 55 speaks in a melodious French accent, the Morocco inflections softened by years spent in France. She introduces herself as Manar and we sit down in the backyard to the sounds of House music playing in the background. She’s just finished her soundcheck, and I was lucky enough to get a private sonic glimpse for the night ahead.

Her sound unfolds like a collage of disparate influences of a global diaspora, deconstructed and re-assembled for the purpose of the dance floor. At heart of it all is her unique musical heritage. Taking elements of “percussion from local (Moroccan) music called Chaabi”,  “vocals from Raï” or drums from South Africa’s gqom artists like DJ Lag, Glitter 55 reconstitutes these pieces alongside those UK and US bass sounds that she finds via soundcloud and bandcamp. It lends a well-travelled aesthetic to musical constructions that would be familiar to any club goer, especially those that came out to hear her play for Oslo World on the night. It’s world music, not in its truncated form as a non-western music, but rather in its most obvious description. It’s music that truly represents the world, or at least more of it than just one region.

It’s a sound Glitter 55 seems to embody in personality more than just taste with very few references or similarities being drawn to other DJs or artists. In a mere five years she has created the type of artistic identity in a sound that usually takes a lifetime to master, starting with a passion for music and leading to Djing; her Frissa nights  (“It means chop chop, always in a hurry, and a big mess”) and soon the recorded format (“Hopefully it will be released next year”) consolidating all her early influences and contemporary electronic music. 

Growing up in Rabat, Morocco, Glitter 55 was exposed to music from all over the world from a young age. Her mother listened largely to “Egyptian music” while her father gravitated towards the “fusion” pop sounds of something like the Moroccan equivalent of “the beatles”. She also remembers her “uncle listened to a lot of French pop music” and she still admires pop music with everything from “Egyptian and Lebanese pop,” to “Dua Lipa” informing her tastes today. Hearing all these “different styles of music… growing up” instilled an early passion for music, leading to enrolling in the Royal Gendarmerie’s music conservatory at a very young age, where she studied “music theory and singing”. 

At 16 she moved to France, arriving at Amiens, before moving to “Lille to study cultural studies and then to Paris.” It was in Paris where she started working as “an agent in the music industry”. Taking care of Arabic artists like Tinariwen amongst other things, she was certainly busy in the scene, but had made no significant steps towards her own career as a DJ until later. If she was a precocious music talent it’s hard to know at this point, because she worked largely behind the scenes, but there was clearly a nascent talent when she took to the decks for the first time. 

“I had a friend who was promoting a party, and was doing everything during the party,” she recalls about her first furore into Djing. “He was having issues with a band, and he asked me to play some songs for 10 minutes. I was like, ‘no, I don’t know how to use this machine.’” It went from trepidation to excitement, but she quickly found an experience she “enjoyed a lot” and wanted to learn more. “Thanks to youtube” and “a lot of tutorials” she learnt the basics and started taking her first steps towards a DJ career. She took on the name Glitter 55 as an homage to her Grandma (55 representing the evil eye of local tradition) and her personal affection for glitter socks (which I hadn’t noticed she was wearing on the night) and set on a course to a career in Djing alongside her work in the industry.

Manar had not been a stranger to DJing and electronic music in Morocco however. Attending “some festivals” and “rave parties,” she encountered a sound that leaned to “Trance and psychedelic stuff and hard Techno,” but it wasn’t until she started DJing herself that she started to explore the vast expanse of her own musical influences. It’s “music from Morocco or Africa, mixed with music that I love and discovered in France,” she considers. 

Today she “can play hard Techno and Disco and other stuff,” interwoven with those Arabic and African influences. With few others exploring these eclectic dimensions from the booth today, she has been left largely to her own devices and has prospected the limits of her own formative tastes extensively through her sets and her radio show on Rinse FM.

A mere two years after making her debut as a DJ Glitter 55 was inducted in the Rinse FM family as a resident for their French station and soon thereafter started playing around Europe and further afield. She “was amazed” when the call from Rinse FM came so soon after picking up DJing, but she is certainly a unique entity on the Radio’s programming schedule today. Her show “Atay Time” sees her “invite the artists that I love” from “all over the world” retaining that obvious connection with her own roots as  guests like Lara Sarkissian and Jabes represent a vast global diaspora. 

Artists and DJs like these and Glitter 55 herself  have brought a distinctive Arab sound to these western contexts in what is beginning to feel more than just a moment for our scene. Ignoring for a moment that people like Acid Arab and Asian Dub Foundation have experimented with Arab and Eastern sounds in electronic club music for some time, artists like Glitter 55 are breathing a new life into the clubbing landscape, by bringing something unique and contemporary to fore. 

In Paris, she has found a scene that shares the ideology. “It’s not a specific place,” however, “it’s different venues and promoted by collectives, who get people from all across the Arab world.” It’s “represented by artists from Africa living in Paris,” people like ”Deena Abdelwahed from Tunisia” but it’s not merely contained in Paris either. It’s also “in Amsterdam, where there’s a lot of parties being promoted by people from the Arab world.” 

The sound has reached Oslo too on occasion, with the likes of Sama AbdulHadi and Omar Soleymann making visits to Norway in the recent past and it certainly has captured an audience here too as we witnessed from the turn out for Glitter 55 and Acid Arab for the Oslo World event. 

Even within that wider appreciation for Arab and African sounds within a western musical dialect, Glitter 55 remains different. Her Chaabi influence which is “more about the  melody and the drums, the rhythmic structures of the sound” make for interesting bedfellows with the bass heavy rhythms of gqom and the blank slate that Techno and Bass music provides for these sounds as a platform. “You can mix the two quite easily,” says Manar “with the rhythmic structure” finding an interesting sympathy between genres like “bass music” and the very same “Egyptian music” she grew up listening to as a child. It’s music that resonates with western audiences as well their African and Arab counterparts, with the only difference being that “people sing along”  to the music back home.

People might not be singing along to the music at Jaeger on the night, but regardless, it’s made an indelible mark on the crowd as the 150 beats per minute subsides into quiet before a cheer erupts in the quiet. 

Charting a new trajectory with Interstellar Funk

Sitting down with Dekmantel artist and DJ, Interstellar Funk ahead of a showcase at Jaeger to talk about the evolution of his sound as an artist and his trajectory into one of the most respected DJs on the circuit today.

Interstellar Funk (Olf van Elden) is an anomaly in our musical galaxy. His music, whether he’s indulging early influences of Detroit House and Chicago or stepping off the grid into new ambient realms, is incredibly hard to categorise and illusive in its appeal. There’s always something functional lurking in the background, with a sense of a tranquil melancholy delivered in bristling synth melodies and uninhibited rhythm sections. 

His records have found their way on labels that thrive and indulge that sonic aesthetic – labels like Rush Hour, L.I.E.S, Berceuse Heroique and Dekmantel – and as a DJ he’s expounded on that sound, cultivating a unique reputation amongst his peers and audience alike. His music has always been very “synth based” with a nod to the vintage sounds. “I always use old synths,” explains  Olf, “and it’s always based on little melodies, less sample based, less drum based.” 

Between his associations with Dekmantel; his earlier work at Rush Hour; and his various connections with the people behind Club11/Trouw/De School he is something of an Amsterdam institution in his own way. A regular fixture at the Dekmantel festival since its inception, Interstellar Funk is practically part of the crew there. He is one of the most-featured artists on the lineup, and when they are touring the Dekmantel festival around clubs around Europe, he is on the figurative tour bus.

It seems only apt that his debut LP comes via the Dutch label. After nearly a decade of 12” and EPs Interstellar Funk has finally made his debut on the long player format in 2022 with Into The Echo. The record, coming together during the pandemic, sees the artist channel the sound he’s cultivated across his previous records towards a softer, more organic sound, suited for the album package. 

Delving into his past experience at Rush Hour, the Amsterdam-based record store of some repute, where he started as an intern, Interstellar Funk charts a journey through those formative experiences digging through the record store’s shelves on this album according to earlier interviews. The result is an LP that surprises at times in the context of Interstellar Funk’s more club-orientated work and yet again defies categorisation. Into the Echo reflects on an introverted time for humanity in a way that only Interstellar Funk could, and while it moves away from the club, it hardly breaks all contact in the machine-heavy aesthetic of the artist. 

It’s something he is carrying through to his next record at least, a 12″ on his own label, created around the same time with his piano teacher and friend Loradeniz. “It sounds quite similar” to the album says Olf with the pair bonding over “same kind of music” and recording the record pretty fast during the same pandemic period as the album. It suggests an evolution in the artist’s sound and when we sat down to talk to him before his appearance for the Dekmantel showcase last Frædag at Jaeger it was one of the many questions we had lingering. 

 

Let’s start with the album. Why was this the right time for you to put out your debut LP?

I wasn’t really planning to do the album. I always wanted to make an album, but time-wise it was always a bit difficult, because I was playing a lot and I needed more time in the studio. I was supposed to release a 12” on Dekmantel in 2020 and then the pandemic started, and I pulled back the 12” because it was a bit more clubby, and it didn’t make sense. And then I was like: “I’m just gonna keep on working on the project and see where it goes.” 

So the tracks weren’t ready ahead of the album?

I had those four tracks ready, and I took those four tracks as the direction of the album. In the end only two tracks made it onto the album and the rest didn’t. It was more like now I have the time, and it was nice to have a project, because I needed something to work on. I just decided to try to make an album and see how it goes and this is what came out. 

Did you have an idea for the record like what you wanted it to sound like?

I had some inspiration and some ideas. Like with electronic albums, I always like it when it touches more genres and not only club stuff. With an album you can go deeper and different directions than with 12”. I took the freedom to go a bit further from the dance floor. 

That’s something I picked up from listening to it, it sounds very organic compared to the past 12’s you’ve released.

I think, because I had this in mind, and that I spent so much time in the studio, it probably changed my sound a little bit. It evolved into something.

Do you think it might make it into future records?

Yeah, I’m not only interested in club music, I like other stuff. The idea of making albums and doing whatever you like, that freedom you have, it’s really interesting.

My association with your music has always been strongly toward beat music with a dark, wavy sound. Are you stepping away from that sound?

The problem is people always compare you with something. If you play a few wave tracks, people suddenly think you’re a wave DJ, but I like it all. I was  always into Detroit, Techno and Chicago. I like really dark, experimental and I like wave a lot, but it’s not like I’m only focussing on those things. There is a lot of experimental ambient stuff I like, and maybe you can hear that on the album. 

Yes, I can certainly hear some of that ambient influence. I read somewhere that your time at Rush Hour influenced it too. How did the record store influence it?

I worked there for eight years and I discovered a lot of music there. When I started working there I was mainly listening to Detroit and Chicago, like Omar S and Theo Parrish. They also did a lot with Brazilian music and African music (at Rush Hour), so I learnt a lot about different genres there. You’re also surrounded by records and people that know a lot about music, so you definitely learn to appreciate other styles. Maybe more than when you’re only a DJ and focussing on club music. A little Disco and Italo, but a lot of Jazz, Brazilian and African music. 

When did you start working at Rush Hour?

I started there as an intern in 2012. I worked out of the office, mainly for the label.

How did you end up at Rush Hour?

I went to art school and I had to do an internship, and my direction in art school was in music. I was already going (to Rush Hour) to buy records and stuff, and my dream was always to work there. 

And this was before you started DJing?

I was already buying records. 

I read about your brother being involved in club 11 (predecessor to Trouw and De School). Was that your initial introduction into clubbing and Djing?

Yes, club 11 was a really good club and they did loads of cool parties there. I always went there with my dad to support his (Jorn van Elden) parties. 

How old were you at that point? 

15 or 16. Because my brother was doing the parties it was fine (to get in). I don’t think they were that strict. 

And your dad would go with you?

Just to support. He still comes to parties now and then, he was at the (last) Dekmantel festival. 

Does he have an interest in this music?

He’s more interested in what I do. Just a proud dad, standing in front. 

What kind of music was he listening to when you guys were kids?  

I don’t think he was interested in music at all. They were listening to music, but it wasn’t like I grew up in a musical family or something. 

I guess, because club culture has been so ingrained in Dutch culture, that it’s not unusual for the older generation to go to club nights or music festivals.

Yeah, maybe it’s more accepted, that’s true, but my Dad was an (athlete) so he wasn’t drinking or doing any drugs. He wasn’t into club music at all when he was younger. Maybe people that grew up in the eighties, they got into club music, but my dad is a little older. In the 70’s you didn’t really have that. 

So, since you weren’t really into that music and didn’t grow up in a musical family or anything, what drew you to club music initially?

I just liked the parties and the festivals. It was just a new world opening up. I wasn’t necessarily interested, but I did like the music. It was either really heavy Techno like DJ Rush or it was minimal like the Villalobos stuff. I liked it all and just partying. People showed up at afterparties and we had a turntable; we had one Technics and one shitty turntable and people just started to learn how to mix.

You came up at the same time as Dekmantel and I remember at that point Detroit House was huge in Amsterdam. Was that the stuff you started buying?

When I started going to Amsterdam, that’s when Dekmantel started going with their own parties, and that period from minimal shifted to Detroit and Disco. We saw Theo Parrish for the first time; it was a really interesting period. My first records were really shitty, but I remember buying the first 3 chairs double LP (Moodymann, Marcellus Pittman, Rick Wilhite, Theo Parrish), and I still have that record. I was also a huge fan of Omar S and I’m still a huge fan. 

At what point do you go from Detroit House and start digging further into other genres?

I don’t know. I think you find a new genre, and you go deeper and you start buying and playing those records. I also used to buy a lot of Disco, because I saw Theo Parrish playing it, but I figured out maybe it wasn’t really my thing.

Were you making music throughout  all of this?

No, I started later. 

What was the catalyst for you to start making music?

I had a group of friends and one of the guys, Deniro used to have a lot of gear, an 808 and  909 – all the cool stuff.  Because of him, I collected money for my birthday and bought a Juno 60 (synthesiser). I always tried to make music on Ableton (computer software), but I couldn’t’ really figure it out, it was too complicated for me. I got a Juno 60 and a 707 (drum machine).

And then the debt starts… 

(laughs) It was definitely  an addiction.

You started around the same time that Dekmantel started. Did you always have a close relationship with them?

Amsterdam is pretty small and back then the scene was even smaller. There were a few parties. You had the Rush Hour that was pretty big, and then you had a party every Thursday at this club, everyone used to go. They (Dekmantel) used to play there and they had their own party in a small club in Amsterdam. It was a dirty place, mirrors on the walls and a dancing pole in the middle. It was a trashy, shitty place, but in a cool way.

Because the weekends were really long; you would go out on Thursday, then you go to an afterparty and thgo out on Friday. You hang out with the same people for hours and days, and you build up friendships quite fast. 

You’re probably one of the most frequent return guests to the festival. 

By now I might be. 

So doing the record for Dekamntel must solidify something?

I already had a few tracks on compilations (with Dekmantel). It was just a natural relationship, and it’s always nice to work with somebody you can trust and that you know really well. 

Getting back to your sound, do you think it marks a new chapter in your sound as an artist?

I think your sound always changes. If you look back to legendary producers, their sound always changes. If I listen back to my first record, it’s not something I would play now, but I also don’t hate it. It’s a lesson you keep learning. Your next release should always be better.

Country girl: A Q&A with Kristin Velvet

Imagine a line-up including Kerri Chandler, Honey Dijon and Carl Craig, all on the same night. Even in our wildest dreams at Jaeger, we’ve only managed to showcase these amazing talents one at a time. So, consider the triptych of DJ legends, with Kerri Chandler being the opener! Now imagine this is your introduction to a nightclub.

This was the case for Kristin Velvet when she first set foot in Watergate. It’s no surprise she immediately fell in love with the place. Today, that introduction has blossomed into a residency, where she’ll regularly feature on Watergate lineups and often alongside legends of that ilk.  

Kristin Velvet is a DJ, producer and label owner with some well-traveled credentials. From her origins in rural Australia, her start as a DJ in Tokyo, to playing in London, and her eventual relocation to Berlin, Kristin Velvet has channeled an extensive musical experience through what she does as a DJ, a producer and record label head.

Taking care of the daily activities at Arms and Legs, a label she runs alongside founders Daniel Steinberg and Nils Ohrmann, Kristin Velvet has carved out an incredible career, going from the “euphoric” House of her youth to playing groove-focussed House for peak time, often featuring mostly music from her label. She is a frequent contributor to Arms & Legs too, making important contributions, like the P-Funk sampling, dancefloor monster “The undertaker” or the 90’s House delight that is “It’s a game”, when she is not working alongside legends like Felix Da Housecat or being remixed by others like Paul Johnson.  

It was in fact her daily activities as a label head that she got her foot, followed by some Arms and Legs, in the door at Watergate, making her debut with a special label showcase featuring none-other than Paul Johnson. That was in 2017 and now Kristin Velvet is an integral part of the Watergate roster, often representing them in visiting showcases. With the Berlin institution celebrating their 20th anniversary this year, she has secured another seat on the tour bus, and as she and Kid Simius make their way to Jaeger this Saturday, we sent over some urgent questions to Kristin.

She talks about her rural upbringing, how she found dance music, her time in Tokyo and her relationship with Watergate in this Q&A session ahead of her appearance at Jaeger this weekend.

Tickets via @ticketco

20 years of Watergate! That’s a momentous occasion. Do you remember how you became aware of the Berlin clubbing institution?

Momentous indeed! So around 2007, I was living in London, there was a lot of Berlin hype at the time. My friends from WetYourself played at Watergate and all our crew went over for it. I remember it clearly because I couldn’t go, but everyone was raving about how great Watergate was. I dreamed of going there one day. My heart still bursts when DJs from other countries play at Watergate and their pals all come to Berlin for the occasion, it’s a vibe. 

Why do you think its legacy has endured the way it has? 

It’s the team people who make the place, the culture, and the legacy. You can have the best venue, best location, the best sound system, and the best DJs but without a good solid team the club is not going to work, or maybe for a short while but not for 20 years! Shout outs to all the people working behind the scenes week in week out who bring these spaces we love so much into existence. 

Its reputation precedes it. It was the first kind of super club I was familiar with before I even came to Europe and I guess you might have had a similar experience coming from Australia. Why do you think it’s had such a far-reaching appeal?

Word of mouth. DJs and dancers from all over the world come to Berlin, have amazing experiences, and go back home and tell their mates. 

Arriving in Berlin, what was your first encounter with the club

To be honest I can’t remember my first encounter, those early Berlin clubbing years are a bit of a blur, but I do remember the first time Watergate left a deep impression on me; it was Jerome Sydenham’s 50th birthday. I arrived at the club just before it opened and Kerri Chandler was warming things up on the Waterfloor, then we headed up to the main floor where Honey Dijon was busting it out, followed by Carl Craig who played on of the best sets I’ve ever heard, then back downstairs to hear Dennis Ferrer in full flight. Everyone was on fire that night, Jerome had lots of his friends and family there, people were jumping on the mic, hugging in the DJ booth, it was such an amazing vibe. I was so inspired after that night I sent an email to the booker, which led to me eventually becoming a resident…. 

How did you end up becoming a resident there?

Around 2017 Paul Johnson did a remix for Daniel Steinberg on our label Arms & Legs, so I wrote to the booker at Watergate (after Jerome Sydenham’s 50th) to see if we could do an Arms & Legs label night together with Paul. The booker didn’t write back for 3 months or so, but then out of the blue and much to my delight, he did! It was such a huge thrill to hear Paul play. Shortly after that Eats Everything and Maya Jane Coles both booked me for their nights at Watergate, then we did another Arms & Legs label night together with Felix Da Housecat. At this point, I was playing at the club almost every month, so the agency invited me into the office for a coffee and asked if I wanted to join the agency. It happened very organically. 

You’re on the lineup often, and with a varied selection of guests. How do you approach each event and what remains central to it all when you play at Watergate?

Every time I get booked at Watergate it’s still a huge honor and not something I ever take for granted. I approach each event thinking about how I can give the ravers the best possible experience, so they leave the club with wonderful memories and big smiles. 

What’s the prevalent charm of playing at Watergate, and what do you think you can do there as a resident that you can’t really get away with at other places?

I think you can get away with whatever you want wherever you want if you do it with conviction! As a resident though it’s a privilege to be familiar with the sound system and the space which comes in handy for testing new unreleased tracks. 

How do you present that to a new audience when you do these kinds of Watergate tours?

I love doing the Watergate showcases because I genuinely adore all the other residents, we thoroughly enjoy each other’s company and I think the people in the club feel that. We differ quite a lot musically which is great, it makes for an interesting and varied night of music.

There’s also these other aspects to you… Kristin Velvet, the artist and the label head. How do all these things fold into what you do as a DJ?

It all works together – the music, the label and then of course the DJing. The majority of what I play in the club is our Arms & Legs releases. 

I’ve read that you grew up in rural Australia, and it was country music that first got you dancing, but it was your time in Sydney that introduced you to clubbing. What was the music that specifically bridged those two worlds for you?

The bridge was house music, Armand Van Helden, Ultra Nate, Soulseacher, Phats & Small, Mousse T, Black Legend, I had just started sneaking into clubs, it was euphoric feel-good music and very accessible even to a country girl like me.

I imagine like for most of us, it started on the dance floor. What eventually led to Djing?

I started DJing when I lived in Tokyo. I became friends with the people who were running club nights there, which led to me DJing and eventually doing my own events. It was a very inclusive community, everyone played at each other’s nights it was lots of fun.

What were you playing at the beginning and how did it evolve from there?

Back then in Tokyo it was very different, I played everything from The Rapture, Le Tigre and LCD Soundsystem to The B-52’s, Daft Punk, Violent Femmes and Whitney Houston. It wasn’t until I moved to London around 2006 that my tastes started to change. 

Tell me a bit more about Tokyo. I simply love the record- and music culture there. Did you pick up anything specific to your time there that has followed you as a DJ?

Tokyo blew my mind. I worked in Shimokitazawa which had incredible record stores, it was a long time ago though so I wouldn’t say musically there was anything that stayed with me from back then. 

From Australia to Tokyo and then Berlin, what was the thing in Berlin that set it all apart for you, that thing that makes it such a special place for nightlife and club-culture?

The history, the culture, the lack of rules and the long opening hours. 

Yes, in Berlin the nights are pretty long, compared to somewhere like Sydney or Oslo. How would  you adapt your sets, for these shorter nights?

I’ll just pack the bangers! Kidding… it depends on the set time, the crowd and on so many factors. 

This is a return visit to Jaeger. What did you pick up from the last one that will affect the way your set might go?

I’m so thrilled to be back, I had such a blast last time. Honestly one of my favorite DJ booths I’ve ever played in. This time I’ll use your incredible rotary mixer. The sound is so warm! 

And how will Watergate and that celebration hopefully be reflected in your mix? 

I have a track coming out on the Watergate 20 years compilation album which is set for release in November, so I’ll probably give that one a spin.

Primal frequencies with Kid Simius

Kid Simius stands out in the current electronic dance music landscape. Performing live in the type of context others would DJ and channelling a flair for the balearic through the stark minimalist textures of Berlin Kid Simius is an anomaly on an international scene. 

Kid Simius is José Antonio Garcia Soler. Born in Granada, Spain and residing in Berlin, Germany, he operates in the no-man’s-land between those very distinct worlds with music that travels from DJ Alfredo to Modelsektor on its own unique path. He’s been releasing records since 2012, mostly on his own Jirafa Records, but he’s been playing live longer still. 

Although his chosen moniker might allude to something primal, it’s only in the way it works alongside the cerebral. Known as something of a synth wizard in music industry circles, he’s performed on- and contributed to chart-topping success stories, and when he’s not behind a set of keys, he’s behind a set of decks. As Kid Simius he programmes “unorthodox beats” between  a fusion of electronic and organic sounds that move from the dance floor to a spotify playlist.

Stretching across his output, are individual pieces which can go from the dub-step infused noise of a track like “King of Rock n Roll” to a bubbling, cut-n-paste House EP like Chicken Mango. Likewise his albums have gone from the digital  surfer-rock of his first LP Wet Sounds to the galaxian Disco of his second LP Planet Of The Simius, all offering a different perspective from his vast musical lexicon. There is no musical genre or style that uniquely defines him and yet the fluid movement between his records are expertely honed into a distinct voice that emerges through his live performances.

From festival stages to cosy clubs, and even a toilet, Kid Simius’ live shows pack a punch, utilising a formidable array of synthesisers, drum machines and computers to deliver striking shows, both sonically and visually. 

As a resident of Berlin’s famous Watergate club and he has been installed in one of the elite clubbing institutions in the world, and as he and they make their way to Jaeger next week for the official Watergate 20 celebrations, we caught with José to find out more about his music and his live show. 

He talks about the year he spent in Oslo, his life at Watergate, his music, his live show and how he came to be where he is today in this extensive Q&A session. 

Hello José. I think the burning question is; What is your relationship with Watergate and what significance is there to 20 years of the club for you personally?

My relationship with Watergate started in 2005 when I saw a documentary about the Berlin scene called Berlin Digital in which the club was featured.

Then the first time I went to Berlin my German friends took me there and I had an amazing time. It was amazing to be 19 years old and after watching so many documentaries about electronic music in Berlin, listening to the label’s releases and suddenly being there and being able to experience it in first person was great.

Watergate is an incredible label, their compilations are legendary, the DJs, the club everything, and to be able to stay at that level for so many years shows what a great job these people do.

I joined Watergate when my agent Max joined the agency. From the first moment they have made me feel at home and are giving me a lot of support, they accept me as an artist just as I am and that shows that not only professionally but in the human aspect they are excellent people. 

It’s certainly one of those iconic venues today. What in your opinion makes it so special?

The two dance floors are amazing, the big one with the LEDs and the small one with the river views, it is a super nice place and incomparable with other clubs. Then the bookings they do in the club are very diverse, so I always find DJs that I like that I want to see, they are very focused on having a good balance between known people and being open for new talents.

You’re no stranger to Oslo either, I believe. Tell us a bit more about that? 

I lived in Oslo one year from 2007-2008 when I was studying psychology and I used to hand out Flyers and stick posters in the street for The Villa in exchange for a Guest List.

At the end of the year they let me perform in the small room, I still have photos of it, I enjoyed it so much. It was an amazing time and I got to see a lot of Great DJs at The Villa.

I remembered I contacted them via my space and sent a couple of sets and demos of my tracks. They replied that they had a dj from Barcelona playing next weekend and that he didn’t speak English very well and that if I wanted to have dinner with him before the show and take care of him a little bit during the night. So I started, I just wanted to be there and help out.

Kid Simius performing at Villa

Do any of those great DJs stick out in your mind now?

Yes of course, I saw Modeselektor, Diplo, DJ Koze local heroes like Ost & Kjex

So it be safe to say you have something of a home advantage when playing here. Do you think it will influence the way your live set will go?

Well it’s been a long time since I’ve been to Oslo so many people I had contact with no longer live there. I don’t know how it will influence my show to be honest, what I do know is that it will be a super special show for me and I will be super nervous and excited because Oslo and The Villa were extremely important in my development as an artist. The year I lived there was a super inspiring and very influential year for my future.

My neighbour at that time was from Berlin, we became friends and later through him I moved to Berlin. In Berlin he took care of me a lot and today he is not only one of my best friends but also my manager.We are super proud of the amazing things we have experienced in the last years and it all started in Oslo, in a place called Kringsjå.

You grew up in Granada, Spain. Can you tell us a bit about the area and the musical sounds of the region?

Granada is immense. It’s crazy for the things that have happened there. Many cultures have lived together for many thousands of years and that is what makes it a super attractive city.

That’s why artists like Leonard Cohen, Joe Strummer, Lou Reed or Patti Smith were fascinated by the city and its culture. 

Musically, although it has often lacked a lot of support from public organisations with respect to clubs, studios, rehearsal spaces or festivals, the amount of musicians and artists that coexist in it make it super special. There are always new bands, new artists, new collectives, new djs, it is a very young city. Musically it’s very eclectic, something between flamenco, indie rock, techno and break beat…hahahah

At what point did electronic music enter your life, and what were the bands/producers/DJs/genres that informed your earliest listening adventures through electronic music?

For me there were several key moments, to name one was my visit to the FIB in 2005, I think I was 17 years old and coming from a small town where not many bands came to play suddenly going to a festival like this marked me completely.

I always bought on cd, the compilations of that festival, when I got to the festival I told my friends, someday I will play here, my friends laughed but 10 years later I got it. Sometimes when they ask me about my musical influences I say, the line up of FIB 2005 is my musical influence.

To name some of the artists that played at that festival: Pan Sonic, Mouse on Mars, LCD Soundsystem, Ladytron, Underworld, Basement Jaxx, Milo Nick Cave, Oasis, Andrew Weatherall, Four Tet ….

How has Berlin informed you as an artist?

Berlin is a crazy city, things are happening all the time, the amount of new artists, new clubs etc. is incomparable with other cities, the freedom that exists is beastly and obviously to make electronic music there is no better city, also compared to other European capitals it is still not so expensive and that makes it a very comfortable place for artists.

The only bad thing for me coming from the south is the winter and that it gets dark very early but well you know that here in Oslo.

What significance does the name Kid Simius have?

The name came to me in less than a minute and I never thought it was going to be something serious. At the time of myspace me and my friends made an account as a collective and when we had to put the artistic names of each one, I was the youngest of all of us by far, so I was the kid and I have a lot of hair on my body and didn’t like the word “monkey” so I chose “simius” which is “monkey” in latin… and all of that in less than 30 seconds. That’s about it.

Back in 2012, you were involved in a song with some commercial success called Lila Wolken. What effect did that moment have on you as Kid Simius if any?

It’s complicated to measure the impact it had for the kid simius project since I wasn’t the main artist and only the composer, I guess the people in the scene and the industry knew who was involved in the song, but that’s all, I just kept my way.

It was, anyway a very nice experience in somehow, I was very young and I don’t know, suddenly you make a beat, you send it to some friends, they write a song, it comes out and suddenly it’s number one in the single charts, double platinum, you hear it on TV, on the radio, everywhere…and you think wtf 

It’s very different from anything you make today. When you reflect on it, how does it fit into the Kid Simius universe?

Well, to be honest, I’ve tried to do what I like at all times, I’m super eclectic and I don’t like to pigeonhole myself with anything. I always like to have fun in the studio and have a good time.

Sometimes I see my tracks as if they were photos of a certain moment in my life and they remind me of that time. Once I read something like “ if Yamaha can make pianos and motorbikes at the same time , I can make jazz, techno and grime, don’t label the music, let the music just be music”.

Would it be safe to assume that there was a shift in your approach/sound around your solo record, your LP “Planet of Simius,” and what inspired this new direction/evolution?

Yes well, I am constantly inspired by many things, especially moments, the beginnings of disco music, then house and techno are very beautiful moments in our recent history that have inspired me a lot.

Everyone no matter what colour they are, no matter what social status they have and no matter what clothes they have, all together on the same level dancing around the DJ.

The figure of the DJ surprising with new styles of music, mixing new things, Larry Levan Paradise Garage etc. etc. that inspired me a lot in that LP.

Also the idea of mixing different styles of music together was very attractive for me.

There’s been more of a balearic nature to your music since. Perhaps that’s just me inferring, although I did read an interview where you mentioned DJ Alfredo. How has that sound influenced your records and your live show?

Well , DJ Alfredo represents the romantic way of electronic music, eclecticism, all together we are one ,freedom & hedonism. He didn’t produce so much music but his legacy as a dj is crazy.He inspired so many people, he is The Velvet Underground of the djs. I had the opportunity to interview him on my radio show and he is one of a kind.

O really, we have to hear it. And about the live show… What is it about playing live that particularly appeals to you, and why have you chosen to present your music in that way?

It’s like a way I have to express myself, sometimes as a teenager or young adult you don’t think why you make things, you just do it and you do it because you need to do it, because you need to express yourself and I guess for me to play live is one of the best ways I have to express myself since I am a young adult.

Is it about recreating the sounds of records like Chicken Mango?

Yes

Does playing the music live factor into your creative process when you sit down to start recording and/or music?

Sometimes yes sometimes not, I try not to be functional when I am making music and not think if im playing live I should do like this or that. But sometimes it influences me. The beauty for me of making music is that every time is different, sometimes starting with the guitar, or with the keys, other times it is programming a beat, other times is sampling something…

Most of your releases come through your own label, Jirafa Records. How do you compartmentalise the aspects of running the label from the creative pursuits of making music?

Here I have to say that we practically don’t release other artists on the label, it’s almost only to get my own music out and we only work when there is a release, the rest of the time it’s on stand by.

On the other hand I have my friend and manager Chris, who I met in Oslo who takes care of the communication with the distributor, pitching for Spotify etc. I am not doing it alone. What was a bit more work was to set up everything , like publishing code for the label , Bandcamp account, Soundcloud, insta, Facebook etc but once you are set up it’s ok.

We also use the label as a platform for other artist to release their dj mixes // podcast …basically I upload the mixes to our platform and then play the mixes on my radio show I have monthly on the German fm radio where I had artists like Octo Octa, DJ Tennis, Ellen Allien, Cinthie or Sofia Kourtesis.

Then again there must be a sense of creative freedom that you don’t get from releasing on other labels?

Well, at the beginning to be honest it was because it was difficult for me to find a label to release my music, I don’t do music on demand, first the music. The thing is when you release on another label , you send some tracks you have done, they pick the tracks they like and that’s the release.

When you have your own label you have to make this decision, too. You have to select your tracks ,on one hand its freedom because you choose what you release, but on the other hand sometimes it gets tough to decide things on your own the whole time.

I’ve noticed there are a few things happening on the record front for you this year, and you’re playing live often. It seems it’s a busy period for you. What’s been the inspiration behind it and what has it again inspired?

I just love to do different things the whole time and stay busy. The live set is for me a kind of a challenge of how I should play electronic music live. There are no rules on how you should play electronic music live, that’s why the amount of possibilities or stuff to do is unlimited.

Is there anything you’re super excited about coming up in the near future?

Yes, I´m super excited about my show at Jaeger !!!! I got a release coming out on the “20 years Watergate” compilation and now I’m working on a EP with Rhode & Brown coming out next year probably.

Will we hear any of it during your live show at Jaeger

Yes, 30% of my live set is unreleased stuff coming soon.

Normann & Ole HK present Helt Texas!

There’s nothing subtle about a Thursday night out. It takes commitment and a certain devil-may-care attitude to spend the precursor to the weekend on the dance floor. It’s a culture all on its own and over the last year we’ve seen it flourish into a night all onto its own. Music and mood with a predisposition for the unencumbered, it has established itself as one of the highlights on our week-day calendar in no small part to Normann & Ole HK. 

The DJ duo have become a fixture in Jaeger’s sauna over the last year, playing alongside Finnebassen during his residency at Jaeger. They’ve become known for their charismatic sets with a broad appeal that is able to unite a dance floor. As we bid farewell to Finnebassen, it was only natural that they would step into Thursdays and with some pretty big shoes to fill, they too are going big, as they bring their new concept Helt Texas! to Jaeger’s sauna in October.

Launching this Thursday, Helt Texas! consolidates all that experience Normann & Ole HK have garnered over the course of the last year, reconstituted as its own. It fosters the cult of Thursdays with a style of music and a mood that they’ve mastered in their short tenure here already as they seek to develop it even further with guests that share their approach. As familiar fixtures on this scene, both in the booth and beyond, they’ve amassed a significant collection of friends and together they will call in a new era for Thursdays with  Helt Texas!

As Normann and Ole HK take the helm this week, we sent out some questions to ask about Helt Texas! and what the significance of the new night from the DJ’s perspective. They might be a bit hazy on how they met, but they are clear on their new concept and what they look to establish for Thursdays at Jaeger. 

So Helt Texas! There’s certainly no mistaking the vibe of the night based on the name, but what does it reflect in terms of music?

Normann: Who knows? I don’t think we know ourselves… but expect a lot of groove and energy. We might end up playing slow and steady, but we can also end on 30 trance, soo.. I know – Helt Texas!

Ole HK:  For me the name of the concept is more about seeing our Thursdays at Jaeger in a bigger picture than only the music. We want it to be “Helt Texas” in the way that the backyard is packed with the best people we know and where you can go mental to the best underground music 

You guys have been doing these Thursday nights for a while, often stepping in for Finnebassen, so what does it mean for you and the night as you officially baptise it?

Ole HK: First, I have to give Finn a big big big shout out and say thank you for that he invited me to be a part of his “Finnebassen Thursdays crew”. For me as an up and coming DJ it was pretty huge to be invited into his DJ stable. He showed me so much music and gave me so much inspiration over the last years that I will be forever grateful for what that talented man has given to me and my DJ career. So the fact that me and Edvard are taking over the Thursdays  is pretty huge and something I’m really proud of. We have been playing every second Thursday this summer so I feel the backyard is in safe hands, so for now it’s all about counting days to kickstart our “Helt Texas” concept 6th October!!! Can’t wait! 

Normann: Yes, It means a lot! Both of us have played, both at Jaeger and other places for years, but to have a concept of our own is a dream come true! Jaeger is by far one of our favourite places to play, and to be able to have a residency here is great. The soundsystem, the mixer and of course the people here are just amazing!

Can you give us the musical direction of the night in a couple of words?

Ole HK: Couple of words? Impossible. Come check out instead! We’ll not disappoint

Normann: As mentioned we don’t have a really specific sound, but what I think will be common for our nights musically is firm and steady grooves. Probably a bit darker than straight up disco, but hey expect the unexpected; sometimes it will be as pure disco nights.

Ole HK: Often when we start our Thursdays we build it up from some funky/oriental 105 bpm stuff and finish it with some banging house/techno around 126-128 bpm. We love it like we love all kinds of genres and tempo in electronic music. 

You appear to be very busy, playing at least twice a week, alone and together and at different places. How does what you plan on doing with this night differ from what you’ll do at these other places?

Ole HK: Yes I’m playing every week around town, but it’s not that often where I’m playing a club gig from 22:00 until closing 03:00 actually. So the fact that we have five hours all alone to build and create our musical story is kind of special with the night. 

Normann: In terms of music it’s hard to say how it will differ, but because Jaeger is such a unique place with a certain vibe it will for sure be one of the highlights during the week (at least in my opinion). It’s a free space where everyone is different, but at the same time alike in many ways. Of course we will play a lot of music that we know people in general like, but we will also try to “educate” people by playing things they didn’t know they liked. That’s what DJing is to me at least, and Jaeger is a place where this is possible.  

What do you bring out in each other when you’re in the booth together?

Ole HK: First of all it’s very easy to play with Edvard cause he is insanely good and talented. Edvard is a real musician, DJ and producer so he knows what he is doing. But to answer your question it’s always nice to be two on it. If I’m struggling a bit to find the right tracks or I’m in a “bad mood” we can discuss and help each other. Edvard has more experience so he can spice it up sometimes when I’m too focused on going safe and “pleasing the crowd”. Also after a year as b2b-partners we have been close friends so sharing moments and nights together is just awesome and more fun than doing it alone. I love Edvard as a DJ and partner, but also as a person and friend! 

Normann: I think we fulfil each other really well! And for the last year or so it has only gotten better. We don’t have to physically communicate, we just kind of know where the other one is. Even though  we have the same taste in music, it is not identical of course – but that’s a good thing I think. So hopefully we would be able to surprise you guys as much as we surprise each other. 

How did you guys meet?

Ole HK:  I met Edvard first time in 2018 at The Villa. He doesn’t remember that, haha, but I said hi to him and that I’ve heard him playing around and that I liked it. And to confirm what I said about him in the previous question he was so humble and kind and took his time to talk with me when I was the new guy in town who moved from the North of Norway. So in 2020 I started working as an event organiser and booking manager for DJs at a venue and nightclub called Pakkhuset. Edvard was of course one of the first guys I contacted and since then the relationship has been growing to be bigger and stronger every month.

Normann: I honestly don’t remember that night at The Villa, but if you say so! Haha.. But we started to play together during corona lockdown basically. Doing small sets/nights for friends and also some live streams. From there on we became great friends and now also partners in crime. 

In terms of music, where do your tastes converge?

Ole HK: Our taste is pretty similar of course, and we both like to mix in the same way. But I think the fact that we both love all kinds of music (not even just electronic music) makes our relationship very good and easy to work with. When we are together in the booth we can play, share and handle all types of electronic music, independent of genre and just enjoy each other. That’s so cool.

Normann: Our taste is similar, but also very different from time to time. Which is perhaps the main reason I think we go so well together. There is an individuality and personality there even though we play as one. 

How do you think it will be reflected in the guests you’ll be inviting to Helt Texas?

Ole HK: We want to have a mix of established and up and coming DJs. Like we have booked for the opening night of Helt Texas. Those two bookings are very representative of what we want and what we’re gonna book in the future.

Normann: Hopefully a lot of new and upcoming musicians with different styles, but also established and experienced people would be fun. There is so much talent in this city now, and especially women! Watch out – because they are reeeeally good!

Let’s talk about this first one. You’ve got Marcus Hitsøy and Henriku coming to inaugurate the night. What was the thought behind those guests and what do you hope to establish going forward?

Normann: They are great DJs and also pretty new to the scene. They really deserve to play in my opinion. I remember I first met Henriku when I moved to Berlin back in 2017. We immediately became friends because of our similar taste in music, and he continued to stay and evolve after I moved back home. Now also with his first release together with Alexander Skancke (which is dope). He is also a frequent DJ around in Berlin, so again a perfect fit for our opening night!

I think the opening night will be a good representation of what to expect in the future. It would be fun if these Thursdays turned into a hangout spot for people of any age with a passion for electronic music.    

Ole HK: Therefore Marcus Hitsøy and Henriku are the perfect booking for our opening party. Marcus is new to the scene and a really talented and passionate DJ. He is a part of the Sous-Vide label and have been playing groovy house and minimal a few times already in the backyard when they had their Sunday residency. Can’t wait to have him back. 

Yes Ole, I guess your relationship with Sous-Vide paved the way for this one too. 

Ole HK: Yes I really like the minimal groove and I was working and playing with Marcus in SVR. I saw how talented and passionate he is and Edvard knows Henrik, who also playa and produces the same style of electronic music – so then the line up of our opening party was complete! 

That’s all the questions I have for now. Anything you want to add?

Ole HK: Come to Jaeger 6th of October! It’s gonna be HELT TEXAS!!!!!!!!!!

A Ukrainian woman: Interview with Nastia

“What a way to end a set!” echoes through the crowd as the last remnants of an amen-breakbeat fade out. Nastia takes a reverent bow while the people in Jaeger’s basement press up against the booth, some of them still holding up phones, illuminated with the colours of the Ukrainian flag. Nothing she played alluded to any Ukrainian nationality, but there was an obvious and visible acknowledgement and you would have to have been living under a rock this past year, to avoid news of the ingoing war in Ukraine. I hear messages of support in English and what I assume is Nastia’s native-tongue, and while people file out of the basement as I’m reminded yet again of Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton’s iconic quote form Last Night a DJ saved my life; “Dancing is political, stupid!”

It’s a quote I was eager to bring up when I sat down with Nastia earlier that day in the hotel lobby. Did it resonate with the Ukrainian DJ under the circumstances? “To be honest I don’t have an answer to this question,” she considers for a moment, “because the opinion is so big and there are so many sides to it.“ Even so, she can’t seem to draw a definitive line in the sand for politics, because in her opinion “we’re all dependent on it!” It’s “pure ignorance,” she pressed to propagate a “message that music is out of politics.” 

Nastia’s fortitude and resilience in the face of the terrible atrocities facing her homeland has been an inspiration to witness. She has been a vocal critic since the war erupted with Russian troops invading Ukraine and continues to show a determined front under what I can only assume to be difficult personal circumstances. 

“It’s a hard situation for everybody,” she remarks ”not just for me and I still believe I’m one of the lucky ones.” Even though Nastia and her daughter are technically refugees, they’re not dependent on their refugee status and have declined the help of foreign governments. While other women in the same situation rely on international aid, Nastia and her daughter want for nothing. I’m super lucky to be an international artist,” she admits with her language skills and experiences as a well-travelled artist giving her an advantage over most. 

She currently resides in Amsterdam. The “cute and cosy” Dutch capital was the “only city” she considered when she had to relocate. Its accessibility to an international DJ circuit and its central location within Europe had a big influence on her decision, but I doubt it has given her any respite from being away from her home in Kyiv and the family and friends she left behind. 

At the time of writing her daughter will be enrolled in a boarding school in the UK, and with her daughter’s father returning to the front-line after recovering from injuries sustained on his last tour, Nastia’s family is currently spread across Europe while she continues to work, travelling around the globe. I can’t imagine this is easy for the DJ. “Why?” she replies. “I have to be an example,” she says flatly. “I truly believe I have a purpose. I have a responsibility.” It’s the nature of “being a Ukrainian woman; We don’t wait for help.“ 

It’s that very same resolution that propelled Nastia forward on the 24th of February 2022, when she woke up to the news of the Russian invasion. She packed her car with her daughter and drove to the Polish border. “We were supposed to fly to Turin,” she remembers, but  “the war arrived earlier” than expected, closing the airport on the day of their proposed flight. Nastia had two options; take the train or drive. She chose to drive, thinking it would be safer and  “more independent,” but having never driven across a border she admits she “was not prepared.” She “left, with a half empty bag, because I couldn’t understand what I needed at the moment,” and stressed continuously about whether she had the correct documents to get across. After twenty four hours of driving, most of which was stuck in long queues at the border and between borders, she and her daughter finally made it safely across the border. It was a harrowing ordeal even with the “incredible” job by the Polish border. 

Unlike the Polish border and much like Nastia, most of Ukraine was blindsided by the news of the Russian invasion. “Nobody knew,” the war was coming , because in Ukraine they had kept news of Russia’s advancing forces scant. “They were keeping it till the end, because they didn’t want people to panic,“ explains Nastia.  She and most of Kyiv were having “a normal day,” and “personally” she, like most of us watching events unfold remotely, “didn’t believe it” would ever happen. We were all, except perhaps for the American politicians, taken by surprise. 

We were all under the impression that a relative peace had reigned in the region after a tumultuous decade. We saw the uprising of the Maidan revolution as the start of a political revolution for the  country, one that would be sadly bookended by the eventual annexation of Crimea by Russian forces by 2014. It seemed a compromise was reached, but unbeknownst to most, tensions continued to simmer. 

From Russia’s point of view the situation was exasperated at the arrival of pro-European/pro-west leader, Volodymyr Zelenskiy. The ex-actor/comedian was elected in 2019, with huge public support rallying behind his efforts after the 2014 revolution. It seemed that the people finally had their man,  but with Russia’s Vladimir Putin proclaiming a “nazi” force was at work in the Ukrainian capital, it didn’t go down so well in the east of the region.

“Before the revolution in 2014,” explains Nastia, “he (Putin) was sure (Ukraine) was going to be a Russian country like Belarus,” kowtowing to Russian trade agreements and political demands. When Ukraine’s people lead by Zelenskiy, “took the direction towards a European union” and refused “to join Russia in a trade agreement” this was the straw the camel’s back for Putin, who insisted now that he wanted to “denazify” Ukraine in what he deemed a “special military operation.”

That, now familiar rhetoric, “is just one man and a toxic propaganda,” according to Nastia. It’s no secret she has been a staunch supporter of Zelenskiy and his efforts. She voted for Zelenskiy and is in favour of a European Union. She believes in a free Ukraine, not some soviet hinterland smothered in the tight grip of Putin’s fist. “If this had been Poroshenko,” Ukraine’s previous president, she continues, “he would’ve given away Ukraine.” Even while Poroshenko formed the first government after the 2014 revolution, Nastia is certain it took Zelenskiy’s resolution to free Ukraine from Russia’s nostalgic fever dream of a reunited USSR. “There is no other politician in Ukraine that would’ve defended Ukraine like Zelenskiy,” she insists.

Images of the resilient president, dressed in fatigues like a live-action G.I Joe, cut a determined image at the outbreak of the war and continues to do so in the media today. The young president refused to flee his country even at the insistence of his foreign counterparts, a stark contrast to Putin, hiding away in his “humble” abode. As fighting intensified, driving Russian troops eastward, his fortitude inspired a nation and a whole European continent for Nastia. “European leaders believed that Ukraine could win, and they started to help,” she believes. “Most of the people didn’t accept Zelenskiy as a serious president and it was only when the war started,” that the public opinion shifted.

Unfortunately, this public opinion didn’t seem to reach the Russian people. In what she believes is one the “most shocking” developments in this war, Nastia says it has “completely” broken down the relationship between Ukrainian- and the Russian citizens. “We felt that we were on the same page,“ but after the war broke out “we clearly saw it was not like that.” Part propaganda, part ignorance and part misremembered history, have skewed the Russian narrative on the situation. Nastia thinks there’s “no way back” in mending these broken fences with her neighbours and in some sense her fellow countrymen.

Born in Fabrychne, a small village rubbing shoulders with the Russian border in the Luhansk region, Nastia was born into a Russian speaking family. For all intents and purposes she might have been Russian, depending on your perspective at that time. Nastia spent her formative years in this “poor” village, making regular trips to the closest big city, Donetsk. Her sisters had established residence there and when Nastia finished her schooling, she moved to the city to pursue a tertiary education at the University of Donetsk’s Marketing faculty. It’s then she starts dancing “in the best club” in the city, setting off on a path toward her eventual career as an internationally acclaimed DJ.

Today, her father remains in Luhansk, and her sisters have been living in Donetsk and Crimea respectively, all places currently under Russian control. I’m curious what people like her father and her sisters make of the situation. “My father is absolutely out of the whole thing,” she answers. “He’s an ignorant pacifist.” Nastia understands, but doesn’t defend, the 65-year-old’s position, refraining from dragging up politics when they talk, but I sense there’s frustration there that we’re all currently feeling with that generation. It’s different with her sisters though. “My older sister, of course she sees things, but she can’t do anything, and she’s accepted the conditions she has to live in. She doesn’t think it’s black and white, she believes there’s fault on both sides.” And what of the middle sister that has been in Crimea since before the 2014 revolution? While Nastia believes, “Crimea became a better place,” in terms of infrastructure, she concurrently believes it has robbed the region of an independent will. 

A holiday destination to Russians and Ukrainians alike, Crimea has always relied on the enterprise of its citizens to take advantage of seasonal business. With the arrival of the Russians, this has taken the agency away from the Crimeans, and has dwindled the opportunity for new businesses to thrive. “The roads, the kindergartens and the renovations, don’t compensate for the quality of life of the people,” insists Nastia. “You have to live your life independently,” and since the Russian occupation, independence has been a distant reality in the scope of the faux-socialist dogma of the oligarchs. 

This is perhaps why there has been a lot more resistance coming from Kyiv than these regions according to Nastia. “I think it’s all about education.” Growing up in the Luhansk region, she’s witnessed many who have fallen victim to the “poor” mentality that these rural regions encourage. “If you were able, like me, to move away from the small village to the capital,” clarifies Nastia, “then you have something in your mind; you have ideas, knowledge and skills, it makes you stronger.” Other “people that were born and going to die in the same village” don’t have that perspective and Nastia suggests that they have become “slaves” to their own limitations, and thus Russian demands.

It will take more people like Nastia, who although born in a Russian-speaking family,  “identifies as Ukrainian.” It might just be a “state of mind” for most, but in Nastia’s case, that state of mind has given her purpose in what she does as a DJ, a label owner, and event organiser today. It extends from her work in the booth to her own charitable foundation, which raises money for children’s hospitals and animal shelters in Ukraine. Her Nechto nights and record label have become something of a platform for these fundraising efforts and from every set she plays, she has been able to direct some of her personal earnings to the cause, significantly funnelled into the military effort of her homeland.

“Every gig is a challenge” however. The “hardest thing” has been “to focus on the music” while the war rages on, she understandably admits.  She”checks the music news much less” while  her inbox continues to fill with unopened demos. “I’m not ready for that. It invests so much effort.” She still experiences “heart-attacks” before taking to the booth, and was taking prescribed anxiety medication from the onset of the war up until August. Yet she perseveres calling it her “purpose” at the moment. Besides the label Nechto, releasing records from Ukrainian artists, she is also aiding Ukrainian DJs and artists in their quest for visas and temporary discharges from the Ukrainian military (“most of them are men”) to play in Europe. 

She goes back to Kiyv at least once a month for the moment, and notices while there’s still a tension in the air, there’s also been “a lot of discussion about how to live: “Shall I feel guilty that I’m trying to live the life I’ve had before the war, while other people are dying on the frontline. Some people figure that we can not go out, go to the party, or go to the restaurant because people are dying in the front. But other people are saying that yes but they are dying for us. We need to live so that their efforts are not (in vain).

Either way, there haven’t been that many electronic music events cropping up in the city “because of the curfew,” but there have been some cultural events, keeping up the spirits of the population. Nastia has feigned to create any events in the city herself, believing that “you have to be part of the scene” to do anything there. She hopes to eventually see an echo of what happened after the 2014 revolution when “we came back to parties in the summer and the scene went to another level,” but is reluctant to get her hopes up just yet. “I don’t see an end,” she says in a discouraging tone. “I don’t think anybody else has an idea of how or when it’s going to finish, even Putin.”

If it were up to the people on the dance floor in Jaeger’s basement on that evening, this war would already be over. Nobody else seems to want it either, except one man and the sycophantic yes-men that surround him. The only hope we have is that something befalls the Russian leader, but as Nastia so eloquently put it; “the war doesn’t only depend on him.” 

As Nastia’s set came to an end, she was smiling in response to the audience. Eeking across 140BPM, her set was built on a sense of groove that often belies those tempos. The people on the night responded in kind, whooping at quieter intermissions, and always ready with a cheer when she transitions into something familiar. There’s respect and familiarity involved in the turnout and their appreciation, but one can’t simply dismiss the extenuating factors of a war in Ukraine in this situation, especially when people are visibly waving Ukrainian flags. Even as the media’s coverage wanes and a world view turns more apathetic, it seems that people are still here and still willing to make a stand; even if it’s just for a few hours on the dance floor. 

Words: Mischa Mathys

Photos: Johannes Krogh

In safe hands – Profile on Mano Le Tough

“Thanks to Mano Le Tough I’m not afraid (for) the future of house music.” That’s what Âme and Innervisions’ Kristian Beyer reckoned back in 2012 when the Guardian asked him to peer into his musical crystal ball. Beyer and Innervisions cohort, Dixon had been staunch supporters of Mano Le Tough’s (Niall Mannion) music, his tracks regularly making an appearance in their DJ sets. The Irish producer and DJ had become a sought-after presence in some of Europe’s most lauded DJ booths, and while the Innervisions confirmation was welcomed, Mano Le Tough’s career hardly needed the reinforcement, even then. ou don’t become a meme without having some clout on the scene, after all.

By the time Beyer’s quote surfaced, it’s fair to say Mano Le Tough had already established himself, forging a distinctive path as a DJ and artist, putting him in that upper echelon where the kind of people cheering him on resided. “2012 is when things really started to speed up, when I started doing over 100 gigs a year, and released my first album,” he confirmed in The Irish Times. It was year zero in becoming a household name, but he wasn’t exactly an overnight success either. 

Growing up in Ireland, we don’t know much about Niall Mannion’s life before Mano Le Tough. Bits from interviews suggested he was a quizzical music fan, but with early influences like Radiohead being referenced and the fact that he had “been in bands” when he was younger, it seems Mannion was more at ease with a guitar than a synthesiser during his formative years. At some point the switch to electronic music must have happened because by 2007, he had garnered a following on Myspace and made the move to the electronic music capital, Berlin. 

Mano Le Tough in the studio

“It was fairly meagre when I first got to Berlin,” Mannion told The Irish Times, reflecting on that time. “I was working in an Irish pub, actually a couple of different pubs, and running small parties with friends.” Earning his chops in what would have been a very busy and competitive Berlin scene at the time, he put in his time as Mano Le Tough and  his efforts were soon rewarded. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if I wasn’t determined,” he told XLR8R during an interview a while back. “Chasing the dream” during this period, there were a couple of key events that set him on the trajectory. 

Going to Red Bull Music Academy in 2010 was “one of the most important developments” and then when everyone started playing his track Primitive People, it too became a “cornerstone” of his career. It was the first release from his debut LP and with people like Tale of Us and Dixon jumping on the remixes, it played a seminal role in propelling Mano Le Tough to the  forefront of the world stage as a DJ. And where most would shrink in the shadow of some of the world’s most renowned DJ booths, Mano Le Tough, dominated it. Abated by his experiences when he was still a burgeoning DJ, he became a familiar headliner all across Europe, with the prowess to back up his rising reputation.

He can easily go 10 hours behind the decks, and still “routinely” does without breaking a sweat, and it’s that skill that installed the name Mano Le Tough beyond Primitive People, and continues to be a drawcard for old and new audiences alike. 

“You really have to look after your relationship with DJing,” Mannion explained in XLR8R. “If you do it too much, or you play in the wrong places, the love for it can fade, and you can’t really come back from that place—unless you have a break from it.”  The tight-rope act he walks has secured his precarious position between the underground electronic music scene and the big rooms he plays week in and week out. 

Known for his immersive journeys, Mano Le Tough’s sets are fluid expressions through his unique vision of House music which concurrently had a broad appeal on the dance floor. When the likes of Resident Advisor were still doing DJ rankings, he would often be in the top tier of these lists, and when Boiler Room came along he would be one of the first guests to break a million views on the platform.

Such was and is his popularity as a DJ that it often overshadows his work as a producer, but it’s exactly for his records that the Innervisions guys first singled him out (and for records not even on their label) and why he remains in the purview of our scene. 

In his work in the studio we have the same kind of ethos that drives his experiences as a DJ. “If you try to produce records to fit in with trends then you’re already two steps behind,” Mannion told XLR8R around the time his second LP Trails was released. A lot had changed since his debut LP Changing Days by the time of Trails. “I’ve developed a lot in terms of production technique, and I trust myself a lot more in terms of taking chances. I was much more open with the process, and I had a lot more confidence.” 

The LP coincided with a move to Switzerland where it was quite a different experience than his time in Berlin, where “the line [between home and work] was far more blurred.”  Moving to Switzerland was “a really positive thing for everything, music included,” he explained in XLR8R. “It’s given me so much energy and that has given me clarity of thought,” he continues. “It’s offered me the opportunity to really develop as an artist.” The result was the “deepest, most personal” work to that date. It came during a time of manic creativity, but  reflecting on the LP much later he would also say:  “In fact, after Trails, I said I’d never do another one because it didn’t go as well as I wanted it. I rushed the whole thing. I should have just stepped back and given it more time.”

This is something he felt that he could correct by the time he reached his third and latest offering in the long format, facilitated in part by the first wave of the pandemic. “I’d wanted to make a new album but that process was getting interrupted every year by being on the road too much,” he told Musicradar at the time.” This time, although it was extremely difficult for many reasons, being at home gave me the chance to work properly on the record and finish it.” The result was At the Moment, an album that’s a departure from anything else he’s done in the past, moving the furthest from those House-music inclinations into a more organic realm. 

Mano Le Tough at the keys

Time seems to slow during the record as inert guitar licks and slothful dubbed-out rhythms collide in miasmic atmospheres. Mano Le Tough’s sterile touch prevails in a glossy exterior that hides tumultuous layers. His voice dominates on this record more than ever and there is something in those youthful influences like Radiohead and some new ones like Steve Reich that certainly come to the fore here. “I felt that I was going full circle back to the music I grew up with,” he confirms in Musicradar, “but filtering it through the lens of my electronic music or DJ career.”

He stopped short of calling it a complete evolution in his work. “I wouldn’t say it’s a change in direction, just the logical next step.” It’s a dramatic step nonetheless, more like a leap, and it certainly changes the perspective of his music. Is it still House music at this point? It’s up to the listener, but it certainly channels some obvious references from House music, enough for  people from Resident Advisor to be able to still associate. In Henry Ivry ‘s review of the record, he called it “a surprising and refreshing record” marking specifically the “swaggering guitar hero” tone that it sets throughout.

I’m curious what Âme’s Kristian Beyer would think of it and if he’d still stand by his 2012 quote. My guess is yes, because if you hear what the likes of Bonobo, George FitzGerald and Ross from Friends are doing in House music echelons, we’re certainly moving towards the very same sound Mano Le Tough is perpetuating through his last record.

How does this influence what he does in the booth today? Probably little. While the nature of the recorded format has changed, especially in the realm of albums, the DJ is still a facilitator for a dance floor, and in that respect Mano Le Tough is a master at work. We’d expect nothing less than the cumulative experiences of a DJ that has made an indelible mark on the scene. 

Watch Center on the universe perform live for Jaeger Mix

In a first for the Jaeger mix, we present a video recording of Center of the Universe’s contribution to the Jaeger Mix series.

At the Center of the universe is man. He is a curious man. He plays a clarinet, and conjures obscure alien sonic aesthetics from noisy machines. He channels a diverse collage of musical languages through his work, always underpinned by a catchy beat. When he is not making beats he is proliferating others’ music with artists that orbit him and his label, Metronomicon. He is a musical maelstrøm at the Center of the universe, and he is our first guest back for the Jaeger mix after a long hiatus for the series.

Jørgen Sissyfus Skjulstad is the man at the Center of the Universe. The musical project has been a fixture in Oslo and Norway with records and live performances transmitting the artist’s singular voice across formats and contexts. Perfectly at home in a DJ booth, as well as a stage, Center of the Universe’s music moves effortlessly between worlds, often bringing disparate musical planets together in the process. 

Between non-western scales and pop-culture musical references, a post-modern spirit moves through his records, his videos and his live show. It was indeed a live-show he insisted upon when he asked him to revive the Jaeger mix series, encouraging the series to capture everything on camera and in audio for this occasion. Carting some synthesisers, drum machines, light-bulbs and a traffic sign into the sauna, Center of the Universe captivated with an esoteric live show, one which we’re happy to have captured in the visual format for the first time. 

In an unprecedented event of the Jaeger mix series, we have a video of the performance. Re-live the moments from our sauna, where Center of the Universe performs some of his latest hits like  Track ID, MP3 and NFT.  You can read the full interview with Jørgen and the audio recording here.

Keep the party going at the end of the world with Ost & Kjex

In today’s content-driven society, it’s so easy to drown in new records. Demanding release schedules leave us weary with even some of our favourite artists saturating streaming platforms and record shelves with their work. It has reached a point where five years between releases seem an absolute age and any longer interval between records is presumed a comeback by media outlets.

That’s why when Ost & Kjex announced their latest LP, “Songs from the end of the world”, with a seven-year gap between their last, “Freedom Wig,” people started calling it a comeback album. It simply wasn’t the case. They’ve continued to release records, like the mesmerising Private Dancer; set up their own label; and remained a presence on Oslo’s and Norway’s live stages. And that’s not including the Tore “Ost” Gjedrem’s side project Sex Judas

They’ve been busy, and in Oslo they’ve been a constant presence, noted for their jovial and ebullient dance floor creations and engaging live shows. Their latest album is very much a “continuation” of the Ost & Kjex sound and Dadaist approach to the dance floor,  as they traverse through sequenced rhythms and enigmatic melodies. Return guest WhaleSharkAttacks feature alongside other collaborators, as “Songs from the end of the world” makes a stand at the centre of the dance floor.

Between enchanting vocals and grooves, there’s the spectre of a soul that permeates through the record counterpointing the glossy sheen of its electronic counterparts. There’s an element of Ost & Kjex’s live performances at work, which infer that human touch, and lets the caricatures that they’ve created around this project run rampant across the record. Like a couple of comic strip characters brought to life, there’s a sense of playfulness that provokes at a visceral level, even though the subject matter of this record might appear bleak on its cover. 

We were eager to find out more about what exactly influenced the record and what planted the seed, as well as what this record actually means in the story of Ost & Kjex. We reached out and Ost obliged with some answers to our questions ahead of their next appearance at Jaeger.

This will be your first LP away from the Diynamic; the first Ost & Kjex LP on your own label Snick Snack Music; and the first LP in 7 years (wow, feels like Freedom Wig came out yesterday). Would it be safe to assume that this is a new chapter in the Ost & Kjex annals?

I must say we are as shocked as you by how fast time flies, and in relation to this the new album feels more like a steady continuation than a new chapter. To some listeners it might seem like a new start, but we live, think and dream about this project every day, even though our output is quite slow.

Can we ask what inspired the decision to set off on your own towards a distinct path with Snick Snack?

After we parted ways with Diynamic we felt the need to control every aspect of the creative process. One thing is the music itself, another is the release schedule. It’s hard for an artist to wait months, sometimes a year before the actual product comes out. We move on so quickly to the next thing and the music easily seems dated. 

Another major inspiration is the current state of affairs in the Norwegian electronic underground. The quality and amount of music coming out locally was just too good to ignore. We also wanted to see if we could use some of our experience from the business to help the local scene. 

What does “Songs from the end of the world” signify for you and your career?

Not too much, even though it felt nice to get a new album out. For attention in some parts of the press like the dailies, you have to release albums. Some journalists even called it a comeback album, even though we have released quite a few ep’s since “Freedom Wig”. I think our release rate is the worst possible when it comes to keeping the attention of the listeners and media in today’s over heated SoMe driven society. On the other side, I can’t keep up with the release schedule of even some of my favourite artists, as they are flooding the market to keep the attention up.  

It’s quite an apt title for an album in these trying times, but most of the music subverts the theme as ebullient constructions that are very familiar as your sound. Is there a thematic significance to the title and how does it tie in with the music?

The title is definitely a comment on the times we are living in, with the Pandemic, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, climate change and the rise of the new Right with its Neo Fascist ideals. It is also a comment on Norway’s position on the outskirts of Europe and the music world.

It’s not a gloomy album, even though it has some dark parts. The idea is to keep the party going, even though we are going down first class. 

Have you guys changed or adapted to anything in the environment beyond music that is specifically significant for this LP?

The pandemic affected this album big time. We originally planned a totally different approach with lots of musical collaborations, field recordings etc. The virus forced us to make this one by ourselves, bouncing ideas back and forth between our studios. Artistically I’m quite happy it turned out this way as it forced us to pay closer attention to our own productions and not rely on the magic of others. 

As always, your music skirts that border between the dance floor and a set of headphones. What context were you particularly leaning toward on this record?

We specifically wanted to make a club album, something people could dance to when society opens up after Covid. That being said, there will always be an introspective, sound geek aspect to our music. We are deeply in love with that side of electronic music. 

How much is it informed with what you’ve been hearing on the dance floor lately?

Not much.

We’re all getting a bit older, and Saturday nights are spent with a good bottle of wine at home rather than at a nightclub these days. So how do you satisfy those dance impulses that used to come from going out every weekend to a club on an LP like this? 

The club experience is our ideal. Even though we are getting quite old, we still think we are the energetic ravers we once were. Even an honest look in the mirror doesn’t seem to cure this disillusion. 

One element that stands out on  “Songs from the end of the world” is the collaborations. There’s more here than before, I believe. Why have you started working more with other people, and what does it bring out in your own work?

Actually there are a lot less collaborations on this album than on any of our previous ones. 

That being said, we always loved to work with other people as they bring in a different approach and energy to our work. I believe all my best creative work has been made in collaboration with others. 

WhaleSharkAttacks is on a couple of tracks, and you’ve worked with her before on the unforgettable Private Dancer. What is it about this enigmatic artist that first encouraged you to collaborate with her in the first place, and what makes you guys click so effortlessly? 

It’s her self-assured style and effortlessly cool vocals that drew us in. Also we are very impressed by her productions and ability to mix genres into something entirely her own. Viviana is also a very intelligent person with strong and interesting perspectives on the world.

So the social aspect is also important, we love to hang out with her.  

With like-minded artists like WhaleSharkAttacks and Wildflowers (Øyvind Morken & Kaman Leung) joining you guys and Trulz & Robin, there’s a small family that’s come into existence around Snick Snack. Who and what do you look for in the label to join the catalogue?

We look for artists with an original sound that seem to exist in a world of their own, even though they are part of a bigger scene. Artists that can make interesting albums as well as a few dance floor bombs. We look for Norwegian artists or people living permanently in Norway, as we see Snick Snack as a vehicle to help develop the local scene. 

Are there any exciting new artists joining the lineup in the near future?

Plenty! We are really excited to release an EP by the duo Synk this autumn / winter. Helene Rickhard is currently working on an album for Snick Snack that I think is gonna be something really special. First thing to come out this autumn is a fab. solo EP by Øyvind Morken with some post Italo bangers. And there is more to come. 

What were some of the positive experiences about releasing the LP on your own label?

Above all, full artistic freedom. Even though this freedom also comes with a lot of responsibility. If something goes wrong you can blame only yourself. And also you don’t have the promotional help of a big team that often comes with a larger label. Another major plus is that you gain so much knowledge on how the whole music business works. You are no longer a passive bystander the second after you deliver the music to the label. We can now influence the whole process from start to finish.

Ost, you’re also doing a lot with your other project Sex Judas at the same time. What takes precedent when you’re working on music these days and how do you compartmentalise those two projects individually?

It’s quite easy actually as Ost & Kjex is something Petter and I do together. So anything happening with that project is something we do in tandem. Stuff happens when we stick our heads together. As for Sex Judas, I started the project as an outlet where I could experiment and draw inspiration from a lot of the music I love, that don’t fit in with the Ost & Kjex sound. I felt a need to start with clean sheets. Tabula Rasa as they say. 

At the same time, as releasing the LP for Ost & Kjex, there’s also a remix Sex Judas EP. Tell us a bit more about how that came together and how Cosmic pioneer Daniele Baldelli alongside his long-time production partner, Rocca ended up there.

Nothing more fancy than I wanted some “club” remixes from the “Night Songs” album. I always had a big appetite for electronic music and club / dance music. From jazz, funk, disco, boogie to braindance, idm, house, breaks etc. Danielle Baldelli is a major cat in the dance floor continuum and most importantly a cosmic messenger. It is a great honour to have such a foreseeing artist remix our music. 

It’s an incredibly eclectic mix of artists and sounds coming together on that remix collection, with a very eccentric delivery. Was that always the intention or was it a happy coincidence due the artists you picked out for the assignment?

It was intentional and hopefully in tune with the aspirations I have for this project.

Why these songs and will there be a second volume with some more from the LP?

I picked out Slow Down for Danielle Baldelli as I thought it would be a good match. The original is quite long and cosmic, although in another way than disco. As Roe Deers and Utheo Choerer they picked their own favourites from the album. I don’t think there will be a second volume of remixes. 

But I digress. We’re here to talk about Ost & Kjex. In terms of presenting your music, you prefer the live format. Why do you feel most comfortable in that context?

We come from a band setting, so we brought this element with us when we started making electronic music. There were so many, I wouldn’t say boring, but introspective live acts around when we first hit the scene. People staring into their laptops and little boxes. 

This perspective changed dramatically when we first experienced Jamie Lidell, Herbert and above all Nozé perform live for the first time. It blew our minds and opened up new possibilities for energetic live performances. Also there is the simple fact that we love to perform and entertain. It’s a very rewarding way to play music where one interacts directly with the audience and feeds off each other’s energies. 

You mentioned in your last email, it’s going to be a collection of mostly new music, and some “Golden Oldies.” How have you adapted the “oldies” to fit into the set, and does the fact that it’s in a club setting change the nature of these familiar songs at all?

Indeed we have. We updated quite a few of the oldies to fit better with our current sound, which is currently a bit harder. Also we mix elements from the songs like dj’s do in their sets. This brings out some magic from time to time. I suggest people get their sexy arses down to Jaeger this Friday to hear for themselves. 

 

 

A very British institution with Alexander Nut

Alexander Nut beams with delight, holding a small bag of records at Råkk & Rålls in Oslo. He  insists there’s probably much more to dig through in the vast catacombs of music that constitutes the record store’s cellar, but luggage space is limited. Next time he considers, he might bring a bigger bag. 

Half an hour earlier, we’re sitting down in a shady spot in Oslo’s Spikersuppa. A brass band is marching their way down Karl Johan Gate with a honking brass noise drifting over the whole park. I have to repeat the question: “Will there ever come a time when you stop buying records?” “Probably not, ” he says confidently. “It’s a habit and that’s the way I grew up, interacting with music. I still love it.” 

He still travels with around 50 records (not leaving much space for new finds)  and when he’s not playing records, he’s “manufacturing” them through his record label Eglo; a label that has been championing the call for new UK left field club music since 2009 through artists like Floating Points, Funkineven, Fatima and most recently Shy One. 

Cutting his teeth on pirate radio, Alexander Nut became something of a tastemaker for a new sound of electronic music coming to the fore in a post-dubstep landscape in the UK. Through his early work at Rinse FM, back in the mid-2000’s, he turned a whole generation of music fans onto the emerging sounds of London’s post-dubstep set, providing a springboard for record labels and artists alike, some of who have gone on to become household names today. 

Guided by his own eclectic tastes, which include “anything and everything,” it continues to inform the sound and attitude of Eglo. He left an indelible mark on Rinse, before moving on to NTS, where today he feels that he can “do whatever I want” and there’s an audience out there that will listen to it. It’s given him the opportunity to play the music he didn’t get a chance to play at Rinse, with shows folding in everything from Roisin Murphy to Shy One, tracing a dotted-line through Alex’s own experience in music and his record collection, rather than an obligation to a scene.

That scene has largely dissolved today, diversifying into branches of Techno, House, Grime and UKG, but when it started it was a hive of activity with a “nice mix of east London ghetto kids, mixed with all these nerdy producer guys” interpreting the dance floor in new and original styles of music, predisposed by the same thing that informed Alexander’s eclectic nature.

“The UK music scene was quite tribal” back then according to Alexander when we start reflecting on this time in London. At the time, even at the no-holds-barred Rinse FM, he was “the odd one out.” When he started at the radio station, “there weren’t any platforms really,” and besides perhaps Giles Petterson and Benji B on BBC, there “wasn’t any leftfield, mixed-up shows.” With an objective of “filling a void,” he played only “new underground music,”  influenced largely by the “mutation of Dubstep, Garage and Jungle happening” at that time.

Permeating through the nocturnal habits of the UK metropolis at the time, it was music that gestated in the melting pot that is the UK’s diverse cultural backgrounds alongside a youthful inquisitiveness satisfied by the advent of an accessible internet – “Myspace was a hotbed for all kinds of people sharing music” – and a “record scene” that “was still strong” according to Alexander.  

Legendary clubbing institutions like Plastic People and FWD played a seminal part in this new underground with Alexander right there at the epicentre “aggregating all this new shit,” for Rinse  FM and his growing audience. He stops short of calling it “an obligation,” but feels that he had “a slight responsibility” if only for the people tuning every week. It’s always hard to relay the significance of this time and this scene in the UK for people with no reference point,  but as a writer I’ve always believed it should be appreciated in the same respect as what Acid House became through the Hacienda. It wasn’t a specific sound –  in fact it was exactly the absence of some musical consolidation –  but rather a spirit or an attitude. 

“You got to say,” explains Alexander  “it comes from  black culture, it comes from black music.”  By the time Rinse FM and FWD came to the fore however, and on the back of the Internet, it had taken on a  whole new significance. “It came to a point when I was a teenager,” he remembers, “and we were listening to that whole time-line; Reggae, Hip Hop, House, Drum n Bass and Garage.”  It was, in part, reflected in all “the different communities all living on top of each other,” who “all had these scenes” that were now influencing this next generation’s augury view of future sounds. 

The importance of Rinse FM and Alexander Nut could not be downplayed in this legacy. There are still people who come up to him, reflecting on the influence of his show on their formative years as teenagers listening to his broadcasts from their bedroom. It might make him feel “old as fuck” but he conceeds it “planted a seed.” After 8 years at Rinse FM however, he felt ”it was other people’s turn” and he could pass “on the batton” allowing him to move on to NTS where he could change the format to what we hear today. 

There’s no need to play the latest, groundbreaking work, giving him the opportunity to delve a little deeper into his own collection. Now it’s more about the  “past present and future,” on NTS whereas before “it was all about the future” on Rinse FM. 

Reflecting on his own past, Alexander is humble and respectful of the scene he grew up in, emphasising those formidable experiences growing up in Wolverhampton, in the UK’s west-Midlands. The town, located in the UK’s steel belt, is a town lost to an industrial age today, but curiously holds some key moments in the UKs music history, most significantly as the origin story for Goldie, the UK Drum n Bass pioneer, actor and yoga enthusiast. It is there in the same estate where Goldie grew up and tagged buildings, that Alexander Nut’s family has its roots. 

Raised in the council estates where you have all “the different communities, all living on top of each other,” the culture, funnelled down to Alexander, found outlets like skateboarding and graffiti before it solidified around DJing. “Seeing Goldie tags” around his neighbourhood,  “blew” Alexander’s mind as a youth and he soon realised he “wanted a piece of that.” In what is a familiar trope in DJ stories, graffiti and skateboarding went hand in hand with music and on the back of his older brother’s record collections which went from Hip Hop (“Wu Tang was huge to me”)  to Iron Maiden (“I still love Iron Maiden”) Alexander found a real appreciation for the pirate radio stations in his area. “There’s a really strong pirate radio scene in Wolverhampton” and “Skyline FM” run by Dread Lester (“Rest in Peace”) was a particularly strong draw for Alexander. As he was getting into DJing, largely playing Hip Hop, the objective had always been to have his own show on Skyline, and he would eventually realise his dream before moving to London.

Everything from “Jazz, Hip Hop, soul to funk” would inform his listening habits at the time. Fold all of that into the cauldron of London’s effervescent music scene where Grime, Garage, Drum n Bass and Dubstep were being co-opted into House, Techno and Electro, and we have that vibrant “cultural melting pot” that would lay the foundation for Alexander Nut’s career on Rinse FM and eventually Eglo. 

Yet again the Internet, Myspace’s and Plastic People’s importance cannot be overstated in Eglo’s existence. It was through Myspace that Alexander Nut first found Floating Points (Sam Sheppard). He had been playing a track called “For You” on his radio show at Rinse FM, when during a CDR night at Plastic People he heard the track being played through the club’s legendary bass-heavy sound system. CDR, like Alexander’s radio show, was a night that championed new producers, allowing unknown artists to bring in their music to hear it through a proper club sound system. The Floating Points track was announced, and Alexander asked the MC, “ where is he, point him out”; his only previous contact with the producer being through Sheppard’s Myspace page. 

It turned out Sheppard had been listening to Alexander’s radio show too, and when the two started talking it lead to the creation of Eglo with Floating Points establishing the label through the labels first 7”; the very same track that had been playing on Rinse FM and CDR on that significant night. 

“It  sold well” remembers Alexander who says  it “ignited the flame” and he proffered “I guess we’re a record label now.” Records like Funkineven’s Rolands Jam and Fatima’s Circle followed, with that very same eclectic approach, ebbing through Alexander’s own personal tastes. R&B, Garage, Chicago, Jazz and everything happening around the label in that time, were channelled through Eglo. It’s a “very British institution on these strange overlapping things”, considers Alexander when I ask about the ideologies behind the label. 

Eglo “is the sum of its parts.” It’s about “Funkineven, Fatima, Floating Points, Rinse FM and NTS. All these things play a part and it has its own identity. ”Even though Alexander might “listen to everything,” he feels Eglo is not necessarily a representation of his own listening habits, but rather a  “a true representation of all these connected things.” It all “started in the basement of plastic people”, and today it represents a network spreading across the world from “Australia to LA” as he continues making new friends and making connections.” It’s an honest, unique pure creation” he feels, based on those interactions in his musical world. It extends from that first Floating Points record to the latest Shy One 7″ today with every record offering a new node in this expanding musical universe.

Unfortunately, it’s probably also one of the last bastion’s for this kind of label in our hyper-commercialised landscape, which according to Alexander had become “a bit elitist and discriminatory” as more people cottoned on to the music. “As things became more accessible it killed some of the grassroots origins;” possibly represented in time by the change in sound system at Plastic People, right before it closed down. “It went from this monstrous bass-heavy system to an audiophile thing” remembers Alexander and he noticed the “crowd and promoters changed.” 

It probably came to its ultimate  conclusion by the time Boiler Room came on the scene with Alexander laying blame directly at their feet for this change in musical pursuits. “I’ll say this on record – Boiler Room ruined everything!  I‘m not trying to shit on the people that work there now,” he says but at a time when he was still promoting events in London they would often poach artists from his lineup and let Alexander foot the bill.

Putting up “A grand of my own money,” these artists would also play for Boiler Room for free on the promise of promotion, and it left Alexander dumbfounded; “‘You’re doing a free gig for these guys, when they all sponsored up’”. It was “killing grassroots promoters” like Alexander.

Even though he concedes that the platform’s impact in proliferating music is significant, he’s surethose same people” that found music through Boiler Room ”would’ve been introduced to the same music in a more illegitimate way” regardless. “All these platforms present themselves as these authentic grassroots organisations, but they are just auction sites. It’s all about numbers, what they can sell to their sponsors.” 

It’s certainly a world away from anything our generation experienced growing up and anything that Eglo continues to present to the world. I revel in Alexander’s honesty in his objections in a landscape that’s become somewhat careful of these criticisms, for fear of reprisal. Criticisms like these are very rarely brought to light and only spoken in hushed tones and off the record. It takes some real courage to come out and say these things we’re all thinking. It’s probably the reason why Alexander is one of the most respected DJs out there and Eglo records remain a formidable touchstone for us. 

Alexander admits, “I’m no longer the bastion of what’s the hottest, what’s the latest thing you know,” but that has only seemed to spur on a drive to contribute only what’s significant, whether it’s the music he plays or the music he puts out there in the world through Eglo.

It might be a cliche to label Alexander a melting pot of these diverse influences, but no other description would suffice on this occasion. From his early Hip Hop and graffiti roots in Wolverhampton; the influence of pirate radio; his own work on the radio; his influence on and from the likes of Plastic People and FWD; and the fact that on a sunny day in Oslo, he’d rather spend his time in a musty cellar looking for records, he’s a uniquely British institution and one of the few positive things that statement infers today. 

The Cut with Filter Musikk

As you try to wedge in another record into a collection that has outgrown its presumptuous and downright foolish dimensions, something seems to give. The DiY flatpack ikea record shelf/DJ-platform/speaker-balancer shows its true integrity and buckles like a politician caught in a lie. You consider your fate, being crushed under the weight of a record collection, you’ve barely had a chance to play once and see the headlines flash: “obscure knob-twiddler dies under the weight of archaic hobby.” Be honest… would you have it play out any other way? Didn’t think so…

For while there it seemed pointless to maintain this little feature. It seemed after the pandemic even more people shifted away from the format. Labels that had staunchly dedicated to vinyl were now cropping up in different guises on Bandcamp. The people that bought the records concealed themselves in darkened rooms, illuminated by the sickly glow of computer screens.  Suddenly vinyl-DJs were showing up to sets with fanny packs rather than record bags; their previously carved right biceps, flapping in the wind with barely any resistance.

Resistance to the 21st century’s technology finally seemed futile, but as we started opening up again the truly determined emerged, unfazed and stronger in their stubborn pursuit of their love for vinyl. 

In a small city like Oslo, they’ve only consolidated into what can be described as a tribal cult. There’s nothing really social or network-like about it, and except perhaps for the acknowledging nod or brief greeting, the introverted nature of the people and this pastime is very much a solitary affair for most. The dedication however is unparalleled and as the majority turn further away, the vinyl collectors and enthusiasts have only become more entrenched.

We’re on a precipice of the unknown as factors like the environmental impact and the rising costs of production take precedent, but that has only fortified their efforts with more selective tastes and selective outlets informing these tastes. There are few selective outlets that can be trusted to share the enthusiasm, and fewer still that will truly alleviate at least some of that burden of potential unwanted additions to overgrown record collections. Luckily, in Oslo we have Filter Musikk

Filter Musikk continues to be the holy grail for record enthusiasts in the city and a bastion of good tastes regardless of style or genre. In recent times its tastes have expanded from proprietor Roland Lifjell to the next generation of tastemakers, Sverre Brand and Erik Fra Bergen (Sagittarii Acid) who’ve started to become regular fixtures behind the counter.  They are carrying the baton for vinyl to its next phase and when I send an email to ask Roland where his particular tastes might lie in this week’s selection, I’m pleased to receive a reply from his younger counterparts. It’s the cut with Filter Musikk

Catch Roland Lifjell and Filter Musikk next week in the Sauna 

 

Indio – Phoenix (Detroit Dancer) 12”

It’s John Beltram in a feisty mood. Adorning his Indio alias, the legendary US producer, steps out of the ambient realm into a Techno prototype. The melody remains central with a bubbling loop that refuses to resign. Machines stutter along involuntarily, building through to the inevitable tension supplied by ecstatic strings that evaporate into the ether towards the end. 

It’s Detroit at its best, taking a page out the original pioneers, bolstered in the clarity of modern technology. ERP sends it to the future, on an electro-beat in his rework of the track, while Stryke brings that humid Miami vibe to the fore. Both remixers retain that melodic appeal of the original, but while E.R.P puts his mark on there with a skipping 808 kick, Stryke subdues it in the presence of a bouncing booty bass. 

 

Acid Synthesis – Acidwerk (Planet 303) 12”

Aceed! What else would you expect from an Acid Synthesis record called Acidwerk on a label called planet 303? I’ve hardly heard a 303 sing so sonorously. It takes a certain dedication to maintain this level of discipline for a sub-genre in the way that Keith Farrugia does it here for this project and this record. 

There’s no sample-pack-pick-mix at work here as the producer manipulates the 303 around grooves that truly show the vast expanse that the Acid genre can cover. From the practically-coined, dance-floor focussed Acid to the melodically-rich craftsmanship of the Acidwerk there’s a little bit of everything for a variety of music heads to dip their toe into. Even though titles like these leave little to the imagination, the songs – and they are songs – are rich in depth, with a sterile sheen covering the textures of tracks. 

Acid Synthesis and Keith Farrugia’s other projects remind us very much of the quality and versatility of E.R.P/Covextion’s work and, thanks to Erik and Sverre, definitely an artist we’ll want to hear more of in the future. 

 

Tim Reaper / Dwarde – Shiftpitchers / Not Afraid (Beyond Electronix)  12”

There’s definitely been something in the air when it comes to Drum n Bass and Jungle lately. It’s been on a few lips over the last couple of years, and a few lips we wouldn’t have expected it on. It’s having a moment and not in that hyper commercialised way of a few years back, but more rootsy and sincere. 

As with anything, it’s always hard to make that distinction between good and bad versions of a new encounter with a genre, but it seems people are garnering more discerning tastes when it comes to Drum n Bass and Jungle these. Those stadium metallic sounds, that borrowed heavily from the likes of Skrillex are dwindling with the attitude and sounds of the roots of this music stepping more into focus. 

This is the case for this 12” split from Furthur Electronix imprint Beyond Electronix. Tim Reaper and Dwarde, two artists that have been working together since 2012-ish, appear on  their latest, which happily falls into that good category when it comes to the genre . Between the heavy breaks and crushing bass, these tracks deliver in their own unique way. While Dwarde channels those soulful, sample-based inclinations of the genre’s origins, Reaper seems to fold in the entire history of UK bass music  and soundsystem culture with elements of dub and reggae weaving through the energetic rhythms. 

The too-pristine metallic-nature of a lot of modern DnB and Jungle is replaced by a chaotic and rich anthropomorphic noise.

 

DJ Backspace – Blackout (Altered Sense) 12″

It used to be called intelligent dance music or braindance, but It was always Techno. I guess because people had no handle on how this music was created in the beginning they thought people like Aphex Twin and Squarepusher were electronic music savants. It’s more likely they hardly had any idea what the results were going to be themselves when they pressed play on their machines in trying to emulate what they were hearing from Detroit.

It was and is, simply Techno, but as the term Techno itself gets modified and commercialised, we need something to distinguish this form of Techno from what most people associate with Techno today… you know, those people. While the terms Braindance or IDM still sit awkwardly on the tongue for most, it makes a good case for separating the wheat from the chaff on this record. 

Broken beats and glitching synthesisers find an elusive middle ground here as stark melodies and jaunty atmospheres forge through random arrangements. There’s a human touch interspersed throughout brazen computers vying for the listener’s attention. In a manner that reflects the best of that dichotomy, DJ Backspace delivers four engrossing tracks. 

The Electro-leaning rhythms and spastural melodic work counterpoints wonderfully against the barbed playfulness of the breakcore elements. “Electromo” and “C.I.T.Y” exemplify the best of these worlds, while “Blackout” and “New Experience Of Living” offer something more rugged and challenging, if only a little. 

 

DJ Fett Burger – Astral Solar, Edge of Galaxy, Planetary Exploration (Sex Tags)  12”

It’s all about the remixes on this one. Consolidating the digital releases from Fett Burger’s Digitalized Planet B in 2020 to vinyl, DJ Fett Burger gets these tracks on their intended  format. 

Astral Solar and Planetary Exploration is unmistakable Fett Burger; that eccentric versatility core to his work as he moves between the collage-House of Astral Solar to the galaxial- Electro of Planetary Exploration. While these tracks have made the rounds since their initial release in 2020, the attention on this record turns to  it is his own jackin’ take on Edge of Galaxy and SVN’s downtempo treatment of Planetary Exploration.

The Bad Booy Lenght V.IIbe PTX take on Edge of Galaxy is bass-heavy killer,  switching between filtered breaks and drumline snares with synthesised bass dragging the whole thing down to murky depths. Submerging the listener in a frothy wake of low-end frequencies ebbing through the track in lysergic movements. It digs deep trenches with its slow groove, only perhaps lagged by the tempo of SVN’s interpretation of Planetary Exploration.

A downtempo electro masterpiece retaining all the appeal of the original, but presenting it as this not-quite-ambient synthwave track. Filters gape in stifled breaths, giving the track an  organic pulse, moving slowly across the rhythmic beat. 



Star Gazing with George FitzGerald

I didn’t want to talk about the pandemic. For something that consumed two years of our lives and continues to take its toll, most of us –  and I’m sure George FitzGerald included – want to put it behind us. Its gravitational pull remains strong however and every conversation with artists and DJs I’ve had lately seems to skirt the event horizon of this cultural blackhole. Inevitably, our conversation too, falls headfirst into the subject and it’s the context of FitzGerald’s latest LP, Stellar Drifting. “It’s not a pandemic album, by any means,” insists FitzGerald, “but it’s impossible to separate that time from the music, because how could it not.” 

“At the beginning of the pandemic, A lot of people thought, ‘cool I’m gonna write my masterpiece now’ and then it went on for so long.” Stellar Drifting is not that type of album and the artist wouldn’t pander to these illusions. Like most, he “found sitting alone in a room on his own,” during the pandemic “isn’t that conducive to writing music. You kind of need the stimulus of going out and meeting people and having new life experiences.” He found “watching Tiger king and making sourdough bread, before hitting the studio” didn’t have quite the same inspirational effect  so while much of Stellar Drifting was finished during the pandemic, it doesn’t tap into the solemn and introspective concepts that mark those now-stereotypical “pandemic” albums.

Back in 2018, before the pandemic, George FitzGerald was cementing a new phase in his career as an album artist with his determined sophomore record, All that must be, blazing a trail ahead from his dance floor roots. He was touring the album with a live band, playing as far afield as Morocco and the USA on the back of the record and the remix album that followed. Clash magazine, for one, called All that Must be “a simply gorgeous listen, one that displays a striking producer operating in full confidence,” at the time, with that confidence establishing George FitzGerald as an album artist. 

Stellar Drifting however is no carbon copy of his last record. Instead, it marks another evolutionary notch in his sonic approach to the album. “It’s subtly different” from his last, he confirms, but it’s hard to pinpoint from the listener’s perspective. The expansive melodic and harmonic textures, gathering around stoic club-inspired rhythms remain central to his work, with the artist claiming that the whole album is “a little more major key, a bit more positive” than the last. “I wanted a broader palette harmonically than I have done in the past” and that also meant changing his approach to the creative process. “I went down a rabbit hole thinking how does my art matter in this world – what place does largely instrumental dance music have in a world where so much is going wrong?”

Relying on the tried and tested tactics from the “old friends” that constituted the familiar synthesisers and drum machines in the studio, wouldn’t suffice for this new creative pursuit. Instead FitzGerald turned his focus to “trying to build sound in different ways.” … And for that he looked to the stars for answers.  

“Building synthesiser oscillators from photos (from Nasa space probes)” George FitzGerald found new textures, but more importantly new ways to “give the sound some meaning.” He asked himself: “What would it sound like if you took this photo of a nebula from the Hubble telescope and loaded it into Ableton?” And while the listener might still only hear what sounds like a synthesised pad or a bassline, FitzGerald revels in the fact that “50% of that is made of something like a nebula or Jupiter.”

Listening to Cold, the second single from the LP, there’s a warmth there that usurps its title and the origins of the album’s theme. Deep bass-lines swell, alluding to George’s dance floor roots, while melodies enchant, pulling the listener through starry atmospheres. It’s music that sits in that elusive realm of electronic music between a set of headphones and a club dance floor, where George FitzGerald occupies a space amongst other boundary-defying luminaries, like Caribou and Bonobo. There’s a moment on Cold however when everything seems to slow down, and a chopped vocal sample emerges in the stark mix during one the song’s quieter moments. It’s instantly familiar as Geroge FitzGerald, and in the wave of the deep bass that surrounds it, I’m suddenly transported back to 2012, when I first encountered the artist’s music and his breakout record, Child.

Hea had already cut his chops with six singles and EPs to date for labels like Hotflush and AUS before Child seemed to propel him to a whole new level. It seemed impossible to escape the magnitude of the record at that time, especially in the UK. It was being played in bars and clubs all over London, long before it was released. “That track changed a lot of stuff for me,” reminisces FitzGerald. “I have good memories of it.” It’s a track that still holds its own today. The chopped vocal, the keys, and the warm bass simply seems to roll through you, energising an ephemeral spirit in the pit of your stomach. 

Child came at a time of great experimentation in the UK’s club music scene. In the post-Dubstep landscape, artists and DJs like Ben UFO, Joy O, Blawan, Midland and George FitzGerald were advancing to new territories  in electronic club music, with Dubstep’s deep and tumultuous bass, and experimental attitudes informing new styles of House, UK Garage, Techno and Electro coming out of the region. Later these artists and DJs would all go “off into slightly different directions,” with more focussed pursuits towards traditional genres and styles, but for a moment the UK was buzzing with a creative air in the context of club music, and George FitzGerald was a part of it. He produced Child as a “deep house track made off the cuff,” while holding court over the Deep House section of a record store he worked, but it impressed on the scene and the DJ circuit a different approach to Deep House, one a fair few attempted to mimic. 

“That was fun for a bit,” reminisces FitzGerald, “but honestly that’s not what I wanted starting off.” As the other artists from the post-dubstep scene grew and moved into different directions, so did he. “I stopped writing music for club sets a long time ago.” Never really one to write “four tunes in a day,” he was always looking for something more substantial in his music, and for him the album format had always seemed like this intangible purpose of his pursuits, perhaps even planting that initial seed to the questions,” how does my art matter in this world.”

“I always wanted to see if I could do it”, he says about the idea that spurned on his first album, Fading Love. “When I started, the thought of writing a ten track album on my own, it just seemed insane,” but it turned out to be something he instinctively mastered. Fading Love was an immediate success. The Guardian called it  “an intimate and beautifully textured record” and it went some way in establishing a nascent crossover success. The benchmark he’d set himself it seemed had been achieved. “I really enjoyed the process,” and the confidence set him on a path, leading up to today and his latest album, Stellar Drifting.

In his continuous evolution through these records as an artist, George FitzGerald has emerged as a more-than-capable song-writer, on par with his technical skill as a producer. Over the last couple of records, the cut up vocals have matured into fully rounded pop songs with guest vocal appearances, from the likes of Tracey Thorne on All that Must Be and Panda Bear on Stellar Drifting validating FitzGerald’s song-writing skills. “I wanted to scratch the itch of writing songs,” he says. It’s an itch that has been with him since adolescence, listening to the likes of Gary Numan and Billy Corgan of Smashing Pumpkins.

“A lot of people have asked me about the Billy Corgan influence,” he says with a laugh when I pry. “The funny thing is that when you’re fifteen for six months you’re a Garage kid, and then suddenly you’re like ‘I’m just gonna start dressing differently and go watch the Smashing Pumpkins” when youthful “tribal” instincts kick in. “The thing with Billy Corgan is he’s obviously an amazing song-writer, but there’s also this other gothic side to him. There’s this kind of grandeur to the best Smashing Pumpkins stuff and I’ve always loved that.“ FitzGerald suggests you can hear those “maximalists” elements in his first single from the new album, Ultraviolet with its cascading arrangements and bold orchestration. 

It’s certainly the furthest, I’ve heard George FitzGerald travel from his dance -floor roots, and I’m curious how he would channel a track like that into a DJ set, and the answer is unsurprisingly, he wouldn’t. “I find it quite difficult,” he says about making his album pieces work in his sets. On the rare occasion he might try to accommodate a request, he’s all too aware of the “rules in clubs” and the “ways of directing energy” through a set. He started out as a DJ after all, and while he might not consider it a central node to his artistic identity today, it’s still very much there and it makes for a welcomed change to his live sets. “Djing is just a really nice counterpoint. It’s very spontaneous and a lot less heavy than a live show.” 

Most significantly it’s a way of maintaining that connection to club music and the dance floor. “Writing albums doesn’t reconnect you with audiences and clubbing, and what got you into the music in the first place, like DJing.” It’s something that he was particularly aware of during the pandemic. “What I missed; travelling around and meeting new people and going to new places, was a really important part of how I write my music, I didn’t know that before.” He hadn’t been gigging much during the pandemic and after, as he was finishing off the album, and before that he’d mainly been focussed on his live sets. Through DJing, in part, he’s looking to “get that connection back with a scene.”

“Weirdly” he says, he’s “quite desperate to release an EP” too, going full circle back to his roots after a trio of albums. Stellar Drifting will arrive four years after his last, “and that in modern music is an age,” FitzGerald muses. Not that long ago it would’ve been considered a come-back record, but for an artist like George FitzGerald who is “always evolving as an artist,” it’s another evolutionary step. “So much has happened since the last record and the world is completely different,” and it’s only natural for these elements to feed into the growth of the artist. Whether he’ll eventually receive an answer to his question: “does my art matter in this world?” after the release of the album, remains to be seen, but one thing is certain; it would certainly matter in the context of George FitzGerald’s artistic legacy. 

The ultimate facilitator: Q&A with Pete Herbert

Pete Herbert has been a dedicated statesman for all things electronic music since the 1990’s. He came to the fore during the heyday of House and Acid in the UK, starting out as a pusher and consumer of the music. Working in record stores like Daddy Kool from a young age, music and Djing was an early pursuit. 

Eventually he established his own record store in the form of Atlas records, along with some friends on London’s infamous vinyl alley, where people like Andrew Weatherall would frequent and haunt the record store’s well-stocked shelves. Pete and the crew would curate an esoteric assemblage of electronic music treasures informed by the sounds of the underground at the time.

Moonlighting as a DJ, Pete Herbert cut his teeth in some of the world’s most legendary booths at the same time. Fabric, Ministry Of Sound, 333, The Blue Note and Sancho Panza at Notting Hill Carnival, were some of the legendary spots he called home. It was a time when the DJ was still a facilitator and you were only ever as good as your record collection. He eventually moved on from the record store  to a full-time career from the DJ booth by the beginning of the new millennium.

He’s a well-traveled patron of the artform, with residencies in some of the farthest flung corners of the world. For a little over a decade Pete has spent the winter months based in Bali as the music director for Potato Head Beach Club. From Bali as his base, he’s played all over south-east Asia, expanding on the exotic sounds of his early balearic pursuits both as a DJ and an artist. 

As an artist, Pete Herbert’s discography is formidable, well into three digits with original material and remixes for some esteemed colleagues, like Optimo and Röyksopp dotting his extensive efforts. When he’s not making music, he’s proliferating it; from his early days, working record stores in London, to establishing record labels. From Maxi Discs to his latest, Music for Swimming Pools – a sunset mix series turned label – these labels build and perpetuate the sound he’s cultivated as a DJ and artist with those initial balearic sounds remaining a key influence in his interpretations of House music. 

He’s enjoyed an extensive and prominent career, and with a visit to Jaeger looming, we shot him a few questions over email, to learn more about those early years in London’s vinyl alley, his music, origins and his work as a true facilitator.  

Pete Herbert lands at Jaeger this Friday

Hello Pete and thank you for taking the time to talk to us. I imagine you had quite a varied musical experience growing up, having lived in Trinidad as a kid and experiencing the London music scene in the eighties. How do you think it affected your tastes as a DJ early on?

Hello Jaeger and firstly thanks for inviting me to your fine establishment, I can’t wait!

Yes I would say my older sisters musical taste and growing up in Trinidad then Eighties London suburbs very much shaped my early years of music. That would have been essentially new wave and pop primarily with some Soul thrown in as I remember, then towards the mid eighties discovering pirate radio and inner London record shops got me into much wider sounds that shaped my London teens such as rare groove/ funk and hip hop and then electronic music.

Where did you eventually find your place within that larger scene?

I began working in records shops from my late teens, and would carry on doing that until into my mid thirties pretty much full time all the way, so that became my home from home. Most days were.. work in the record shop, then go to a gig or club, then another club etc, home, up then repeat.

How did you go from being a fan, to DJing yourself?

It was often the natural  progression back then when you immersed yourself in buying and selling records to that degree. Starting with warm up slots anywhere you could get them, and practicing like hell.

I would imagine that Atlas would have been a pivotal point in your life. Were you a collector/consumer before you set up shop and what was the catalyst for you wanting to open a record shop?

A collector/consumer of course first but after working in a few shops, especially the reggae shop Daddy Kool, and being exposed to the workings of it and how not to run one, the urge to do it myself was eventually too great. Plus there was a lack of a specialist shop that sold all the stuff I was into, so I saw a gap in the market shall we say.

What kind of records were you stocking and how did they inform your tastes as a DJ and eventually the music you created?

We stocked an independant cross section of leftfield house, dub, disco, electronica, jazz, techno, collections/2nd hand, and whatever else we were into that we could get hold of. We avoided any commercial releases and mainstream stuff.

There was an interesting crowd there, I believe with people like Andrew Weatherall frequenting the place. But do you think there was anything like a sound or a scene around Atlas that perhaps stood out amongst the other record shops in the street?

We never ‘pushed’ music on our customers, we offered the selection and would recommend stuff .. but otherwise we shunned the record shop ego nonsense that was rife back then.

Leaving the record stores behind, did you find that getting away from that world had any effect on your experience as a DJ and music enthusiast?

By the time I closed the shop and then worked in a few others, the way you got music and played it had already started to change. CDJS were starting to appear in venues and WAVS and AIFFS were taking over from DATs. You could get emailed promos, burn cds etc, so If you were open to embracing new technology you could benefit from it. But what that meant was a real vacuum left by the demise of the record shops as a focal point/community for many record buyers that was never replaced in the same way. I think it affected a lot of djs and buyers at the time.

Besides residencies at places like Fabric and Ministry of Sound, you have  also been a booker for Bali’s Potato Head. How do you see the role of the club in relation to this music, and how has it changed in your opinion?

Music and its delivery are still the pivotal point to the club for me, whether the club has changed and is now an event or happening. Getting the right balance isn’t always easy though. Potato Head in Bali was an amazing venue, so the music had to live up to that.

It seems that new scenes are less-likely to be built around a club today and more likely to be built around the internet. As a DJ, a producer, record label owner, and previous record store owner what effect do you believe this has had on the music?

I think a club can offer a place for people to feel inclusion and a sense of belonging. So that you might feel you could go there regardless of knowing who’s playing/what night it is. That for me is the sign of a good club. I know if I go there I will feel welcome, the music programming is thought through and the sound is spot on, nice staff etc. That is a scene right there for me..

For some time now, you’ve been doing Music for Swimming Pools. It’s an intriguing project, can you tell us a bit more about it?

MFSP started as a radio show maybe 14 or so years ago on Ibiza radio station Sonica. I was out there a fair bit djing and guesting on it regularly and it progressed from there. It was an outlet for me to play non dancefloor sets of an emotive/electronic/balearic nature and a few years later became its own free 24/7 streaming platform.  With no jingles or chat, It plays a continual mix of that sound that can be accessed anytime and place. It’s quite low key without any advertising or fanfare and I’ve recently relaunched the label side of it, with a new EP from me due out the night I play in Jaeger. You can check the site here: 

https://musicforswimmingpools.co.uk

Besides being a facilitator, you’ve released something like 400 records and counting. What keeps you motivated in the studio, and how do you believe your music has changed since those first records in the mid nineties?

I guess I’m just still as obsessed with music as I was as a collector, then as a seller, then playing it and making it. I would hope my production skills have come on a bit in the last decade or so, though I’ve never had any formal training. Maybe that has been the key to being so prolific. I’m not quite the perfectionist many studio trained producers are, I’m more of a pragmatist shall we say.

Balearic is something that often gets associated with your music, based perhaps on the downtempo and eclectic nature of your music. Is there perhaps a singular objective when you create original music and what if anything continues to inform your approach?

I find inspiration for production in the music I collect and go digging for every week.  Be it an old 70’s obscure album or a brand new producer’s first release. The approach for me is usually the aim of an end product I would play out or happily listen to lying on a beach.

You have a lot of experience playing in different venues across different parts of the world. How does a place or location affect what you pack in your bag for the night and how do you think that will go when you come to Jaeger?

Luckily I have been in Jaeger before as a punter, and actually quite recently too, so I know a little bit what Jaeger is all about, and that counts for a lot. I know I will be made to feel very welcome, that the music programming is thought through and the sound is spot on, and they have nice staff. For me that’s the perfect kind of environment to play music in. See you there.

 

Building connections with Lara Palmer

In the spectrum of Techno’s expansive history, we’re living in an age of supremacy for the genre. More popular today than the previous height of success in the late nineties, its adulation is only really surpassed by its more accessible cousin, Tech-House. It’s a golden age for Techno, with everything from brutalist marching rhythms to soulful dub inclinations broadening the scope of the genre. Being a fan is no longer a singular pursuit, with individual tastes as varied as the people that follow them.

With so many new artists and DJs coming to the genre, each with their own approach and style of playing and making music, there’s a subjectivity that arises and it takes a unique individual to come to the fore in this landscape. Lara Palmer is such an individual. A DJ, music writer and editor for mnmt.no she arrives at the genre with a sense of objectivity that few are able to concede in their activities in Techno.

A DJ that avoids the ubiquitous DJ/producer tag and a writer that avoids the perilous cavern of reviews in favour of proliferating artistic voices, Lara is a distinctive entity in today’s musical landscape. A  Norwegian/German, who spent some time in Norway in her youth, she’s done her bit in securing that ineffable bridge between Norway and Berlin in music. Alongside factions like flux collective, techno kjelleren, ute.rec, and all the raves happening around the forests each summer, Norway’s occupations with Techno have seen the genre’s popularity grow exponentially in the last few years.

Lara and her work through mnmt as a blog, event series and festival have played no small part in growing appreciation for the genre. As writer and editor, she continues to shine a light on the great producers of the genre, while as a DJ she avidly supports the scene by buying the records and distributing it to anybody that will listen. 

She arrives at Jaeger next Friday to play alongside SGurvin in the basement so we turned the tables on her for a bit of Q&A time with our next guest. We talked to her about influences, her love of Techno and drawing the line between music writer and DJ. 

Hey Lara. Thank you for taking the time to answer some questions. What is your earliest memory of a piece of music?

The earliest one must be my mother singing Norwegian lullabies to me. I also have vivid childhood memories of music by Édith Piaf, Caetano Veloso, Jan Garbarek or Glenn Gould playing on the stereo at home. I remember being quite captivated by it.

I played classical violin throughout my school days, but did not really like practising on my own. I much rather enjoyed playing in the orchestra, building a body of sound together. This might have been some of my first experiences of people being gathered in a room filled to the brim with frequencies, something I have been drawn to ever since. 

 What was your introduction to electronic- and club music? Has it always been about Techno, and what first drew you to the sounds of the genre? 

I started getting interested in electronic music around age 14/15, when I was living in a small city in Northern Norway. (I grew up in Berlin, but lived in Mo i Rana between age 11 and 15.) We were a group of friends that were somewhat nerdy about music, spending many hours on Myspace, exchanging playlists or wandering around the quiet streets with our headphones on, listening to stuff like Kim Hiorthøy, Ratatat, Xploding Plastix, 120 days or The Knife. We also listened to a lot of indie bands, and I remember especially liking stuff where synths were involved.   

When I moved back to Berlin and started going out – to open airs around the city, the so-called Sexy Döner parties, Club der Visionäre and Fusion festival – I gradually listened more and more closely to the music being played. That interest never let me go again, but it was first during the time I lived in Oslo to study and worked at The Villa on the weekends, that I became able to clearly distinguish what I actually resonated with genre wise, which evolved towards what I would call minimalistic, atmospheric and trippy techno.  

You say you’re drawn to the atmospheric, minimalist and trippy sounds. What are some of your influences and touchstones for this kind of sound?

Even though he plays varied, in my opinion Freddy K is a great example of the stripped back, no-fuss kind of techno I enjoy most. Mike Parker and Markus Suckut have perfected a minimalist approach when it comes to production, each in their own way. In terms of atmosphere and trippiness I can mention Dasha Rush, Jane Fitz, Sandwell District, Rødhåd, Yogg, Synthek or natural/electronic.system. as some of the artists that have left a strong impression on me.       

As a trained musician, did you slip into DJing with ease and what were some of the main obstacles in the transition from a music lover to a DJ? 

I did my first attempts at DJing using timecode vinyl and CDJs, and struggled a little with those media. When I switched to vinyl, I found it easier to build the sort of connection to and understanding of the music playing that is helpful for DJing. (Thanks to Korpex who provided the time and space for me to get introduced to the craft!) My musical ear trained by years of conscious listening was surely helping, but I think practice helps even more – and I still have a great deal of that to do.  

Do you have any aspirations to make music?

In an ideal world I would, but at this moment in my life I do not feel that I can prioritise it.

You’re not only a DJ and admirer, but you’re also a writer and editor who proliferates this music through your work at mnmt.no. How did you get into that aspect of music?

I have enjoyed writing for a long time, and am a social and cultural anthropologist by training. So researching, interviewing and writing about interesting people, trying to get across a glimpse of an artist’s world is simply very inspiring. If it helps them promote their art, it gives me a sense of purpose.

More specifically, I started writing for Monument five years ago, when I bumped into a part of the crew at a festival in the Spanish mountains and they needed someone to edit the review of it.

How does that aspect of your life and work influence what you do in the booth or your musical tastes?

Being part of the collective gives me a frame to develop within, and a community of like-minded people to share thoughts and ideas. Of course it influences my focus of listening, but there is not a complete overlap between the sub genres of techno associated with Monument and what I like the most, so there is always room to explore different avenues. 

How do you maintain a sense of objectivity as a fan and DJ of this music when you are writing about it or presenting it via Monument?

Listening is a very personal experience, so when music is concerned, maintaining a sense of objectivity is difficult. To circumvent this, I have for instance very rarely written reviews. I prefer interviews, where I can stay in the background, letting the artists speak. Yet my subjectivity will always be part of the exchange somehow.  

You seem to spend your time between Berlin and Oslo. How do these two cities influence how you might approach a set?

I live in Berlin but visit Oslo regularly. I don’t think the city itself influences my approach too much, I rather think about the room I will be playing in and think about what could fit the setting. 

While Berlin is the epicentre for Techno, Oslo’s certainly found an idiosyncratic scene in recent years. How do you distinguish the sound and style of these two places and where do you think they share a common ground today?

I would say that the Oslo scene has “traditionally” been dominated by house and disco, but has become increasingly receptive to techno in recent years – even though it is hard to judge from a distance. But since I moved back to Berlin six years ago, I somehow got the impression that there are more artists and crews popping up beyond the Oslo-disco/house-continuum. Another sign of good health is the Ute.Rec crew, who do really inspired stuff that you maybe would not expect from Oslo.  

Pinning down a specific sound or style of Berlin is hard because here you have literally everything. What might bind it all together though could be the urge to constantly push towards new territories.

Berlin is such a mecca for a vinyl enthusiast. Where do you like to go to find music to DJ, and what preferences do you have when it comes to buying old vs new? 

I have found many great records – old and new – at Spacehall over the years. A more recent discovery has been The Consulate, a hidden place run by three Belgians. Bikini Waxx is great for finding used gems. 

What do you look for in a track to make into one of your sets?

There is of course a certain frame given by the kind of aesthetic I like, but in the end I chose a track if I can hear an artistic inspiration behind it and if it speaks to me. Either it clicks or it does not. On the other hand, I often find tracks on records I bought quite some time ago for other reasons that I suddenly enjoy very much, so I think what you perceive in a track has a lot to do with the state you are in at a specific moment.

Any secret/not-so-secret weapons that will be making it in your bag on the way to Norway?

 You can expect anything from this

 to this



A beautiful thing with Roman Flügel

You don’t simply dip into Roman Flügel’s discography. The Frankfurt artist has been nothing short of prolific. Whether working alongside Jörn Elling Wuttke on the myriad of projects, ranging from Acid Jesus to Alter Ego, or his own extensive solo discography (under some more aliases), there is an expansive undertaking awaiting those willing to venture into Roman Flügel’s catalogue. In a career stretching a little over three decades, including his collaborations with Wuttke, his work has become seminal touchstones through the various epochs of club music.

You wouldn’t assume that from his demeanour. Humble and friendly, he’s accommodating when we sit down for a conversation in the bar at Jaeger. A regular visitor to our club, we’ve come to know Roman as one of the nicest DJs to pass through our booth. He cuts a striking figure. Tall with angular facial features which have only seemed to sharpen with age. Sitting across from him, it’s hard to believe Roman Flügel is 52 years old and that he’s been there since the very beginning of Techno music. “Talking about age,” he says in his familiar German accent, “I don’t think too much about it, you can’t do anything about it anyway.” He finds it “really interesting” to play alongside the next generation of DJs, and he’s quite aware that the music he buys is often made by people who “are probably younger,” but he’s only content in that fact.  “That’s the way it is,” he says completely deadpan, “and that’s the way it should be.” 

“Touring and what I am doing,” he continues “is something I always dreamt about. When I was young I wanted to live the exact life I’m living, so why should I complain?” 

Roman grew up in Frankfurt, coming of age in what was probably the most crucial time for Techno, not least in Roman’s hometown. While the wall was coming down in Berlin, opening up a world of music from places like Detroit, Frankfurt was experiencing its own revolution in sound, almost independently. ”It was an interesting time, because you had all these scenes in different cities,” remembers Roman. “Even cities within Germany had completely different scenes.”

As technology and intent conspired, it developed into a new musical frontier called Techno and House music, and at Frankfurt they were right there on the cusp of this new wave of music. (It’s even believed in some circles that the term Techno was coined in Frankfurt, but Roman is not so convinced.) Clubs like Dorian Gray and Omen became influential bodies in the landscape, stepping out of the sound of Belgium New Beat, New Wave, Synth Pop towards the more functional domain that these dance floors soon demanded with DJs like Talla 2XLC and Sven Väth adopting Techno and House in their sets early on. Roman Flügel was a sprightly 16 year-old when he first started frequenting Dorian Gray.

“I sneaked in with some girls I knew – You always had to go in with girls otherwise you wouldn’t come in,“ remembers Roman. The club had “no curfew”, because it was located at the airport, and Roman distinctly recalls “polishing his shoes in the airport toilets” before visits. It wasn’t a mere coincidence that Dorian Gray would be his first choice, because the club’s reputation preceded itself even then. His first taste of electronic music came via the iconic club, sometime before he even set foot in the place. 

His older brother had been a Dorian Gray regular and would bring home bootleg tapes from the club. ”People would copy sets from Dorain Gray,” he explains, “and sell them for 50 Deutsche marks.” That was a lot of money back then, but it was also the “only way to get information” about this new music according to Roman. “You would hear the music in the club and then it was gone afterwards,” so the tapes were instrumental in proliferating the sound of House and Techno at that time. 

“As a young kid, a 90min cassette would open a whole new world for me,” recalls Roman. Naturally, he started out as a “fan,” and his love for this music only solidified with time, especially after the appearance of the Omen. After Dorian Gray, “The Omen was the place for me to be,” insists Roman. As House and Techno developed out of their initial prototypes, the Omen became the “main place for House and Techno” in Frankfurt and continued to open up a new world for the young Roman. 

Although he had been playing as a drummer in a band, the lure of electronic music was stronger. Curiosity eventually got the best of him and at some point he asked himself: “how do they do this kind of music?” He started visiting local musical instrument shops, “trying synthesisers and finding out how they made the sounds” he had heard on his tapes and at these clubs. Eventually he thought; “Maybe I should use a drum machine instead of being a drummer” and his fate was sealed.

The rhythm remained central to dance music’s appeal for Roman as he found a new outlet through the sound of machines. He started putting his efforts to demo tapes via a four track recorder in a bedroom at his parent’s house, playing them to friends who would orbit the same indie bars he would haunt at that time. Eventually somebody told Roman: “You better give one of your demo tapes to Jörn (Elling Wuttke) because he has a better studio than you at your parent’s house. He has a studio at his grandfather’s house in the garage!” Jörn was a singer and guitarist in a band that moved in the same musical circles as Roman, and the pair quickly found a common ground between their creative personalities. 

“It’s always a different dynamic when you start to have an interaction,” remarks Roman about their working relationship. “Things become very tense and at the same time very different. Somethings would pop up that you would have never created on your own.“ They started bringing their demos to their local record store Delirium, another iconic name in the early Frankfurt scene, run by ATA – long before he moved on to establish legendary Frankfurt club, Robert Johnson – and Heiko Schäfer. “They liked them a lot” and put out the first Acid Jesus record, cementing a production partnership that lasted over 15 years and went through many different guises from Acid Jesus to Alter Ego during the course of their career. 

Why all these … alter egos? “It’s a bit strange, ja” Roman agrees. “The beginning of an era, you would have a lot of different people asking you to put out a record on their label, but then they would ask for a different name“ to perhaps distinguish their label from another that the artist might also appear on. It did “become very complicated at some point,” but it was all consolidated as Alter Ego eventually in the early 2000’s at what was probably the pinnacle of their success together. 

Alter Ego had been around as a project for almost as long as Roman and Jörn had been working together, but as they stepped out of the nineties into the next millennium, the sound of the project changed and suddenly made an incredible impact on the scene and beyond. For an entire generation it was Alter Ego and specifically the track Rocker that brought people to the work of Roman Flügel. The gnawing synthesisers and accessible melody of the track was the perfect crossover point from guitars to synthesisers at a time when rock music’s dominance was finally waning. Arriving at the time of electroclash, it brought a whole new, and different kind of audience to club music.

We were amazed by the success of the record,” says Roman. “It was a crazy time,” for them with world tours and notoriety following Rocker and the album, Transformer. “The rooms became bigger and bigger” as they rode the success of that record, sustained by a newfound popularity for electronic dance music. “After that electronic dance music became super big, especially in the US,” remembers Roman “but we weren’t taking part in that mega-success, we were at the edge of it.” It was a double-edged sword however and although Rocker was somehow the peak of our success, at the same time “it was the end of our studio-working relationship,” says Roman, looking back. The intensity had exhausted both Roman and Jörn. “At a certain point when you play your own music all the time, it becomes quite tiring. We didn’t have the power to reinvent ourselves.”

Amicably and cordially, Jörn and Roman went their separate ways. In their time together they had accomplished what most established artists only dreamed. Successful records, touring on an international stage, and remix and production credits for everybody, from Sven Väth to The Human League, all the while maintaining the elusive connection to the underground purists. There wasn’t anywhere else they could go, and it was up to Roman to reinvent himself, now working under his eponymous moniker. 

He continued to work on dance floor focussed 12” with the purpose of something to “play as a DJ,” but at the same time there came a shift in his approach to albums. “I think especially after I finished working with Alter Ego back in the day,” confirms Roman. “That was a very dance floor oriented project for many years” and Roman wanted to take a step back from that, especially in the longer format. “My solo albums; all of them are more a listening experience for different environments than clubs.” 

Three albums for Dial records; a conceptual audioscape for ESP; and his official debut on Frankfurt label Running Back, constitutes this period of albums over the last decade. From the minimal incantations of those Dial records to the lush ambient and break beat constructions of his latest, Eating Darkness, these records sound and feel like you’re at the entrance of a club; that moment you’re about to step through the doors. The rhythms take on abstract forms with only the faint glimmer of their four-four roots peaking through the shadows. 

I suggest to Roman that even when he is not pursuing those impulses, the dance floor still echoes through even the most ambient incantations of a record like Eating Darkness. “It’s stored deep in my brain,” he agrees. Roman Flügel has an incredible instinct for this music. Over the course of 30 years, it’s been deeply ingrained. “It happens naturally,” and “it’s not conscious” on his part. “I use bits and pieces that I’ve heard in my life before,” he continues and when I suggest that I can hear glimmers of that first Warp 69 record through Eating Darkness, he merely gives a wry chuckle. I’m not sure if it’s the reference or perhaps that there is indeed a red thread between a song like “Jocks and Freaks”(2021) and “Floating”(1992) that has amused him, but it says something of the work that has, and continues to stay the test of time.

There’s an elusive quality that even underpins his collaborative works with Jörn, and it has a broader appeal than most dance floor records. Whether it’s your first experience with Alter Ego’s Rocker or finding a new favourite record in the form of Acid Jesus’ Interstate 10 years after that, no-matter where your finger lands, there’s bound to be a record and sometimes even a period where Roman Flügel has been either a significant or pivotal figure on the electronic music scene ordained for clubs.

Even as our conversation winds down, he talks about re-issues of records that I’ve never heard of before. “Tracks on delivery” stands out amongst these not merely for their rarity on Discogs, but the fact that the re-issue will see Roman Flügel playing live again, for the first time since his Alter Ego days. It evokes a memory of seeing an age-less Roman Flügel peering over a computer screen at Fabrikken in Oslo for Sunkissed around 2007. It’s that image I see later again in our basement on the day of our interview. He seems happier, somewhat more content behind the decks than the screen. The crowd, most of whom are younger, is reciprocating and I’m reminded of something he told me earlier that day. “It’s a beautiful thing to travel and play music and meet interesting people.”

We’ll keep flying the banner

We’ll stay open tonight to show our support for Oslo’s LGBTQI++ community

In light of the a heinous attack on Oslo’s LGBTQI++ community outside of London Pub, our first thoughts are with the victims and their families. We are completely lost for words and perplexed that something like this can still happen in 2022, but we want to send a message of support for all those affected by this act.

As a club built on the foundations of House music, we’re all too aware of the history and legacy of the queer community on our scene. We always try to honour and respect those roots in everything that we do, and when we hear about an attack like this we feel it on a personal level.

So, considering the events and based on the information we’ve received thus far from the authorities, we’ve taken the decision to stay open tonight in a show of solidarity. After discussing it at length with our staff, our security team, Oslo’s city council and some of the other venues in town, we are planning to remain open with the scheduled programme to offer some support for this community and do our utmost to allow a safe space for Oslo’s LGBTQI++ community.

We have been informed by a member of the city council that extra precautions are in place and while they had to cancel a high-profile event like Pride, they have assured us that the smaller events will and should go on.

The incident, which from the information we’ve received thus far, seems to be an isolated occurrence. We feel, as House music club we have a certain obligation to the queer community to offer a safe space for all. We don’t further want to legitimise these ignorant assaults of discrimination in this scene, city and country. We will take extra steps to keep everybody safe, and we urge people to stay vigilant, especially as they make their way through town.

We’ll keep monitoring the situation and update this website if there are any changes or new information. Stay safe.

 

Sexy Music with James Hillard from Horse Meat Disco

We speak to Horse Meat Disco’s James Hillard about pork pies and voulevants, sexy music, queer nights that are open to all and the enduring legacy of Disco.

“Vi skal sees,” says James Hillard at the end of our phone call. I pause, not knowing if I heard him correctly; the Horse Meat Disco DJ is English, afterall. He shoots off another couple of sentences in practised Swedish too fast for my poor second-language Norwegian to catch. “I speak some Swedish,” he says, expecting my surprise. As a student he took up the language on a “totally random” impulse decided by chance. “I literally took out a map of Europe and waved my finger over it and then landed on Sweden,” he explains with a little chuckle. James speaks a few languages in fact, and he’s something of a word-smith in the way he engages the listener.

James is easy to talk to. He is eloquent and bubbly, and even when he says he says he’s “rambling,” he’s concise, following facts with anecdotes to questions he must have heard a thousand of times before. He knows his audience, and he’s always at hand with a quip that sticks in your mind like a song lyric to quote later. He converses in the way you’d expect a Disco DJ to speak. Earnest about the details, but never taking himself too seriously with a sense of playfulness, even at the cost of being self-effacing. Isn’t that what Disco is all about and isn’t it just what Horse Meat Disco has always been about too?

Alongside Luke Howard, Jim Stanton and Severino Panzetta, James has helped install Horse Meat Disco as an international clubbing institution. Residencies in New York and Berlin; an intense touring schedule for its DJs; a radio show; and records, including mixed compilations like their latest Back to Mine contribution, have made them prominent figures on an international stage. “And we’re still there every Sunday at the Eagle,” says James jokingly. Like we needed reminding. “A queer night that is open to all,” the club night has remained unwavering in it’s spot in Vauxhall, London and continues to draw crowds on a weekly basis some twenty years on after it’s initial party.

*James Hillard and Luke Howard represent Horse meat Disco in our booth next Frædag.

It’s reached that untenable position for most club nights with its success based on the mere fact it exists. They don’t need to book headlining DJs or do much in the way of promotion; “the people come to see us,” says James. The reputation precedes the name wherever they go, extending far beyond the fairly inconspicuous roots at the Eagle to an international DJ circuit and it all started with a humorous name – taken from a newspaper article that read “Horse meat discovered” – and a very simple idea…

“Playing disco to gay boys is hardly rocket science,” says James. Up until the point Horse Meat Disco arrived on the scene “the UK club scene was circuit music,” playing what James refers to as “Tribal and House” music. “Electroclash was probably the closest thing… otherwise it was trashy music.” He and Jim Stanton established the club night in this environment back in the early 2000’s. Starting out on a Thursday night in a venue in London’s Chinatown, they eventually found their way to the Eagle (née Dukes) when they hosted a New Year’s Day party for the predominantly bear crowd. James and Jim had been regular punters at Dukes, taking advantage of the “free supply of pork pies and voulevants” at the Friday night buffets while working as poor interns for “trendy” record companies and magazines. 

“To begin with it was more like the electroclash and bear scene colliding with a few daddies thrown in,” when Horse Meat Disco arrived. “There was a feeling that we hit on something,” remembers James. There “weren’t many clubs that play that kind of music,” and especially not in gay clubs. “You heard Disco in the straight scene more than the gay scene” making James and Jim question, “why aren’t gays listening to Disco, it’s music for them?”

They stepped into the void effortlessly and called on long-time friends Luke Howard and Severino Panzetta, whose experience abetted where Jim and James’ skills as DJs were still developing. “They would be the main DJs and I would do the warm-up, and a few years later Jim started DJing” until eventually “we became a soundsystem.” Spurred on by a shared love for music from an era roughly between 1975-1985, they set in stone a sound that remains consistent, and more importantly, consistently good. 

Their latest contribution to the Back to Mine series is a testament to that sound today. The iconic DMC compilation, which re-surfaced in 2019 added Horse Meat Disco to their esteemed alumni last month. Alongside artists like Danny Tenaglia and Pet Shop Boys, Horse Meat Disco appears like it was always meant to be there. They invariably understood the assignment and delivered a mix that is all about the after-party. It’s a “reflection of things that we’d really love to play in a club, but never get a chance to, or feel it’s not appropriate to,” explains James. Slow, chugging pieces emerge throughout the compilation mix, skirting the fringes of the dance floor, often touching on some experimental plane, while never veering from that elusive common denominator which has always been, Disco. 

But why Disco, I ask James? What is it about Disco that remains so consistent and refuses to die, why does it survive to this day? “First and foremost it’s the quality,” he suggests. He believes that decade was a “peak level for musicianship, artistry, production techniques and hifi sound.” And in the current epoch, when dance music is all about tracks and beats, there’s a craft there that has only solidified over time. It’s all about “songs, emotions and release” with “great songwriting” at the heart of it all. Then again he might be biassed, his “first love was Disco.”

Growing up in a house full of records collected by his dad, who used to moonlight as a DJ, it’s assumed that James was born with Disco in his ears. He would often “sneak into the attic” and listen to his dad’s records until a time when he started collecting his own records. His first music job was in a contemporary dance music label,” but Disco remained central to his personal pursuit. Disco was and remains a “great leveller” for James but it’s also a “broad church” and can easily travel from those early organic sounds of Soul to the fast-paced electronic sequences of early House music. It’s “different things to different people” he explains. “From rock to House,” it’s always a fleeting construct and “always eclectic” but central to it all and most importantly, is that it’s “sexy music.”

And the longer Horse Meat Disco has gone on, “the… more discerning” their audience has become in terms of their tastes for this music. Tracks like “in the evening” by Sheryl Lee Ralph and “the boss” by Diana Ross have become staples and are still requested by a crowd that “has remained” consistent, albeit getting “younger” according to James. “We’ve had people play a gospel set and we‘ve had Andrew Weatherall not really playing Disco, but just doing what he does. People are receptive and as long as it’s quality music, we’re down.“

The eponymous connection aside, Horse Meat Disco’s success is also in part due to that audience they attract, and the association of Disco’s roots. As music that was, if not born from the gay community, certainly adopted as such, Disco’s connection to queer lifestyles is something that is also deeply rooted in Horse Meat Disco’s platform. the club night was one of the first nights to establish the open door policy that permeates through most clubs today; a queer night that it is open to all. It’s something we’ve witnessed more in recent years, as club culture’s popularity has been appropriated by the mainstream. But how do you define queer, in this sprwaling landscape, I wonder?

Photo of Horse meat DiscoJames doesn’t feel queer is a “sexual statement,” but rather an ideology. “I know cis straight woman who identify as queer,” he says as an example. For James, queer is about a “rejection of patriarchy” and a the celebration of “alternative lifestyles” on dance floors. “As long as they bring love and joy to the dance, then everybody is welcome,” insists James. Even though the party they “do in New York is a different crowd to the one in London and the one in Berlin is different to both of those,” that queer element remains at its core and James “loves the fact that it’s all things to all people.” Much like Disco, queer is an ideology and in many cases the music and that ideology is inseperable. 

In recent years Horse Meat Disco haven’t merely been content in capturing this spirit as a soundsystem, and have turned their attention to the recorded format. Imbibed by the sound and quality of those early Disco productions, Horse Meat Disco’s approach has been to facilitate the magic, more than create it. “We are not producers,” insists James, “we work with other people.” After years of making edits, remixes and the odd demo, they finally made the leap to becoming a fully fledged album artist back in 2020 with their debut LP, “Love and Dancing” arriving on Glitterbox. They were “sitting on the demos (for the album) for a long time,” before Luke Howard played them to Luke Solomon (classic records) who thought; “I can do something with this.”

“Love and Dancing” is a modern Disco classic, emerging on the convalescence of those old organic sounds and modern electronic wizardry. Syncopated beats move between sequenced drum machines, while bass guitars in an artificial disguise bounce through arrangements. Synthesisers whistle where expansive string sections used to reside and elements of House music live harmoniously alongside its Disco matriarch. 

Remix requests for the likes of Dua Lipa and David Holmes followed the LP, establishing the name Horse Meat Disco as a verified triple threat. Recording artist, club night, soundsystem and of course DJ collective, Horse Meat Disco commands all these facets of modern club music today. And yet, even with all these new commitments they still maintain that original Sunday night party at the Eagle. They might have the occasional stand in when they are all away on different DJ assignments, like their upcoming Pride weekend showcase in Camden’s roundhouse, but they remain the driving force behind the night and continue to draw new audiences to Horse Meat Disco on the prowess of their skills in the booth. We’ve been doing it for so long, that ”it all just kind of falls into place,” says James and that place is enshrined in club legend today. 

An intense kind of feeling: The story of Skansen by g-HA & Olle Abstract

g-HA & Olle Abstract recount the story of  Skansen (public relax) and the legacy that it left on House music in and beyond Norway. It’s the story of Skansen in their words.

Skansen has left an indelible mark on Oslo’s nightlife and club culture. The space where the club used to stand is hallowed ground today and any other club that has tried to open in its place has had to live in the shadow of its monumental legacy. Skansen has played an integral part in putting Oslo’s House music scene on the map as well as exporting the sound of Norwegian House to the wider world. 

Resident DJs, g-HA and Olle Abstract alongside guests like Erot and the Idjut Boys redefined the sound of House in the region through the club as something loose and flowing, a kind of skrangle House, that has seen a scene and whole generation of artists and DJs grow up alongside it. 

In Oslo Skansen’s legacy has been installed as one of the most significant places and eras of House music in Norway and on an international scene, it’s still talked about in reverend tones. Skansen saw the world of House music descend on Oslo at the height of the genre’s popularity and the DJs, clientele and residents that passed through its doors, can still be found working in Oslo’s nightlife and music scene. 

As residents of the famous club, g-HA and Olle Abstract had played a hand in establishing a sound and a cultish legacy in Skansen; one that continues to exist in lore, and has helped establish House music in Oslo, and in some way Norway. Both are still significant figures in Norway’s DJing- and clubbing community. They continue to spread the gospel of House music in the scene, often at Jaeger while g-HA’s Skansen mix for Glasgow Underground continues to live on as a testament to the iconic sound of the time and the place.

Who better to relay the story of Skansen and this important era of House music in Norway. This is the story of Skansen as told by g-HA & Olle Abstract.

Geir and Olle DJing at Skansen

Olle Abstract: Geir and I met for the first time in ‘89 in a record store where Omar V used to work.

g-HA: In the subway station in Grønland.

O: This is the record store that would become Platekompaniet. They were always good at bringing in people that were interested in imported records. We would then bump into each other, buying records in stores like these with people like DJ Tony Anthem (Future Prophecies) also in the mix.  

g: I also used to hang out with Olle’s old roommate at their place, and I’d sneak into Olle’s room to play your records while he was away. He would get so pissed off about it. 

O: They used to play my records while I was playing at raves. I was  involved in (XS) to the rave zone, and euphoria back when Geir was still starting out as a 16 year old DJ at Marilyn (where Jaeger is today). We would all hang out together and go to Marilyn to look at the wet t-shirt show while Geir DJ’d. Then we would run back to good music at some of Oslo’s other clubs…  Geir was quite commercial back then. 

g: You had to be commercial down at Marilyn. The owner would check the VG liste every week for the latest pop charts, and you had to have those tracks. One week I didn’t have a track from the list and he fired me. 

O: Geir got involved with Matti from kings and queens after that in ‘92. The scene, the one we were involved in, it all starts around Kings and Queens. In ‘92 before the other clubs started, you had Marilyn and you had two more commercial places. 

The only place to listen to underground house music for a while was Enka, which is now Villa. Suddenly there were 100-150 people coming into Enka to listen to House music and then the scene just exploded. 

After Marilyn, Geir got a residency at Pure. It was a big club in storgate run by Yugoslavian gangsters. People like Tony De Vit  played there and they even got Geir a flat that was soundproof. 

g: Yeah with long halls with many doors  and a double shower. 

O: It was like a brothel… Geir broke Ace of Base and Faithless in Oslo at Pure, in fact he was the first DJ in Norway to play Insomnia. People took notice and eventually he teamed up with Matti from Kings and Queens, doing all these raves around town, while I was doing (XS) to the rave zone. 

This was between ‘92 – ‘94. Then Geir got picked up by Per Haave and Cecilie Hafstad  in ‘95 to help with the bookings at Skansen. 

g: Skansen was supposed to be an Internet café, but that never happened. It turned out to be  more fun doing a club.

O: It was basically a toilet that they refurbished and spent too much money on.

g: It was actually owned (and still is) by Oslo kommune who used it to store signs. Then I think Per got the idea to use the spot. 

O: The owners were a generation older than us. They were around for the first party scene in Oslo, back in 88/89. They would have been hanging out in Project in Lillestrøm when they came up with this plan for Skansen. The name Skansen actually came from an old restaurant that overlooked that hill. It was an art-deco building that was a really popular place after the war for like 20 years. They borrowed the name and called it “Skansen public relax” in the beginning  with a focus on being an Internet cafe. Then Geir came in and the computers were out. 

Picture of Skansen Restuarant

g: I kind of only helped out with the bookings in the beginning. 

O: At that point on a Friday night in Oslo, you had Headon, you had Pure, you had Christiania and one-offs on a Saturday that played House music….  then Skansen came along. 

By the time I first started there in march ‘96, it was a full blown club space and one of the few places you could hear House music. Geir had been Djing there for a few months already, and opened up the possibilities with his Footfood night on Fridays which was all about House. 

 g: I remember Paper recordings, classic records and that kind of stuff. I remember getting 10 promo records a week and playing a bit more of an English kind of club music at that point. I would take trips to London if I had a free weekend. I’d go on the first flight and come back in the evening after visiting a few of my favourite record stores.

O: Major labels were putting out House remixes on 12”. But it was the same period as Moodyman’s earliest KDJ stuff. We played a lot of that kind of stuff and the obscure British stuff that was influenced by Detroit and Disco. It was anything from Cleveland City to early Paper Recordings. There was also the whole disco end of it with London and Idjut Boys. I guess Geir wanted to play deeper in Skansen than at Pure and it started developing this sound as a club.

g: I can’t remember how long it was an Internet cafe before it eventually became a club. 

O: That was like four months. Geir talked about it in the autumn and by January it was a club and that’s when he asked me to do the Thursday nights. He wanted me to do something different than Footfood and I had already started to jam a bit with Bugge Wesseltoft at Christiania at that point, so it was natural to bring in musicians on Thursday night. The night was called SuperReal.

g: Everybody started hanging out there from the start. 

O:  Geir and Omar V were the first residents and after a while I brought along Truls and Robin. Torbjørn Brundtland from Røyksopp used to be there all the time before they moved to Bergen. Even Fardin (Faramarzi) was involved in the beginning. He was on the door primarily, but he would also DJ from time to time. 

g: And Per Martinsen (Mental Overdrive). Besides DJs like these, we also started booking foreign DJs almost straight away.

O: We booked the Paper Recordings guys early on, Kenny Hawkes and Luke Solomun. Then I met the Idjut Boys at Bar Rumba in London. People started talking, a community of DJs across Europe. We got to know Jori Hulkkonen, Jesper Dahlbeck and Stephan Grieder from Svek.

g: They would’ve just taken the bus from Sweden. I remember it was a really really big thing at that time, because Svek was really hot, and later they would licence one of their songs to the Glasgow underground mix I made, they’d never done that before. 

O: At that time most DJs from England were like 200/300 GBP. I mean we did a lot of swaps, so people wanted to come to Geir’s club and Geir got invited back to England, and the same with me. It was all by telephone or fax and quite a few of these people I met in record stores in London like Atlas, Vinyl junkies and Black market. 

By the summer  of ‘96 there started to be a buzz and by the autumn of that year it was really picking up. We started getting 100 metre queues outside on most nights. 

The crowd was made up of older hippy-like free thinkers with a mix of the “It” crowd, like young photographers, creative people and dancers; your alternative club people. It might have looked the same if you went to Moscow or Italy at the time; a small club scene with cool individualists. 

g: We were just distributing flyers and word of mouth reached everybody. Even though it was an Internet cafe, ironically there was nothing online.

O: I also had a radio show on NRK from ‘93, when people still checked the radio for new music. It was a good time to be on the radio. Radio was mostly for people outside of Oslo; people in Oslo went out on Saturday nights, they didn’t sit at home and listen to the radio. After a while people came round from all over the country to check out Skansen. 

They adopted it quite well. It was such a small place that if you didn’t like it, you left,  because you had to be part of the party to have a good time. It wasn’t a place to stand in the corner to observe. 

g: It was a very intense kind of feeling.  

O: It was a small room and you were on top of each other.  A lot of the people made new friends there. 

g: It was a busy time for that end of Oslo too. Jazid was in Pilestredet and Headon was in rosenkrantz gate so there was this straight line going through them. 

O: There was basically 500m between the 3 main clubs in Oslo. Headon were doing more funk stuff. Jazzid was so much more trip-hop, downbeat drum n bass. So it was easy for Skansen to be more House based, and have a strict difference between these 3 venues. We had a kind of a deal in the beginning not to push each other. 

g: I played at both Jazid and Skansen for a while, when it was still ok to play House music at the first one. 

O: Geir had your Fridays and I had my Thursdays. Geir and Cecilie were taking care of Saturdays and then we had some weekends together where we were co-operating and bringing in guests. 

The bookings were still dominated by that sound in France, of motorbass, Étienne de Crécy, paper recordings, and Erik Rug. You had that London scene, And then you had that more high energy Chicago and New York type of House sound, which was run by Classic , but then you had a local sound too that started to get recognition abroad too.

Collage of Olle Asbtract and Guests at Skansen
g
: Yeah, that Erot and Bjørn Torkse sound, called Skrangle or whatever. 

O: Skrangle, means sloppy in a way, which is not strictly 4-4, but more sloppy. Bjørn or Erot basically in the way that they move and also play.

g: It was a term we used here in Norway, but it is not an internationally recognised word. 

O: We didn’t use that word at all back then. We could say that something was Skranglete if it wasn’t really accurate. We both came from sequenced music, which was not the case for Skansen, which was more open. 

g: The Idjut Boys stuff kind of encapsulated that mood. 

O: Meaning more dubs and echoes, and percussion that was off; a bit more live sounding. We weren’t really thinking about creating a sound or anything, we were in the middle of it.

Of course loads got influenced by it, with all these Jazz musicians coming in through Bugge and Niels Petter, and they all started doing electronic albums after being at Skansen for half a year. 

g: It was just something in the air at the time. The ones playing in the scenes we admired abroad, were also the same people we were booking so it felt very connected. 

O: We were basically all stroking each other’s backs and trying to make our way through the scene. I guess everybody was doing the same thing; whether it was Sheffield, London Stockholm or Paris and in Oslo it became this fluid thing between us and Bergen.

We had lots of contact  with Mikal Telle, and we knew all the players in Bergen, but mostly it was Bjørn, Erot and Kahuun. Erot actually played his first gig at Skansen

g: That was a legendary set. 

O: Annie was with Erot at the time and they slept on top of my records. They stayed  for a week, just eating spaghetti and ketchup. They didn’t have any money, I didn’t have any money, nobody had any money back then. 

Tore (Erot) was only just starting to make music. I actually met him at a rave in Drammen before and then Bjørn told me about him and then we brought him over.

It was one of my most memorable nights there, besides another with Omid 16B playing live. This was SuperReal’s first birthday and Omid was actually an act that fitted more into Footfood’s night. But since it was the birthday, we had Geir as part of the party. It was amazingly good. 

g: I can’t remember that specific night, there are just too many. 

O: There were some great nights with the Idjut Boys. Back then it was only vinyl and they went a lot to New York. They were a few years ahead of us when it came to weird, hard to find stuff. Also some mad nights with Simon Lee from Faze Action. 

This was at the height of Paper Recordings, when they would release a 12” every ten days and most of their tracks went into the top 20 of club charts in that time. They also released the Those Norwegians LP, Kaminsky Park in ‘97.

g: It was very kind of hot for a while with Ari B and an article in the face. For its popularity however during this time, it was kind of hanging in the air the whole time. Per and those people weren’t really that good with the paperwork. There was always something threatening the existence of the club, but they always kind of got it back on track. 

O: And then in ‘99 it just stopped.

G-HA & Olle Abstract today and the Skansen Mix CD cover
g
: I had just finished the Glasgow Underground Skansen mix, and it was just suddenly closed one day. It was a really big thing for me to do this mix when it came out. We were going to have this release party at Skansen, but it lost its licence on the same day. 

O: Then the indie rock scene took over from ten years of House and Techno in Oslo. Suddenly Hip Hop started being played in more venues. The years that followed from 2000 – 2003, you had to be more versatile as a DJ. I had to play so much different stuff to get gigs. Uptempo Hip-Hop, like Timbaland instrumentals and mix it with House. And then you had Mono and Baronsai coming up which had a different profile.

g: I actually moved Footfood to Baronsai. It was really hip to be around all the places in youngstorget so it was suddenly very far for people to go down to Skansen. We tried to re-open it, after that but it didn’t last very long. 

O: The main years for Skansen was early january ‘96  til late ‘99 with the same ownership. We were young as well. 

g: I mean, I was 23 in ‘96 when it had been open for a year. 

O: We were like kids. We felt like grown-ups, like we were important. 

g: But, we weren’t so grown up.

O: I made loads of friends. Loads of us got bigger through Skansen.

g: There was a generation that disappeared with Skansen

O: It was the first experience for quite a few.  It was magic for that period of time, it’s always hard to recreate something like that. Most of the people that went out at that time were 28 by 2000 and moved on in their life, most of them except for us and a few others (laughs). Everyone that tried to be there after that tried to make their version of it.

g: Nothing has really worked though. It is so difficult to do something else down there because everybody will always want to compare it to Skansen and that time and era in club music in Oslo. 

 

Profile: 100% Galcher Lustwerk

Over the past few years, a handful artists in America have begun to reclaim House music for the next generation. Artists like Galcher Lustwerk, Byron the Aquarius and Channel Tres, have used House music as a more inclusive platform in a new wave of the genre that might see it return to a time at the height of its popularity. Elements of Jazz  Soul, Hip-Hop and Funk form a bedrock from which modern composers weave their unique and esoteric musical language. 

From Byron the Aquarius’ jazzified Rhodes incantations to Channel Tres’ crossover rap-vocal appeal, there is no singular sound or scene that unites these artists, only an intangible vibe. It sounds like New York, Chicago and LA in the of breezy attitude that underpins it and colours outside the predetermined lines that have defined the genre for some time. It breathed new life into a House movement that has been caught in the deep end for far too long.

*Galcher Lustwerk performs live this  Friday at Jaeger.

*tickets available 

In many ways Galcher Lustwerk paved the way for this trend or phase in House music with his seminal mixtape “100%” back in 2013. He completely broke with the entrenched sound of Deep House, largely informed by Europe, for a sound that was more free and dynamic. Infusing that sound with vocals that would be more at home with Trap than House, it was a completely new and inventive approach. Following this debut release with a predominantly LP-based discography, Galcher Lustwerk’s music stayed the course through another 2 albums before it reached the archives of Ghostly International to cement Galcher Lustwerk’s music beyond his own Lustwerk music imprint and White Material affiliations.

“Information” saw Galcher Lustwerk reach the next sphere in House music’s institutions. He hardly needed the validation of a flagship label like Ghostly however, but “Information” impressed nonetheless, building on that momentum from “100%” and catching the ear of a wider audience. Amongst those that heard his work was Azealia Banks, with Galcher Luswerk claiming a production credit for 2021’s “F**k Him All Night” from the controversial pop icon. There’s certainly a kindred spirit in those two artists’ approach to music, as they reappropriate elements of Hip Hop into House and vice versa, but where Banks’ work favours the crossover into the limelight, Lustwerk’s music stays the course in the shadows of House music’s counter-cultural roots.

Much like the man, his music is an enigma. Galcher Lustwerk moves like a fog through sound, with lush pads and woolly rhythms ebbing on a swell. At times, you have to turn up your collar against the cold indifferent breeze that floats through his work, but it retains an intriguing human quality, like a Tom Clancy novel’s mood captured in the album format. His vocal drifts like a morning mist across lichen marshes, revealing peaks of reality through an opaque abstractionism. It’s a sound he’s cultivated from that first mixtape, and through the albums and EPs that followed it’s something that has remained central to his work. 

Yet, Galcher Lustwerk’s origins are as elusive as the feeling you get from listening to his records. It seemed that he arrived with his debut mixtape, fully formed and developed as an artist. The man behind the work, Chris Sherron, was largely unknown before Galcher Lustwerk, but the production on “100%” is not that of a novice. 

Sherron grew up in Cleveland. Talking to Bolting Bits, he called it “a fine city” and its influence on his adolescent years made him a “more creative” individual. “There isn’t very much youth culture or arts culture compared to other cities,” he claimed ”so if you’re interested in that type of thing like I was – you had to pursue it at all costs and do a lot of things alone or in a cultural vacuum.” He had some basic grounding in music, playing the sax at school, but a “lame as fuck” Teacher who would wear piano ties and listen to Deep Purple in his PT cruiser (much like a character in a Galcher Lustwerk song), had quickly put the young Sherron off a formal musical education. 

Seemingly that set him on a path to electronic music: “I would say the biggest influence for me is Underworld,” Sherron told Reverb. “I was really into the ‘electronica’ stuff, so anything like the Chemical Brothers or Underworld, the Prodigy, Groove Armada,” which would put Sherron around his teens in the mid nineties. 

Among some of the other influences he also mentions indie rock, but on more than one occasion in interviews, he would recall that “hip-hop music was out of my grasp at the time.” As a “sheltered kid” growing up in the Midwest, the music was largely prohibited at home “because a lot of the rap music had parental advisory [stickers],” he elucidated on Fader in 2018. “I looked at other black music that didn’t. I gravitated towards Massive Attack and Tricky and the British stuff like drum and bass. That was the stuff I was super psyched on and wondering like, ‘Damn, how do they make those sounds?’ and wanting to learn about production.” 

He taught himself how to use the sample-based music software Fruity Loops, which set him on a road towards production, but there’s a huge gap in his biography between then and Glacher Lustwerk. At some point he moved to Rhode Island to study at the famous school of design, and it’s there he seemed to fall into a musical crowd. “I caught the last hurrah of the scene,” he told Spex magazine, but it’s there where he met the other White Material co-founders, DJ Richard and Young Male; a significant twist in the plot towards Galcher Lustwerk. “At the time there, it wasn’t really about quality but intensity, how intense you could be,” remembers Sherron of that scene.

White Material’s debut self-titled EP reflects some of that intensity. It’s fast-paced House music with a Lo-Fi attitude, but a considered sound palette. The sounds aren’t brash or harsh, but you get the sense that they are quickly assembled, the impatience of youth reflected on the serrated resonances of a sawtooth wave. White Material shares some similarities to labels like L.I.E.S, aligning with that DIY New York sound; that is until you get to the last track on the record. At first “Put On” sounds like much of the rest of the record, and then Glacher Lustwerk’s gruff vocal appears through the ratcheting rhythms and misty keys. It’s a track that sounds almost at odds with the rest of the record now and it’s only when we hear it again in Galcher Lustwerk’s debut mixtape, that things fall into place. 

White Material came out around the same time as his “100% Galcher,” but  “Put On” sounds more at home on the longer format than the EP. The mixtape saw Sherron establish Galcher Lustwerk as an artist right from the start and showed a side to House music that we’ve not really experienced in the past. While R&B- or Gospel vocals were no stranger to chart-topping House music, Galcher Lustwerk’s trap-like raps on this kind of “underground” House music was a new phenomenon. It captured the zeitgeist of a contemporary streaming society and resonated with a new kind of audience that were broadening the borders of clubspaces and club music. It had crossover appeal, but Sherron’s affiliation with a more underground scene thwarted any attempts at the mainstream.

“100% Galcher” and the first White Material release wasn’t exactly an anomaly, and indicated more to something in the winds of change, but by the time Galcher Lustwerk’s official debut Dark Bliss came out in 2017, he had played a significant part in establishing a particular sound on to its own and one that certainly would have influenced an artist like Channel Tres, whose Hollywood approximation would take it to a more accesible realm.

“I believe I may have set some sort of trend and now people in other music spheres are making similar music,” Sherron admits in Bolting Bits around the time “Dark Bliss” came out. While people started rapping over House beats and Hip-Hop started making more of an impression on House music at that time, Galcher Lustwerk was different and something more considered. It was a more natural infusion of these two spheres, and came down to his skills as producer. This wasn’t some pre-paid beat or a rhythm section shoehorned into an existing vocal, it was a fully-formed concept. “I want my music to feel luxurious,” he explained. There’s a softness in his sounds and the sense of space he creates in his productions offer an inviting sonic meadow for the listener. Kick drums loop in the background, almost always immersed in a cloud of pads, repeating like a mantra towards hedonistic escape, while a vocal sails through the arrangement. 

In the production itself, Glacier Lustwerk isn’t necessarily groundbreaking nor exceptionally unique as a well-ingrained style Deep House. But that changes with his vocal. We don’t know much about how he arrived at incorporating vocals to his music and when asked about his rap influences, he’s often cagey, but we do know how he came to his unique lyrical style. “My friend Alvin Aronson, who is also on White Material [Records], was like, ‘You need to make your vocals like less literal,’” he recounted in Fader. “Ever since then I kind of veered off into trying to get almost as absurd as I can; not absurd in a stupid way, but just as stream of consciousness.”

The “stream of consciousness” can take surprising and very obscure turns. He can go from making love songs about music software templates to repeating a phrase or word into infinity, to a point where it comes apart, devoid of all meaning, or re-purposed and re-defined.

It’s best appreciated in the album format, where these lyrics take on a narrative like a Charlie Kaufman script. On his latest “Information” it moves through some specific themes in what we can only assume is personal experiences of a working DJ. It’s “about learning to move in a certain way through a world that parties, a hedonistic world” he told Fader, and he truly immerses you in that world, as drug references are re-established in mirror images and  modern life reaffirmed in restrained music.

“I think it’s just a nice chunk of time to be immersed into a world,” said Sherron of his preference for the album format in Reverb, and “Information” is probably his best effort yet in the longer format. Whereas “Dark Bliss” and “200%” carried that same inclusive approach to the first mixtape, where it becomes a collection of songs, “Information” comes together in a more cohesive sense with a record that flows between peaks and troughs of energy. “It made sense to have some more slow songs in there as interludes,” he told Spex and it makes for an album that retains the attention. 

It might also suggest that Sherron is starting to explore new territories in his music. “I’ve been making more downtempo stuff anyway,” he confirms in that same interview. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m clubbing less, or just getting old,” he stresses, but it might also indicate an evolution in his work. It feels like he’s thoroughly established the sound of Galcher Lustwerk and it might be time to take it to that next step.  

 

Solo Super with Frantzvaag

By the time Mats Frantzvaag stepped out of the booth at Jaeger after his 2019 Boiler Room set, he had the crowd in a frenzy. People were literally hanging off him, hugging and high-fiving Mats as he made his way out of the basement and into the open air. He’d stirred the dance floor appropriately, laying the foundation for the night ahead with a punchy and effervescent House set that saw the dance floor swell in anticipation and excitement for the young Norwegian producer and DJ.

As Frantzvaag he had already released a couple of EPs on Smallville’s Fuck Reality imprint at that point, but in Norway he was still something of an unknown entity;  a record producer with more notoriety outside of the country than in it. That Boiler Room night had all the hallmarks of a pivotal moment for Frantzvaag. Building on those first two records, the event only cemented our belief in this young artist, as a producer with some serious skills as a DJ.

Mats could have easily taken that momentum and channeled it into a string of EPs or singles to install the name Frantzvaag on the scene. Instead, he bided his time. He was not one to succumb to the hype, but rather took his time to cultivate his craft further. When I first interviewed Mats back around the release of his first EP, there was no doubt that he would eventually be a notable figure on Oslo’s scene with an international following, but he has been in no rush to get there. He DJs when he wants to –“if something cool crops up, not the ones I think I should do for money” – and he hasn’t released anything since 2018’s Fuck Reality 5.

He’s focus has been elsewhere. While he’s had enough material to release at least an EP a year, since, he’s ultimate objective over the course of these last 4 years has solidified around Frantzvaag’s debut in the LP. In yet another watermark in this artist’s young career, Solo Super is only Frantzvaag’s fourth release and its an album. It arrived at Easter, “a happy coincidence” according to Mats with a title that conveys some of that dry sense of Norwegian humour and the inherent sense of fun that remains at the core of House music’s purpose.

Solo Super is a House record that thwarts the obvious tropes that dog House music LPs; strengthening allegiances with the dance floor while at the same time stepping away from the functionalist loop-driven patterns. There’s an album there, something you could put on at home, without having to skip the obvious ambient track, and yet you could slip almost any track into a set, without missing a beat. There’s something entirely refreshing about Solo Super (pun intended) as you drift through the charged progressions. A layer of sonic dust covers everything in a warm and embracing atmosphere, while rhythm patterns strike an impulsive chord.

Depth and consideration follows the record through its nine tracks, and from Mats’ early Hip Hop influences to the passage of time that has passed through this record there’s a lot more to consider beyond the superficial nature of a House record. I sat down with Mats at Baklengs, an Oslo record store he runs with a few others, and over a conversation and an email, we tried to unpack the infectious charm of Solo Super.


 

Solo Super is available at Baklengs today.

What was the transition like going over from those two EPs into an LP?

It happened very naturally really. I did the two EPs and then I just kept sending him (Julius Steinhoff) tracks to choose from, and in the end was like, let’s go with these nine. It’s been in the books for a few years actually.

So you were working towards an LP, but not necessarily making the tracks with the thought of making an LP?

 Not really, no.

Did the tracks on the LP overlap with the stuff you were making for the EPs?

 Some  of them. You can see some of the oldest tracks from the album were made in 2016. So that’s around the time when the first EP came out. I gradually added some stuff and removed some stuff.

And a theme emerged as you tried to bring tracks together that would fit amongst each other?

 Yes.

That’s interesting, because one of my initial thoughts when hearing the LP was that this sound a little bit different from the EPs, but I guess that would just be me inferring something that isn’t there?

Yes, but once I knew that the album was about to come, I made some tracks with that in mind also. The last track on the album for instance, is something that I thought we were missing. So it’s a gradual thing that evolved, rather than me sitting down to make an album.

It’s obviously a House record, but I would suggest that it’s perhaps not as focussed on the dance floor as a functional 12”.

 Yes, so it’s basically me and Julius coming up with the track listing.

As you were coming up with the tracklisting, what were you looking for the tracks to make up the LP, and how would it have differed from the EPs?

I put more emphasis on finding tracks that represent different styles and moods than what I would normally do on an EP. More tracks = more chances to showcase different aspects of what I make. Moreover, I wanted the album to make sense and be interesting when listening through the whole thing, both in terms of which tracks were included and the order that they´re in.

Are you hoping this record will be finding its way into DJ record bags?

 That’s also something I hope, at least some of the singles. I think it’s a nice thing to listen to throughout as well. I remember putting together the track list, and I was spending a lot of time going on long walks and listening to the tracks all the way through to see if it made any sense.

Did your approach to making music change at all throughout the period in which these songs were made?

The first EP it’s very sample-based, but on this there is a variation, because some of the tracks were made in the studio across the road, where I had access to more equipment.

I thought I could hear more analogue sounding synthesisers in the LP, than perhaps from the EPs.

Few of them are actual synthesisers and the rest of them are more me trying to process these sounds in a certain way.

There’s a very organic sound to the LP throughout. Is that from the samples or do you actively try to create that feeling somehow?

Some of the tracks don’t have that many samples either. It’s both that or it’s something I try to achieve, either through the use of samples or the method of processing the sounds.

Why was this the right time for an LP, because it sounds like you could have had a few more EPs out of this one record by the sounds of it?

 It was more about having this one product that is more cohesive and shows the depth of what I can make. It’s more like a standpoint.

Was this mainly your idea or did Julius push towards making an LP?

 It was a common goal, I think. We started talking about it when he was in Norway in 2018. Then it gradually appeared.

Besides that one Full Pupp record, you pretty much stayed with Smallville. It must be pretty conducive for your work.

Yes, I think so. I really like the aesthetics of the label, and they are really cool people. I haven’t put out that much really. I’ve been waiting to do this bigger project and see where it goes from there.

I was reading this interview with Joy O, about how he refrained from calling his last full-length an album, but rather a mixtape, because there is a bit of stigma around House albums. Do you think that is true?

 Could be. But if you listen to my album, the tracks stand out for themselves as EPs too. So it’s more like a collection of tracks than a cohesive story, told through nine tracks made in a very short period. This is a collection of tracks that fit really well together.

It is definitely not the usual House album, with the two ambient tracks and a pop hopeful single with vocals. Every track is very much a dance food track on this.

That can get a bit uninspiring as well, when you force in an ambient track just to be there.

One thing that I noticed a lot on the record, is that there is a lot of dub stuff happening in the background.

 I really like that. A lot of my tracks are very heavy on low pass filters and have stuff a bit muffled. So it doesn’t stand out that much, but it’s still there creating some kind of atmosphere.

Were there any specific influences or listening habits that informed this?

There is so much. I listen to a lot of dub and reggae at the shop and at home and all kinds of electronic stuff. What I listen to is usually not that similar to what I make.

And the Hip Hop Influence is still there. Everything from the sampling to the dusty feel of the entire record. Is this something that you have to consciously apply to your work?

It happens naturally actually. It’s just become part of how I make music, I usually just sit there and try to make this loop sound interesting, putting textures behind it.

Well that’s something else about this record, it’s not just loops.

 No, but it starts out like that.

There’s a lot more progression through the tracks, and am I detecting more of a melodic element to these tracks compared to the EPs?

Yes, probably some of them.

Like Blommenholm. Was that one of the tracks that came after most of the LP was made?

Yes. That is also one of the few tracks that is a little bit slower and has a different vibe.

What do you look for in sounds when making music, because there’s not that 808-juno combination that dominates most of House music still?

 They should stand out in some way and they should have some feeling to them. It’s not just a straight 808 drum; I’ll try and process it or use a sound that has some character. I usually layer quite a lot and try to make my own sounds.

How much input does Julius or the label have, when it comes to these production touches?

The only input he might have is about the length of a track to fit into the album, but nothing really on the production side. At the point of sending something away, I’ve already mixed it and done all of it. In my head it’s a finished product. It’s more that I send tracks to friends.

Like who, people involved in the industry?

Not really. Some childhood friends that are also into making music. I send it to Hacir (Payan) of course sometimes

He must have opinions?

 He has opinions and often good ones.

Tell us a little more about the influence of the shop. At the time of your first interview with us, you were already talking about how the shop was having an affect on you.

 Then I was only starting to get involved, and since then the shop has grown into more of a community. It’s a really nice place. Everytime I’m here I get exposed to so much music that I wouldn’t hear otherwise. Also you meet so many people and discuss music, so it’s a super big influence, I would say.

Was there anything that didn’t make it on the album that you would’ve liked to have on the LP?

 There is always stuff, but that’s more recent stuff that didn’t really fit in with the rest of the album.

Do you think you’ll have another LP worth of tracks soon?

Could be…

Would there be a similar approach to making this last album , or would you try to make something more concise?

Would be fun to do the more concise thing. I have no clear plans yet. I might do a few more EPs before then. 

 

 

In conversation: DELLA and Bomström

DELLA interviews Bomström, the first international guest to DELLAs Drivhus since 2019. They talk about Locus Soundsystem, classical music, Djing and keeping it koselig before they head to the sauna this Saturday.

DELLA: Hello there Mr. Bomström, I’m looking forward to sharing the booth with you this coming Saturday, it has been some time! Once upon a time you were a resident of Oslo, where are you based now?

Bomström: Hello there Kristina, Likewise –  yeah, it’s been a way too long time now. But finally even Swedes are welcome in Norway. I’m super stoked about getting back to Oslo, to Jaeger,  and seeing you again! Göteborg is my homebase. Best coast it is.

D: Ah, lovely Göteborg, one of my favourite European cities! An adorable seaside city filled with lovely cafes and pubs, vintage shopping, and culture. Each visit, I was there to play at some amazing underground party in secret locations, at a children’s puppet theatre or a giant warehouse in an old shipyard. And of course, the bouncing balloon bars (it’s legal!). Oh, you crazy Swedes. Tell us about your role in Göteborg and being the creator of these underground events.

How did it all start?

B: It started, some ten years ago, with this studio that I shared with a friend. It was way too big for being a music production studio / creative playground. But since it wasn’t really suitable to split up with further people, we decided to start throwing ug parties there instead. It was this intimate family thing, members only kind of events, off fb and all that. Since people seem to be into parties that are sold out, it quickly became popular. The main reason for that was because the venue was so tiny. But nobody noticed and the parties went on. Once a month. Damn, I’ve even seen the sweat dripping from the ceiling at one of these parties. And that was the start. From there on I started exploring the Gbg industrial areas and the beaches, searching for new locations in order to do bigger events. Eventually I started doing more and more co-labs with the Locus crew. Until one day, even if I did my own thing, people would still consider it a Locus party. It’s pretty weird huh. But we jacked the same kind of house, you know. So I got hijacked! Some five years ago I became a member of Locus Soundsystem.

D: What kind of events have you arranged?

B: Well, when I think of it, it seems I’ve done them all. The open air parties, warehouse parties, beach parties, forest parties, island parties, festivals, smaller club nights and big club nights. But since it sounds a bit odd to put it like that, it’s probably a better idea to mention something I haven’t done, and that is a big size festival.  I guess I will never do that either haha.

D: Tell us more about your musical journey, when did you begin djing and where has it led you?

BSince I was a kid I have always been into music, playing piano and church organ etc. I am a trained church musician actually. But I injured my arms because I was rocking the piano too hard (true story). So I had to figure out a new way to express myself as an artist. I got into fine arts and stuff and during those years I found the electronic scene. Now, as I think back, I figure it must have been because of the frequent use of keys in electronic music, that I got hooked in the first place. I always loved soul and jazz, as well as hiphop etc. But generally I think that electronic has more similarities with classical music – when it comes to harmonies. They’re pretty basic after all. You don’t need to know all these super complicated chords and scales, that jazz music, for example, is entirely built upon. Being a fan, going to raves and stuff, I stumbled into these two ladies in Oslo, Della and Vibeke (former No Dial Tone), who took me under their wings and brought me into the Oslo scene. I remember you guys booked me to play at The Villa. It was my second gig. So, yeah – thanks a lot for believing in me back then!

During the years, since then, I have been traveling around djing at clubs and festivals around the nordic, as well as in many european countries.   

DYou are currently a resident of Locus Soundsystem, who / what is this?

BLocus Soundsystem is a dj collective and the longest running concept for underground deep house music up in the north. We have thrown our club night at Pustervik for some 22 years now. But we are also infamous in Gbg for our secret NYE celebrations, as well as for the occasional activities in shady industrial areas. But our style of music is perhaps better suitable for beaches. At least we tend to think so. But maybe it’s just that we prefer breathing fresh air, who knows.

DI know that you are classically trained in music, can you tell us more on this?

BYeah, my parents listened a lot to classical music. Both my parents and my sisters always played the piano. So what the heck, I thought. It didn’t take long before all I was doing was playing the piano and I even went to the music academy. Until I played so much I injured my arms. I had to quit just like that and start thinking of something else for a career. That’s the short version of the story. I have no problem playing the piano now. But I am currently expressing myself in a slightly different way as a musician, and it’s all fine with me. And the classical music scene, well – I guess there was more rock and roll in my veins so to say.  I mean – imagine me in a tuxedo?

D: Primarily, you are a DJ, but production is something you are devoting more time to. What are you currently working on?

BAt the moment I’m into many different genres. Because I have this idea that I can achieve a lot from trying out a style I have never been into before. Even the kind of music I don’t listen to myself. Because doing that pushes me into new workarounds. Into playing around with new techniques, instruments, effects, melodies, chords and samples, etc. But since I am not into that style of music, I will never do it entirely “correctly”, right. This has got me thinking I might eventually come up with something unique. I don’t know if I’m right. But it certainly is lots of fun. I am currently working on my first album. But I’ve always been a huge fan of hip hop. So I’ve been producing beats for some good friends of mine who are very talented rappers. And! Believe it or not – I’m working on some house music too!

DNow that we are finally seeing the light from the end of these strange 2 years we’ve been living, summer plans? Gigs, festivals, or planning events?

B: We have this summer club at Nefertiti in Gbg called Locus 2.0 premiering next week (30.5). Then we always have a lot of secret open air events going on during the summer, as I mentioned before. Another good one is the special gathering that will take place in the end of the summer, in a village up north. It’s called Tillvaron. When it comes to gigs abroad I am looking forward to joining the Rehab crew in Naples and hopefully I will make it back to Berlin also this summer.

D: This will be your first time joining us at Jaeger, what will you be playing?

BHouse

D: Anything else you’d like to share with our readers?

B: During my years in Oslo I always wondered how you guys could always be so goddamn happy all the time. Then I noticed you always tend to say “det er koselig” no matter what is going on. Everything is so koselig. At the doctor – it is koselig. At the car mechanic – it is koselig. In the middle of a riot – it is koselig. I always thought for myself, as a depressed Swede, that it just cannot be koselig at all at the police station. I never went to a Norwegian police station, so what do I know. But at least it shouldn’t be, right? But now that I have grown older and as I am about to head back to Oslo, I finally figured you guys out. You were right. It is koselig. Pretty damn koselig, in fact. Oslo – jeg gleder meg!

 

Della’s Drivhus is a concept dedicated to the root of dance music, the tribal drum, and the vibration that syncs with the heart. As my first int’l guest since 2019, I welcome you. Saturday is going to be a galactic evening! 

Soundcloud:

Blawan: through the tracks

The essential Blawan listening experience from “Fram” to “Blika.” 

For little over a decade Blawan has been at the forefront of a definitive shift in the sound of Techno as one of the new vanguard of the genre. An intuitive approach to rhythm and sound, he has been the harbinger of a new futuristic ideology for the dance floor that has seen his star rise alongside a rising trend in the genre. 

Although Blawan came through during a wave of “future” genres out of the post-dubstep era in the UK, he is now firmly installed amongst the Techno elite both as a DJ and a producer. From the first provocative rhythms of Fram to his latest contribution to the XL catalogue, Blawan has delivered an idiosyncratic sound throughout a career that has evolved through a revolution of electronic music destined for the dance floor. 

With a visit to our basement in the near future, we delved through the enigmatic producer’s vast discography in an effort to investigate the continuous appeal and ingenuity of the artist and producer. 

Advance tickets to Blawan here. 

 

Fram (Hessel Audio)

This is the one that grabbed everybody’s attention. Fram and its sister track Iddy not only cemented Blawan in the aftermath of UK’s dubstep explosion, but also established the burgeoning Hessel Audio label. Hessel would eventually become a future tastemaker for the more progressive end of electronic club music as Blawan would move into the realm of punishing Techno.

Fram is one of those tracks and Blawan is one of those artists that came about at the end of the hype of Dubstep. The track is a testament to that era and the innovative forms of music coming out of London at that time at places like plastic people. The polyrhythmic percussion and alien sound sculptures didn’t sound like anything on the dance floor at that time. Moving to electronic music from behind a set of drums, you can hear Blawan’s inherent mastery of the rhythmic form in Fram. Between drum machines, and some live percussion, there’s an expressive approach that gave his largely machine music a human feel. 

“A twitchy but muscular number bristling with hollowed out, ligneous beat,” John Doran from the Quietus described it. It veered on the abstract electronica realm, but fell well clear of the experimental as sound systems like that of Corsica Studios’ room 2 would attest at the time.

Building his tracks from the percussion up (a common theme in his music), Blawan created an intense and foreboding sound that conjured the mood of cinematic horror. “It’s funny,” Blawan told The Face in a recent interview, “every time I bring tracks from the studio, my partner says ​‘why are you always writing stuff that sounds like it’s in a horror film?’ And to be honest, I’ve no idea…” It’s something that’s congruent in Blawan’s approach to dance music and something of a trademark of the artist’s sound, even today.

 

What you do with what you have (R&S)

It wasn’t soon after Fram and Iddy that Blawan started to gain recognition in dance music circles. He stood out amongst his peers for his innovative approach, infusing elements from diverse sources one his way to establishing a Blawan sound. Today he might mostly be known for that kind of brutalist sonic signature that he reserves for his own Ternesc imprint, but on his way to establishing that signature Blawan sound he stopped off at R&S with a record that fell deep for the lysergic impulses of Acid. 

What you do with what you have is a snarling monster, bearing the grisly grimace of a 303 loop seemingly jutting out from the lacquer surface. Everything in this track has a percussive quality; from the drums to the galvanised plucks of the main melody. But it’s a vocal, repeating various snippets of the same sample at different pitch intervals, that lures the listener closer. 

“Yes. What I really want I guess is to add a human, emotional touch to the track… rather than getting super in someone’s face like I used to!” Blawan said at the time. The vocal sample comes from that now infamous Red Bull Music Academy lecture with Moodymann. The main line, “it ain’t what you got, it’s what you do with what you have” is not only great advice, it also seems to offer some clue to Blawan’s philosophy to his sonic identity. 

Blawan’s music doesn’t pander to the industry-approved sound palette. Although What you do with what you have is clearly an acid Techno record, there is more to the record than a couple of machines slugging it out. It builds on those reserved minimalist foundations of his early records, but it’s a sound that would be more at home at Berghain than at Plastic People. 

 

Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage (Hinge Finger)

By the time What you do with what you have was released, Blawan was already courting the big rooms, even though not quite fully inducted into them. He would be no stranger to Berlin’s dark and intimidating Techno lairs, but at same time could still be found playing more intimate venues in London. By the time this next track came out however, it would propel Blawan towards a level amongst Techno’s top tier.

Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage was huge! It came at a time when music blogs still had some sway in the world, and when DJs were still breaking records on the dance floor, sometimes up to a year before they were released. Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage managed to court both factions and had everybody in a frenzy before it came out. By the time the record eventually was released it was already sold out everywhere… and I’m not exaggerating – Even today the popularity of that record has waned little with copies going on discogs for a hefty €50 and up.

“I was surprised at how it took off. And it scared me as well, if I’m honest,” Blawan told the Quietus at the time. “It was a direction I didn’t want to go in.” It’s rumoured that it started life as a joke, but by the time Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage came out the level of success it achieved was nothing to scoff at. Blawan had arrived at the mainstage!

That dark, brooding architecture is not only behind the title of the record, but also in the atmosphere of this record. The vocal; titillating and intimidating, only bolstered that appeal, and if you were a fan of electronic music around 2012, you’d have to be living under a rock, if this track didn’t reach you at any point. Perhaps its appeal lay in the simplification of Blawan’s polyrhythmic nature, but it didn’t distract from Blawan’s otherworldly sonic signature. 

 

Talatone (Ternesc)

And just like that Blawan stopped releasing records. Directly after Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage, there came an hiatus in Blawan’s recording output. He left it on a high-note with that record. For those only arriving at his music however, it marked a career in its infancy and only left them hungry for more of the same, with his earlier records and their divergent sound hardly satiating the masses. 

Citing health issues, which included a trip under the surgeon’s knife, Blawan was forced to take a break from the scene and take stock of his life in music going forward. His appeal hardly waned during his time away as records like Why they hide… were coveted by the discogs mania speculating for the future. Blawan’s music refused to fizzle out in the background, and  by the time he did come back into the fray with a new record, a new label, and several new projects he didn’t just arrive back on the scene, but stamped a formidable mark on it with tracks like Talatone.

Talatone was the first cut from the first EP for his new label, Ternesc and it asserted Blawan’s return in a dominating and forceful Techno thriller. A more intimidating approach to sound design, Talatone is a functional monster that bears some comparisons to Why they hide… while foregoing that immediacy of the previous record. If Blawan was perhaps a Techno producer with associations on the wonkier spectrum of the genre before, Talatone picked no bones about being a Techno tool for any DJ with the stamina for this kind of music. 

Talatone, Ternersc and Blawan’s return came at a time when Techno’s momentum just started picking up again towards a moment in the present when it’s one of the most popular music genres in the world today. Unsurprisingly it propelled Blawan on that same trajectory where his name and music have become synonymous with the genre’s modern vanguard. 

 

As Bored Young Adults – Shy Dancers On Bungalowdorf Beach (Trilogy Tapes)

…and then for something completely different. This is Blawan on a divergent course again. Bored Young Adults is reportedly the alias he created for a style of music he made for home listening, but the one-time fooray into this realm is hardly easy-listening. Bored young adults arrived at a time of a massive creative spark for the artist it seems. The music he made between then and now has only strengthened the diversity of the artist’s sound. While his other side project with Pariah, Karenn was dedicated to peak time on a dark dance floor, Young bored Adults channelled those same formidable sounds towards after-hours and slower tempos. 

A slow chugging track, Shy Dancers On Bungalowdorf Beach taps into that downtempo balearic feel while harnessing that element of foreboding that Blawan applies to his work. Elements float and glisten on a sea of ebbing bass that showcases Blawan’s prowess as a sonic auteur. That mood he creates through his records are never stagnant; they move with the progression of the track, which comes to the fore on this slower track and the other tracks from this record. 

Judging from his shows with Pangea as Karenn and some snippets of interviews at the time,  Blawan almost certainly fell in the rabbit hole that is modular synthesisers, and it took those minimal percussive sounds he relied on in earlier records to a new dimension. His textures developed and grew into cinematic creations, but remained focussed on that rhythmic pursuit, underpinning the artist’s work.

It’s curious why Blawan has never revisited this alias. There’s a lot of potential locked in those grooves, that could certainly have made for an interesting LP. 

 

Tasser – from Wet will always dry (Ternesc)

Even though I’m of the opinion Bored Young Adults would’ve been a more intriguing LP project, Blawan’s eventual debut LP didn’t disappoint. It’s reminiscent of the classic Robert Hood LP, Minimal Nation in sonic character and in spirit. Not as bold as the EPs and the 12” from before, but retaining that elusive mood Blawan cultivates in his music, he channels it effortlessly into the domain of an album narrative while tracks like Tasser maintain that indestructible connection to the dance floor. 

Even indie chin-strokers Pitchfork couldn’t help sing the album’s praises enough. “Wet Will Always Dry isn’t an album that will rewire dance music or revolutionize modern electronics, but at its best it succeeds in pushing against the expectations of modern techno, bringing vulnerability, warmth, and oodles of enchanting noises to a musical genre whose pursuit of the future sometimes seems to have gotten lost in po-faced respect for the past.“

I tend to disagree that there’s no connection to the past here. That Detroit influence is strong here, and I would even argue tracks like Fram were perhaps even more futuristic. But that’s not the purpose of a Techno record in the long format. It’s something that needs to capture the feeling of going from a club to lying on your living room floor, ears still ringing and head still spinning as you decompress, and Wet will always dry achieves that.

There’s something engaging in the sonic palette that borders on the intellectual without getting too contemplative and introverted while at the same time there’s no mistaking it for anything other than club record. 

 

Blika 

While Blawan’s success hit stratospheric proportions there was something that eluded those records even as he found popularity amongst the larger audiences. Those early rhythms he thrived in  and what first drew us to Blawan as an artist, were starting to get subverted in the pursuit of Techno’s marching orders and familiar rhythm patterns.

Those polyrhythmic clatterings of tracks like Fram and Getting me Down (which actually deserves an honourable mention here) never quite truly found a place in the sonic world of Techno that Blawan cultivated since his return. 

That has changed again over the last few releases on Ternesc and especially over on Blika, Blawan’s induction into the XL recordings family. In the context of the records that immediately followed it namely Make a Goose and Soft Wahls, Woke Up right Handed marks a shift in the artist’s output again with a return to those enigmatic rhythmic patterns that earmarked his earlier music, fusing it with that unparalleled sound he’s cultivated over the last 7 years. 

“I’m trying to step away from spending one whole week making one modular patch,” he admitted in the quietus recently, and it seems to have taken him back to the more impulsive approach that dots his earliest creations.

Blika stutters and glides through the percussive realm as a tumultuous wave of noise and distortion crashes over each phrase. That sense of trepidation in his sonic texture seems stronger than ever as it limps through the progression, dragging menacing cantations through that harsh frequency band of human hearing. 

Does it suggest yet another new epoch in Blawan’s career as an artist? It’s perhaps not as clearly defined as that shift after his hiatus, but there’s something there that in world drowning Techno, sets it apart from the rest of the noise. It’s something that has shadowed Blawan’s career the entire way through; whatever he applies his craft to, has an innate ability to stand out from the backdrop of the Techno genre. 

 

Make something you want to hear with Christian Engh

The pieces have fallen into place for Christian Engh and his music recently. Over the last 3 releases he’s found a sonic identity that has seemingly eluded him in the past. Starting with his 2020 release Voltage and arriving at the Detache, a sound has coalesced around his work that has now been reaffirmed by the fourth edition to this series of records, Skywae. It’s a long way from the Italo sounds of his first split release, Kyllingsmak and even further still from his dalliance with Techno on 2017’s suburb Snurrbass EP. It’s not necessarily even in that comfort zone of the label Full Pupp’s sonic signature, and yet it signals an artist that has certainly found his comfort zone.

“I think you’re right,” nods Christian in agreement as he takes a sip of his beer in Jaeger’s  backyard on a cold, but sunny Saturday afternoon. It’s here where I first met Christian and it’s here, I still regularly bump into him on a night out on Jaeger’s dance floor. We share some stories of recent nights out in the backyard/gården which was largely empty on the day we met for this interview, save the furniture and one other patron. 

I had just listened to Skywae for the first time and I was unable to shake the nervous energy it’s relayed through its gritty kick drums and warm soul-stirring bass. There’s no particular earworm to hang on to, nor is there anything specific like a sound or a particular rhythmic structure that stands out, but there is a definite mood there. It’s something that touches on a nostalgic pulse from House music’s earliest vibrations, but it’s more than that. It’s bold and aggressive, but not in a brutish way and it comes together on a record that is just screaming to be played through a hefty sound system.

It’s “just the way it turned out,” says Christian, almost dismissively. Skywae is the latest in a series of records that has seen the artist cultivate a sound based on his earliest influences and finding form through the artist’s voice. It was all supposed to come out on one LP, but the pandemic and Full Pupp’s backlog of records prevented the album from coming together. Instead both label and artist opted to put the music out through a few EPs and together these EPs create a watershed moment in Christian Engh’s discography.

“I really want to make House music with that American sound,” explains Christian about this new phase in his music. “That’s what I grew up with.” He’s found a stride in this approach, and it turns out, it has resonated with a few influential tastemakers on the upper echelons of the scene too.

“I started to get some recognition from the producers and DJs I really look up to,” says Christian coyly, and he’s being modest. DJs like Cinthie and Honey Dijon have been getting behind his music for the last two years and through them Christian Engh has reached a larger audience. At the time of writing Ctairs has almost a 100 000 plays on Spotify thanks to a Honey Dijon playlist, and it’s given Christian the much-deserved credit that continues to compel him to make and release music. “Hearing something I made in a club and people dancing to it, that’s just so cool,” says Christian and it’s that which has driven him since he first started releasing his music.

He started merely “dabbling in electronic music” early on in his life, but he’d mostly avoided presenting his experiments to others. The chance to eventually release something at all was little more than a happy “coincidence” that came about being in the mix at the Full Pupp stable at a social level. 

Through a common friend he had been introduced to Magnus International and Magnus introduced him to Daniel “Blackbelt” Andersen, and the Full Pupp stalwarts became fast friends with Christian very quickly. “I started hanging out at Blå at their (Full Pupp) nights and got to know (Prins) Thomas after a while too,” continues Christian. He hadn’t played any of his music yet in their company, but as they became more familiar, Magnus, Daniel and Christian would “have some beers before going out” and eventually those turned into listening sessions where Christian “would show them what I had done.” During one such session Magnus latched onto what would become Kyllingsmak and after playing it to Thomas during a Full Pupp night at Blå, Christian’s fate was sealed. 

Witnessing the physical response of a dance floor reacting to something he made for the first time ”was such a rush,” for Christian and it sparked a desire to create more. 

Christian admits there’s a “huge difference” between those first few releases and the music he makes today. He explains it’s all down to the production. “I’ve learned a lot” and everything from Voltage up to now stands a testament to that. Consulting youtube and talking to Magnus and Daniel with some input from Prins Thomas, Christian believes that his productions have reached a point that even though “I still hear stuff that I’m not happy with, it’s not as severe.” 

There was an “a-ha moment that happened in the last two years” when he started to “learn how to use effects” and got more comfortable with aspects of compression and reverb in his work. He waves it off as “a technical thing,” of little interest for people outside music, but you don’t need to be an expert to hear the difference between those early releases and these latest ones. 

“I should have probably taught myself that years ago, but I just suck at being structured,” says Christian jokingly. For somebody that is only doing music as a “hobby” it’s never been a priority” to release records and there’s no reason why he should be so particular about his work, but I sense there’s a perfectionism behind it that has more intent than a mere hobby would. It had taken Christian ten years of making music without releasing anything and then another half decade to get to this point, but there seems to have been an inherent skill for the artform that’s been there since the first record. “I’ve been doing music for a long time,” admits Christian, “but not on the production side.”

He started to play the guitar after hearing Metallica’s …and Justice for All” as an 8 year old. “It was mind blowing,” and attempting to emulate his guitar heroes like James Hettfield and Kurt Cobain, he became quite adept at this instrument early on. His tastes evolved through death- and eventually black metal, which was a thing in Norway at the time 8or so we’re told). By the time he was 14, he had a record deal and was touring Europe and by 17, he had retired from the band and hung up the guitar, abandoning it almost completely…

“After that it’s all been electronic music,” says Christian and while he might still meet up with the people from that scene, “it’s not my interest anymore.” He’s convinced “electronic music has so much more going on.” He’d been courting these two seemingly contrasting worlds throughout his youth, and it seemed like electronic music eventually one him over.  

Yet there remains one constant between these two worlds today for Christian today and that connection is Fenris. “Fenris was a big part of my education,” insists Christian “and he still is.” The Darkthrone frontman is known for his expansive listening habits and that is something Christian has always had in common with him since his black metal days. “We started hanging out, because we were the only people in that scene that would listen to electronic music” and “it’s not exactly” the genesis of Christian’s appreciation for electronic music, “but it was there at the start.”

Even though he left the scene some years back, there are some things that he certainly carried over from that era and that world and not just his friendship with Fenris. One aspect of his music in particular that has survived the mortal coil of death metal,  is a philosophy to “make what you want to hear,” he says. Even as an adolescent guitarist with no formal training, this mantra has followed him, unwavering from one discipline to another. ”That’s my approach to House music as well,” he echoes. 

It’s embedded in his earliest memories of hearing the genre of music. Things like “the old DJ-Kicks stuff from the nineties, and the X-Mixes” is a familiar touchstone for Christian’s own influences. “That’s where it started. For instance, Kevin Saunderson’s X-Mix has this really nice combination between really rough drums and bass and super nice strings and other elements on top which are kind of futuristic – that’s my favourite kind of music,” explains Christian enthusiastically.

You can clearly hear those influences on Skywae more clearly today. The record and the three preceding it, is as much an homage to that era, as it is Christian finding his feet in that sound. It was there all along, it seems, he just needed the time and patience to develop it and now he’s confidently arrived at the point. He might still find fault in his music, nitpicking over details, but Skywae is an archetype of a classic House record if there ever was one, and one that can certainly stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of them. 

 

And now for something different with Switchdance

Marco Antão is still settling into his new digs in Kristiansand. The Portuguese-Goan producer and DJ is planning to spend half the year in Norway and the other in Lisbon for the foreseeable future and the last six months have kept him busy.  “I brought a lot of synths and I built my studio here,” says Marco over a telephone call from the house he shares with his girlfriend. He is enjoying the opportunity to “make music with an amazing view” and it’s already starting to bear creative fruit.

Prostaglandin E1 is the first track to have come from this new space. Made for a Portuguese compilation, the track is a moody tech track, built on minimal foundations with designs on the club floor. A female humanoid vocal works its way through the metallic sheen of the first few bars and into mystic dimensions carried on the melody of a harmonic scale. 

“The vocals are from my girlfriend,” Marco tells me in a kind of nonchalant way.  I pry for more details. “I was kind of stuck on the track with a deadline,” claims Marco and the track needed some extra elements, so he asked his girlfriend; “can you try some vocals?” The fortuitous impulse turned out to be the right choice, imposing a human imprint on Prostaglandin E1 that gives the track an accessible and sensory dimension. 

It’s the latest release in a decade-long career. It’s one side of the multifaceted DJ and artists sonic aesthetic which can move from the kosmische realm of downtempo Balearics to the energetic inclinations of a club floor. “I have my dark cosmic synth music side,” reiterates Marco only to contrast it with; “I’m a resident at Lux Frágil, so I have this fun club version of myself too.” These aspects converge on records and sets that have made Switchdance a household name in Portugal even in lieu of his associations with Lux Frágil. 

Switchdance has been a resident of the famous Lisbon nightclub for the last 12 years and his history with the club is a “long story” he claims. Nonetheless he indulges me. 

Marco had been a loyal patron of the club since he first started going out. He remembers waiting in “long queues outside of Lux” as an 18 and 19 year old during a period shortly after when the club was changing over from one instance into the next. Reinventing itself from Frágil, the “first gay-friendly House club in Lisbon in the 80’s” to Lux around 1998 it built on the legacy of one generation to the next as Marco came of age. 

“Around 2008” the club thought it was about time for a change again and “wanted a new resident.” Lux had “had the same residents since the beginning” according to Marco, and they were looking for some fresh blood to infuse the next phase of the club. Lux “held a contest” in which the winner would receive a six-month residency and 12 years later that winner, Switchdance, is still a resident.  

As a fixture of the club today, Marco likes to explore the more obscure sides of the dance floor. “Next Friday I’m playing with Vladimir Ivkovic,” he says by way of  an example. He offers a “more electronic and alternative” approach to the club music that dots the club’s roster and it’s something he is able to adapt that freely over Lux’s two floors. “If I play upstairs, I can play anything I want,” he says. This will include everything from “rock and David Bowie to club music and Italo disco.” In the club he can get “more introspective,” and play to a more engaged audience. “Downstairs is not a place to talk” after all. 

Listening back to a 2019 set from Switchdance recorded live “downstairs,” it seems that there is a certain freedom to the programming at Lux. The mix is slow and brooding with a melancholic mood underpinning the sounds of his selections. Marco looks back on the night and his set fondly. “I had the right crowd to play slow so it was one of my best nights,” he remembers. The packed dance floor, which can take up to a 1000 people was bristling form the first track and by the end of his set “everybody was dancing” reminisces Marco. 

“It was an amazing experience,” and it suggests something of the Lux audience’s attitude to electronic club music.  At the same time there is something in the contrast between the different styles that permeate through Lux that corresponds to Marco’s music. Turning back  time through Switchdance’s discography from Prostaglandin E1 to The Black Tape record, we find two distinct sounds emerging; one trained on the dance floor and one meandering on the fringes of club music. Is this the influence of Lux at work?

“I can’t say I’m 100% influenced,” replies Marco, “but I’m always imagining playing the tracks there.” His Lisbon-based studio is only 2 minutes down the road from the iconic nightclub and he will often go down to the club to test a track out on the sound system – which he claims bares striking similarity to Jaeger’s

At the heart of Switchdance’s sound as an artist however is not heightened club-informed sound like you might find a big room, but something more meditative; a sonic identity that is clouded in mystery and something almost mystic, born from a love of synthesis. “I’m addicted to synths,” says Marco who says; “all my money goes to synthesisers and red wine” in a breathy laugh. 

As a child of the eighties myself, I can understand the obsession. Growing up with the evocative sounds of the synthesisers in the background in your youth, that sound stays with you. In Marco it has only matured with him through the years as an artist and you can still hear its effects in his music.

“For example on The Black Tape, you can hear some 80’s italo influences,” explains Marco. Those early influences start with “listening to a lot of synth pop, like Depeche Mode.” Taking a slight detour through Goth as a teenager he came back to pure synthesiser music during “the boom of electro music in the early 2000’s.” Legowelt and the Dutch scene were a touchstone during that time, and you can still hear that influence clearly in Switchdance’s first appearance on Boiler Room back in 2013.

It marks an approach that is vast and open today as an artist, but centred around the synthesiser and moving far beyond the strict parameters of the preset menu. There’s something alien in Switchdance’s music that comes from the unusual sound palette he creates in his music. The nature of the vocals from Prostaglandin E1 is a great example as it moves from a kind of eerie android to digital automaton through the course of the track. It’s clearly processed through a vocoder, but not like anything you’re likely to have encountered before.

It’s a sound that has followed him since his early days, when he was still known by SWITCHST(d)ANCE. Through a very reserved release schedule it has evolved without drastically changing and today we find a definitive sound in the music of Switchdance.

In recent years this sound has even garnered a wider appeal with heavies like Harvey and Dixon getting behind the music of Switchdance through two compilations compiled by the DJ luminaries featuring the artist’s music. With Arabian Ride on Harvey’s Mercury Rising and O Amolador finding its way on Dixon’s Secret Weapons compilation for Innervisions, Switchdance has found favour with some of the DJ- and club community’s most respected tastemakers. 

It was specifically the Innervisions association that “was a huge kick” for Marco’s career with a “big buzz” around the track as it climbed the charts. It seems Dixon “really likes” Switchdance, but Marco stops short of mentioning any specific partnership with the popular label for the future. 

Now that Marco is spending six months of the year in Norway, he is rather striving to “connect with the scene” here. His familiarity with artists like Charlotte Bendiks, Skatebård and Lindstrøm as DJs he’s played with in Portugal has seen him make in-roads. Since moving, he has played Hærverk in Oslo and Vaktbua in Kristiansand and with an appearance at Jaeger next Friday, he is already making strides in Norway’s scene. 

He’s received very positive feedback from the crowd here with people commending his alternative approach to the dance floor. He feels he is still able to convey a lot of what he does at Lux Fragil to other audiences and in Norway he’s already found a receptive audience with people coming up to him to say “I never saw somebody playing this type of music here.” 

With set times being the only real constraint here, he’ll have to compress what he does through a night at Lux, but whatever it is, it’s sure to be different. 

You know what’s up with Anders Hajem

The history of dance music-collectives stretch as far back as the earliest days of club music. They’ve come in and out of vogue with the peaks and valleys of electronic music’s popularity. Few stand the test of time as egos emerge and personalities clash, but some are successful. They eventually form record labels, and while some members might eventually move on to greater things, it’s while standing on the shoulders of the collective and in rare cases it’s these individuals that strengthen the resolve of the collective as a unit as they rise up together.

I believe Boring Crew Records (BCR)  is such a collective and that Jens Wabø (Perkules), Henrik Villard and Anders Hajem are on the cusp of establishing BCR as a significant entry in the annals of collective history in dance music. A collective however is always better as the sum of its parts, and in BCR we have three producers and DJs that have found an uncanny kindred spirit. Each brings his own strengths to the collective, which in turn has offered the springboard for them all to succeed individually. Anders Hajem is no exception. 

A slew of releases on BCR under his given name and as Clastique as well as a release for Full Pupp has established Anders as the busiest producer in the BCR collective at this moment. In December he released his sixth record for the label, Kjoret Gaar Volume 1, which establishes a new series of releases with an objective crystallising on the dance floor around the 6 tracks. They’re “just raw and dancey tunes with no more thought put into it,” explains Anders about the concept of the mini LP. “The thought is to release more in the same style and I hope to get volume 2 up and running by the end of 2022, maybe with some remixes this time. The plan is to release Kjoret Gaar projects on bandcamp and let people pay what they want and hopefully we’ll be able to release it on vinyl at some point.”

Anders is pleasant and polite when we sit down for a chat. His thoughtful approach to music is counterpointed by a youthful exuberance that lies behind a tempered visage, under a peak cap. His release schedule is eager, but the music doesn’t sound rushed or impulsive. Rather there’s a maturity that belies his 26 years and his relatively recent introduction to club music. 

Anders grew up in Ål, a town “in the middle of nowhere,” in the centre of Norway. The town has “one music store where they sell guitars and other equipment” and with a father that “listened to a lot of deep Purple and Led Zeppelin,” Anders naturally gravitated towards the guitar as a “main instrument” from a young age. He cut his own path through the hairy world of rock, listening to modern day guitar heroes like “Arctic Monkeys and Queens of the Stone Age.” At a mere ten years of age, he started taking music at school and soon set about playing in bands around his hometown. 

The guitar shop “helped a lot for a small community” like Ål to establish something of a music scene, but electronic music remained a fleeting curiosity and an unknown entity for the young Anders. He had only been exposed to “the tip of the iceberg of electronic music” at home and it was mostly the kind of “cheesy” electronic music we associate with the radio today. “I had some friends that lived in Oslo and had gone to raves, but I never got into that when I lived in Ål,” he remembers. Those friends were mainly into Psytrance and Anders “just didn’t get it.“ It conflated his experience of club music and raves with people clad in loose fitting hemp and stomping along to triplet bass measures in a forest somewhere, but that was all set to change when he eventually moved to Oslo to study sound engineering. 

“When I moved to Oslo, that changed my perspective on electronic music,” says Anders in a serious monotone. He had already been listening to electronic music. The likes of Todd Terje and indie electronic acts like Rival Consoles had piqued his interest in electronic music, but that type of “dreamy synth electronic” music had never made it past the album format however and the club experience still eluded Anders for a time. Spurred on by Todd Terje and his new fascination for synthesisers, Anders eventually started going out in Oslo and it was the formative club experiences, “especially Villa and Jaeger,” where Anders became more “connected to that  kind of music.”

“Once I found out there were a lot of underground genres,” says Anders “it just opened up for me.” He dove deep, bought his first synthesiser and phased the bands out of his life. He realised “electronic music was easier to make on your own” and started making rudimentary synthesiser music.  His first attempts were little more than a drum machine and a single synthesiser as he tried to emulate the likes of Todd Terje and Boards of Canada. You can still hear some those influences in a newer track like 6AM.

He “dove deeper into electronic music and discovered Motorcity drum Ensemble, Gerd Jansen and Honey Dijon” through Boiler Room sets, but it was ultimately when he met Jens Wabø that everything would fall in place for his work as a producer and his skills as a DJ.

“We have a 5g connection,” says Anders through a grin. “Jens is one of those guys I just love playing with.” Anders had been getting into making House music, through Lo-Fi – “it sounded easier to make and not that polished” – but he had not yet gotten the hang of DJing by the time he met Jens. ”Jens was into Djing” however and after a crash course, Anders too “got the hang of it, and fell in love with it.” Once they were more comfortable playing together, they played their first gig at Villa and then the pandemic hit. 

Young enthusiasts like Jens and Anders were stopped dead in their tracks during what would be the prime of any producer and DJ’s career. They could’ve resigned their attempts to the bedroom studio and streaming DJ sets, but they proved to be more industrious than most. They shared a studio and when they weren’t making music, they were DJing.

“We were just hungry for more and started playing at the studio.” Anders then met up with the “rave kids” from back home, whose own tastes had matured beyond Psytrance and incorporated House and Techno too. “They joined and helped out a lot in reaching people” through their concept Rave at Bricks, and eventually those studio sessions grew into small parties that helped establish BCR. 

More “friends joined in on it and it turned into a little community” with Henrik Villard forming a significant piece of the puzzle in establishing BCR as a label. “He helped us just from the experience he had releasing a lot of tunes,” explains Anders. Henrik’s experience in the industry gave them the confidence to establish BCR as a label and in 2021 they released their first record with Anders as Clastique breaking new ground for the trio.

They continued to host parties alongside releases from the collective. In the summer of 2021, while we were still in the midst of the pandemic, “they brought the  speakers outside and played loud and people came.” It  gave people “a place to go,” during a time of lockdowns, “even if you were just six people in the studio drinking beers and listening to good music.” And what do BCR define as good music? “I don’t think we had a sound in mind, but it is based on House music,” answers Anders. ”We love Techno too, but there is a lot of Techno in Oslo and we love House music more so…” BCR established itself as a House music collective.

It’s House music as inclusive as it can be and you can hear it throughout Anders’ own discography. From the broken beats of “Reminiscence” to the soothing melodies of “6AM” to the outer reaches of the Giorgio Mordoder-like sequences running through “Velvet Disco,” Anders Hajem makes House music defined by over 30 years of history informing the genre. Kjoret Gaar Volume 1 is a perfect example of that in its own right, and even while Anders is completely focussed on the dance floor on this release, it’s a broad and inclusive view of the dance floor. 

It’s an attitude that he transported to Full Pupp last year with Flint Eastwood and arriving between a heavy rotation of BCR releases, 2021 was a year of great creative output from Anders Hajem. It only seems to be hitting its stride in 2022. With another release primed for Tromsø outfit Mellom, a desire to have more external artists feature on BCR, and more events planned for the BCR collective, including their residency at Jaeger, 2022 might just see the return of House music in Oslo, spearheaded by this concept. “It’s great to have the opportunity to create that environment for that kind of music to blossom in the Oslo scene,” remarks Anders and as an individual and a collective at the forefront of this burgeoning scene, there is certainly a new and youthful impetus for it to thrive. 

Anders hopes that it will reach a point where “if you know there’s a BCR party, you know what’s up” and that we can safely assume will relate to any releases coming from the collective and Anders’ solo projects. There is something distinct yet still opaque about BCR and Anders Hajem and in due time it will reveal itself as a determinable force in Oslo’s House music scene. 

 

Peering through WINDOWS with Vinny Villbass

We interview Vinny Villbass ahead of his newly commissioned live show WINDOWS, which arrives with the return of the dance floor at Jaeger

*Photos by Lina Jenssen

Like many of us, Håkon Vinnogg (Vinny Vilbass) spent the pandemic staring out his window. With nightlife effectively closed and days consumed by low temperatures and an energy crisis,  we could do little more than cocoon in quilted hovels, waiting out the latest phase of the pandemic. 

We were caught up in a streaming algorithm, looking out through a digital portal, between episodes of syndicated South Korean television. We’d resigned ourselves to our sofas with glimpses of Netflix interrupting instagram celebrity cats. The feeds lay uninterrupted ahead of a dark January and we were free to plug in and tune out completely. 

Some of us however found new inspiration in these feeds and decided to tune in rather than opt out. Håkon was such a person and assuming his Vinny Villbass moniker, he put those “inputs” to work. He had the sense to stop for a moment, press pause on whatever streaming platform, and look out of his window a little longer. Soon he was whisked away, day-dreaming of a time beyond the pandemic. 

He started thinking about music and what it would be like when the time comes for the dance floor to open again. Taking those ideas into the studio, a project started to emerge and that project is called WINDOWS. “It’s about being bored, wanting to express yourself and getting some energy out,” he says about the project over a cup of coffee.

At the time of talking to Håkon, the 1m rule is still in place and the whole ambiguity around the arbitrary rules still perplexes, but WINDOWS and its creator is ready for the inevitable return to the dance floor. WINDOWS is a live show specifically created with Jaeger in mind and it will be performed for the first time this Frædag

We caught up with Håkon to talk about the live show, the pandemic and the state of club culture beyond the pandemic with some familiar themes running through the conversation as we peer through some windows with Vinny Villbass. 

*limited presale tickets available via ticketco

Tell me about WINDOWS. Is it an album and/or a live show?

There might be an album, but this is designed to express the re-opening of society. 

People in cities all around the world have been living within their four walls, looking out their windows. They even get tired of Netflix, because they’re more excited about seeing the neighbour’s cat on the balcony. All the music was produced during a time when the window was important. That’s why I called it WINDOWS. 

…And a window could be anything. It could be an algorithm on Spotify. It’s what you’ve seen, that world you’ve been pressured into living these couple of years. 

Was the concept there before you started making the music?

It was kind of more like a reflection afterwards. I didn’t sit down to make WINDOWS. It was more; what’s the common thing about these tracks? It’s all related to the inputs I’ve been getting during the pandemic, which has been limited. You have tv, and radio algorithms, and the small physical window that you see the neighbours through, and you start reflecting how people in the building next to you live their lives. It’s my way of expressing the fantasy. 

It seems there was a literal aspect, where you would be listening to other music, and that it might have influenced what you were doing. Was that a conscious aspect of this work?

Definitely… The whole world of music is copies and trying to make copies in a different way. Look at David Bowie. He was taking from the best and making it better. I guess that’s what everybody tries to do. Imagining that you are completely free of all inputs; that you have full creative freedom, I don’t believe that’s true. These days the inputs are very controlled by the market.

That’s got to be difficult to balance, trying to make something that will be relevant and yet be completely unique. 

Also in club dance music, there’s also this functional side of it that you need to consider. It’s related to where you are performing and how many people are there. There’s a social functional aspect that you need to have in the back of your head when you are making dance music. 

Did you have Jaeger in the back of your mind when you were making WINDOWS?

Yes, because I guess Jaeger has been the centre of dance music in Oslo. During the pandemic you’ve been looking forward to your next gig at your local club. I think  during the pandemic the club scene has become more local. I don’t think we’re going back to huge tours, travelling over the planet, if not just for the sake of climate change. 

This is a conversation that has cropped up frequently since the pandemic. I believe that the big names will be travelling as per usual, (and we’ve seen that starting to happen already), but it’s going to be those mid level DJs, who perhaps play away every second weekend, that will be the most affected by this. 

It might go both ways. You saw the club scene before the pandemic, which was starting to become quite boring with the same lineups at festivals. All those small artists weren’t even considered, because they don’t have enough soundcloud or instagram followers to become part of the circus. 

That made people think more in terms of a collective. Smaller groups of people, maybe even in different countries visiting each other. These small networks started to thrive, and I do hope that after the pandemic these small networks that find themselves through the internet, is going to be the biggest part of the club scene. 

I’m worried that most of the places that survived the pandemic will go back to booking, to avoid the risk of not pulling in an audience. 

Will they be able to afford the bigger names? Who knows, we might be back to normal in half a year. People are very adaptable. 

And in your case… You were playing abroad before the pandemic and playing regularly. How has it affected you?

For me, the whole touring aspect has always been more social. I’m more on the collective side of it. I want to play at a place, because I know there is somebody that has similar tastes. 

I’ve never been tempted to tour and play big clubs and festivals where you never get to meet people, and have no time to see the city. I think it’s very important that when you come to a new city as a DJ, you need to know the social factors of that city to understand wh

at to play. 

Seeing as you made the WINDOWS show specifically for Jaeger, did you have a specific night in mind?

It was more like the utopia of playing at Jaeger again.

That must have informed the way the live set was going to sound.

I don’t know if it’s so specific to Jaeger and a certain date. I think it’s more my imagination, how people would react, coming back. It’s much fast

er than anything I’ve done before. It’s all about the inner-punk wanting to get out and giving people some energy. 

How different is it from your previous recorded works?

It’s much more Housey and a lot more repetitive at 128 BPM. I’ve always been in the middle of the electronic sounds and the acoustic sounds of the dance floor. 

Speaking of WINDOWS specifically, I’ve been listening to a lot of African music and Turkish music, during the pandemic. I really feel that these cultures have much more deep-seated dependency on the human element. 

Will these organic sounds be more prominent in the live set?

It’s going to be a combination of these organic and more functional Techno rhythms. I’ve always played synthesisers live to get that human touch. So the human element will always be in my music. It’s hard to say, but it’s not exactly inspired by Turkish or African music. It’s just the randomness of my fantasies.

Is there a central theme to the sound of the music, based on those ideas?

It’s just classic House music and not being afraid of clichés either. Because in functional music there is a reason African rhythms have worked for 1000’s of years. It’s rhythm patterns that are well known to the human body and in House music, if you have a steady rhythm, you can put anything on top of it. 

Can we expect some gospel vocals?

Not for this project, but perhaps my own vocals. 

So there might be some lyrical content?

I haven’t decided yet. I’ll leave some of it up to improvisation. Something special happens when you go on stage. Then all the rhythms come to you more naturally and everything seems so natural and you dare to do stuff you don’t dare to do in front of two very precise studio monitors. 

It’s all fantasy. Not that there is anything directly connected to it. Let’s see if my imagination of the opening will be the same as the others. It’s going to be an exciting project. Have people been longing for the same things as me?

From our most recent experience, people seem very excited. Then again, people are a bit more hesitant to start a dance floor, as opposed to the summer last year. 

Do you think that’s the regulations or a social anxiety?  

A bit of both.

Actually these stupid dance regulations, reminds me of a time I first played in New York. This was with diskJokke around 2008. It was when Rudy Giuliani was mayor and there was a rule that you needed a dance licence. 

We started playing and I fetched a drink from the bar, dancing on the way over. A dude came over and told me I can’t dance. I thought he was referring to my skill, and he explained that there’s no dancing allowed, because of the dancing licence. 

Here we are playing dancing music and you’re not allowed to dance, and that’s like putting somebody in jail in my opinion.

Yes, it’s that last vestige of freedom, that freedom to move to a beat. It’s something instinctive as a form of liberation, and by clamping down on it, I can’t help but feel there’s this underlying conservatism seeping through those kinds of regulations. What’s quite striking is how they’ve maintained this bit of arbitrary regulation, not just here, but in Europe too, while everything else goes back to normal. 

It’s a fucking disaster. The only thing you need to give people is some personal space, but don’t take away people’s possibility to move… that’s dark.  

I feel however, that in club culture, this is, or at least was, an unspoken rule amongst most of us. You don’t dance on top of each other, and you respect each other’s space. 

Yes. Club culture became so big, because you could be free to go out by yourself. You were not stuck to dancing in couples. Just respect each other. 

Greetings from Jaeger: The start to the return of the dance floor

The time has come to get back to what we do best. After restrictions that forced us to close in December, there was a time of nervous uncertainty, as we stood waiting in some footloose purgatory for life to resume. We were happy when we could open again in January, but the sitting disco still doesn’t really sit well with us. It’s not what we were about and the novelty had worn off back in in the summer of 2020. We thought we were done with it.

It was a tough time, acquiescing to these measures, and trying to scrape out an existence on the brink. We managed with a little aid from big brother, but only barely. In the light of a new day all these regulations seems so arbitrary now, but I guess it’s easy to draw conclusions in hindsight. For now, let’s leave the politics at to door and revel in the fact that we can go dancing again!

No more table service or tempered chair boogie where we try to move in constrained motions as to not worry the powers that be. We’re clearing the dance floor to a point where we can appease the authorities, but if we’re to understand the prime minister correctly, even they are clueless as to where the line should be drawn. Our sauna is open and the gården is still warm with the new heating system we have installed, but we’re excited to be able to open the basement again in February. Work on the extended room has continued throughout the downtime, with a couple of extra 24″ subs to tweak the bottom end a little further and we’re ready to start hosting some international guests again.

All those bookings made pre-pandemic are stacking up alongside new ones made in 2021 that never came to fruition, so now in 2022 expect an onslaught of DJs visiting our sauna and basement booth in the near future. As always Frædag with g-HA & Olanskii provide Jaeger’s window to the world with a guest appearance every Friday going forward. In February that means a visit from Ross from Friends and Nastia as we slowly start filling up our calendar for the rest of 2022.

Our residents are back and local guests provide the variation in our week as we move from Techno to House, take a sojourn on the rocky breaks of Drum n Bass before heading off to balearic shores week in week out. Mandagsklubben remain the archetype as the oldest running night at Jaeger, while the week pivots around Frædag, where Øyvind Morken has taken on the role as defacto party starter for our weekend at Jaeger. Kicking off at 18:00, every Friday, he  Øyvind takes us on psychedelic journey on the fringes of “club music,” as only he understands the style of music.

Finnebassen is back; Lente is back; and MC Kaman is back! We’re still not quite ready to get back to 7 days a week, but Sundays are on the horizon for March in 2022. With a specially commissioned live show from Vinny Villbass and an exclusive dub Techno set from Prins Thomas it’s also a time of trying out new things at Jaeger.  You can check out the full programme here and keep an eye on our social media channels and website for late additions. We’re ready for a new phase and to put two years of uncertainty behind us. We just want to go dancing and we look forward to your company.

See you on the floor…

We’re back

Jaeger will be open again on the 20th of January with covid measures in place

Yes, we’re back… again. After we had to close our doors in December in accordance with the latest covid restrictions, we’re happy to announce that we can open again on the 20th of January 2022.

We’re still working under the auspices of covid restrictions and will only be allowed to be open between 18:00 -23:00 with table service only until the government and city re-evaluates the current restrictions. Our resident DJs will return to their residencies with some select guest DJs appearing alongside as we move towards a full reopening in what we hope we’ll be in the near future.

Alas there’s still no dance floor and it’s a bit like New York in the nineties, but there’s room for movement, and as long as people still enjoy this kind of music, we’ll endeavour to have a space for it. Please check our programme page for more details about the upcoming events.

Space is limited and it’s advisable to book your table ahead of time. We’ll be listing all our events on our ticketco page with options to buy tickets in our heated backyard ahead of the events. We’ll always endeavour reserve some tables for drop-ins and will try to accommodate those who arrive early.

We encourage social distancing and will serve all our guests at their table. There’s a handy app for that and our staff are very adept at the situation by this point.

Please bare with us however as weĺl be operating within these limitations, and we hope to get back to what we do best very shortly.

 

Art in activism – An interview with the anonymous dancer

We turn the attention to the dance floor to interview one of our regular patrons, and are astounded by what we find in this incredible individual and his work.

*Due to the sensitive nature of his work the subject of this interview has asked to remain anonymous. We ask that you respect his privacy.

When I see him, he is just a blur. He’s an inexhaustible source of energy and like many, I find myself gravitate towards him like a moth to flame. I’ve come to know him as the anonymous dancer that occupies the front of the DJ booth most Fridays. Some of the resident DJs have come to know him too. He doesn’t drink and he arrives early, securing a spot in front of the sauna where he’ll stay for the remainder of the night.

He’s uninhibited, always the first on the floor and often the last to abandon it. He’ll stop for a minute or two to have a conversation with a curious stranger, but he’ll get right back into it, as soon as the conversation lulls. Pumping his arms and jostling his feet, he is a frenzied movement of limbs that shows no fatigue.

Besides the odd greeting on arrival, I like to leave him to his own devices, and prefer to observe and admire his liberated movements as I sway in my own spot, some way off to the side.

Something of an enigma, he has been coming to Jaeger regularly for the past year. I’ve encountered him mostly on Fridays, but he’s no stranger to a Saturday jaunt on the tiles either. He came to us via DJ Charlotte Bendiks, but since then he’s become a welcomed presence at Jaeger, We’ve also come to know a little more of him as time progressed, and as is always the case there’s much more to him than meets the eye. So we’ve endeavoured to find out more about this remarkable man and his work.

Art in activism

“I like to be anonymous,” he says as we sit down for a conversation on a Friday afternoon. The coffee shop is an unusual setting and this is an unusual topic for any music-related media, but he immediately has my attention. I haven’t asked much about his life in the past, and was only made aware of his work within human rights through resident DJ, Ivaylo a short time before we decided to interview him.

He is a refugee and for over a decade he’s been working on educating people on the field of human rights through his organisation, Terram Pacis. “I founded it in 2010 and it’s basically my life,” he says over a large cup of hot chocolate. Terram Pacis is a non-profit organisation and he heads up each project personally. They’ve been granted special consultant status to the UN and work with various youth-oriented organisations. Working with communities in regions stretched from Sub-Saharan Africa to Eastern Europe, Terram Pacis’ main objective is to “advocate for human rights” with projects customised around specific problems.

He sees each project as “a work of art, where art becomes a form of activism” and approaches each project as a personal endeavour. “I need to see the problem and then that problem is a part of me,” he explains. There’s always an educational aspect to his work, whether he’s working with youth organisations or trying to inform older generations on the plight of the next. There’s a universal idea to “take people from different backgrounds and bring them into one space so they can learn together” and that can be applied to each project, regardless of the “problem” being addressed.

Terram Pacis “focusses on the rights that have been abused in the community rather than the broader human rights.” The organisation introduces people to the fundamental concept of human rights; their rights to protest and the due judiciary process, in an attempt to turn them into “human rights activists.” Then the “goal is to bring them to the same table” with other human rights activists in an effort to draw parallels to one another’s plight and instil the universal ideology of human rights.

“We can’t see human rights as one sided,” he stresses. “Excluding particular groups, because you are not interested in them, you can’t really call yourself a human rights activist. If we’re going to address gender-based violence for example, we then have to include everybody… an intersexed person might be 1 in 100, but that doesn’t mean you have to exclude them.” Part of his work with the UN for example is to challenge the type of language that exactly excludes these 1 in 100 minorities from the discussion.

His passion and dedication is humbling. Work consumes almost every minute of his waking life. He tries to limit “work hours” to 5 a day, but when you’re the founder of an organisation like Terram Pacis, your work consumes you. The only release comes by way of a dance floor. “Dancing is something that liberates me,” he says. “It’s a way for me to express who I am.” Whenever he goes to a new city, he seeks out a place to dance, and when he’s at home in Oslo, Jaeger is his first port of call.

It’s simply “easier to go to Jaeger,” and Fridays have particularly resonated with his own musical tastes. Fridays and Frædag offer him a “different kind of music and artists” and he’s specifically taken a real liking to “space disco” since moving to Norway. The “combination of disco and house music” appeals to his tastes “because it comes with different rhythms.” As somebody that enjoys dancing with his “mind” he prefers music where rhythms and beats vary, providing him with the mental stimulus to carry on dancing for “8 hours in a row.”

Growing up he wasn’t exposed to House music until came to Europe. Although Disco had been around, “people didn’t dance to Disco.” He was “listening to Jazz” in his youth. He prefers music with some meaning behind it and 60’s and 70’s Jazz created in that heated heart of the civil rights movement, was simply more accessible for a teen growing up in a post-war society. I don’t imagine there was much reason to dance back then.

Channeling the fear

He is somewhat reluctant to talk about those years, fearing it might get in the way of his humanitarian work, but he’s open to discuss it in general terms.

He was “very young when the war happened,” and yet one of the most tragic human events in recorded history and its aftermath is not something that leaves you likely. “It shapes who you are and end up becoming” and for him this has had a direct influence on his work today. He started “working with reconciliation” at a time when most of us were still just trying to navigate high school. Engaging young people with the same experiences, he sought to “shape a society that actually includes our ideas in the peace building process.” That’s when he started to become an advocate for human rights.

His work put him “in a problem with the government” and as a result he spent a stint in jail. When he got out, he moved to Norway as a refugee, setting in motion what would become Terram Pacis.

Between “human rights education, peace education and gender education” he is making a difference in the world, feeding on those experiences of his youth in an effort to affect important change. “You cannot overcome them,” he says of those experiences, “you just need to find a way to live them.” He prefers to channel those experiences into his work to “help people,” but it’s also been helping him. “I started my work to heal myself. You see the worst in humanity, and you also see the good, I chose to focus on the good.”

There’s a perpetual drive to what he does. Much like his dancing, he is constantly being encouraged forward in his work. I wonder if it’s the fear he might have felt during his youth. “In the beginning there is fear,” he answers. There’s “not enough food and not enough drinking water. You see people dying every day, and then fear becomes the norm. You’re no longer afraid because your mind and body is focussing on surviving.”

Today, “something is more important than that fear I had before. That’s where my optimism comes from – there’s nothing worse that can happen in my life that hasn’t happened before.”

That optimism has served him well in establishing Terram Pacis, but there are other aspects of his life where those experiences still affect him. For example, he has a “strange concept of friendship.” He always arrives alone whenever I see him and the brief encounters he has with those around him on the dance floor, never really mature into friendships or even friendly relationships. “If I have friends, I prefer them to not be in the same city,” he admits. “Being alone is what I understand.” He has little to no contact with anybody from his previous life, fearing for his and their safety, but it has done little to deter him to continue his work on human rights.

Liberation

Currently he has a few projects he is working on at the time of our conversation and the concerted focus he exudes while talking about them is quite infectious.

He talks eloquently about his work in projects that deal with subjects like internalised racism, the LGBT+ issue and the taboos around menstruation, making any problems the listener might be facing in his/her life feel trivial at best. He tries to engage the listener with subject matter in a language that is accessible from any perspective in an objective manner of speaking that makes you question why these issues remain prevalent in our society. And whenever I ask more searching questions about his personal harrowing experiences, he quickly turns the attention back to his work.

The last thing we talk about is his work in trying to eradicate the tax on menstrual products, and I find it hard to segue into a question about the night ahead. It seems so arbitrary now in the face of what he does for a living at Terram Pacis and his work seems a world away from the hedonistic associations the dance floor evokes. The dance floor doesn’t really compare to something like Terram Pacis, yet if it weren’t for the dance floor we wouldn’t have known about this incredible individual and his work. I’m suddenly reminded me of something I read recently; if there are more than two people in a room, you have politics.

We’ve been talking for an hour now, and I have more questions than what I have answers to, but I sense I might be testing the limits with this private individual. I greet him into the Oslo’s cold night only to see him later on the dance floor. He remains a blur.

 

Just the thought of it with Kim Dürbeck

We talk to Kim Dürbeck about Urchin remixes and his Vietnamese roots while we premiere a previously unreleased track from the artist.

Kim Dürbeck has been nothing short of prolific in the last two years. His Bandcamp account and Soundcloud page has seen a flurry of activity, cementing a new era for the producer and artist. It was all a means to an end during the lockdown period; “ to keep doing something while not DJing” as he explains over a telephone call. In its wake, however, it has created a new artistic phase for Kim. He’s in his hometown Sandjefjord when I call, about an hour and a half outside of Oslo, and yet Kim is no stranger to nightlife in Oslo.

A regular guest at Jaeger, he’s carved out a career based on his skills as a DJ that’s travelled far beyond the small and isolated coastal town of Sandefjord. He is one of the leading lights in an underground clubbing community that stretches across Norway and before the pandemic, he could often be found travelling the world with a record bag. Lately he’s focussed those skills and vast musical experience into his production work. Like many of his peers, Kim has been “stuck in the studio” these past two years and he’s been busy.

Urchin

“Would you like an unreleased track for the article,” he asks during our call. “A premier,” I suggest. “I have so many at the moment,” he says in nonchalant confirmation. He’s not boasting. Ensconced in his studio these past two years, surrounded by an arsenal of hardware synthesisers, drum machines and grooveboxes, he’s released a host of EPs on his own and contributed to compilations for HMD and the Vietnamese outfit Nhạc Gãy.

He’s been most active on Soundcloud and Bandcamp and coming via the latter he’s now also the first of possibly two remix packages for “Urchin.” André Bravo, Curtis Vodka, Cato Canari, JaJa Saine and Dustin Ngo contribute their interpretations of Kim’s Jungle-Acid original.The track, initially released two years ago, is something of a watermark in the career of Kim Dürbeck.

Urchin is a track that falls somewhere between the gaps of some left-field club genres. “It’s between Acid and Jungle,” says Kim by way of reiterating. Featuring a “simple break” that is also “not that aggressive” it’s not an easy track to pigeonhole. The Jungle element is there in the drums, and yet it is restrained. The lysergic 303 pledges its allegiances to Acid, but it almost disappears in the dense textures of the harmonies. The synthesised pad subdues the track even further, moving across the track in slow, swelling arcs of dirty noise.

It’s a track that “hit between different tastes” for Kim and he was justified when he found various ”friends” from different musical backgrounds drawn to Urchin. The Urchin remixes gave Kim the chance to “work with friends I don’t usually work with” and from André Bravo’s hefty Drum n Bass attack, to Curtis Vodka’s cut n paste trip through the dense sounds of Jungle, it covers a vast section of left-field broken beat music.

Alternative urban electronic music

Urchin and its remixes, as well as the tracks they bookend, has found Kim on a new trajectory in his music. “I always chopped a lot of breaks on my sampler when I was younger,” explains Kim “but I didn’t try to make proper Jungle like I do now.” Kim’s earlier releases would favour the more familiar constructions of European House and Techno. It would always have that raw machine driven component, but it’s only in the last few years that he’s started to explore the broken sounds of Jungle and IDM in his own music.

I wonder if it’s a reluctance on the part of Norwegian audiences to embrace these sounds that has seen him avoid these sounds in the past. He’s unsure. Although he feels that “it’s getting more open for it,” this style of music it’s still more popular outside of the country, and it’s been like that for a while.

As a kid growing up, with a foundation in Hip Hop, Kim was attracted to IDM and the British wave of artists coming from the ranks of warp et al, but he hardly found any kindred spirits in his love for this kind of music. “Most of my friends growing up didn’t like this kind of music,” he recalls, “and still today don’t like this kind of music” he adds with a tapering laugh.

Kim refers to this kind of music as an “alternative urban electronic” music with specific ties to the UK. It has much more in common with Hip Hop than the European tastes of House and Techno and in it he’s found a familiar language in which he can adapt to his own musical voice. Built from breakbeats and what he calls “errors”, Kim’s process still starts from the same machine-driven origins it always has. A live-improvisational jam between modular synthesisers, guitar pedals and computers lay the groundwork, and he never knows what will come from these sessions until they emerge from the chaos.

Kim likes to refer to his music as “art by accident” and you can hear it in its rawest form on the “Tools and Tracks“ release on Kim’s Bandcamp account. Lately however these accidents have yielded results closer to his youthful musical indulgences, than pandering to the trends around him and it’s not just something that’s cemented around his love for the sounds of IDM or alternative urban electronic music, but it goes even further back to his roots.

Finding a community

Kim Dürbeck has come full circle in more than just one way over the last two years. On the one hand, he’s been tapping into this raw, primal energy from his youth, while on the other, he’s going back to his Vietnamese diaspora roots.

Kim grew up in Norway to a Norwegian mother and Vietnamese father. In one of the Jaeger mix sessions, he talked about digging through his parents’ old tape collection, which included some Disco from his mother and “sessions” his father recorded on tape during Kim’s childhood. What these sessions were however has always eluded us…

It was “mainly Vietnamese folk music. Cai Luong, inspired by Chinese opera, but more at home,” explains Kim. The senior Mr. Dürbeck “was doing sessions every weekend with his friends” and would sing and write music for tape. Sometimes he would record sessions with guitar and mic with a lot of echo, which Kim says remind him of “Acid House.” “Tuned in half tones, it’s very different,” he explains.

Kim spent his childhood immersed in these tapes, laying the foundation for a rudimentary grasp of the production and mixing process. He cut and spliced his dad’s tapes together in mixtapes, laying the foundation for sampling techniques and Djing later on. These early Vietnamese roots lay largely untapped for the most part of Kim’s musical career however. Besides the odd annual celebration – one of which gave him his first DJ gig, playing Trance – there weren’t many who shared Kim’s interests at that point. While a burgeoning community of Vietnamese electronic music enthusiasts were waiting in the wings, Kim was largely left to his own devices and justifiably gravitated towards the Trip Hop, Hip-Hop, Trance, House and then Techno that his Norwegian peers favoured.

That all changed with social media as he started to find a larger Vietnamese diaspora producing and proliferating electronic music. It started with a “meme-account” he created, but blossomed beyond Internet humour and into music as he sought like-minded people.

“Being a Vietnamese diaspora, you search for other Vietnamese diaspora,” says Kim. It was “interesting to see people growing up just like you – doing music and being alternative.” Today there is a large community, spread all across the world, and Kim is certain it’s “mobilised.” We met a portion of this community in November when Levi Oi and Mobilegirl came to play alongside Kim for Oslo World, but the community stretches further and can be traced all the way back to Vietnam today.

Decolonising the dance floor

Through this extended social media network, Kim soon found more people like himself; people of Vietnamese ancestry living in the west, making electronic music. Most notably it was the introduction to Nhạc Gãy that set Kim off on a path to exploring these sounds again and becoming a vital part of this community. Besides Nhạc Gãy regular Dustin Ngo contributing to Kim’s Urchin remixes, there is also Kim’s contribution to the first Nhạc Gãy compilation.

“Nước Mắm Is My Holy Water” is raucous ensemble of drum machines and a folksy Vietnamese samples. It’s the first time you hear these two aspects of Kim’s youthful explorations combined, and the results are as intriguing as they are surprising. “It’s electronic music with vocals,”explains Kim of what constituted those early Vietnamese influences. “That’s why it fits so well in my jungle track for the Nhạc Gãy compilation.”

It all enriches that “collage of genres” that Kim likes to tap into when he makes music. More than that, it sympathised with Nhạc Gãy’s objective to decolonise the dance floor, as a strictly Vietnamese electronic music. It allows “access to the locals without going through the west,” according to Kim, but at the same time it’s not something that panders to exotic tropes like a library record or tourist CD. These are Vietnamese voices making electronic music in a broad sense, covering “electronic music in all genres.”

From the Jungle-infused Acid of Kim Dürbeck to the blistering Techno of Attiss Ngo on the compilation, there isn’t anything like a specific style of music that identifies these artists and their music or their nationality. It spreads as far in electronic musical styles and genrs as the Vietnamese diaspora they count amongst their ranks.

Looking towards the horizon

Kim “was supposed to go there and play” with the “Nhạc Gãy people” and initially the Oslo world line-up was also to include them “but because of covid” that never transpired. “So we had to book people from Europe.” Levi Oi and Mobilegirl certainly represented the larger community in full force. It looks like any future plans will have to be put on hold again as we face another season of covid restrictions and measures, but Kim is hopeful to get out there soon.

He continues to expand that network of friends he’s making across the world, when he’s not at home making music and he seems to be always busy on that front, as this premiere can attest. Besides producing, he’s also performing live as part of an ambient/techno trio in Sandefjord, “keeping the community alive” in the small town. He is also about to launch a new label with Larus Siguvrin, and Patås called Lek Rec, which will see the first releases come to the fore next year. At the same time he is currently working on the second remix package for Urchin while a hard-drive somewhere is bulging under the weight of music he’s created over the past two years.

As our conversation draws to a close, he excitedly tells me he’s “found a movie about Vietnamese Moroccan diaspora, and they have a very cool way of talking, mixing Arabic and Vietnamese.” …. “And just the thought of this is inspiring when it comes to music.” It will be curious to hear how this might develop and only time will tell.

There’s still clearly a lot more on the horizon for Kim Dürbeck; too much mention in a paragraph really, and it seems the pandemic has seen the artist hit a new stride, especially in music. He’s not only found a new perspective going back to the sounds of Jungle, but also a way to honour the sounds of his Vietnamese roots. From his tapes to those urban UK sounds, Kim Dürbeck is a melting pot of ideas at the moment and it seems to have no end.

 

A life of its own – Profile on Daniel Avery

Looking back through an old interview from 2013, Mischa Mathys attempts to frame the enduring appeal of Daniel Avery.

A lot has happened since 2013. Much has changed in the world of music, and especially electronic music. DJs have assumed rock-star status, travelling the world on their skills and almost every piece of music released today at the very least references electronic dance music tropes. Who would have thought back in 2013, that this music would be as popular as it is now and who would believe that by 2021 it would be inducted into popular culture in the way that it has. 

I certainly didn’t think that would be the case when I first interviewed Daniel Avery back in 2013. Even though he had just released Drone Logic, a very popular independent dance record, it was still a niche record.  Even in the dance music arena, fit fell between the gaps of a minimal Techno sound coming from Berlin and UK Bass coming out of London. Avery, although already well known and admired in DJ circles, was still fairly unknown outside of the UK before Drone Logic, but that was to change too. 

The record left an impression, perhaps even because it fell well clear of the trend-informed mark of the time, and Avery’s star rose accordingly, only justifying his finely honed skill as a DJ. Some 8 years later though, and I’m still listening to Drone Logic and we’re all too familiar with Avery’s craft in the booth. Yes, while things have changed, much has stayed the same, and the best of these, like Avery and Drone Logic have stood the test of time. 

“I got told early on by several people close to me that the only thing you can do is make something that is true,” Avery told The Big Takeover in an interview from earlier this year, and that sentiment reflects the work and the artist’s enduring appeal today. Four solo albums and a touring schedule that sees this in-demand DJ play all over the world week in and week out, and there is no denying that Daniel Avery’s truth, much like his music, resonates with the rest of the world. As he says in that same interview; “A true and an honest statement can never be beaten.”

I guess I like club music

Avery has come a long way from his adolescent indulgences. “I’d probably ask myself if I still had that Lostprophets CD I bought in my early teens…” Daniel Avery said if he could ask his younger self a question during that old interview. It was the allure of guitars that initially caught the young Avery’s attention growing up in Bournemouth. He ”grew up on things like droney, shoegaze music” according to a Dummymag interview which led to playing the bass guitar and by the age of 15, he was recording music via a 4-track recorder.  It was a “very rudimentary set up,” he claims in The Big Takeover interview today, “but the second I started doing it, something felt right about it.”

Call it a latent talent or innate ability, but Daniel Avery’s first foray into music would not come from making it, but rather listening to it and it took him some time to come to terms with electronic music in particular. As “a young, naïve kid,” he recalls in Dummymag, “all that was there in front of me was stag and hen parties playing dance music that I fucking hated.” 

While initially put off by the tawdry aspects of “club music” he eventually warmed to the idea when he started hearing DJs like Erol Alkan and Andy Weatherwall playing sets that crossed a line between the attitude of punk-rock and the more polished aspects of electronic club music. “Richard Fearless and Death In Vegas were a very early one as well, because I love Death In Vegas and went to see them, and he was playing this mind-expanding techno and electronica. And I was like, ‘you know what, I guess I do like club music.’” That affirmation not only endeared Avery to the sound of club music, but most apparently propelled him forward towards a career in DJing. 

Selling records or selling records

“I started playing warm-up sets around 2003, but even then, it simply felt like an extension of making mixtapes for my friends but on a bigger scale,” he told me back in 2013. Avery found an affinity in the ability to be able to “affect the mood of a room,” but more than that he was able to follow in the footsteps of people like Weatherall and Fearless, blending in new music with more experimental sounds for a largely listening audience. “I discovered I could play the stuff that was coming out at the time, like the first Interpol record or TV On The Radio, and then I could also play Neu! or Kraftwerk or Harmonia,” he told Dummymag. 

He assumed Stopmakingme as a DJ moniker and started playing around London, most notably as a nascent resident for Fabric. While the UK was moving towards Bass music and the likes of Riccardo Villalobos was establishing a new minimal sound in room 1 of Fabric, Avery was drawn to the harsher edges of Techno, that was beginning to form around the last remnants of Electroclash in room 2. “I do love the grittier end of it,” he says of the style of Techno he enjoyed at the time. “A fucking heavy break from a rave/jungle record will get me every time, but everything I do has a techno heart.“ That fluid approach cemented his style and took its cues from those archetypal DJs like Erol Alkan who started to take notice of the younger Avery, but more on that later…

Around the same time as he picked up Djing, he started working at a record shop in Farringdon, London. He grafted, selling records by day while honing his DJ skills by night. London came to know Stopmakingme, not from the music that was yet to come, but for his individual skills in the DJ booth. He became a regular favourite at the esteemed Fabric, and soon caught the ear of an international audience on his skills as a DJ alone. After a decade working the decks, he did eventually move into production. 

Talking to him in 2013, I asked why he had hesitated to release music. “I didn’t hesitate,” he claimed, ​​”it was just something I had never even thought about in the early days.” In the interview with The Big Takeover, he shines some more light on the subject, suggesting that his decision to start releasing music might have coincided with the closing of the record store in Farringdon. “I was really faced with this huge crossroads in my life,” he remembers. “I could either find another job selling other people’s records, or I could make records that were sold in these stores. It was a leap of faith, but it’s one I took, and I’m so glad I did.”

On the shoulders of giants

Releasing a few singles and EPs as Stopmakingme, he made music that offered to bridge that gap between indie bands and the dance floor, much like Weatherall did with his early work for Creation, but as the bands started moving away from guitars and towards drum machines and synthesisers, so did Avery and Stopmakingme had to be killed off, so Daniel Avery could be born again. 

“I look back on the Stopmakingme period as my ‘first band.’” he recalled in 2013. It was like a kid picking up a guitar for the first time and seeing what comes out. I listen back now and it all sounds so young and naive… because that’s exactly what it was. I switched to my real name at a time when it felt like I was finally able to actualise some of the sounds in my head and, with that, could begin to carve out something of my own style.”

Assuming his given name, and teaming up with his idol Erol Alkan, Daniel Avery carried on where Stopmakingme left off, both as a DJ and a producer. It called in a new era in music for the artist behind the moniker. With Erol Alkan as friend and mentor, Avery practically moved into Alkan’s studio, with Alkan providing the platform in Phantasy Sound and the tools in the form of the machines to record what would eventually become Drone Logic. 

The breakthrough record was an immediate success in club music circles, even though it completely broke with the zeitgeist of the time. Raw, heavy percussion and synth sequences running like freight trains through the arrangements was pure body music; but body music exploring the emotional depths of a mechanical soul. “The thing that draws me to this kind of music,” says Avery by way of explanation in The Big Takeover, “is the idea of taking machines, mechanical objects, and breathing some kind of human life into them – some kind of living soul or beating heart, and making them sing in that way.” 

He moved into a studio which shared the building with not only Alkan, but also Andy Weatherall. “Aside from being surrounded by a staggering record and synth collection,” he says about the experience in the Skinny, “ it’s just a very inspiring place with an ever-present creative atmosphere.” Even, inspired as he was, it would take five years for him to follow up Drone Logic with his next record, Song for Alpha.  

Unreal

“It’s been a year full of highlights,” said Avery in 2013. “Releasing the album felt like a big moment but the thing I’m most pleased about is that I feel more confident than ever as a DJ. I’ve always been proud of my sets, but I’ve really felt a significant gear shift this year. I feel like I could play for hours and hours in every city I visit.” 

In the five years between his first and his second record Daniel Avery’s reputation as a DJ preceded him wherever he went. Channeling the influences of the likes of Andy Weatherall, Fearless and Alkan, Avery found a distinct voice in the DJ scene. Techno remains at the heart of everything he does from the booth, with humanoid machines dictating the language, but it’s that “mind-expanding” experience that he first encountered with Fearless that has become central to his interpretation of the genre. His 2016 DJ Kicks mix stands testament to that. It’s a psychedelic trip through a labyrinth of electronic soundscapes unfolding in a cinematic plot-line. It doesn’t entertain any specific genre other than a broad Techno interpretation, and while the songs of their time the mood we encounter in that mix is timeless. 

“The music that interests me is the music that sounds unreal,” Avery told Interview magazine  about where his particular tastes lie. For Avery it’s “music that sounds like it comes from somewhere else entirely and grabs you by the hand and takes you somewhere that you haven’t really been before,” and that is reflected in his DJ sets. In those early influences he seems to have carved out a unique sound that sets him apart from his predecessors, while at the same time offering a fitting tribute to the legacy left by Andrew Weatherall

Get lost

After that, “it became almost a necessity to be in the studio,” Daniel Avery told Interview around the time his second LP was released. Looking for “somewhere that feels totally different to a nightclub,” he set about making “Song for Alpha,” an LP that picked up where Drone Logic left off, while at the same time consolidating Avery’s love for those psychedelic sounds, and the quest for the dance floor. “I’m just a huge fan of psychedelic music…I just like music in which you can get truly lost.”

Getting enough distance from his debut LP, Song for Alpha is a truly different beast, although it retains some of that elusive visceral appeal of Drone Logic, even elaborating on it. “I just realised very early on that I wasn’t interested in saying the same thing again,” he explained in Interview. In the five years since releasing Drone Logic, that “youthful urgency” he displayed, had calmed and matured. Song for Alpha not only indicated a significant change, but it set the benchmark for the next 3 years, which saw Avery release two more LPs, a collaborative LP with the legendary Alessandro Cortini, and a host of EPs and remixes too. 

Song for Alpha and the succeeding Love + Light saw Avery taking a very different approach to his sound with atmosphere playing a significant role in his music. That visceral feeling he achieved in the bold rhythms of Drone Logic, he now transposed to melody and harmony as synthesisers came together in vivid orchestrations. In the two part record Love + Light it’s particularly striking as Avery moves from the impulsive dance floor to the serene tranquility of an ambient record. Love + Light did more than just tie a narrative between the beginning and the end of that record, it also offered a bridge between Song for Alpha and the follow up record, Together in Static.  

Starting life as a concept for a show, Together in Static marks the latest in Daniel Avery’s discography, showcasing, yet another side to the artist,; a reflective side, with more than just corporeal impulses dictating the mood. “It started to form,” explained Avery in The Big Takeover, “this idea of making something specific for the show that was more ambient-leaning and toward the quieter side of what I do.“ There’s no doubt that the pandemic played a significant role in this objective for an album conceived in 2021, but yet again shows Avery able to adapt, without succumbing to the zeitgeist. 

A life of its own

“I feel, right now, as if what I’m creating is a sound I’ve been striving for ever since I started,” he believes, but all the elements that constitute his appeal are still very much there, even in this latest record. The idea that “robot music” must “have a human heart” continues to be a recurring theme in his work, but now it’s able to modulate between the dance floor and a pair of headphones. 

“The best DJs take things from different genres and make them sound like they’re from the same world,” Daniel Avery told the skinny back in 2016, and with Together in Static it’s a sentiment he can still apply to his production work too. 

It’s not 2013 any more, it hasn’t been for some time, but Daniel Avery remains consistent in his ideologies. Although the music has changed and the audience has gotten younger, he remains, and the ideas that shaped Drone Logic and his earlier sets are still intact, unwavering in the presence of whichever contemporary trend. Despite, or perhaps in spite of that, Daniel Avery has shaped his career into legacy today, walking in the footsteps of those he idealised back when he was starting out. His ability in the booth is unmatched and his music continues to draw new fans to his work. 

“Creating something that can be shared around the world and that’s got a life of its own even when I’m gone,” is something Avery said he strived for in The Big Takeover. Today, as we discuss his debut LP and the fact that everything we talked about in 2013 can still be applied, the sentiment runs true. 

* Pre-sale tickets available here.

It’s just too loud with Third Attempt

*photos by Mats Gangvik

In an interview originally posted from the now defunkt formant page, Third Attempt talks about his debut LP during the midst of the pandemic.

Through shimmering pads, the faintest echoes of white noise, and an oscillating sine wave a woman’s voice appears out of the sonic mist that opens Third Attempt’s debut LP. “The world is just too loud,” she says in a lo-fi murmur, before cutting out and disappearing into the wave of a rolling bassline. The short vignette introduces the album and its title, setting a tone for a record searching for some quietude on the fringes of the dance floor.

“I had to get out of my comfort zone,” says Torje Fagertun Spilde (Third Attempt) over a telephone call from his hometown of Tromsø, where the situation with the coronavirus has been exacerbated by excessive snowfall, burying its inhabitants in a moist white blanket of uncertainty every day. “I don’t think you would want to be here now,” he says through a sigh. “It’s very depressing,” but the phone call finds in him good spirits at least and when I delay to inform him that I’m recording this conversation, he says; “What would happen if I said no, now(!)” with a jocular guffaw.

In some clairvoyant mistake, World is too loud couldn’t come at a better time. With an eerie quiet consuming Europe’s dance floors and many people sequestered indoors, Torje’s debut LP as Third Attempt has unwittingly found some sympathy with a world that is currently being bombarded with a silent war raging at a microscopic level. It is a remarkable coincidence, but the ideas and the circumstances that shaped the album has found some sympathy with the world as it is now. The idea was to “create a listening record,” explains Torje. Using “slower tempos,” closer to the music he would be “listening to at home,” rather than the kind of music that would usually find its way into his DJ sets, he wanted to get back to the more organic elements in music with a record he prides on being versatile. 

A fresh start

Torje has been refining a sound from the DJ booth as Third Attempt since 2017, after a ”fresh start” from the work he’d been doing under two previous aliases. Deep chords, intricate pads and elastic bass lines, converging around predetermined moods and tempos had laid the groundwork for Third Attempt’s records, with music that would drift between unraveling House beats with a striking use of melody and harmony. But for World is too loud he wanted to get some distance from this style of music. 

After a successful slew of records for Tromsø’s Beatservice Records, the producer has channeled these aspects of his sound into slower tempos, conjuring a very different sound from his previous records, while retaining that distinction of the Third Attempt approach. The record gestated at a time when club music wasn’t “cutting it anymore” for the Norwegian producer. “I felt I overdid it,” says Torje who “doesn’t feel it’s intriguing anymore” as an artist and an enthusiast. He has been growing increasingly bored with the cookie-cutter House that he was experiencing on the dance floor each weekend. He calls it “Toro brownie House,” referring to the popular Norwegian instant brownie mix, and says his “wake-up call” arrived one weekend on the dance floor when he realised “I heard this track last weekend, and I don’t even like it.” Torje didn’t want to be just another cog in the faceless horde, making music with the singular perfunctory intent of the dance floor. “I don’t want to sound like everybody else,” he exclaims delightedly, “because who am I then?”

He was looking for a way to get back to the soul of House music and started “listening to stuff outside the electronic spectrum to gain a different perspective.” It was late last summer and then “something just clicked” for the producer, but he didn’t quite arrive at the sound of the record completely in isolation. Working with the fundamental ideas that would inform the album, Torje only had a “half-assed beat” before collaborating with his “good friend Håkon (Struve)” on the two tracks that would become Shift and Rotor. 

A different flavour

Håkon (Leaf Pile & Sidewalk), a “very talented guitarist” coming from psych rock and garage traditions, had met Torje on the dance floor. The pair found that they had “a lot of things in common” and became fast friends. When Håkon acquiesced to his friend’s request and added some live instrumentation on his pedestrian beats, he brought “a totally different flavour” to Torje’s tracks. The result was Rotor and Shift, with the rest of the album coalescing around those two tracks, before moving to an ambient atmosphere. 

Shift and Rotor, introduces a new organic element to Torje’s sound that we’d not experienced on his previous EPs much. Evolving chord progressions and wispy tails of melodic and harmonic threads flit between funky synthesisers and anxious guitars as Third Attempt wrestles a primordial sound from rigid computer systems. “I just wanted more of a human feel,” explains Torje. While his music is still largely coaxed from within the computer, Torke admits “the machine stuff can become very tiring,” and for this album he specifically “wanted to pursue the soul aspect of things.”

While Håkon’s guitar played an important role in bringing this element to the fore in the beginning, sampling too played another important role in applying that “human” touch to this record. Sampling “old soul and funk records” Torje could create a virtual band from his “closet studio,” where he could impose that human feeling on the mutable structures and formulas of contemporary electronic music, “It comes from a human,” he says referring to the samples “and that’s important because that’s flavour.”

Torje would create his bass lines around these samples, imposing the soul and funk aspects on the relationship between the percussion and the synthesised bass, which has that indefinable tether that ties this LP to the EPs that came before it. The “communication between the rhythm and the bass is probably how I start making a track,” according to Torje, which retains that tether to the dance floor and ThirdAttempts  electronic roots during World is too loud. There are two distinct sides that appear through the course of the album. While Shift and Rotor established the organic approach in the realm of soul and funk, it would move into the more abstract electronic hemisphere by the time Longing reaches our ears.

Glimmers of nineties ambient music emerges, calling to mind the likes of orbital with pads floating through an uneven path of bass drums and snares. Melodies converge and dissipate into the distance as textures evolve through arrangements in reflecting pools of sound that languish in a serene disposition. Displacing the funk with atmosphere, but keeping that organic touch, World is too loud is a record of two very distinct sides, but very much of the same coin. “If the whole album was like that,” says Torje referencing the two tracks he recorded with Håkon “it wouldn’t be the same.”

Feeling over movement

It’s at this point a narrative begins to emerge with the title of the album exposing some hidden thread with the world around it. “The end of the album is more for the feelers than the movers.” It creates a bridge between the dance floor and the morning after. “Atmosphere is probably the number one thing for me,” says Torje. “It’s important to get right, because you can create so much movement and so much feeling, just by a pad laying there.” While atmosphere has been a consistent presence in his music, since establishing the Third Attempt moniker, in the slower tempos and mood he conjures on World is too loud it’s emphasised. In the context of the record, a theme emerges with Torje shutting out any outside influence and retreating into the music. 

It’s “almost therapeutic,” transporting the artist “somewhere else” on the echos of a sample he had stored away in his library. The sample, taken from the movie makes another appearance in Prelude after the introduction, and while it’s not “important what movie it’s from” the line resonated with Torje and on a subconscious level it was the “perfect” platitude to frame the circumstances behind the creation of the LP. 

“Thinking outside the box was really helpful to me,” says Torje, who found himself not only disengaging with the superfluous noise of the outside world, but also the Third Attempt sound. “Just thinking of how others perceive what you are doing,” he explains “I’m limiting myself subconsciously” and that’s something he “never” wants to do again…  “never again” he stresses. “Rebelling against himself,” and against the primal urges of the dance floor, Torje has succeeded in making an album that has matured his sound as an artist and is unique in the contemporary landscape for its versatility. Torje hasn’t succeeded in completely severing all ties with the dance floor as measured rhythm sections play to corporeal delights and retain that elusive mystique behind the Third Attempt sound. 

It’s a sound he is “definitely going to keep pursuing” from his closet studio, and he says he already has the bulk of a new EP ready. Being one of the many people on furlough in Norway, Torje has remained busy, making music. “I was in denial… so I just  ended up creating a lot of music in a short amount of time.” It’s given him the time to “develop something that’s been there for a long time” and while he’s still coming to terms with the “strange times” we find ourselves in, he is positive and upbeat about the possibilities that lay just beyond the horizon. “Maybe it’s good for humans,” he considers. “People are more open, and maybe people’s attention span is getting longer,” setting the scene for an album like World is too loud to exist.

Torje hopes the album will offer the listener the same kind of escape that it gave its artist last year, because sometimes the world gets awfully loud.

Oh Snap! it’s Antony Mburu

Oh Snap it’s Antony Mburu. DJ, vinyl enthusiast and club socialite talks about this now iconic picture from our photo album and more in a Q&A.

Meet Antony Mburu. His figure looms large over Oslo’s clubbing community, both on the dance floor and in the booth. Formidable both in stature and heart, he can always be found with a bounce in his step and grin on his face. 

Before he was a DJ he was a music- and club enthusiast, an untamed spirit with the ability to infect all those around him. Today he channels that spirit into his sets, often playing at Jaeger and regularly with kindred spirit Rolf Riddervold, never losing that enthusiasm he displays in this picture, taken in 2016, during our annual romjulsfestivalen. 

It was a night to remember. Not a creature was stirring, except on the dance floor. The Boogienetter DJs were out in full force with Daniel Gude leading the likes of Fredfades, Rude Lead and Hele Fitta through boogie- and disco classics and rarities. While the DJs brought the tunes, Antony brought the vibe and the picture seals in time an enthusiasm that’s rarely been captured on film like this. 

It’s become our go-to picture when we want to reflect on a sense of joy and excitement at Jaeger, and today it’s cemented in our photo album as one of those classic pictures. A lot has changed since 2016, but the feeling is still there and Antony Mburu is a big part of that today at Jaeger.

#Antony plays alongside Rold Riddervold tonight at Jaeger. 

Hey Antony Mburu; DJ, music lover, vinyl enthusiast… club socialite. Would that be an accurate introduction?

Absolutely!!

I know you have had mixed feelings about us using the picture in the past, but what’s your relationship to it today and what do you remember of the events surrounding it?

Hahaha i was just really surprised that this picture surfaced after such a long time. The same night I took off my shirt and danced shirtless in front of the dj. I think I got a picture of the situation on my phone somewhere. I was really buzzed that night so the rest is a kind of a blurr

It’s our go-to picture when I want to convey a sense of joy and happiness via Jaeger’s social media. You look so happy there. Was it completely spur of the moment, or was it something specific that happened to be caught on camera?

That night I met up with my friends from high school. I really wanted us all to go to Jaeger together so I convinced them to join me. My friend Caroline is the girl under my arm to the right. She was really excited that night as well even though it doesn’t look like it. This is just me being captured in a moment being happy with the music and the company of my friends. 

That picture was from 2016…What have you been up to since?

Not much! Just working, travelling and listening to music.

Had you been DJing at that time already?

I think I started to DJ that same year.

How did you start DJing and was there anything, besides the music, that particularly inspired you into that direction? 

Me and my friend Rolf Olav discovered his older sister’s DJ booth in the basement at his fathers place. We borrowed her USB with a lot of unknown music we had never heard of. We just started to play around with the music at pre parties and it evolved from there.. We didn’t have so much knowledge about the artists and the equipment but we played around and it was so much fun. I really like to dance so my main objective is to play music that makes you move your feet as much as I do. 

What kind of music were you into back then?

A lot of EDM. Avicii, Ingrosso, Laidback luke, goldroom, uffie, bob sinclair,deadmau5, røyksopp, and the list goes on

How have your tastes evolved?  

Oh, it has really evolved! Now I’m experimenting with whatever I can get my hands on. As long as it sounds good to my ears I’m all for it. So I listen to a lot of mixes that I find on soundcloud and mixcloud. And I also started playing vinyl so I’ve had help from people like Rolf Olav, Øyvind Morken and Filter boss Roland Lifjell. They’ve really opened my ears for music from different labels I have never ever heard off. 

I’ve heard everything from afro-beat to peak-time high energy House coming from your sets. How would you describe the music you play out?  

It’s a mix of everything. But I like music with energy and the idea of blending different styles together and not sticking with one direction from the start. But it all comes down to the reaction from the crowd. If they dance or not. 

How and when did you start playing with Rolf Riddervold? 

Me and Rolf have known each other since high school and we have always shared music with each other. We became interested in electronic music (2012) at the same time and when we got a hold of some CDJs and a lot of music, started learning and just really went in for it. That was around 2016.

What direction does he usually take you in when you guys start playing together? 

Rolf Olav has a much more creative side when he mixes. His taste is broad so when we play together it’s more experimental and fun then playing alone. We challenge each other by having different styles so that makes it more challenging matching it all together, but that is kind of the fun part of it all.  We never know where we’re gonna end up, but we always end up having a great time!

I keep either seeing you behind the decks or on the dance floor. What side of the DJ booth do you prefer today?

Definitely behind the DJ booth. It gives me immense joy sharing music with the crowd and that’s something that I don’t get tired of. 

BigUP! interview Boj Lucki

Jaeger’s Drum n Bass and Jungle residents, BigUp! talk to Boj Lucki ahead of his appearance for Oslo World next week.

If there was ever an electronic music that was imbued with the rebellious spirit, it would be Drum n Bass. It instills the kind of fanaticism of cult legends, with a legion of dedicated followers that very rarely veer from its path. Today, it’s a culture all on its own, separate from any other dance music culture, a bonafide subculture within a counter culture like club music.

It’s a lifestyle, not just a music, and for the past few years BigUP! has been Jaeger and Oslo’s tenuous connection to that lifestyle. The Oslo-based DJ representatives are the first and last name in all things drum n bass and jungle in the city, and when Oslo World came round with a concept proliferating the rebels in music, we couldn’t think of anyone better illustrate that point for the Wednesday part of the festival.  

Drunkfunk, Fjell, Tech and Simon Peter represent the BigUP! crew for the event and to mark occasion they activated their global network, to bring their Swedish counterpart, BOJ Lucki to Oslo and to Jaeger for the night. 

The Stockholm-based DJ and producer has been a staunch representative for the drum n bass genres in Sweden, raising the banner for this style of music in his efforts as part of the MIR crew. His a well-travelled DJ, playing all over the world, and a regular guest on popular radio channels like Kiss 100 and BBC 1Xtra. He’s established a label called Bukva Sound to continue to promote the drum n bass and jungle in Sweden and today he shares a kindred spirit with BigUP as one of a select handful proliferating the genre in Scandinavia. 

In the tradition of their events, BigUP! sent some questions to their visiting DJ, and for the first time we have the opportunity to publish it via our blog. 

Who is Boj Lucki?

Name: Boj Lucki

Promolink(URL)https://soundcloud.com/bojlucki

Active since: 2001

Connected labels / concepts: Bukva Sound, Mir Crew, Klubb Rekyl, Special Order

https://bukvasound.bandcamp.com/

When was the first time you heard Jungle / DnB 

At home as my brother listened to Jungle and Breakbeat from mid 90s. The first tracks I really liked: Urban Shakedown feat. DBO General – Some Justice (Arsonist Dub Mix) and DJ Zinc – The Source & Super Sharp Shooter.

 What makes Jungle / DnB special for you

The energy, the bass, that it still feels futuristic, that it fits so many music styles in one.

 What made you start DJing ?

To convey a feeling on the dancefloor, spread all amazing music that is out there and make people happy:) I was inspired by my older brother who learned to DJ and had gear in our home.

Favorite producers

Breakage, Sully, Response, Digital, Kid Drama, Coco Bryce

Favorite labels

Western Lore, Future Retro, Function and Metalheadz

Vinyl or Digital 

Both

Do you play any other genres?

Yes, some Breakbeat, UK Garage, Dancehall…

Other messages for Bigup’s followersX

Great to visit Bigup & Oslo for the first time😲! 

Find out more:

BOJ LUCKI/ MIR CREW/ REKYL/ SPECIAL ORDER/ BUKVA SOUND

www.mir-crew.com

www.facebook.com/klubbrekyl 

www.facebook.com/specialordersthlm 

www.soundcloud.com/bojlucki 

www.soundcloud.com/bukvasound

 

Driving with Tarjei Nygård

We caught up with Tarjei Nygård to talk about Drive, his latest collaboration with Egyptian Lover and more.

*photos by John Derek Bishop

There’s no mistaking Egyptian Lover’s sound. That west coast sound, imbued with the spirit of pre-hop-hop electro has been cemented in club music’s collective psyche and none dare, nor can replicate it. It lends itself to a time, but a time in a parallel dimension traveling perpendicular to ours. It’s a universe where electrified Deloreans power through aerial freeways and TuPac never left the Digital Underground. It’s where Egyptian Lover thrives, and it’s here Tarjei Nygård and Stockhaus turned to when they went searching for the vocals on their one-off collaboration “Drive. “

Drive sounds like nothing Tarjei Nygård has done in the past. A unique interaction between two Norwegian producers and a serendipitous exchange with an electronic music legend has led to one of the most endearing tracks and subsequent releases of 2021. It’s not something we expected coming off the back of Tarjei Nygård’s equally brilliant, but decidedly different 2019 EP “Lost in Lindos” and despite or more likely in spite of that, it’s turned heads as large as Solomun’s. “That’s so strange,” chuckles Tarjei over a telephone call from Stavanger, ”because it’s not the type of thing he is known for… That’s the thing with a one-off like this, it doesn’t fit into anything.”  

“Drive” skirts that impossible divide between club track and radio banger, featuring a punishing electro beat, massaged into submission with an accessible melodic theme and Balardian sci-fi lyrics from a vocoder operated by a man that has refined that style of music to a precision craft, Egyptian Lover. The larger than life figure has made an indelible impact with this particular style of music and he remains a constant presence that never disappoints. It’s a rare occasion that he features on any music other than his own, but when Nygård and Stockhaus cooked up the foundation for “Drive,” there was always only going to be one voice that could adorn their creation.

Waxing lyrical on desires of mechanophilia, “Drive” cruises on an undulating beat, flowing through synthesisers and vocoders like a 16 bit car as it weaves through LA traffic. Watching the canvas loop in Spotify, the music transports you back to the arcade in 1990 as blocky palm trees float through your periphery on your way to nowhere in particular. Stockhaus, Tarjei Nygård and Egyptian Lover capture the mood perfectly.

 It encouraged us to get in touch with Nygård to find out more about the track and what else he’s been up to since we last spoke. He’s just recovered from the re-opening party in Stavanger and after a “very enjoyable experience,” where he had the opportunity “to play for the heads” again after a long hiatus, he’s in good spirits and eager to talk about “Drive;” a new musical project; and a label in the works…

What have you been up to since we last spoke?

When covid hit, I was just in the studio making music. So now I have a bunch of music and I need to put that out. The first was Drive with Egyptian Lover. 

Yes, let’s talk about Drive. 

It took time to land that project, because first we had the song and then we realised quite quickly Egyptian Lover would be perfect to do the vocals on it. 

Did you know Egyptian Lover from before?

I knew him because I had booked him to a festival in town. I also met him in Miami one time. It helped because I met him before I booked him. I asked him and he was up for doing the vocals.  It took some time, because I wanted to be in the studio when he was doing it. 

This was before the pandemic.

Yes, I was in LA in 2018. I was lucky to go to California for some work in my old job and I combined it. 

Was it  only his vocal you were after, or did he add anything to the music?

I guess he added something to the music, by using the vocoder, which is his signature thing. It was very cool to be there and see the way he records.

Did you go to his studio?

He doesn’t have his own studio. I think he just rents a studio for a week when he’s working on something. I guess it’s easier in LA because it’s a little bit cheaper. But he is very adamant on doing it on an SSL desk and this kind of approach. Everything he does is old school, like mastering tapes to the pressing plant on vinyl. He’s doing it like he did it in the eighties.

What was Stockhaus’ involvement?

It started because Stockhaus was here in Stavanger, doing a writing course in music. He had some free time, and I invited him up to my studio and we made the track together. There was a little bit back and forth after we got the vocals from Egyptian Lover, and then I did the final mix. I also made the club version and the dub version. 

Tell me a bit about the club version, because it seems to me that it’s basically an extended version of the original.

That’s totally correct. It’s very similar to the original. The idea of the whole project was to keep it in this eighties vibe, when they had this extended version on every record. And that’s also why the dub is also quite simple, like those versions you would find on an eighties record. 

Where did the track start? Was it a melody, a beat, or simply a jam session?

We started with a drum beat, from what I can remember. I programmed some drums and Kristian Stockhaus just started playing stuff. It was just a collaboration in the studio and it was this kind of jam session, where we got a lot of tracks down. I made a demo version, which I played out and people seemed to enjoy, and then I sent it to Egyptian Lover and it continued into this song. 

Did it originally have that west coast feel, even before he put his vocals on it?

It was there from the beginning, and when we did it, we didn’t have Egyptian Lover in mind. It’s a one-off song for me, because it doesn’t sound anything like the stuff I’ve done before. 

I think that’s why it jumped at me when I first listened to it. 

I do a lot of different stuff and I’m interested in a lot of different music styles. We ended up just doing it, we didn’t have control either. The strange thing is that it could have been lost on a hard-drive somewhere.

Did the track already have a name at the point when you got Egyptian Lover on board, or did that happen after he wrote the lyrics?

I think I actually had the concept in mind, and he wrote the lyrics. It had that retro video game feel to it. He is such a professional. A couple of days before I arrived, I had sent him a little blurb about the track and when I came into the studio, he had everything written down and was ready to go. He’s very effective and just very good at what he does. 

Will this result in any future projects for the three of you?

I think this is a one-off. (laughs) It is nice to see this kind of one-off thing to the end, because a lot of these one-off things don’t really make it out in the end. It’s almost more difficult to finish this kind of project, than a project that’s similar to what you are doing.

How much more do you have coming out?

I’m working on a big project with Are Foss. We’ve released a few songs together on Full Pupp and Eskimo and are now beginning to see the end of a big project.

This is the project where you guys were going to your hytte and recording music?

Yes, we’ve been up there a bunch of times, driving snowmobiles and A.T.Vs, carrying a lot of equipment and having some friends over. That project is 85% finished, but it’s really nothing I can talk too much about…

Is it very much like the track you worked on together on Lost in Lindos, Øylie?

Some of it, but it goes in all directions. It’s quite an ambitious project. Some of the songs are pop; some are ambient and downbeat; and some are experimental. We even use a banjo in one of the songs. (laughs) 

The other thing is that I’m reviving my old festival Perkapella as a record label, that’s something I want to talk about more. 

Is the new music going solely for your own music?

I’ve signed The Glue. They are going to release their back catalogue and maybe some new stuff. 

Is The Glue’s music what planted the seed for the record label?

Yeah, they make Disco edits and during covid I got the rights to some of the songs that they’ve edited. That’s going to be quite fun. There is this one song that’s quite popular called, “penger” which was an underground hit on soundcloud. 

What about your releases, will you continue to release on other labels like Eskimo and ESP, or will you eventually release your music on Perkapella too?

I will see. First we have to start getting those releases from Da Glue in order. And then I’m going to get that other project with Are on the way… and then I’ll get that music I’ve been working on during covid under way. 

 

Homecoming with Fehrplay

It’s “probably the most nervous” Jonas Fehrplay has been for a show in years. It’s his latest version of a live show called Oblique and besides San Francisco, who has only seen a trial version, Jaeger will be the first time he performs the show in its refined entirety. And more daunting than that, it will be on home turf, in Oslo. 

While most musical artists break ground in their hometown in their formative years, Jonas’ ascent to success followed a much different path. It’s almost a decade after making his debut with a track that stormed the dance music charts and put the name Fehrplay amongst the highest tier in dance music. It’s hard to believe that besides a short DJ set at Findings 2015, this will be the first time the Norwegian artist and DJ will perform in Norway. 

“It’s my hometown,” he says while taking a bite of a pastry in a French delicatessen in Majorstua. Friends and family, some of whom have never seen him play, will be there to witness the premiere of Oblique, and trepidation has taken root, but you wouldn’t be able to tell it, just by looking at him. 

Jonas Fehrplay is amicable, taking an unlikely interest in the person that’s asking the questions as he is in answering them. He’s the consummate professional and although he’s answered these questions a million times in the past he carries no sign of fatigue or impatience in his physiognomy. He’s not the type of person we often get the chance to interview at Jaeger as an artist working in some of the upper echelons of the industry, where he reigns amongst the top-charting artists of our time, but his excitement for playing the basement is palpable. 

Everything about Jonas Fehrplay belies his success however, and there’s something unassuming and down to earth about the artist that is probably ingrained in his Norwegian roots. 

 

Growing up in Norway, Jonas learned to play the piano in his youth and it was Trance music that first caught the ear of the impressionable youth. From there a “love” for club music cemented an early curiosity and Jonas found himself “drawn” to it, besides having no strong cultural connection to anything like a scene. 

Armed with the theoretical knowledge of the piano, he started making music on his computer as a precocious 12 year old. A computer and the amateur loop-based software called e-jay provided the arbitrary tools and he started making music in a collage-like form by “taking samples and putting them together.” While his friends were playing playstation, he “would be on a laptop making Trance or House or whatever,” burning his creation to CDs for the various house parties he would visit by night. “I always had two CDs when I went to parties,” he recalls through a slanted smirk “because someone would always break the first one.” 

The case was a little different when he was hosting his own parties in his parents’ basement. Hooking up his piano to a pair of decks he would “play piano over the records” in what he remembers as “full-on basement parties,” but yet he lacked that connection to a community that could develop this curiosity into anything more. Friends didn’t really share his interest, and he was left largely to his own devices, before leaving for the UK to study abroad. 

It was ultimately the experience of moving to Manchester at 18 that laid the foundation for a career in club music and paved the way for Fehrplay to exist. “Just being in Manchester changed my whole perspective on club music,” explains Jonas. “That’s where I kind of grew up.” 

In Oslo, he never really found an outlet or a community for his creative pursuits and his musical tastes lay more at odds with the people around him. “It was more commercial,” he claims. An academic move to the north of England turned out just what Jonas needed to develop his music and turn it into a fully fledged career. In Manchester Jonas spent his days making music in an apartment he shared with people he still calls  friends today, and his nights at places like the legendary Manchester club, Sankeys –  just a few footsteps away from his front door. “As a young guy,” he says, “experiencing music like that is very important – Getting out of your bedroom and out of your city.“ 

It certainly had an advantageous effect on Jonas’ music, because while still only eighteen years old he signed a track to Ministry of Sound’s label and released “Meow” onto the world in 2010. It was picked up by BBC radio and Pete Tong and put the name Fehrplay on the lips of many influential tastemakers in the industry. “I think I listened to that clip of him introducing me a couple of hundred times,” remembers Jonas fondly. 

Bubbling synth lines are punctuated by formidable bass stabs before building up to a transcendent crescendo culminating in an uplifting major chord progression. Jonas “perfected that record over the course of a year,” cementing not only a sound built on the influences of Trance in the era of progressive House, but it also encouraged the young producer to release more music.  

“Between that and now,” he says trailing off into laughter “there’s been a lot of shit.“ It’s subjective, I’m sure, because there’s a level of success that isn’t simply stumbled upon and he certainly has cultivated a distinct sound. You can still hear that same foundation of “Meow” in one of Fehrplay’s latest “Kiki.” There’s a progression through melody and form, touching on the visceral, as it builds and breaks down. It spirits the listener away to ecstatic heights through a disembodied vocal and there’s a gratifying immediacy to his music that’s approachable.  

There’s an element of uplifting mood underpinning music made strictly for dance floors, which has the ability to unite a crowd over the course of a theme while trying to retain that connection between the big room and the dark underground club that birthed this style of music.

“It’s always hard to describe your own music,” he considers when I put this to him. “I find myself somewhere in the middle, where my music is still accessible to a lot of people, but more of an underground thing.” He’s recently established Mood of Mind in that vein, a record label that has become something of an “extension” of the artist. Featuring artwork by his mother, it’s a very personal project where Jonas can put out music by other artists and the Fehrplay tracks that don’t necessarily fit the profile of another label. 

It’s “great to put out your own music whenever you want to,” he says and pandering to label demands can be exhausting. Instead of making music for another label in their specific aesthetic, Jonas is freer today in making the music he wants without the added pressure of a demanding release schedule. He didn’t however simply arrive at this stage, and had cut his teeth in a trial by fire at Pryda and Friends. 

After releasing his debut on Ministry of Sound, Jonas not only found the ear of Pete Tong, but also Eric Prydz, who quickly signed the young artist to his Pryda and Friends label. The label  was a definite springboard for his career, and Jonas remembers the time at the label as “rewarding yet stressful.” He had sent in a demo and it was pure luck that somebody at the Prydz camp picked it up at all. It encouraged that drive to release music by giving Jonas a platform to release his tracks, but after 4 releases the relationship ended in what he describes as a “sad situation” when they completely erased Jonas’ music from their catalogue.

It’s a “long story” according to Jonas and one that he doesn’t really feel like reiterating here, but what came from the ashes was a new record label in the form of Mood of Mind and a new relationship with a much more open record label, Anjunabeats, as well as a move back to Norway in 2016. 

Jonas and his wife had been living in New York since breaking through in Manchester, riding a wave of popularity, predicated by the rise of EDM in the states. As somebody working on the forefront of progressive House rather than EDM, “it was a nice outlet for people who didn’t want to see Tiesto,” he suggests of his success. 

Jonas had a few “amazing shows” at the beginning of his sojourn in the USA and it “sparked a lot of conversation in the industry there,” as his star rose over the western front. A move to New York followed and while Jonas by his own account, “didn’t like what the scene was becoming, especially when America got on-board with it,” he wanted to offer something different. Moving forward, he would find a lot of success in the US with his music and his performances, but a different life called to him in 2016 when he made the move back to Norway. 

He feels it “was kind of sad” when he had to leave New York for Norway, “because I was just getting into living in New York.” He reminisces fondly on driving over the Brooklyn bridge as the sun comes up over the horizon after late night studio sessions. “I was pinching myself; thinking is this real?” Alas a better job opportunity for his wife at home and a more structured family life for a newborn awaited them in Norway and the move back home was inevitable. 

At times it can feel “like stepping backwards” believes Jonas who also thinks it might have ultimately affected his creativity. It’s “motivating to experience new things,” he explains and  “moving back to a place I’ve experienced my whole life” might not be the best for an artistic disposition. The culture of a place like New York with its clubs and artists living in some bohemian enclave from the rest of the world, inspires on a daily basis. Then again priorities change and there’s also some positive elements to moving back home. In Norway for example “it’s more about having a good space to work in” today for Jonas. “Being able to build a studio and having my family close by” has motivated Jonas in other ways and in this dichotomy, Jonas has found a happy balance in his work life.

As the borders open up and the pandemic eases into submission, Jonas is already travelling again for shows and that experience he seeks will undeniably follow. Jonas ultimately considers the move back as a “good choice,” at least for the moment… 

The pandemic and the home studio has given him time to perfect his live show, much like the way he perfected “Meow.” He talks at length about the technical aspects of making it work and making that intangible connection between the recorded tracks and their live versions. It’s a daunting prospect for anybody, a show of this magnitude, including the visual aspect, and it can’t be any easier, doing it in front of your home crowd. He’s eager to see the project come to life, but the nerves remain nevertheless, predicated by the idea of that debut performance in front of family and friends. 

That validation of playing your first in front of your hometown, has always eluded Jonas. Usually you play the home gig before moving out beyond the borders, but for Jonas that never happened. He had established himself on the international stage and this next performance will essentially be his live debut in Norway. It’s Jonas’ homecoming, so to speak and it’s understandable why he should be nervous. 

*Fehrplay presents Oblique (live) in the basement on Nightflight, Saturday 16.10. 

Premiere: Ivaylo – The Walkers (Karolinski remix)

Premiering Karolinski’s remix of Ivaylo’s The Walkers… from the forthcoming EP 2020 via his Bogota Records label. 

2020 was the year that never happened. Many artists and DJs retreated into their introverted world, immersing themselves in their greatest passion only to be dismayed by the utter hopelessness of trying to release music; play a concert; or DJ during the exasperating circumstances of the pandemic. There was some solace to be found in the virtual realm of streaming, but that only lasted as long as the second wave before it too became over-saturated, and without that physical connection to an audience, unrewarding. 

There were a few however that persevered regardless. They continued to make music, perform and DJ against all odds, and in some many cases even managed to make an indelible impact in their field. Ivaylo calls these people the walkers. “The Walkers,” explains Ivaylo over an email exchange, “are those creative souls who went through that period full of positive energy.”

“The walkers” arrives this week on a new EP called “2020” from Ivaylo’s Bogota Records, as the full-pupp affiliate and Jaeger resident channels that positive energy into defining the spectrum of sound for the next era of Bogota Records. Created in the “pre-zooming” era of 2019 and completed in 2020, “2020” only sees the light of day in 2021, and as much as it calls in a post-pandemic age for the artist and the DJ, it was also a way for Ivaylo to ”get all these emotions of my chest.”

*2020 is out on Bogota Records this Friday

For the remix of the lead track, Ivaylo turned to one such “walker” in the form of Karolinski. The dub-techno artist and DJ has been a musical force, releasing music across the spectrum throughout this difficult time, and “The Walkers” finds the deep sounds of Ivaylo’s original submitting under her dub-infused charm of Karolinski’s musical idiom.  

Karolinski shapes Ivaylo’s track from the percussion up. “The Drums!”; she exclaims via email, ”that’s the only original sound I ended up using apart from the short vocal sample.” Bells ringing out in the vast emptiness of space, flicker in and out of our orbit as wispy noise and ephemeral synth lines build into a progression over an intricate tapestry of percussive instruments. There’s a feeling of distance coursing through the track, like a gap in the passage of time. It’s subtle and immersive.  

“I don’t know. I just wanted to tune it down, make it chill as well as danceable at the same time” explains Karolinski about the origins of the remix. Churning around 115 BPM and ineffable mood sinks in. In a similar fashion to her own music it simply started with a “synthesiser and kick, and then it just flows wherever it goes,” says Karolinski in a pragmatic exchange over email. 

She made it in a few hours, but hung onto it for a while until she could grasp the intricacies of what she created. “I then felt something for it,” she says and then handed it over to Ivaylo to find its way out this Friday via any good digital outlet. We’re eager to hear it in full and as a preview, we’ve been given the opportunity to premiere the track ahead of its release. 

*Pre-Order 2020 including this track from beatport.

See you on the floor…

The dance floor opens and all corona restrictions fall away as Jaeger re-opens fully.

“See you on the floor:” a simple epithet for a greeting that we at Jaeger have been using since time immemorial. Used flippantly and impulsively it had almost lost all meaning by the time the pandemic hit, to the point that it feels like we took it for granted.

After two years of not being able to say those words, the weight they carry today can’t be taken lightly and it gives us great pleasure to be able to say to you… “see you on the floor.”

In accordance with the latest corona restrictions you no longer require to be seated at a table or have one meter distance between you, allowing us to do away with those clunky, unnecessary things that have been taking up our dance floor. Our guests will be yet again free to move and free to mingle and free to express themselves through movement on our dance floor. It’s been a trying year for everybody in our efforts to find some median between these arbitrary restrictions and the essence of what Jaeger is, and it brings us great pleasure and relief to finally be able to do away with these “rules.”

As a result there will no longer be any table service and the bar is open for anybody to simply walk up and purchase something directly from our staff. There’ll no longer be that awkward middle ground between android and bar staff. It will most certainly be surreal to get back that point where we were before the pandemic and we look forward to welcoming you all back to the floor.

While the corona restrictions are now removed, we’ll continue to follow the situation and adhere to any changes in government and local policies, but only in a way that remains pleasant for our guests. Needless to say we’ll try to keep that as far away from our and your minds while enjoy your night with us across our two dance floors.

Yes, we have two dance floors again and we’ve already opened our basement for Fridays and Saturdays. As you might have seen by now there has been some changes happening in the basement and we’re able  to accommodate a bigger dance floor and more bass down in our subterranean sound lair. At the same time the courtyard will continue to host our resident DJs and a dance floor, and with new fixtures arriving in the near future, we’ll be spending some effort in creating a cosy and snug environment as the winter draws nearer, but more news on that later…

For now let us enjoy this new found freedom again and for those of you that came of age during the pandemic, we’re truly happy to be able to welcome you to experience club music for the first time. It brings us great pleasure to finally say… and undeniably mean… SEE YOU ON THE FLOOR!

Emerging at the confluence of art and club music with SGurvin

“The music scene, the club and the art scene are merging.” A few years back, this was a predominant theme in club music. Labels like Stroboscopic Artefacts headed by artists like Lucy were attempting to redefine the gallery as club space, channeling ideas from conceptual artists like Marcel Duchamp through a couple of grooveboxes in a warehouse space offering a backdrop like one Rauschenberg’s white canvas’. It was pure art for art’s sake and it felt like we were on the cusp of inaugurating Techno as a legitimate artform in the stuffy world of academic art practises. There was a spirited push to achieve this, but then as if the entire Techno scene realised there would be no economic advantage in pursuing these ideas, it just vanished into thin air.  

The art-world were curious, but unaccepting while the club scene turned their back on these musicians in favour of a return to the immediacy of the corporeal and hedonistic, leaving these artists and and their works stranded in a kind of elusive no-man’s land, where they’ve joined previous attempts from the world of Jazz, post-Punk, Noise, and Ambient music genres. Abandoned by most and admired by few, these attempts go largely unrecognised by the great art institutions, forever doomed to drift haplessly on the river styx between “highbrow intellectuals” and “lowbrow nonconformist” in a state of artistic purgatory, only to be appreciated years beyond their creation. On the rare occasions artists like La Monte Young and Ryuichi Sakamoto managed to wade through the bog to otherside as bonafide “artists”, but for most it’s a self-deprecating struggle against the tide with a singular motivation propelling them forward into the obscure. 

It’s here in this realm that SGurvin first emerged as an artistic vehicle for Sigurd Gurvin, but with a more fluid adaptation of the concepts above, he has seemed to emerge on the other side with EPs for Full Pupp and remixes for the likes of SYNK, in an effort towards a more accessible idea of this music as a consumerist artform, informed by ideologies like: “resistance to the institutions getting too much power over the art scene and the definition of the art scene.”  Sigurd sees “club culture as a modern folk tradition” with the emphasis on the folk aspects as some kind of social glue in the experience of the creative process that like most post-modernist before him can redefine “the black box as a way of thinking about the white cube;” in this particular case the club space as a gallery space. 

In the period between 2017 – 2019 he and Langagora (Henrik Langgård) realised the vision as EUFORISK, functioning as a club night series and a collective where the focus had been to “loosen up this white gallery idea of art, and see it more as a social sculpture… move the aesthetic approach to something that’s happening.” Today those ideas from the defunkt club nights has been channelled into a label of the same name operating as an “archive”, and as something that Sigurd can continue to carry with him in everything he approaches, from making music to performing a live-hybrid set and even releasing records for Full Pupp.  

Growing up in Moss, these ideas manifested early with the young Sigurd in the world of Hip Hop where he found a “form of expression for a culture of peace, love and unity” in the dusty beats of this black American music. “Trying to connect different aesthetics to make a culture and a community” Hip Hop became an outlet for his creative identity at first. He found a “guru” in the Moss music icon Don Papa. The eccentric Don Papa has been a significant character in Norway’s music scene, influencing Sex Tags as well as creating his own music under aliases like Pablo Pækkis and MC Helbrød, and with outfits like Flammer Danse Band. Don Papa became a huge inspiration to the young Sigurd, who admired the Don for his originality and his ability to “flip things” in a perspective unique to that artist. Taking his musical cues from the Don, Sigurd started seeking out an expression in Hip Hop before eventually moving towards electronic music.

After many years in Hip Hop culture, however he felt “ it was getting too strict” and needed a new outlet for his creativity. “I was making too crazy beats for the rappers,” explains Sigurd, and the Hip Hop community by that stage was getting bogged down in “too many rules” for Sigurd. He sought out  “alternative ways of thinking about music” and after various forays into Jazz, Punk and Trip Hop, he eventually found a voice as SGurvin in the experimental realm of electronic music repurposed for the club. After completing his studies at the Art academy in Tromsø, Sigurd started to “develop a musical language” alongside working with visual art.” He spent five years refining these concepts and ideas, and when the time came, coinciding with a move to Oslo, it first took the form of an altruistic moniker, SGurvin and later as EUFORISK in collaboration with Langagora

EUFORISK started out in 2017 to “put our own work in context,” explains Sigurd. He and Langagora aimed to create a collective in order to “bounce some skills” off eachother “and learn from the creative process.” They ended up “making a culture around it” based on the ideas of euphoria where they’d be “creating and healing through a bigger body.” The limited run of events in middelalderparken in Oslo became more than just a club night, it became “a meeting point for people and a mashup of art expressions” according to its creator. Unfortunately, bureaucracy got in the way, and unable to use the venue they’d established after it was bought out by the city, the EUFORISK RAVE club concept died. 

“The project isn’t dead,” intercepts Sigurd… “we’re on level two, focusing on presentation of videoworks, interviews and VJ/DJ-mixes” he says with a wry chuckle. It was never just about the club concept, and since its inception it’s offered a platform for Sigurd to release music as SGurvin. Albums like Turn/Return followed, in which Sigurd would explore concepts as personal motivations through abstract sonic experiments. “I see concepts as the motivation,” says Sigurd. “I want people to get something out of it, but I need a personal motivation for my ideas, that’s linked to my life.” Turn/Return follows the story of a relative that went missing only to be found later in Berlin, but at the same time, it deals with Sigurd’s artistic identity as he comes to terms with his own metamorphosis during this period. The kafka-esque concept is delivered in strikingly brilliant music where atmosphere and melody abound in the spaces between the concrete rhythms. 

Beyond the concepts lie a musical curiosity however, and while Turn/Return dealt with these heavy ideas behind the music, the EPs that followed like “Trouble every day and Evolving Times aim to create brighter rooms, but in a fairly similar soundscape,” according to Sigurd. In some cases like his latest collaboration with Krass (Krister Kollstad) on Full Pupp Ekspress it abandons the visceral almost completely for the sake of the context: “On Subway Rails EP, we had an idea to make a vinyl release for the dance floor.“ The record which was first conceived in 2018 after Sigurd met Krister trying to “break into the DJ booth” at a EUFORISK event, didn’t quite make it onto the vinyl format as a digital release, but the context is still there as a club-based record. 

Rapid fire snares exchange patterns with wooly kicks and dreamy atmospheres in what Sigurd describes as a record that is trying to contribute to what he refers to as “Oslo Tekno.” It’s “something not just for the dance floors and not that hard,” but something that could be enjoyed beyond the club space. It’s this ethos he’s taken to his other work for Full Pupp including the the SGurvin EP and with more to come through the label in the near future, it seems like the idea is solidifying the sound of SGurvin around the Prins Thomas imprint. 

“I am inspired by relating to people, formats and ideas.” explains Sigurd about his differing approaches to music in an email after our conversation. “With EUFORISK, the focus was on developing style, putting our own work in context, learning from others, sharing knowledge and creating a culture for different art expressions that meet each other. With the Full Pupp releases, there are other frameworks and principles that apply, and this has also been a great inspiration for me.” Inspiration has come from working with Prins Thomas, something Sigurd purposefully sought out, and collaborating with artists like Krass and SYNK on original music, remixes and sometimes club events.

Underpinning all of this from the recorded works, the activities from EUFORISK and the live show is a simple desire for motivation. “If you’re curious about making something with this motivation,” he explains, “it’s often more interesting than if you’re trying to make just Techno.” In cases like Subway Rails it might fit neatly in the context of Techno, but without that motivation that sense of experimentation you find behind the music, often leads to some deeper cognitive layer. In some perfect post-modernist interpretation it can certainly be taken at face-value, but just beyond that lies an ideology derived from culture and context. It’s not Techno as obvious loop-based functionality, but  a heady confluence of art and music, for those ready to seek it out. At the same time all of that is completely immaterial in the context of representation. 

As he continues to move “in the direction of dance music” through his SGurvin project, especially with Full Pupp, this connection becomes more tenuous compared to something like Turn/Return or Trouble Every Day, but with an artist like Sigurd, it gets increasingly harder to separate the work from the person, and as you talk to him you realise, that spark of something innovative or different that might have drawn you to his music, is only fully realised in the context of the artist behind the work. Ostensibly it might be nothing more than Techno, but from the first sentence he spoke that desire to reconstitute the gallery in a club his work as SGurvin remains infallible in the context of his conceptual pursuits.

It’s time to make some noise with Helene Rickhard

“It feels like now I have a chance to make some noise,” says Helene Rickhard over a telephone conversation, inhaling the sentence like she’s taking a drag from a cigarette. She’s just moved back to her hometown Arendal, and I imagine her sitting in some remote location on the outskirts of the southern Norwegian town in the midst of a sprawling record collection that consumes every inch of where she lives. 

She’s back in Arendal after spending years in Oslo, and like many of our peers, has used the pandemic to relocate and re-adjust. “The pandemic changed everything for me, and the lifestyle in Oslo changed a lot,” she says. “So I ended up selling my apartment there and bought a house in Arendal.” She’s still just settling into the familiar terrain, but she’s determined to use the opportunity to “focus more on creating music.” With concrete plans to build a studio in the new house and some vague plans to set up a label, Helene Rickhard is entering this new phase of her life with some excitement and some trepidation. It’s “scary to have all these plans,” she considers, ”and then you have to do it eventually.”

Over the last few years in Oslo, she’s  made a name for herself on Oslo’s music landscape as a DJ with a style all her own and more recently as an artist making music as an extension of that style. 

Helene Rickhard would feature on nights where the tone would be left of left-field, with a sense of intrigue and originality setting her apart from even some of the other DJs on the flyer. Sonic journeys through early synthesisers and drum machines conspire through re-constructed pop arrangements that live in the obscure shadows of synth pop and synth wave. There’s something nostalgic, even in the new music she plays, and she weaves these expressive tracks together in a cohesive mood that permeates through mixes like this latest, we recorded during Øya Natt in 2021. Foregoing the ubiquitous beat matching style of today, she plays each track in its entirety, giving the listener a unique introspective view of her individual tastes, which is in every set she plays, regardless of where she might find herself in the lineup. 

“I’ve always been an eager collector of music, since I was a child,” says Helene of the origins of these tastes a week after she played the opening set to Øya Natt at Jaeger. Growing up in Arendal to artist parents with a penchant for classical music, “popular music was extremely exciting early on,” for a young Helene. “It started with cassettes,” she remembers. “Making mixtapes via the radio” and buying tapes from catalogues a collection started to grow, which eventually included vinyl, cds and more recently MP3s and armed with all this music, you’d be forgiven for thinking a career as a DJ was just waiting in the wings, but that would only come much later… 

As a child of the eighties it was the “electronic sounds” of hissing synthesisers and dusty drum machines that set the tone for her earliest influences. When she eventually heard Kraftwerk, “it was mind-blowing,” and she dropped 7 years of piano lessons when she by her own account had “learnt nothing” to focus all her attention on getting her first synthesiser. With an early Korg synthesiser and Akai sampler manifesting around 15 years of age, Helene has been “tinkering with all kinds of synthesisers and computers” ever since. 

For as long as she’s been tinkering on synthesisers and collecting the exotic electronic sounds of electronic music, Helene has been “involved in the club culture” and has known DJs. She, alongside a group of friends “threw the first rave party in Arendal, in 1993” for example and although the fascination with Djing existed from an early age, back then Helene was quite happy to spend a night “on the dance floor and listen to other people” play.  

…“I was 35 before I started Djing,” recounts Helene today at 43 years of age. In a culture that has recently only seem to mature, 35 is still very young, but Helene’s experiences with making music and collecting records gave her an uncanny advantage in the DJing scene in Norway.  Yes, she’d been a recognised artist, working in the cold tactile environment of dark ambient, releasing records for the likes of Rune Linbæk’s Drum Island records and Center of the Universe’s Metronomicon Audio label before attempting to DJ, but what she developed as a DJ set her immediately apart from the others, due to her esoteric collecting habits.

“I was making music before I started DJing, because I was so scared,“ explains Helene of her delayed inauguration into the world of DJing. Fear of performing, didn’t stop Helene getting involved however, at a rudimentary level at least. She would make mixtapes for herself, and some of those made it onto soundcloud where eventually peers and friends suggested she should start DJing out. “I was like ‘oh no,’” recalls Helene, but after some persuasion she caved and thought, “I have to try.” 

She remembers her first set out, or more accurately she remembers the “black-out” that ensued. It was incredibly “nerve wracking” and she clearly recalls thinking at the time; “I never want to do that again.” Luckily she persevered and today she plays regularly, from club locations in Oslo to festival stages in Bergen. She’s featured on esteemed platforms like Lot Radio and Hjemme med Dama’s mix series and DJing has played a role in the drive to feature her original music on record labels like Snick Snack. 

She remains nervous when it comes to DJing, but she “prepares a lot” to overcome some of that anxiety. Pouring through her records, always “looking for something new to play,” Helene is a self-proclaimed “junkie when it comes to songs” and requires something new all the time. That’s the collector in Helene speaking. “If I bought 20 records one day it’s old the next day. It’s a kind of hoarding” she proclaims. “I hate going with the same bag to play the same set.” And when she says new, she means “new for me.” The “golden era” of music for Helene remains that period, most of us are too young to remember, but have some innate impulse towards. For Helene this is music made between ‘77 to ‘83 made from the early sounds of affordable synthesisers and drum machines. 

During the pandemic, without being able to go to a record store, she had to turn to the digital outlets and platforms like bandcamp for music. Through those efforts, she’s found newer labels and artists making the same music and she’ll often mix these pieces in with their older counterparts.  Even so,  “a lot of the new stuff sounds like it was played in ‘83” says Helene through a hearty chuckle.  It all actually sounds like Helene Rickhard. 

She is a unique entity in an increasingly homogenous landscape, and even while she goes through different phases in her musical tastes, her “self-indulgent” tastes never sound like anything else around it. “That’s some kind of personal thing” she remarks and “it has a lot to do with emotions” for Helene. Lately, she’s very into the “cosmic balearic sound, because, it’s very free” and she can piece elements rather than sounds together through her mix as she moves through uncharted territory of her own visceral response to the music. “Sometimes I find myself playing super weird stuff” says Helene questioning herself with “what the fuck am I doing,” but it’s all part of the intrigue of her sets, and often makes for some of the best moments in her selections.

She’s still fairly new to DJing in terms of playing out, so it is a constant point of evolution and education for Helene Rickhard, and from these warm up sets she’s played at Jaeger to “dance slots” she’s been enjoying recently, she is impulsively adaptive. “It changes all the time” with her “moods,” she remarks and a mood quickly solidifies around a selection of songs. This is why she also foregoes beat-matching in her mixes. “I’m more into moods and harmonic mixing, than the regular beat mixing.” she explains. Always one for “a bit of drama in her sets,” Helene considers herself “more like a selector” than a DJ, and while we know she can, she’ll avoid beat-matching in favour of creating some some sense of suspense in “musical connection between the songs” rather than a simple rhythm based link.

It’s a lifetime’s worth of musical knowledge coalescing around a couple of record players with Helene Rickhard echoing through every track. There’s something intriguing, mysterious and visceral of the past in every track, and while her sets might differ from one night to the next, there’s always something appealing and something new to explore through the rabbit hole of her extensive musical knowledge. 

Diving through a Helene Rickhard mix is a trip. It’s a journey through the personal, clouded in some abstract swathe of musical colour. Nothing concrete ever really emerges, but there’s a distinctive emotive quality to her mixes and by extension her music. 

Asked whether DJing has had an effect on the music she’s produced recently, she says “absolutely.” “I like a mysterious, psychedelic sound,” she explains; “A bit dark and I tend to like to dance to slower music.” Apart from featuring on a few VA’s over the last few years, Helene has yet to bring out an EP or even a single, but that looks set to change as she settles into her new home and establishes her new studio. She claims she has “tons” of unfinished projects gathering dust on her hard drive and she’s looking forward to getting them out to the labels that request them. 

The new home studio will be a place where she can work on music, unconcerned about noise complaints from the neighbours, and it seems that it might predicate a new creative phase in Helene Rickhard’s life. Labels are continuously knocking on her door, and having featured on compilations for Hjemme Med Dama, Snick Snack and Hærverk Industrier recently, her music has been reaching a wider audience. Imbued by a new confidence that comes from DJing, where she can “step a bit to the side and see your own music objectively,” she’s found it “easier to finish stuff now.” More importantly however it’s the sound of her sets that have started filtering into her music. Moving on from the dark ambient music she was making before, Helene feels she is “more sure about the sound or the aesthetics” she wants and like her DJ sets, it’s music that reflects her personality and her esoteric tastes. 

There’s certainly and ensuing noise to come from the artist, and even though she might have relocated, she’ll continue to have a presence in Oslo and Norway’s DJ scene. Between Djing and music, Helene Rickhard it seems, is only just getting started. 

This is House music: Introducing Henrik Villard

There’s no mistaking it for what it is… this is House music. From the emotive depths of the bass to the sparkling clicks of the syncopated hi-hats, there’s no confusing Henrik Villard’s music for anything other than House music. He’s been toiling away in the deeper registers of the genre since 2017 after making his debut on Nite Records and has stayed the course, pursuing a sound that pays homage to the roots of House music through contemporary voices. It’s a sound steeped in the traditions of House music and would do well coming from one of the genre’s older statesmen, let alone a fledgling talent like Villard’s. It’s a prolific talent at that with over a handful of EPs and a fair few singles coming from the producer in the first years of a still young career. 

“I try to make music everyday, because I just love to,” says Henrik about his prolific output over a telephone call. He’s been fortunate to get his music out there with a “bunch of labels that like the music” requesting releases from all over Europe and a select few like Mhost Likely, Moskalus and Two Five Six Records recently enjoying the privilege of releasing Henrik Villard’s records. “I feel that I’ve been lucky,“ suggests Henrik in what I can assume is only modesty, because this is more than luck. There’s something natural in the way Henrik’s music sounds with an instinctual grasp on House music from the first record to the latest.  There has had to have been a lot of work to get to this point in his career, which is especially remarkable for someone still in the grips of the early stages of a career. 

The House that Steely Dan built

Henrik Villard grew up in Kolbotn, a satellite town to the south of Oslo. His father was a music enthusiast and a fan of yacht rock specifically, soundtracking the son’s formative years on the saccharine sounds of the likes of Steely Dan. It took Henrik on a path towards rock music, and eventually towards heavy metal through his teens, when he first picked up a guitar and started plucking away at those fundamental musical foundations. “Playing by ear, and learning from the other kids,” turned into various afterschool project bands before he would eventually leave the guitar in its case, as the sounds of a new genre of music coerced him down another path. 

“At eighteen I got into EDM,” says Henrik. “Avicii and Swedish House mafia” was the turning point from the heavy saturated sounds of the guitar to the sterile pallets of electronic music. It was the sound of EDM that first drew Henrik to computer music and encouraged him to become a producer. “After hearing modern EDM music, I wanted to be able to create that sort of music myself,” explains Henrik. A youtube tutorial laid the initial building blocks and “it worked well and didn’t sound too bad,” he remembers today. “I guess if I were to open that project right now” he starts before trailing off in a contemplative chuckle. 

“Would you say you’ve drifted away from that kind of music?” I proffer. “Yes!” comes the immediate reply through a breathy laugh.

Around 2015 the music of “Amine Edge & Dance and their label CUFF”  drew Hernik away from those base EDM sounds to the roots of the genre and that “classic style of House” that he himself creates today. “To me they had a raw (in terms of energy) sound, ” explains Henrik, “and (although) it leans toward tech house to a certain degree – to me, their sound definitely took a lot of inspiration from classic house sounds (drum machines like 909 and 707, bass sounds from dx7 and such).” He “realised after a while that the sound was a bit too clean and techy” for him, and started moving towards something more “chilled out” sounds in the lo-fi arena where artists like Kaytranada lurked. Enamoured by these deeper sounds of the genre, Henrik applied himself to the internet for music theory and piano lessons, building on the little he knew of music from the guitar in a quest “to understand music from a technical point of view.” He “wanted to be able to play chords and notes” on the keyboard, jamming out “ideas with recordings“ and turning those into songs. 

A House of his own

It’s that craftsmanship for songwriting, built from human impulses that sets Henrik’s music apart from his contemporaries. There’s a slow-burning visceral mood that underpins all his tracks, and even while they might be built from loops, each loop is imbued with that human touch, bringing a sense of depth to the fore in his productions. Those instincts culminate across a series of EPs, the latest of which comes from Bergen record outfit, Mhost Likely. Bass lines carving deep trenches between kick drums lay deep foundations for sparkling keys and disembodied samples, cultivating a serene mood and humid atmospheres across three tracks. It’s his first release for a Norwegian imprint and it appears he’s in good hands with the label as Henrik can’t stop singing the young label’s praises. He “really appreciated how professional they are” in producing feedback and insists that this “was really essential in developing songs into better versions of what they were.”

With the next release coming from another Norwegian imprint called Klimakunst, Henrik is forging stronger allegiances with the larger House community at home after releasing most of his music on labels outside the country during the first few years. It coincided with a move to Oslo a few years back, encouraging Henrik to get “in touch with other producers in Oslo,” which has built itself into a small network of “other people with similar interests.” But it took Henrik a while to find a community of kindred spirits at home, establishing a connection to the community outside of Norway first.

It was around 2017 when he first started producing music with serious intent. Living in Trondheim at the time, he felt somewhat isolated from what was happening at home in terms of House music, and reached out over the internet to other producers. He quickly found a friend and mentor in the form of Finnish producer Selidos and after establishing a connection as a fan, Henrik sent him some musical ideas for feedback. Unbeknownst to Henrik at the time, Selidos was also the A&R man for a small American record outfit, called Nite Records, and while Henrik was looking for nothing more than constructive criticism, Selidos found something in the music that he could put out on a record. “I owe it to him” says Henrik about his first record, Takterrasse.

“That was the breakthrough in how I wanted my music to sound,” recalls Henrik today. Building on those House foundations, focussing on the deeper elements, with a human touch ebbing through the arrangements, Henrik Villard found a sound that he’s not deviated from since. “It just felt right after I laid down the main idea” for Henrik and it’s only matured and solidified since. Between the labels he wants to release on and the labels knocking on his door, there is no shortage of platforms for Henrik’s music. He doesn’t “know how to explain it,” but it’s given him the opportunity to focus much more on music. He’s gone from working full time to part time in an effort to spend more time on music, and the pandemic turned out to be “great in terms of getting more time to make music.”

Just hit play

Yet, even though he’s making more music, Henrik stresses “quality over quantity.” “I can take my time, and I don’t feel the need to put out music all of the time.” says Henrik. “You have to find the balance between doing a solid release and doing a lot of releases.” It’s this mantra he’s extended to his latest endeavour, a record label, event series and collective he’s founded with Anders “Clastique” Hajem. In his efforts to connect more to a local community since moving back to Oslo, Henrik found a kindred spirit in Anders, and the pair have set up a collective and a label Bitch Club Records. ”I think that’s what we’re called” says Hendrik hesitantly. “You don’t sound that keen on the name,” I suggest. “No, because I’m unsure how it will be perceived by anyone who hears the name… I like the abbreviation more.”

BCR, like everything, started with a chat over the internet. Exchanging ideas about music over soundcloud, an invitation to Anders’ studio eventually planted the seeds for a label and a collective to form. Hosting parties out of their Grünnerløkka studio at night and releasing records during the day, Henrik and Anders have established a small community around BCR over the course of the last year. “The idea is that we release music that we like,” says Henrik and theirs is a determined force. Encouraged by their similar tastes in House music, they are able to get the “music out there for everybody to hear” without the extensive waiting period that usually comes with putting out records on other labels. 

As the label started to come into ficus so did their events. What started as inviting “some friends over to play music all night long” from their studio, has  turned into regular occurrences of late. “That’s when I realised that I really like DJing,” exclaims Henrik. Besides making more music, he’s also used the time of the pandemic to hone those skills as a DJ through the BCR concept. He says it’s “a great feeling to see people react to what you play,” and while it’s always “hard” to play his own music, lately he’s “been much better at incorporating” his tracks in his sets recently. These sets don’t often extend outside of the BCR concept, but with an upcoming gig at Jaeger for Øya Natt alongside Olle Abstract, that is certain to change in the future. He’s nervous, but “looking forward to it” trying to “mentally prepare” for this set out of his natural “comfort zone” which is BCR. 

I am confident however that Henrik’s set will not disappoint. Between the music he makes and this conversation there is something reassuring about Henrik Villard’s work. It’s something familiar and comfortable. It’s simply House music and it’s rooted in everything he does. His music goes back to the roots of the genre, maintaining those essential formulas that will undoubtedly live on forever through each new generation, and now it’s Henrik Villard’s turn to fly the banner for the music tradition. And whatever he does next, here will be no mistaking it for what it is… this is House music.

It’s 3 O’clock in the morning – Are we saving a scene or an industry?

It’s 3 o’clock on a Friday morning and I’m still on the dance floor at Jaeger. I’m stepping my way through a heady onslaught of 909 kick drums and toms in what seems to be a perpetual state of motion. This is unusual for me. It’s just before the pandemic would shut us down, and  I rarely come out for the visiting DJs at Jaeger at this point, and if I do, I don’t stay beyond the first hour of a set. Something told me I had to be here. This is Jeff Mills of course, a bonafide legend, playing to an intimate crowd in what is arguably one of the best sounding rooms in the world at the moment.   

I have seen and heard Jeff Mills before, but it was a truncated festival set, barely an hour long, through a sound system unable to cope with a light breeze, let alone the relentless pressure of Mills’ brand of Techno. I don’t remember the festival, or even which country it was in, and as I write  this, I feel that it might even be an amalgamation of two completely different experiences. It’s one of many experiences since I started working in music that has been facilitated by an industry that has been homogenising the electronic music scene for the better part of a decade. Where something like Jeff Mills should be a rarefied experience, it’s become so ubiquitous, dictated by social media trends and an increasingly institutionalised music industry, It not only undermines the significance of the event, but has completely killed any possibility of a virile, localised scene to exist.

Where something should be an occasion it’s become an expectation, and this expectation has come to dominate an international industry where agents, record distributors, and the music media have dictated the sounds of the dance floor rather than your local DJ. Festivals and club nights, focussing on booking the same headlining DJs, have gentrified European dance floors and eradicated any claim for a sub- or counterculture to exist. Any remnants of a scene has been co-opted by industry in a universal definition that has whitewashed any chance for regional eccentricities to mature in the microcosms of the local community. With dancers and enthusiasts flocking to DJs, as dictated by mainstream media outlets, proliferated by PR and booking agents, it has left no room for anything close to a “scene” to survive unless they adapt to the same universal sonic approach.

It’s this predisposition in the belief that a ”scene” is a universal community, with its roots in one or two, remote origins like Berlin, that have taken the agency away from isolated, nuanced musical communities; free from the influence of a contemporary zeitgeist as proliferated by the extensive reach of the internet. In this culture, DJ bookings determine club nights rather than the residencies providing the platform for these visiting DJs to perform and exist.

Earlier that evening, before Jeff Mills quietly assumed his position in the booth, Daniel Gude was in our lounge, playing a heady mix of Jeff Mills classics; those tracks tame enough to facilitate a crowd just stepping into the evening. Daniel is aware of his audience as one of the longest serving residents at Jaeger and a dab hand at Thursdays. He gently eases the crowd into the event, playing those archetypal Detroit sounds, where elements of soul and funk channel reluctant machines beyond perfunctory demands. It’s the type of music that you would have heard any Thursday night at Jaeger, but Daniel wrestles the dynamic sounds toward temperate tempos and restrained volumes, accommodating the nascent crowd and encouraging them to move to the lower level, where local Techno stalwart, Jokke is currently playing through a determinable vinyl collection. The needle seems to saw its way through the pliable shellac, unearthing jack-hammer rhythms and sneering bass-lines. Jokke is keeping the beats per minute in the high 130s, greeting people to the floor, with waves and high-fives, people I recognise from other local Techno gatherings, but who I hardly ever see at Jaeger. 

There’s an unlikely bonhomie in the air for such an event. The cooler-than-thou Techno brigade, spending weekends in Berlin and weekdays trolling through Resident’s Advisor’s self righteous dribblings about music. The foundation is vibrating with low murmur to Jokke’s records, playing music from a collection that grew out of a savant-like enthusiasm for all things Techno. Jokke was an early adopter of this latest wave of popularity for the genre, as one of the people behind the Void club nights and for a while, Jaeger’s go-to Techno DJ. He’s played alongside the likes of Funktion, Sterac and now Jeff Mills; the vinyl enthusiast and DJ often out-shining some of the more expensive bookings. For the occasion he’s picked his way through the Detroit corner of his record shelf, fortified with rarities from the Underground Resistance catalogue. There’s some sympathy with his audience, giving them enough room to move, while slowly increasing the energy for his successor.

We’re all here for the main event, Jeff Mills, but without Jokke, and Daniel’s residency there would be no night to facilitate it. It can’t exactly exist in a vacuum, with the infrastructure of a local scene required to stage an event like this. In the background, Jaeger booker and owner, Ola Smith-Simonsen is aware of the risk of putting on an event like this, but he’s grinning. Jeff Mills is an expensive booking and even with a packed crowd, Jaeger is losing money. As a resident DJ with his own Friday night residency, Ola could have booked Mills for Frædag and have made a much more profitable night, but Retro and it’s weekly thematic pursuit in shining a light on the original vanguard in the electronic music community, made more sense. His instincts paid off. The night lives on in infamy for those who were there, and I still hear people echoing my thoughts as they conjure the night in their words; “when would you ever get the chance to hear Jeff Mills in a small club like this.”

Before the pandemic struck, Jaeger’s calendar was filled with more bookings than usual, because of that expectation of a “headlining” DJ. It was at a point where it seemed that bookings determined the quality of the night for audiences rather than the night and the space.  DJs playing loops from three decks or more in an endless reaffirmation of the 4-4 beat, forge flatlining soundtracks for perfunctory dance floors, with audiences either hanging over their shoulder in search track titles or completely disengaged as they stagger towards the next hangover or sexual conquest… whichever comes first. They are only here because the DJ has gained some notoriety of late; a track or online-set, together with some backing from notable label or media outlet pitching the scales in their favour. 

These DJs have become like the reality TV stars; fame is only a picture away and technology has democratised the skill-set to something like paint-by-numbers for adults. Whatever happened to the art of DJing? I was never truly convinced it was an artform and especially in the age of the CDJ, but some individuals have been more adept at programming a night of music for an enthusiastic dance floor than others. With a focussed, at times obsessive appreciation for music, they’ve managed to hone it into a unique craft. Many of these DJs are, or have been residents. They cut their teeth playing to the same audiences week in and week out, unlike the next generation who are coming to the fore, already “touring” before they’ve even seen the inside of a booth . Even the term resident has now become conflated as one of these DJs coming to the same venue three or four times a year. Those aren’t residencies, those are just sheer hubris from DJs believing their own hype. People didn’t go to Paradise Garage for instance to see David Morales, they came to see Larry Levan, because of his inherent knowledge of music, his relationship to his audience and the hands-on approach to the club and its soundsystem. Larry Levan was a pioneer in many of those aspects and that’s why his reputation still precedes him today. In Oslo DJs like Daniel Gude, Jokke, g-HA, André Bravo and Øyvind Morken are cut from that same cloth, even though they might bring different moods and sounds to their nights. n lieu of manufactured celebrity they had to graft at their work, garnering an innate bond between the music they play, the audience and the atmosphere. 

That skill is still there amongst some, but it’s been saturated by a virtual scene predetermined by social media and industry, where every middle class kid with a USB stick and a successful instagram account is a DJ today. The music has become mere surface noise to the celebrity of the DJ and as a result the music has suffered. I am rarely able to distinguish these DJs and their sets, as the music gets diluted down to its simplest forms so as to not supersede the ego of the DJ. There is no defining characteristic in music subjugated by their sense of artistic identity, imposing the culture of the DJ on the dance floor rather than the music. 

With DJ fees before the pandemic reaching an average of around €3000, not including the flight, the hotel and the 15% he agent asks on top of that, the industry has ensured to install the idea of the DJ as celebrity at all levels for the sake of their over-inflated economy, that makes a few key individuals richer on the back of the people sweating it out at the lower levels of club culture. Intentionally or not, this takes the necessary economy away from a local scene to thrive. It takes the job and the money away from an equally skilled, often better local DJ, who is forced into doing support or opening slots at a fraction of those fees, because they might not have the same social-media driven pull of their more expensive counterparts. How did we get here?

A status quo has been installed, calling the shots from Berlin, London et al. Perpetuating the idea that an artist/DJ with a release on a high-profile label, a featured article in an on-line magazine and a recent set at Panorama bar is somehow better than the resident DJ with years of experience and intimate knowledge of his/her crowd and club, the industry has forced the idea of the “booking” on smaller scenes in order to compete in an increasingly saturated economy. All over the world clones of Berghain and imitations of archetypal DJs (Harvey, Villalobos, Väth, Mills)  are increasingly narrowing the talent pool to familiar DJ rosters in the hands of a select few agencies. High-profile DJs dominate these rosters, garnering their position through irrelevant factors. While some of them, like the aforementioned in parenthesis, got to those positions through talent and as elder statesmen of the original scene, it’s become increasingly dictated by what a PR or booking agency deems their next big payday. A lot of the time the celebrity of a DJ is predetermined by agents, managers and labels who have a vested interest in creating a lot of hype around their DJs to get bookings, by buying their way in. 

This holds the position of power with a universal industry rather than a local scene and as younger audiences and new promoters and DJs come into music, this is the only model they know, and adapt accordingly, even in remote places like Norway. Those nuanced, focussed conditions that made it possible for a genre like Space Disco to exist, is no longer possible, since people are working within complete isolation of the internet, following a model of a club night and its music, which is not always that transferable in a different region and very rarely as good. For example, while those big-room Techno sounds that shake the cavernous rooms of communist-era factories every weekend might work there, they don’t work in a smaller room with fewer people and an early curfew. Those things that make Oslo unique and created the perfect conditions for Space Disco to exist are largely ignored for a universal approach, relayed down from the mountain of some indeterminable consortium of media outlets, labels and agents. 

DJs like the residents that graft every week at Jaeger, are of a dying breed and even DJs established in an international circuit like Øyvind Morken don’t find any room to operate within their own community, as younger DJs buck to trends directed by an increasingly institutionalised industry, where conformity to the most recent “hype” dictates their bookings and the music on the dance floor. Everything has become incredibly entrenched, and as the pandemic seems to ease out of its restrictions it seems that they’ve only fortified their ranks. Even the DJs, clubs and club nights operating on the fringes, are operating on the fringes of an extended universal scene with any idea of a community, barely existing in the superficial vacuum of social media. I simply can’t see a way out of this current situation. How did we get here?

It’s 3 0’clock in the morning and I’m on the dance floor. It’s 2008 and I’m in London’s east-end  at On the Rocks, a former working men’s club, which is the host for this week’s Trailer Trash event. One of the speakers on the left side has just blown, rattling in its enclosure like a klaxon in a plastic bag while the DJ, Hannah Holland is playing a blend of classic acid House and a new UK-based Ghetto tech sound she’ll later coin Batty-Bass. The lysergic 303 bass is trying to punch a hole through the noisy speaker, but the packed dance floor and the DJ seem unphased, pushing triumphantly through the noise as some promotor-cum-technician sets about replacing the speaker.   

It’s the recession, and yet I’m going out every weekend. Even though I’m already older than median age at the nights I attend, it’s one of the most exciting times in terms of clubbing for me as I’m catching the last intense flicker of a real scene before it’s almost completely eradicated by gentrified apartment blocks with pretentious names like “vanguard” and a street of “Urban Outfitters”  selling dubstep records. Plastic People is still there, but not for long as Shoreditch is already filling in the cracks with boutique clothing stores and gastropubs cropping up on a daily basis. On the outskirts however, Hackney Road, Dalston and Hackney Wick is brimming with a new young energy and something interesting is happening at the intersection of fashion-, DJ- and queer culture. The fashionable kids, having just read/seen Party Monster, are co-opting New York’s early party-kids aesthetic and together with a rolling roulette of local DJs are appropriating old man’s pubs, strip clubs, empty warehouses and squats to throw parties. All around London’s east-end music, performances and fashion converge every weekend for the students and new art-school emergés currently renting cheaply in council estates.

The recession is in effect, but everybody at these events is broke anyway. I have £20 a weekend, and I’m not spending £15 of it on the door at Fabric, to hear some over-paid DJ ego-tripping through a tone-deaf Tech-House set. I’d rather spend my weekends listening to over-taxed PA systems straining under the weight of ghetto tech, acid house and electro, playing in impromptu venues around my local area for a procession of ”freaks” moving on the dance floor like a catwalk, at the more affordable rate of a fiver (or free if you know somebody) on the door and £3 a drink. 

After a decade of clubbing being the sole domain of super clubs and superstar DJs this is clubbing and club-music going back to the bare-boned, white-knuckled roots of the scene. There is no headlining DJ, or specific musical theme, but everything from the flyer to the covergirl is imbuing the spirit of the party. Resident DJs, often playing extensive all-night sets cloaked in the darkness, do their due diligence, playing bass-heavy constructions while forging a sense of trust with their weekly/monthly audiences. The recession has levelled the playing field, killing off most of the big clubs in the space of a year, with only places like Ministry of Sound luring uninformed tourists every weekend; their prominence based on an ancient, hyperbolic reputation born before most of their punters. It’s broken club culture down to fundamentals again with a DIY attitude and people creating club nights for a community rather than platforms for headline-grabbing guest DJs.

It was an intense two-year period, where I don’t think I ever left the E2 postal marker, and it was its own little contained world and counterculture. Leafing through MixMag and DJ Mag at that time, it’s the fall out of the summer of new rave and Deadmau5 and Calvin Harris are grabbing headlines for their bastardisation of Filter House, while in the more serious “clubs” that innervisions Tech House sound is staking its claim. Dubstep has already been co-opted by the middle class elite at this point, and is facing a commercialisation that would see characters like Skrillex reaching billboard charts. On the margins however, avoiding the mainstream and completely disengaged with pop culture, while forging the next movement in popular culture, this period in London’s east end seems to exist in complete isolation. It’s uninhibited by the larger trends sweeping across the dance floor and it’s attracting people, who are living an alternative lifestyle.The naked reveller, the salacious sex fiends and the fashion kids, wearing American football garb as a defence against the conservatism taking a foothold in the UK, have created a verile counterculture and an actual scene for a short time in London’s east end, and unless you were there and part of it you wouldn’t have known about it. 

It’s almost impossible for a microcosm of a scene like this to exist today, even within a large population like that of London’s, because of the internet. With information being so readily available today, it leaves no room for a counterculture to exist. People will be writing about it before it even gestates, often with the fixed objective in creating a scene where none actually exists beyond a self-involved DJ. It’s why the term “underground” vexes me today. Nothing can truly be underground in the age of the internet, and if you’re using that term to describe your music or your night, it’s usually in some pretentious way that appropriates some original ideology, long-since unrealistic. What was originally underground culture is now popular culture… it has been for a while, and it’s been milked for the sake of an economy, and the only way we can get back to the community is for the industry’s demise. The only issue however is that there are too many invested in it for it to fail now. 

Those two years in London, Space Disco, the M25 raves, Detroit Techno, Chicago House and Paradise Garage, these were fleeting moments of brilliance in a history of electronic music that went to define cultures. They were never meant to last beyond the generation that installed them in their time of adolescence. Today however an increasingly profitable industry has commodified what should be a culture, with clubs, DJs and festivals lasting way longer than their expiration date. It has left no room for subculture to exist without paying its dues to the industry and the entrenched status quo of club music. 

It’s 3 0’clock and the dance floor is empty and the soundsystem is off. It’s the time of the pandemic, there was a lot of talk about saving a scene. But is it really a scene or simply an industry we’re saving at this point? Nothing seems to have changed and it seems that any promise of a pandemic changing this perspective is moot. Any delusions that we might have about some great cultural development should be realised for what it is. Everything from the music DJs make to their instagram profile is there simply to perpetuate the industry and I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we’re all complacent in it. There are some trying to use this time to reflect on these aspects, but I fear at this point it’s a fool’s errand. Already prominent Berlin DJ’s are packing carryáll bags with 20 records and a USB stick to take a flight to their next overpaid DJ gig. 

The industry is too big to fail now, and any hope of a new local scene flourishing in the wake is going to be reduced when those high profile DJs are back at it, propped up by the “cultural” institutions big enough to secure their hand-outs. These established clubs, magazines, DJ booking agents and promoters have the resources and the prominence to ensure they’ll survive. They’ll continue to put DJs front and center that they believe should be in the limelight, and it’s these DJs that will be running the “main” room again when things open again, and the local resident that had grafted all year to keep the place open and operating. The things that are going to suffer are not the big clubs with huge investors, it’s the smaller DIY communities that barely stayed afloat before all this. 

Perhaps the problem is the idea of a “scene,” a word that has been used perhaps too liberally in association with club culture, with its origins in something very specific. The Oxford dictionary still defines a scene as “a social environment frequented by homosexuals.” By that definition, the few places that can lay claim to a scene are nights like Horse Meat Disco or Honey Soundsystem, and like everything else, the industry has merely co-opted the term for the association. This culture might have been born from a bonafide scene with the likes of Frankie Knuckles and Larry Levan as the founders, but it’s long since been appropriated by an industry, using counterculture language and themes for the sake of commercial success, commodifying the term “scene” to where it can mean anything related to electronic club music.  

This isn’t a scene any longer, it’s a business, and like all business it is predicated on the economy of the music and its culture. For all its aspirations of being a truly independent culture, it now operates very much like any major record label with its subsidiary agencies, PR companies and management consortiums all working towards the same model. There’s still this glimmer of hope that rests with the next generation, the people coming of age during the pandemic who will have a completely different perspective on a scene. Perhaps out of the ashes of the pandemic, they can strive to build an actual scene again, a scene that will eschew the importance of the celebrity DJ and the commodity of club music, and will get back to the dance floor and that sense of community. 

I’ve seen flickers of brilliance from them just before the pandemic, and it seems to be growing from a few, but determined actors in Norway at least. I have a lot of faith that the next generation will start to negate the industry for individuality again. With a DIY attitude and a passion for music, they’ve taken to the forests, with an emphatic admiration for the music, bringing people together that share that passion. They’re doing it on their own terms, making stars of local heroes again, finding some sympathy with today’s sounds, bolstered by their own individuality and the voices of their generation. They’ve taken some cues from the last generation, but carting funktion one systems to undisclosed locations and with a community of DJs that extend beyond national boundaries they are also bringing a sense of professionalism that had sorely been lacking in the past.  

If anybody is going to stop the wheels of industry churning up what’s left of this culture and spitting it out for the sake of commodity, it’s this next generation. They’re the ones that will save a scene.

 

Words by Mischa Mathys

Deconstructed club music: A Q&A with KOSO CLUB

*Photos by Martine Stenberg

It’s hard to get away from the four to the floor music that dominates Jaeger’s dance floor week in and week out. House and Techno et al have made indelible impressions that have subverted most other dance floor styles from making an imprint and while rarely homogenous it can often be a little stifling for more adventurous and eclectic tastes. 

Wednesdays at Jaeger have long been the welcomed break from this status quo with nights that feign the conformity of the dance floor for something a little different and since 2019 KOSO CLUB have been an integral part of this weekly sojourn to the fringes of club culture and its music. 

KOSO CLUB has been carrying the banner for a more diverse club life for the past eight years. They’ve been highlighting those integral, but often overlooked voices in club culture through an expanding cast of members that are SOLDAL, SVANI, PIIKSIGRAM and HANNEKS today. With an alumni that extends abroad with names like Mike Q and Zora Jones, they’ve established an international connection to Oslo and Norway’s own club culture.  

In 2017 they were awarded NATT og DAG’s esteemed club of the year for their efforts at Blå, which have seen the collective tour abroad, and start new franchises like the one at Jaeger on select Wednesdays. It was one such Wednesday in June 2021, when they made their return to the Jaeger’s booth for the first time in 2021, bringing their idiosyncratic blend of “deconstructed club music” and ideologies to what was still a dormant dance floor.

Even under the ongoing corona measures, they continued their unwavering efforts to bring a femme touch to the backyard and assisted by magnus ah ok, they brought an ecelctic selection of scatter-brain rhythms and growling bass-lines in their unique interpretation of what a club night could entail. Hip Hop re-constructed in UK bass flavours and House music emerging through wavy indie soundscapes provided the soundtrack for a night under clear skies for the largely seated audience. 

With the memories of the music and the mood lingering, we caught up with them shortly after via email to get the lowdown on KOSO CLUB, their ideology and their musical tastes. With a radio show in the works and more nights to follow we unpack what the past and the future hold for the collective.

How did you all meet and what encouraged you to start KOSO CLUB together?

 KOSO CLUB is a branch that grew from the KOSO family. KOSO started out with a wish to see a more varied and balanced music scene that later included artists, designers, dancers and other creative people. Marit, who had been DJing for some time, started the club concept in 2013 with Juno Jensen. Svani joined in 2015, and Piiksi and hanneks in 2019.

 How long has the collective been around and are there any activities beyond hosting club nights that you’re involved in?

 KOSO CLUB is a brand and a group of DJs, we book nationally and internationally, and are always on the lookout for new impulses and ways to make each night stand out. We have been doing some fun gigs in Norway and abroad besides hosting our own club nights at Blå. We’ve done dj workshops with kids, made merch and hosted live events.

 You all DJ, but do you have set roles within the collective outside of the booth?

Piiksi is our own little in-house graphic designer, hanneks is holding on to our monthly picks-playlist, and soon to come a collab with a radio station. Svani is constantly on the lookout for artists and DJs to book to our club nights, and Soldal is holding it all together kind of like a CEO of KOSO CLUB.

 PIIKSIGRAM and HANNEKS joined after establishing the concept. What did they bring to KOSO CLUB, and will the collective continue to expand into the future?

Bringing hannkes and Piiksi in was a natural process of sharing the same passion for the music and club. KOSO CLUB is a dynamic hub and by bringing in guests we hope to give more people a space for their creative outlet and that our audience can discover new artists and styles.

 You describe the concept as “highlighting more femme people” in the club space. How would you define femme people in this context?

When we started out in our perspective the scene was lacking women behind decks, the word femme was used to include not only cis women. In later years we see that the representation should also include others, our main goal is to see a more varied scene and the creativity that follows it.

 How do you set out to achieve that objective?

We always try to be aware of representation when we book DJs/artists to our club nights within our musical universe. We want KOSO CLUB to be an inclusive and fun place and a space that can challenge the idea of what a club night can be. It is important for us that it’s a safe space for anyone who would want to join them.

 Considering club culture has been appropriated by a straight male culture, what are some of the obstacles you face in putting on KOSO CLUB?

In the beginning there were few role models to look up to but we think this has changed a lot since we started. 

 Does it look like the landscape is still changing?

Yes, we see a lot of different styles and DJs appearing in the club scene, not only in Norway, but also in Europe in general. That is great to witness, and we hope it continues.

How do you relay that objective into the music you play or the guests that you bring to the concept?

 We try to be conscious about our bookings, our track collection and what we are bringing to the scene in terms of representation and inclusiveness. 

 Is it something that extends beyond the musical component too?

 In general we like everyone to feel at home at our club nights whoever they are. So it is also a social perspective to it. 

 When you play at Jaeger it’s nice to get a break from the four to the floor that dominates Jaeger’s weekly lineup. Is there a style or mood to the music you play that underpins what KOSO CLUB is about?

 We play a lot of deconstructed club music, and mix different genres, but we try to divide it into a chill mode and a club mode so the concept can work both sitting down as what we’ve done after the rona situation or in a dark club as we hopefully can do soon!

 Do you ever feel that you have to adapt the concept or what you play to Jaeger’s audience, current circumstances notwithstanding?

 No, actually we stick to the style we usually like to play. But, of course, we have to adapt to “sittedans” nowadays – we save our hardest tunes until the club is completely open again.

 How has the music evolved since the start of KOSO CLUB?

We think we have been in the same musical vibe since we started. But we are always checking out new artists and when they evolve our sound evolves also. 

 As we get back into it in 2021, what and who are you looking forward to bringing to KOSO CLUB in the near future?

Right now we’re dreaming of a packed club full of sweaty people, and we are hoping to do a radio show. We have a lot of people on our international booking-wishlist so hopefully we can proceed with actually getting them here in the future! 

 

Urban Psychedelia: Has Techno assimilated Goa Trance

There’s a great big honk as a saw tooth synthesiser stabs a chord and dissipates into the veil of the surrounding ether. The atmosphere is dense enough to sustain life and melodies echo through the entire arrangement like moths to a flame, landing on something familiar before fluttering off into distant resonances. There’s mystery, intrigue and a solemn wonder contained in each phrase, unfolding like a David Lynch narrative with a little more purpose. 

I’ve heard this sound before. It’s slower and it’s missing a semi-quaver bass-line running through the whole arrangement like a freight train, but the similarities are striking and there’s no doubt that whatever we’re listening to today lends as much from the psychedelic offshoots of Goa Trance as it does from Techno. I’ve been hearing these sounds echoing through Jaeger’s dance floor, as the city descended on our enclave this summer. It’s evocative of a sound usually found in the forests around Oslo or the beaches in India, propelling tie-dyed writhe figures to ecstatic heights as devil sticks and ribbons dance an improvised ballet in the air. 

It’s always feigned the urban for the natural, but in its new hybrid form it has found a rhythm in the city propelled forward by the more dominating foundations of Techno. It’s been propelled into the mainstream, by a new generation of DJs with the predisposition for the hippie lifestyle, growing up in the harsh urban landscape of a metropolis city, and like its predecessor, born in Goa, it borrows indiscriminately from a vast array of musical genres in pure escapist hedonism. 

Melodies touch the firmament, echoing at times space disco’s sonorous voice, while rhythms thump in militant measures to the wide-gated stomp of its audience. It’s unsure how or when these sounds started infiltrating Techno or if in fact it’s not the other way around, but as the week rolls by at Jaeger it’s a sound currently dominating the speakers through various, unrelated club nights and residencies. 

From the first moment man put stick to skin, music has always been about touching those hedonistic heights, and nowhere else is this better elucidated in Goa Trance’s origins; A style of electronic music, associated with a specific destination in pure pursuit of relinquishing the shackles of conformity for a pure spiritual pursuit. DJs and party goers alike have completely disappeared into the music and the aura of Goa Trance, with tales and legends born from fleeting characters that have immortalised the spirit, rather than a single individual. Figures like Laurent and Dr Bobby, armed with little more than a pair of walkmans were the pioneers, and while few have heard these names, everybody today exactly knows what Goa Trance is and what it stands for. 

It’s never really been about a specific style of music. Trance as in the German version of Techno, had been there before, and Goa’s earliest soundtracks have ties to the industrial synth pop sounds of Europe in the eighties, but combine this arching melodic sounds with a group of people imbued by sixties hippy romanticism in one of the nature’s most idyllic locations and you have something that extends way beyond any music. It’s a spirit and that spirit lives on today in a youth culture on their way to an enlightened trip. 

It could well have started in Berlin… don’t all things? German Techno and what we call Trance today, has always enjoyed a fluid relationship, but I believe spurred on by cheap bargain bin records, and an enthusiastic desire for something new, it’s now found a footing on an international stage. It’s moved out from inconspicuous shadows for niche audiences, to places like Jaeger, with DJs like Safira and Lente and their extended network of DJ cohorts perpetuating  the sound while new institutions like UTEKLUB continues to burr with the spirit around Oslo’s forests. 

This summer it’s started making further ground in Oslo too as weather and nature merge in the perfect backdrop for this music and this spirit to live on. Through this spirit individualism makes way for the unifying tether of music with spotlight-seeking identifiers disappearing in the wake of sardonic titles looking for an open platform. It’s an un-choreographed dance between a piece of music, a DJ and an audience, grown from something organic into a unified entity, where no-one thing subverts or dominates the others. 

Now, it lives beyond the forests and beaches of its natural habitat and has found a new place in the city, a true hybrid of some of electronic music’s most important chapters and looking well on its way  to writing a new chapter of its own. 

 

Back in Business: A mix and interview with Skatebård

Over 3 hours of uninterrupted Skatebård recorded live from our sauna.

You couldn’t keep Skatebård out of a DJ booth before the pandemic hit. The Bergen DJ was playing at least three times a week, travelling all over the world to some of the scene’s most revered and established venues.

Observations from his vigilant agent, queried the sustainability of Skatebård’s work ethic, with Bård dismissing suggestions of “taking a break” with playing more, and more frequently. By the time the pandemic hit he had been one of the most in-demand DJs on the scene. His amenable personality in the booth, where accessibility and function permeates with hedonistic pleasure, has secured Skatebård as one of the most prominent fixtures on the DJ circuit.

Then the pandemic hit, and Skatebård, like all the other DJs, was forced into the hiatus that followed. His indelible presence in the DJ booth, before proved to be prescient, and while DJs scrambled to social media streaming platforms, the Bergen-DJ could comfortably retire to his sofa with a good book and wait out the storm.

He kept at it, consuming new music where it informed his sets and honing his craft even further from his home-based hi-fi DJ set-up. He continued to play select dates, even making an appearance in Jaeger’s basement in 2020 for what turned pout to be the last night we could be open until 3am. Ultimately travel restrictions and lockdown rules had forced everybody, including Skatebård into forced hibernation.

Efforts to get him back to Jaeger when we could were left unsatisfied as quarantine measures and lockdown rules got more extreme during the winter. Eventually we had to take a page out of a Skatebård’s book and resign ourselves to the sofa, to wait out the storm.

The storm eventually dissipated and when we opened up the sauna in May and by Skatebård was on a very short list of guests we wanted back. By June he was int he sauna again, back in business, answering the call to the dance floor in pure Skatebård fashion. As our first guest outside of Oslo, there was a noticeable anticipation in the air and as Skatebård he didn’t disappoint. We pressed record and sat back and listened in awe at the enduring DJ.

It’s with great pleasure that we can present this recorded mix to our Mixcloud select subscribers today. Listen to over 3 hours of unadulterated Skatebård, while catch-up with the man behind the controls in a brief Q&A.

How does it feel to be back in business?

Feels really, really good to be playing again. But… It’s a while yet before full on travel will be possible.

What’s been the most challenging thing coming back into it after such a long hiatus?

It’s just a joy, I’ve been finding a lot of music to play in the last few months, that’s all I’ve been doing, so I’m just so ready to play all these tracks.

What did you have planned for this mix at Jaeger?

I entered the booth (tønna) with an open perspective, I can always go in many directions. But you know, my style is pretty eclectic most of the time anyway.

Did it go as planned?

It was a lot wilder actually, I was expecting maybe a more laid back night, I didn’t even know dancing was allowed in the backyard yet! With one meter distance though, mind you. But was a super energetic vibe.

I don’t think I ever saw you not smile throughout the night. What is it about a good night like that, that just makes it all worthwhile?

I was super happy, my first visit in Oslo since last August, and even a few of my band colleagues that I hadn’t met for almost two years showed up!

There’s a bit of everything in there. Was there a phase or a track that was a personal highlight? 

I was especially looking forward to playing Pais Tropical – Melodya. That piano riff… And a couple of other newly acquired italo house records. Well of course also some brand new tracks from friends!

Do you feel you’ve had to adapt or change the essence of a Skatebård mix in any way to accommodate the situation?

I always adapt a wee bit to any kind of party I play, but I mostly just play whatever I feel like anyway.

I saw a post on instagram suggesting that you’re ready to hit the road again. Is that the thing you’ve missed most?

Suggesting yes, but I also think I wrote something about that I don’t rush it either, so in the next couple of  months it will only be like a gig or two abroad a month, and outside Europe will be difficult for a while, I guess. But I appreciate everything! If you’re reading this and would like to book me, just contact my agency and we can work something out.

How do you think the DJ scene will change going forward from this, and what are you personally looking forward to in the near future?

I think that from both travel restrictions and economic perspectives, that parties will stay a bit more local for a while. That’s been my thought during the pandemic. In the near future I’ll enjoy the Norwegian summer, and I’m also very much looking forward to a festival in the Faroe Islands in the middle of July, then Trevarefest (Henningsvær), Summer Contrast Festival in Poland and Dekmantel Selectors in Croatia.

I can also add Festifest, Amsterdam, DGTL, Amsterdam, and Night Tales, London to my list of stuff looking fwd to. All in August/September.

Everything for the vibe: Introducing SYNK

There was a tangible excitement in the air that first week back at Jaeger. People were still resigned to their tables and the volume was tempered, but the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. “You could tell it had just opened again,” says Ida Stein from SYNK a week later. “People were so positive.” Warm welcomes precipitated through the bright night as old acquaintances were re-affirmed and social human contact re-established. 

“It was great to see people again,” says Naomi Camilla, weaving between her cohort’s sentences like they were going back to back in the booth as SYNK. They came prepared on the night, “hoping to play some electro/break-beat stuff” for the mostly seated patrons, but quickly realised that it wouldn’t work as an eager audience demanded something more energetic and the pair “jumped over to a House vibe.” Moving through the great expanse of influences that informed House music they set a distinct path through the genre, capitulating to the mood.

Mix now available to Mixcloud Subscribers

That mix is now sealed in time, and listening back to it today, it marks a very clear objective and concrete statement for the future of the dance floor after the pandemic. At a time when you’d think slower tempos and reserved energies would prevail, an obvious desire for the sounds of a  dance floor undermined the situation and SYNK acquiesced with a set that felt both urgent and inviting. Melodic flickers from disco’s earliest influences charmed alongside pulsating rhythms that moved through Garage, Acid, House, Trance and Electro phases.

SYNK has been a DJ duo since 2018, and while the pandemic has claimed the dance floor for the moment, it has shown no signs of slowing the duo’s progression as a formidable force on the Norway’s DJ scene. They added producer to their list of accomplishments after releasing their first single “Lykkemaskin” on Prins Thomas’ ever-present Full Pupp label in 2020 and have since been playing regularly around the country; made mixes for European radio stations; established residencies; worked on more music than ever; and most recently, started a new club night in Oslo. It’s ahead of this first club night at Mir, that I call Ida and Naomi up for a chat. 

They’ve found a shady spot in a park to take my call as Oslo’s early summer continues to cook the city, and while a tad nervous – “we have never been interviewed together”  – the pair are chipper and easy to talk to, the best kind of subject for an interviewer whose muscles have atrophied somewhat during the pandemic. 

Unlike me, however, Ida and Naomi have been busy and Ida suggests that they’ve “developed more into a producer duo in the last year,” in large part due to the pandemic. “We had these good vibes together and really wanted to dance,” remembers Ida of the moments right after the first lockdown. “Like other people in the club scene we really missed it… so the pandemic times really started off making some really danceable harder tracks…” “and some ambient tracks,” chimes Naomi from the other side of the phone. “It went through periods in the pandemic,” recalls Ida. “It felt like we went through an emotional musical trip together.” 

A “quarantine soundwave” playlist on their soundcloud page holds a remnant from this period. A chugging atmospheric track called “be my quarantine” is all that remains unclaimed by future releases and showcases both similarities and differences with their breakout single “Lykkemaskin.” Building on those eclectic notions they’ve formed in the booth together, they’ve channeled their music through an individual approach that focuses on inviting melodies and cosy soundscapes punctuated by challenging, percussive movements. “Our style is pretty eclectic as a producer and as a DJ-duo” confirms Naomi and while the pair call on a vast array of sounds, genres and styles, there’s an underlying feeling to their sets, which generally lends itself to the music they make today. In an email later, they confirm my suspicions that it’s something that they’ve both cemented from an early age in their individual musical experiences.

Ida and Naomi both grew up in what they consider a “small town” called Sandefjord. Both had taken an early interest in music albeit from different points of view. While Ida was “drawn into singing very early,” Naomi was an avid listener, consuming all she can from Beyonce to Dimmu Borgir. At around the age of 11 Naomi’s dad built her a dance studio in the basement with “some cheap speakers and different kinds of disco lights” encouraging the impressionable youth towards electronic dance music. She would be “dancing like a crazy person to Benny Benassi” in her basement enclave she remembers fondly today. 

Ida, it seems, took a slightly different path as an insular artist “creating her own world” through mediums that ranged from dancing and singing to “painting and writing.” It was pure expression at a time when “you sometimes as a kid feel like nobody else understands anything,” remembers Ida of the experience today. A microphone and a guitar fed that expression into music, where a laptop and synthesisers awaited just beyond. Ida played in bands and eventually moved into electronic music through electro-pop as an established solo artist before meeting Naomi and forming SYNK. 

Ida feels those early introverted childhood experiences evokes a “nostalgic feeling” when she’s on the dance floor today, “cause one can get so brought back to that space – just that you’re not alone in it.” Although she is still working on her solo output which maintains an electro-pop aesthetic, Ida is also working “more and more” on SYNK as well as collaborating with Naomi on her solo work, having “merged” their artistic identity as SYNK.

They would eventually meet while Ida was a booking manager at Kurbadhagen and Naomi started DJing. Naomi had “been that girl at the party” for a while; the girl with all the music and an innate ability for musical narrative in a party setting. A few DJ friends encouraged her further and she found herself at Kurbadhagen in Sandefjord struggling to plug a pair of turntables into the predominantly digital setup. “I was super nervous,” remembers Naomi of her first gig  “and was asking Ida where I should plug in my record players.“ 

The pair became friends and started DJing together, bonding over Scandinavian Disco before quickly absorbing their individual eclecticisms. “It’s the feeling I guess and the feeling drew me in,” says Naomi with Ida re-iterating “the vibe” that continues to flow through their sets and music today. 

Moving from DJing to production, Ida and Naomi’s roles are more fluid than most DJ-production duos, sharing responsibilities based on practicalities. “I think because we use two different DAWs (recording platforms) we change between one of us setting up the recording and one of us having an analogue synth,” explains Ida who would be the more accomplished musician of the two, and who I had assumed would take on more of the technical roles in their music. That’s not the case however and as Naomi has just finished her first year in a production course in Oslo, and they’re working more remotely between Oslo and Sandefjord the dynamic in the group is more fluid than the general DJ-production duo.  

Things just “seem to come naturally” for Ida and Naomi when working together, and it’s something that had cemented itself early on in their working relationship. Going from Djing to production was effortless too. While  “drinking some beers” in Ida’s studio, something just clicked and the ideas just came “super naturally” to them. I ask if it’s easier with SYNK than with Ida’s solo project which relies on structured forms and defined melodies and Ida thinks about it before replying:I feel like it’s easier to just jump in and do it with SYNK. When we produce together, it can just happen a bit spontaneously and we’re a bit more free.” 

It’s that freedom that gives them the ability to forego style, genre and categories and produce everything for the vibe. “We started out without defining it under a certain genre,” explains Ida and they “just started off with a vibe… just experimenting.” It’s an attitude that allows Ida and Naomi to “produce what we want to” from the effervescent space-disco of Lykkemaskin to the thunderous onslaught of rhythms of their newest remix of Nattl4ampe’s “Nejjjj.” That remix for the Mhost Likely label is the first of a string of releases waiting in the wings according to Ida and Naomi.

As well as an EP on Full Pupp there are also those missing songs from the “quarantine soundwaves” playlist, and that’s just the news they can share with me right at this point. With club nights and some residencies that should come back after the pandemic, SYNK are sure to expound on their success in 2021. There’s a lot to look forward to from this young duo with established artists and tastemakers like Prins Thomas picking up early on their talents. For Ida, those things and the releases have at least confirmed some feeling that we were on the right track,” dispelling insecurities that they’ve both shared. 

Even so “the tracks we are working on now are a bit different from Lykkemaskin,” warns Naomi and that’s the confirmation transforming into confidence as the pair delve deeper and further into that eclectic realm of their mixes and merging as an artistic unity called SYNK.  

We’re Open!

We’re open Wednesday to Saturday from 16:00 -22:00 with DJs from 19:00.

We’re open! After what seemed like the longest winter, we’re back and the bass bins have been purring along beautifully this last week. As our residents and their guests have been re-familiarising them with the booth, we’ve opened the courtyard just as the  the sun started bearing down on Oslo. After a couple of weeks of spit and polish and a will they won’t they see-saw of emotion as Oslo kept delaying the eventual opening, we’re getting back into the groove and what Jaeger and the DJs do best

We’re open everyday from 16:00 with DJ’s every night from 19:00. Residents G-HA & Olanskii, Finnebassen, BigUP!, Prins Thomas and Ivaylo have thoroughly run the system through its paces with guest appearances from SYNK, Christian Engh, Kompressorkanonen and Spacebear adding to the excitement. The consensus is unanimous, we’re back in no uncertain terms.

There are still covid-19 protocols in place, but they are changing on a daily basis and we’ll keep you informed here as to how they develop. Please observe our cautions at the venue, and we’ll keep eking out the night and the volume as our lives slowly return to some sense of normality. We’re back and it’s good to have you back. You can check our programme page to find out what’s happening in the courtyard.  see you on the dance floor real soon.

PS.: If you’re the person in the picture, please get in touch with us at editor@jaegeroslo.no.

Greetings from Jaeger: We’ve been hibernating and dreaming of a dance floor

There’s a picture of an empty Jaeger basement that encounter on my computer every so often. It was taken late 2019, and the empty void lingers indefinitely in a reality today where the pandemic has taken an immense toll. Had I known it would be one of the last pictures I took of the basement, I would’ve waited for the crowd to flood in through the doors at least. The empty void is a stark reminder of the reality we find ourselves in, and god knows I hardly need a reminder…

None of us could’ve predicted the science fictitious reality that is 2020/21, least of all me. I remember listening to Jeff Mills in the basement only a few weeks before, like nothing in the world could touch us. And when Jaeger closed its doors for the first lockdown almost a year ago, I was naive enough to believe this would be nothing but a blip, and by the summer we would be back in business. Ola Smith-Simonsen was more pragmatic, saying “the optimist in me hopes that we’re drinking a beer at Øya festival in 2020.” Øya never came and summer went and now in the middle of winter, the dance floor is still in the abstract and the basement remains empty with a faint glimmer of hope that we will be back there in a couple of months.

Although if you’re inclined to believe the pragmatic Germans we’ll be lucky if we’re back to business as usual by the summer of 2022. That makes for some grim reading, but Ola is already hard at work towards a tentative start in May 2021 with a host of Jaeger residents and close friends in the booth again… fingers crossed.

Those first events in 2021 will come almost a year on from the first lockdown and Jaeger’s gone through many different phases since. Ola and co. have done their best to accommodate erratic measures subject to volatile infectious rates, to retain some semblance of a dance floor. From the lenient – listening to DJs till 3am in a seated position – to the downright drastic – the revocation of the license – Jaeger has remained steadfast in its pursuit of the dance floor and its music through some of the most extreme circumstances any of us has ever lived through.

Yes, it’s official… we’re living in the matrix today. We’ve taken a collective xanax disguised as a red pill and our lives have played out online in some virtual reality of our lives. From the uncomfortably safe confines of our “hjemme kontor” we’ve done everything from work to socialise and I’ve personally had enough. Those initial zoom “parties” and streaming sets all seemed so innocent at first, and now we’re stuck with them.  Even the bears had enough at some point. We’ve encountered some inspiring and some questionable actions in pursuit of a dance floor and a sincere focus on local musical talents in lieu of an international industry breathing down our necks. We’ve seen the human spirit eager to adapt to any circumstance and what became abundantly clear through it all is that no matter in what regard the conservatives of the world might perceive this music and its audience, the salient through is that it is a culture and its a stronger unifier than any “dugnad” could ever be.

We are a culture of people with introverted tendencies, and for many of us this is our only social contact with the rest of the world. As we’ve gone deeper into the pandemic we’ve become more reclusive, dreaming of a dance floor and for many our only connection to the outside world. The winter has been some of the most trying times, as we’ve become ensconced in our personal record collections and fond recollections of a heaving dance floor and an indomitable sound system that are now littering instagram feeds like NFT breadcrumbs back to a time when we had some dignity. Those “insta-memories” just don’t do it justice. The visceral sense of freedom that the dance floor instils and the primordial energy that ebbs and flows through a room like Jaeger’s basement is unique to the physical aspects. As Charlotte Bendiks quite rightly put it a few months ago on the very blog:“Music is such a physical experience.” It requires a physical presence and it in most cases it demands a physical reaction, a corporeal expression.

I wonder what the lasting social significance of the dance floor might be after the pandemic? As DJs and producers get older, have children, they’ve undoubtedly come to some serious introspective conclusion, which might even lead to a total abandonment of the culture for a career in… god forbid… marketing. What about the next generation in club music, surely this leaves very little incentive to indulge a hobby or a leisurely pursuit? What about the people that have been able to scratch a meager living from this culture? If the powers that be have their way, we’ll all be quietly compliant in our induction into the temp workforce.

One positive thing that I hope will make a lasting impression is the re-appreciation for the local DJ; s/he who through it all has remained a steadfast tastemaker for the dance floor in any shape or form, at risk of his/her own health during the time of the pandemic. Ola Smith-Simonsen has ensured Jaeger has done its fair share in providing a semblance of a living and a cultural verification for the local DJ during these trying times, and it’s something that he hopes to carry over past the pandemic. Because regardless of what people will have you believe, this is still a culture, and even when it gets corrupted in an industry there are still individuals and institutions pursuing a cultural pastime on a dance floor.

Under these most stringent lockdown measures for the last three months, that’s the crucial ingredient we’ve missed. Jaeger is not a bar, or a café, or a restaurant. The dance floor is where the culture cements itself, and that’s where the pandemic has hit the community the hardest. The dance floor was the first thing to go and it will by all accounts be the last thing to open. We’ve tried to accommodate the lockdown through all its different stages, even go as far to have it open without a license, but the there’s always been something missing and that is the dance floor and the people on it.

There might be some tentative plans to re-open in May (even without serving alcohol), but even then the dance floor is still a pipe dream until the vaccination process is completed and it is confirmed to work. We’ll try to open as soon as we can however, just to keep the pandemic profiteers from the door and ensure a future for a scene. Until then we’re dreaming of a day on the dance floor.

see you there…

Mischa Mathys

Norske Byggeklosser: Bjørn Torske introduces Trym Søvdsnes

It must take something special and unique for Bjørn Torske’s ears to perk up. The DJ and artist has cemented a legacy in House music in Norway, with a career spanning the great expanse of electronic club music as one of its most celebrated sons. 

From the small university town of Tromsø he was one of the first wave of DJs bringing this music to fjordian shores, and one of the first artists to export it beyond the country’s borders. As he moved from Tromsø to Bergen, he not only established House music in the region, but also played a significant role in establishing an individual Norwegian identity in House music, often referred to as Space Disco. 

With albums that rank in classic lore and DJ sets as intuitive as they are surprising, Bjørn Torske is nothing short of a legend in music. With credentials like these, when Bjørn Torske’s ears perk up so do ours, and when Ola Smith-Simonsen (Olanskii) proposed a Norske Byggeklosser event, Torske had a wildcard poised and ready.  

Trym Søvdsnes was his choice, and together they represent the establishment and the future of a flourishing Bergen music scene for House music and Techno. They’ve have been regular acquaintances in the booth, most notably sharing the bill at this summer’s Sofa House events in Norway.

Søvdsnes is a vinyl enthusiast with an eclectic approach as mixes he’s shared online demonstrates, drifting between the more abstract corners of House and Techno, blurring the fringes of dance music and listening music. With a focus on mood and energy he brings a dynamism to the booth that harks back to the classic roots of club music, the very same roots Bjørn Torske helped seed in this arena. After playing together as DJs, Torske and Søvdsnes expanded their collaboration to the studio when they remixed a track for Diego Carpitella’s album “Tarantismo: Odyssey of an Italian Ritual.”

With their first joint visit to Jaeger looming this weekend we sent out some questions to the elder statesman of House music to ask more about Trym Søvdsnes, about how they found each other, and what this means for the scene in Bergen in this Q&A session. 

How did you first hear of Trym and what was it about him that particularly drew you to his sets? 

Well, he and a friend started playing regularly at Cafe Opera in Bergen, and I took notice of their mixing of styles – somewhat dirty, rough techno and house fused with breakbeats and percussion, sounding quite unlike a lot of the other dj’s playing around Bergen at that time. I mean, locally we have a growing interest in good club music, and quite a few talented people. But Trym had an attitude in the music that is kind of rare these days, where people tend to sort of “polish” their style into perfection, well I feel Trym was a bit opposite to that.  

Why are you bringing him to Oslo for this particular night? 

I’ve been thinking for a long time that we sometime ought to play together in Oslo, I know he’s played a few times at Hærverk with the guys from Oblivion Dip, and so when Ola told me about “Norske Byggeklosser” and the idea of promoting Norwegian artists, that was a perfect occasion to make this happen. 

You’ve booked him, and played alongside him during one of the Sofa House events this summer.  What does a Trym Søvdsnes set sound like to you? 

Depending on the setting, of course, but slightly rough-edged, beautiful and often bound to surprise. 

And how does it compare to what you’re playing at the moment? 

It appears to me that we’re on the same wavelength according to mixing styles and creating a vibe that in some way could be reminiscent of the early styles of dj’ing – a “house (not house)”-approach to dance music.  

I hear a lot of old-school acid and Techno in his recorded sets, something which corresponds with  regional appeal at the moment. For somebody that was there when this music first came round, what  are your feelings towards this music today?  

For me the musical history and development has always been an expanding pallet as opposed to a linear string of events. It’s the sheer quality of sound and music that matters the most, there’s very little place for nostalgia in this for me. If it sounds good, I’ll play it, whether it be from 1990 or 2020.  

From what I’ve gathered through snippets on social media and his mixes, is that Trym is a vinyl  enthusiast and first and foremost, a DJ. What else can you tell us about his musical tastes and  attitude to DJing? 

He likes his vinyl, as I do, and he is an avid crate digger. He’s very good at finding stuff before anyone else, and if there’s a rumour of a new load of second hand stuff coming in to the local shop, he’ll be there first, no doubt, haha. Regarding taste and attitude, I feel it reflects my own – finding the hidden gems, being adventurous and curious in the pursuit of good music. Not being dependent on big hits or hype to play a good set. 

Do you see something of a younger Bjørn Torske in him? 

We just have a similar approach, I think. Age isn’t that important, and Trym definitely has a much broader taste than I had at that age.  

What is your musical relationship like outside of the booth; do you often share and talk about  music, and how would that go usually; like a conversation or more like a student and his pupil? 

We have been in the studio together on several occasions, and our first venture was a remix or rather a remake of some very strange old Italian ritual music. We also did a live studio set for Oslo Club Cast earlier this year, and that would be a good example of how we would be “talking” about music. To me  it’s just a well working musical partnership, where we bounce ideas back and forth. I guess I learn as  much from him as he does from me.  

What, if anything have you taken from your experiences with Trym?

Many good musical ideas, and the sense of playing the ball back and forth gives a lot, especially since I’ve mostly focused on solo work throughout my career. And I think he has the same non-competitive approach. No forcing of ideas, just playing around and letting the music speak for itself.  

What is the major difference in terms of how you got started in this music, compared to a younger  DJ like Trym’s experiences today, from your point of view? 

The presence of the internet, and the fact that there is a Norwegian scene for this music. It wasn’t back  then, the few of us doing this felt isolated on a lonely island in the north. And also electronic music wasn’t  widely accepted back then, quite different from today when you can actually get funds to do a PhD in  electronic music. 

What does he represent for the Bergen scene today in your opinion?  

The underground house music movement. 

Bergen must, like the rest of Norway, encourage a fair bit collaboration across genres, styles and  generations. What do you think this instills in Norwegian club music and culture that sets it apart  from other cities and countries? 

On one hand, it’s a good environment for experimenting and pursuing weird ideas. The challenge is to get a focus in all the diversity. I don’t think that the“next big thing” will emerge here, but probably a handful of  good and interesting music.  

Do you think it is something that’s ever reflected in your work as an artist?  

It suits me well, and yes, the musical openness has definitely influenced my approach to music.  There is room to both play and produce dance music in a broad sense.  

At least, I can see its influence in introducing an artist like Trym to the world, when you work  together like on your recent remix for the Tarantismo record.  What was it like working with him on a piece of music and has it cemented a working relationship that will extend beyond that record? 

Yes, we’ve been working together on some material coming out on Prins Thomas’ Full Pupp label early next year. I also mixed my next mini-album in Trym’s studio. I’m also planning to do few remixes of his stuff.  

Do you think that working on music together might feed back into the booth on the occasion when  you do play together for a set like the upcoming one at Jaeger? 

Yes, I think it does, and vice versa. Production and dj’ing are two sides of the same coin, and this has always been crucial to me – taking dj experiences back into the studio, translating the dynamics of a dance floor into the studio mix. And similarly, taking ideas born in the studio and applying them in the mixing of records.

How a scene is built with Charlotte Bendiks and Olivia Rashidi

Tromsø, has been an unlikely breeding ground for musical talent, with repercussions rippling through  Norway and the entire electronic music world stage since the early nineties. The small university- and fishing town up North, with endless dark days and an uncanny pool of talent, has cemented electronic music in the region, spreading it to the furthest reaches of an international scene, since first establishing its reign.

In Norway, Tromsø’s effect extends to Bergen and Oslo, with long tendrils of influence  connecting generations of musicians, DJs and artists, who continue to embody the original and unwavering spirit of that original scene. Two significant figures to emerge from this region are Charlotte Bendiks and Olivia Rashidi, both from Tromsø and carrying on a legacy that has motivated the community and keeps encouraging new artists and DJs to come to the fore. 

Olivia Rashidi met Charlotte Bendiks coming down a mountain in Tromsdalen, mainland Tromsø. “I was lost, and I met Olivia,” remembers Charlotte of the chance encounter with a chuckle. “My friends call me the de-tourist because I have the smallest hippocampus and I have a terrible sense of direction.” The pair struck up a friendship on the journey home, talking about music and DJing, a hobby and nascent career the younger Olivia had started exploring at that time.

The friendship blossomed into collaboration when Charlotte took on the mentorship role through the “Cloud Exit” talent programme associated with Tromsø’s Insomnia festival. Having established a career as a DJ and artist with ties to Cómeme, a residency at Jaeger and regular playing dates in places like Salon Zur Wilden Renate and ://aboutblank, Charlotte took on Olivia as a mentee, strengthening their friendship and a relationship that continues to bear fruit as Olivia’s own DJ career evolves and grows.

Olivia had just started receiving requests to play outside Norway, when the lockdown struck, while Charlotte’s own career continued to go from strength to strength alongside her younger apprentice. Today, they mark Tromsø’s latest musical exports, enjoying the ranks alongside the likes of Bjørn Torske and Rune Lindbæk, a feat even more impressive considering they are two of the few women coming from a historically male dominated culture.

Representing a blossoming career in Olivia Rashidi and a musical institution in Charlotte Bendiks, the pair constitute a bright and formidable future for club music in Norway, which looks to only consolidate around their individual works in the DJ booth. 

It’s this kind of relationship and these artists, that Ola Smith-Simonsen is trying lift up through the Norske Byggeklosser event series, and it was ahead of their appearance this Saturday, in our sauna, that we took the opportunity to talk to both Charlotte and Olivia in an extensive and all-encompassing interview, covering everything from the gender to the lockdown…you know, Mental Overdrive’s new track… 

* Charlotte Bendiks and Olivia Rashidi plays Norske Byggeklosser this Saturday. 

Are you still maintaining the mentor and mentee relationship today?

Charlotte: To be honest that was just a formality. Olivia and I had found each other and we were exchanging ideas and music before that, which usually happens in small cities like this. That’s how I started making music as well; you meet someone that’s older and more experienced and they show you and share their ideas. That’s how the scene is built. We are maintaining a friendship and sharing our stories of life in general. It’s more of an exchange than a mentor and menteeship. 

Olivia, Why did you feel that you had to go to an established DJ like Charlotte for this kind of relationship and not people within your own peer group?

Olivia: I don’t think it was that I couldn’t go to them. Charlotte is somebody that has always inspired me because she’s one of the few female artists from northern Norway. That’s why it was so easy to talk to her about it and in no way, are there people being exclusive. 

Charlotte: We have similar tastes in music.

Photo by Mats Gangvik

Olivia: I could relate to her in terms of music, but we also come from the same place and have the same kind of experiences.

Charlotte: I wish there were other females when I started, because the pressure that you get from some men is very unhealthy and can be damaging in many ways. To be relying on a female figure that’s older and has more experience in these matters is very important. I was very happy to provide that for Olivia.  

I also took my mentorship into areas beyond music, talking about politics, about equality, and issues in the industry that’s very important to consider as an artist today. It’s important to address these issues, because as an artist today, if you’re not being political then what are you?

It seems that today an artist can’t separate their music from their politics, whether you want to or not. But one thing that you touched on there, is the female perspective. You described your relationship as symbiotic, and from my experiences with men in music, it tends to be very one-directional, with an older generation very much still dominating the conversation about music. 

Charlotte: I’ve experienced that too. I thought this was very important as a mentor to say; “This is my advice to you from my perspective, but there are people that have a completely different  set of experiences and skills, so I would advise you to shop around and make up your own mind on what fits with you and your output.” I wouldn’t say that it is exclusively a female approach, but I would say I’ve experienced it more with other women than men. 

We’re underground artists working on the border of art and music, and there isn’t going to be some recipe for success. You should break the rules, you should be rebellious, you should question the structures or the methods of your forebears.

So if I could try and sum up your relationship, as mentor and mentee…

Charlotte: Good luck (laughs)

It’s not like you are exactly taking Olivia under your wing, but more like you’re helping her in nurturing her own voice in music?

Charlotte: That’s my aim. There are practical things that you can do, and we’ve done workshops on that. The main thing about being a mentor is teaching people to trust themselves. 

Olivia: I want to elaborate on that. After my first back to back with Charlotte, I had another gig the following Wednesday at Circa. I remember you (Charlotte) told me that the Wednesdays at Circa were loungy and it wasn’t a big rave atmosphere, and you challenged me to not mix  half of my set. Up until that moment I had been teaching myself how to mix perfectly, because that’s what I thought you had to do. I started to think about how you put two tracks together without mixing it, which opened up the idea, that it’s not terrible, if you make a mistake or not mix a track into another. It allowed for more creativity and gave me more confidence as a DJ, I stopped taking myself too seriously and began loving those small human flaws you sometimes hear in a set. For me that means you’ve challenged yourself and had fun with it.

Charlotte: I’ve said that to a lot of fresh DJs. I would rather listen to a DJ who can’t mix and plays good music, than listen to a DJ that plays boring music and can mix. 

You mentioned that you had similar tastes in music. Is there a point where your tastes diverged from each other?

Olivia: Not diverged. We’ve had similar tastes, but we won’t have identical sets. 

Charlotte: I have the same with a friend of mine, Miruna Boruzescu (Borusiade). We talk a lot and we’re very in tune with ideas, life, friendship and music. Our DJ sets are quite different, and for our back to backs we try to find out where to meet somewhere in the middle.

Olivia: I also remember playing alone and I played a track that Charlotte has in one of her mixes, and like two people came up to me, and asked if this isn’t Charlotte’s track. It was Ana Helder, but they were convinced it belonged to Charlotte because she played it regularly. I noticed then that people will naturally compare me to her and I don’t find it insulting in any way, but I feel that’s like asking, ”can I not play anything Charlotte might play?” 

Charlotte: That’s such a toxic idea and I’m so against that comparison. Just because we’re two women from Tromsø working in music in the last 40 years of Tromsø electronic music history, that we have to be compared, and Olivia can’t play a track that I had used in a mix?

Olivia: I just chose to own it in the end. I’m going to play it and I’m going to play it my way, and they just have to deal with that. 

I’ve noticed, not only in Tromsø, but Norway, there always seems to be a healthy exchange, not only between generations, but different groups of people working in music. More here than anywhere else, it seems that the scene isn’t as focused on a youth culture as it is perhaps in bigger countries, but more around an established old guard. 

Charlotte: What is the old guard, and what do you say about an upcommer of 42? What is experience and what do you do with it, and what is success and how do you measure success? All these questions are so open, that it doesn’t fit in the world of music and arts for me. 

This idea of passing the torch doesn’t work for me. Yes, there is a nine years difference (in age)  between me and Olivia and I’ve lived longer than her and I’ve had a longer career, but I don’t think there’s been a generational gap. (Tromsø) is such a small town, it’s just a scene with people, with various people with different sets of skills and experiences.  

It’s my experience from places like London and Amsterdam that it’s a very competitive scene and what usually attracts people and especially the media to it, is youth and the fact that it’s something new. I’ve not experienced it in that same way here in Norway. 

Charlotte: In Germany as well. You have this idea passed down through generations of how society, age and human life should be, but I think we should start realising, that that’s about to become outdated; these ideas of generations and age and experience. 

Olivia: There’s also been this misconception that you have to try to make a living out of it, for it to be your true passion. I want to take my time and I still want to figure out what I want to do with my life and I don’t think that question will ever be answered. I love music and I love DJ-ing, but I also want to do it on my terms. 

I remember you telling something similar the last time we interviewed you. You were talking about production, and how you’re refraining from till you could do it on your terms. Is there a pressure to produce too now?

Olivia: A lot of people have told me I have to start producing and I take that as a huge compliment, but I don’t want to produce something just for the sake of it. Someone else’s capacity will differ from mine, I have a lot of stuff going on and I will do things according to my own ability. 

Me and Charlotte have had workshops and I am constantly recording interesting sounds and I write down ideas, but I’m also acknowledging that music production is a long process, I’m aware that I’ll have to go through some failed projects before something is ready to be released. And I’m patient!

It’s the same with social media. When I made my Facebook page I was so stressed out, because I’m a private person and I don’t really do social media. I didn’t expect that cliché about social media being toxic would apply to my situation, but I got so anxiety ridden because I felt that I didn’t do enough whenever I saw someone else post something interesting, even though I got a lot of gigs and people were constantly inviting me to do stuff. I even started getting invited to Russia and Sweden, gaining ground internationally. 

There’s been so much focus on posting on your progress, especially for a newcomer. I think it’s easy to become stressed out or insecure sometimes. I also have to keep reminding myself that my social media content is not a measurement of my success. 

Charlotte: I also have something to add on this note; compulsive production is like smoking cigarettes in the sixties, addiction is sold as freedom. The more you produce, the more you release, I realise as a music lover, a DJ and music producer, that there is so much that each track loses value. 

It feeds into this universal idea of producing content and in a way music has just become another form of content to feed the social media monster. Are you gonna be producing music for the sake of producing music so Spotify can make more money? 

Charlotte: It doesn’t make sense.

Olivia: When I moved to Oslo, I didn’t have a job, so I was trying to make ends meet by just taking on a lot of gigs. There would be places where they would tell me what kind of music they wanted before I even got there, obviously not knowing my style at all. I felt that I needed to get myself out there and to feed my facebook and instagram feed, but really it didn’t make me more inspired and it didn’t make me feel more successful. It was tiring. When I got a job, I just had to listen to Enya for two weeks because I was so tired of electronic music. 

Are these ideas and thoughts on your own career something you were considering before covid?

Olivia: Yes, because I put a lot of pressure on myself and a facebook notification would pop every day, telling me to “keep posting.” I felt that I was rushing something, and I wasn’t sure where I was rushing to.

Charlotte, have you had any similar experiences to Olivia’s?

Charlotte: It also comes from people that I work with, who are constantly telling me to post more and do more. I felt that pressure, and what I’ve landed on is; “ok I’ll put out some stuff so I can stay in people’s feeds,” but it’s also better to work with an organisation that has their own PR strategy. Like working with a label or a podcast. 

Every time I feel this pressure though, I end up posting memes, because I can’t take this shit seriously. (laughs)

I want to ask about the lockdown… 

Charlotte: You mean Mental overdrive’s new track. 

That was a really surprising EP, but no,  in terms of the pandemic; how has the situation affected you?

Olivia: It’s just been a natural hiatus. I’ve been trying to generally keep my sanity and stay busy and stay inspired. Just listening to sets and staying updated on new releases so when everything goes back to (a new) normal again, I wouldn’t be too big a step for me to get back into the mindset of wanting to play.

Charlotte, you were making a living from DJing and music at the point we reached full lockdown, and not anything in terms of high profile travelling DJ, but surely that has had a serious impact.

Charlotte: I lost everything. I’m supposed to be in Tokyo now. I have my calendar reminding me of all these bookings, which is sad. I’m struggling financially, but being an underground musician, I’m used to being broke… so I’m managing.

Both of you have played through during summer, but your experiences from the booth must have been quite different, since in Oslo, where Olivia’s stayed, there’s been almost no dancing, while in Tromsø, I believe the regulations weren’t as strict. 

Olivia:  In the beginning I thought it would be more of a lounge setting and then somebody would come up to me, saying we really just want to listen to really good club music. I’ve gotten used to it and it feels good to be able to play a high energy set and see people enjoying it, even though they can’t get crazy on the dance floor. 

Charlotte: Music is such a physical experience. 

You can’t replicate that on a set of headphones. 

Olivia: Yes it’s something different, when you’re feeling the bass shaking you to your core. It’s not just about physically feeling the bassline, but also kind of how you move your body to the music.

Charlotte: What I’ve been doing is that I’ve started going to classes at the gym, where they do different muscle workouts to music and beats. To be in a room and listen to loud bass music and jump around and be sweaty around people is amazing, even though the taste of music at the gyms is not what I like to listen to. 

Olivia: I also want to add that for a lot of people, just being part of  a music scene is important. It’s about being social, and meeting new people that have the same interests as you.

Charlotte: It’s a shared experience.

Olivia: And that’s also why it’s so nice to see people together, because they need to socialise together.

For a lot of people growing up with this music, me included it’s deeply ingrained in our cultural fabric. 

Olivia: I actually know someone, who was sitting in the front courtyard while I was playing at Jaeger, and around 12 O’clock he texted me on Instagram and he told me had moved here and discovered the scene in Oslo, just before the first lockdown. It was just so important for him to go out. He was telling me how important the scene was for him to find his own friends. It’s a great way of meeting new people, and for some it’s the only way. 

I think that little story perfectly sums up what club culture and music is to us all. Let’s hope then it will survive the pandemic in whatever form it might take after. 

 

15 years of Full Pupp with Prins Thomas

This feels like hallowed ground. The small inconspicuous room is walled with records. Gathering dust in one corner is a drum kit and a cello while a cluttered desk occupies the other side of the room. This is more like a storage unit than a music studio, but it’s here on the third floor of a pedestrian office building where it all started, a record label called Full Pupp.

Across the hallway, Lindstrøm has a studio and a few doors down Todd Terje used to occupy a room, and if these unassuming walls could talk, they’d narrate fifteen years of a story of a label, that brought the sound of Norwegian House music to the rest of the world, and continues to provide a platform for new Norwegian artists working in the electronic music dialect. 

It’s here where I find Thomas Hermansen, the self-appointed Prins of this musical empire, sifting through some older records. He’s asked me to meet him here, even though he spends most of his time in his second studio. Moving his operations to the suburbs, closer to home a few years back, he uses the old studio as storage for a record collection that has spilled over into three different locations. 

Some of the records he peruses I hear later that week in his set Jaeger, during a new residency he’s cultivated over the course of the pandemic. Like the rest of the world, he’s taken the opportunity to take stock and adapt to the situation. “I’m living in the now and actually embracing that once a month opportunity to put music together” he exclaims with a beaming smile. 

He’s seized the opportunity to play some music from the fringes of this expansive record collection for a new monthly night at Jaeger, he’s aptly called Serenity Now! “Everything is set on pause a little,” he considered, “so it’s more a time for reflection, a time talking with other people and to be social.” For Thomas, the DJ it’s getting back to the start of a long career in the booth, where he cut his teeth in the local bars and hangouts of Oslo during the nineties. 

“The stuff I do now at Jaeger is based on stuff I’ve done before,” he explains. “This goes back 25 years ago, where I would play in a social setting for people that are there to do other things but to dance. I really enjoy doing things that are in the cross-section of these two things, when you can get people to dance to low energy stuff, and even do little peaks where you do play some bangers.”

The night has him content with the current situation and “besides the financial thing and the fact that I miss playing Sundays at Panorama bar, I’m actually quite happy as things are.”

A small pile of records starts to gather at his feet while he’s reminiscing in some automatic selection that suggests he knows each record intimately; records that look as if they haven’t seen anything but cobwebs in a few years. The topic of the pandemic, much like the pandemic itself, lingers as we consider the eventual repercussions and the relevance of releasing and playing club music during this time. 

Thomas even has his doubts about Full Pupp and the 15 year celebrations that started earlier this year with a lot of new releases featuring new or unreleased music from the unwavering stable of artists on the Full Pupp catalogue. “I wish we didn’t,” says Thomas more in humour than regret; “I wish we celebrated 16 years next year,” but what had been set in motion before the pandemic couldn’t easily be undone. 2020 had been a bumper year of releases for the label and Prins Thomas, whose own records included an album on Running Back (Træns) and a new album that saw Thomas reuniting with Lindstrøm for the long-awaited follow up to II, 11 years on from their last record. 

It’s picking up a thread from the early 2000’s when Lindstrøm and Prins Thomas introduced a distinctly Nordic interpretation of House to the world. People called it Space Disco; sowing the seeds for a label called Tamburin, which eventually becomes Full Pupp; bringing music from  Todd Terje, Diskjokke, Skatebård and Telephones to the world stage; shooting into new branches with names like Prins Thomas Music and Horisontal Mambo; and now in its fifteen year, gathering more steam with a new digital imprint (Full Pupp Ekspress) and a lot more music planned for the foreseeable future.

It all started here, in this stuffy little room where we slip into conversation with Prins Thomas. 

Congratulations. 15 years is a long time for a label. 

It feels like thirty. (laughs) At the same time, I don’t feel like the music has evolved much during that time. In a way time is irrelevant. 

Do you feel that’s a positive thing?

That’s the nature of this kind of music. Contemporary dance music always picks up something along the way, but it somehow keeps going in circles. You always go back to the seventies, eighties and nineties to pick up inspiration, adding something new to the formula. And that’s fine; for the most part it’s music to get down to. 

So does it still feel like a celebration at fifteen or is it just another year for you at this point?

This is one of the things I’ve been thinking about; opening up to new ideas. Being inspired by working in a different manner. I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a yearly round-up of stuff. There’s also the possibility of tracks doing well, to combine them on vinyl. So maybe now we’ll celebrate  every year. 

Full Pupp, although it’s been claimed by Space Disco, has had Techno, House and Electro records on there. Do you feel it has been able to shake the stigma of Space Disco today and live beyond such constricting parameters?

As inspiration it’s always going to be there, but not necessarily more than House music in general. The canon of hits or the things that everybody likes; the Detroit origins or the New York origins, all these things are part of it. The Disco thing is there maybe more as an approach to making music, where I think a lot of the artists on Full Pupp are good at producing more loose, not so genre-strict music.

Would you say that’s the sonic philosophy behind Full Pupp; this fusion of all these styles in contemporary dance music? 

I don’t know if I actually have a philosophy or strategy at all. It’s never about the last record, it’s about all the records compiled together, whether it’s my label’s body of work or my own body of work. It’s probably the most frustrating thing about having a label, when you get that question; “what is it(?)”…  I tend to say… “Just listen.” (laughs) 

I understand there is a romantic idea behind it, because now there’s all this music coming and you need these genres and tags to help people find this music. I’m still thinking with my old brain, when there weren’t enough records in a genre to keep things interesting. 

You’re talking about the early nineties?

Even in the mid eighties when I was getting into this, I was buying regular pop records with dub versions on the B-side. Even the shitty stuff. You would have Whitney Houston’s I wanna dance with somebody, the dub version and you would play it next to Beastie Boys.

Now it’s relatively easy to get lost in a wormhole. You could listen to one specific type of techno with the same mood on every record, making the job easier for you as a DJ, but generally it’s boring for anybody else. 

What was the pretext for starting the label all those years ago?

I had friends of mine making great records, and I felt it was stupid for everybody to send their demos abroad, and give their stuff to  English labels. At the time, there weren’t any Norwegian labels making House music, everybody was sending their stuff to English labels and everybody believed that was the only way to do it. I’m not saying it was the first electronic music label; there were others, but not doing the kind of music we were doing.

This would have been around 2004-5 and the start of MP3s and what would become the digital revolution in this music. Was there any sense trepidation releasing records in the physical format during that time?

Well the funny thing is, two of our first records, Todd Terje’s first two records and my debut 12”, they sold quite well in the beginning. We even had a long period where we didn’t sell digitally. 

That’s changed now with Full Pupp ekspress. It’s uncanny, but in a way we’re finding ourselves in a similar situation today after what was a little peak for vinyl’s resurgence for a few years. What’s the difference from that era too now for you to start the digital imprint?

The easiest comparison; in the beginning we would sell 2000 copies of a completely unknown artist on Full Pupp. Now we’re selling 300 copies of my records on Full Pupp. We’re very close to the point where just barely breaking even is a positive thing. 

I have to say, for me it was a bummer even thinking about going digital. I’ve said many times that if I have to release stuff just digitally, it’s not a label anymore and I’m quitting. But starting on the process of planning the first releases, it felt really fresh to not work with constrictions of 12”, maximum 12 minutes. 

It’s opened up a new way of thinking; putting the format aside.We’re still planning releases for  Full Pupp on vinyl, so it’s not like we’re done with vinyl. Opening this door, is opening new possibilities.

What changed in your thought process to even consider the digital format?

Less frustration of having to wait out the period of releasing a record. In the beginning it was about getting the music finished and tidy enough to fit on a record.  By the time the record is out your sick and tired of it and your excitement is elsewhere. 

Having a quicker process from when the music is done to when it comes out. I don’t have to be as aware; are we going to get this funded by selling enough records. 

So it comes down to the economy of the label? You wouldn’t be able to justify going on exclusively in the physical format, eventually you and word and sound would run out of money.

I’m not saying everything is not selling, I’m saying there’s far more records not selling enough. It takes too long to recoup the money from the sales. At some point you have to take into account that they have to destroy the records. 

 It’s a good testing ground to see what could sell on vinyl.

Yes. That is also part of the plan, that Full Pupp isn’t just a digital label, we still have the possibility of doing anything or everything on vinyl.

Do you think it will change your approach to A&R for Full Pupp?

I think it already did. There was stuff I was going to put out on vinyl that is now only digital, but it gives me more room to move. I can take chances on tracks that wouldn’t be one of the four on vinyl.

Which seems right in today’s landscape. You can’t expect to make any money releasing a physical record, even if you release it on your own label, it is just going to cost you money.

I think the safest bet is that if you really want to make some money,  is to make some music that people would want to pay for, and fund it yourself. 

Then you would need to play to the common denominator, surely?

Not exactly, but then it’s going to have to be something that more than fifty other people in the world wants. And I think there are too many people making music for fifty other people. I might do it myself, but at least I’ve cheated my way into having a further reach (laughs). So when I make a track that’s probably only meant for 100 other people, there’s maybe 2000 other people, listening to it. 

Does that have to do with your success as a DJ in reaching these people?

I think it’s a mixture, being a recording artist over time, and those first releases with Lindstrøm and having my name out there as a DJ and doing remixes. At different times it seems that it’s hard escaping my name no matter what kind of music you’re listening to.

Do you think Full Pupp could exist without Prins Thomas?

Of course, if somebody wants to buy it, I’d be happy to sell it. (laughs) An important fact about all this is; the only reason there is a Prins Thomas music label is because I was thinking of pulling the plug on Full Pupp. At the time I was really getting fed up with not living up to people’s expectations, when it came to sales and how slow things were going. Now I think it’s like this for everybody.

More importantly is that for the last year Ivaylo (Kolev) has been helping out running it so we can actually call it a record label, because for fourteen years it wasn’t… it was just an imprint. 

I’ve noticed, besides remixes, your own music is mainly coming out via these like International or the Prins Thomas music label. Have you distanced your own music further away from Full Pupp in recent years?

Setting up Prins Thomas music was definitely a way of getting my stuff out of the way, so I wouldn’t clog up the catalogue with my own releases. When I put a record out, it has a bit more spread and coverage, which means the label is probably working longer and harder with it. Those are the times when we can hire external PR and stuff like this, because there will be some revenue. It only took two people to point the finger, saying “when is my record coming out, now that your record is out.” 

But for the last year, I’ve been a lot more involved with the label, and trying to keep up with Ivaylo’s schedule. Because now we actually have a schedule. Getting more involved means that I see more things that need to be done, so I’m much more part of the process. 

As far as I know, you have always had a very hands on approach to the artists on the label, from the point of creation. Is that an integral part of the approach to the label?

It’s a bunch of different approaches, in terms of what the artist wants and what I want to hear. How I perceive what I’ve been sent. If I feel that the message is not coming across in the way the artist solved it, I have to give my own take on it, either by helping out mixing down, arranging or speaking to the person. But sometimes I stay away if I feel there’s something that has a strong identity already, I don’t want to interfere with that.

But that in itself  is something of the sonic identity that courses through Full Pupp?

Yes, but that’s just down to my taste. And it’s already been filtered, not everybody sends me music. I do get a lot of music, that I don’t see a part of any of the labels that I do. And there’s things that don’t live up to expectations.; since starting the label, I’ve always wanted to put out a great rock record,  but nobody has sent me a great rock record.

Have you received any rock records?

Yes, there have been some. But not anything that I think works as a record.

But you’ve started some other labels, that you accommodate things that don’t always fit the Full Pupp sound.

Yeah but there are enough labels now. (laughs)

Where do you see it all five years from now?

I have no idea whether I’ll be doing the label in another five years, I probably will, because I’m a slow quitter… who knows…

The cut with Filter Musikk: “kortreist” to sanctuary

Dance floors stand empty; a silent void crushing the ghostly reverberations of a time when they were packed with licentious bodies moving to a provocative beat. Sound systems remain dormant, dust and rust coagulating around moving parts in rictus, where once upon a time their motions could ignite fires on the dance floor. 

Anything resembling a scene is in hibernation and accurately so. Yet every day we’re bombarded by a caterwaul of emails, social media posts and articles proclaiming the next “big room techno banger” about to arrive on the next big techno banger label, spearheaded by the last big room techno banger DJ, desperately trying stay relevant in a scene that has taken to the woods, where their services are no longer required. 

They breathe the air of other planets, their perception of reality emulsifying around the last great night, the last big room, the last DJ set, trapped in limbo like a wary Jack Nicholson trying to force a door open with an axe… yes, subtle. These uncharted territories in charted dance music where adaptation thrives and reluctance to modulate is the death knell in the form of a 909 kick. It’s time to wake up from the lysergic dream of an impossible past, and it’s in situations like these that a new music will thrive. It’s music that is in direct contact with a localised audience, a music in the form of a conversation rather than a monologue. 

Music does not live in a bubble of isolation, it lives and grows within the zeitgeist of society, and in a world where the “big room” is closed; the dance floor is cluttered with tables and chairs; the international superstar DJ is landlocked and homebound; and the festival season is postponed, perhaps now is not the time for your “big room Techno banger.” You’ll have your chance again… but we need something different now; something a little more sympathetic with the situation.

Luckily this music exists too, and it’s happening right on our doorstep. It’s a short trip to liberation, a brief jaunt toward complete immersion of a unique and distinct music culture, with everything from Trance to House finding a new purpose in more uplifting spirits. This is music that soothes and condoles in unprecedented times, the stuff we recognise from the people we know. This is the cut with Filter Musikk on a “kortreist” to sanctuary. 

 

Mikkel Rev – UTE004 (UTE.REC) 12”

Uteklubb have been busy. While they wait patiently for the pandemic to ease and get back to hosting events, the people behind the DJ collective have focussed all their efforts on the label and their music, and 2020 has been a bumper year of releases for the artists behind the label. Settling into a transcendental sonic disposition, Uteklubb have moved out from the dark recesses of Techno into the enlightened sound of Trance, IDM and Ambient music. They’ve established a new label Sinensis with Omformer consolidating those efforts around two releases while the flagship label, re-focussed their purpose on the boisterous tempos of the impromptu forest dance floor with the Groundcontrol compilation and now the latest 12” from UTE.REC founder Mikkel Rev.

Disappearing into fluffy clouds of rich dynamic textures, Rev’s melodies rise above the steadfast rhythm sections that follow the grid in a near-military precision. Pads and keys free the beat from its marching orders as they streak across the tracks in search of some human empathy in lieu of a dance floor. 

Throughout the two-sides, Rev seeks some organic entity within the formulas of dance music, and takes the music out of the stuffy confines of a club into the fresh air, where we’ll dance el-fresco as the uppermost resonances touch the top of fir trees. Between elements of acid, IDM and ambient, Mikkel Rev channels a sound into a style with its major touchstone anchored in classic Trance, revamped for the future audiences of this forgotten, but endearing dance music genre. 

 

VA – 15 Years Full Pupp Pt.3 (Full Pupp) 12″

15 years of Full Pupp. That should be enough. 15 years for any label is a feat worth aspiring to, but for Prins Thomas’ plucky Oslo-based outfit it had always seemed like an inevitability as the only outlet for Techno, House et al from Norway for nearly all this time. And in its fifteenth year, it’s only gone to prove itself as a dominating force in dance club music in Norway and beyond. 

Releasing more music than ever in 2020 – and we don’t think the pandemic has anything to do with it – Full Pupp is putting out enough music the world over, all based on a small enclave of artists working from within Prins Thomas immediate artistic circle, based mostly in Norway. For the last 15 years, Full Pupp has been the measure to gauge the waters of Norwegian club music, and while it would still bear association with the Space Disco epithet for most, its discography reaches far and wide into everything from Disco to Techno, and that’s not considering all the sublabels. 

In the landmark year for the label, Prins Thomas is celebrating the occasion with a series of compilation EPs from the artists that have contributed to the label over the years in a concerted effort from Prins Thomas to wrangle the eclectic sounds of the diverse record label into a concise sonic history. Part three in the series features another star-studded guest list with contributions from Skatebård, Iben Elaster, Magnus International and the second ever release of Wildflowers, the new collaborative project between Kaman Leung and Øyvind Morken. 

Between the warbling acid of Prins Thomas’ treatment of Sitronsyre, to the cosmishe wizardry of Wildflower’s Magic Johnson, it’s a record that covers the vast expanse of Norway and Oslo’s club dialect and music history. It retains that intrinsic Full Pupp identity, which has even gone some way to define an artist like Skatebård’s music. The crisp sounds and the cold atmospheres creeping in between effervescent melodic excursions and lattice-like percussive arrangements, is indicative of the Full Pupp charm that has travelled from Norway to the furthest reaches of Japan and is enshrined in the expanding Full Pupp catalogue. Here’s to another fifteen years, Full Pupp.  

 

Omformer – Ascending /Distance (HMD Records) 12”

I can’t think of a place anybody would rather be than hjemme med dama at the moment. The Oslo-based label and community celebrates five years years as a mix concept born out of the bedroom that has matured into an event series, a label and a festival, only to return to the bedroom in 2020, where it’s found some striking sympathy with the world around it in their latest.

Omformer bring their unique take on Trance and Ambient to HMD. Two extensive cuts, float between beat music and ambient texture across Ascending and Descending, as we go from the main floor to the second room of a nineties Rave across the release. An obscure narrative follows the record over two sides, as that swinging rope bridge from the dance floor to the living room. As Ascending’s lively intro drifts away into pirouetting acid figures and eventually drop into the languid mood of Distance, it marks the serene anti-climax of a night out, captured in sound.

It’s the ultimate come-down record for what’s proven to be the ultimate come-down situation, even though it was made way before the pandemic. But going from those ecstatic highs of the first half to the sluggish relief of the second half of the record, and even in the slow recesses of the Distance’s downtempo exaltations, Omformer find a chipper disposition as synthesisers leap across arrangement in buoyant movements. 

 

Fredfades & Jawn Rice – Remixes (Mutual Intentions) 10”

House music hasn’t sounded this cool in a long time. If Eddie Murphy’s leather suits and Tom Hardy’s sneer made music, this is what it would sound like.  Mutual Intentions have been unravelling the borders between Soul, House, Jazz, Hip Hop and Disco across their affiliates since establishing the concept, but it’s in the recent collaborative efforts of Jawn Rice and Fredfades where they’ve blurred these borders into a House music trope that engages as much as it entices.

After a stint in the hot tub as Jacuzzi Boys in 2018, the pair followed it up with Luv Neva Fades this year, a record that bathes in the same tropical warmth of its predecessor, but refining the sound with the help of a stellar cast of collaborators. Arriving around the same time, was a remix package of some released and unreleased material getting the treatment from the Jacuzzi Boyz themselves, Chmmr, Deep88 and Hugo LX.

From Chmmr re-assembling Show me How’s percussive arrangement to Hugo LX’s soulful excursions through Mutual Love’s horn sections, each artist imprints their own personality on these tracks, but it’s the hazy heat of Fredfades and Jawn Rice originals that remain at the center of the record’s appeal.  

Chmmr’s icy melodic treatments and Deep88’s vision for the dance floor on I believe, show a different side to these tracks, but it’s the dusty keys and muggy atmospheres of the originals that is the glue that holds these tracks together.  

 

Snorre Magnar Solberg – Arkhe Typos (On On Bulk)

Snorre Magnar Solberg communes with aliens on his latest; “A 1 hr journey into the realm of synthesizer shamanism, exploring ambi-trance, textural drone, uplifting acidic, cosmic cradle lullaby`s with added tribal machine rhythms.”

Solberg taps into the primordial ooze of emotion, converting introverted suggestions into movement and noise. Incandescent bleeps and squawks flicker from some subconscious diatribe in a cosmic language, reconstituted as sound and then music. Snorre Magnar Solberg dives deep into the recesses of an inanimate synthesiser on Arkhe Typos in a record that drifts between experimental improvisation and synthetic ambience.

Melodic refrains and harmonic passages with nowhere to go, float untethered, in a void across stark electronic soundscapes that feel more like ambient installation than anything from a dance music dialect. Touchstones from acid and trance coalesce around defiant formations progressing across the record like constellations, briefly revealing a hidden pattern, before dispersing into complete randomness.   

* The cut with Filter Musikk goes live at Jaeger this Wednesday with a Vinyl Messe and DJ sets from Roland Lifjell and Sverre Brand.

Keep it locked on Løkka: Introducing Løkka FM

Air Max ‘97s two stepping their way through the murky bass-spectrum’s of the UK underground as rolling rhythms undulate under growling voices,spreading the poetry of street.  This the  sound original pirate material, the sound of illicit airwaves being broadcast from rudimentary FM antennas hanging from a council estate building. It’s the sound of UK garage, two step, funky and what would become grime and dubstep in later years and it’s arrived in Oslo. This is the sound of Løkka FM.

The Oslo DJ collective and party set are bringing the sounds of UKG, two step and bass over to Norwegian shores with events, online radio shows, merchandise and now a label. Featuring a Norwegian-British ensemble of producers, DJs and music fanatics, Løkka FM have become the new ambassadors for a UK sound in Oslo and Norway. The 4-piece have consolidated their efforts around events like the regular takeover in Jaeger’s backyard and more recently, a label

Løkka FM 001 hit the shelves this summer, with Club Quarantine (indoors), a track that channeled their vibe in the booth to a record that hits it hard on the nose under our current situation and showcases the UKG’s ability to move from the dance floor to the airwaves across one track. It features two of the four Løkka FM affiliates with a guest appearance from Nora Pagu, but who are the rest of Løkka FM and how exactly did they arrive at their sound? We reached out to Marius Sommerfeldt, (aka DJ Bangerfeldt) to find out more about the emerging collective as we stream their last session from the sauna. 

I’ve heard Løkka FM being referred to as a DJ collective, radio show, event and maybe a label. What exactly is Løkka FM?

Løkka FM is a collective, a club night, a label, party central, an Instagram account, a Norwegian-British culture exchange programme, a neverending messenger-chat, a 2hr-mix production company, a T-Shirt manufacturer, a Premier League discussion forum and an ambulatory radio show. Amongst others. 

What were the origins of Løkka FM, and who is involved today?

Løkka FM consists of DJ Bangerfeldt, Toshybot, Goodzee and Andreas 565. Goodzee has been DJ’ing in the UK before moving to Norway, Andreas has been doing different UKG-concepts earlier on, at Revolver and Dattera amongst others, Marius and Toshy has been releasing music for DJ’ing for years… and we’ve all been blending UKG-bangers in our different housey sets, even playing together at different occasions. At the same time we saw a potential to have a bigger impact and cultivate the UK sound if we united in a bigger crew with more outlets. The UK scene has been quite small in Oslo, so it just seemed excessive to compete about the same crowd and the same bookings. In addition we wanted the nights to be fun and a bit more rugged, with Goodzee on the mic and some mix-and-blending throughout the night to make it stand out a bit more from the regular house nights we all have played over the years. And people really seem to catch on!

An honourable mention goes to our designer, Kristian Tennebø for delivering such amazing artwork and packaging for us !

You guys have quite varied backgrounds, but yet Løkka FM is grounded in the sound of House, two-step and garage. What brought you all to this particular sound?

We all have different reasons for loving it – old mix CD’s, MJ Cole, Wookie, UK pirate radio, Air Max 97’s, etc but the timing and the state of UKG is probably a big reason for us doing it now. There’s been a big revival of UKG and 2-step in the UK over the past 6-7 years, with a myriad of young, new producers and DJs fronting a new wave of UKG and UK House and none of us felt it impacted the clubs and parties we attended in Oslo. Whenever we went to London or Birmingham we experienced a young and vibrant scene, whereas in Norway – If UKG-tracks got a spin it tended to be the golden oldies and the usual, predictable stuff. When Løkka FM was formed it was important to recognize these new producers and the new sound as well, and not lean too much on the legacy of great, but also overplayed, UKG-anthems. The sound is therefore evolving with a blend of 4×4, 2-step, bass and vocal chops with a taste of speed garage and bassline when it’s called for! The perfect party-blend! 

What is your connection to the world of UKG, and why did you decide to bring it to Oslo?

I guess we all have our different connection and different favourite parts of the sound that make up Løkka FM. Goodzee being from the motherland obviously grew up with UKG and has spent a lifetime with the genre. Andreas 565 has been in Birmingham a lot and done club nights with Birmingham DJs in Oslo and played at their bassey nights. Toshy fell in love with UK garage on an Interrail trip back in 98 and has had a deep love for the genre ever since. 

Marius dips into the garage scene came mostly from reading mixmag about the new sound and listening to The Streets, Wookie, MJ Cole and rewinding Nice N´ Ripe bangers too many times, in the late nineties.

We’ve also been embraced by different DJs, radio stations and promoters in the UK from the get go – they seem to find it fascinating that we’re carrying the torch over here as well. We’ve even had legends like Matt Jam Lamont and Zed Bias over which was great fun, obviously! The main reason for doing it might just be that UKG is such a versatile form for club music that people seem to fall in love with, even though they don’t have a clue about Garage or UKG. Even though people don’t know they love it, they tend to after a UKG night regardless. After every party there’s someone approaching us saying “I have no idea what you guys were playing, but it’s great. Where can I find more?”. It kind of spurred us on to not only playing it, but also being more up front about the genre and branding it a bit more. 

The “FM” aspect is not something you can ignore, and it evokes something of that nineties/early 2000’s pirate radio spirit. What is the significance of the radio associations to Løkka FM?

When Goodzee is chatting trash on the mic over a bassey 2-step blend it’s hard not to think of pirate radio to be honest. One of the most engaging parts of UKG, and also one of the aspects that sets it apart from more traditional house music is the communication between the DJs and the MCs, and the MCs and the crowd. It has rarely happened in parties in Oslo before Løkka FM, but we love it and we want to emphasize it and develop it even more. When we’ve brought other MCs with us as well the response from the crowd has been great, especially when people get used to the dynamics. Besides, “FM” looks really cool on a shirt, don’t you think?

I don’t suppose you’ve rigged up an antenna on Markveien just yet, but is that something you will be adding to the Løkka FM franchise eventually?

We have been doing different monthly radio shows –  AAJA in Deptford, De3p Radio Network and others, but it would be fun to go back to the roots and do an actual FM-set, for sure! Do people still have their old FM-radios though? LØKKA DAB doesn’t sound as sexy, tbh. 

You’ve had a few successful nights at Jaeger recently. How do these takeovers consolidate what you’re doing with the rest of the concept?

Jaeger is a great place we’ve all been partying at and we’ve discussed on multiple occasions that the backyard would be a perfect spot for a proper UKG-party, so it was fun making it happen! For us it’s a great way of showcasing a house and garage blend for a crowd that knows club music and is used to the dynamics of a club set, while also throwing in 2-step and bassey tracks to keep it interesting. So far – so good! Hopefully we can grow even more and get some of our current favourites to join us, as soon as the UK lockdown is over as well! 

It’s certainly distinctive and there seems to be a shared, dedicated objective to Løkka FM with that accent on a UK sound. How have the Norwegian audiences taken to it from your perspective?

As we mentioned earlier – people really seem to catch on. From the get go we attracted a lot of british expats that were really into UKG and baffled that they finally found a club night in Oslo, but the more nights we do the more people tend to come back. We thought the scene was marginal in Oslo, but we might have underestimated UKG a bit – every night  there’s a couple of die hard 2-step fans we’ve never met before approaching us and after the set there’s always at least a couple of people left wanting to talk about what we’ve played. All in all it’s more than enough people buying in to keep us motivated to bring new tracks and new sets… now we’re just dreaming of a post-Covid dance floor going crazy to a shuffled hi-hat! 

I’ve heard mention of a label. When can we expect some music, and how much will it reflect what you’re doing in the booth?

Our label seemed like a nice extension to the community, and our first release is already out! Club Quarantine, which is a quirky 2-step banger about staying indoors (Covid-19 style) involves Marius & Tosh as Trudee Nite , Goodzee on the mic, the great Nora Pagu doing backing vocals and 565 finishing a pretty banging remix as we speak (coming soon) Andreas 565 has already been producing some banging UK Garage as 565 – they have a couple of releases on Smashing Trax Records and Pogo House Records as well as different remixes that is worth checking out.

Will the label also be a collective pursuit, or will you be looking to induct artists from outside Løkka FM?

Apart from the local crew, Trudee Nite and 565 doing tracks and remixes, we will be followed by some (hopefully) national and international friends of the UKG community in the future.

What else should we know about Løkka FM ahead of your next night at Jaeger?

Not much to say on this one, except: Keep it locked, keep it safe, keep it Løkka!

 

For more information visit:

Where there’s smoke there’s fire and that wasn’t a rave

Let’s just get one thing straight: whatever happened in St Hanshaugen last weekend, it wasn’t a rave. A bunch of entitled, straight, white people shouting over a tinny PA blasting out dance chart music, is little more than a russebuss to Berghain (if I can borrow a phrase from Olanskii). It’s a thinly veiled attempt at monopolising on an aspect of counter culture most of the people involved have never experienced first hand. You’ve read the stories, heard the rumours and saw the debate on television, and I just want to make sure that you know that whoever these people are, they don’t speak for rave- or club culture. These are nothing more than a bunch of kids with more money than sense, but the associations they’ve encouraged with rave culture and the international media incorrectly emphasising this association in a narrative of dangerous liaisons in a bunker in Oslo, could have disastrous ramifications for the last remnants of the original counter culture rave- and club scene. Especially in Norway and Oslo, where an authoritarian nanny state has always had a complicated and mostly dichotomous relationship with dance music culture and the community.

DIY parties and raves, in big part because of this relationship, has always had a presence in Norway. Accessible forests and remote suburban hamlets offer a chance to disappear and have led to some legendary party sets to flourish in Norway with experienced DJs and promoters hosting events that always make sure to fly under the radar, in order to not attract any attention to themselves or their guests. Intimate gatherings in largely open air venues with hosts taking every precaution to ensure the safety of their guests, have attracted less attention in all these years combined, than this one isolated event that shouldn’t even be considered in the same sport let alone the same ballpark. In recent years, events like VOID, Uteklubb and Technokjeller’n have come a long way in legitimising their efforts in Oslo by appearing in established venues like Jaeger and Villa and hosting official stages at the annual Oslo Musikkfest, a city wide event endorsed by local government. In fact to say that events like these are DIY is understatement, since more go into the planning and execution, than what usually goes into a similar event at a club. 

Unfortunately all the good work that these people have done, have just been eradicated, by this event in St Hanshaugen. Career politicians looking for a scapegoat through the blurry vision of political ideologies, and more often than not personal advancements, always fail to see the nuances, and will most certainly now only strengthen their resolve on all they perceive to be club culture. Almost immediately after, just this week in fact, they’ve maintained their position in closing venues before 12:00 when we saw encouraging signs that they would allow venues to stay open until 3AM. It’s just a bit ironic too, considering the fact that it was exactly this reason that these kids sought a cave to rave; the hubris of politics at work in the very denial of reality in every conceivable effort to always appear to be right. Limiting opening hours in a society so conditioned by drinking and socialising habits in the early mornings, in large part enforced by the state’s practises, have not changed these habits in Oslo at all, and in some aspects have only strengthened people’s resolve to maintain their routines. 

What do you expect? Human nature will always prevail, and in a situation like a pandemic, strengthened by the need to escape a grim reality , Oslo has responded, first with impromptu house parties and later with raves and club events happening around the edges of the city’s forest borders. When the house parties got too rowdy and the clubs started closing early again, there was only one option left and those that would usually spend their Fridays at Justisen and their Saturdays at Lawo, had nowhere left to go but underground. Appropriating a model from their more successful and more sincere counterparts, these kids sought refuge in a bunker, but got it disastrously wrong, by poisoning their guests and a couple of police officers with carbon monoxide, their experience woefully inadequate when compared to the real ravers, passing down knowledge from generation to generation. It says something too of the current situation that even a serious, established outfit like Uteklubb have resigned this year to a pandemic, and are only looking tentatively to the summer of 2021 to mark their return to the dance floor. 

People are still going to want to dance however, and during times of strive or uncertainty, that need for human contact, a social engagement, and some kind of release, only grows. Take the story of Tijana T, dancing in warehouses in Belgrade while bombs rained down over Belgrade. “It’s not only about social or economic circumstances, it’s also in our mentality.” she told this very blog, and while I’ve always been cautious about drawing a direct line of influence from the dance floor to politics, there is still some sense of rebellion in going out to a club and especially a rave, and there’s something mentally healthy about just stepping out of reality, even just for a night. Getting bogged down in the woes and existential crises of everyday life will have serious repercussions on anybody’s mental health, and any- and everybody will naturally seek to liberate their mind, even if it’s just for a moment in a leisurely pursuit of their choosing. We chose dancing.  

It leaves an irrecoverable mark however, when something like the event in St Hanshaugen happens, and in a case like that, where it’s completely unwarranted, having no relationship with anything that constitutes the established rave scene in Oslo, their ignorance in calling it rave and the international media on perpetuating that line can really ruin what some serious people and true enthusiasts have invested a lot of time in effort in. It’s important to me then, that you know that whatever happened in St Hanshaugen last weekend, that was no rave.  

 

* The words contained here within are the opinion of editor Mischa Mathys. The views here within don’t ncessarily reflect the views of Jaeger Oslo.

Premiere: Vinny Villbass – Liberty

Listen to a new track from Vinny Villbass taken from the upcoming 20 years of Trunkfunk compilation.

A chirpy synth sequence plays between a couple of marimbas running in counterpoint. Gated percussion, ripped from some elusive 80’s source is repurposed for a modern dance floor, stepping at a moderate tempo, enticing you over to a happy dance floor. Vinny Vilbass frees the feet on his latest, a punchy track called “Liberty” for the forthcoming 20 years of Trunkfunk compilation.

“If you listen very closely, you might recognize some drumsounds and a floaty synth from the Trunkfunk catalog,” says the chipper artist over email. “This actually started as a remix for a NIBC track, but it soon got stripped down to its own self, hence the name, Liberty!” It’s the first of twenty tracks which will feature alongside Voiski, Art Alfie and of course DJ Nibc.

Vinny Villbass has had a long standing relationship with Nibc and Trunkfunk after meeting in Berlin in 2009. “We started throwing big parties together under the name of KonTiki,” says Vinny, who remembers some “crazy lineups ” with Mano Le Tough, BrandtBrauerFrick, Olof Drejer, ToddTerje, and Axel Boman. After making some “great memories” as a club night, Vinny found himself on the Trunkfunk roster and contributed to the label with notable releases like his 2015 EP “Zip Zap.”

“Liberty” finds Vinny in a playful mood with that wonderful marimba floating on and off the beats as it makes it’s way through the peppy track. Although Vinny insists, he’s “not aiming for a Terry Riley minimalistic loop expression here” we can’t help but draw comparisons as he finds some organic pretence in the stark abyss of electronic music. “Guess I’m one of those souls that rather dance in the forrest than in a warehouse… ” he muses.

It’s the first track to come out of his newly built, yet largely empty studio, and which he describes as an “art by accident situation.” Creating it with little more than a computer and a soundcard, Vinny sat down at his makeshift controls “and booom, 3 hours later it was pretty much done.”  It had to put on the bacckburner once the pandemic hit but now it’s finally here today, and just in time for the next edition of badabing.

20 years of Trunkfunk Part 1 is out now on vinyl with the digital release arriving on the 28th of August on Traxsource and the 4th of September everywhere else.

Introducing Sous-Vide Records

Grooves entrenched in the deep recesses of dance floor archetypes; sonic landscapes thriving in the stark progressions of minimalism; and visceral arrangements touching on some deep emotive charge, this is the sound of Sous-Vide, the newest addition to the Norwegian clubbing landscape. The club concept and label with mighty aspirations in club culture, from festivals to community outreach efforts was launched last month with an event at Jaeger featuring Thomas Skjærstad, Dolbah, Pål Thomas and Matiago. 

At the centre of this new concept is Thomas Skjærstad, a DJ and producer that is no stranger to Jaeger’s booth, making waves across Norway and  Europe with his singular sound as a DJ. It’s a sound that he and Dolbah have developed in the concept of Sous-Vide and which will soon make its mark on the recorded format with the first release scheduled for this month. With tendrils stretching from Norway to Europe and South-East Asia, Sous-Vide is Norwegian based label, with international appeal, catching the ear of Mixmag amongst others ahead of its first release. 

It comes as a silver lining on a dark cloud currently casting long shadows over club- and DJ culture’s future. At a time when there’s great uncertainty over the sustainability of club culture in the age of the pandemic, there’s some hope in the continued creative efforts of a new concept like Sous-Vide. How will this situation affect the label, and why use this time to start a new label? These were some of the questions on our mind, when we heard Sous-Vide were returning to Jaeger this month so we reached out to Thomas Skjærstad to ask for a formal introduction ahead of tomorrow’s event with an exclusive stream of their last session at Jaeger. 

Hello Thomas and co. Perhaps we can start with introductions. What is Sous-Vide and who are the key players behind the label? 

Hello Jaeger! Sous-Vide Records is a small Norwegian vinyl & self releasing record label focused on the grooves of minimalism. I started this idea 3 years ago, but never got further than the planning phase because I didn’t have the right people to move forward with. The idea has been laying dormant for a while, but the spark came back about a year ago when I teamed up with Knut Kvien (Dolbah). After giving an elevator pitch of my idea during a car ride up to my studio, Knut was basically all in right from the start. We quickly realized that we share the same philosophy when it came to music and sound. 

From this point on I started developing the business plans, SWOT analysis, presentations, website prototypes and vinyl design mockups. Meanwhile, Knut was locked up in the studio producing track ideas like a madman and finding the right partner for vinyl pressing and distribution. 

After we had the plan down on paper it became clear to me that we had to bring in more resources in order to reach our goals. An important part of the launch process involves creating a series of events both in open-air and club settings, and perhaps even a small festival further down the road. This is when I brought in a passionate minimal soul and a good friend of mine from Molde: Pål Thomas. I met him through playing at a festival he organized, Hjertøya, so he was a natural choice with his experience from event infrastructure and organizing. 

I have a background as digital product developer and art director, so you could say I have a clear vision of how I want to build the SVR aesthetic. For me to be able to focus on managing the label and visual profile, I knew that I needed to bring in another resource to handle everyday tasks and social media. Hello, Mathias! Even though we’ve only known each other for about a year and a half we have already worked together on many different projects and organized several sold-out events in Oslo. Mathias has been an essential person for me to be able to get the heavy lifting done and he didn’t hesitate for a second to jump in with this project either. 

Today our little imprint consists of 4 hard-working and passionate souls who share the same vision. We are working continuously on building a sustainable platform piece by piece, connecting with good people along the way while sharing our story with the world. 

You take your name from a French cooking tradition. How does that tie into music for you and why choose that as the name of your label? 

Great question! There’s actually a lot of thought behind the name and its connection to music. Sous-Vide was innovated back in the 18th century which kind of revolutionized the world of cooking. It dramatically increased the control over temperature and pressure by vacuum sealing the food, allowing for higher precision than had ever been possible before. This enabled uncompromising chefs to consistently deliver the same, delicious taste with every single dish. For this reason it appeals to those who truly love their craft – and this aligns perfectly with my philosophy when it comes to music and the imprint. 

Where do your inspirations lie, both musical and beyond for Sous-Vide? 

About a year ago I felt quite conflicted when it came to my music, kind of dragged between different directions not having a clue of which path to take on. After releasing the Grønland EP with Granbar which made it to 1st place in Beatport releases, I felt like I had to keep producing Progressive House and Techno tracks. The crazy thing about it all is that I didn’t really feel like home in the genre and at some point after playing Techno every gig for about 3 years I started to feel a bit stressed and unbalanced on the inside. 

In January this year my girlfriend and I decided to visit Epizode festival in Vietnam, and that turned out to be the tipping point for me. Being down there on the festival grounds made me feel something I had been missing for a while both musically and personally; a sense of peace and balance, family, and unity. When talking about inspiration don’t even get me started on the music some of these guys were playing… Like seeing Aesel Weiss and Tal Cohen all the way from The Block Club in Tel Aviv seducing the crowd at 9AM at the Egg Stage – that set was like musical education to me. Absolutely mind blowing and I just had to make Asael part of our SVR family.When music becomes more sophisticated and with unexpected elements, it requires more focus from the listener to fully understand and enjoy the music to its fullest potential. To me this translates into an interesting listening experience that can go on and on without becoming boring. 

Much of my driveforce and inspiration also lies in connecting like minded humble souls in a small, tight-knit family where we can create a space for sharing ideas, knowledge and inspiration between us. 

You launched the label at Jaeger last month with the debut release still in the works. What encouraged you to start the label and what should we expect from that first release, when it does arrive? 

The soft launch at Jaeger last month was important to us as it gave us a chance to present our sonic image and some of our upcoming releases. It was a great night that we enjoyed with support from good friends in the scene. We’ve been keeping busy since then, so the whole release schedule for 2020 and through Q2 2021 is actually complete already. Exciting times! 

Basically, the Sous-Vide Records catalogue will consist of two branches in the future; SVR and SVRSR where SVR contains the physical format and vinyl releases, and SVRSR will be our digital self-releasing branch. Our first release is a beautiful 4 track EP by the talented artist Mica (UK) who’s currently stationed in Manila in the Philippines. We feel that Mica really fits well with our vision for the first release as it both challenges our sound and the listener in several ways. You can expect elements of break beats and fresh house cuts with a dash of surprise baked into lush and harmonic soundscapes. The EP will be available on our Bandcamp page this month. This first release will be followed up by the prominent Thailand-based producer DOTT who is currently establishing a physical record store in the heart of Bangkok City. 

Now, our first vinyl release is going to be something special. This 4-track EP is a real masterpiece by the Israel based producer Asael Weiss containing 3 solo tracks and a remix from the Romanian wizard RQZ. Over the past 5 years, Asael has been holding the badge as resident for The Block Club in Tel Aviv, which is counted as a musical institution that is delivering some of the best sound in the world. The vinyl will arrive in October or November and will be an important milestone for us as we put a lot of money, time and effort into making this happen. Our goal is that each individual vinyl will represent a story and to be looked upon as a timeless piece of art both visually and musically. 

Further on we have a 3 track vinyl from Marwan Sabb known from Dubfire ́s label SciTech which over the past years made appearances at events such as Time Warp and Cercle. Marwan will be accompanied by a remix from our own lads Thomas & Dolbah. Following up in high tempo, RQZ will deliver his own solo record and as for the 4th release Thomas & Dolbah will deliver 3 tracks + a remixer that is secret for now. 

Is there a sonic philosophy to Sous Vide and how will it inform the artists and the music on the label? 

There absolutely is a clear sonic philosophy behind the music we are curating and creating. To me it’s important to maintain a clear and consistent musical identity but at the same time a label should have some color to it as well. To translate our sonic signature to releasing artists is key to avoiding mistakes and ending up with tracks that are not suitable for the label in the end. A situation like that would be challenging and frustrating both for the artist and label. 

The coming six months will help us set the foundation for our sonic identity where each artist and release will represent its own outer point on the sonic spectrum. The ultimate goal would be that people would start recognizing unreleased tracks and say “Oh this must be an SVR release” ;) 

It’s a very precarious time to be launching a label, as clubs are still not able to operate under normal conditions and fewer DJ gigs. So why launch a label of this nature now, and how do you think the situation will affect the nature of the label going forward? 

For us the current situation has actually been a positive driving force in establishing our imprint. Once upon a time a wise man told me It’s in times of turmoil that people with a fine idea make it good. To be frank we have been given more time to evaluate and consider everything from strategy, marketing and promo down to searching for the artists and talents we believe will contribute to shaping the future of SVR. 

Building on this, the lockdown situation has pushed large parts of our audience into a position of listening rather than one of partying. For us, this is actually ok as our music is best enjoyed with a degree of focus and attention to detail. Now that many clubs are open but with dancing restrictions, we feel our sonic image suits well with peacefully moving hips enjoying a cold brew in Jaeger’s back yard. 

Your next event at Jaeger will be your third in a month and all this before the first record. What is the significance of the club concept alongside the label? 

Well, there’s a couple of aspects to it actually. We want to help undiscovered minimal artists in Norway to grow and find their footing, while also showcasing our in-house productions and upcoming releases. The order of things is intentional – we’re basically trying to express and help people understand our sonic signature before the first release lands. 

If we look at the bigger picture, there isn’t really a established minimal scene to speak of in Norway and we see it as our mission to help spread the music that we love across the country, while contributing to a healthy growth in the community. 

Will the club events be about testing what works for the floor or providing a platform for the artists and the releases that will make up the Sous-Vide catalogue? 

More of the latter, I think. We are all feeling confident about our sound and what direction our music should go in, so it’s more about creating a fundament and stage for our artists to grow from. It’s also a part of attracting people to our sound and building a community piece by piece. 

The set we’re streaming today was taken from the first event. How do you approach a genre like Techno in the current situation, and in what way did you have to adapt the music to make it work? 

These questions can be a little tricky since it all comes down to our subjective relationship with the term “techno”. To me it’s not a great description of our music and carries with it a more intense, pounding sound. Our music is strictly groove-based minimal that is focusing more on the elegant side of electronic dance music. Given that what we play is naturally a bit muted and less intense, I think we haven’t really had to adapt much at all. In any case way less than someone playing what I think of as techno, in a setting where people can’t get their steam out on the dance floor. 

Is this something that proved to give Sous-Vide and advantage compared to a more traditional approach to the genre in this situation? 

I don’t know if we could call it an advantage given the current situation, but we believe our audience is naturally more in the zone to pay attention to the music and not necessarily the party going on around them. 

Dolbah, Matiago and Pål Thomas joined you the last time at Jaeger. What do these DJs represent for you that’s ingrained in the approach of the label? 

Well, the four of us actually make up the SVR administration right now. Each person holds a key role in the label and are also part owners. 

Keeping in mind the last part of your question, one of my key goals is for SVR to work as a platform for our artists to grow from. Take Matiago and Pål Thomas for example: they are young, up-and-coming artists in the Norwegian scene, and through the imprint they get opportunities to play on good stages with an interested crowd. Seeing moments like these guys’ first gig in the Jaeger backyard is priceless and motivates me to keep working with music. 

It’s a real and passionate journey we have started that I’m super excited to see where it goes. 

Are the DJ’s relevant to the label, or is there a definite distinction between the DJs that you book for an event, and the artists that you’ll put out on the label? 

There is no definite distinction between the DJs and the artists as we will book releasing artists to our events and compliment the lineup with our in-house residents. Some of us like myself & Dolbah will also deliver productions to the label as well as playing gigs. We think all artists booked to an SVR event are relevant to the label because they curate our sonic image. 

Have you finalised the lineup for the next event, and what should people expect for this one? 

Yes I have! We are bringing the two minimal lads Rado and Yordan Kirilov from Trondheim to extend the sound in the sauna together with our residents. These guys for sure know how to keep the groove rolling so expect sexy minimal house cuts and a lot of unreleased SVR tracks. 

We look forward to having you back. Anything you’d like to add before we see you in the sauna? 

I’m really looking forward for our next Sauna adventure as well. Actually, there is one more important thing I want to share with you: 

As you know, our name means “under vacuum”. We want to give back to our local community, and we see it as our mission to help people who might feel like they’re stuck in a vacuum. Walking through the streets of Oslo there are many people who could use a helpful hand, and even the smallest of gestures can make a difference in someone’s life. For example, we plan to contribute by designating part of the proceeds from our overall sales towards providing warm clothes to those who are facing a cold and unforgiving winter here in Oslo. This means all people buying an SVR release will directly contribute to help our friends on the streets.

 

Greetings from Jaeger – A summer like no other

There’s been a tendency in the media to compare our current situation to a lived-experience we’ve not confronted since the second world war. While I’ve found the comparison somewhat disproportionate to the horrifying reality of a war situation, at the same time it doesn’t quite capture just how extraordinary these times are. 

The countless lives lost to this unseen terror, where a mere sniffle to some could be life threatening to others and the constant thought of passing some inconspicuous disease onto somebody else or vice versa, as had us completely re-assess every aspect of how we live our lives. Everything from the way that we work to the way we socialise has changed drastically from the ordinary, and it’s hard to estimate what the permanent repercussions of the coronavirus will eventually be for the human race. Will we go on sneezing forever, our nose buried in our elbows, will the greeting as embrace eventually cease to exist, or will we forever be watching DJ sets from our computer screens?

 While we’re all very hopeful that a vaccine will be forthcoming, this could take years according to even the most liberal estimations and with cases flaring and as the virus continues to take lives, we have to accept these measures as the new norm in our society, at least for the time-being. But as humans we’ve always been resilient and we easily adapt to our circumstances, especially during a time of crisis. Part of our coping mechanism with difficult situations is the need to escape mentality, even if it’s just for a moment, and pursue a leisure activity, to regather the strength to go forward. And that’s why we dance.

For the best part of human existence music and dancing has played a significant role in the purely hedonistic pursuit in our coping mechanism and in the era of electronic dance music, the modern day club has been both initiating the desire and fulfilling the need for generations wanting to escape their daily circumstances. Whether it’s simply finding an outlet for work frustrations or the far more serious escape from racially- or gender incited persecution, club culture is always in constant dialogue with its social- and cultural surroundings to a point where it’s almost always at odds with the world around it. It’s possibly the last truly liberal safe space and that’s why it’s more important than ever that we persevere in our endeavours as a club at Jaeger. 

While the dance floor remains an elusive concept, we’ve been resolute in our efforts to keep the music going and give whatever counts for a scene a home. You might have seen/heard us streaming as we strived to reach those that can’t reach us under the strict conditions of the pandemic and when our diligent residents answered our call as we tentatively kick-started Jaeger’s sound system in May

Playing at a restrained volume and on a tempered beat, we’ve been able to facilitate a limited capacity and a seated audience with a reserved  DJ schedule, shortly after the most severe restrictions were lifted. During this time Finnebassen has joined our ranks as the defacto Thursday resident and Olle Abstract has taken over Sundays, spreading the gospel of House for a new concept called Sunday Service. 

Olle Abstract inaugurated the new concept under the pretext of Black Lives Matter after we bared witness yet again to the institutionalised racism in the American justice system after the  killing of George Floyd. It not only jarred – how can this type of thing still be happening? – but it also opened our eyes to the institutionalised racism happening everywhere, and even affecting some of our closest friends at Jaeger. Jaeger and Olle Abstract  dedicated the Sunday Service to the cause in an effort to raise funds for the cause with a DJ marathon from our sauna booth, with all proceeds going to the Black Lives Matter organisation. It  is but a drop in the ocean compared to what Black American music has given us, so this will not just be an isolated event at Jaeger, and we’ll continue to monitor the situation and help out where we can. We can always do better.

It seemed that between covid-19 and Black Lives Matter, issues kept expounding on each other, in some gloomy apocalyptic glare at our future, and it’s now more than ever that we need some kind respite from the real world, even just for a moment. Luckily we still have the music and as of June we’ve been allowed to stay open longer and move a little freer. We’ve started stretching the legs on our sound system just a little more as we pushed up the tempo and the volume, and while we still can’t accommodate a densely packed dance floor like the kind we had at Richie Hawtin in 2019 under the new regulations, a  shuffle at your table is welcomed and even encouraged. 

In part due to Ola Smith-Simonsen, the authorities pushed through the new 03:00 AM opening hours, but we’re still focussed on the health and safety of our patrons and our staff. We’ll be practising social distancing throughout July, including the queue outside and we urge everybody to help us contain the spread of this virus. The sooner we can curb it, the sooner we can get back to the dance floor. 

With that in mind  we’ve assembled a lineup representing the best of Oslo in July, playing from our sauna with our newly established residencies Sunday Service and Finnebassen settled and a new residency in the form of Loving Tuesdays, presented by Vari Loves starting this month. Our weekday favourite and longest-serving residency, Mandagsklubben is back and we’re operating at seven days a week again… the way it should be. Prins Thomas also returns in July for the second edition of Serenity Now(!) on Saturday the 25th and on Wednesdays we continue to pursue a kaleidoscopic melange of musical flavours from Drum n Bass to Techno.

Downstairs, you might have already heard the low rumble coming from our subterranean cabin as we shake loose the speaker enclosures of the sound system. Ola has been tuning and fiddling there throughout June because as of July we’ll be hosting selected nights from Diskon again. Yes the basement floor will gather dust no longer as g-HA, DJ Ost, Øyvind Morken and Roland Lifjell take up position in the booth throughout Frædag in July.

It is truly the first time in my 5-year history at Jaeger that I’ve seen an all-star Oslo lineup like this, and while the covid-19 situation is hardly something to find positives in, I’m hoping that we can finally turn the focus back on the resident and local DJ during this time. I’ve always been astounded by the quality of DJs in the city, and I’ve often found it a bit odd that we’ve placed so much emphasis on the “booking” than on the DJ  right on our doorstep. If there is one silver-lining that I hope that we take from this is that we realise the importance of the resident DJ, the true facilitator, somebody so embedded in a scene with an intimate knowledge of their dance floor and their audience standing on threshold, rather than warming up for somebody who is often less attuned to Oslo’s needs.

This will be the summer of the resident amongst other things, and we hope you’ll join us as we try to find some solace in these truly unprecedented times. We’ll do everything in our power to ensure your health and safety and provide some escape from the daily worries, even if it’s just a moment of repose as we continue to live with what could become the new norm. We hope you have a good summer and that we can share some of it with you.

See you on the dance floor….

BigUP! – The first and last frontier for DnB and jungle in Oslo

Drum n Bass is stronger than ever and in Oslo where it’s popularity has never waned in the margins of club music, a crew has emerged from the depths of the scene to fly the flag for the genre from this wave to the next. BigUP has been a fundamental force in the current push happening in Oslo, resonating with a renewed interest in the genre happening all around the world. 

Constituting a few generations of DJs and producers who cover the vast expanse of DnB and Jungle, BigUP represents every nuanced corner of the genre and community in Norway. Over the last few years they’ve been bringing sounds from liquid to hardcore to club spaces around Oslo, with regular appearances at Jaeger. They came back to their traditional midweek spot at Jaeger two weeks ago with the cameras trained on them. 

Even during these difficult times, Drum n Bass proved itself resilient yet again, as BigUP made a show of their expansive interpretation of all things drum n Bass and Jungle with Lug00ber, Tech, Drunkfunk, Simon Petter and Fjell representing the crew from our sauna. In the down time between their visit and now, we reached you to the bigUP! crew to ask some questions while we premiere their set on YouTube. 

Tell me about the origins of BigUP! and the circumstances and ideas that informed the beginning of the crew?

Fjell: Late 2017 the guitar player of my band sent me a link to an announcement by Oslo Sportsbar, in which they were looking for DJ’s to play on a monthly basis. 

Having had a concept before (Percussive Maintenance at Skuret bar in Oslo) I sent in my resume, i.e. some poster designs and mixes.  

In January 2018 I got invited to do a short test run in the bar which I did together with Drunkfunk, and from that point on we kept playing on a monthly basis. Late 2018 we moved to Naboens pub’s basement and have been playing there until the quarantine in April 2020, together with the gigs at Jaeger.

The main thought behind Bigup is to let people have a proper night out at a concept where they can expect the deeper and more soulful styles of D’n’B and Jungle. 

Typical for our concept is to have the DJs play 2 half-hour sets: An early and late slot, which brings a lot of variety in both style and tempo. This also gives the DJs the opportunity to play for a smaller and larger audience during the nights.   

How did you all find each other, and was there anything constituting a scene that brought you together?

Fjell: We pretty much ran into each other during the different DnB nights that ran the last decade and a half here in Oslo, both on the dancefloor and behind the decks. The scene here is pretty open and in general both the audience and DJ’s are very easy going. So I can say we were friends quite some years before we became the ‘Bigup’ crew.

My first thought after getting the monthly gig was to share it with the DJ’s I knew who had the drive and the experience from running other concepts:

Drunkfunk and Tech I know from ‘Room 101’ at the Villa, I knew they could deliver good sets and their selections would really compliment mine.

Simon Peter I know from ‘SubPub’ at Maksitaksi (RIP), where he on a weekly basis kept the underground DnB scene alive and delivered deep selections that would fit Bigup perfectly.   

-Tech: I actually played as a guest DJ a couple of times before getting “voted in” for a steady position in the crew ;)  

Who is BigUp! today?

– Drunkfunk: Residents are Fjell, Tech, Simon Peter and Drunkfunk but we are known to invite a lot of local talents.

Drum n Bass in Norway for me seems to congregate around a small but dedicated community today, but what is the history behind the genre here and where do you guys factor into it?

– Drunkfunk: We have to give a massive shout out to the one like DJ Subway for promoting local DJs with Room101 at The Villa for over 10 years and counting. He is now living in Bergen and building the scene there. The scene might be small but not lacking DJ’s with variation of styles. What we lack in size we take back in consistency over many years. 

With Bigup we like to play jungle and DnB from the last three decades to brand new music all in one night.

– Fjell: It is like the Asterix comics; DnB in Norway is the rebellious little village that won’t give in to the greater powers, being house/techno and pop music (The Romans in the comics). We cannot blame the clubs for choosing the more popular genres to attract a larger audience, but as a subculture it feels like we really have to prove ourselves more nowadays.

Luckily, clubs like Jaeger give subcultures like DnB the chance to develop and reach a larger audience. 

-Tech: The popularity of Jungle and DnB in Oslo (and Norway) has had its highs and lows over the years since I moved to Oslo in the early nineties, but being in a good, solid crew helps us to never give up.

Some of DnB’s biggest stars like TeeBee is Norwegian. What is it about the genre that resonates with Norwegian artists and DJs like yourselves?

– Drunkfunk: Future Prophecies, TeeBee and K sure helped to put it on the map here early. Still remember the first time I heard TeeBee track “Fingerprints” on the radio.

-Tech: TeeBee was a resident DJ back in the days when the The Jazid Club started doing the Oxygen DnB nights and it meant a lot. (Jazid was the first proper club I played at and Oxygen was the first crew I joined in Oslo)

TeeBee has been important for the scene and truly deserves the success he has today.

Like so many underground cultures, DnB too went through a heightened phase of popularity with some questionable examples coming to the fore. How do you distinguish the core fundamentals of genre from its more gaudy, insincere interpretations?

– Drunkfunk: We never pay any attention to the charts. DnB has a healthy underground foundation with a well of music to choose from.

– Fjell:  Very much so, only a select few can make a living from DJ-ing and/ or producing DnB, but there are more popular styles that attract a larger audience. They have very little in common with what we play on our nights. 

-Simon: 100% underground. This is without a doubt a labour of love. A shared appreciation of the sound. 

– Tech: Sure, there are DnB charts helping people to discover the genre, but I think we´re more into finding the tracks WE love and presenting them to the audience.

It seems that the genre is experiencing a bit of a revival today, especially amongst younger audiences. Why do you think it’s gained popularity recently again?

– Drunkfunk: DnB is the parent to dubstep that came out in the mid 2000s. I think kids growing up with dubstep as their soundtrack are likely to explore its roots.

– Fjell: I think streaming services like Youtube and Spotify make it easier to find out about DnB and Jungle. The younger generation is somewhat fascinated by 90’s rave culture – Partying seemed less restricted, something I think still resonates with DnB nights. 

-Simon: Not really feeling the growth in Norway, but going to festivals like Outlook in Croatia you can easily see how popular the sound is with youth from all over the planet. DnB never really went away, but it’s definitely making a comeback.

-Tech: It´s always good to see new faces at our parties, but the scene is still quite small, so we never know how many people will turn up each time.

And what sets this era apart from the late nineties early 2000’s when it was at the absolute height of its popularity?

-Drunkfunk: Since the late 90s DnB grew to a worldwide scene online. DnB has always been in fusion with current music and pushing for the freshest sound. The difference now is that we have a back catalog of gems from the last 20 years.

– Fjell: Producing has become more accessible, the sound has become more organic and there are a lot more subgenres than before. Thanks to modern hardware and software it is easier to get into making DnB and experimenting with the sound.

-Tech: Yeah, agree with Fjell here, it´s much easier for new artists and small labels to do releases these days, both digital and on vinyl.

From what I can tell, the BigUP! Crew is made up of a few generations of DJs.  How does the crew keep evolving through each generation? 

– Drunkfunk: That is a great question! 

-Tech: Well, yeah, I´m the oldest one in the crew, but it’s nice to see that new generations (both DJ´s and crowd) have been finding the DnB scene. We don’t care too much about the age difference in the crew, we focus on the music and we inspire each other!

What are some of the seminal DnB classics that you can all agree on?

– Drunkfunk: “Up all night” – John B

– Fjell: ”The Angels fell” – Dillinja

-Simon: “Stalker”  Aphrodite

-Tech: This is too hard!  Q Project – Champion Sound (Alliance Remix) (plus the original and a lot of other remixes)

What is the common thread that ties all these generations together?

– Drunkfunk: Great passion for basslines

– Fjell:  DnB’s easy access. It’s often a blend of different cultures, looks and age on the dancefloor.  No one seems to judge.

– Simon: Love for the sound.

– Tech: Rhythm is key.

And what in your opinion are some of the future stars of the genre here in Norway and further afield and what are some of the newer tracks that are inspiring you today?

– Fjell:  Next to myself (https://soundcloud.com/fjellmusic) I only know a few other people in Norway that are actively producing and releasing, for Jungle I would say ‘Msymiakos’ (https://soundcloud.com/msymiakos) and for Liquid tunes I’d recommend ‘Nostre’ (https://soundcloud.com/nostre-official).

Let’s not forget our frequent guest ‘Lug00ber’ (https://soundcloud.com/lug00ber) and our friends in “Skankin’ Oslo” (https://soundcloud.com/skankinoslo)

Newer tracks that inspired me: ”Jungle Crack” – Forest Drive West , ”True Rebellion” Coco Bryce ft Dead Man’s Chest

– Simon: Watch out for the one they call Bootldr! https://www.mixcloud.com/bootldrDNB/

Is there anything else you’d like to add before we see you again?

Massive BigUps to all the supporting clubbers that have partied with us!

And to the Junglist DJs: Lug00ber, The Skankin’ Oslo kru, Mira Mark, DJ Subway, Harold Lloyd, DJ Hova, DJ Spacebear, DJ Dunder, Digital Cookboy , Instance, This Mean War!, DJ Saraa, Bootldr, DJ Large, Psychofreud, DJ Apecat(RIP), Tony Anthem and Future Prophecies

Thanks to Jæger to having us onboard.

Sunday Service: Black Lives Matter Fundraiser

Olle Abstract and Jaeger dedicates this Sunday Service to the black Lives Matter movement and the victims of racial injustice

Black Lives Matter. Jaeger is the result of the influence of Black American culture on music, and therefore we will always stand in solidarity with all the people behind the Black Lives Matter movement and the victims of racism in America. As a community of mostly white, European music enthusiasts living in Norway we can never assume to know the experiences of Black people, but we’ll support Black Lives and Black Culture in any way we can, because we owe everything to the existence of Black Music, especially House, Techno and Electro. 

Needless to say, we are absolutely appalled by the killing of George Floyd and the unwarranted police attacks – largely incited by the racist tyrant, Donald Trump –  that followed and we stand united with the protesters and the Black Lives Matter movement. As people that have indelibly benefited from the black music culture, we condemn these actions and we would like to add our voice to the growing chorus of dissent and call for an end to the senseless killing of Black people in America and the institutionalised racism that still exists in the US police forces and political elite. We realise that we have white privilege on our side and we’d like to use that privilege today in voicing our absolute contempt for any form of racism, starting with a fundraiser for Black Lives Matter. 

After observing #TheShowMustBePaused, we’re dedicating this Sunday’s edition of the Sunday Service with Olle Abstract to George Floyd, his family and all the victims of racially incited police brutality in the USA. We will donate all the takings from the door on the night to the Black Lives Matter who is currently working tirelessly to end the war on black lives in the USA by mobilising these protests with the “vision to eradicate white supremacy and build local power to intervene in violence inflicted on Black communities by the state and vigilantes.”

This is an evening of reverence for Black Lives and Black American Culture so please join Olle and guests in solemn protest as they pick through a legacy enshrined in the records that sparked a life-long obsession and a career. Claes Hogedal, Daniel Gude, Della, Fredfades, Phardin, Ra-Shidi, WNDR and more join the godfather of House music in Norway in the sauna booth in a show of solidarity from our humbled community, saying thank you to the culture that created this music as we stand united in their cause. 

For more information please go to Black Lives Matter and the TheShowMustBePaused

Here are some other helpful resources:

Equal Justice Initiative

Official George Floyd Memorial Fund

Community Bail Funds for George Floyd protests

 

Greetings from Jaeger: Still streaming

We bid farewell to Retro on Thursdays and inaugurate a new Sunday concept with Olle Abstract

These unprecedented times have called for some unusual measures, ushering in a very… unique era for our culture and this music, with everything from DJs to festivals migrating to the virtual realm of streaming platforms. Even in Oslo, where we’ve seen some of the restrictions lifted early, we’ve still had to adapt to the challenging  situation. With a limited capacity and seating room only we’re bringing the party to your screen, streaming every DJ set live to mixcloud from our sauna DJ booth in our backyard.

Our residents and some old friends have gathered in the booth under the camera’s lens these past two weeks to deliver sets that err on the temperate side to accommodate the nature of the situation. Frædag, Nightflight and Retro have hosted lineups featuring the residents and guests with pop-up concepts like Mutual Intentions and Big UP!  jumping in where needed. For the last two weeks they’ve been playing to the intimate crowd in our backyard while our watchful eye, broadcasted sets from the likes g-HA, Olefonken, Fredfades, Daniel Gude, Kompressorkanonen, Doc L, Junior and Olanskii to the rest of the world as part of our new JaegerStream series.

In the third week of JaegerStream we do more of the same, with Frædag, Nightflight and Retro in situ for a long weekend, which sees us bid farewell to the longest serving residency on our weekly calendar and welcome Olle Abstract back to Jaeger with a new Sunday residency. Although, it’s not exactly business as usual here yet, we’re maintaining some sliver of a remanence for our culture and this music, and while the dance floor remains closed, we can at least bring a little of the groove back to our lives, through the new streaming event.

The big news this week  at JaegerStream is that we bid farewell to Retro on Thursdays. Daniel Gude has been at the helm of the longest serving residency at Jaeger since opening and between international bookings and local legends, he and Retro has been honouring the roots of this music all this time. With an esteemed alumni that runs the gamut from Jeff Mills to Sotofett and from Daniel’s extensive record collection, Retro has been our unwavering guide through the classics and future classics of our scene. Daniel Gude hands over the Thursday night to Finnebassen this week, who inaugurates his new concept next week, but while Daniel bids farewell to Thursdays he and Retro will come back on some select Saturdays in the future.

Finnebassen is not the only one bringing a new residency to Jaeger this week as Olle Abstract returns to Jaeger for a new Sunday Service concept. It’s a spiritual movement in music for a different kind of Sunday mass at Jaeger with g-HA as his first guest. We use the long weekend for the first edition of Sunday Service with Whit Monday on the other end to soothe the soul. We’re still not able to go as long or as hard as we’re used to, but we’ll continue to bring the music and the party where we can, even to your screen. Thanks for tuning in…

Greetings from Jaeger.

 

In the booth with David Morales

David Morales has forgotten more about House music than any artist working within the field today can claim to know. The New York DJ, producer, remixer and label owner was there at the advent of the genre, counting Frankie Knuckles and Larry Levan as contemporaries. He had played the Paradise Garage, frequented the Loft and held residencies at places like Zanzibar, but his biggest contribution, remains in his efforts in bringing House music to the masses with remixes for Mariah Carey, Jamiroquai and Michael Jackson dotting an ever-impressive discography.

Alongside Frankie Knuckles, he established the Def Mix label, and as a DJ he was one of the first DJs ever to warrant the superstar status and toured the world. Highlights in the House music lexicon regularly dot his career. Winning the grammy for remixer of the year, sets and residencies during Ibiza’s late nineties reign; and tracks like “Needin’ you,” had maintained his prominence in the House music scene which culminates today in a continued appeal as a world-renowned DJ and producer. David Morales has had a career in House music three times over and in his latest venture, the label DIRIDIM, he’s established yet another new phase in a career that continues to evolve without losing sight of those all-important roots of the genre. 

A figure that assumes the legacy of the genre and the New York faction of its roots, David Morales represents a ideology that we’ve always tried to encourage and underscore at Jaeger and during a recent set at Frædag, he helped g-HA & Olanskii and Olefonken instill this ideology again. Between gospel-influenced vocals, syncopated hats, deep bass grooves and four on the floor kicks, David Morales put together a set of mostly original music and edits, bridging the gap between the origins of this music and its future. 

We caught up with Mr. Morales whortly after to ask some questions while we listen back to his enigmatic set, recorded in our basement. You can read a full profile on him here.

Thank you for taking the time to answer these questions for us. We really enjoyed your set here and particularly listening back to it today. Did playing at Jaeger, direct you in any way  you thought you might not have gone into ahead of the night? 

Not at all. Before I accepted the gig I was told that the night was all about house music and that the crowd appreciated good music.

All those classic elements of House are in there, the vocals, the syncopated percussion and four on the floor. While those core elements remain, House has gone through an immense evolution through the course of your career, but what is the ultimate appeal for you as a DJ that keeps you interested and excited about the genre? 

There’s a lot of good new music out. The problem is that you have to listen to a lot of bad music to find it. You have to evolve with the times. The game has changed but music is still music. And people still like to dance to music. I’ve tried every format of Djing as in vinyl, CDJ’s and computer. They’re all interesting. At the end of the day it’s about the music.

I’ve read some interviews where you’ve mentioned that you weren’t really that inspired or influenced by your Latin roots and music, but I thought I heard some Latin rhythms in this mix in the beginning. What is your relationship with those roost today?

It’s funny because since I became a producer/songwriter I got to really appreciate my roots. I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate it earlier. But I love a good rhythm and when it comes to latin music it’s all about the rhythm.

As somebody that was at the forefront of House music from the beginning, do you feel that distance between you and your audience has grown and how do you try and maintain that relevance? 

That’s a very interesting question… As a DJ that’s been playing for 44 years, I’ve outgrown my audience twice easily, maybe even 3 times. I mean most of the people that I grew up with got married, kids even grandchildren. They don’t represent the scene today like they did when they were younger. If I wasn’t Djing I wouldn’t be going out clubbing unless it’s a reunion night. I know that I’m not in the same demand as I was 10,15, 20 years ago. All DJ’s come up with a following. The hard part is maintaining some sort of relevance. I’m lucky that DJing has no age limit. And as long as you stay current with your music, the art of Djing is what it is.

How do you think the role of the DJ has changed from when you first started playing to today? 

Well technology for one. And now you have social media. Also the biggest change is set times. Rarely does a DJ play the whole night. So the biggest thing is that there’s no continuity or should I say flow. Therefore there are less risks taken. It’s hard to express yourself when you only have 1-2 hours to play. Also the DJ was not the focal point. You were up in the clouds somewhere or hidden in the corner. And let’s face it the money has changed DRAMATICALLY!

Besides “Finally” at the end, all the pieces in your mix favour a contemporary. What do you look for in music today to make it into your sets, and where do you draw the line when it comes to older pieces?

Most of my set is 90% of my new productions and remixes mixed in with other new music. I, on occasion, throw in a classic. What makes a good DJ is choosing good music.

Are you still editing / remixing lots of music to work in your sets today?

Yes very much. I’m in the studio almost everyday during the week. I’m always prepared. I always travel with my studio. Thank god for technology.

It seems that since establishing Diridim, you’ve been far more active in making and producing music again. What inspired you to start your own label again, and what has the label encouraged in terms of music for you?

After DEF MIX I felt that it was time for a new chapter. It’s why I started DIRIDIM which means “the rhythm”. Diridim is all about where my head is at now musically. I want to experiment with new sounds and talent, there’s so much talent out there. I want to branch out into world music and bridge it all together.

Those distinctive elements in your music, the vocals and the progression through your tracks remains central to your work on the label. What are some of the fundamental ideologies that inform your work and the label and how has it evolved throughout your career? 

I grew up on an intro, break and outro. The journey that a track or song is supposed to take you on. It’s no different than any kind of music.

What effect has launching the label and this new music had on your DJ sets? 

It has had a huge effect on my sets. The only difference is that I’m playing my own music more than others. 

Club music and House music is so popular today,  and although it still feels quite a way off from its peak in the mid to late nineties, you’ve experienced it all before I imagine. So, from experience alone, where do you see the music going from here and what do you hope to get out of it in the future?

I just hope to see and keep music alive and thriving.

Seizing the moment with Optimo

Back in the late nineties, there was something close to a movement of music enthusiasts that sought to redefine the parameters of what constitutes a DJ and a club night. It was a bolstered by an unique attitude and an innovative pursuit that defied any idea of zeitgeist or tradition for the sake of infusing some excitement on stale dance floosr. It went from some unilateral persuasion amongst a handful of DJs to spread across the world in a complete shift in the universal spirit to DJing and club nights, and today some of these DJs are held in the highest esteem the world over. 

In Glasgow and Scotland Optimo Espacio held court in this era. The club night and DJ duo, often foreshortened to simply Optimo, had not merely instilled this new attitude to DJing and clubbing in Scotland, but eventually played a significant hand in setting the stage for what soon became an international pre-occupation to dig further and deeper through their record collections, flouting the preconceptions and conventions that had become entrenched in club culture.

J.G Wilkes and J.D Twitch (Keith McIvor) are Optimo, and their club night, Optimo Espacio at Sub Club in Glasgow had been a kind of Mecca for clubbing enthusiasts for over 13 years before they brought it to its inevitable conclusion at the height of its popularity. From the club night, they became sensations on the international DJ circuit and set up Optimo records and various sub-labels as a continuation of the indelible spirit they continue to cultivate from the booth. 

Their legacy is enshrined today in the annals of DJing and clubbing and as Optimo, they continue to imbibe the spirit which has set them apart since their humble beginnings, playing to intimate crowds in Sub Club. Today they are fixtures on an international DJ circuit that they helped establish and through new releases like Bergsonist’s latest on Optimo records, they continue to flout preconceptions and conventions. With a return-visit to Jaeger looming for Hubbas Klubb, we’ve seized the opportunity to send through some questions to the DJ duo in an effort to find out more about the origins of their club night and their continued pursuit of that individual attitude to DJing. 

*Optimo play Hubbas Klubb this Saturday.

Hello guys, and thank you for taking the time to answer these questions. When you started working together and established the Optimo Espacio night. What kind of music were you bonding over at that time and how did it inform what would eventually become the night?

J.G Wilkes: I really think it was more a case of us bonding over the type of music we DIDN’T want to play – that which was prevalent in a lot of clubs and parties around the mid to late 90’s. Something that people were calling Techno but which wasn’t Techno at all! We wanted to play “other” records at the party and make it really fun to play. It was precarious at times and it felt that anything might happen musically. I loved that about it and I would definitely align that kind of excitement with a sense of freedom which is so important when I think about what we do. Maybe that is the appeal of Optimo to a lot of people – I hope so anyhow.

It’s important to remember that it was very much about the people who supported and attended so faithfully week in and week out. They made the Optimo (Espacio) party what it was.

How does it affect your approach to Djing when playing together?

Wilkes: We kept it fun and when something is fun it’s easy to keep your enthusiasm for it and keep challenging oneself. I guess there must be a shared energy we possess for making what we do evolve and stay interesting. 

Jonnie you came from an art background, and Optimo Espacio came at a time when there was a confluence between clubland and the artworld. Were these two things something you could consolidate around Optimo Espacio as well?

Wilkes: At that time I was still showing work and was represented by a couple of galleries but I wanted to withdraw from the art world. I was finding it increasingly difficult to exist there for many reasons. When Optimo Espacio started we were building something from scratch and that was a great opportunity for me to both commit fully to dj-ing but also to get a degree of fulfilment from “making” and “doing” visual stuff as well… 

You’ve said in the past there was an idea for the night before it happened. What was that initial idea and how did it change through the course of its lifetime?

Wilkes: The best way I can describe our initial idea was that we seized the opportunity to play a real breadth of music in a club context – at a location (The Sub Club, Glasgow) that was pretty much known only for house music prior to that. It was something we really craved at the time and that I personally had not been brave enough to do very often before. There was no manifesto or rigid strategy initiated when we embarked on the journey but I would say, our openness to all sorts of music coupled with a kind of DIY approach to organising the parties – a quite anarchic spirit for want of a better term remains with us still.

In a recent Interview with Erol Alkan, he mentioned you as one of the contemporary spirits in the international DJ community – DJs that were essentially bringing a much needed diversity to dance floors again. Were you aware that the diversity of you were bringing to your nights was happening simultaneously all over the world at that time, or were you operating in a pretty isolated scene? 

J.D Twitch: We had no idea initially; not a clue. We started Optimo in 1997. I didn’t get on the internet until 1999 / 2000 and it was only maybe around 2002/3 that we became aware of other kindred spirits and started to play outside Scotland.

How was it all interpreted differently perhaps in Glasgow compared to places like London and Paris?

Twitch: I think people in Glasgow, at least back then, were less concerned with being caught up with perceptions of cool and just 100% devoted themselves to having the best possible time, and having wide open ears.

Sub Club played a pivotal role in the success of the night too. What made it so special, and do you think it was something that you could have recreated in any other venue

Twitch:  It was by far the best venue in the city but the thing that was really important was that they believed in us, much more than we did ourselves. For the first 18 months of doing our weekly nights there the crowd was wildly enthusiastic but small. Maybe 100 people would come which was fine with us but probably not financially good for the club. I think after a few months of this most venues would have booted us out but The Sub Club really believed this was something important and was going to really take off, and of course they were right.

When you started playing abroad as Optimo, how were you able to transport that spirit of your nights to different places all over the world? 

Twitch:  By not giving a fuck really, but actually it was probably more naivety. We were used to doing what we did every week so initially just did it without thinking if it would translate. Of course often it didn’t and sometimes we would tone it down a bit or at least modify it slightly as to me there is no point emptying clubs.

You ended Optimo Espacio on a significant high note and besides that and your growing DJ commitments, what was the reason behind shutting the residency down at that exact time? (I believe you were still on tour when you made the announcement.)

It felt to me that we were at the absolute peak of the weekly night and the only way was down. It could almost certainly run weekly for a few more years but the idea of it slowly dwindling away was too depressing so it felt right to end on a massive high. Also, it was so all consuming and it was important to have time to do other projects, like having the labels etc. 

13 years is still a long time for a club night, especially at that time, when everybody was going from one thing to the next quite quickly. How did you maintain that excitement around it for so long?

Twitch: By being in love with what we were doing and giving it 100% dedication, every week. It was such an incredible experience every single week that that was enough motivation to put 100% into the next week. I devote huge amounts of my time to sourcing music for my DJ sets, music that is mostly unique to me, not just playing promos I get sent to my email inbox. What is the point of that? I might as well be a jukebox as everyone else just does that too. Working hard to find music is something I think is hugely important and that having a unique voice is the single most important thing about being a DJ. I think most DJs are pretty lazy about this but I am lazy compared to how I was when we were doing the club weekly. I would dedicate insane amounts of time to making sure it was always fresh, always exciting, never boring. 

Were there ever times when it went through slumps, and how did you usually overcome those kinds of obstacles?

Twitch: No, never. After 18 months of there being 100 people there it totally took off and for the next 12 years was always packed. I don’t ever remember worrying about the numbers attending.

Going from residents to touring DJs and then also establishing a few labels around the concept, the Optimo name lived on, but was it a case of directing the ideas and philosophy of the club night into these different avenues? 

Wilkes: Something I’ve realised – we work really hard to make very aspect of what we do as good as it possibly can be. We tour really hard, Keith’s commitment to the label is ferocious, if we do are own parties we put the same energy into this as we always have, the same applies obviously for our DJ sets. All this is done well because we really enjoy it. As I said before, it’s not a rigid strategy but we do possess this shared energy and a strong work ethic which feeds into everything we do. 

I believe your most recent endeavour is a new sub label called Weaponise Your Sound. Where does this fit into the Optimo spectrum?

Twitch: It is a sub- label run by my friend and ally Kristina McCormack who does the Diet Clinic show on NTS which showcases women DJs and artists. I just facilitate the releases – the A&R is 100% down to her. It fits into the Optimo spectrum as I trust her taste and vision and have known her a very, very long time.

The Optimo label is still putting out quite a diverse range of music, and the most recent addition is Bergsonist, whose music plays between elements of electronica and traditional eastern influences. What usually draws you to the records that make into the label?

 Twitch: So much music comes my way. I can only explore a fraction of it, but am blessed so much of its is unique and great. Bergsonist reached out to me and I was instantly smitten by her music. She is madly talented. I am drawn to artists that sound like themselves, have an outlook and attitude I can relate to and make music that blows my mind. 

I know it’s mainly Keith that runs the label, but is there any relationship to the label, and the sound of your DJ sets?

Twitch: Yes, the labels are my thing and that causes some confusion. I have some new labels launching, the first of which is called Cease & Desist and is a label for compilations. . I wouldn’t release anything I wouldn’t play in a DJ set so there is a relationship for sure.

As DJs, you continue to bring that diversity to your sets, and even if there is at times a theme tying your sets together, you seem to be able to extend it to the absolute limits. It’s always dynamic and exciting, especially in an era dominated by very niche DJs. What do you think it is about your approach to music that still sets you apart from the rest?

Wilkes: I guess everyone is wired differently and perhaps some dj’s feel that they want to stick to what they know they are good at or what has always worked for them or what they see as their area of expertise – that’s fine. I admire a lot of dj’s who have this high level of detail to what they do – or as you say, it’s a kind of niche. If it is our thoughts on music in a broad sense, the notion that music in many different forms possesses power, can move people, can bring them together, can inspire radical thought, can convey feelings – it you think those things are real, like I do then maybe it’s a factor in our approach to the role of dj-ing and the music we choose to play, yes.

Do you ever find you have to adapt to a crowd, and how do you usually try and find a compromise then?

Wilkes: Yes we adapt. We feel the space, feel the sound, look at the energy spots in the crowd and work from that. 

There’s a lot of similarities between Oslo and Glasgow’s club scene, and you guys have played here before. How might that knowledge affect what you prepare for the night ahead on this occasion?

Wilkes: You feel that little bit more comfortable for sure if it’s not the first time in a room. One thing that stayed with me about Jaeger was the exquisite sound. When the system is that good then you are at a real advantage when it comes to playing more challenging sounds…with power and detail in the sound you can incorporate music that is just lost on a poor system. It’s very disappointing when you literally have to exclude certain records from the set because a system isn’t capable of conveying their sound the way it is meant to be – so thankfully we don’t have to do this at a club like Jaeger! 

 

Just doing my thing with Danny Daze

Converging on the sounds of Miami Bass, Electro, and Detroit Techno, Danny Daze is a DJ, producer and label head that has forged a singular sound in the booth and the studio for over a decade. 

Born Daniel Gomez, and raised in the vibrant musical landscape of Miami, everything from Salsa/Merengue, Hip Hop and Miami Bass encouraged an audacious youth to a life in music. Break dancing lured a young Danny over to the turntables, establishing a strong tether to contemporary music styles like Electro, where he would forge a career as a DJ. 

Inspired by a local scene of characters like the flamboyant Otto Von Schirach, DJing eventually led to production where Danny almost immediately carved out a career with his debut single, “Your Everything.” 

The Electro leaning track with its mammoth bass-line was strangely co-opted into the all-consuming Deep House trend of the last decade and sought to pigeonhole the DJ and artist into its ranks, but with his signature sets that ran the gamut from Detroit to Miami, critics couldn’t accurately consolidate his sound, which usually erred on the darker edges of body music. 

That criticism merely strengthened Danny’s resolve as he forged ahead in his enduring philosophy of “doing my thing” and after some releases on Jimmy Edgar’s Ultramajic, Ellum Audio and Kompakt Extra, the rest of the world eventually tuned in on to the Danny Daze wavelength. 

While he was establishing his singular sound as an artist, he was also breaking down boundaries from the booth. Informed by the same eclecticism from his youth where Bjørk could make an appearance in a Hip-Hop and R&B set, Danny’s DJ sets propelled his career even further. His bass-heavy selections, which played on the same corporeal intuitions he had cultivated as a break dancer, had endeared him to an international scene where he has staked an individual claim as a DJ today. 

Sets like his now famous Dekmantel Boiler Room mix, continues to set him apart from the trend-informed contemporaries, with a sincere focus on treading a unique path between elements of Electro, Miami Bass and Techno, leaning towards the darker hues of those musical universes.

In recent years, he’s channeled this unique approach to his music and sets in the equally distinctive, Omnidisc record label with releases from a close knit community of like-minded artists like RHR and Anthony Rother and the rare contribution from Danny Daze.

Between the label, the DJ sets and his music, Danny Daze has foregone the paradigm of  Dj-based music for the sake of the individual and after almost a decade of an internationally renowned artist and even longer as a DJ, it is this what remains at the core of his appeal. It’s Danny Daze doing his thing, and that’s what we found too, when we sent out some questions to Danny ahead of his set at Jaeger next weekend for Frædag

Miami has got such a vibrant musical legacy. What role did that play in your formative years as your ears were opening up to music?

Being able to listen to Salsa/Merengue, Hip Hop and Miami Bass all in a matter of 20 minutes from each other on radio was something I wasn’t aware would push my sound to where it is now. It’s the main reason my taste in music is quite wide. 

As you were coming into your own and aspiring to music was there any kind of scene that you would’ve gravitated towards?

I was always a dancer. When I was 5 years old I was already throwing myself on the floor thinking I was break dancing so naturally I gravitated to that scene. The break dancing scene was commanded by electro and funk so essentially it’s what led me to listening and playing electro. 

How did break dancing lead into DJing?

It happened rather easy. I was obsessed with all forms of break dancing music. From Jimmy Castor to Newcleus. A lot of my friends would come to my house to practice and I had a selection of CDs we would dance. It just naturally progressed to my mother buying me turntables and me DJing around for free at peoples houses. 

I’ve read (although not confirmed) that you were playing Hip Hop and R&B at first. What  influenced you to move over to those Miami Bass, Electro and eventually Techno sounds that you are associated with today?

Nah it’s the other way around actually. I started off in ‘99 playing Electro. I played old school Electro then in ‘00 I heard Nu-skool Electro for the first time. I then got into playing hip hop around ‘03/‘04 because I saw there was money to be made and I enjoyed the turntablism aspect of it. I started a remix/mashup project called DiscoTech which took off really quick in the US. I wasn’t expecting it to take off at all to be honest. I just wanted to earn a living doing something I loved and it ended up taking my partners Joe, Matt and I all over the world. Very unexpected. 

And was it always the darker elements of these genres that attracted you to these sounds?

Always. I remember when I first got into DJing. I got into Florida Breaks which is quite happy. I knew I liked it, but I knew I wanted something darker. Then I heard the Mandroid – B-boy No Comply album and my entire perception of broken beats changed. Then immediately after, Anthony Rother – Dont Stop The Beat absolutely flipped my head upside down and I knew there was no turning back. 

You’ve on more than one occasion mentioned one of my favourite and one of the most underrated electronic music artists in my opinion, Otto Von Schirach as an influence in the past. What role did he play in your development as an artist?

Otto was one of the first live acts I saw in Miami in the very early 2000’s. Along with Dino Felipe and Soul Oddity/Phoenecia. What attracted me to Otto was the fact he just did his thing and till this day he remains focused on his sound. Not only is he the nicest human on earth, the dude just does his thing and that’s it. I was very attracted to that attitude as a youngster because I was surrounded by people in school who constantly looked for some sort of approval or confirmation. I would say that the entire IDM/Electro scene in Miami really changed me as a young teenager. A lot of my friends noticed that change in me early in my high school years.  

I know like Otto, you like those alternative elements to dance and electronic music. How do you factor those elements into your DJ sets today?

Those elements just come in. Not sure how to answer that as it’s the only way I’ve known how to DJ and it’s what I thought DJing was about. Having your own style so you’re not just another jukebox. Even in the Hip Hop days, I experimented. I’d play Bjork right smack in the middle of a 1000 person club who all wanted Biggie. 

You got pigeonholed as a DJ, somewhat unfairly, in that Deep House trend after “Your Everything.” What effect did it have on what you would do next and how did you eventually sidestep it as a DJ?

Yea, that was quite fun to watch and be part of to be honest. That “Your Everything” track to me is not even remotely close to what I used to call Deep House. I always considered Deep House artist like Rick Wade and Mike Huckaby. When I finished that tune, I thought I had made some sort of Miami Bass/Electro-clash/Disco fusion thing. I wasn’t aware it would take me in the direction it took me but I’m glad it did. I got to learn a lot about the industry and how it works within 18 months of that record coming out. I’m honestly not sure how I was able to sidestep it and have people now understand what I’m about, but I think just doing my thing and not worrying too much about what people think really helped. Also, as time went by I think people just noticed my mixes, Dj sets and production just didn’t fit the deep house thing so slowly started peaking into what I do. 

Did you feel you had to adapt the way you produced your music as a result?

At first yes. I thought “oh well, I guess this is where my career is taking me now, might as well try to enjoy it”. It was way better than the Hip Hop/Mainstream world I was part of 6 months prior. I wasn’t aware my record collection from when I started DJing would actually be something I could continue playing over in Europe. As soon as I started touring Europe I noticed I’d be playing clubs where artists like The Advent and Cari Lekebusch were playing the second room. It surprised me and I immediately knew I needed to stick to my guns and not conform but by that time, the pigeonhole had already been cemented and I really needed to push hard so people knew exactly where I came from. It was quite a wild ride.

It was the first Ultramajic release that I always thought defined your sound as producer from that point on. That’s Detroit, Electro and Miami Bass all rolled into one. What was the crucial evolution that established your sound as an artist for you?  

It’s funny cuz what’s established my sound now is me simply rolling back the clock to what I started doing as a bedroom DJ. I was buds with Jimmy Edgar and he had heard some tunes I was working on and asked if I wanted to drop it on a label he was starting. I think that first release on Ultramajic surprised some people because everything about it was a bit different than expected. Not saying it was good or anything, but it was definitely different than expected for many people. Lol. 

Is there a conscious idea behind your music before you create it?

It depends. Sometimes I just wanna bang something out that was an idea floating around in my head, sometimes I’ll go into the studio wanting to experiment with one piece of gear causing something to happen that wasn’t expected. It’s finding that balance between both and knowing how to utilize that time. 

How does your own music relate to the sound of Omnidisc?

Omnidisc is an extension of my musical taste. Stuff I would play in a club, stuff I would listen to at home. It’s helped me shape the sound I want people to expect whenever they hear me play. 

What do you look for in music to make it on to the label and how do you usually come across this music or these artists?

I always look for experimentation in the recording process and want the tracks to tell a story. I get many demos where they simply sound like jam sessions and although these tracks may work in a club, I want people to walk out of a venue and specifically remember a song they heard. All of the artists I’ve released … I either know them personally or their demos have come to me via another artist on the label. At times I’ve received some demos that worked for the label and I signed them, but I really enjoy having a circle of artists who all feel like family with each other. I believe that’s extremely important for the growth of the label both sonically and maintaining its ethos. 

There’s quite some variety in there in terms of the pool of artists. Is there a concerted effort in them to make music specifically for the label, or is it just of you finding music to fit the label, regardless of the artist?

Nah, I like having an artist come back to the label. Artists like Shokh, Anthony Rother, Dean Grenier, Drvg Cvltvre are artists who’ve released multiple times. I’ve never told anyone to make music to “fit the label”. The only criteria I’ve ever had for something to fit the label is the music needs to tell a story. The sound of a label shifts of course, but the main thing for me is for the artist to feel free to experiment and not worry if it will top the charts or not. 

And is there ever a case of adapting the sound of a record to fit the label?

No. I just won’t release the record if too much has to be done to it. It’s happened often where I’ve gotten incredible records that I would play out, but I just don’t release it because there are plenty of other labels that would fit much better with it. It just doesn’t fit the label. 

Your own output remains quite reserved. Is it a case of being your own worst critic?

I’ve always produced music but I like to keep things at a minimum and not over saturate. One, maybe two EPs a year is more than enough for me. This year for example I have an EP coming up on Omnidisc, then releasing some stuff on Schematic Records which includes an album towards the end of the year. 

So what makes a Danny Daze track or record worthy of release?

I’ve got no idea lol …… it mostly has to do with whether or not it feels new to me. It doesn’t have to be anything groundbreaking, but I’ve always needed to feel like it’s something a bit different than what’s popular at the moment. 

Is there a lot of confluence between the music you make, the label, and your DJ sets?

It’s pure confluence that’s for sure. Everything merges and everything shifts at the same time. 

You’ve spent a lot of time between the US and Europe, DJing. How do you feel you have to adapt your sets accordingly and what effect has it had on your DJing in general, playing for a variety of audiences?

Part of being a DJ for me is being able to adapt and embrace without fully removing yourself from your original message. We’re living in a time now where “DJ” doesn’t mean much, but I’ve always respected those who just stick to their guns. Thus why I feel it’s important to have a wide spectrum of influence so you can adapt to what’s needed but maintain the core message of what you want to put out. 

Are there elements in the kind of music you play that is universal between these two regions?

Electronic music is pretty damn universal to be honest. Things have become much more commercial now that the internet is the main source for all things music, but good drums and proper bass lines will always do the trick. No matter where you play. 

This will be your first time at Jaeger. Do you have a way of testing the waters in determining which way your set will go on the night?

I usually go into the venue about an hour before I play and check out the crowd. Depending on set length, I take some left and right turns seeing how weird we can get with the crowd. The weirder the better. 

How do you expect your set to go on this occasion and are there some tracks you’re particularly looking forward to playing?

Absolutely no idea how my set will go buy I hope people don’t start throwing tomatoes at me. Haha. I’ve actually just gotten back the masters to my next Omnidisc EP which features RHR so I’m really looking forward to trying them out at Jaeger. 

http://omnidisc.co

http://instgram.com/dannydaze

http://instagram.com/omnidisc

The spirit of community with Dugnad Rec

Dugnad is a Norwegian term for voluntary work done together with other people.

Dugnad Rec. is a record label, an artist collective and event series with its origins in the communal spirit of Norwegian culture. Founded by Kjetil Jerve and Erland Albertsen and born within the vociferous cauldron of Norway’s improvised Jazz scene, Dugnad Rec began with a single aim in mind. After recording an album together, Kjetil and Erland had struggled to find an outlet for their work, and instead forged ahead to do it themselves. Dugnåd Rec was born. It was a preliminary introduction however and after releasing a second record it almost immediately went into hibernation. 

It would remain dormant, waiting for some coincidental prospect to emerge, but with the two core members not releasing anything, it would take someone working on the fringes of their community to give it the injection it needed. Enter Bendik Baksaas. The Norwegian artist had been sitting on a wealth of material he had created in a fusion of music that channeled the improvised nature of Jazz into the electronic realm and the dance floor, but had yet to find a suitable outlet. Sensing an opportunity and recognising Baksaas’ talents, Kjetil proffered his services and said “release it on Dugnad.”

*Dugnad Rec play Jaeger this Wednesday

“The giant awoke again,” says Gabriel Varskog, sipping on a tepid black coffee across the table from me. He looks like he just woke (and he did), his big mop of curly hair bulging at the sides framing his pinhole eyes and warm smile. As an artist, he performs, DJs and composes by his middle name, Patås  and he’s one of the central figures in the Dugnåd collective which today constitutes Kjetil Jerve, Erland Albertsen, Fredrik Høyer, Bendik Baksaas, Joar Renolen, Kim Dürbeck, Gabriel and many more that makeup the fringes of their community.

“At the core we’re 7 people,” explains Gabriel, “but the outer core is around 30 people.” There are no designated roles within the collective and the label as “everybody contributes what they can to a common goal,“ and “nobody expects compensation.” It’s an ever expanding community, cooperating with the larger improv and club music community in Oslo. The core constituents take all responsibility for the daily operations between the label and the periphery of the collective, with outsiders often lending a hand on single aspects. Over the course of their existence Gabriel says that they have “grown into designated roles” with Kjetil as the ”driving force and glue,” balancing a life with newborn triplets and Dugnad Rec. 

Kjetil and the other instrumental figures of the Dugnad Rec. society, have entrusted Gabriel to represent them for the interview and he’s eager to relay the central ideologies. An artist with roots in Norway’s Jazz scene, currently making club music he’s contributed the latest record to the Dugnad Rec. catalogue, with four stark atmospheric tracks that float between ambient and Techno across the release. From the subtle plucked strings of ”Siste Dag” to the breathy beat sequences of “Techslo,” two hemispheres in Oslo’s music community between Jazz and Techno converge for a record that connects a thin redline between these two distinct worlds.

Bendik and Kjetil had “been ripping my songs apart for a year” before it was released says Gabriel, wincing through the thought. Although the criticism might seem harsh to the outside viewer, it’s this kind of honesty that has strengthened Dugnad’s resolve in determining the sonic identity of the collective. There’s an “underlying trust in the communication” between them which is “very direct” but efficient as each artist involved benefits from the shared experience of the collective. 

The “evolution in our sound has just skyrocketed” during this second wave of Dugnad Rec. according to Gabriel, “because the feedback loop is so short” between them. “You kind of get the experience of all the people around you as well as your own. This is how we as human beings can grow to our fullest potential, in these small groups of like minded individuals.” As the latest addition to Dugnad, Kim Dürbeck has also had to endure this trial by fire, relinquishing his own artistic identity for the greater good in one of the future releases for the label. “Acceptance is key,” stresses Gabriel as he reflects on an email he had sent that very morning to Kim, unpicking the latest version of some new music from his label co-hort. 

“We don’t try to change the sound,” explains Gabriel, “but we try to perfect that sound so it’s enhanced to its fullest potential.” It means whittling away at the excessive inconsequential elements in a piece of music and cutting everything down that “does not contribute to the main idea.“ In their efforts Dugnad Rec. have cultivated a sound that thrives in a stark minimalism, devoid of some external objective pursuit beyond the act of making music.  

Improvisation is key in all their endeavours and activities and it’s improvisation that constitutes the fundamental essence of the label, regardless of whether their artists are working within the Techno- or Jazz’s parameters. “Rec doesn’t stand for records,” says Gabriel by way of explaining, “it stands for the recording button.” The central idea comes down to recording everything and conditioning the artist to work beyond the recorded format. “If you’re not used to the record button being on,” explains Gabriel pointing to the device currently recording our conversation, “your behaviour changes.” Dugnad Rec. is about “getting used to this feeling” of being recorded to a point where you can completely ignore it and live in the moment of making music.

While this kind of thinking has permeated through Jazz for a long time, it’s something that has only crept up in Techno occasionally. The objective is to set it apart from the popularised form of the music, while conveying the fundamental ideology of the music. It’s at its heart an improvised music with a foot in the technology (music and otherwise) of the future. “I really feel Techno is the Jazz of club music,” proposes Gabriel. “That’s where the experimental stuff is happening and where the boundaries are being pushed.” 

Dugnad Rec. is based on the belief that the person who is willing to explore improvised Jazz is the same kind of person that would appreciate Techno. This is not just some glassy-eyed sentiment on Dugnad Rec’s behalf either, they are actually putting it into practise. They regularly host events around Norway as Dugnad Rec. and their events at Hærverk have become the most concrete realisation of this confluence between these two distinct worlds.

Hærverk’s location between these worlds; a live Jazz venue in the week and a bristling Techno club on the weekend, have assisted in Dugnad Rec. strengthening the connection between these two musical worlds. The “goal is to expose these two scenes that are very apparent in Oslo, and underground” to the other according to Gabriel. Going from live bands to DJ sets and improvised electronic performances, the night “jumps from one to the other,” with artists having “to make a transition” between their opposing music styles. They’ll “have to improvise with each other and this creates a lot of very special moments,” according to Gabriel. 

With many of these new electronic artists coming from a Jazz background like Gabriel they’ve merely transferred their skills to this new domain. “When we switched over to playing machines,” he says “it is only natural for us to continue improvising” and one day they hope to eventually incorporate both these aspects in a truly new fusion of music. “We’re definitely getting there.” 

Besides Gabriel’s own ruminations on his last record, the closest they’ve gotten is Bendik Baksaas and Fredrik Høyer’s collaboration on “Til Alt Ute.” While the record failed to garner much by the way of critical success according to Gabriel it was a breakthrough record for the label, in every other respect, specifically the awareness that it cultivated for people that “really love records.”  “I guess it didn’t really speak to any trend that was apparent,” considers Gabriel about the lack of press on the record, but the fact that they packed out Blå for the official release, speaks for itself.

If you take away Høyer’s vocal, “Til Alt Ute” is little more than a Tech-House record, but it’s in the amalgamation that the charm of that record lies. It’s not merely an extemporised  conversation between man and machine, but also between two very different factions of the artistic community in Oslo. While the record certainly had an impact on the label’s prominence, Gabriel believes “Dugnad’s breakthrough has been a slow thing” with small elements contributing to the larger picture. With “everybody being so active as they are and always pointing back to the community,” it’s raised their profile and “made (the collective) grow in both the jazz world and the club world. “

Oslo has facilitated this growth with its “long tradition in free improv” and “vibrant club scene,” but ultimately it’s up to those very defined parameters that makeup the collective’s ideologies.  “Limitation is liberation” says Gabriel echoing Bendik Baksaas in an interview from last year with this blog, and between, the convergence of musical styles, the freedom of expression in improvisation, the shared experience and the permissive attitudes, Dugnad Rec are making a serious mark on Norway’s music scene. 

The Norwegian word “dugnadsånd” is translatable to the spirit of will to work together for a better community. 

Jeff Mills – An unwavering original

“Now electronic music is primarily made by a certain type of people,” Jeff Mills told French Radio station 24 in a candid interview last year; “typically middle class that probably have a pretty comfortable lifestyle.” 

It is this suburban bourgeoisie that has facilitated Techno’s incremental rise to popularity over the course of the last decade with Berlin playing host to a new generation of artists and enthusiasts, dressed in black playing and listening to a kitsch assemblage of Techno non-sequiturs, largely designed to exploit the popularity of the genre today. 

It’s the result of a culture of distillation, stretching back to the gestation of the genre and particularly advancing over the course of the last decade to where it’s completely eaten away the original eccentricities of the genre. Techno today constitutes little more than a percussive loop and a brooding atmosphere, gathering on the resonant frequencies of the percussion.

Self-proclaimed “underground” DJs and producers have watered down the music to an indistinguishable trope as the Muzak of the dance floor in 2020, leaving the door wide open for hackneyed appropriations. Today, Techno thrives in a kind of honorary superficiality as it’s inducted into popular culture where the suburban masses are commodifying it on a perfunctory level.

In this era, two distinct strains of the genre emerge, with the sub-cultural origins of the genre retreating back into the shadows, back underground, where  Jeff Mills still represents the genre and its original principles.

 

The invention

Techno has begged, stolen and borrowed to get to where it is today. It follows several different  narrative threads, open to all kinds of revisionist plotlines, and you can unpick it at any point, it will completely dissolve in your own biased social perspective every time. Positioning the gestation of Techno at the end of the 1980’s in Detroit with Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson and Derrick May, collectively known as the Belleville 3, is the most accepted origins of this story, but it comes with its own issues. Significant figures like the enigmatic Eddie Fowlkes are all but written out of this narrative; Germany’s initial involvement is erased; and most problematic is that it doesn’t figure Jeff Mills into the first wave of Detroit Techno artists exactly.

Even in Frank Broughton and Bill Brewster’s thorough compendium of DJ culture “Last night a DJ saved my life,” they couldn’t quite place the assent of the DJ and producer within the rhetoric of the Belleville 3, so he just appears like an apparition on the radio, independent of what was happening in Bellville. While it’s appropriate for the lore of the enigma, Jeff Mills has always cultivated, it unduly writes off his role in the extensive origins of Techno. 

Frank Broughton would later set the record straight in the collected interviews for the “Record Players: DJ Revolutionaries.” While Atkins, Saunderson and May were doing their thing in the suburbs (let’s not forget) Mills was pursuing a similar strain of music on his own in the city of Detroit. 

Growing up in the urban sprawl of the city where heavy industrial machines and brawny V8 engines would paint the sonic milieu of the city by day, at night, a very young Mills would be glued to the radio.“It was a source of music that everyone depended on: on your transistor radio, in your car, on your home stereo,” recalls Mills in an interview with the Fabric blog. “What radio is like,” he continues is “what a trip to the moon is supposed to be like, what the lunar surface is supposed to be like.” It was a distant world, mesmerising and alluring to an inquisitive mind like Mills’. 

The only real common thread between Mills and his contemporaries in Belleville at this point was a radio DJ called Electrifying Mojo. The “little man with a big voice” (Derrick May once claimed) had a profound impact on the gestation of Techno, bringing the electronic sounds of the European continent converging around groups like Kraftwerk to the US airwaves in the late 1970s. 

As well as electrifying Mojo, Mills would tune into Chicago’s Hot Mix 5 and make regular trips across Lake Michigan to his midwestern neighbour city to buy records when he was still a teenager. He naturally gravitated to DJing from the radio, with the likes Grandmaster Flash and Jazzy Jeff inspiring an early interest, which he quickly turned into a commanding talent.

He started Djing at high school parties, before falling in with his brother’s DJ crew. From there he rose swiftly through their ranks and by 1980 he had his own residencies around town, playing all night long in clubs that he was barely old enough to patronise. The crowd was young and eager, but Mills always remained at the cutting edge of new music, and by the time Juan Atkins’ first musical project Cybotron arrived, he was playing it alongside new music from the B-52s and Pink Poodles too.

In 1982 he was plucked from relative obscurity to the radio when an impromptu recording session captured his unique skill as a DJ, and the Wizard was born, an anonymous radio personality that would command the local airwaves with an exciting blend of new electronic music.  

Techno as a genre had yet to be invented by 1981, but in Cybotron’s music Atkins and Richard Davis had laid the foundation for the genre to emerge out of Detroit. Their music wasn’t exactly groundbreaking at first, amounting to little more than a pastiche of Kraftwerk’s sound at that time, but there was something unique bristling through on a track like “Cosmic Raindance,” where you can hear the first strains of what would become a repetitive electronic dance music.

Whereas Kraftwerk were traditionally trained musicians, wrestling with high-brow concepts in their music, artists like Cybotron were musical dilettantes playing with machines like toys trying to make electronic pop records. On “Cosmic Raindance” the classic music structures of Kratwerk disappear as improvised keyboards hover around a tonic with an unwavering 808 groove and bitonal bass line staying the course as the rhythm section. That kind of extemporised  “jam” is more Motown than avant garde German post-rock, encouraging that association with the soul of Detroit that has become something of a key distinction to set artists like Cybotron apart from its European counterparts. 

But who invented Techno? “When did you first hear the word Techno,” asked Broughton in DJ Revolutionaries. “Probably in ‘Musique Non Stop,’ by Karftwerk,” replied Mills. That record from 1986 actually appears a bit late in the etymology of the word, or more accurately, the abbreviation of the word Technology. In 1984 there was already a “Technoclub” in Frankfurt, coined by Talla2XLC, who would be playing musical styles like new beat, industrial and synthwave at Dorian Gray under the all-encompassing banner for the first time. That very same year Cybotron would release a record called “Techno City” too, although the synth-pop sound of that record is a far cry from the more industrialised sounds they were listening to at Talla’s parties, where the likes of Nitzer Ebb were staking their claim.

While it was Virgin records that first attributed the word Techno to a genre of music in 1988 with their compilation, “Techno, the new Dance music from Detroit!,” it was a word in common parlance, used to describe anything electronic or futuristic at that time.

Techno as a music existed way before anybody started calling it that, and it was Europe informing Detroit, before Detroit evolved it into the next phase. And like Kraftwerk’s undeniable influence over Cybotron, acts like Nitzer Ebb would inform Jeff Mills’ first steps into production. 

Radio and specifically Electrifying Mojo, was exposing a young Jeff Mills to all these sounds, which he would take into his own radio show. Because of Detroit’s industrial history, its people “adopted a more progressive way of thinking” according to Mills in DJ Revolutionaries. That kind of thinking was handed down through the generations and influenced a very broad intellectual horizon in his opinion. Mills’ own family came from the north and the south to work at automobile factories in Detroit and “like many other black people, they discovered a whole new world, that was futuristic,” which nurtured an inquisitive nature in their progeny that always looked  “beyond the boundaries of Detroit” according to Mills. 

While his peers from Belleville were looking to Kraftwerk, Mills was looking to groups like Nitzer Ebb and Front 242 as well as Kraftwerk, and while playing on the radio between 1982 and 1989 he was developing his own sound as an artist and producer in what would become the prototype for all Techno to follow.

It started with the Wizard, programming simple beats on machines as a way to stand out from other radio stations. He would segue records from three decks into the machines and back again, interspliced with sonic effects played back from tape, creating a bold and dynamic sonic collage that has remained the ultimate allure of his work as a DJ to this day. 

Developing  those arcane sequences from his drum machines and synths into original material, Jeff Mills founded a group called Final Cut with Anthony Srock, which took its cues from the industrial sounds happening in Europe and Detroit simultaneously by that time, influenced by the likes of Nitzer Ebb, but negating vocalists and pop arrangements for a pure machine music. Final Cut’s first record, the “Bass has Landed” is the archetype for most Techno today, even though it started out life as a House a track.

While many consider “Strings of Life” by Derrick May (Rhythim is Rhythim) as the precursor to Techno, Final Cut’s minimalist approach, where the track constitutes little more than a drum machine, will probably be more recognisable to dance floors today. May’s opaque arrangement between piano and synthesised strings, playing in combatant keys sounds puerile against what would constitute Techno, whereas Final Cut’s debut could stake its claim amongst any new record in a 2020 DJ set in the right hands. 

Mills only recorded two records with Final Cut, leaving the group when they started pursuing the industrial aesthetic in accordance to European trends. By the time Mills retired the heretofore anonymous Wizard alias, Techno in Detroit had emerged as its own independent sound, developing on its own as the genre stepped into its next phase with a second wave of artists and producers, in part spearheaded by Mills. 

 

The Emancipation 

While the debate rages on over the origins of Techno, there is absolutely no denying that by 1990 it was the domain of Detroit and a faction of DJs and producers including Jeff Mills, who weren’t merely creating a new form of music, but were consolidating an entire ideology around this abstract electronic music.

Detroit in the 1980’s was a hopeless landscape for a bunch black kids immersed in science fiction and drum machines. Kevin Saunderson once said that there were only two options for black kids growing up in Detroit and that was the army or prison. While Saunderson chose the army, the ones that remained avoided jail by making music. With no help from the American government, who had continued (and continues) to enslave its black population through the prison complex, people like Mills, turned to music to emancipate themselves from the system.

He found a kindred spirit in Mike Banks and together they formed the Techno collective, Underground Resistance. “Planets and stars and futurism and time travel — these types of visions aren’t supposed to come from black guys from Detroit,” Jeff Mills has often said in interviews, but it’s exactly these things that brought he and Banks together and enlisted Robert Hood as the original trinity that inducted the UR collective.

UR was more than just label releasing beat music. It was a way of life for all the artists involved and a platform to get out from under the commercial machine that constituted the dominantly white male record industry and take the power into their own hands. Feigning individual artistic identities for the sake of the collective, there was clearly a political agenda at the heart of their pursuits, but what that was, and remains completely open to interpretation.

That’s the appeal of Techno for many. This abstract form of music is all but completely devoid of any literal meaning. A vocal snippet, ripped out of context or an obscure track title relays little information or direction from the artist, so as a listener you always get what you put into the music. And UR exploited that, turning all the focus on the music, and making their impact more profound. Many labels and artists have since blatantly imitated this model, with mixed results, but UR remains unique in the initial diligence of their pursuit and what they established for all those institutions that followed in their wake.

Although Jeff Mills’ tenure at UR was short lived (only two years), that sense of agency that UR established for artists of their ilk, remained at the core of what he’s pursued as an artist, DJ and label owner ever since. “My hope is that the listener gives up on the idea of trying to recognise anything or relate it to something they know,” he told Fabric in a recent interview. There is a kind of freedom that Mills instills in the listener through his music, but when he is talking “about being free, it is not just music,” he explained in the France 24 interview “but in your thinking.” 

The idea of cognitive freedom is something that has suffused black American music since time immemorial. Cultural appropriation is nothing new, and even as early as Jazz music’s origins, a musical elite (largely white males) have been trying to co-opt any black musical tradition into the larger universal western narrative. Since the days of Will Marion Cook and just after the civil war, there had always been vocal dissent in black American musicians about their music being co-opted into the classical western canon. Merely exploited for their exotic charm, this narrative would deny black American artists their own culture where they controlled the parameters of the music and its legacy.

With figures like Cook and Duke Ellington publicly expressing their disdain and on the merits of their artistry, Jazz and Blues had managed to disentangle itself almost completely from the western canon, but Techno would not be so lucky. 

In an interview with Carl Craig last year, the producer and DJ mentioned that Derrick May stopped making music in the 1990’s, because he had become agitated by people in Europe frequently and blatantly copying his style. Even while the version of Techno, made popular in Europe through the more industrial inclinations, had started to inform its own strains of music including EBM and in some way Trance, it seems that what was happening in Detroit was also informing European trends, where new artists were imitating what was happening stateside, quite often resulting in bland, watered down versions of the same music. 

In an effort to buck these trends, Mills and his co-conspirators sought new realms in Techno, often encouraged by some conceptual thought and/or musical experiment. While the rest of the world was packing in warehouses with big sound systems playing House music to people in their thousands enraptured in ecstasy, Jeff Mills was making a deep, conceptual record with Robert Hood as X-103. “The world was raving, why would we make an album about Atlantis” he mused in a Wire interview and while it might not have made sense at the time from a commercial perspective, it certainly exposed a depth that few ventured beyond in Techno.

Although the LP was released on Tresor in 1993, the “Thera” EP that preceded it came via Mills’ newly established Axis records label. Unlike his debut record, “Waveforms Transmissions” which played to the militant intensity of the German dance floor, “Atlantis” and especially “Thera” played to Mills’ more experimental inclinations. The lead single is essentially an ambient piece, with a rich harmonic texture developing around a singular drone, and dissipating in staccato releases of atmosphere.

While in “Waveform Transmissions” you can clearly hear those first faint echoes of what would eventually become the sound of Techno in Europe today, “Atlantis” seems to expound more on the soulful traditions that had informed Detroit in the sixties and onwards. Lush, synthetic strings, defined melodic movements and dynamic beat constructions, distinguished it from its eastern successors, while the theme behind the music asserted Techno beyond the mere corporeal into the cognitive, a philosophy that Jeff Mills continues to pursue today in all his endeavours. 

Later Drexciya would take this idea even further with the nautical, afrofuturist theme, based on a black atlantis populated by the children of slaves. Using what they learned from Underground Resistance (Drexciya’s James Stinson started out in UR) they too emancipated their work from the increasingly indoctrinated version of Techno that was laying claim to dance floors around the world. This was tactical in distinguishing the Detroit faction of Techno from the increasingly popular form of the genre, which was infiltrating mass culture steadily, throughout the 1990’s. It’s in this spirit that Mike Banks still refers to the genre as High-Tech Jazz, to liberate any associations with this other vapid interpretation of the term Techno, which has largely commodified the term. 

 

The eternal  innovator 

“There were times earlier in my career when partying, entertaining the ladies and making a lot of money were my top three goals!” Jeff Mills told the Monument in an interview last year. “But like anyone that cares about something, in time one’s craft and art form require more attention and focus. For me, this difference happened around 1995.” 

The mid nineties had been definitive time for Techno too. Robert Hood had released Minimal Nation on Mills’ Axis records, creating a new branch of Techno in its wake (which would again be adopted and distilled down to a perfunctory music in the mid 2000’s). Jeff Mills released the hugely influential “Bells” and alongside artists like Carl Craig and Kenny Larkin, he also constituted the second wave of artists, producers and DJs from Detroit, strengthening the resolve of their predecessors’ music as the rightful pretenders to the throne. Even while Jeff Mills was there from the onset, the most significant contribution came during this era, as he established the genre beyond the confines of a sweaty dance floor. 

Techno as art had hardly been a notion before Jeff Mills posited it to the world as such. He realised early on “the genre could contain more than just dancing” he said in an Electronic beats interview and that it could relay “a certain subject to certain people.” 

While “Atlantis” was an early effort, Purpose Maker was certainly about redefining the genre with a multimedia project incorporating film, performance and music. Essentially pre-dating Boiler Room by 20 years, the Purpose Maker video was a DJ set captured on film as performance for the first time. As well as introducing the world to Octave One, it played a significant part in established DJing as an artform too with Jeff Mills giving his audience and intimate look up the Wizard’s sleeve. 

Focussing, quite literally, on Mills’ technique, closeups on the decks revealed the artist manipulating three decks at the same time, lifting the shroud on his unique practises for the first time. While most Techno DJs at that time were manipulating two records in some seamless segue between tracks in one uninterrupted musical journey, Mills was expounding on it by essentially creating completely new compositions in an improvised manner. The idea of DJing as an art form is essentially born. 

Jeff Mills had been a DJ innovator from the very beginning on radio, and while even some of his Detroit peers still struggle with the practise he had mastered something unique in his abilities. In the age of CDJs (CD players emulating record players, made for DJs) it’s not uncommon to find DJs using up to five players simultaneously, but when all they had were vinyl and record players Jeff Mills (and Carl Cox of course) stood apart. When he eventually moved over to CDJs in the 2000’s he would start incorporating a drum machine, in that ceaseless sense of curiosity and experimentation that underlines all his work. 

“My interaction and application of always using a Roland TR-909 drum machine in a more hands on way” he explained in Monument, “is an example about how I’m trying to regain some of the human-ness back into my DJ sets.”

Even as a DJ, the idea of “Techno as loops for dance music” never quite sat well with Mills. His experience with that kind of narrow approach in Techno has been “very negative… For many many years“ he told Wired. “Not just with my peers but also in the press.” His views expanding the dimensions were “being totally ignored” for the longest time and even by time the millennial bell rang in and he signalled his intentions for the turn of the next decade by soundtracking Fritz Lang’s silent film Metropolis, his efforts still went purposefully unnoticed. It didn’t quite fit the devil-may-care hedonistic approach of the dance floor where superstar DJs were asking exorbitant fees to play mind-numbingly formulaic pieces for an increasingly disengaged audience. 

While Jeff Mills was trying to revolutionise the genre, it dug its heels in even further in the first wave of popularity that sought to codify the genre in recognisable tropes for these numbed hedonists. Many of Techno’s architects abandoned ship, seeking refuge in everything from Drum n Bass to Post-punk music, but even during this time, Jeff Mills remained an unwavering presence with a resolute philosophy in expanding the collective consciousness of the genre. He would release some stunning records like the conceptual album “Time Machine,” as his music moved further into the abstract realm, perhaps even too abstract for the new Techno elite that were only just cottoning on to his early work like “Waveform Transmissions.” 

During this time he made the “Exhibitionist,” a follow up to the Purpose Maker – after the advent of CDJs and incorporating a drum machine in his Dj sets – while unilaterally exploring the absolute limits of the music, extending his experiments into film too with concepts like “Three Ages.”

By the time people started flocking back to Techno through the thunderous sounds of Berlin at the turn of the first decade of this century, Jeff Mills was still there, he never left, and still constituted the determinable ideologies of the genre. With Techno’s profile rising however, Jeff Mills’ profile rose too naturally, and today with the recent re-issue of “The Bells” some nearly twenty five years on from its creation, he is possibly the most referenced artist out there today, but his hesitation at the popularity from the start of this piece is warranted even more today. Those certain types from the suburb, have effectively exploited the origins for some kind of gain (whether for money or profile), effectively white-washing the original principles of what Mills and his Detroit cohorts set out to create at the beginning. 

It’s why Jeff Mills is still such a significant figure in Techno at the age 56, because even at Techno’s heightened popularity, there are very few artists pursuing a unique voice in the genre like he still is. Everybody seems to be playing to the common denominator, making bridge and tunnel journeys into the city’s clubs for simple escapist pleasures.

As Techno’s popularity continues to grow, it’s reached a point where everything we experience as Techno is just some bland version of what Jeff Mills has done at some previous point in his career. Whether its referencing Waveform Transmissions, the Bells or utilising four decks in a DJ mix, everything in Techno today can be distilled down to its archetype, Jeff Mills. And yet, when it’s Jeff Mills pursuing these things, it still manages to set a tone apart from the mainstream. Jeff Mills remains the original. 

 

From Arla to Bromley – Profile on Overmono

Ed Russell was 8 years old when he started eavesdropping on his older brother, Tom mixing records in the room next door. At 18 Tom had gotten his first set of decks, and although Ed can’t really infer what kind of impression it made on him today, by the time he was 11 and set out on his own path with a set of decks, he was regularly “pinching” records from Tom’s room, according to an interview with the Quietus.  

Tom had started making music and DJing as Truss while Ed was still coming of age and honing his nascent skills between DJing and production. As Truss, the older brother played sets and released music that focussed on the darker shades of Techno, infused with elements lifted from UK dance music- and sound system culture. With Perc Trax as a vehicle for his music, he made a significant impression as part of a wave of artists pursuing Techno in the UK capital after Dubstep’s descent.

Records like “Kymin Lea” and his collaborations with Perc, had brought an abstract era of Techno to the dance floor, punctuated by militant drum machine arrangements and suffused with experimental sonic designs that went beyond the functional.

Artists like Truss and Perc facilitated an era in the UK’s clubbing community that ultimately provided a platform for a whole post-Dubstep generation to come through and develop unique strains of music. Infused with a heady mixture of UK rave culture, whilst drawing on influences from Berlin, Chicago and Detroit, this next phase was fertile environment for a new burgeoning eclecticism. It’s in this scene that younger brother Ed would make his debut as Tessela with the much hyped and still magnificent, “Hackney Parrot.” 

“Hackney Parrot” would be the first time that Ed and Tom would work together (although indirectly), with their joint venture and label, Poly Kicks expediting the release of the debut record. “I’ve never been one for subtlety really,” Ed told Resident Advisor at the time of Hackney Parrot’s release, and the record honours that sentiment with a screaming, chopped vocal undulating between the raucous, bass-heavy breakbeat arrangement. With later records on the likes of R&S,  Tessela established a unique sound that flirted with Techno, while retaining those expressive UK rave influences that he had picked up from his brother’s records. 

While they had been working in close proximity to each other, it hadn’t occurred to the brothers to combine their efforts yet. Besides an isolated release as TR/ER in 2012 for the aptly-named Brothers imprint, they stuck to their own worlds. “We never actually meant for TR\ER to be a thing” explained Ed in an interview with De School. It was a lone incident for them and it didn’t establish anything that would eventually inform their sound together as Overmono.

The idea for Overmono and serious collaboration would only really come much later. “We were driving down to our Mum’s one evening,” Ed Russell told the Quietus ”and it suddenly just hit us that we should start properly making music together.” While they’ve never confirmed what encouraged this epiphany (or what music might have been playing in the car at that time) what followed was a five-day writing session in a cottage away from the distractions of city life in London.

Before the writing session, Tom had received a box of unwanted records from a brother in law, and while it was largely inconsequential records, one box had contained “loads of amazing early Detroit stuff like Underground Resistance and Transmat records,” encouraging the older sibling to “take the lot.” From this they sampled what they could, building “a big library of sounds we thought were interesting, and that was almost the start of Overmono.” 

Processing the samples beyond recognition, Ed and Tom laid the foundation for what would become the first in a series of three records for XL Recordings called “Arla.” “There was a tinge of nostalgia to the Arla series of records,” Tom told De School. “Those three records were very personal to us in trying to establish a blueprint of our references and define what Overmono is about.” Creating that blueprint from those early Detroit influences, Overmono is built on a foundation of Techno, while channeling everything from those pivotal UK influences to trance into their music in an abstract collage of the history of dance music. “I guess we don’t specifically see Overmono as a solely techno-focused project” Tom explained in the Quietus, and while Ed considers Tessela as “something that definitely folded into Overmono,” they’ve severed any ties with their solo aliases in Overmono. It merely came down to the box of records.

While they established something individual in their solo projects, “Overmono offers us the chance to be much more expansive in our productions,” Ed told De School. Pursuing melody rather than function, the duo set out to create music that although more abstract, could live beyond the dance floor and the 12” through the Arla series of records for XL. It’s only during their fourth EP, Whities 019 that they would emerge with a sound that would define their more recent records for the likes of Poly Kicks, which brought their sound further to the middle of the dance floor again. 

While Arla was based around samples, from Whities 019 forward they were creating their own unique and individual melodic pieces. “We both love a bit of trance,” Tom told the Quietus, somewhat predictively in strains of music that could be heard through their more recent records like the self-titled EP from this last November. Between buoyant melodies and percussive rhythms that ricochet between quaver notes and broken beat samples, Overmono has defined a sound over the last three records that has found some synchronicity with current dance floor trends, without pandering to them. 

Records like “Raft Living” infuse this stark melodic element with the roots of UK rave culture, where blistering beat arrangements envelope everything else in that very same lack of subtlety that defined Ed’s work as Tessela. 

What sets Overmono’s music apart is their ability to bring this sound beyond the recorded format to the live stage. With a visceral approach to their machines, their “music is defined by the kit that we use” according to Ed in a Resident Advisor feature. That translates to a live situation too with a “more cohesive set” emerging as the pair unpack their music with their machines leading them down a path to a “middleground between freedom and improvisation.” 

Between making records, their individual output, and playing live, they also managed to find time to collaborate with Joy O, in one of the biggest tracks on the dance floor during 2019, ”Bromley.” It emerged closer to those UK Rave influences, with a perfunctory percussive arrangement, where minimal is key and every element needs to count, bearing closer resemblance to a track “Daisy Chain,” than the more recent “Le Tigre.” 

As Joy O’s music is want to do, there was an incredible hype surrounding the track, and with good reason, and while Overmono had already garnered a lot of attention for their music and live show, it has only gone to cement Overmono as a tour de force on the electronic club music scene of today. From their first records to where they’ve channelled their sound and their live show, they’ve established something unique together as Overmono. 

TBT: Joy Orbison – Hyph Mngo

A faint thewy organ, floats in from the distance, reluctantly filling the stereo field. A mere suggestion of tension accompanies the augmented volume, before the body of sound reveals itself as some distorting imitation of an organ, most likely coaxed from a FM synthesiser. The year is 2009 and the song is “Hyph Mngo” by an unknown artist called Joy Orbison and before it’s even reached the pressing plant, it’s been widely acknowledged as the track of the year, by some of London’s most significant selectors and tastemakers. 

It was a debut release by an unknown artist on an independent label called Hotflush recordings, but it preceded to garner a kind of hype reserved for pop music. Indie magazine Pitchfork called it a “spectacularly well-crafted dubstep song,” singing the track’s praises well in advance of the official release date on more than one feature, while XLR8R quite rightly called Joy Orbison an “artist to watch.” It seemed that every DJ of notable repute in the UK had a copy of this record, tucked away in their arsenal and if they wanted a lethargic dance floor to go off in the summer of 2009, all they had to do was play “Hyph Mngo.”

London in 2009 was an exciting landscape for electronic music. Dubstep had been firmly inducted in the underbelly of the UK capital at places like Plastic People and had started to make waves in the mainstream through artists like Skream and Benga, but a new generation of artists had begun to redefine the parlance almost at the same time. Formed on of the foundations of the extended UK Bass music family (most often UK garage) Dubstep started to incorporate a heady mixture of influences from the extended comos of dance music culture, developing the term beyond its original parameters.

A group of aspiring artists, producers, DJs and enthusiasts, converging in online communities like Dubstepforum and at club concepts like >>FWD started to penetrate the slowly stagnant Dubstep scene. Armed with the knowledge that the internet facilitated, and hugely respectful of the origins of UK’s music subcultures, these artists, DJs and producers would change the face of music in the city and the country to eventually become international pioneers in the booth and the studio that soon leaped beyond dubstep.

Peter O’Grady, who would later take on the name Joy Orbison (in some punchline of an undefined joke) , was one of these people. Growing up in greater London, O’Grady discovered UK dance music from an early age thanks to an influential relative. His uncle is Ray Keith and had been a pivotal figure on the UK’s Drum n Bass scene from its inception, contributing a few seminal moments on the dance floor in the late nineties and early noughties. “I had started to become interested in dance music,” O’Grady told Factmag during a rare interview at the start of his career, “so he would send me his albums and records.” Only 12 years old at the time, these albums arrived to become an obsession, spurred on by an enthusiasm only youth could bring. 

It expedited an entry into DJing, with a set of decks at 13 and between collecting records and honing his craft as a DJ, he was immersing himself completely in the sounds of Jungle, Drum n Bass, and most significantly Garage. “I was just a kid in awe of the culture,” he reminisced in a recent Dazed and Confused interview with Gabriel Szatan. He was eager “to go to record shops and get involved, but never holding any power,” he needed to make an impression first. “Production was always the natural progression” to that next step he told Factmag “but I actually waited quite a while – ’til I was about 18 – before I really gave it a go.”

As the darker hues of UK Garage developed into Grime on the estates of London, O’Grady took first steps into production, “trying to imitate those 8 bar grime tracks” on the predominant  Fruity Loops software. Little more that an ingratiating “hobby” at first, O’Grady’s skills developed as his musical purview grew to include everything from post-rock (he was even in a band at one stage) to classic House, laying the foundation for what become the fusion of styles that would gather round Joy Orbison and his first release “Hyph Mngo.”

“Why is our enthusiasm for Joy Orbison so outsized compared to what we express for his peers?” asked Little White Earbuds a few years later via a review of “Ellipsis.” It’s an interesting question, and the answer still eludes us today. “Hyph Mngo” wasn’t necessarily breaking any molds per se at that time. The two step garage rhythm had become quite pedestrian at that point and it wasn’t the first time producers flirted with classic Garage in the scope of Dubstep either. The year before Skream had released Skreamizm 5 which contained the bubbling “One for the heads who remember” – a track that bore some striking similarities to “Hyph Mngo” in its use of a fractured vocal sample, a two step percussive loop and a lot of emphasis on the sub-bass frequencies.

By 2009 that scene was moving at a staggering rate however with the old guard like Skream (who is only a few years O’Grady’ senior) quickly moving over for the next movement in the UK’s dance music scene. New labels like Hessle Audio were emerging and encouraging a wave of new artists to explore every shadowy enclave of UK dance genres and further afield. It was a very innovative era for the music, and borders were completely broken down, with Dubstep’s ingrained formulas becoming almost immediately passé. 

The lfo (low frequency oscillator) “wobbly” basslines and syncopated rhythms that had defined the genre were now holding it back, as artists, some of whom were active in Dubstep, looked beyond those features in developing the music at a rapid pace. An artist like Joy Orbison signalled the latest in a movement that was always looking to the next, but unlike many tracks that came and disappeared from the XLR8R downloads section, “Hyph Mngo” had the presence to back up the hype. 

Its magnificence is ingrained in the fundamentals of track and its Garage foundations.“I think a lot of my sound comes from UK Garage, producers like Todd Edwards, Zed Bias and Groove Chronicles,” admitted O’Grady in Factmag, and that’s quite significant in the appeal of the record. Instead of relying on what was becoming tired tropes in the world of UK’s dance music, O’Grady proffered an interpretation of the classic UK Garage sounds from a modern perspective. 

Two-step garage rhythms forged in the cold metallic percussive range of Grime, bounce  through thinly splaid house chords. A disembodied vocal sample haunts the progression, only on occasion revealing the lyric “it’s you” while wave after wave of sub-bass anchor the track to its ratcheting beat. 

Elements of House, Garage and Dubstep are all accounted for, but they are unfamiliar, re-contextualized in the confluence. The “wobble” bass line is there too, but completely devoid of the rasping sonorities of its Dubstep origins, it’s been relieved of its cliché. It’s set to the back, where it serves as a harmonic accompaniment rather than taking center stage. The bass line and the curious use of an FM organ synth, sets the tone for a track that floats between distant worlds of House, Grime and Dubstep. 

In a recent interview with the Quietus, O’Grady told the writer: “I think people like to assume you’re quite ignorant when you’re younger, and people maybe thought we were just these kids into jungle and garage and that, but I was interested in lots of styles of music.” That eclectic approach encouraged in some part by a youthful enthusiasm might have played an integral part in how that track turned out in fact, and although unique, it was the machinations behind that track that played the most significant role in the eventual success of “Hyph Mngo.”

It wasn’t exactly anything was well defined as the Dubstep scene that enabled the hype, but with a few key figures shouting its praises in an extensive online community where blogs had surpassed the music press for a while, the popularity of that record, and many more among it, took on a life of its own. O’Grady had tentatively handed a few copies to some DJ friends at first according to the factmag interview, and he was “really unconfident about the reaction” it would get. It went “‘pretty crazy” however and exceeded O’Grady’s expectations by far. 

One DJ, in particular, played a fundamental role in the track’s reception. When Martin Clarke (aka Blackdown) played it for the first time on Rinse FM in the summer of 2009, he claimed in no uncertain terms, that “this tune is massive” and proceeded to proclaim it a “dubstep anthem” in a feature for Pitchfork.  

Between Clarke, the DJs playing the track, and the blogs picking up on it on an almost daily basis, it catapulted the name Joy Orbison into the public psyche for anybody interested in alternative club music. It didn’t take long for that track to live on its own terms however. On the ten-year anniversary of its release, Gabriel Szatan writing in DJ Mag called Hyhp Mngo “a touchstone, firmly fixed in contemporary electronic music’s vernacular and its bloodstream,” and if I could offer even the slightest criticism, it would only be that success of “Hyph Mngo” detracted from the equally brilliant B-side “Wet Look.”

It played some part as a catalyst beyond Dubstep, which other artists and DJs took into Techno and House, and Joy Orbison even further (81B on Hinge finger is a great example) , which continues to fuse and merge with everything from psychedelia to proto House. “I don’t resent that exposure,” he told Factmag about his sudden rise,  “but I’m definitely more excited about what’s to come than what I’ve done so far.”  

With what we know today from releases like “The shrew would have cushioned the blow,” “Big Room Tech House DJ Tool – TIP!”, “Ellipsis” and his recent collaboration with Overmono for “Bromley” those words come as an uncanny reminder from the past.  If I could pose an answer to LWE’s initial question, and with the advantage of hindsight, our enthusiasm for Joy Orbison is the result of his unique ability to surprise around each corner. He makes effective dance music that feigns preconceptions. You never know what to expect from a Joy O track and it’s always a pleasant surprise. 

Raw Soul with Detroit Swindle

House music is a machine-music imbued with soul. This has defined the characteristics and the limitations of the genre for four decades as artists and producers strive to parlay that human touch into a communal experience, coaxed from rigid machines. A sample, a choreographed modulation, a swing in the rhythm or a simple error, bring back House music to its origins. It’s where Funk, Soul and Disco still informs the work and artists like Detroit Swindle thrive in their modern interpretations of this ever-lasting genre. 

Lars Dales and  Maarten Smeets have been making music together as Detroit Swindle since the early part of the last decade. Both successful DJs and producers in their own right, the pair merged as a DJ/production duo when Maarten started playing at the club Lars was programming. Maarten’s underground sensibilities didn’t go down well with upper management however and Lars was forced to fire Maarten. They had started to bond over a shared musical passion at this point however, which developed into some studio time and eventually the start of Detroit Swindle. We don’t know what happened to that club…

As Detroit Swindle they released their first EP on Dirt Crew recordings, channeling those irrevocable Soul influences into the deeper echelons of House music. Gospel vocals and sparkling Rhodes keys streak a path to the dance floor on “Guess What,” establishing a Detroit Swindle sound that has veered little from these prominent roots up to today and their last release for AUS music “Rhythm Girl Swing.” Incorporating some elements of UK Garage and Disco in this latest release, the foundations of their work remain unchanged with an analogue warmth enveloping their sound.

Between releases for Dirt Crew and AUS, they’ve developed their own Heist imprint, providing a platform for others to extend the Detroit Swindle sound into new musical universes. Between their own EPs, running the label, playing live and DJing they’ve also released two LPs, which saw them re-imagine the sound outside of the club. From “Boxed Out” to “High Life” they’ve extended the Detroit Swindle sonic palette and with the assistance of some key collaborators on “High Life,” they created one of 2018’s most captivating House music LPs. 

All through this Detroit Swindle have remained steadfast in their sonic approach and true to the original themes of House music that brought them together. Whether they’re distilling it into original music, performing live or DJing, Lars and Maarten have found a unique voice on the musical landscape.

Detroit Swindle play our basement at Frædag next week

I’ve heard the story about the circumstances that brought you together to lay the foundation of Detroit Swindle. But Lars, did you end up firing Maarten from the club, like your boss asked?

Lars: Well, Maarten had the choice to either change what he was playing, or stop playing at the club. He chose to stick with the music he liked playing and I think he didn’t really mind not playing there anymore. It was a shame though, since all the bar staff and the regulars really liked to hear the music he played.  

What happened directly after in terms of the club and both your positions there?

Maarten: I’m not sure if the place still exists, but if it does, it probably isn’t the type of bar I’d go to for a drink. I was fine not playing there anymore and Lars quit his job as a programmer quite soon after to have more time in the studio together with me, which ended up being quite a good choice for the both of us. 

So all’s well that ends well. What was the music that you bonded over in the beginning that cemented what you would eventually do as Detroit Swindle?

Lars: It was mostly soul, funk, motown that we both grew up with. We were both also really into old school hiphop and that was really the foundation for our sound. We wanted to add our version of soul to modern day electronic music.

You were both accomplished solo artists/DJs before coming together as Detroit Swindle. How did you experience your individual tastes converging as Detroit Swindle?

Maarten: having had another career and another partnership with its ups and downs really helps in your growth as a person and an artist. We both had worked with someone else before and have learned valuable lessons from it. From a taste-perspective, we both add something that’s really from ourselves to the table. The combination of Lars’ interests and taste together with mine is what makes it click. It’s not always easy as a duo since you’re always creatively dependent on the other, but in the end, it’s a combination that just works really well.  

Did either of you ever feel you had to adapt your approach to music to accommodate the other?

Lars: During DJ sets, you can’t always decide on directions to take. Sometimes, it’s important to follow the idea of the other and that means finding a record to play that connects with the vibe the other is trying to go for rather than going for something different. Dj’ing in a duo is in a sense always about accommodating to each other’s ideas. And that’s how cool new things can emerge with combinations you’ve never thought of before. 

When we’re producing, there’s a golden rule that we both must really stand behind the track that we’re making. Whether it’s a b2 for an ep, or a big remix, we only release it when we’re both happy. That means that sometimes you have to make compromises to create something that’s really ‘us’.

There’s a lot to unpack in the name Detroit Swindle, but I think the connection with Detroit is an interesting one. There’s always been a tradition of Detroit in the Netherlands, from what the Bunker guys were doing to what the Dekmantel boys were doing at the start. I know you are only able to speak for yourself, but why do you think this relationship with Detroit is so strong in the Netherlands?

Maarten: That’s an interesting question… I guess musically, Holland has always had a big jazz, soul and disco scene with its eyes firmly set on the midwest with record import, festivals, stuff like that. For us, it’s the raw soul and unconventional approach to music in a sense. Whether it’s arrangement, the raw way of recording music, or the loose programming of samples, it’s all so very ‘alive’. That’s probably the biggest reason why it appeals to us so much.

Detroit’s legacy is kind of enshrined in Techno. Has it always been about House music for you, and where do you usually draw the line in your productions and DJ sets in your interpretation of a Detroit sound?

Lars: It was always Hiphop for me actually, with Dilla really being the main inspiration for me for a long time. If I look at our record bag, there will probably always be a Moodymann whitelabel, Omar S. or Underground Resistance record somewhere. That said, there’s so much great music out there and musical inspiration can come from all over the world these days, which is a good thing. It’s just great to be knee deep into soulful electronic music and hearing it pop up all over the world. 

Is the Heist platform just an extension of this sound?

Maarten: Heist is an extension of our sound so you could definitely say it’s an extension of where our inspiration comes from. We’ve had 6 years worth of great releases and in 2020, we’ve got some great diverse music coming up again, so we’re also pushing the sound to new places and drawing new inspiration from that. 

 

What do you look for in artists or music to make it onto the label, and is there any direction, from your part that you’ve always instilled in the artists coming to the label?

Lars: most of all, we look for artists who have their own sound, or at least something identifiable and unique to him / her / them. How well that thing is shaped is not really relevant, but it has to be there. We are really actively involved with the music our artists make and send us and with that, we help them shape their own sound. At the end of the day, we’re just very happy to be the messengers of all these amazing records.  

Over the years and your releases, you’ve stayed very close to the foundations of your sound, but you must constantly be evolving as musicians and artists. How have you experienced your own music evolve over the years?

Maarten: We’ve obviously learned a lot more about production techniques and mixing down, although I would still gladly leave the more technical stuff to real pro’s and stick to writing music myself. We’ve started working way more with analog equipment which really helped us in expanding our sound, understanding synthesis and also, very important, has ensured we still have loads of fun jamming in the studio. Our sound has definitely evolved as well, but I still feel very much connected to the music we made in the first part of our career. Change is a natural thing and we really embrace it with our productions. Moreover, we both really don’t see the point in repeating the same trick over and over, so it’s also in our character to keep on looking for fresh ideas.

I’m thinking about your last release on AUS, Rhythm Girl Swing. I picked up on hints Disco on Vibrations and a little bit of Garage on Wado Bayo. Was that something that you were actively trying to achieve on that record; expanding the repertoire?

Lars: To be honest, not really. We rarely go into the studio with a real plan or direction we want to take things. We just let the vibe of the moment take us wherever it goes. When we put together an EP, we always like to fit in some different styles, types of energy. Wado Baya is quite deep for us but still has that soulful warmth. The disco vibe on Vibrations is something that’s very close to us. We still like to switch it up though, for instance with this track with the more techy stabs, which gives the track a nice edge. 

What did you take away from that EP, that might inform future releases?

Maarten: It had been a while since we released on a label other than Heist, but it was nice to get this EP out there on a great label like Aus. The EP did really well and that felt like a nice encouragement to explore that deeper side of things as well. Funnily enough, the next record we did was a full on house record, so that kinda proves the point we made in the last question. We just go into the studio and see whatever comes out. 

With Techno’s popularity at an all time high at the moment and with House music favouring a kind of lo-fi soundcloud aesthetic, how do you feel you have had to adapt if at all with the current sounds on European dance floors?

Lars: We both have a weak spot for classic techno, so we always bring along a few bangers if we play a late slot or do an allnighter. The lofi house aesthetic is kinda interesting, because it’s a subgenre really focused on sound design, which I really applaud. That said, there’s loads of badly executed good ideas and well executed bad ideas in both genres (and every other genre) so it’s still all about making that right selection when you’re playing. As far as our sound goes, we’ve been playing music from all kinds of genres and love switching it up, no matter what genre is currently getting all the buzz.  

We really loved your last LP, High Life here and still play it in our café. It’s perfect for breaching that space between the cafe concept and what we do at night. How do you approach the LP differently to what you do on EPs and singles?

Maarten: That’s great to hear. Our intention with High Life was to create a soulful electronic album with a lot of live elements. When we made it, we took 3 weeks off of touring, which we normally never do. During those 3 weeks, we had guest musicians come over, locked ourselves up in the studio and lived the music, closing ourselves off for all external influences. During the process, we also have let go of the idea of creating music for clubs and just went into jams with an open mind. It’s with that mindset, along with the fact that we had no real pressure on, that we were able to write that album. The process for us when we’re writing music for an EP is different, but also really fun. It’s a more lightweight approach, where you get to put music together you’ve written in the studio, in an airplane, waiting for a pickup, or wherever. It’s also nice to write music without any time constraints, which makes it possible to let something sit for a while and you get to think about the direction you want to take the track, think about possible collabs you could do, etc. Both processes are really nice to go through and the variety in output makes it really worthwhile to work on EP’s now and plan for a new album in the future. 

 

There were a lot of collaborations on that LP compared to Boxed Out. What encouraged these collaborations and how did it affect the sound of the LP as a whole?

Lars: Our good friend and live collaborator Lorenz Rhode was there for quite a while to write keys for a lot of the tracks, which was great. We did a studio session with him and Tom Misch which ended up being a super special jam session. The recording with Jungle by Night was done in the Amsterdam Red Bull Studios and was amazing as well, having all these super talented guys jam on our track and have fun with each other. For us, these collabs have really made the album more diverse and give it a nice live touch. The combination of programmed electronics, sequenced synths, drums and samples and those unquantized live recordings give the whole album a real special feel that makes the album more than a dance album, but more a  journey through our view on electronic music.

You’ve toured the album for a bit, playing live, but you’re coming to Jaeger to play a DJ set. What’s the correlation between live, the label and DJing for you that makes it a distinctly Detroit Swindle experience?

Maarten: The live show is pretty much all original DS tracks and during our DJ sets, we try and play all different kinds of music. We play a lot of unreleased Heist tracks in our Dj sets and I guess all the music we play, whether it’s live or DJ, have a role in our the Sonic space of the DS sound. The live show has a certain energy with all the equipment and keyboards, all the live playing, a lights show, etc. It’s more of a show than when we’re DJ’ing. While DJ’ing, we really get to connect with the crowd, and in the interaction, we try to get a feel for the musical direction to take. In a way, the label, the DJ shows and the live shows are different ways for us to express our view on music and together, they form a really solid basis for the Detroit Swindle sound.

And what  should people expect from your upcoming set at Jaeger?

Lars: It’s been quite a while since we were at Jaeger and last time we played the courtyard, so we’re super excited to play here again. Usually when preparing a set, we go through the latest promo’s, get the latest tracks on Heist on the USB and check if there’s a new DS track to try out before we send it off for mastering. There’s always a nice combination of old and new music, as well as a trip through various styles. I couldn’t tell you now what we’ll play, but there’ll definitely be some unreleased tracks in there, as well as a few really nice records we got at a recent shopping spree. 

Influences: Beyond the arctic circle with Charlotte Bendiks

In the 1990s, music in Norway had largely been the claim of a small University town just beyond the arctic circle. Uncompromising figures like Bjørn Torske, Per Martinsen, Rune Lindbæk, Ole Mjøs and Geir Jenssen had found an affinity for machine music, that had put them and Tromsø on the map and paved a way for a whole lineage of artists that arrived after them.

There was no universal sound or even genre underpinning these individual artists or their music. The glacial ambience of Jenssen‘s Biosphere; the ecclastical highs of Torske, Linbæk and Mjøs’ Volcano; and the futurist machine rhythms of Martinsen’s Mental Overdrive stimulated nothing of a scene and yet there was something distinctive in the music that every artist brought to their individual musical destinations. 

Even though most of those original torchbearers have moved away from the region, Tromsø’s legacy is enshrined in those pioneers’ early accomplishments, with younger artists like Charlotte Bendiks imbibing that same  legacy for this generation and the next. Charlotte Bendiks has been a pivotal figure in the modern history of Tromsø and Norway’s electronic music scene with records on Per Martinsen’s Love OD label, Correspondant and Cómeme. A DJ, live artist and producer, her music has reached a global audience, and has found a fair few influential record bags. 

Last year’s “Hjemme Erotic” on Matthew Herbert’s Accidental Jnr. label, found Bendiks harnessing familiar traits in her own music, with polyrhythmic percussion and minimalist arrangements defining her sound as an artist. In the title track, Bendiks yet again reflects on home (hjemme) in literal terms, but with a breathy vocal and a drum machine evoking some intangible tribe, it also traces a faint lineage towards the earliest musical traditions from the region.

Like a post-modern nod to Joik, “Hjemme Erotic” continues to permeate with the sounds and atmosphere of Charlotte Bendiks’ roots. It lends that distinctive charm that has informed much of the music of the region, but it’s still an elusive appeal that remains largely undefined in Bendiks’ music and her influences from the region. Here she uncovers some of those influences ahead of her next  appearance at Jaeger for her IRONI residency. 

 

Kolar Goi – Audio Krill 

Kolar Goi, Aedena Cycle, Dr Gaute Barlindhaug – the man, the myth, the legend! One of the key figures in the Tromsø music scene is this guy,  as a producer, festival organizer for Insomnia festival and teaching music production for the university. Audio Krill sums up everything good about Gaute for me, and it is one of my all time favorite arctic tracks.

There’s quite an experimental element to this track. Is that something that you’re naturally drawn to in music, something unusual?

Yes, everything that stands out as different is interesting to me. Something with its own personality. 

I’ve always found a coldness in the music from the area. That’s obviously subjective, but the environment must have some effect on the music that’s made there. How do you think it’s informed your listening habits and the music you make?

That is very hard to answer. In my experience the same musical element that some people find cold, others find warm. The cold dark weather outside might influence the amount of hours you spend inside a warm studio in the winter, and that affects your musical output…

Beatservice, like Gaute has been a pillar of the Dance music community in Tromsø. What kind of influence do you think that sense of community has on the music from the region?

Tromsø is a very small city and the community of underground music is even smaller, so I think every person that takes part has shaped the music scene in a much bigger way than they know themselves.

 

Mental Overdrive – Diskodans

This genius of a track goes beyond genres and styles and stands out in it’s own way. I also love how Per used a vocal sample of a famous finish disco dancer and teacher Åke Blomqvist. It’s really the cherry on top for me, and what brings the quirky nordic vibe to the track. 

Per is such a versatile and prolific artist. Is this something that you try to emulate in your music?

I wanna be – I wanna be like PER!

Why do you think that “quirky nordic vibe” is so important in electronic music, not just from Tromsø, but the rest of Norway too?

I am not sure if I would say it is important in nordic music, but it is an important part of the northern Norwegian culture. It is also a big part of northern Norwegian storytelling traditions, and I find that this (dark) humour in music can motivate to take risks, stand out and dare to be different.

Per moved back to Tromsø a while back and it’s a small city where you’re bound to bump into figures like that regularly. Is there a healthy artistic exchange between this old guard and some of the new artists coming through, because of that?

That of course depends on each and every individual, some are more open for communication than others. Of course, it helps that it is a small and tight knit community. It is easy to know someone who knows someone, and that makes all the creative people in the north connect. The music scene is well connected to the film-, theatre- and art scene as well. There are a lot of collaborations across various expressions.

 

Nikkeby Lufthavn – To the moon

Nikkeby Lufthavn is my favorite rock band of all time. I discovered them when I was a punk-interested teenager, and to me Nikkeby Lufthavn is Tromsø’s best kept secret. I love the lyrics in To the Moon!

What was it that eventually lured you over to the electronic arts?

I don’t think of it like that anymore. Music is music. I discovered punk because I met some people who were in the punk scene, later I met some people who were into Detroit Techno and discovered electronic music via them. So I guess my answer is accessibility. 

How does this kind of music reflect in your own music and DJ sets?

I like the DIY punk attitude a lot. I think you can hear from some of my music that I am more into a “dirty” and “home made” sound than keeping it clean and smooth.

 

Mari Boine & Liu Sola – Maze

Mari Boine is a otherworldly and one of the most powerful artists I know. This track is my all time favorite of hers, I can’t begin to describe it, just listen and feel it!

How did you come across Mari Boine and why is her music so powerful to you?

Mari Boine is a very famous artist in Norway, so I discovered her and her music at a very young age. Her music is very emotional, and her emotions are very powerful.

Those sami roots are obviously strong in the north, but is it something accessible, or do you still have to seek it out to find it? 

Oh lord, where to begin… This is a history lesson of the Norwegian state’s discrimination that I won’t try to take on here. The roots are strong and all over, but a lot was hidden and some is even lost forever.

There’s a primal quality to the drums in that piece, and it’s something that I often pick up on in the rhythms and percussion in your music. Are you more likely to take your cues from a folk tradition like this than say, Techno when it comes to those elements in your tracks?

I like to think of all percussive music as primal or trance music. Repetitive percussive music to me is primal trance music, and I like to think that it has been part of human culture since before electricity was invented. I combine acoustic and electronic percussive sounds, and I don’t think of it as one or the other, it all comes together to make the vibe and groove I want to express. 

Bjørn Torske – Spelunker

Bjørn Torske aka The Codfather. Spelunker is a track I fell head over heels in love with when the Feil Knapp record was released back in 2007. 

All the electronic music music you mention in this list is from around this time. What was it about that era in music that influenced you so much?

These are the tracks I discovered when I started going out to clubs in Tromsø, kind of my introduction to electronic music. Also some of the tracks I started playing when I started “DJ-ing” in bars. They shaped my taste a lot!

That “quirky nordic vibe” is strong here too, like 8 bit dub. Torske has always been a versatile musical figure too. How do you think those elements still inform your tastes as a DJ today?

I like Bjørn Torske a lot because of his musical freedom across different styles and genres. He is the original Codfather and pioneer of Norwegian electronic music. I think without him all the electronic music from Norway would be very very different.

Seminal moments with DJ Spacebear

*DJ Spacebear stands in for DJ Lekkerman at Den Gyldne Sprekk for the month of January.

It’s still early on a Tuesday night and the song “Street Life” is playing on an empty dance floor, waiting for the night to officially start. The upbeat Disco groove, slinking strings and Randy Crawford’s beatific vocals contrast the gritty subject contained in lyrics like; “Prince charming always smiles, behind a silver spoon.” It’s the Crusaders, Lars Moen (DJ Spacebear) informs me, without a beckoning question. “It’s a long track” he tells DJ Kompressorkanonen (Orjan Sletner), who is leaning on his flank with the next record, Lars implying that he would like to hear the song for its entirety.   

Much like the Crusaders song, Lars is something of an enigma. His long, straight hair, tied up in a neat ponytail, an ageless physiognomy and his earnest speech pattern are at odds with the stereotypical image of a DJ today. A loose-fitting, Rush Hour records sweater lends the only clue to his musical passions and if you didn’t see him behind a set of decks, you’d hardly place him there. Yet, he’s been a central figure in House music and Techno in Oslo for the last thirty years, playing records for audiences in their thousands in and around Oslo in the mid nineties, before it fractured and retreated to the underground, where DJ Spacebear continued to be a constant presence in the DJ booth. 

Today he regularly plays places like Hærverk, where he’s shared the booth with legendary underground figures like Terrace and Spin Fidelity, and his sets can go from Deep Ambient Techno to the Disco he’s currently playing through Jaeger’s soundsystem in the lounge.

“I like soul,” says Lars in a bare whisper, “because it has an atmosphere” and lately he’s been enjoying excavating some of those records again in what seems to be an endless pursuit of discovery for the music enthusiast. Recently, he tells me Disco and Soul has led him down a path t to “swing jazz from the thirties and forties,” and even after doing this for nearly thirty years, he’s still finding music he’s never heard before. Through his own 10 000-strong record collection and an unceasing habit of collecting he keeps going “back in time” and still comes across some things “he’s never heard before.” 

The first record

Lars grew up in the suburbs of Oslo listening to a lot of Rock music. “It was a really boring place,” but he seemed to find some solace in music from an early age. He “forced” his father to take him to his first concert in 1988 to see AC/DC, but around the same time he was listening to Kraftwerk and Break Machines. “I was really impressed by Kraftwerk,” he remembers. “We are the robots, is a record I really remember that is important for the introduction to electronic music for me.”

Lars developed the introduction into a hobby and started buying this new music through the cassette medium. He bought Break Machines’ seminal debut on cassette and it’s a record he will still return to, on the various other formats he’s acquired over the years. “I still like it” he says, but if there’s one seminal record that set him on path to DJing it has to be Humanoid’s Stakker. He originally “recorded it from the radio” on a cassette tape, but he “didn’t know what it was,” setting him on a journey to find the first Techno record he ever owned. “It was like zero for me” he recalls. The “crazy breakbeat, acid vocoder Techno” had arrived from space it seemed and while Lars had been familiar with these kinds of themes through Kraftwerk’s music, Humanoid was “more raw and rough” and its lack of identity consolidated music with  another passion for Lars… an interest in space.

Lars “was really into astronomy” and from that moment, he would spend evenings listening to Techno while drawing imagined landscapes from space. At one point he had to make a decision between a telescope and a record player and he chose the record player, taking the first steps to becoming a DJ. He christened his new DJ alias DJ Spacebear to convey  what he thought about this “music from space with the power of a bear.” 

The first DJ set

Lars retreated into his fantasy landscapes and the radio, where he found a wealth of new music that sounded like Humanoid. Radio stations like Radio Nova and their jocks DJ Apple Pie (Christian Grimshei) and DJ Hanza (Hans Erik Hansen) introduced Lars to the world of Techno and House. “These DJs were important to me,” stresses Lars and some of the shows he recorded on cassette back then are still in his possession today. He found “a lot of inspiration from these shows,” but it would remain a largely solitary passion for him through his teenage years. He was “too young” to go to raves and his insular environment found very few kindred spirits on his block. 

Hip Hop had reached the height of its popularity in Norway by then, and these were the only kids that Lars could relate to during that time. “I had five or six friends that were into Hip Hop, so I hung around with these people, but they didn’t like Techno.” He bought his first record player in 1991 and had to wait another year to save up for the second, but would join some of these friends in their basements to play some records. They would often get angry when he played an Underground Resistance record. “No, don’t play Disco…” they would complain before Lars could defend himself proclaiming “this is not Disco, it’s Techno!”

While he “was really alone” in his love of Techno and House at home, in Oslo city a record store owned by Morten Winsnes became a refuge for the aspiring DJ. Winsnes had worked with the likes of radio DJ and hip Hop mainstay, Tommy Tee at Innova Music before establishing his own store and club in the city. Located where the Duo sex shop is today on Møllergata, Morten had stocked the shop with “mostly House and Techno.” Personally, the shop owner “was into the hardstuff ” according to Lars, but he had all the records from Lars’ radio shows with music from Underground Resistance, R&S and Strictly Rhythm lining the shelves. 

Winsnes “imported a lot of good stuff,” and had started to notice the young Lars’ purchases.  The older collector saw something in his younger contemporary, who had still to graduate from bedroom DJ, and snuck the under-aged DJ Spacebear into the booth of his club, CB4,  “the first permanent Techno club in Oslo.”

The first Clubbing experience

“I was never really interested in clubbing,” says Lars. “There was no club culture” in Oslo in Lars’ opinion, but he was undeniably intrigued by the raves that started cropping up around the city, and naturally gravitated to the music they were playing. 

After he played his first gig in 1994, this music and the rave scene would grow exponentially, and DJ Spacebear would become a familiar name appearing on marques around Oslo. At the height of its popularity, Lars would be playing a rave at Oslo Spektrum with 8000 people in attendance, but unlike most of his peers of that generation, Lars refuses to look onto those times with the rose-tinted hue of nostalgia clouding his memories. At that time the scene was “too commercial,” he explains “and I didn’t like it, because you had all these separate rooms.” There’s always been a refinement that appeals to him as a DJ that has only matured since his beginnings, when “everything was a mess.” It  was an “exciting mess” nonetheless, and it was through this sonic disarray that he would find his more rarefied style as a DJ.

DJ Spacebear was one of the first DJs I had seen after moving to Oslo. He was playing in Mir, when it was still in Toftes gate, crouching over the mixer and two technics turntables, making minute adjustments on the faders. Two tracks were overlapping like two waves merging on a calm beach, with only slight adjustment in volume between the two pieces. Lars completely ignored the EQ section, merely fading one record into the next with a care that suggested a personal dedication to each track. “I like to have respect for the music,” he says when I ask him about his curious style. “I think you should show what the artist expresses.” He feigns from using “FX” in his mixes and although he’ll be more adventurous with the crossfader when he’s playing more jacking Chicago House, that attention to detail in the music prevails. 

It’s something that can be heard in the meta narrative of any DJ Spacebear DJ set too. His parents, a pair of “old hippies” that were “really into music” had always given Lars a very liberal freedom to “listen to what I wanted,” but when it came to DJ mixes, it was he who started to define the boundaries. In a record collection that nearly covers the recorded format, Lars doesn’t consider himself an “eclectic” DJ. “I wanted to create my own worlds,” he explains and strives to create mixes designated to distinct spheres in electronic music. While he can be found  “jumpin between planets” from time, these only cover short distances beholden to the theme of the mix, defined by succinct categorisations like Acid, Jazz or when Lars gets particularly contemplative, Ambient. 

The first Ambient record

Ambient music like Techno arrived from space with the Orb’s Blue Room in 1992 for Lars. “I was totally stunned by the lush, atmospheric cinematic sound on that record,” he remembers “and it had the same otherworldly sound as techno and rave.“

Ambient music had already been indoctrinated in rave culture at that point with raves sequestering a specific space for this kind of music in the chill-out room. While “train spotting some records that Mr.Kolstad (one of the members of Superskill) played at a rave in 1994” in one such room, Lars’ interest piqued and “started crate digging in used record shops to find out more about this old future.” It was music that extended long tendrils into the furthest reaches of recorded music, and it informed a large part of Lars’ own “experimentations” in the booth. Even today, he’s looking for those gateways to different planets between techno, house, acid, breakbeat, hardcore, and trance with ambient records like Pete Namlook’s FAX record, often bridging these gaps in one single record. 

At some point these fluid transitions between genres would start stretching the divide and that’s when the rooms at raves started splitting further and further apart in Oslo. Euro trance eventually ascended on the city too, saturating the last embers of a dying rave scene that couldn’t compete with the commercial dominance and people like Lars “pulled back to the underground.” Clubs like Skansen and Escape established new microcosms in Oslo clubbing shortly afterwards and Lars naturally moved with the Techno crowd and became a regular fixture in the booth at places like escape. 

The first drum Machine

During all this time he was nurturing a slow and steady development as an artist. He had bought his first drum machine, a Roland TR606 for 300kr after he saw DJ Hanza and Lars Petter Holte perform as D.A.C in a record store in Oslo. Already harbouring a curiosity for the mechanics of the music, there was an “a-ha moment” when he saw their performance. “It looked like a spaceship” he remembers with Holte and Hansen pushing buttons and turning knobs from their unusual control panel. “I have to do this,” Lars remembers thinking at the time and he would start incorporating the TR606 in his DJ sets at home. “I didn’t start making music,” he insists, “I just played with it.”

Getting to grips with the machine was easy and eventually he made some “really horrible” music with a friend, but it was only much later in 2008, that he would release his first records. It was “horrible time” however as the vinyl market had all but collapsed with Tech House DJs spawning like a digital virus on beatport. DJ Spacebear released three records on his own Retrace label in that year nonetheless. They were a selection of “old music” that Lars had been gathering over the years, with frenzied analogue drum machines and sinewy synths, playing to the functional demands of the DJ in a kind of modernised interpretation of retro Chicago sounds. 

They are records that were ahead of their time in terms of 2008 and would probably be more appreciated today, in the resurgence of the DIY nineties trends, than they would’ve been at the time of the uber-produced minimal Techno and Tech House that dominated the later half of the naughties.

“I think it’s more exciting than ever,” says Lars about the conditions today as we talk about some of the younger DJs and producers coming through in Oslo, appreciating these same sounds. “People are really interested in the history” he believes while “looking to the future.” It’s in this landscape he will be releasing his fourth record on Retrace as DJ Spacebear, informed by that same “retro Chicago” sound that defined his earliest music. The two tracks on this next release will be a couple of “jacking acid, old-school” tracks says Lars, but at the same time he’s already talking about the release after that one.

While his first records came out when everybody in Oslo was gravitating to Rock music, and DJ gigs were few and far between, this time around it seems that the rest of the city is finally on his wavelength. He had remained dedicated throughout those quiet years, biding his time with a radio show on Skranglebass and DJing when the rare gig cropped up, and today it seems that he is as busy as ever with a residency (or as close to one as you can get it) at Hærverk and playing every week, often twice. 

While the week before he had been playing a selection of Jazz electronica at Hærverk, on this occasion it will be Disco. In the week coming there’s a liquid drum n bass set in the wings, while the future will also see him playing alongside Detroit legend Orlando Voorn at Hærverk. 

He’s still digging through it all and while we wait around for Tuesday night to swing into action, he’s talking about a recent trip to Brazil, where he found some records of field recordings that “you can play in an ambient set” and the hidden treasures of Phillippenian Disco. 

He is still digging for new and old music in search of any “creative surprises” and he continues to “discover a lot of interesting Drum n Bass, Ambient, Dub, Drone, Dubstep styles like Martsman, James Clemens, Synkro and Shackleton.” It’s just one “smooth transition” to the other for Lars and as a music enthusiast the limits to his curiosity continue to go undefined. He’s merely an intrepid, intergalactic traveller, moving from one body to the next in an unabating curiosity, and a truly musical dedication for the records he plays. 

 

A legacy in House music: Profile on David Morales

By 1998, House music was no longer the reserve of a clandestine underground, operating out of New York, Chicago and Detroit. House music had reached the masses on an international scale with everybody from MTV to the Rolling Stones looking for a stake in genre. It had become big business beyond the majors as chartered flights to Ibiza grew exponentially and Pioneer introduced the CDJ 100s, turning DJing into an increasingly popular past time and a commodity for the brand.

In that year David Morales won a Grammy for remixer of the year, ironic since he’d all but given up on the studio, and released the original track ”Needin U.” It was a track that exceeded all expectations, and which some people still look on today as the track that solidified their love for House music. To Morales however this was just  “some sample shit I fucking slapped together,“ according to an interview with the artist on Finn Johannsen’s blog. It took him 2 hours to make that track and it was little more than an amalgam of two records he used to play back to back as a DJ, but the record lived on beyond Morales’ initial rejections and it became a definitive hit for the artist.  

The video for “Needin U” is a time capsule of that era and would make regular appearances on MTV’s late night programming well into the 2000’s. Filmed on location in Ibiza, it features an incredibly tanned David Morales arriving at the airport, with a record under his arm and a set of headphones in his hands – and no other luggage oddly – indulging in the heady excesses of the late nineties Ibiza from the beach to the club, featuring Morales in various stages of undress. Girls in bikinis, sand, sea and sun had distinguished that summer that House music reigned supreme with DJs like David Morales becoming household names for a new generation of kids flocking to the popularised sounds of the genre.  

David Morales had come a long way by then since his humble origins, and his is a story that echoes the story of House music. Born to a Puerto Rican family in New York, Morales was “living in the ghetto” when he discovered American music for the first time. There had only been Merengue, Salsa and folk music from Puerto Rico playing around the House before a babysitter had introduced a very young Morales to a 45 record called Spinning Wheel by Blood Sweat & Tears. “I can remember I was really, really young” he told Finn Johannsen, but it had released an early interest in music that soon saw the curious youngster frequent the local “illegal social clubs” in his neighbourhood. Under-aged, but unperturbed he would explore these new sounds at these illicit joints, one of which was in his building below. “It was all about the O’Jays and that kind of music. And I liked that.“ He bought his first O’Jays record and remembers “playing that record a hundred times a day” with a speaker hanging  out of the window so the whole neighbourhood could hear.

At 13 he had heard his first DJ playing Disco records consecutively, and by 15 he went to his first club and bought “Ten Percent“ on Salsoul. The speaker hanging out the window soon developed into a party in his apartment, and requests to play at other people’s house parties followed as he became a local mobile Disco music of some repute. “I just loved the music, it was just everything for me,” he remembers. At 18 he had made something of a career out of it, playing mostly commercial music, before somebody dropped “a stack of what they called Loft records” at his feet. “I was like ‘Whoa, what is this sound?’” It was a selection of expensive, limited press- and imported records, the kind of which they had been playing not only at the Loft, but also Paradise Garage. Although Morales had not yet been to either club, since they were strictly private clubs, he started making inroads as a dancer frequenting venues like Paradise Garage and the Loft through acquaintances with memberships, and eventually befriending people like Mancusso and DJ Kenny Carpenter. It was through Carpenter that he was inducted into a record pool, the first organisations that supplied DJs with new, unreleased music for the club, and it was through this pool that he would have his first major break as DJ.

He had already started playing at a club in Flatbush called the Ozone layer as a resident when somebody at the pool recommended Morales to Paradise Garage owner Michael Brody. Morales had only “been to the Garage five times just to hang out” according to an interview on the DJ History blog, when Brody called him up and Morales almost dismissed the request as a joke. “‘Hello, my name is Michael Brody, I own a club called Paradise Garage’” he tells Johannsen, re-enacting the scene, “and I’m like ‘Yeah boy, who the fuck is fucking me.’” Brody had never heard Morales play, but offered him a weekend at the Garage to cover a DJ that had “been playing like shit” purely on the recommendation of the record pool. 

“This wasn’t about doing two-hour sets,” he told Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton at DJ History, “this was about 11-hour sets, beginning to end, 12 to 11. And you had to beg me to stop!” It cemented Morales’ reputation amongst the best of them, installing the twenty-year-old at the same echelon as Larry Levan and Frankie Knuckles, sowing the seeds of what would become House music, in the bed that Disco cultivated

One of the places that was at the forefront of this new era in music in the early eighties was Red Zone in Manhattan where Morales soon took up a residency after his Paradise Garage debut. The Red Zone was where he “really made a statement for the new age” according to the DJ history piece. “I think the Red Zone was definitely the turning point on the maps for music changing.” The Red Zone played to dancing audiences with music that was “mostly no vocals or some vocals” according to Morales in Johannsen’s blog with tracks that favoured “the dark side.” “Red Zone was the only place that you were hearing that kind of music,” and this new music was the turning point that would take Disco out of the the glitzy realm of Studio 54 and re-invent it in the grimy underbelly of New York, Chicago and Detroit as House music. 

Red Zone and what Morales established there was instrumental in House music’s history and it went hand in hand with the advent of the 12” format and the remix . It’s in this context that David Morales would make the greatest contributions to the genre. It was the remix where he staked his claim as a pioneer that bridged the gap between popular music and dance floor functionality. In a career spanning nearly forty years as a remixer, he helped establish it as an artform with his interpretations often exceeding the popularity of the originals or in the case of Shabba  Ranks’ Loverboy reworking the track to inform most of what came of the original. His credits include Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson, Jamiroquai, Depeche Mode, Aretha Franklin and the Spice Girls and besides winning the Grammy in 1998 his accolades included the highest paid remixer for his work on Michael Jackson’s scream at that time. “I spent a week in Michael Jackson-land,” he recalls in DJ History. It was´ a remix that he believes, he had to “compromise the most on” through his career and probably played some part in his eventual decision to stop making remixes and essentially “creating hits for other people.”

It all started simply enough in 1984 with a reel to reel “editing my little mash-ups” before he met remixer Bruce Forest, and set out to create a remix of “Instinctual” by Imagination. The Arthur Baker-produced original had been given the Stock Aitken Waterman treatment with something that sounded like a trifling attempt at “Rick Aistely” according to Morales in Finn Johannsen’s blog. Morales didn’t win over Baker and the band either with an out-of-key interpretation of the original, but it sounded “great” to Morales and his resolve paid its just rewards when it became his “first real hit.” In DJ History he remembers “Larry Levan telling me, ‘Great, great job.’ I was like,’Wow, Larry told me I did a good mix.’” That remix laid the foundation for more remixes, leading him onto a path to Def Mix and working with Frankie Knuckles.

Frankie and Morales had been on familiar terms since his time as a dancer at the Loft and had shared the same manager, a studio and musicians for their individual remix requests for some time before forming Def Mix. “That’s why we had the so-called Def Mix sound,” Morales told Johannsen. With requests flooding in from everywhere, both artists occupied their own sphere in music, with Morales luring major labels to his work, remixing songs like “Dreamlover” for a young Mariah Carey. It’s one of the remixes he remains the most proud of today, “because it was a pop record and we did something different with it,” he told House of Frankie in an interview. Mariah Carey came into the studio to re-record her vocals and together with the songstress Morales practically re-wrote the song with an intended purpose for the club and today it marks as one of the highlights in an extensive discography.

Morales and Frankie were Def Mix, with each artist bringing their own unique talents to the music of others. Eventually Morales got “fed up” with other people “running to the bank” on his ideas and with requests that were becoming increasingly “one-dimensional.” He decided “to draw a line” and “stop giving his ideas away.” “ I’d rather make my own music for that,” he told Johannsen “than to keep doing the same.” 

By 1998, after being nominated two times before, he was finally honoured for his contributions to the world of remixing, but by that time Morales had moved on, stopped working on remixes and created  “Needin U.” That record came at a time when “Morales sort of got bored of the studio,” according to an interview with Higher Frequency. “I was asked to go on the road and I ended up constantly spending more time on the road and didn’t have much time in the studio.” 

The studio eventually beckoned again, and off the back of the success of “Needin U,” Morales started releasing more of his own original work, culminating in the 2004 LP, 2 Worlds Collide. Eleven David Morales originals, featuring vocals by Tamra Keenan, Angela Hunte, Lea-Lorién and Vivian Sessoms, set the tone for this next phase in his career, in which creative compromises would not be entertained for the sake of appeasing a major record label. “I financed the whole album myself and I didn’t really care about being on a major,” Morales told Higher Frequency around the time the LP was released. “They don’t care about the creativity and the heart that goes into it.” 

There was a crossover appeal that went to the LP. Staccato horns and strings jut out of the rough orchestration with lively percussive arrangements bulging through the tracks. On the title track, guitars and a snare lifted from an eighties synthwave track almost seem out of place in the rest of the acid House arrangement, but it’s uniquely Morales with a verse chorus structure guiding Keenan’s vocals through different phases of the song. David Morales had “learned a lot about producing vocals” and it would inform much of his work as a solo artist going forward right up to the present and his last release, “Freedom” with Janice Robinson on vocal duties. ”I suppose if you just work within your own entity, you’re just working for yourself,” Morales explained of his work with vocalists in Higher Frequency, ”but when you bring somebody else in, then you somehow have to work it so you get a great piece of work.

While 2 Worlds Collide started a healthy relationship with Ultra Music, Morales also started releasing music on labels like Rekids and Cadenza, and when Def Mix relaunched as a label in 2013, he would return to the franchise with original releases and edits most often under the auspices of the Red Zone project. 

He was with “Def Mix for a very long time” he told House of Frankie. He had been with the institution for over thirty years and had played an integral role in its creation, but it was only by 2018 he was looking for something more from a label, and set up Diridim. “Diridim is just me moving forward on a global scale,” he explained to House of Frankie. While Def Mix and Morales’ previous work was all about classic “House” Diridim is “about making vocal music.” The venture is for “new artists and not just soulful-house music” and Morales is always on the lookout for artists to contribute to the label’s “worldly music” vision of House music. 

Morales’ unique approach to House music is what informs the sound of the label. His earliest musical roots, playing commercial music to the neighbourhood; his extensive work with female vocalists; and the integral role he played in the earliest development of House music, continue to inform Morales’ work. 

We’re further away from 1998 today, than 1998 was from the gestation of House music, and David Morales continues to wave the banner for House music today. He will always be a significant figure in House music history, as one of the pioneers of the genre that brought it into the mainstream, and as a DJ, producer and artist, he’s cemented a legacy intertwined in the legacy of House music.

Chasing the spirit with Erol Alkan

When the London party Trash closed its doors in 2007, it marked the end of an era for DJing and club culture. The eclecticism that founder Erol Alkan and guests like Soulwax (neé 2 many DJs) had brought to the DJ booth, born from the embers of electroclash, had fuelled a new kind of club culture built on a heady fusion of alternative music and fashion as embodied by Trash. The boundaries between music, born from Rock n Roll and it’s estranged electronic club cousin had been erased, and the Monday night party had been instrumental in the era with visceral selections that “joined the dots” between Bowie, Daft Punk, The Stooges, LCD Soundsystem and even Motörhead. 

By 2007 that style of club culture had reached fever pitch, with new DJs and producers adopting the sonic aesthetic, but without care for the detailed subtleties in knowledge their predecessors brought to their skill, it had also become something of cliché. “That kind of musical dilettantism,” Soulwax member and Trash regular David Dewewale told the Guardian in a reflective 2017 piece about Trash “became a terrible sport afterwards.” 

“A lot of people did that back then, but you could tell it wasn’t really in that spirit,” says Erol Alkan over a telephone call. “Not because we thought we should play a rock record, because we’ve got to play an electronic record after that,” but because of something that went “beyond taste.” 

A brief video transmission shows Erol in a room with a wall of records behind him as he settles into our conversation. It’s the first week in January, and he sounds relaxed considering he had played an extensive set at Bugged Out on new year’s day. A few years back he started cutting down on his DJ commitments, from “eight gigs a month,” to playing only every other weekend in order to spend more time with his family, but even in a career spanning thirty years, his ”love” for DJing and making music remains as strong as ever.

*Erol Alkan is at Jaeger this week for Frædag

Today he’s a sought-after DJ, regularly playing around the world, and an in-demand artist who although he releases music reticently, is constantly making music or working on other people’s music as a remixer and producer. When he’s not working on music he’s facilitating new and established artists through his Phantasy Sound label and while he might not play as often as he did perhaps five years ago, Erol Alkan continues to be a significant figure on the international DJ circuit.  

At the height of Trash, Erol would have been playing every week at the famed residency to a packed crowd, which for any Monday night anywhere remains a rare feat. It was a night that truly blurred the lines between genres and thrived in the eclecticism of tastemakers like Erol Alkan. When it disappeared from the scene, nothing quite like it would ever take its place again in London or anywhere else. 

Everything became “slightly segregated again” shortly after according to Deweale in the Guardian, with defined borders appearing between genres and microcosms like minimal Techno and Electro-House finding their own dedicated scenes. Trash was the “perfect celebration of eclectic taste” according to Deweale, and while there are DJs that still perpetuate this  spirit, there’s never been a night or a scene quite like the one that Erol Alkan and his guests cultivated during that time. 

What was it about the time that was so perfect for Trash to exist?

I think it was because of electroclash happening and having such a strong visual identity at that point. It embodied the fashion and the aesthetics of the early eighties where there was a brilliant fusion between electronics and avant garde pop music, like post-Bowie glam rock giving birth to the new wave. 

I suppose finding all these electronic records, inspired from that era, you would find their natural cousins from the rock or alternative scene that worked so well alongside each other. 

It was also a time when that scene was truly international. I think that was as important as the way the records sounded. I was in London and you had people like James Murphy and in New York; Soulwax in Belgium; Gonzales in Berlin; Tiga in Canada, and I suppose Daft Punk were a big part of that in Paris. In the UK I also saw the Chemical Brothers as the precursor to that spirit, and Optimo in Glasgow and Andrew Weatherall… All these people looked at the musical landscape with as much width as possible.

All these people you mention there are the DJs and artists that are very much at the forefront of that spirit today.

And because of that, you can’t really question their appetite for it. I don’t think we view records via genre. I certainly don’t.

It’s that broad view and what he established through his Trash nights that had set Erol Alkan apart from his more orthodox contemporaries at that time and still does today. Alongside DJs like Soulwax, Optimo and Andrew Weatherall, his reputation preceded him wherever he went after Trash. The event and Erol’s sets found audiences that were hungry to hear new music on nights that pushed the boundaries of club culture from the music to the fashion. 

“That gave me the confidence to take risks in everything,” Erol told the Quietus in an interview from 2013. “Break eggs to make omelettes, never be complacent or think ‘I’ve got a career here, I’ve got to keep it going.’” It continued to inform his sets and music even after Trash and cemented a reputation in the booth as a modern day archetype with a drive to explore the absolute limits of his iconoclastic musical tastes.

He had “always enjoyed DJs that brought in other influences in their sets” in an ethos that continues to inform his own DJ sets. That is still “one of the beauties of Djing”, he claims, which is in his view “as expressive as any other form of art… in the right hands.”

While what he and his guests pioneered at Trash may have become a trend shortly after, Erol has never felt the need to perpetuate that particular sound and has always favoured evolution over distinction. “As a DJ you can’t expect to be the same DJ as you were ten years before,” he explains. “What I have to offer people has changed over the last ten years and I’m completely comfortable with that. You have to evolve and change, and not let the past haunt your present.” 

Does that mean you have to give your audience something new in terms of your selections, all the time?

Sometimes I feel that I want to hear these things out as well and I want to stay true to what I’m excited by. I know it can be very easy to have one set and play everywhere, but that will be quite boring for me. 

Do you believe that audiences are open to new and different kinds of music than they were during the electroclash era?

In a nutshell, yes. I couldn’t measure it, but right now, some of the general excitement in the room is when I take a u-turn. Sometimes it can divide a few people, but generally it excites people. What people look for in DJs now is to turn them on to new things. I think the thirst for knowledge and the thirst to hear new sounds are greater than I can remember. 

There are a lot of DJs becoming successful in club culture, who started on the radio, where they are able to present an eclectic sense of what they did. That’s climatized a lot of people that go out to clubs now that want to hear a wider range of music.

It was Erol and his contemporaries that paved the way for these artists to explore that wide range of music. A fervent fan of music from an early age, Erol started DJing when he was still in school and if he wasn’t playing or listening to music it seems he was he was out somewhere experiencing it. “From 1991 through to 2000 I was probably out every night, seeing bands or going to club nights” he told fabric in an interview with their blog

DJing had been a natural outlet as a way of digesting all these early influences and sharing it with his peers, because for Erol; “you want to share music, that’s fundamentally what (DJing) is.” He utilized everything to his disposal to achieve this with an inquisitive drive, regardless of quotidian restrictions like budgetary constraints.   

“When I started Djing I started DJing off vinyl, CD, tape cassette and video cassette because that’s what I had my music on,” he recalls with a hint of excitement in his voice. 

Video cassette, really? 

Yes, because I couldn’t afford to buy music, so I recorded off the television. So no one will ever tell me that my hunger was any less than everybody else. 

 

You mentioned records there, but in the age of USB and CDJ’s where you can basically have your entire record collection at your fingertips, do you still prepare your sets  in the same way you did back then?

Yes, I basically have an idea of what I’m going to play, because I know the venue and I maybe want to stick with a certain sound. I will have a playlist of records, but the order that I play them in is always open to interpretation. 

I try to have an awareness of tempo and intensity of the music, so I don’t assume I’m going to start with a certain record and end with a certain record, but you have a vague map in your head. I try to keep it relatively fresh for myself as well. I don’t like to play the same set from the night before. 

50% of DJing is the records you choose to take out with you, and the other 50% is the records you play when you read the room.

If that’s the case Is there a common thread besides those records between your sets in different contexts?

It just goes back to that spirit I was talking about before. It’s music which hopefully has enough in it to get lost within. Escapism is a big thing that I get from what I do. It’s usually because of the records I feel have a personality that I can believe in, or lose myself in. But I think the real power is in how you thread the records together.

Do you think younger audiences crave a level of intensity from the DJ more than what they did perhaps ten years ago?

From the naughties to 2010, I always felt that I was inside some kind of zeitgeist. The scene that I inhabited was such a global movement in that way. It was always intense. That wasn’t because of youth, but when there is a scene like that it’s inviting to many generations. 

Now I think a lot of DJs who are far more considerate in their selections are getting the attention that they deserve, more so than maybe ten years ago. The inspiration for a lot of new DJs are from an area that is far truer to the spirit of DJing than the business of DJing. 

It’s in that very spirit he established the record label, Phantasy Sound shortly after the end of Trash. “Phantasy to me is an extension of Trash,” he proclaimed in that interview with the Quietus. The label was established at the end of 2007, harnessing that eclecticism of Trash with releases that went from the indie synth pop of Late of Pier; cut through to the immense dance floor constructions of Daniel Avery; and go completely left field with an artist like Babe Terror.

There’s not exactly a philosophy that underpins the label, but rather an extension of the spirit that imbibes everything Erol Alkan touches. “You kind of put out what you love at that point in time, and you just try and make it work,” says Erol about his approach to the artists and records that make it onto the label. While “it’s not easy if you look at it from a commercial point of view” in the era of streaming, Phantasy Sound continues to go from one end to the next, putting out successful dancefloor records like of Daniel Avery’s highly successful Drone Logic alongside more experimental works like Babe Terror’s Ancient M’Ocean. 

Bridging the gap between these two expressive sonic worlds is Erol Alkan, whose own reserved output as a solo artist and as Beyond the Wizard’s Sleeve dot the labels prolific output. His last record Spectrum / Silver Echoes came out in 2018, a record that although at times functional, it also tests the limits of the dance floor, with remixes from Matrixxman to Baris K showcasing the width of possibility in both tracks.

Spectrum immediately struck me as peculiar, because it has the accents on the off beats on the melodic parts and the live drums in the introduction. What was the intention with a record like that and what does it reflect about your own music?

Spectrum was designed for me as a linking record, where I could play disco or psych and then be able to move into Chicago or House and Techno. I’ve always liked fusion records. I felt like if I add a record to the big pile of music that’s made every week, I don’t want to make music that’s functional. I want to make something, and I hate using this word, but something that’s challenging. Whenever I come across a record that’s not basic, I appreciate it. As a DJ, I have a new colour to paint with. When making your own music, you want something unique about it.

Do you think you emphasise that more in music you make today, than when you started out releasing records?

No, and I can answer that question really easily. At a time when I was part of a really noisy scene, like the whole EddBanger, Boys Noize electro sound. I would do something like the Hot Chip, boy from school remix, which is completely the other side of that kind of thing for me. I always felt that even though I was part of something I always wanted to make something that was truthful to me, but also different. I always felt that need to not to do the obvious. 

As far as I understand it, you work on music constantly, but you’re quite reserved about releasing music. How do you know when something is good enough to put out without contributing to the that big pile of records you mentioned earlier?

If I’m not making music under a different name like Beyond the Wizard’s Sleeve or I’m not producing other people, and I get to a point where I want to put tracks out under a different name it kind of just tells me, ‘put me out’. 

I made spectrum in 2014. Black Crow by Beyond the Wizard’s Sleeve that came out in 2016, that was written in 2009. Diagram girl that was made in 2009. A track that if you feel it’s right and it’s you, that can come out whenever. The right music for me is always timeless. For instance, I just found out that they used Chilly Gonzales’ piano version of Waves as the countdown in the centre of Paris. If you can live on beyond yourself, that’s the ultimate. 

Whether he’s working on a record for British shoegaze legends, Ride or mixing down a record for one of the Phantasy Sound artists, there is always a concerted effort to produce something “timeless” in his music. Records like Waves then remain relevant and even though they might have been the product of that zeitgeist, the spirit of them lives on in everything Erol Alkan approaches, from the label, to his records, and most prominently through his work as DJ.

There is no need to be rigging up video cassette players any more and Trash is quite content, resigned to the past, where it’s made an indelible impact on an international music scene. But it’s the spirit of those endeavours that remain the impermeable foundation and the continued appeal of Erol Alkan as an artist, a producer and a DJ.

Delaying the pleasure with KiNK

*Photos by Peter Vulchev

We’re edging into Saturday morning at Jaeger and the incandescent ceiling in the basement is flickering on the pulse House bass groove. A tropical mood is sweeping across the dance floor,  as hues of blue, green and red shine down from artificial heavens, in stark contrast to the brisk December temperatures on the surface. At the front, people in short sleeves are pressed up against the stage, waving hands like tendrils reaching up to the sky in some subconscious effort to reach at the celestial vocals currently projected through the upper frequencies of the sound system.

On stage, Strahil Velchev’s face is beaming. He’s assumed his KiNK alias for the second in a double appearance at Jaeger and the lower level has filled out for the second night. His hand hovers over a drum machine for a moment, waiting for some imperceptible cue from his audience to launch into the next phase of an improvised composition, but it doesn’t quite arrive as he turns suddenly to the Rhodes keyboard at his side to hammer out a faintly familiar theme.

His entire being is entrenched in the moment as his body convulses in time with the thin percussion where a simple snare and hi-hat arrangement are counting out syncopated beats between an elusive 4-4 rhythm. The audience is on the edge of an imaginary precipice, hanging on every note the Bulgarian artist is banging out on the reluctant vintage keyboard as the last formants of a vocal line dissipate into the porous log cabin walls. 

They’re all waiting for the resolve, the pay-off and the absent kick drum to return, but at the next bar, they are denied their moment yet again and the audience collectively holds its breath in an audible “aah” for another phrase. 

It’s a choreographed dance between Velchev and his audience. It’s a a continuous exercise in control, “delaying the pleasure” for the audience through instinct and manipulation and something that he’s mastered as a live performer over the last decade. It’s a fragile, yet symbiotic relationship and relishes in the unexpected directions the artist conducts like a sonic auteur. There’s a clear affinity for the machines and the music that has all but defined his career as an artist and yet it wasn’t quite what the artist had in mind when he started out his career as KiNK. 

“I was originally a DJ, and I really didn’t like the idea of playing live” he told Electronic Beats in a candid piece from 2017. It’s a sentiment he re-iterates when we sit down for a meal in downtown Oslo ahead of his first appearance at Jaeger. It was “definitely not my second choice even,” he says before taking a bite of something crunchy, but he admits it’s been “key to international recognition” and today it’s exactly this context where he’s garnered much of his appeal as KiNK.

It’s been two years since we last saw Velchev as KiNK in Oslo, and buzz around the event has already exceeded our expectations. He has lost some weight since his last visit; his rounded facial features taking on more rigid angular dimension, and an athletic frame is bulging at places through a dark v-neck sweater. He’s “proud” of his recent weight loss and doesn’t mind “showing it off” on his ever-active Instagram profile, with shirtless beach photos dotting his summer timeline.

The Bulgarian producer, DJ and artist is in good spirits. It’s a rare occasion that he’s at an extended stopover, but our conversation precludes a double bill where he will perform as Kirilik for the first night, before assuming the recognisable KiNK alias for the next. He has just finished his soundcheck for Kirilik; a hybrid live set that jumps between pre-recorded samples played from CDJs accompanied by drum machine, and he’s eager to talk about this relatively new Techno project as we find our seats in a predominantly vacant dining room.

“I started the Kirilik project 5 years ago,” explains Velchev before we even sit down. Kirilik was born from an interest in modular synthesisers, but he wasn’t able to find the right application for it, especially in the KiNK universe. “I found that with this instrument I couldn’t have the sounds as the centre of music,” and that led him down a path to a new side-project “which could accommodate the “more repetitive, more experimental” sounds he was coaxing from this new instrument. 

He found the modular system “very delicate and fragile” and “impossible” to utilize in a performance and yet there was a wealth of sound at its core that he wanted to explore. He sampled these sounds to play them back on a trio of CDJs with a drum machine setting out the tempo, laying down the groundwork for a performance project that would eventually become Kirilik. It was conceived as a live project, something “you could only enjoy in the club” initially, but as requests started flooding in for gigs  – “since techno is the new rock music” – he soon realised; “I need to give promoters an instrument” to draw attention to these events. He released two records on Len Faki’s Figure imprint, but like KiNK, Kirilik is anchored in the context of a live project, and unlike KiNK each performance is unique and performances bear absolutely no resemblance to the recorded archives.

Inspired by Jeff Mills’ use of locked grooves on three decks for the legendary Purpose Maker video from the nineties, Velchev employs the same techniques on the newer technology that dominate the clubbing landscape. The results are tactile and impulsive with hints of funky Detroit grooves and melodies snaking their way through pragmatic eurocentric beats. Watching the soundcheck there’s a flurry of hands, manipulating an extensive palette that appears to streak across vast musical languages in bold swathes of textural colour. There’s an instinctive in Velchev’s animated movements like an invisible tether pulling him from one phrase to the next with sounds like a visceral language gestating from inanimate machines. 

“I’ve always liked manipulating sound” remembers Velchev of the formative years that has applied him with this skill. “From a very early age, I loved to play with the radio and the volume” and it’s this expressive exploration that has remained the basis of  his experiments in music today. Although he played the piano as a child, he found he had “no great talent for traditional musical instruments” – even if his movements on our stage piano suggests otherwise. He had always been a “music lover”  and even during Bulgaria’s communist years he “was buying Disco records,” but when the iron curtain fell in 1989, the “borders opened for western culture” and the allure of electronic music spoke directly to Velchev’s inquisitive nature. 

“At that time the format changed from vinyl to cassette,” he recalls with street vendors selling pirated copies of dance music compilations to a new generation of kids like Velchev sampling the decadent delights of western dance floors across eastern Europe for the first time. Although “the club came quite later” and “DJing came (even) later because of budget,” Velchev had already started picking up a rudimentary understanding of DJing and electronic music through playing cassettes back to back. While he has “been doing this for a long time,” his first steps to international recognition only came quite recently in the scope of his biography and it culminates with the first drum machine he acquired a little over ten years ago. It was with that drum machine and some expert manipulation from his agent that the artist set forth on the career path that has made him the endearing artist and performer that he is today.

He credits his “ex-agent Kai Fischer” for pushing him into the live arena, but there’s always been an inherent affinity for this machine music that sets KiNK apart from his contemporaries, and is more than just experience. From a small jumble of wires and boxes he coaxes not only sounds and impulsive rhythms but a sweltering atmosphere that seems to arrive from some peripheral instinct. Even earlier, when he was still just a DJ, he “would abuse the controls on the mixer” in a similar pursuit, and while critics often accused him of “destroying the sound” back then, it has made for an exciting advantage on the stage today. Electronic music instruments remain an unceasing form of inspiration in Velchev’s child-like desires “to make noise” and after a period of development it’s reached a point where he can “actually enjoy it” today.  

As KiNK, records started to emerge on small independent labels around Europe from 2005, but by 2010 he had started making impressive contributions on labels like Josh Wink’s Ovum and Boe Recordings. Records like Aphex KiNK EP and remixes for the likes of Tiga’s Turbo recordings had brought the sounds of KiNK to an audience beyond Bulgaria’s borders, cementing the sound of the artist alongside his ever-glowing reputation as a live performer. KiNK was to become that rare double threat, an artist who was able to bring that energy of dance record to a live show and back again to the record.  

“Playing live really changed the way of making music,” for Velchev. Where before he would “program” his music “in the studio,” he soon “started making music on the stage.” In his 2017 LP Playground (Running Back), the effects are quite prominent. It’s nothing that comes down to a science, or theoretically discernible, but rather something more abstract. “It’s a feeling you can’t programme” in Velchev’s’ words and it goes “against all logic.” He started “performing in the studio” in an effort to “capture that spirit” of the live show he had cultivated as KiNK for the recorded format, developing these two apsects of his music side by side into a singular artistic identity. 

Unpredictable forms that fall between rhythmical integers and melodic themes that float in some no-man’s land between semitones break with the functional traditions of House music. There’s a transience throughout a record like Playground as melodies come together for a moment before evaporating and phases linger unexpectedly and depart just as erratically. From the stomping insistence of “The Russian” to the dogged two-step rhythms of “Peter Plet Plete,” the record avoids the predetermined nature of club music in search of something beyond the superficial. The results intrigue, and while it’s mostly down to performance methods, Velchev admits that this unpredictability in his music is something that inherited in part from the musical traditions of Bulgaria.

“I cannot escape my roots, I cannot escape those rhythms,” explains Velchev through a mouthful of some “spicy” dish. It’s something that stems from Bulgaria’s folk traditions, in a music that is commonly considered gypsy music in the region, and presented in contemporary House music structures through the sounds of KiNK and even Kirilik to some extent. “I never liked our folk music,” the Bulgarian confesses, and in his youth there were even times when he absolutely “hated it.” 

He started hearing traces of this traditional music however in the music coming  in from the western front with groups like Orbital and Future sound of London sampling these familiar pieces in their albums and EPs. It led to an “aha moment” for Velchev in which he realised he could utilise these traditional elements in the same way “a foreigner would.”

“In a sense my music is very based on gypsy music,” he says before explaining, “because I’m always looking for those notes between the semitone” and those beats that don’t fall on regular beats. What might sound confusing to the conditioned ear is natural to Bulgarian folk traditions, because “you cannot count to four” in the same way and there’s very little that could equate to any western music theory. “In Bulgaria we don’t count,“ says Velchev, stressing his point with a smile, “we just dance.” 

Alongside those western influences, producer, DJ, writer and cultural theorist, Stefan Goldmann played a significant role in Velchev’s newfound appreciation for this roots music. “Stefan is the guy who showed me the Bulgarian traditional music (in a new light)” he asserts, “showed me the beauty of gypsy music which I was denying at that time.” It was around that time that he produced his debut LP as KiNK, “Under Destruction.” Goldmann’s Macro label, unsurprisingly facilitated the album, and it’s an LP that Velchev is “most proud of” today. “It was not a big record, but in terms of personal achievement musically, that is a highlight.”

As KiNK, Velchev has largely feigned from the LP format, unless there’s some sense of “identity” to the record and while Playground’s identity derived and was inspired around the tactility of the instruments he used for that record, “Under Destruction” was the “only time” Velchev felt he had a “certain vision” and “something to say.”

It’s a record that falls awkwardly on the western ear. The unusual rhythm structures and atonal (in western standards) character of the music breaks step with the underlying nature of the music. It’s a record still very much directed at the dance floor, with kick drums falling on familiar intervals, but the esoteric expressions that lie beyond its foundations offer something more contemplative for the listener. It’s something of a “paradox” for Velchev too, who has always considered himself a “dancer first” and whose music has always relied on a functional aspect. “Being experimental and innovative is a passion for me, but (all) in the constraints of being a dancer.”

It’s this paradox that has taken Velchev into his latest venture, a record label called, Sofia. Velchev believes the label picks up where Under Destruction left off and it pays specific homage to the Bulgarian capital it is named after. After reconnecting with Konstantine Petrov, “an old friend” who had played a hand in KiNK’s early development and had shown him “how to make music in the nineties,” Velchev and Petrov created the label as an outlet for the sounds of the city. “We’re not praising Sofia” he says poignantly, but “Sofia is the city that influenced us more with a lot of negative and a lot of  positive aspects. We are what we are and our music is what it is because we lived and met in the city.” 

The first release on the label came via KiNK, with the aptly titled “Home,” and in that record we find similarities to KiNK’s music from “Under Destruction” as tracks play on similar rhythmic and melodic themes, distilled down from traditional music, with titles like The Clock and The Grid redefining the concepts contained in their titles for western ears. Accompanying the release and future releases from a small, but dedicated community of artists, are a series of photos – most of which taken on phone – from Bulgarian DJ legend DJ Valentine. Alongside the music it consolidates a label that for the first time will distill some of that Bulgarian traditions into a contemporary platform.

Although Velchev had been toying with the idea of a label for the last four years it was only “with time, a certain idea crystalized” where there could be “a musical identity in the first record.” Home inaugurates this identity with KiNK’s now familiar Bulgarian intuitions where “the rhythm is out of the standard grid and the tonality is out of the standard scale” and the music takes on a very unique character as a result, which some might even consider experimental. “Some people would say it’s experimental,” agrees Velchev, “but for me it’s just the pure essence of KiNK.”

It’s hard to define that essence, because it’s an amalgam of extraneous factors, funneled down into this music. It’s a combination of his precocious love of machines and  noise; a maturing appreciation for the folk traditions of his country; a reluctant live performer; and an enigmatic interpretation of House and Techno music made by Black Americans. KiNK and Kirilik coalesces around all these different aspects, and there is no other artist quite like him, because of these compounding elements. Even at a time when DJ culture and electronic music have become quite interchangeable, Velchev is still able to stand out and deliver something truly unique to the landscape, and especially now with this latest endeavour Sofia.

“Maybe I’ve never brought anything brand new to the scene,” he considers, “but what I like about my approach to making music is that I’m more open to trying things and going out of my comfort zone.“ 

Later that night as he debuts the Kirilik project to a Norwegian audience, the dance floor is in agreement, raising their hands  in a predominant affirmation as we draw back the curtains on our guest. A coy smile streaks over Velchev’s face as he introduces the first strands of an archived modular synthesiser from one of the CDJs. The room is tenter hooks, people surging calmly towards the stage, and then suddenly without warning; a resolve and a bass-heavy kick-drum bursts into life with an approving “whoop” from the crowd.  

Beyond another new dawn with Ost & Kjex

Ost & Kjex were still riding high on the success of their critically acclaimed and celebrated 2010 album, Cajun Lunch when they delivered their next LP to the people at the Diynamic label around 2014. “With Cajun Lunch we established a sound for ourselves” remembers Petter Haavik, the Kjex in Ost & Kjex, sitting on the edge of his seat at Gamla bar in Oslo during our interview. They had just won the Spellemann award (Norway’s equivalent of the grammys) for Cajun Lunch and had started exporting their distinctive brand of music beyond Norway’s borders as they entered into making Freedom Wig. Popular records for the likes of Crosstown Rebels, an equally successful debut LP, and enjoying the esteemed company of artists like Solomun while playing places like Panorama Bar, had delivered Ost & Kjex into some of the most prominent musical circles in Europe and they felt comfortable and confident in their music when they sat down with the label to hand in their last full-length creation to the label.

“We were very happy,” says Petter through a smile behind a growing 5 o’clock shadow, “and we made a finished album, but then the label said it’s too much the same of your old style.” The label told Ost & Kjex to go back to the drawing board and re-approach the sound of the LP. “We had to kill your babies a little bit,” says Tore Gjedrem (aka Ost) picking up on the sentence that Petter left hanging in mid-air. It was “a rough meeting” remembers Petter with Tore simulating the figurative slap across the face they received from Stimming and co at Diynamic, but as they had to “re-think” the sound of the LP, they not only revitalised the sound of Ost & Kjex with the new record, but also came to something of a new chapter in their career and music. Stripping the record back to little more than a vocal and some key melodic hooks, they made “it rougher and harder,” with Stimming lending a “structured” hand in the final arrangement as Freedom Wig came to be.  

Armed with some new beats, while retaining that signature blend of blues and R&B in their electronic production processes, Freedom Wig favoured a more organic palette, with analogue synths, live instruments and voices contrasting neoprene House rhythms. Fusing disparate elements from the club dance floor while retaining their unique blend of black american music traditions, Ost & Kjex had all but completely severed ties with Cajun Lunch, with Freedom Wig ushering in yet another new era for the duo. ”Afterwards I was a lot more relaxed about my own material and letting things go,” admits Tore as he reclines in his chair, his voice, and his ageless face retreating into the shadows of a dark corner at Gamla bar.

With Freedom Wig done and after a much-needed rest, they turned their attention to the shorter format again and after releasing a few EPs around the LP they returned to Crosstown Rebelsin 2019 with a churning dance floor interpretation of Tina Turner’s Private Dancer with WHALESHARKATTACKS on vocals.

That track marked yet another shift for the sound of duo, focussing on the more “tracky” aspects of House music . “After the breakdown with album,” explains Petter they reconciled they need to “just listen to the Germans,” and  “keep it simpler and more tracky” and to that end they’ve got a few EPs lined up in 2020, including enough material for a whole EP with WHALESHARKATTACKS. They “knew how to rebuild” however because, it’s not the first time in the history of Petter and Tore’s creative relationship that they’ve felt the need to evolve. 

*Ost & Kjex play live our annual Frædag x DJ marathon 

Forged in metal

Petter and Tore grew up in Kolbotn, where they met at high school. Petter played guitar and Tore played bass and sung and the pair found they immediately “had something going” as they started making music together. What they were making in the beginning however was a far cry from the stuff they would be making later on as Ost & Kjex. Closer to a piercing scream than a cry, Death Metal was their calling card initially and bands like Napalm Death inspired a very fertile scene in the region with artists like Darkthrone and Petter and Tore’s Beyond Dawn rising to prominence through the emerging sound of Death Metal at the time.  

Beyond Dawn started out as a harsh, bare bones Metal band in the early nineties, but by the time of their grand finale, Frysh their sound had dramatically shifted, completely devoid of the washy guitars and punishing drums of their earliest releases as synthesisers, drum machines and sequencers had fully infiltrated their work. That last album, was almost “running parallel to the Ost & Kjex project” recalls Tore, but it wasn’t a mere sudden shift from one extreme to the other, but rather a gradual evolution as electronic music rose in popularity.

Tore and Petter had been following the development of electronic music closely through the Warp label and acts like Orbital, but a true epiphany moment came when they saw Surgeon in Liverpool on an impromptu whim. “That was a legendary evening” recalls Petter with a knowing smile. Petter was living in Liverpool at the time “going to school so we went there to record an album with Beyond Dawn,” continues Tore. They had a few nights out and one particular night stayed with them long after, even though the heady effects had long dissipated. Ever since, “Surgeon was also a big influence” on Tore and Petter.

Metal had also been necromancing with the electronic dark arts with key figures like Mick Harris (Napalm Death and Scorn) revolutionising the stilted sounds through electronic means. Beyond Dawn adapted with the era, but as the drummer’s role became infinitesimal, overshadowed by the rhythm machines and guitars constituted little more than “one note”  sampled to infinity “the other guys fell off a bit” according to Tore and from Beyond the Dawn rose a new dawn with Ost & Kjex.  

 

Playful  Transmissions

They had known they “had something by the first record” , the rather wordy “some, but not all  Cheese comes from the moon.” That record, released on Planet Noise in 2004 had put Ost & Kjex on the map in Norway, but it was when they “sent the first tracks to Crosstown Rebels and they called back” they had something special according to Petter. “When Crosstown Rebels called up, we knew the outside world was listening” reiterates Tore and by the time of Cajun Lunch their sound was truly established. 

They moved back to Kolbotn around that time for what Tore refers to as “family business” and although he believes the return “definitely” affected the sound of the future records they produced, Ost & Kjex have always been an island onto their own. While Oslo was establishing the sound of what would later become space disco through key figures like Lindstrøm and Prins Thomas, Tore and Petter never really felt any allegiances to what those artists were doing in the capital, even though they themselves were living in the capital at that time. “We were certainly not a part of that Oslo new disco scene,” impresses Tore. “We were more House than Disco, even though we love that stuff.” They felt more inclined to the “sound design” efforts coming out of Europe than the “groove approach” of Disco coming out of America. “We were more fans of Kompakt” adds Petter in a succinct summary.

But it wasn’t merely their sonic approach that set Ost & Kjex apart from their “big city” counterparts, but also their approach to songwriting. Where structure usually followed function in dance music, Ost & Kjex have always favoured form in music that has always drawn close parallels to pop music standards. Verse-chorus arrangements have followed their work consistently, with modulating melodic themes and developing harmonies not that uncommon in their work. It’s a style that particularly thrives in the album format especially on tracks like “The Baker’s Daughter” from Freedom Wig, but where I see something positive and unique, Petter is not so sure.  

“That’s our big problem” he says through a breathy laugh. “It must be in our genes.” It’s something perhaps ingrained in their DNA from the time of working in a more traditional band together, and I’m surprised to find that, for the most part, their goal is to make something more “tracky.” “We’ve tried for twenty years,” says Tore sniggering on the pulse of Petter’s laughter. It’s a perpetual need to develop, where a hook is only as good as the sum of the rest of the track. “You write it as you go,” says Tore of their creative process, “ producing it and programming it” to a point where the songs “live on their own.” “A lot of people don’t know this”  says Tore pulling in closer to the table, but “a lot of our songs are five years in the making.” 

They always strive for some sort of narrative with Tore’s vocals adding some “minimal textural compositions that goes with the music.” Lyrics that often contain some “strong liberal value” are presented in short lyrical vignettes as “small stories with a sense of black humour.” It exposes an inherent playfulness in the Ost  & Kjex sound that might have been missed if it had not been for the vocals. Playing off the music and informing it at the same time there’s a substantial weight behind these tracks, that emphasises the element of fun that’s transmitted on the dancing pulses of this machine music.

In perpetual motion to the next thing

“There is often a sense of joy to it” says Tore nonchalantly. That sense of Joy is only ever as strong as the sense exploration in their music however. In 2017, Ost & Kjex showed the extent of their imagination, as they delivered a concert while cooking a five-course meal out of Dattera til Hagen’s kitchen. Playful, and intriguing, coming together like a sonic happening orchestrated at a National Lampoon christmas dinner. It’s the “privilege of doing electronic music” according to Petter, an unbridled enthusiasm to explore the furthest reaches of their creativity, which they’ve always done in the established context of the Ost & Kjex sound. ”You don’t want to disappoint the fans,” explains Petter and while really experimental groups like Matmos and Matthew Herbert have also influenced their work, they’ve always managed to hone this in some perpetual pursuit of the next thing, without completely severing the ties to the roots of their sound and staying true to their fans. 

It’s why a record like Freedom Wig, although they had re-approach the sound of the record, maintains the essence of Ost & Kjex. Their rude-awakening at Diynamic has only strengthened their resolve as they’ve started entertaining “some high-flying thoughts about a concept album” for their next big project. In the meantime they are concentrating on a string of EPs coming out in 2020 and they re-launching their Snick Snack label. The label which had a brief stint in 2007, right before the massive record distribution crash of 2008, returned in 2019 with an Ost & Kjex collaborative EP, Olympia. Bugge Wesseltoft, Hanne Kolstø and Anne Lise Frøkedal joined the Norwegian tastemakers for the folksy electronica of the title track accompanied by the charming “Lucky Lips”. “She’s a motherfucker on Techno synth” exclaims Tore about Kolstø who often  joins them on stage in the past as part of the Ost & Kjex live band alongside WHALESHARKATTACKS. 

While they talk enthusiastically about their live show, Tore is quite excited about the next release from Snick Snack. It’s an EP of  “really nice party tunes” from close friends Trulz & Robin in an effort that Tore hopes will bring “some more recognition” to these musical “pioneers”. Snick & Snack will also reissue Trulz & Robin’s two LPs, Mechanized World and Kaosmatisk in this spirit of a label that the pair have established as an “opportunity to shed some light on the Norwegian scene.” At the same time it’s “a means to take control of your own music” for Tore. 

Whether that’s a result of their experiences with Freedom Wig or just the next phase of a perpetual evolution that has followed them through  their work, remains unclear, but whatever it is, it looks like 2020 is going to be an intriguing year for Ost & Kjex.

The brave ones with Maze & Masters

As club culture and -music continues to pick up momentum and gain popularity, it has exposed more of the countercultural origins of the scene and the music than ever before. Bolstered by the access of information at our fingertips and an increasing awareness of the original social inequalities that informed this culture, we’ve entered an enlightened age for the scene. 

Openly queer and transgender figures like Eris Drew and Octa Octa have become househould names, topping DJ charts at the end of 2019, while dance floors and clubs have started affecting serious policy changes to ensure all gendered nominations are welcome. It’s a very different situation to the scene that birthed club culture. Clandestine locations playing rhythmic music in the dead of night for young black and latino gay men and women looking for some slight escape from the contant persecution waiting outside the door, were dependent on secerecy to keep the wolves from the door. 

Today the landscape has not only changed, but as social awareness keeps growing, club culture is always going to be one liberal step ahead, and while the rest of the world is still coming to terms with these issues, gender barriers on the dance floor have been disolving more than ever before, especially in what were usually heteronormative mainsteram clubs. 

Leading the charge in this field is the event and party set  He.She.They, an organisation that ”is about trying to create spaces of inclusion and diversity where men, women, trans, non binary and agendered people can all feel welcome.” according to its founders Steven Braines and Sophia Kearney. Braines and Kearney have taken this a step further even, focussing on taking “over places that are traditionally more heteronormative crowd wise and queer them up.”

Events at leading, predominantly clubbing institutions like Pacha, Fabric, Ministry of Sound and Watergate, have been “about different types of people being welcomed in to spaces they otherwise are not often welcomed in,” according to Braines. “By making the performers/hosts queer, non-binary, trans for example and having more female DJs, trans, non binary DJs and people of colour behind the decks,” he elucidates over an email exchange “queer people and indeed intersections of all of them in a normally straight space it shows people that they are welcome.”

Braines and Kearney both work within the music industry’s upper echelons as agents for the likes of Tale of Us, Magda and Maya Jane Coles, which has put them “in a bit of a lucky position that venues have trusted us to come in and let us take over their spaces and done something weird and wonderful with them.“ Braines, a queer man and Kearny, a straight woman “we wanted to create dance music spaces where it felt comfortable for us and our friends.” and started throwing parties 2 years ago, with their singular vision to great success.

It’s not that we are queer night” stresses Braines “we just platform and prioritise people who deviate from the straight, white, male norm that dance culture has become even though it was originated musically from black, Latin and queer communities!” They do this with a cavalcade of DJs and performance artists in each location, picking some from their extensive roster, including the de facto He.She.They residents, Maze & Masters. 

Verity Mayes and Bryony Masters have been an integral part of the He.She.They “family” since its inception as the personification of the concept which Steven and Sophia says is “all about talented people who are nice people… the core of a great party. ” . The DJ duo have forged a unique sound in the booth together between playing to pure corporeal delights in dark and sweaty rooms. With sets that thrive on the instinctive pulses of the dance floor, Maze & Masters’ build their mixes from the beats up, focusing on the functional aspects of club music as stark elements rise from the deep. Warm rhodes chords and disembodied vocal snippets reach out intermittently between piercing beats ushered in on a primordial pulse.

They’ve transposed this sound from the DJ booth to the studio in original tracks and remixes for best part of the last decade, but they remain DJs at their core. While they’re sure to be making some future contributions to the upcoming He.She.They label – which Braines can confirm has signed Louisahhh as their first artist and whose “album comes out next year” – they plot their musical journeys largely through a pair of decks. It’s in that context that we receive Maze and Masters next week together with Kittin and Louisahhh as the He.She.They x Romjulsfestivalen event.

They’ll be playing upstairs after Deadswan and Vibekke Bruff, and with the event looming closer, we reached out to Verity  via email to find out more about Maze & Masters and their residency at He.She.They. 

How did you two meet?

We met in our hometown, Brighton, in the south of England. We crossed paths on many a dance floor and eventually ran away together to the big smoke. Brighton always has and always will have a special place in our hearts and having He.She.They. come to host the Brighton Pride Dance Top was a moment we will never forget.

Was club music a constant growing up and what were some of your earliest influences that set you on your individual paths as DJs?

Verity: My dad is a priest so it was more monks chanting for me – I’m sure that’s been an influence that comes out at some point of the morning, but it was discovering house music that had the biggest impact, although we play all kinds of underground journeys, 80s/90s original house and the message it originally brought always shines through.

Bryony: I was a little indie kid until I ended up underage in a crazy club night called Slinky’s which was in Bournemouth. It played mental hard house and jungle, and it was the first real clubbing experience I’d had and one I’ll never forget. I was obsessed with clubbing culture from that point onwards. Moving to Brighton set me onto the house scene, the early 2000s were a pinnacle time for that genre and I was totally swept up in the wave – there were some epic local DJ’s holding their own at that time and seeing them play every weekend set off the spark in me to pursue a career in DJing.

Where did your musical tastes converge and what inspired you to start DJing together at first?

We always had a similar vibe, even when we were playing solo gigs and people would often comment on that back in the day. We’d buzz off sending each other music, and eventually someone booked us our first set together at a terrace party in Brighton, the Sunday day parties were legendary back then. When we moved to London we cut our teeth playing an after-hours party in a tiny terrace room of Area in South London, where we really started to define the ‘M&M’ sound. Being in the smallest room in the club gave us the freedom to really experiment with what that was, taking people on a journey is something we’ve both always loved to do.

Did you instantly find a rapport and how did your musical tastes develop further as you started Djing more together?

When we joined forces we just had and still have the best time playing together and we completely inspire each other to this day. We’re best mates, we have a lot of fun playing together and we think that communicates to the clubbers, it always feels like a private party when we play together. We maintain our own sound and energy through our sets which create our eclectic style, where they meet is a special authentic place.

 

There have been some remixes, but I assume that DJing is a priority, or are there some plans to make a stride into production in the future?

We are originally DJs at heart but have also been teaching ourselves to produce, which can be challenging with two very hectic schedules. 2020 is the year for M&M productions – so watch this space!

What is it about DJing that keeps you intrigued and devoted to that kind of music?

It is always the music, finding and playing new music is an obsession for both of us, but it’s also the shared connection and energy of a dancefloor which is like nothing else in the world.  Music is definitely a home for us and our family is the community of people it organically brings together, sometimes for just one night, and sometimes for life. 

Your sets are quite versatile, but for me there’s a kind of deep approach that ties a red thread through the mixes I’ve heard. What usually draws both of you to a track?

We started playing regularly together in after-hours clubs, so deep house is part of our roots. The joy of being able to take people somewhere with the subtleties of that sound means it’s a genre we will always respect. It’s all about the energy of a track, for us it has to have a groove or something unusual that hooks you in. If it doesn’t make you move, it shouldn’t make your set.

And how might you move the other into a different direction through the mix?

We love a lot of different types of house and techno and tend to just read the crowd, so we don’t often know how a set will end up! There isn’t too much conscious thought involved, we get inspired by the music that the other plays. 

You’ve found a home in the queer/polysexual clubbing community, not just at He.She.They, but also Little Gay Brother. What was your introduction to this world and what attracted you to the scene as DJs?

Being queer ourselves, the community has always been a big part of our lives. We’ve always been drawn to that insatiable energy of a wild queer party, there’s really nothing that compares to it to be honest. It’s really important to us that we can represent us and our queer family, and being able to spread the message of equality and inclusivity on a global scale through music is an honour, we are very thankful to He.She.They. and our other residency Little Gay Brother for giving us the opportunities to do so.

How did you end up being residents at He.She.They?

We have always hugely respected The Weird and The Wonderful and our friendship developed both in London’s and in various tents and fields at Secret Garden Party; then to Ibiza where we shared an office. We were touched to be asked to part of the journey from the beginning and that Sophia and Steven saw a resonance in our ethos and liked what we do, it’s been incredible to see the message spread worldwide. Being able to play and see the positive reaction to the party at such respected venues as Ministry & Fabric London, Watergate Berlin and Pacha Ibiza has been emotional, we feel very much part of the team.

And what’s the driving ideology behind the concept and how did it resonate with what you were doing as DJs?

Living in the queer community, activism is part of your life, everyone has had to fight for something whether its the courage to come out, or support brave friends on their personal journeys. He.She.They’s ideology totally resonates with this, and therefore with who we are as people. 

We have been lucky enough to exist both within the queer scene and also the wider electronic music scene. You often find that the two worlds didn’t really converge, and they SHOULD, because there is some incredible talent not being given the chance to live their potential! Steven & Sophia took He.She.They. to the world to give everyone a shared opportunity and the world fucking loved it, which only looks to increase and spread the message further in 2020.

How do your sets at He.She.They differ from the stuff you usually play and are there any tracks that you would consider He.She.They anthems?

There’s a mad kind of energy, a fierceness, that comes through in us both when preparing for He.She.They. sets; which comes from a sense of freedom, there isn’t a mould you have to fit into which is very refreshing. He.She.They. celebrates experimentation and pushing boundaries. 

Here’s a track that sticks out to us both from our first HST gig, dubspeeka & Visionz “Floorshow” (Bodyjack’s DEXT VIP).

It’s a travelling event series, so the audiences must differ between parties. How do you guys accommodate these differences in terms of your sets and the party?

One of the uniting threads that we have found throughout every HST party is that everyone really just wants to be free to party and are really open-minded to how that may occur! It’s like everyone has found a place to exist as themselves whether they knew they needed that or not, so although there is a focus on freedom of expression, it’s also kind of about that not mattering, as the crowd is super diverse but ultimately all just there to dance no matter who you are or what you play. 

What are your expectations for the upcoming event at Jaeger?

Well, Louisahhh and Miss Kittin are playing, so we’re expecting Oslos foundations to be shaken to their very core! We’re expecting the unexpected, as what comes out when people are given the space to express is a very weird and wonderful thing! But above all, quality, love, respect, and a lot of stomping.

We look forward to having you here, Verity and Bryony. 

 

Redefining Folkemusikk with Lakeshouse

Surveying the spatial outskirts of Norwegian Disco in a potent fusion excavating elements from balearic beat to Jazz, Lakeshouse arrived on Paper Recordings  at the beginning of this year with the Firkanta EP. The four-piece from Norway, consisting of Espen, Bjørnar, Endre and Andreas had been making music together or independently since their youth in one form or another. They first came together under the BOKA pseudonym with a happy infusion of Pop and Disco catering to the more ebullient corners of the dance floor on infectious melodies and effervescent grooves. 

They eventually left the BOKA project to one side only to re-form as Lakeshouse, honing their sound further to the club with Firkanta, establishing the Lakeshouse sound in no uncertain terms with a record DJ Mag called “great…bonkers Norwegian language garage.” In November this year they followed it up with the equally “strong” Folkemusikk, refining and cementing the Lakeshouse concept with a record that ties something of a conceptual thread between the tracks. 

There’s a strong organic element to Folkemusikk coming together under the shadow of the mountain that adorns the cover. From the airy vocals of “Lov” to the staccato keys of “Papaya” it relays that human connection between the dance floor and this largely machine-made music. From the downtempo “Lov” to the energetic “Folkemusikk,” encouraging beat and bass arrangements underpin these tracks, which even under the slower tempos of “Lov” find an empathetic synchronicity with the listener. Lyrics ponder themes of love and culture through the abstract gaze of an artist’s viewfinder, with the music providing the visceral counterpoint. 

They’ll be bringing the record and a few others along to the official launch of Folkemusikk at Jaeger, so we shot over a few questions over to band to ask about the music, the story behind the cover, the origins of the band and their upcoming DJset at Jaeger.

How did you guys meet and what encouraged you to start a band together? 

The four of us met very young, some of us as early as kindergarten in Nordfjordeid, Sogn og Fjordane. It’s a small, picturesque place. We listened to weird shit and weren’t into sports, so that comes with its social consequences in a place like that. Me and Bjørnar started messing around in Fruity Loops and Reason when we were around 12, and then in high school we all came together for various projects. There was a black metal band, a cosmic disco group, a prog rock band, an electro-jam band, but none of them very serious. When we moved to Bergen in our early 20s we founded BOKA and started being a bit more serious about this music thing. 

What is the connection between this project and BOKA and how has it evolved or diverged into Lakeshouse? 

The connection is we’re basically the same members as BOKA, but we needed to do something different and we needed to do something that would allow us to work together despite living in different cities now, ever since Espen moved to Malmö. We sort of realised that we’ve gotten much better at club music and could do more. 

Where do your individual musical influences crossover and how did that inform what you wanted to do with Lakeshouse? 

Lakeshouse is our attempt at simplicity, even though compared to most underground club producers we probably sound pretty crazy. Three of us are musical omnivores with a penchant for dance music, while Andreas is the same but with a penchant for jazz. We rarely do anything by the book and want to create our own definitions, not be defined. Lakeshouse is us balancing our need to experiment with our love for dance music. 

What’s the story behind the name and why the possessive form “lake’s”? 

“Lakehouse” would be a pretty boring name, don’t you agree? :P But in all seriousness, it actually came from a cosmic disco track Bjørnar did called “Live at Lake’s House”. He had this idea of a place the track was recorded live, since it sounded kinda live-ish, like it could be a Lakeshouse-set at some mystery club. Where is this place, and who the hell is this Lake-guy? So we took that and made it Lakeshouse. 

Now that Espen lives in Malmö and you live in Oslo, how did the music come together with the band spread out like that? 

Well, we miss him a lot! Music-wise there’s a lot of skype-meetings, messenger chats, phone conversations, sending projects back and forth and such. We try to keep each other involved as much as possible. Sometimes we just make stuff on our own, and give each other feedback and maybe improvise something over it. The only thing that has become a struggle is anything live-related, since we can’t rehearse together. 

How do you divide the duties between the band? 

Generally, Espen, Bjørnar and Endre do the production and songwriting, and then Andreas might come along and lay down some trombone. Since he’s much more a jazzhead than a clubber he’ll usually have some opinions on the chords or arrangements that help make things more musical. And for the most part Endre does the final mix, with a lot of help from the other guys. Since Bjørnar is also a visual artist he does all of the graphics, videos etc. We do everything except the mastering. We like to keep it all inside the BOKA Recordings crew. 

Folkemusikk is your second EP for Paper Recordings. How did you arrive on the UK label and how has the label and its discography informed what you do if at all? 

In 2016 we released a track called “Brødrene Hermanos” as BOKA. It was a pretty cosmic affair, and somehow Paper got wind of it and asked us if they could put it on their Trash The Wax series. They dug it and we felt like they understood us better than other labels we’d dealt with before. This was right around the time we were becoming clubbier anyway, so when we had Firkanta EP ready they were the first people we contacted. 

Ben Davis has always been a huge supporter of the Norwegian music scene, but he’s also been a very prominent figure in Manchester. What kind of affinity is there between these two scenes from Lakeshouse’s experience? 

We grew up in the 90s with Faithless, Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers on Topp 20. UK music has been hugely important to us and Norway in general. Manchester has been a staple club-town since the 80s, but the overall willingness to push things forward seems like a British tradition overall. Paper is one of the many labels that don’t mind taking risks if they like the music. We recently read an interview with Ben where he joked about not being able to resist releasing a record of a guy in South Africa with 30 followers on Soundcloud! And Paper made an entire documentary on the nordic disco scene. It seems the UK influence is paying off for both parties. 

Getting onto Folkemusikk. Tell me how that EP came together and what were some of the ideas that informed it. What were some of your inspirations (in music and beyond) for the sounds of the record? 

We started out with a couple tracks that felt like they belonged together. ‘NRK’ and ‘Folkemusikk’ both have a nostalgic and surreal vibe to them. They made us think of the old video archive of the Norwegian broadcasting corporation, which is tasked with documenting Norway’s culture and history. The lyrics for ‘Folkemusikk’ go really well with that theme, and the vocal sample on ‘NRK’ sounds like a mangled radio jingle. Then the rest kind of just fell into place. Varied, but with a conceptual backdrop. 

The Lakeshouse sound that you established on Firkanta is still prevalent, but there seems to be something slightly more organic, at times a little psychedelic about this record. How did you approach this record any differently than the last? 

Well, ‘Firkanta’ is called Firkanta for a reason. On Firkanta we focused on presenting different sides to our sound, like the proto-Lindstrøm space disco of the title track, or the garage-ish swing of Ambulanse. Folkemusikk is more conceptual. If one track had ambient elements then the other tracks needed some too. All the tiny details, the textural, almost tactile sounds, they’re all meant to match the feeling or the message. NRK sounds a bit like the fever dream of a child listening to the radio. Papaya is very Ibiza and beachy, while Folkemusikk is urban pitted against folk music and a Hardanger-fiddle. There’s even a lonely owl and a ticking clock on Lov. 

How did the writing process work on this record and where did the inspiration for the lyrics come from? 

The title track is a nod to the history of dance music. Dance music is ancient, and some of it we’ve arbitrarily labeled “folk music”. It seems modern club music is really just an extension of a very old idea. The chorus is a chant; “this is folk music”, sung in a dialect that has traditional connotations. It also kind of sounds like “this is fuck music”, which isn’t too far off if you think about it. In the verse a guy is sad that someone told him “music died a hundred years ago today”, like there’s a specific date someone decided music went wrong. It didn’t! It just changed. 

Lov was of course inspired by a breakup. It’s during a break up you might wonder why we all keep trying when it usually ends with heartbreak. The title is both the Norwegian word for ‘allowed’ and ‘law’, almost like the song is taking the piss out of the concept of love. And there’s no linear story, more an abstraction of the feelings around it. We really love Air and the way they used a looped, robotic voice on ‘Run’, so we tried to mimic that on this track, underlining the abstract and binary lyrics. “One/Two, me/you”. Maybe it’s a story of a robot programmed to love, running the same software over and over? In a way it’s an existential song more than a love ballad. 

There’s something about the mountain on the cover, Endre told me. What is it about that image in the artwork that’s so significant about this record and how did it inform the music

Having grown up surrounded by nature we’re still marked by it. There’s something mysterious and profound about mountains. Now that we live in Oslo we kind of have to make do with the nature we have here, which is not as spectacular but still nice. We spend more time in the woods than in the club. Back in Nordfjordeid we had many secret spots we’d go to just to be alone as friends, one of them was by a lake that few people knew about. It’s kinda funny cos the picture used for the cover was actually taken on a trip Bjørnar had to Albania, but it still looks as majestic and “nasjonalromantisk” as a Norwegian painting from the 1800s. There’s even a troll-like face in the rocks. Both the videos for Nrk and Lov were partly filmed by a lake outside Oslo. 

And now for the plug… it’s the official Oslo release of the record; what is happening on the night to celebrate the record? 

Before we officially start DJing we’ll have a little mingling sesh, listen to the record in full and also show the two videos Bjørnar made. We also have a bunch of T-shirts from Firkanta EP that we’ll be selling. And anyone with a healthy interest in music should get down to our DJ set later, cos it will be epic and eclectic! 

I thought you might be tempted to play live. Why the DJ set? 

Like we talked about it’s hard to get live sets going when we’re spread out. We’ve barely all been in the same room for most of the process of this EP. We’ve also been wanting to do more DJing in general, so for that purpose this is a step in that direction. 

And how do you hope to relay the sound of the record through the set? 

Of course we’ll play as many Lakeshouse tracks as we can muster, including our remixes and other goodies, but it’s also just something that will happen organically through the selection. We want people to dance, but we also like championing wilder records, blending party vibes with something personal, kind of like how our music sounds. 

That’s all the questions, but is there anything you’d like to add? 

Nothing other than a big thank you to both Olanskii for booking us to Jæger, and to you for asking us such great questions! 

The cut with Filter Musikk

We’re on the precipice of a new decade and we’ve fallen into archetypal tropes where Techno, House et al is currently being watered-down to revisionist versions of itself in a digital realm. Distilled from the eccentricities of their ancestral roots, we’re swimming in the languid miasma of ubiquity entrenched in formulaic chasms. Feedback loops, droning along in consistent noise, saturate dance floors in monotonous white noise, while DJ faces smile at you from the incandescent glow of a handheld LCD screen. 

We’re living in a virtual reality, a dance floor locked in an eternal struggle to free itself from the banality of the outside world, carried on the invisible wings of 4G bandwidth. Our anecdote? A complete hedonistic escape from the trivialities of everyday life. It lies beyond a glass door at an end of Skippergta and it’s called Filter Musikk. 

Unencumbered by overzealous hype and free from the tyrannical insistence of social media, it’s here where music lives on in objective terms with the listener. Grooves cut into plastic discs, sheathed in cardboard cloaks that relay only the most necessary vignettes of information, line shelves and boxes; impossible hierarchies immediately subverted in the mere flick of a finger. 

Carefully curated by proprietor and Oslo DJ icon, Roland Lifjell, the selections that grace the hallowed shelves, stand out above the din with glorious indifference in a format that time forgot. Ironically it’s in these arcane discs that we’ve found the only way forward into the next decade, the last true avant garde in a scene slowly being consumed by conservative trends being dictated by big business and uninformed social opinions determined by mystical algorithms. 

This is where we’ll make our stand in our perpetual drive to explore new musical worlds and unearth future classics overlooked in their time, but still striving to soundtrack an improbable future. Stepping into the next decade, these are the records and this is the place that lies beyond the schism of the mundane and we’ll step boldly beyond its threshold yet again in the pursuit of the new, enticing and the innovative. This is the Cut with Filter Musikk. 

*The cut with Filter Musikk goes live tonight aJaeger as a vinyl messe and club concept.

 

Adlas – Currents (Answer Code Request / ACR505) – 12″

It appears like a forgotten memory from the beginning of the year, when 2019 was still in its infancy. Seems like it was only yesterday we were singing Adlas’ praises on his debut for Answer Code Request. The mysterious artist had immediately caught our attention, pursuing a distinctive brand of Techno, freed from the shackles of the consistent beat of a DJ tool. We thought it could have been a mere isolated event, a fleeting artistic flourish from some established artist, operating under a pseudonym. That was March however and this month Adlas has solidified his sound in 2019 with a sophomore effort “Currents,” confirming his allegiances to Answer Code Request in the process.

Adlas’ music continues to thrive in a stark minimalist landscape, with rhythms emboldened by bass carving deep trenches through incandescent atmospheres, sparkling with the erratic chirps and clattering of biomechanical sonic insects hovering at the fringes of the otherworldly soundscape. Adlas finds some elusive bridge between striking experimentalism and dance floor functionality on this record. Using the unwavering foundations of beat-driven dance music, Adlas saves an experimental component for the accompanying textures, with raspy metallic creations and irreverent rhythmic constructions occupying the fringes of his music.

It’s in the skipping rhythmic arrangements that Adlas’ music immediately appeals, using kick and snare arrangements lifted from bass-inclined genres and transposing it to Techno. On the particularly tumultuous “Emergence,” piercing kick drums jut out from the center of the track with an onerous corporeal pursuit as noisy atmospheres clamour to the progression of the track. 

But it’s very much a record of two sides, with the A-side honing that stark, bass-infused minimalism to a fine degree on the dance floor, while the B-side retreats into evocative melodies. At its most extreme the record touches on the fringes of Trance with “Spherical Wave” which is both at odds with the rest of the record, trapped in some unflinching 4-4 rhythm and yet also offers some dynamism as the artist ventures slightly from the sound he’s covered over most of his first two records.

It leaves a tantalising musical allure that will undoubtedly follow the artist into his next record, and the next decade.

 

Pretty Sneaky – 5 (Pretty Sneaky) 12″

Synthesised “found sounds“ from parallel dimensions transmitted on the frequencies of Dub rhythms and records that seem to want to draw no line of separation between genres, Pretty Sneaky is a white label that has been intriguing since it first emerged in 2017. We thought the mysterious first record was an elusive one-off, never to be repeated, but somehow the label is enjoying it’s fifth release and the third release of this year. 

With only a quirky stamp signifying its alliances a Pretty Sneaky record holds absolutely no information about its origins, but the dub-infused Techno that adorns each record hints at the UK. Pretty Sneaky 5 pursues a similar sonic aesthetic set forth since the first record suggesting a single artist or group behind the stark minimalist polyrhythmic constructions. 

Percussive rhythms come together like Steve Reich’s clapping music, abstract and aloof, but congregating around the hefty sub-bass undulations that anchor the record in the realm of dub music. Only the electronic squeaks of abstract atmospheres of the A-side and the impulsive conjurings from some counterfeit electronic organ on the B-side, break the monotony of a repetitive loop that dominates both sides.

It’s an unpretentious record that asks nothing more than to be played through an almighty sound system. 

 

Lost Trax – Surface Treated (Delsin / 139dsr)

It was like Lost Trax was created to be on Delsin. The anonymous artist/artists behind the Lost Trax name have been putting out records on the likes of Shipwrec and Tabernacle records for a while, but it’s particularly on Delsin where they seem to have found some congruity between their sound and the sound of the label, like they’ve always been destined to be on there. 

Lost Trax’ music is built on those Dutch DIY traditions that took root in labels like Bunker and through artists like Legowelt, and while the records for Shipwrec and Frustrated Funk have upheld those traditions, their records for Delsin seeks to contemporize these traditions for the next generation. 

Surface Treated finds Lost Trax funnel early Electro and Techno into the deepest recesses of club music. Tracing a trajectory to the dance floor between submerged, rolling basslines and ethereal melodies, Lost Trax expose a visceral subtext in their music on this release. It’s only ever on “Still”, the ultimate track on the EP that Lost Trax relay some of that classic Electro that dominates the their early releases, but for the most part they favour a softer edge in their music, which is particularly effective on opener  “De Laye” and the striking “Interstate”.

There’s a progressive nature to both these tracks with an appealing melodic component, which on “Interstate” travels along some of the prettiest harmonies we’ve heard on a record of this nature for some time. Travelling on a deep, yet effervescent bass-line a simple lead line bounces between wispy pads, congregating around a deceiving, up-beat pulse. It marks a highlight for a record that is its own zenith in an already outstanding discography. 

 

Nick Klein – Jesus Take The Wheel (Viewlexx) – 12″ 

Nick Klein is always “hoping to conjure an aural space of sanctuary and escapism” in his music, with a sanctuary embraced in the warm bowels of a dystopian machine-made romance. The American artist had arrived onto the scene through America’s ever-intriguing cassette scene, but by the time he arrived on the vinyl format through Unknown Precepts with “Failed Devotee” his music evolved slightly from the DIY culture that cassette culture has always inspired.

Releases for L.I.E.S and BANK followed as Klein’s music found the darker corners of dance floors around the world, contorting with the salacious desires of machine-made beat music. It’s no surprise that a label like Viewlexx beckoned and that Nick Klein answered the call, but on this occasion some compromise seems to have had to occur as Nick Klein moved into more focussed club music territory.

Stripping his sound back from the bolder synthwave and 80’s EBM traditions that dominated his earlier work, Nick Klein appears to try to accommodate an elusive dance floor on “Jesus Take the Wheel.” Repetitive beat phrases coaxed from distorting machines develop very little throughout the four tracks on the record with perfunctory design underpinning all these tracks. 

Klein’s darker textures, and noise-y production will find favour with the more provocative corners of club music, and the slow tempos at which these tracks march through the record is charged with  seductive rhythmic designs. It’s only the last track, that he breaks with the rest of the record and exposes some of those cassette DIY roots, as distorting guitars and saturated synthetic atmospheres converge on “Can’t Be A Candle”; ambient music as relayed from dystopian vision of the future.  

 

Various – Club People Vol.1 (Anopolis) 12″ 

Somebody recently said that Athens will be the new Berlin, and while this kind of postulation usually has us rolling our eyes– just leave Athens to be Athens, why do we need another Berlin – there is certainly some relationship between social conditions and music. It’s usually under some kind of duress that societies are at their most creative. 

After the financial fallout of a crippling debt crisis, expounded by a humanitarian crisis that the rest of Europe simply lumped on the shoulders of the poor country, Athens has seen better days, to say the least. In the midst of this, a burgeoning Techno scene had begun to flourish as the genre reached the incredibly popular heights. Let’s just get this straight however, Greece had always had an electronic music scene, but more recently an underground component to the mainstream has come to the fore allowing room for a new label like Anopolis to come into existence.

On the second release from the label, Anopolis introduces four new artists, each proffering a different interpretation of club music in one versatile compilation. Foukodian Rhythms, lakovos, Dim DJ and Drum Machine plot a course through the vast expanse of club music with elements of breakbeat, acid, House and Techno converging on the fringes of lo-fi techniques. 

At times, like the 4-minute drop on Foukodian Rhythms’ “Big Wednesday,”  the tracks are in need of some refinement, but it’s this youthful exuberance prevalent throughout, that holds a finger up to the uber-produced establishment currently saturating European clubs. At its most effective Grecian “old guard” Dim DJ, brings the necessary experience and practised skills to the compilation with the entrancing psychedelia of “Acid-O-Rama” while maintaining that DIY machine music aesthetic. 

On the other end of the spectrum, lakovos offers a brooding, stomping Techno cut that could be quite at home in some vacuous underground concrete liar, which alongside the other tracks cover the vast spectrum of Techno music on this release and a fine representation of electronic club music coming out of Greece at the moment. 

That’s my bag with Osunlade

When Osunlade released his debut LP, Paradigm, it moved through House music echelons like a breath of fresh air. At a time when House music was moving into charts and MTV, he took the genre back to its roots and beyond with an album that was culmination of his ancestral roots and his depth-defying skills as a producer. Osunlade stepped out of the majors and into the underground, shaking off the commodified business of music to get back at the soul and funk  that originally informed House music. 

His record debuted on Soul Jazz, and set a precedent that he took into creating his own label, Yoruba which has perpetuated a musical ideology that has remained unwavering through Osunlade’s discography, up to his latest LP Aché. Aché has been a realisation of a dream for Osunlade, which has all the makings of a great pop record on par with something like Sign O’ the Times, because of the kaleidoscopic musical flavours that imbues the record.

Like every Osunlade record, Aché channels something ancient through the music, something that extends beyond roots music and is contained in the spirit of the artist. There is often an organic element to Osunlade’s music imparted by the physical act of playing his instruments and on Aché it’s honed to a fine finesse with the appearance of an orchestra and Osunlade’s voice on this record. More Soul than House music, Aché  is a record that has all the qualities of a timeless record with elements of Jazz, Soul and to some fine degree House music, channelled through the Osunlade’s unique artistic voice. 

It was in the shadow of the release of this record that Osunlade arrived at Jaeger for a set during our annual Oslo World festival. Living between Santorini and St. Louis and with an extended stay in Japan after his set at Jaeger, Osunlade is the definition of a worldly artist, and  when he arrived in our booth it was all business for the US artists and DJ. With his sights set on the dance floor, we hit the red record button and then reached out to Osunalde when he landed in Japan to ask a few more questions about the set, his unique touring lifestyle and of course Aché.

You’re constantly on the road at the moment, staying in one country or region for extended periods at a time. What kind of effect (past the logistical) does this kind of lifestyle have on your music? 

It has a major impact on my music as music is simply a diary of my life, my experiences, the places, people and moments are what creates the stories I tell musically.

You tend to record your music in set locations, so how do you feel your music migrates between your studios in Santorini compared to St. Louis?  

It’s totally different as both are specifically different set ups. Santorini is definitely a quieter setting so the music tends to be a bit more open in approach as there is much more room to breathe whereas St. Louis is more an insular creative space. I lock myself in the studio there and tend to create more content as my studio there’s is a more a cave and is underground so I have no concept of time or the outside world.

You were raised in St Louis, and Missouri has an incredible music history. How much did that history spur you on in learning to play the piano when you were seven and eventually developing your own voice as an artist?

It was and is everything! My influences are directly from the funk, soul and jazz I heard growing up. St. Louis is like mostly midwestern cities in the fact that musically we heard a multitude of sounds that may not have reached the major cities in the country so our influences are wider I think. 

I believe Prince was also a huge influence. What era Prince was this and what was it about the purple one that you developed into your own style?

Prince is in fact my biggest influence to date. I first heard “Soft & Wet” in 78. Even at an early age id been into music yet had never heard a sound like his. This overall is the impact. His ability to alter all the sounds I loved and make them his own. That appeal is my approach. To never copy and to create a style of my own.

On your last LP, Ache’ you seem to pay special homage to him. Some of the vocals are very Prince-esque and the overall sound has that Paisley-park-funk to it, while I can’t help but see Prince in the artwork. What was Prince’s influence on this LP specifically?

Not at all, I never think or have any artist in mind when creating. My voice is what it is and is catered around all the funk bands of my era, not only Prince. Growing up in bands in the Midwest was about funk so the style is bigger than just one artist. The fact that most only know my house material (which is the lesser of my work) tend to hear only part of the full experience of my sound. St. Louis has its own funk and I claim that my music is St. Louis funk, not Minneapolis at all. But this is something you’d need to experience as a whole to understand.

When did House music first capture your attention and how have you always strived to interpret the music through your own history?

I spent most of my summers in Chicago growing up so house was also a part of my upbringing. My take on house was funk soul music at a faster rhythmic pace, nothing more. If u slow them down you will hear a soul record first. It all starts with the song and for me it’s funk first.

You followed a very unorthodox route into House music compared to your contemporaries, starting out on the business end of the music industry, which you eventually left, to strike out on your own as an artist. What was the catalyst for this?

It’s simple, I hated the music business and the music I created during that period as it wasn’t from my heart. I needed a vehicle to create what was true to me. 

What sort of work were doing for the majors… were you already producing at that point?

I was producing for several major labels.

The industry has never really been a nurturing environment for artistry, but what did you take from the experience into your solo career?

Although not great for artists, the industry back then was a great way to learn the business. How to nurture artists and most importantly the art of A&R. My label is different to most as I to this day follow the model of what I learned from the majors. I mentor every artist I sign and it normally takes years before I release anything on any artist. Whereas most labels simply sign things for the hit or name factor and usually the music is original or special. 

I think for most, including myself, your debut LP Paradigm is enshrined in House music lore as a classic today. What is you relationship with those early pieces today?

I still love them today! I think at the time this was a special event as again there’s was nothing out that sounded like me. As I’ve grown older, of course these are less exciting as my tastes have evolved. 

You continue to utilize the same tools and practises to make music today, but there’s still an evolution in your work between Paradigm and Ache’. How have you perceived the development of  your artistic voice through your career?

Absolutely! This is my aim when writing anything. The tool change always which is what brings the evolution however, the practices stay the same. The approach is to never repeat myself.

I know you don’t watch television and don’t pay much attention to any popular media. Where do you find your inspiration beyond music?

I watch quite a shit ton of movies, mostly rare or obscure as my travels keep me alone it’s entertaining and educational. I especially dig biopics or anything related to previous artists be it music or otherwise. 

Each album seems to contain its own musical universe, both in concept and sound. Is this something that you always do on a conscious level like you did on Pyrography LP?

100% I make music for the time when I am no longer. As artists we never receive our full due until we die. Something about humans tend to care more after life. I guess it’s  because we realize there will be no more. I’d like what I left behind to be a full and complete story of my journey so every song, every ep, every album hasn’t to be its own chapter per say. 

I’ve read that Ache’ is the album you dreamt of making. In what sense was that album a fulfilment of a dream?

Mostly because I was able to afford an orchestra. When working for the majors I was blessed with this for other artists but it’s such a daunting effort financially so when I set out to commit to saving for this album it was a serious effort. One that took 7 years to complete. It’s definitely my mostly complete work as an artist. It’s closest to where I am today.

I’ve always considered you an album artist (even though you’ve been prolific in releasing EPs and 12 inches too). What is it about the LP format that you personally prefer?

I like the story. Again each album is another’s chapter. I can go back and relive exactly where I was, who I was in love with etc.

On a side note, will there be a physical release for Ache’?

Yes the vinyl will release in January as well. There will be a limited colored vinyl box set with extras like a certified print of the cover art which is one of my collages.

All you’re albums have a very organic sound to them, most likely due to the fact that you play your instruments. But listening back to your DJ set from Jaeger, you seem to favour a more mechanical sound. How do approach music differently in the context of a set and how do you relay something of Osunlade the artist through your sets?

They seem two totally different things to me. Djing is a skill and not a talent which is why there are so many today. For me it’s about making people dance and educating simultaneously. Also in today’s house the more electronic stuff is simply more interesting. I hate nothing more than listening to an artists catalog and it’s basically the same song over again. 

What did you think of the experience at Jaeger?

I enjoyed Jaeger immensely! The sound was great and everyone there was lovely As well as Oslo. I must return soon :) 

As a DJ that travels so much and plays all over the world, you must be aware of a kind of movement in the scene that has shifted towards industry more than community. What are your thoughts on the scene as it is today and what keeps you motivated to keep playing to audiences out there?

I hate the scene as a whole as it’s white shit and not about music whatsoever. I stay away from all the hype bullshit. As well I normally never listen to house music until I’m going for a tour. It can be quite boring for me. Jazz, Funk, Soul and World music are my bag. I need real music with real musicians playing real instruments to excite me. If it’s something I can achieve or create I’m not interested at all. 

What I’ve always admired about your music and again on Ache’ is how you are able to make music that is completely out of step with any zeitgeist, and yet somehow it thrives beyond it’s time. How are you able to maintain that distance between what’s happening around you and still find some form of music that speaks to contemporary ears?  

I guess that’s just my instinct and clarity of self. I kinda live in my own world really so as music as I’m in the world I’m sort of an alien in truth. St Louis and Santorini are both grounding for me and helps me stay in my fantasy land internally.

Ache’ was the first LP for you since 2014, and I imagine you took your time with that one to specifically get that theme across. So what of this LP will inform you future project/projects?

I’ve already another album compete. I write a lot and actually ache was 17 songsmith to begin so some of those are on the next one with newer things. Who knows maybe they will never be heard as I tend to remove songs frequent depending on what an album needs or turns out to be. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to do this. We look forward to having you back at Jaeger sometime soon and safe travels. 

The dance floor is the stage with Safira

*Photos by Cecilie Andrea Torp & Victoria Therese

Safira Olsen is breaking the mould in a scene currently dominated by commodity over substance. She is a DJ who arrived out of relative obscurity four years ago and has used her sudden rise in popularity in the booth to facilitate a scene around her through her Extra Delicious events in Oslo.

Safira stepped into a DJ booth for the first time at a Mandagsklubben four years ago and has garnered a very intense and dedicated following ever since. She always brings a crowd wherever she plays without much effort and it’s all down to the community she’s built around her and her Extra Delicious concept. 

Born to a Palestinian father and a Norwegian mother, Safira has followed a very different route to the booth from her peers with little prior experience in electronic music before the Dj bug bit. From her very first set, her star rose quickly beyond Oslo and she has appeared in far off destinations like Sri Lanka and more recently Australia, while cultivating a following back home in Oslo.

In 2019 Extra Delicious first appeared on Oslo’s Musikkfest programme, unheard of for an event series in their first year, but the success of that first event and the Extra Delicious events have only strengthened Safira’s resolve in building community from those foundations. “I want to bring more culture and performance artists,” she tells me about her desires in a  candid backstage chat before her last appearance at Jaeger for Oslo World.

“It’s really nice to help people,” she tells me in the context of Extra Delicious’ cultural project and next evolution as a label. “There are so many people sitting at home that are really good at their art art form, but perhaps they don’t have the connection,” and Safira is determined to give these people a platform. She’s s chosen Cubicle and F.Angst aka Sortna to eventually inaugurate the label, but first there’s a dance floor beckoning for her and SAMA’.

The early set is a “different vibe” to what Safira is used to playing, but she has “certain tracks that will warm up a new audience to the darker sounds” she usually plays and which should feed into SAMA’s set quite easily. “Now I feel that I can take my time to build up the audience,” she continues “and it doesn’t have to be full on all the time.” 

The event at Jaeger is her penultimate event before she heads out to Australia for the winter season, and with only a few days remaining in Oslo, we slip into the the chesterfield couch in the backstage at Jaeger to talk about her upcoming trip, Extra Delicious and how she’s established her presence on the DJ circuit.

Why are you going to Australia for an extended period.

It’s a holiday/work trip. I’m just going there with no expectations and hope to get some gigs. I always end up meeting the right people. I want to go to India and Thailand too, because I have a lot of connections there. 

When I read you’re biography it also said that you play a lot in Sri Lanka. What’s the connection with Sri Lanka?

It was two years ago during winter. When you work during the night as a DJ in Norway, you get a little depressed, because you’re sleeping during the day. So I went to Sri Lanka, and I promised myself not to check out any music or the scene, and I ended up playing everywhere and meeting so many people, so it was the most musical journey I’ve ever had. I realised it wasn’t the music that left me uninspired, it was just being stuck in the same scene. 

The year after that I started playing at a festival in Sri Lanka. I ended up playing after one of my favourite artists, Grouch and one of his band mates invited me to stay on his couch in Melbourne. Everything ended up coming together on this journey to where I am now. 

Just from DJing and interacting with people?

It feels like I am on such a good vibe with this. If you try too hard, I don’t think you’ll get it. You just have to do your own thing. You just have to enjoy what you do and the right things will come to you. 

In terms of getting gigs, you are not that active on social media either.

No. I want people to actually want my performance. I don’t want to have to prove myself, because I have a little stage fright. 

When I had my first gig, I was actually forced to do it by André Bravo. It was a Monday at Jaeger. I promised myself that I would never play out in a club before this; I was only doing this for myself and I wouldn’t play out in front of people I didn’t know. Then, I realised when you’re a DJ you’re not actually on a stage, you make the stage for someone else. The dance floor is the stage. 

But you didn’t just step into the booth at that Mandagsklubben right, you had to be DJing before, right?

I had a friend and neighbour, Zoran who had a pair of decks and let me practise after I tried  it out at some after-parties. He just let me do my own thing and only stopped me if it got really bad. I’m really grateful for his patience. He’s not in the club scene at all, just a music lover with a good system at home. 

Then I met Bravo, and he definitely saw something in me and I’m forever thankful that he almost forced me to have my first gig. I was always on the dance floor before bringing people out to dance and now I can give people the same experience. 

From the first time your name cropped up, there always seemed to be a bit of buzz around the nights you played and that has been about you bringing the crowd out. Did you have to work at that?

I’m a people-person. I had a crowd even before I was Djing. I was always getting my friends together to see other DJ friends of mine. Of course, when I first started DJing and reached out to my friends because I was so nervous, they all came and there were hundreds of people on a Monday. It’s really magical for me to have an opportunity for all my friends to meet each other in an environment where I create the vibe. 

My thing was actually horses. I moved to Oslo to study agriculture, and in my last year I discovered this music. It was two different lifestyles, so I had to choose. It was only the past five years that I discovered this kind of music and it’s more than just the music. It’s the environment and a family, a community.

So clubbing came first and then the music came after that for you?

Before, my friends were dragging me out and I was lucky to have friends with good taste in music. And then I started developing my own tastes, and before I would never imagine myself having this job, DJing. It is really strange living a dream, I never had. 

Do you remember a specific moment or track that inspired you to first mix two songs together?

It’s impossible to remember one track, because there’s a lot of music and it’s always changing since I play so much. 

Was there a particular DJ that inspired you in Oslo?

No, because I never really thought I would be doing this. I didn’t plan it. For every step I got to, I never imagined I would get there. 

What  kind of music were you growing up with, was there ever any electronic music playing at home?

Not really. My family had a restaurant and my stepfather was Italian, so there was a lot of Italian music and a lot of live music. I played a little piano, but I didn’t actually get introduced to this kind of music, before I moved to Oslo. It just happened so fast.

I wasn’t into the party thing before I found electronic music. Electronic music was a more relaxed way of going out. It wasn’t about getting someone to fuck or shitfaced. It was more about going there to enjoy yourself and enjoying the music.  

From what I’ve heard, your sets favour a dark, minimal sound. What usually draws you to those sounds?

I started out in Tech-House and the more groovy and melodic vibe. Because I was going out to some forest parties in Oslo, where they played psytrance, I’ve had some influence from these events too. It’s a different kind of experience, and I think I’ve always had some influence from the psy scene.

So that’s where the psychedelic element comes from?

Yes

Is there a lot of music out there that bridges those two worlds and how does filter into your Extra Delicious events?

Yes, like Breger and Mateo, they where the first two guys I booked to Norway along with Cubicle, Joona, Mekke Marit and Tingeling. These are the guys I look up to the most, and I was really lucky to book them and play with them. 

It’s really nice to have the middle thing, where these environments meet. So not only the Techno scene and Minimal scene, but also the artistic performance art and psy-scene where you can combine all these people. Usually you have one event for each of these, but I feel like at my events, I can get all these people in the same place and maybe discover each other’s art and music style. 

I think that’s happening all over the world at the moment, and I think it’s so nice since I am such a people person, I want all my friends to be friends, but people are different. When you have this music that everybody likes, it’s a little easier to bridge these gaps.  

How many Extra Delicious events have you had?

Six.

Is it  just you or do you have a whole crew with you

I like to say we when I talk about Extra Delicious but it’s just me. I try to work with people, but I like to do it my own way. However, I always get a lot of help from my close friends, and I work closely with the artist’s crew too. 

What motivated you to start the events?

Because I love these artists. I wanted somebody else to book these artists, but nobody would. I just had to do it myself.

It’s a lot of work to host those kinds of events, because you go to the forest where there’s no kind of infrastructure.

Yes it is, but I get so much out of it. I get to meet my favourite artists and choose everything myself. It’s really nice to design the kind of parties that I want to go to. The only downside is that I don’t have the time to enjoy them myself.

Have you done any production in terms of making your own music?

No, I have such great expectations, and with production, it’s really hard to do something well. I need a lot of time for this, and it has to be something good. That’s why it’s good for me to travel as well, so I can use the time. You can’t force creativity.

You are pretty content just DJing?

That’s the problem. When you are really good at something, it’s really hard to start from scratch and do something else. It’s about stepping out of my comfort zone. 

You have the label coming up and going to Australia, and what else do you have planned for  the future?

There are a lot of things coming up, but I don’t want to jinx it. I want to focus the attention and the money I get from this on trying to help other people, beyond clubbing. I want to use my resources to do a little more than just clubbing. It’s about connecting more with people in Oslo through Extra Delicious.  

So you’re a bit of an altruist. Is this something that extends to DJing too, are you consciously aware of the people on the dance floor and making them happy?

Yes, that’s what drives me. It’s because I have a lot of regular guests that just come to see me, and the nice thing about my crowd is that my biggest fans are also my best friends. I have a personal relationship with my audience.

Remembering David Mancuso with Espen Haa

In 2003 ”Prins” Thomas Moen Hermansen asked his brother  Espen “Haa” Moen Hermansen. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we got David Mancsso to Oslo.” Driven by a passion and interest for David Mancuso’s work and philosophy, Espen took on the mammoth task, not just once, but twice and through those encounters and a few more that centered around trips to the Loft parties in London, Espen got to know the DJ and Disco legend a little better than most. 

Espen Haa had been DJing since the early nineties, and alongside his older brother, he has played an instrumental role in the Full-Pupp events that ran for 15 years at Blå. A dedicated selector, record collector and clubbing enthusiast, Espen has also played a fundamental part in facilitating the scene in Oslo, and has recently took it up himself to re-issue some rare and forgotten gems on the 12” format courtesy of his Neppå label.

He’s hosted, promoted and DJ’d a fair few events throughout his career in Oslo, but some of the most significant of these are two that brought over David Mancuso.   

The allotted space of this introduction here would not even begin to scratch the surface of the legacy of David Mancuso on the modern DJ scene today.Books have been written about the man and his monumental influence on club and DJ culture. Disco exists because of David Mancuso. The music that he played and presented at his legendary Loft parties in New York would fuse into Disco ten years later while the philosophy of his parties would inform what eventually become Paradise Garage, the Gallery, Studio 54 and every club in existence today, and that’s no exaggeration.

His emphasis on sound and the unwavering philosophy of social engagement he brought to his events are some things that still echo through our scene today. Yet, nobody embodies this spirit more than David Mancuso and when he passed away in 2016, he left a profound legacy that no other DJ, promotor or club has, or will ever be able to amount to. 

A reserved person, especially in the years leading up to his death, David Mancuso has very rarely been interviewed, and has had few acquaintances that knew him all that well outside of his inner sanctum of his New York clique. While I’ve read a lot about David Mancuso, I’ve never really spoken to anybody that has had more than a passing word with him. 

Espen however, through his dealings with Mancuso in Oslo and his own interests in the Loft and the philosophy, has gotten to know the man on a personal basis throughout the years and I reached out to Espen to find out more about their relationship and fill in some blanks for us. 

How did you first find out about the Loft and David Mancuso?

I think it was around the late 90s, we talked a lot about New York and its influences and in the early 2000’s me and my friend and DJ, Marius Jøntvedt (DJ Muriazz) went to New York on a pilgrimage to seek it out. We had heard about the Loft and Mancuso, but we went to Body and Soul, because it was like the closest version of the (defunct) Loft at that time. It was very fascinating and inspiring. 

Was he playing at those body and soul parties?

No, but the link between the Loft and Body and Soul was there, because they tried to party in the spirit of Mancuso with downtempo and uptempo; going back to back; no alcohol license; and going from the afternoon into evening. It was very different from nightclubs and very much a private thing.

What inspired you and Marius to go over and experience it all for yourself?

We were into the whole US House, Garage and Disco thing, and it was very natural to go over there and visit all these great record stores. We went to a house party with Danny Krivit in Brooklyn and we were the only tourists there. We made it to to all these great spots. We tried to go to all these places where most of all this music is from. We went record shopping and partying for two weeks. 

It wouldn’t have been as popular as today or even the early nineties at this point. 

It’s hard to say, but there were a bunch of record stores still in New York and we were going to parties on a Monday and Tuesday. I don’t think it is like that anymore. It might not have been a peak for House music, but Ron Trent, Danny Krivit and Francois Kavorkian all still had residencies there. 

Tell me about going to the Loft.

I was never at the Loft in New York, I was at the Loft parties in London. I don’t think David  was doing any parties in New York at that time. There was a period between the mid-eighties to the late nineties that he was not really that popular. He moved the club in the mid-eighties and lost a lot of his audience. In the late nineties he started to get to know an English guy called Tim Lawrence, who wrote the book “love saves the day.“  He actually got David back doing parties in the early 2000’s in London.  

So you never met David in New York?

I actually met him in Oslo for the first time and then I met him a few times after that again in London. 

The Loft was such a significant space because of David’s philosophy behind it. How did it translate to a party in London?

At least they tried to create the same kind of vibe. David was always like: “if you have to do a party that’s not in your own apartment, you have to ask yourself, could I stay here at night.”

The parties in London were on the second floor of a pub in a big space. It was a rented space and it wasn’t anybody’s home, but it was a super-friendly vibe. It’s possible to transfer the same vibe if the people that are there are at the party for the right reasons. It was a community. 

I think he was happy with the space in London, because they had it for many years. 

And David would play his records there?

David would play his records there. It started at five in the afternoon with super-mellow, spacey music and people would arrive like a normal house party and then it developed as the dance floor got going. It peaked for a few hours and then he took it down again. He played for roughly six hours.

He was always very adamant that there shouldn’t be any mixers in his setup and that a record should play all the way through. Did he at any point change that approach in London?

No. At every party I saw David, he never mixed. He didn’t even want to see a mixer. (laughs) It just interfered with the music for him. He was very particular about playing the whole record. He saw the music as a piece of art, and thought who am I to do anything about that. He was very straightforward about that and he still respected people that wanted this flow, mixing records together, but it wasn’t for him really. I discussed it with him several times. 

Was he playing LPs or 12”?

He wanted to play music as good as it could be and he preferred the 12” for that reason. He could easily play a 14 minute side from start to end.

Was it generally older stuff he played, or did he throw some contemporary things in there?

At the first parties, he was very stuck in his own music and stuff he had been playing for thirty years. I actually tried to slip him some new stuff and he took in some modern House stuff, but peak time he gave people the classic stuff.   

When he was playing to people that were dancing, was it usually beat-driven kind of stuff in the sense of that quintessential early Disco sound?

Well, when people were dancing he played beat-music. Early on he played more drizzling and exotic music, often beatless. He was a master in building up, and he could play “non-party music” for a couple of hours. He wanted that. Who wants banging music from the minute they arrive at a party? 

When you did get him over to Oslo, I imagine it wasn’t easy?

No, it wasn’t easy. I had quite a few people warn me about it. “Espen you don’t need this in your life,” they said. It’s this whole package that you have to say yes to. 

I did The Loft in Oslo With Marius Jøntvedt, Jan Erik Sondresen and Marius Engemoen (Marius Circus). The first time we had him over, it was actually at Blå where Thomas and Strangefruit had this night called Cosmic Jam sessions and Thomas asked me to try and get David Mancuso over. I emailed David, and he wrote back a few days later; “when can I call you?” He wanted all correspondence to be over the phone. 

I convinced him it was a friendly place and it was a friendly environment, and we paid him quite well. We did it in combination with one of the Loft parties in London.

It was pretty interesting having a guy like him coming to guest a night at Blå, but because he didn’t really know the music, he was very clear on opening for Thomas and Pål. That was hard to sell to the audience, because people came roughly at 23:00 like they do in Norway. 

Did he just play on Blå’s soundsystem?

Well the first time he even played with a mixer. He didn’t do any knobbing, just brought the volume up and down and played the songs as he always has. The second time we did a lot more with the sound.

Tell me about the second time?

This was 2005. We decided to do the whole Loft thing, with the soundsystem, the food and everything. We rented Stratos because it was the highest room in Oslo, but we didn’t have any Klipschorns or any big home stereo rig so we rented a system from a place in Drammen. 

David insisted on somebody to do the sound and I was like: “we’ll find somebody”. And David said, “no no, there’s two ways to do the sound Espen, the right way or the wrong way.” We had to get this guy called Ian Mackie from Scotland, he did all the Loft parties in London. 

We had to have David here for a whole week, so he could get to know everything. We had to get a stereo installed in his hotel room so he could listen to records, crazy stuff. We did no promotion, because that’s the way they did it in New York. This wasn’t very smart, we should’ve advertised it a little more. It was a new thing to Oslo, this old-school private party, and the night went fine, but we lost a lot of money so we never did it again. (laughs) 

After that I had to go to London if I wanted to see David.

You got to know him a little during this time. What was he like as a person, did that kind of pedantic thing he had about music extend to his personality as well? 

We got to know him and I spent a lot of time with him. He was passionate and very idealistic, but he was shy as well. He was interested in music, but he was very political as well. He was always talking about progression, and getting the different sides of society to meet. He was very into the concept of breaking boundaries and getting people together and the parties were ideal for that. He was very concerned about the less-fortunate people in society. 

He was an introvert and not easy to communicate with. It took some time to get under his skin, but after a few days and more meetings, the corners became a little more rounded. He was a bit withdrawn. This man had been worshipped for 35 years and he was used to being in the middle of things, so he was social, but not very outspoken.

We talked about music and equipment and the madness of nightclubs taking too much money on alcohol. He had stopped taking drugs and I believe he took a lot of drugs in the eighties. He barely drank while he was over here. He wasn’t very interested in having a lot of people around him but on a one-on-one situation he was an incredibly interesting man to talk to.

You say he didn’t drink much, but I always thought he was completely against drinking and the Loft didn’t allow any alcohol?

I think he had a bottle of whisky with him in the booth. (laughs) I know at the Loft parties in New York, people brought their own coolers with drinks. They didn’t have a cabaret license because David wanted to make this a party thing, he didn’t want to make any money from the bar. 

I know he did make a lot of money in admission in the late seventies and early eighties. These are things I’ve learnt from Tim Lawrence: he earned a lot of money and he spent it all on Hi-Fi and his friends. He was super generous with his friends.

Did you ever talk to him about the peak era of the Loft?

A little bit, but he wasn’t really into sharing and we asked a lot of questions. He was kind of general about it. He talked about Paradise Garage and studio 54 as places quite different from the Loft, because they had a focus on celebrity and Disco. 

The early Loft space was like 150-200 people and it was quite small and private. He wasn’t into the name game at all. I don’t think he even think he liked the subject. 

He wanted to speak about the cause and all the things that happened in New York in the seventies and the eighties with all the gay people and the poor people being pushed out of Manhattan. These were topics for David. 

He didn’t want to refer to the Loft as a Disco. He played Funk, Jazz, Latin and Afro and the Disco came in in ‘75. The fusion of everything he played became Disco in the mid 70s. 

When was the last time you saw him or had a conversation with him?

That could be 2008 in London. I don’t remember when, but at some point his health deteriorated and he wasn’t travelling. Colleen Cosmo took over as the musical host in London. It was always a highlight to come to London and see him and speak to him.

It was a brief friendship, and I didn’t know him very well, but I spent some time with him. I emailed him a lot, but around 2010, he just stopped answering emails and I know he did that with a lot of people. The last 6 years of his life he had only had a handful of people around him that he trusted, but it wasn’t much more than that.   

And looking back on it all, was there a piece of music that defined the David Mancuso’s sound for you through all your endeavours together?

It’s hard to pick one track, I have to name three:

Demis Roussos – L.O.V.E Got a hold of me

Brass Construction – Music makes you feel like dancing

Roy Ayers – Running away 

And he never played bootlegs. Sound quality was one thing. And he thought it was unheard of to support releases that did nothing for those who wrote the music. 

Mind, heart and elevation with Sami Zibak

*Photo by Dor Schwartz

Sami Zibak is a queer Palestinian DJ that emerged out of Tel Aviv’s club circuit, and has gone to help establish a new clubbing community in Haifa as well as regularly playing abroad in places like Berlin and soon Oslo. Sami Zibak’s personal history is colourful mosaic of influences that straddles a rich cultural heritage that goes from his Palestenian roots to the queer clubbing community that embraced him as a dancer and DJ. 

Stepping into the queer clubbing community in Tel Aviv, Sami Zibak went from being a guest to a dancer, providing the alluring visual component to the music. Dancing opened the door to DJing, and Sami soon captivated his audiences in sound, in much the same way his dancing did before in movement. As one of the first openly queer Palestenian DJs, he not only paved a way forward for others, but opened the door to entire community waiting in the wings.

From Tel Aviv he moved to Haifa, considered to be the beating heart of the Palestinian underground scene, leading a gateway to the surrounding Arab communities in the region including Golan Heights, Ramallah and Amman (Jordan). Sami Zibak is an elusive force on DJ circuit in the region with sets informed by the same eclecticism that follows his cultural roots.

There is very little left unexplored through his sets, as he favours an openness that reflects the person behind the set. From Deep House to 90’s rave breakbeat, Sami’s sets can go everywhere in his unflinching pursuit in finding some fluidity between his audience and the music he plays. Being openly queer and Palestenian, comes with its own complexities that seem unlikely to merely unravel through a set. So with a visit to Oslo for Everysome and Jaeger looming, we reached out to Sami via email to ask more about some of these complexities and how they inform his work as a DJ. 

Hello Sami and thank you for taking the time to talk to us. 

Hey! Thank you very much for this interview! 

I understand that you are a queer Palestinian living and working in Israel. Can you give us a little more background information about how you arrived in Tel-Aviv? 

So, many people don’t know, but after Israel declared itself as a country in 1948, Palestinians were divided into 3 separate domains, Gaza Strip, The West Bank, and some of us stayed inside what became Israel. My family is from Nazareth which is an Arab city in northern Israel that is well known in the christian faith, and Nazarene Palestinians didn’t leave their homes (as many other Palestinians did back in 1948). So I am from the Palestinians that lives inside Israel and I have an Israeli passport. 

To make a long story short on how I got to Tel Aviv, it all started with my parents Azmi and Ghada, that left Nazareth after finishing high school and moved to Haifa city to study Arts and Engineering in the university. After graduating, they moved to Tel-Aviv and was part of the first Palestinians to live in this city back in the 80’s. They wanted to live a less conservative life and experience more cultural options. Tel Aviv is a city mainly inhabited by Jewish-Israelis and its considered to be the jewel of Israel, which means the government puts a lot of money and effort to make it look shiny, bright and colorful, which in many ways it IS, but in some other ways it is not, when you realise it’s a bourgeoisie bubble that likes to perceive itself as open and elevated when in real life it’s a greenhouse for ignorant rich people that practice left wing ideas as if they were a pilates or yoga classes… in other words, their elevation reaches only to the edges of their comfort zone and no further. 

Anyway, I was born in Jaffa, which is an Arab city connected to Tel-Aviv. My parents moved here when me and my older sister, Haya, were born so we could grow in an Arabic speaking environment and practice our Arab and Palestinian culture. I will explain shortly that in the middle east, there are Arabs with different religions, there are muslim, druzi, and christians. My family is christian (not religious), but regardless of our so called faith, we share the same cultural system as any other Arabs.

I grew up in Jaffa, I loved my childhood. At some point in the beginning of my high school days I became very socially popular in the Arab community in Jaffa for my work in the scouts, church and other local institutions. But when I came out as gay at age 17.5, I was totally banned from this community, and in one day, all the connections I had, came to an end. As a result I moved to Tel Aviv, to search for a place and people that will accept me as I am and will grant me the environment to practice and discover my unique self. 

How did you get into club music from there?

Photo by David Havroni

I’m a super social person, therefore I make friends quickly. And so was my first footsteps in the city; I was very excited and thirsty to discover new communities and people, and the Tel-Avivians were extremely curious to know who is this new gay Arab that arrived in their city, because back then (2007) I was almost the only Arab in the hip community of Tel Aviv. So in the very beginning before I knew anybody I went to a gay party called PAG – I was under age to go into the club, 17.5 years old, and the bouncer allowed me to go in because I was cute, or because it was my destiny to go in. Entering this party which was my first club experience ever, I was shocked from everything I saw, starting from the electronic music (back then it was the Electro genre) and from the cute guys and from the crazy performers and dancers,  fashion, which was all about neon new wave. It was a whole new world for me and I loved it because I have never seen such a thing before. I fell in love with this music and vibe, and shortly after I started to work at the door of this party and went in a dress to my shift. 

I was super bitchy with the guests, so the owner of the party, Roy Raz told me to go inside the club and dance. A little while after I became the ultimate all time diva of this party and my voguing dance performances are well remembered and admired till today in many parts of Tel Aviv. Many other new queer personalities in the city, both Arabs and Jews came in search of me and were inspired and encouraged to be their beautiful self. One thing I can tell you is that I couldn’t do it without the music that was played in the club. A mix of electro and oldskool house trax with piano keys, put my soul on fire and my body couldn’t resist making the most amazing poses and postures on stage (the stage was a speaker). The funny thing is that when I was performing on stage, I always had an inner conflict whether to continue dancing or to go down the stage and run to the dj booth to ask him for the track id. 

Yes, I believe it was dancing that provided the impetus to start DJing. What was it about DJing that appealed to you and what music tended to spur you on?

As a dancer I developed a close relationship to the resident dj of the party, those days it was Partok, nowadays he’s a resident dj at The Block club in Tel Aviv, lives in Berlin and plays regularly at Berghain. I was really into his music, and he knew my appreciation was genuine because my musical background was totally different and what I was hearing at the club was completely new to my ear. One day he opened a small bar in Tel-Aviv called Laika Bar and he offered me the opportunity to throw a party there and be the dj. It was kind of a funny thing that we did for the gimmick, but he really taught me to dj on actual CDS. Back then the music I loved was American east coast new wave of deep house, mainly originating from the Underground Quality label of Dj Jus Ed, and its superstars back then: Fred P, Levon Vincent, Dj Qu, Jenifa Mayanja, Anton Zap (Russia), and I was also very into the minimal sound of Hamburg that was led by Dial Records and Smallville records. 

Did you have any musical background before this?

I played the violin through childhood, and then the saxophone throughout early high school but I had to stop because of surgery on my lungs. But that was okay because exactly then, a bit after the millennium, the internet became more usable and the likes of wikipedia became available. I remember surfing the web for hours moving from one topic to another through the modern history of rock music supported by lots of psychedelic, progressive rock and experimental music records my parents collected in the 70’s and 80’s. I have always been drawn to music that has an evolutionary background to it. That’s why when I play a track I know what the producer stands for when he released it. 

You moved to Haifa at some point. What was the motivation for the move and how do those two scenes differ from each other? 

After many years in Tel Aviv between 2007 till 2013, I didn’t practice my Arabian culture, and I barely spoke my mother tongue. I was waiting for life to open a door to Arabs that will accept me as I am, and that I could be who I really am in their midst, with all my freedom and colorful personality and mind. And this door opened in 2013 at one of the “Acid Crew” parties I was doing with my crew back then in Tel Aviv. 

I was dancing in the middle of the crowd when suddenly I heard people speaking in Arabic, and I turned and looked at them and fell in love. It was as if I found home again. I could speak Arabic in the midst of my Tel-Avivian parallel-reality that I created for myself. That was insane, and after the party ended, I couldn’t think about anything else other than these beautiful people I met there. The weeks after, I started to go regularly to Haifa to dj at their parties. Till the day I decided to move there and make the best out of this opportunity. 

For all of us, both me and the Haifa underground scene which was in its very first steps, our encounter was both exciting and weird. For me I was totally shocked that I’ve found Arabs that liked to party hard like me, and they are all about freedom and self expression and resistance to the oppressing norms. And for them it was shocking to have a new member of their community to be extremely open about my gender fluidity and my sexual orientation. 

Plus our music was so different. I was playing strictly house music both oldskool and deep house, and they were kinda still into Trance music. Slowly they opened up to techno and underground house music after travelling in Europe and visiting clubs in Berlin etc. 

Another difference between my experience in Tel Aviv and Haifa, was that the Tel Avivian scene which is a totally Jewish-Israeli scene based upon comfort. Although they sometimes have problems with the police and stuff, in general they are comfortable because they are in their own country and they are free to express them-selves as they like. 

However, the Haifa scene is completely different, because its a scene that was forged as an encounter riot to the racism its members faced in their attempts to participate in the Israeli nightlife and cultural scene. Many times they were rejected at clubs, and not given chances to play in Israeli clubs. So the scene itself is more about resistance and riot against the opression, and into creating a safe space for Palestinian artists and ravers both from the west bank and Israel to come and enjoy themselves and be creative together. 

Were there ever any prejudices or obstructions that you faced stepping into the booth as a queer Palestinian?

In Tel Aviv, I always knew how to transform what could be an obstacle to an advantage. For example, in Tel Aviv which is a city ruled by Jewish-Israeli people that for many years didn’t give almost any Arab Palestinian dj/party promoter/performer a stage, I could break through this wall and claim my stage, when I know that many other Palestinians couldnt do the same.

In Haifa, one of the main obstacles was and still is, is the fact that I have such a strong and rare connection to Tel Aviv, which some Palestinian people consider as treachery. So many times I find myself looked at in a suspicious manner by my fellow Palestinians in the Haifa/Ramallah scenes. 

And last but not least, in Ramallah (West Bank), I have many ravers there that love what I have to offer as a dj but some of them again have a problem with my connection to Tel Aviv. Also there was that time I played in Ramallah and almost got arrested by Palestinian authority for going into the toilet with a guy. Haha. thank the goddess I had the urge to run.  

Photo by Efrat Shahar Kaplan

From what I’ve heard (mostly online), your sets are quite diverse, and you go from Disco to nineties breakbeat. But what do you usually look for in music to make it into your sets?

I always look for mind & heart uplift and elevation through sonic frequencies and words, adding to it the colorful freedom my queer state of being gives me, and there you have a diverse, colorful, uplifting, cool set. 

Also the background of the music is super important to me. Music that is strictly made to express a need for change will always have my favor because when I play it in a club I support them and educate my crowd. 

We’ve had a few DJs from the region play in Oslo recently, and for the most part it’s very similar to what we hear around clubs in Europe. Are there ever any regional (especially Palenstenian) elements that you like to convey in your sets?

I don’t combine Arabian/Palestinian motives into my sets. I play only what I love in the genre of club music. I am aware of the international demand from Arab djs to come and play electronic music combined with Arabian elements. But I am against this oriental obligation. I don’t have to play Arabic stuff just because I’m Arab. I will play whatever I like. But I know that many other Arab djs fall into this demand and play oriental sounds for the white crowd that is thirsty for a taste of exotic rhythms. 

Do you play a lot in Palestine today?

Depends on what you call Palestine :)  I play regulary in Haifa at Kabareet, which is the first Palestinian club ever to be in both Israeli and Palestinian. I am a resident dj over there. Same goes to my monthly appearance at the Tel Avivian club Alphabet which is the only club in Tel Aviv that gives a stage to Palestinian Arab djs to perform.

And regarding playing in the west bank, I used to do it a lot, but honestly I was a bit traumatized from the aggressive response of the authorities there to my gayness and I haven’t visited the city of Ramallah for 4 years. Plus the electronic scene over there was a bit quiet in the last couple of years, and the Hip Hop/Trap scene got stronger so there aren’t that many opportunities to play there as a house music DJ lately.  

Club Culture and dance music had always been in some part in the sense of escapism, and I’ve always found it interesting that such a healthy club scene like the one in Tel Aviv can exist in a politically charged region like that. How are you able to distance yourself from the politics in that region in a club if at all?

When you live in Israel, you can’t be political all the time because if you do so, you won’t do anything here. So sometimes I ignore many things that I think is wrong, and focus on the good things. Also, I would definitely not call the scene in Tel Aviv “Healthy”. I mean yes, from the foreign perspective it looks that we have parties, and we bring over loads of international djs and we also export many locals to perform in the world, but at the end of the day, if you come and have a close look at the condition of nightlife in the city, its kinda bad at the moment. 

There are almost no clubs in the city. There are 3 main clubs for the underground scene, The Block, Breakfast Club and Alphabet Club. Each one of those is kinda struggling against the police and permissions, and music wise each one of them has their own specific line-ups and djs and they forge a bubble alone by themselves. All the other clubs here are commercial so no need to even mention. Furthermore, nightlife in Israel is super ignorant about the political situation, and totally in denial about the existence of Palestinian people and their struggle. Unfortunately most of the ravers here come to clubs and drug themselves to forget. 

So how do you convey a queer identity thgrough your DJ sets and is it transerfable to any context?

I have a weird approach to the term Queer identity. First of all being completely sober and a non smoker in the dj booth is a hell of a queer appearance in an enviroment fed on drugs, alcohol and sigarretes. I usually come to my gigs with a box of fruits and vegetables that I cut at home, and I eat them during my set.  And if I need an elevation, I sniff my tiny bottle of Lavender essential oil. 

Sometimes (it depends on my mood) I can wear dresses of gender fluid clothes. And music wise, my sets are very diverse, I can go through soulful house, disco, rave, breaks, chicago house, detroit futurism and olskool techno. I am free to do whatever I like, because for me deejaying is not about fulfilling somebody’s expectations. It’s about being myself, and I know that when im 100% myself, it’s fun! For me and for the crowd. If u catch me once playing bad, you should know that I’m not feeling comfortable. And this can happen to me if the crowd is too high on cocaine and just asking me constantly to give them bangers. Just let me be myself, with my imperfection, and I will go with you to a beautiful place. 

Photo by Eliran Nargassi

You’ve spent some time playing in Berlin this year. Is there a connection there for you and how might you play differently there compared back to back home?

Berlin happens to be the capital of electronic dance music nowadays, and many of the industry people, whether they are ravers, djs, promoters or agents, live there. So on one trip I can meet many of my friends from the industry and have fun together, plus we can plan creative projects for the future. 

One of the most interesting ventures I’m doing now is Fluid which is a series of events I do with my dear friend the dj and producer Mor Elian which is a world renowned artist, originally from Tel Aviv, and John Humphry of Higher Ground Agency in Berlin. We do these events at OHM club which is such a cool and sweet venue in the back of the building of the famous Tresor club. 

We provide a platform for talented artists from around the world that usually don’t have a chance to perform in Berlin. We have a special focus on artists from queer scenes, especially those that face political repression or are suffering from the results of conflict. In November we’re gonna host Oramics crew which is a music collective from Poland that is working on providing a safe space for LGBTQ+ clubbing in today’s conservative right wing Poland. 

When I play in Berlin I allow myself more freedom of expression because I know the crowd there is open and want to see the best of me. I believe the same will go for my gigs in Oslo. 

You’re actually playing twice in Oslo when you visit. How do you think your sets will differ between Everysome, a queer event on a Friday night, and Jaeger, which is a little more mixed and on a Sunday?

First of all, I’m super excited to visit Oslo for the first time. I have a special place in my heart for this northern part of the world that I am excited to fulfill in this visit and I’m very grateful to Terje and the crew of Everysome and Jaeger to invite me. I think Queer Friday will be more about Breakbeats, 90’s Rave House music, and Garage. And Mixed Sunday would definitely be the Edgy side of Deep House music. But in both cases, my sets are a mutual creation of me and the crowd therefore creative flexibility with a sense of adventure is always a blessing. 

So let’s discover together! 

 

On my own terms with Karina

“It’s funny what’s going on with social media,” says Karina Chaczbabian while contemplating the spoon in her coffee. “A double espresso” she insisted earlier, “it’s Monday”. “All these things you have to learn,” she continues slipping back into the thought with a rhetorical “do I really want to do this?”

Does she need to do this is a more urgent question. Karina has been DJing successfully around the world these past twenty years, and she’s been doing it all on her own terms. She’s been an enigma, always on some kind of tour, between her various residencies around the world, and yet when she posts something from her artist page today she’s lucky if she receives “three likes” with even her close friends are unlikely to see it. “I hope that people booking these people understand,” she says of the current DJ hype as she contemplates the ubiquity of social media in today’s DJ culture, before she resigns “I just don’t know anymore…”  

It’s a rare moment I get with Karina. She’s on a brief stopover in Oslo, before leaving for the United States and Mexico, where she has a tour lined-up for the autumn season. She hopes to get in a recording session with Connie Yin in New York for their new C&K project, but she will remain on the move in the constant transient lifestyle of a working DJ.  

This has been the reality for the Karina through the better part of her career and regardless of her woes on social media, it doesn’t look to change anytime soon. After the States she’ll hardly have a moment before jetting off to her residency at Analog Room in Dubai, where the Iranian crew has finally secured their own location and then she’s planning an extended stay in the newest Techno capital of the world,Tbilisi, Georgia.

“I really loved the country so I’m considering going there for a few months, and I really want to discover the culture and make music,” she impresses. Georgia, Tbilisi will be the next stop in a life that has taken her from Poland to Norway, Egypt, Ibiza, Berlin and New York through the course of her youth and adult career, which shows no sign of slowing down any time soon. And remarkably she’s done it all with a 100-odd records always in tow.

I meet Karina for a coffee on her way to Filter Musikk where she has to convince Roland Lifjell to hold a consignment of records for her return in a few months. She played Storgata 26 the weekend before, and was delighted in the fact that she could play some of her Disco records this time around. She has been playing a fair bit of Disco recently from Oslo to New York  where she keeps some of those records “in a suitcase at a friend’s place in the Bronx.” While in Oslo she is also trying to coordinate to relocate these records for access upon her next visit to the US and Karina does all this without an agent or manager.

“I haven’t found the right person for me,” she says when I ask her about her lack of agent.  “Why should I pay 20% for something I can do myself,” she demands, but she can agree “it’s not an easy way” of working. Karina is the last of her kind, a DJ that negates the hype and in an industry dominated by social media, she stands out today as an individual dedicated to her craft and the tools of her craft, that could never be appreciated in the measly 80 characters of an average insta post. Hers is a purist pursuit, that is enshrined in the bedrock of the same fundamentals of DJing that started in Ibiza for Karina when she first cut her teeth in the business end of club culture and DJing. 

How did she end up in Ibiza, I wonder. “It’s very simple,” she says, “I just went to Ibiza on holiday. I was looking at these guys working and I was like; I want to do that. I was studying economics at that point, and I was like, why I’m doing that? I got addicted to Ibiza and I spent ten seasons there.” 

She started her life in Ibiza as a waitress, but after a late night at DC10 and Cocoon, she missed her shift and subsequently lost her job. It turned out to be fortuitous for the burgeoning DJ. Even then, Ibiza “wasn’t cheap, everybody was doing everything to survive” and Karina went from waitressing to doing promo for Cream. This was a time before the ubiquitous power of social media and promotion meant reaching out directly to the people. ”I was their best promoter and I actually hated that music,” says Karina with grimace, but she found it quite easy to separate her personal tastes with her job. “I was thinking to myself; ‘There are people that like this and I need to find those people.’” 

She quickly moved on from Cream to Cocoon where she spent six years while DJing around Ibiza. She picked up a residency at The Zoo Project during this time, and the open air would eventually consume all her time, forcing her to leave Cocoon and devote all her energy to The Zoo Project. “I love The Zoo Project – it is so much fun,” muses Karina “an incredible amusement park for grown ups.” 

2019 marks the first year in 20 years that Karina will not be in Ibiza or her beloved The Zoo Project, and I‘m curious whether it has something to do with the recent spat of police raids around the island. “I just wanted something different,” she replies. “I don’t feel it’s changing in a direction that interests me,” she says when I press her on the state of club culture on the balearic isle. That side of the island was inconsequential to a person like Karina, who tended to stay clear of the known tourist traps around the island. Her decision to leave was one based on a simple desire to explore more of the world, especially North America, Georgia and Armenia.

Thanks to her base in the Big Apple she’s travelled all over the States, especially enjoying the divergent House and Techno scenes of San Francisco, Dallas, Chicago, and her favorite Detroit. “Playing in Detroit is quite a challenge for me as an European. I love it and I’m also very nervous. I respect it a lot, ” she says with an unbridled enthusiasm. She’s travelled between Europe and the USA 14 times in the last year and even though she might be in Georgia next year she has no intention of slowing down next year either.

As for her desire to move to Tbilisi, it came after a recent visit to the region. “I went to go look for my roots” she hisses, as a bit of an eastern European accent glides off the oo’s and into the esses. 

“I’m Armenian by descent,” she explains and after a brief visit to the country, she has been inspired to explore more of the region, with Georgia as her base and the booming Techno scene there to facilitate her move. “I really loved the country, so I’m considering going there for a few months, and I really want to discover the culture and the music.” 

She hopes the move might give her the time to work on some new music, but ultimately Karina has always been more of a DJ than a producer. She has enjoyed a musical output, releasing music on Cymawax, God Particle and recently a track called “Acid Meow” for Absence Seizure, but DJing always seemed to trump all her other creative endeavours. Asked about her reserved output, she breaks out in a simper with “yeah of course, because I’m homeless. I’m constantly on tour.” With most of her machines in a house in Poland (where she spends a fair amount of her time too), making music is a real endeavour she can only enjoy when she’s settled somewhere. “That’s the plan for next year,” she tells me. “To stay longer in one place,” in an effort to “work on things a bit more.” She has however managed to find some time in the last year to work on new music with friend and fellow DJ, Connie Yin (Resolute, NYC).

“We actually became good friends before we DJed together,” says Karina, but  it was after playing back to back that they forged a musical bond too. Karina admits, “I don’t like to play back to back all the time,” but with Connie “it was really fun.” 

They shared a musical kinship through DJing, which expounded through their friendship led to them collaborating on their own music as C&K. After an extended stay in New York, Karina and Connie managed to lay down some material in what would be a future release, but Karina insists there’s no rush in putting anything out just yet. “I’m not going to release music, just for it to be released.” She insists on a “quality of sound” in her productions and “music as art” and not a commodity to be flouted as some marketing gimmick to get more gigs.

Talk of a C&K label has also surfaced, but in much the same way that Karina treats music, she “was never interested in having a label for the sake of having a label.” A C&K label would have to remain consistent with her philosophy on music. “I can make a House track in a day,” she insists with a sarcastic overtone; “but for what, is it going to be that good?” Like she is prone to do, Karina leaves the question hanging, and I can’t always  discern if it’s rhetorical. On this occasion I answer with another question. Do you feel you have to make music to get more playtime?

She gives my a side glance before answering; “Obviously there is a correlation… do I need to follow that…. A bit if I want to, but not really.”  It’s understandable why she won’t acquiesce to the archetypes that dominate DJ culture today. As she insists, she is a DJ and a DJ that still honours the traditions of her craft. She won’t be lured into a debate about digital over vinyl, and she respects every DJ’s decision in their choice of format, but she’ll always prefer vinyl. “It’s my choice, and I’m happy with what I do,” she explains while talking about the benefits of the tactile format. 

You can’t deny however, that there’s a certain dedication involved in carrying a big bag of records around the world, and yet the only real downside for Karina is the “the weight and you can’t really take all the music with you that you’d love to have.” Karina thrives in the limitation, but I get the overwhelming sense that these records aren’t merely tools for Karina. “It’s an addiction,” she stresses “an absolute incurable disease,” and yet she doesn’t appear to be looking for any cure. “I sometimes have two copies of a record,” she admits. For Karina, if there’s a “record on sale, that nobody knows about, it can’t just stay there. I feel sorry for the record. It’s talking to me; take me… take me.”

Her second (or is it fourth at this point) home in Poland contains the largest portion of a collection that’s dotted around the world. “I lost control a long time ago,” says Karina about the spread of record collection which includes the House and Techno she plays most often in her DJ sets, but there’s a uniformed approach to her buying habits with records that have “to stand out to be a little different.” Karina is determined that “it can’t have any aggressive sounds in it” and she likes her records “to be moody,” especially the ones she plays in her sets. 

“I’ve invested a lot of money in records,” she impresses and while her friends by now “have a house and a car,” Karina is content in having her freedom and a bag of records at her side. Whenever she returns to Poland, it’s like “digging in my own shop” she tells me with a smile, rediscovering some old favourites, while swapping out the records in her travelling bag. Putting so much effort into the music, Karina prefers a 4 hours for her sets .“I hate these one hour slots. It’s boring, you’re done before you get started.” She prefers to take her time so she and her audience can “have more of an understanding of the night.” She absolutely abhors festival sets today where it’s a case of “bang and your done” and that mature approach is something that follows Karina through all aspects of her music.

Her dedication to the vinyl format; her reserved approach to production and releasing records; her views on running a label; and her desire to remain in one place for an extended (yet temporary) period in order to experience the culture and the music of a region completely is at odds with what the immediacy that DJ- and club culture demands today, both in the physical- and the virtual realm. From her time in Ibiza to her next adventure in Georgia, Karina’s career in music has been forged on her own terms, and there’s no reason she would stop the cycle now.

As our time winds down and we start to make our way to Filter Musikk, Karina relishes in talking about a new track she’s working on and “getting a bass-line together” for the future piece. “I’m really excited about it. It’s a Detroit kind of track, called ‘Pure D’, and it needs that warm bass-line.” Moreover she is “really thinking about working on new music next year,” but first it’s off to the USA, Dubai and somewhere in between there’s a stop home in Kristiansand, Norway again. 

We barely had a chance to talk about the mix she specifically made for Jaeger to accompany the interview, but she makes sure to mention before I press stop on the recording, that “Jaeger is my favourite place in Oslo.” She relishes any opportunity to play at the club and hopes the mix reflects the vibe and feel of Jaeger, as she’s experienced it in the past from the booth.

Our conversation was a whirlwind as we rushed through topics over the course of a single cup of coffee as Karina swept through her extensive career and thoughts on music. There was hardly a pause, and just like that she’s gone again, off on her next adventure… 

Jeremy Olander’s cinematic selections

Jeremy Olander’s music and sets are a visceral experience, charged in emotional depths and executed in eloquent melodic passages. A DJ and electronic music producer that rose to prominence through the Stockholm scene where the likes of Steve Angello, Sebastian Ingrosso and Eric Prydz paved the way, Jeremy Olander found a voice in the harmonious corners of 4-4 club music. It was at Prydz’ Pryda label where Olander would make his first impressions on the circuit in 2011, and he’s been releasing at least two EPs a year since his first release while touring the world extensively as a DJ.

After an unprecedented six releases on Pryda Friends and one on Pryda, Olander eventually set up his own label, Vivrant, from which he would exclusively release his own music, between releases from artist friends. His next release finds Olander capturing the sound of the label for another imprint in the form of a career-first mix album coming out via Balance. The album contains 14 unreleased tracks from Olander across three monikers, as well as label affiliates and friends like Tim Engelhardt, Locked Groove, La Fleur and Ejeca.

To accompany the release, Olander will be touring around the globe from Sweden to Australia, with Jaeger and Oslo his very first stop on the tour. As an extension of the new mix album, the Vivrant tour will see Olander serve up some of his unique melodic infused club music with a specific focus on the Vivrant sonic aesthetic. We reached out to Jeremy Olander ahead of the tour to ask about his early influences and how he might have arrived at the music he plays and makes today, but after receiving a shortlist, we were pleasantly surprised by his selections.

Born in America, to an Indian mother and Swedish father, and raised in Stockholm, Olander has had a multicultural upbringing that should undoubtedly have made for some interesting musical influences in his formative years, but when we asked him to share a few, we were excited to find that a cinematic connection started to emerge. We called up Jeremy Olander at his home in Sweden, where he is currently enjoying some downtime before he heads out on the tour, to ask about how this theme emerged and how this particular form of music has resonated with him. 

What a great compilation of music. I don’t think I mentioned that there should be any concept to this list, but you stuck to this cinematic theme and it’s great.

I think it’s fun to try and do a theme, to tell some sort of story. 

And why specifically music for film?

I like listening to it, and the aspect of storytelling. A lot of dance music does the same. A lot of the music I play doesn’t have any vocals in it that tells you a story, so you have to tell it through melodies and vibe.

 

Operation New World OST – Big Sleep

 

I randomly watched this movie years ago after a friend recommended it. It’s one of my favourite movies (never leaves my iPad) and it catapulted my interest and love for Korean film making. I’m surprised Hollywood haven’t made a shitty remake of it yet. The soundtrack fits the movie like a glove and is kind of reminiscent of The Godfather theme song in a sense. Very gangster-esque.

This is a very mournful and emotionally charged song. Is this something you look for in music?

Yes, I like the melancholic kind of tracks. I don’t want it to be too happy-go-lucky and I don’t  know if that’s just the Swede inside of me. 

The music you make also relies on a similar melodic emphasis. Do you feel you have to be in some kind of emotional state to make music?

It depends and I’ll go through different stages. Sometimes I have to wait for it to come. At the moment, I’m having a hard time forcing it. It’s more about taking some time off and finding some ideas. You never know when it’s going to strike, you’ll just have to wait for it. 

Do you listen to a lot of film scores when you’re at home and enjoying some time off?

Yes, I would say so. I think when I listen to most of the music I listen to, it’s when I’m taking my dog for a walk or going from A to B. When I’m at home and I’m not working on music, I don’t tend to listen to music.

 

The Land Before Time – The Rescue’ Discovery Of The Great Valley

 

I think a lot of people born in the mid to late 80s watched this movie growing up. It really is an incredible film, albeit a bit sad, that I can’t wait to watch with my kid. The soundtrack adds another layer of emotions that takes me right back to childhood as soon as I hear it. James Horner really was one of the greatest film music composers. 

Why this particular moment in the movie?

I don’t know, it’s something that speaks to me about that part of the film and the music. It really strikes a chord with me. It’s a very sad movie all the way through, but there’s also a kind of hopefulness as well. 

You say you have a kid. Has that changed your perspective on DJing and clubbing?

Definitely. I can’t really stay away when I’m on tour like I could before. It’s a little bit crazy, but that’s the life I chose.

Do you think it has an effect on the way that you DJ, because you don’t have that same relationship with the club anymore? 

I think I’ve settled a little more in what I do. You see a lot of younger people going out, they’re very up to date on the trends. I still think I stay informed on what is happening, since there are so many news outlets covering dance music. I still try to go digging, but it’s not what it was like when I got into DJing with all the blogs and parties.

 

The Thin Red Line – God Yu Tekem Laef Blong Mi 

 

The Thin Red Line came out during the same year as Saving Private Ryan, which obviously stole all the limelight in terms of war movies. It’s kind of a shame because what Terrance Mallick did was really, really good. It had a great cast and the music delivered by Hans Zimmer was on point. It’s one of Hans’ lesser known pieces but definitely a favourite of mine. I played this as last song in a set in Buenos Aires. The crowd looked very confused. 

This is the only piece of music with a vocal in it. Was that intentional?

I chose it, because a couple of years ago, I started listening to that song a lot. I thought it was funny because I played it once, and it was a bit of a curve ball for the audience. I don’t think they were expecting to hear that kind of piece. 

Do you think people might not have the patience for putting in that kind of a curve ball in a DJ set today?

I think you can still do it here and there and it depends how long you’re playing as well. If you have a one hour festival set, that’s probably not the best place to do it. If you have a longer set, I think it’s almost expected. When it becomes too perfect and too linear, it’s playing it too safe. I’m guilty of doing that every now and then, but I try and push myself.

Getting back to the vocal aspect, I notice the music you make, tends not to have vocals in it as well.

I find it hard to use it without it becoming too cheesy in a way. Since I already like to put in a lot of melodies, adding some vocal hook is difficult. It will have to be stripped-down track to make that work, but I don’t make that much stripped-down music.

Does it also relate to your DJ sets, do you tend to steer clear vocals?

Yes for sure. It’s a little bit boring. It’s easier to play a track I grew up with, but with the new stuff… I don’t know why I’m so hung up on it. There is a lot of great dance music with vocals in it, but it becomes too much of a moment. 

Do you feel that there should be a relationship to the music you play out and the music you make?

It all depends on the vibe and the night. I try and keep it fresh, because there might be people coming to two shows in a short period of time, so I try to play different from the last time they saw me. I try to play my own music and I know which tracks work well with other ones. I tend to go through my older songs as well. For me it’s more about showcasing my own music and throw in music from friends. A lot of it is stuff that I made or put out on my label. 

 

Star Wars Episode II – Attack of the Clones – Across the Stars Love Theme

 

You can say what you want about the trilogy that George Lucas directed, but the score that John Williams wrote for it is some of my favourite pieces of music. It’s kind of crazy how important he has been not only to the music world, but the film world as well. What would Jaws be without that taunting score, Star Wars without its iconic melodies and Jurassic Park without its theme song. 

It’s all music that is either orchestral or formed from some organic sources. Is this something that you naturally gravitate towards?

I wouldn’t say so. I listen to all kinds of music. I can appreciate everything. 

Ok, so it was just for this particular selection?

Yes, it might come from me really loving that movie, and maybe that’s why it made such a big impression on me. It suits the movie and the vibe, but there’s nothing about the choice of instrument or anything like that. 

This is a very or orchestral track.

Yes, I was trying to avoid any obvious dance music references like Blade Runner. I thought it would be fun to share a little more unexpected stuff. 

You mentioned Blade Runner there and the first thing my mind goes too, when it comes to soundtracks is Vangelis.

It’s never been a soundtrack that made a big impression on me, but I can understand why it did on some people. I was more of a Star Wars guy when I was younger. I obviously loved Blade Runner, but I don’t have that same nostalgic feeling for the movie. 

 

Lord of the Rings – Main Theme

 

The Lord of the Rings books will always hold a special place in my heart. I read them during a great period in my life being a kid, soon turning into a teenager. I was skeptical when they announced Peter jackson was making the trilogy considering his previous movies, but obviously he blew it out of the park and completely delivered. Going to the cinema to watch those movies (me and my friends would stand in line for hours before tickets were released just to get the first showing at midnight) is some of my fondest memories. The music really added to the epicness. I feel like rewatching all of them just talking about it.

Do you think if this music simply existed on its own, without the visual  aspect, it would have made the same impression on you?

Probably not. They both work hand in hand. The music is made to elevate the feeling in whatever is happening in the movie without taking up too much space. I don’t think I would’ve felt the same about it if I heard it out of context. 

You mentioned Lord of the Rings had some influence on you as a teenager. Was that when you were starting to make music as well?

No, this was before that. I think, apart from the first song and the Hanz Zimmer one, the thing that they have in common is that they are very nostalgic for me.  I think nostalgia is one of the best feelings you can get from music. 

Do you have the same relationship to electronic music you were exposed to at that age?

Some of it for sure.

What were the early influences that encouraged you to start making music?

Well I grew up in Stockholm and it was during that time when Steve Angello and Sebastian Ingrosso were coming up. They became local heroes for people and me included, I guess. Then it felt less far-fetched as something that you can do. When I was into Hip Hop before I got into dance music, you would go to a concert and it just felt like that’s not something I’m going to do ever. But when you went to a sweaty club with 200 people in your hometown, they just show up like everyone else, going through the main entrance, you think; “maybe it’s something I could do.” Because I was into music and into computers as well, I thought I should  try it out.  

I think I should wrap it up Jeremy, and there’s only one burning question. If you would be asked to soundtrack a film, what film would it be?

It would probably have to be something that takes place in space or some sort of Science Fiction. Here again the obvious one would be Blade Runner, but maybe Arrival would’ve been cool.

 

Your 15 minutes are up with David Dajani

“It’s like Andy Warhol said, everybody will be famous for fifteen minutes, except today everybody will be a DJ for fifteen minutes.” David Dajani breaks out in a snigger as he rolls into the second phase of his sentence. There’s a kind of mischief in his voice, like he’s taunting an imaginary audience, and even though what he’s saying asks some very serious questions of DJ culture in our contemporary society, he simply shrugs it off. “It’s a whole different ball game, but I don’t feel intimidated by it.”

There’s no reason he should feel intimidated, because David Dajani certainly doesn’t subscribe to the hyperbolic image that crowds the booth today. For the best part of the last twenty years he has focussed on a niche aspect of DJ- and record culture in Norway, where his sets can go between the eclectic (from psychedelic fusion sounds of Africa to the provocative Black Metal sounds of Norway) to the functional (from the jazz-informed House of Moodymann to the proto-Hardcore sounds of 90’s UK Techno). 

David Dajani might have rose to prominence as the frontman for the anarchic Garage punk outfit PRTLVX (formerly Pirate Love), but a promiscuous youth spent digging for contemporary House and Techno and a lifetime of playing records in and around Oslo, has established the artist and DJ as a prominent figure in the booth. He thrives in the obscure left field depths of the scene alongside the likes of Raymond T. Hauger (DJ Lekkerman) to become a distinguished individual in a counter-culture conducted from the DJ booth.

It’s possibly why he seems so unperturbed by the latest DJ craze, because if anything it simply  gives him more agency to cultivate his particular brand of DJing in the last remnants of an underground culture that has been by and large exploited by a generation of DJs on their quest for 15 minutes of fame. 

“Right now it’s a trend and it was the same in 1998,” says David of a time when “everybody had turntables for two years” before moving on to the next craze. “People that were DJs from that era, I can probably count on two hands today, and they were hundreds back then,” and David suspects the same will happen again as the popularity in DJing wains in the near future. He’s seen it all unfold before in a career that started back in the mid nineties where a teenage David was discovering a world of music locked in the grooves of the vinyl format.

Although it was through the noisy confines of Rock where David would eventually leave his mark, it was actually House and Techno that first encouraged the future frontman and DJ to explore music. David grew up in Hurdal, a twenty minute train ride from Oslo in what is essentially rural farmland. It’s a “secluded” town, but it’s accessible proximity to Oslo put David in reach of the metropolitan delicacies of a big city. By his own account he hardly grew up in a musical family and it was the radio that would introduce David to electronic music.

Saturday nights, he would tune into Pål Strangefruit and Olle Abstract’s shows on national radio, where the DJs would introduce the Norwegian population to the sounds of House and Techno from around the world. “It just blew my mind,” remembers David vividly and it was those sounds and the video for Goldie’s “Innercity life” that encouraged David to ask his parents for a set of turntables when he turned 12.  “When I got the turntables I put on a Louis Armstrong record and a Temptations record,” recalls David. “I put them on simultaneously and I was like, ‘what… this doesn’t sound like drum n bass.’”  

With no prior knowledge to DJing and at a decade to early for the instructional you-tube video, David assumed DJing was about “making music” with a pair of turntables. He quickly understood the mechanics of DJing after his initial gaffe and when he realised it was about playing other people’s music, it was something of a eureka moment for the latent DJ. “I realised I don’t need to make music,” says David in wide-eyed stare. “I was perfectly fine just playing other people’s music and to this day, that’s what I like the best.”

He would make regular trips into H&S records in Oslo where “they had a huge floor of House and Techno, Trance, Drum n Bass and probably some Hip Hop too,” accumulating records he heard on Abstract and Strangefruit’s shows. With 200kr in his pocket at a time when records cost 90kr, he “could only afford 1 record” at a time. He would “spend five hours in the listening booth” to pick one record and then take the train back home where he would devour the record. He was immediately taken by records like Moodymann’s Brown Mahogany, “the 17 minute 12” version on KDJ” and for reasons still unknown to him today, that’s the music that still resonates with him. Although his mother played church organ, there was hardly a musical background, but David “felt I understood it instinctively from the first time I heard it.” 

He spent his late teens buying contemporary House and Techno records like these and by the time he turned 15 he and some friends started their own label called Groovecentral Recordings. Why a label? “You don’t ask those questions when you’re young,” says David with a smirk. David and his cohorts weren’t really trying to “intellectualise” it at that point, they were just a bunch of kids with a passion for music .”We were blue-eyed, and we were really into it, so we weren’t thinking in any rational way about it.” In naïve optimism they pressed 300 copies of their first record, expecting H&S records to pick up the bulk of the order. The store took 10 copies, and the rest were resigned to boxes that are still sitting in David’s mother’s garage today.

Spurred on by sheer youthful exuberance, they did however manage to sell most of their second release and in the 2 years of the label’s existence, Groovecentral Recordings released eight records, including Nils Noa’s first record, “a kind of ethnic House record” recalls David. Groovecentral Recordings would largely be a Drum n Bass label which was the style-du-jour of that period, and by the time the label ceased operations, David too would drift away from club music.

David was still in high-school when the label came to its conclusion, providing the impetus in part for him to explore record stores beyond the electronic music isles. “I started with Rock music pretty late,” says David. It was in high school during the early 2000s at the age of 17 that he uncovered the likes of “Velvet underground, the Stooges and the Ramones, Suicide and New York Dolls.” It was music that “fuelled me in a different way,” explains David. Rock had also offered an escape from House and Techno, which in the early 2000’s had succumbed to allure of popular culture. Groups like Stardust and Basement Jaxx were flirting with chart success while artists like Thomas Bangalter and Armand van Helden were becoming household names “And then they became huge,” continues David “and everybody started copying those Disco House sounds.” At the same time “Dutch Trance was at its peak,” and for a DJ like David who revered the underground aspects of this culture “it was like; ‘what’s happening with the quality control here.’” 

It was during this time he would relocate to Oslo and meet the likes of Raymond T. Hauger (Beglomeg, Den Gyldne Sprekk), Gylve Fenris Nagell (Darkthrone) Emil Nikolaisen (Serena-Maneesh) and his brother Ivar Nikolaisen (Silver, Kvelertak) and Milton von Krogh. They introduced me to a lot of music that I hadn’t really heard before,” stresses David. It was in the city’s dominant rock scene where he would first emerge as an artist and a DJ. “In Oslo in that time, 2003, the House clubs from the nineties, the ones that were cool, they were all gone,” remembers David. “What you were hearing at Garage (the predecessor to Jaeger) on a Saturday at peak time was the Ramones and White Stripes,” but for people like David and Raymond, these kinds of playlists were just a little too pedestrian for their discerning, eclectic tastes and they started a club night called Knulldrøm, which ran for an impressive nine years at Revolver.

Can, Kraftwerk and Suicide informed DJ sets at Knulldrøm that could span the breadth between the exotic sounds of Nigerian Funk to the industrial clattering of Norwegian black Metal. Somewhere in the midst of this David thought “it would be fun to start a band.” He didn’t play an instrument, “so they said you have to sing… I didn’t mind.” David was the co-songwriter with Milton Von Krogh, who provided the riffs to David’s nihilistic lyricism. Together with a fleeting band of musicians, which also included Raymond on bass at some point, they released their debut LP, Black Voudon Space Blues, to some unexpected fanfare from the press. “It was quite crazy,” recalls David with the advantage of hindsight “a band that was as negative as us!” he expels. 

They released two LPs and a third under the pseudonym PRTLVX; toured extensively around Europe and North America; and were featured on the front pages of local newspapers and MTV during their tenure. People were saying “they can’t play but they are really entertaining,” and that’s all Pirate Love wanted out of it: “We just wanted to entertain.” There was no grand conceptual intent behind their music, and in their efforts to entertain their music quickly went from nihilistic Punk to incorporate elements of psychedelia and post-pop on their second LP, Narco Lux High School.”That’s our best album,” insists David, “but the European record company didn’t want to release it because it was too catchy.” 

Pirate Love’s short but electric career was quickly coming to its conclusion before it  really got off the ground, and meanwhile David was rediscovering the sounds of House and Techno in Oslo. “I started getting back into House and Techno around 2008” contemplates David and he suspects Villa had some influence in this decision. Before Villa, David’s sets were still very eclectic. “If I played a track by Bjørn Torske or Erot, people weren’t accustomed to that sound.” He started playing at Villa before it became official and saw the second wave of House and Techno in Norway gestate in the bowels of the basement club where it “has gradually progressed,” to a point today where it’s completely swung the other way and “you can’t play rock music.” 

During all this time, David’s approach to the DJ set remained unflinching. If being in a band was about the sheer entertainment value, then DJing was the complete opposite. “It’s not about entertainment for me,” answers David with an urgent severity creeping into his voice. “I just want to be in the darkest part of the club. I can’t fucking stand that Boiler Room stuff… I despise it.” At same time David agrees that “DJing and club culture is about people being entertained, but the role of the  DJ is too hyped.”

In some regards it’s the late nineties all over again, but it’s many times worse in the hyperbolic mechanisms of the internet and social media, where every DJ with a youtube account is a superstar DJ, but David’s seen and experienced this kind of hype before, and he’s just going to keep “doing what we did in the nineties.“ “I’m very adamant about finding records,” he says, “I don’t go to trushmixes and ask for track ID. I just dig and find cheap stuff that I don’t think anybody else is playing.“ 

Lately he’s been digging in the annals of breakbeat acid and proto-hardcore in a habit that started in his teens and has never left him. Whether it’s contemporary Techno or those early Moodymann releases, the record “just has to have a specific feeling” and although he can’t describe what that feeling might be, he instantly knows it when he years it. It can be a hook or merely a fx soundbite, but there has to be something innately “rough” yet “intricate” to appeal to David today. “It’s not based on genre or BPM” he elucidates and “it can just be a beat and a handclap.” 

For his upcoming month at the helm of Den Gyldne Sprekk, he expects to extrapolate in sets from psychedelic folk to Russian Synth Wave, while in search of that elusive “feeling.” Hele Fitta, Krass, Prins Pål and Rabbit Brown join him on his infinite quest during the month of November at Sprekken, a night which David Dajani defines as “anything else but House and Techno.” 

While the rest of the scene’s 15 minutes are almost up, it’s a DJ like David Dajani that will remain after the dust settles, and whether it’s the vicious sounds of Garage rock or the soulful interpretations of modern House, he will most likely be in some booth, playing music to an unsuspecting audience with formidable results. “It might sound a bit cliched,” he says, “but for me it’s all about the underground vibe.”

Tuning the room: The origins of sound systems on the dance floor

I knew that there was something unique about Jaeger’s basement when I first stepped down the old stairs into what could only be described as a cocoon of comfort. There was something cozy about the room that went beyond a specific aesthetic cue, like the log-cabin walls or the ceiling lights flashing in cue to the music, to something rather more subliminal. It was a feeling, the corporeal effects of something intangible. There as an immediate warmth that permeated through lower level of the club perpetuated in sound. In what was a sparse early evening dance floor with a DJ laying a tentative groundwork for the night ahead, the sound system introduced itself in an inviting coo that confuted its size.  

In the small room the sound system’s physical presence, rising up to touch the shallow depth of the ceiling, was anything but invisible and yet there was a subtlety to the sound the speaker enclosements. It was a very different sound system to those that had been dominating the vacuous warehouse spaces in Europe for the best part of this century where stacks on stacks of Funktion One systems would either confront the listener with a wall of sound, or completely dissipate into cavernous halls beyond the extent of its reach. Jaeger’s sound negated some of that aggression and pugnacity for a sound system that made you comfortable in an intimate space.

That was my introduction to Jaeger’s “Diskon sound” as I came to know it and throughout my tenure here, the sound system kept growing, shrinking and moving in a constant evolution that owner and resident Ola Smith-Simonsen (Olanskii) still refers to as a ”work in progress.” It’s been in a constant state of flux that has taken a life of its own as the venue, the DJs and the audience kept changing  around it and as it kept retreating further into the structural makeup of the room and the dance floor it’s allure is indistinguishable between these elements. And as Ola starts talking about the next phase of the system and the recently-installed bass traps settle into the walls, it’s an evolution in sound that refuses to come to any natural conclusion. 

“I want to finish this thing and hopefully I won’t,” says Ola through a wry smile. In an effort to continue an evolution in sound, Jaeger’s sound system is only the latest iteration in a history of sound systems on the dance floor, dating back to the 1970’s where three pivotal characters were setting a new standard in sound system design through the era of Disco. They were Alex Rosner, David Mancuso and Richard Long and what they established almost fifty years ago kicked in the door for what would become the acceptable standard in club sound systems today.

Before Disco, sound systems had been functional things made to project sound further than their natural sonic sources or for recreating sounds from recordings in intimate and reserved lounge settings. Early sound systems for venues were little more than modified public address systems while small, single-speaker monophonic designs dominated homes around the world. It was only with the advent of High Fidelity recordings in the1950s and things like FM radio, Magnetic Tape, stereophonic and the LP that the technology started to evolve dramatically. 

It was a time of new technologies and new terms like audiophile and discotéque. As the quality of recordings improved with the assistance of magnetic tape, and the new delivery system of LPs, there was no need for an entire band to entertain your audience, and as the use of records and later DJs increased in the era of the discotéque, it would require a more effective way of redistributing the sound in a venue and a culture of sound systems were born (not be mistaken with Reggae Sound System culture, which is its own article).

Leading the way in this new appreciation for sound in relationship to a dance floor and recorded music was Alex Rosner and the partnership he would form with one David Mancuso. Alex Rosner came to America, an immigrant and Holocaust survivor. He and his father were prisoners in Auschwitz who were spared the gas-chamber on the merit of his father’s skills at the violin. By the time Rosner moved to America in the 1960’s he was an engineer, who had found an ingratiating hobby in the newly developed field of stereophonic audio systems and a captivating ideology in the emerging world of the Discotéque, shortened to Disco in the US. “I like the concept of reproduced sound” he said in the book, “Last night a DJ saved my life.” Preferring technology over human involvement, he set out on a mission to create a system that would not just sound good, but realistic too. 

He debuted his first sound system at the world’s fair and quickly moved into working for Discos like Haven for whom he invented the first stereo mixer which featured the first ever cueing system, used by a DJ who is universally considered to have invented beat-matching, Francis Grasso. How was that for an introduction?

The mixer was called Rosie, because of its colour, and although Rosner would downplay the significance of his invention in a Red Bull Music Academy lecture as little more than a serendipitous result of being “in the right place at the right time,” DJing as we know it today would not exist if hadn’t been for Rosie. The Alpha Recordings mixer that is the centrepiece in every Jaeger DJ console today (including our bar system), is basically built on the same foundation of the mixer that would evolve from the Rosie, the Bozak. The Bozak DJ mixer, considered by many to be the first in an industry standard, was developed by Louis Bozak under the guidance of Rosner with the Rosie as foundation, but what the mixer represented as a tool is actually meager in comparison to what Rosner and David Mancuso achieved at the Loft in New York.

The Loft was David Mancuso’s literal home, a loft apartment that would moonlight as a gathering place for New York’s scenesters with Mancuso’s home stereo system providing the music. It wasn’t just any soundsystem however, but rather the formidable Klipschorn system. The Klipschorn design was regarded perfect for this application due to its power efficiency, directivity, dynamic range and low level of distortion, which meant a clearer and more powerful speaker. Although the speakers had been in production since 1946 and its design had remained largely unchanged, it was only in the hands of Mancuso and Rosner that the speakers would be used outside (well inside actually) it’s usual function in an application that is still in use in countless listening bars around the world where Klipschorns remain the focal point of  the sound system. 

“He had basically what was a home system. When I got through with it it was disco system,” claims Rosner in “Last night a DJ saved my life.” Between Rosner’s and Mancuso’s vision they created a sound system that soon set the accepted standards for clubs and discos around the world. It all sprung from the simple ideology that David Mancuso set forth in his mantra “you don’t want to hear the sound system, you want to hear the music.” The sound system for both Rosner and Mancuso was about perfecting that reproduction of recorded music on a dance floor and they realised very early on, that more is in fact more…

“It’s like money,” collates Rosner in a RBMA lecture; ”you can never have too much because you know you can give some of it away. Loudspeakers can never be too big, because you can always turn the volume down.” In one of Rosner and Mancuso’s crowning achievements at the Loft their combined efforts resulted in creating a tweeter-array system that helped spread those higher sonic frequencies more evenly and further across the room, so that even the person sitting in the back could hear every element in the music rather than just the bass frequencies, which naturally has the longest reach. Even though Rosner didn’t initially agree with Mancuso’s tweeter array idea, he soon came around when he discerned  ”the more you have up there the better.” It’s a sonic philosophy that’s still noticeably adopted today when you see towers of horns jutting out high above the DJ somewhere like stalagmites on a cave wall, but while it’s certainly helpful having all that sound on tap, it’s pretty pointless if it’s not pointed in the right direction.

Mancuso realised that the placement of the speakers were tantamount to the effectiveness of the sound. Nicky Siano remembers clearly that the speakers at the Loft has positioned in such a way that ”they put out the sound and reflected it too, so they covered the whole area and exaggerated the sound.” One of Rosner and Mancuso’s underlying principles in sound system design had been speaker placement. In one of Rosner’s most challenging system designs around that time, he became the talk of the town for a Casablanca party he furnished in a hotel in New York. The circular room didn’t encourage the usual parallel kind of speaker arrangement so he had to improvise. “We took this system and made a circle out of it, a whole big tower of speakers, all emanating outward,” he recalls in the RBMA lecture. “And I took some white gauze and covered the loudspeakers with it. They called it ‘The Bride’. People were dancing around the bride.” With no visual reference “people didn’t really know where the sound was coming from.” 

For Rosner, the Casablanca event was an exercise in how a “system could sound terrific in a terrible room” but in an ideal situation he would always prefer adapting the room rather than the sound system. “The room is usually the enemy, not the friend’ he explains and for him the  perfect room would always be a golden rectangle with no two surfaces running parallel to each other, but those are very rare occurrences in discos and clubs, where they occur in buildings with a previous life and function. “The sound is affected by the acoustic space,” and for a technician like Rosner, the acoustic space which was also a component, and something that needed to be tuned like the system. “The more irregular you can make the surfaces, the better the acoustics are going to be,” and in a natural extension of that philosophy today, this is fundamental to the Jaeger sound system.

The log cabin interior at Jaeger, the newly installed bass traps and the way the speakers are  situated throughout is Rosner’s theories in practise. It’s about tuning the room rather than the system. In fact, it’s about having as little as possible stand in the way of the signal flow of the system. 

Mancuso went to great extremes at the Loft in eradicating any unnecessary components between the record and the ear, with little more than a preamp between the record and the sound system. He believed that nothing should be able to effect or colour the sound of the record in order to get the most realistic reproduction of a record. That meant eliminating anything in the signal flow, going as far as not using any equalizers or mixers, leaving the signal untouched, and effectively the record in its purest form.

But that was the Loft, an intimate apartment essentially, which was too small to accommodate the accelerated pace at which the Disco scene was growing. By the mid-seventies Disco was kicking the door in to popular culture, and as people flocked to the music and the DJs, empty warehouses and commercial parking garages were being appropriated as dance floors. Big rectangle concrete boxes didn’t much inspire Rosner and Mancuso’s philosophy of tuning the room and a new kind of sound system started making waves in the scene, one designed by Richard Long.

Very little is known about Richard Long other than that he designed some of the best sound systems throughout the Disco era, including the one that put Larry Levan on the map at the Paradise Garage. A reclusive figure, he passed away from AIDS in 1986, and very few people knew him well enough during his lifetime, but when it came to building the kind of sound systems that Disco required, nobody could really touch Long, including his predecessor and associate Alex Rosner. “He struck me as a real devoted person, devoted to the craft” reminisces Rosner in a Red Bull Music Academy documentary.

It was Alex Rosner that introduced Long to this world, as a kind of fixer for his sound systems and it would be Rosner that would also inadvertently put him into business. In “Last night a DJ saved my life,” Francis Grasso described an incident where Rosner sent Long out on a job, and Long usurped his boss by outbidding him on the same job as an independent contractor. Rosner remembers it differently in the RBMA documentary. According to Rosner, John Addison (Studio 54) had phoned Rosner up in the middle of the night to ask about doing some work for him. Rosner swiftly hung up on Addison, noting the lateness of the call in what I assume was short conversation littered with expletives. Addison in all his ‘70s cocaine-fuelled cock-sured fury was not a person you would hang the receiver up on likely and put his next call in to Rosner’s budding apprentice effectively putting Richard Long and associates into business.

“Richard Long was always only about his business,” remembers Kenny Carpenter, a Studio 54 DJ that would DJ on Long’s systems and one of the few people that associated with Long socially. “He was obsessed with sound system and electronic design. He immersed himself in that. His mind was just on his business and I didn’t know many people that were friendly with him.” From the sparse accounts we have of the visionary, a meticulous figure emerges and that diligent approach to his work is why he is still regarded by many to be the father of modern club sound systems. “Alex’s sound was very polished, like going to the theater,” said Nicky Siano while “Richard’s sound was funky and down-home, and bass was always a big component.”

Richard’s crowning achievement would be his J-Horn design; a bass speaker cabinet that was designed to project the lower frequencies as effectively and forcefully as possible. While Mancuso and Rosner were concerned about the placement of the speakers and the room, for Long it was all about power and a system that worked on a corporeal level with certain physicality in the lower frequencies. “Long built bass and it was far superior,” says NY Disco era sound engineer Bob Casey in a Red Bull Music Academy article. He gave the crowd what it wanted. He put your balls up your ass.“ Long employed this model at the Paradise Garage to the greatest effect according to accounts. In the hands of Larry Levan, Long’s system would go down as one of the most devastating dance floor partnerships in DJ history. “When you throw a record like Loleatta Holloway’s ‘Love Sensation’ on in that sound system you hear some frequencies;” remarks Kenny Carpenter, “you hear some bass frequencies and some mids and highs that you never heard in your life. You hear things in the song that you could never hear again.”

Long couldn’t get a better business card than the Paradise Garage at that time, and the club became a kind of showroom for Long, where he would constantly adjust and replace components, most often when Levan got a little over-zealous and blew a speaker. Eventually Area, Bonds International Casino, Zanzibar in Newark, The Box and Warehouse in Chicago all came calling, and Long furnished some of the most impressive clubs in DJ history with sound. At Zanzibar they called Long’s sound system the ”earthquake system” for it’s sheer body-shaking power and Long even managed to tap the European market in designing the sound for Frankfurt’s legendary Dorian Gray. A Long sound system survives today on Coney Island in the Eldorado Bumper cars dance floor, but as you stare into a stack of bass cabinets, like the ones that tower alongside the DJ booth at Jaeger, that Long spirit is still very much alive and those initial Long designs are still very much in use today in some of the world’s most famous clubs.

All those components and philosophies that make up Jaeger’s sound, and for that matter any other club sound system that you’ve encountered in recent years, are a direct consequence of the work that Richard Long, Alex Rosner and David Mancuso did back in the seventies. The room, the signal flow and the awesome power that’s being projected over dance floors like Jaeger week in and week out is a result of the combined work of those three pioneers and all we are doing today is evolving the technology around the fundamental principles that Long, Mancuso and Rosner first established on the dance floor.

Øyvind Morken retires Untzdag

Øyvind Morken brings his long-serving Wednesday night to a conclusion, but stays on as a resident.

Untzdag has been a weekly institution on the Jaeger calendar for almost as long as the history of the club, and Øyvind Morken has decided to bring the residency to a close, to focus on fewer, more substantial events around the Jaeger calendar. For the past 8 years Untzdag has traversed the cosmic plains of dance music to bring a truly alternative dance floor to Oslo with Øyvind Morken at the helm. Bringing the residency night to its conclusion, next week, Øyvind is celebrating the life and times of Untzdag by releasing the first and only Untzdag mixtape via his soundcloud.  The mixtape which was initially intended to debut the residency, never saw the light of day for reasons unknown, and today it stands as testament to the true versatility of Untzdag and Øyvind Morken.

Together with Gaute Haaversen-Westhassel, Øyvind Morken established Untzdag, channeling that original spirit from the balearic isles into Jaeger’s courtyard, living room and basement where the soundtrack could go from Disco to Kosmische, from House to Electro, Ambient to Techno and Synth Wave to all in the space of a night. After Gaute left the concept to pursue a professional career, Øyvind Morken became the de facto specialist for alternative dance music in the city with his unique “schizophrenic” DJ style and a DJ guest list that always preceded eventual hype.

Untzdag and Øyvind Morken have taken us on an indcredible journey for nearly a decade, but all good things must come to an end and out of the ashes new concepts will soon arrive. Øyvind Morken will remain close to the jaeger family however and will continue to be a resident, but he will cut down his time in the club with playing fewer nights, but playing more significant events around the 2019-2020 calendar.

Øyvind Morken: “The train has reached it’s final destination. After eight years of holding down Wednesdays at Jaeger, I’m trowing in the towel, raising the flag and riding into the sunset. I would like to thank the whole fantastic crew at Jaeger for giving me a home away from home, and for putting up with me week in, week out. Also big hug to Gaute my co-pilot for the first few years. Respect to every artist that has played, and of course a big thank you to the people that came, danced, lived and loved. Friendships have been made for life. The last Untzdag will be on Wednesday the 30th of October. I will still be a resident DJ at Jaeger, but just not on a weekly basis. It’s been emotional.”

Throughout the autumn and winter we’ll be hosting some new club concepts and DJs on Wednesday nights… stay tuned for more.

A new Techno utopia: Bassiani after the raids with Kvanchi

“Everybody is surprised that the club stays open” Gigi Jikia (aka HVL) told this blog in 2017. Those words ended up being eerily prophetic when in 2018, Georgian authorities raided Tbilisi’s Bassiani and Café Gallery, arresting the prior club’s founders, amongst others, and threatening the ultimate closure of the venue. Bassiani and Horoom resident Tornike Kvantchiani (aka Kvanchi) was “at a birthday party” when he received multiple messages from friends asking; “what’s happening at Bassiani?” When social media confirmed his fears of a police raid, he headed straight to the club and was faced with a police presence prohibiting entry and Bassiani co-founder Tato Getia being forced into a police wagon in handcuffs. 

“Yeah, a lot has happened since then,” says Tornike over a telephone call about the events that transpired since the last time we spoke, almost two years ago. The situation was already tense back then as Bassiani rose to prominence as an international clubbing institution, promoting an alternative lifestyle in what was and remains a fairly right-wing post-soviet state. The fairly recent advent of club-culture in the Georgian capital, which went hand in hand with queer-culture and recreational driug culture turned out to be a bitter pill to swallow for the authoritarian state as they focussed all their efforts on the two actors lending agency to these cultures in the form of Café Gallery and Bassiani.

Before these institutions came along there was almost no club culture to speak of in the country and even the city, according to Tornike. When the nascent DJ started clubbing almost a decade ago “there were only one or two clubs in Tbilisi” and “it was a totally different situation.” Tornike’s introduction to the music and culture came via the internet in 2007. He had been listening to “rock and alternative music” for the most part of his youth, through what was a healthy cassette scene, but by the time the Internet arrived he had found an entirely new world had opened up to him.

*Tornike plays Frædag x 5 years of Bassiani with Mercurrio this Friday at Jaeger

“I started listening to Aphex Twin and it changed my perception and then I totally moved over to electronic music.” He delved deeper into the music, uncovering a history that extended back to New York and Detroit in the eighties and never looked back. He felt particularly “inspired by Detroit,” leading him on a path to Tbilisi’s very insular clubbing scene where Bassiani co-founders Tato Getia and Zviad Gelbakhiani were busy staking out a prescient claim on the scene. “Tbilisi was a small city,” back then for people like Tornike who were discovering electronic music, but it forged a tight-knit community, closing around their ranks, with little notice from the authorities. 

“I knew everyone involved in electronic music back then,” says Tornike including the Bassiani heads who started throwing their first parties around the city in unused venues. Tornike got his first gig playing at one of these parties and several parties later he became an integral part of the Bassiani team, first as the social media guru and then as a resident and head of the Bassiani and Horoom labels.

It all happened soon after, Café Gallery became the first venue “with an underground vision” in the city, laying the groundwork for Bassiani to open, which “completely changed the situation” says Tornike. While people might have been aware of electronic music, it was mainly “commercial stuff” and it was only really after Café Gallery and Bassiani opened that “people started listening to electronic music” according to Tornike. It’s reached a point today where people refer to Tbilisi as a “Techno City” exclaims Tornike through a wry smile, with new DJs and even a record store arriving on the scene over the last five years since the club’s opening. 

But with the rise in popularity came some unwanted attention. It was already “a tough and weird” political situation when I talked to Gigi and Tornike back in 2017, with unwarranted stop and searches happening outside of the club, in what Gigi believed was the police “abusing their authority” for financial gain. Tensions had been bubbling under the surface ever since and in the eve of May 11th it came to a boiling point when jack-booted officers raided the club. What were they looking for? 

“Drugs, nothing more,” says Tornike, but “when they raided the club, no-one was arrested for dealing drugs and they couldn’t find any drug dealers inside the club, only finding  2 or 3 grams” on individuals. The club owners were arrested too, without a warrant on some overblown claims of obstruction, which never resulted in any charges brought forward, but what happened directly after the raid, was a force of solidarity in a clubbing community that we haven’t seen since the time of the criminal justice and public order act. People like Tornike, who had started gathering outside Bassiani as the police were carting off their friends and colleagues, were protesting the arrests. “We were trying to figure out what was happening,” explains Tornike who  “didn’t even know which Police station they took them to” at the time.

The group that had gathered outside of Bassiani had started to mobilize and took their protest directly to a national level and the parliament building. It all happened quite naturally according to Tornike, a single collective consciousness in the face of oppression. They made their way to the city centre, elevating the protest  . At this point the group that had gathered outside the club was working together as one body. “It was just people that were left outside the club,” remembers Tornike. “They were saying we’re not going home, we have to protest this.” From there the protest took on a life of its own, as more people started to arrive, bringing sound systems, and waving banners with a unified message of “we dance together, we fight together.” It was a scene that resonated throughout the whole region and the clubbing community around the world as images of the impromptu rave-protest flooded social media channels.  

But is also brought an unwanted presence. While a fight ensued with police “who were trying to push us from the road to the sidewalk,” according to Tornike a counter protest assembled from an extreme right-wing faction, indicating that this was about much more than a simple drug bust. It’s part of a “big game for sure” intones Tornike today in a message that echoes former Café Gallery booker’s comment in Resident Advisor at the time: “It’s a fight between the Soviet past of this country and the dictatorship we used to live in, the police country we used to live in and the future we want for our country.”

“The whole country is looking at the alternative side,” explains Tornike and Bassiani, which is open to everybody from all denominations and sexual identities, has become a symbol for an alternative culture that directly threatens an incredibly conservative status quo that is currently running the country. “They are actually scared,” suggests Tornike because they don’t understand the culture and perceive it to threaten theirs. “So they stigmatise us,”with unsubstantiated claims of den of inequities and drug havens, when really their fear lies in the alternative lifestyle they promote, which includes homosexulaity and a more liberal political ideologies.

After a month long “investigation” by the authorities, which nearly closed the venue for good, and some hefty fines, Bassiani was allowed to open again. And while it seems on the surface that the issues between the factions have been quelled, Tornike insists that “it continues” and that “it’s not over.” It’s very likely the authorities weren’t expecting the resistance from the community or falling under the international media’s scope like it did, but it seems in lieu of being able to close down the scene, they are only applying more pressure. 

Those stop and searches are “harsher than before” says Tornike, with a constant police presence surveilling the club at the moment. “It’s tough” for someone like Tornike who is also trying the develop the scene, running the two first ever record labels under the Bassiani and Horroom banners. “We have big barriers,” he says in a breathy laugh, “but somehow we’ve managed to have two labels.”

Those “barriers’ whether they are the authoritarian forces, or simply the logistics of running a label from Georgia, have not diminished the presence of the club in the city, the country or the continent. As they celebrate five years of Bassiani this year, they celebrate it against all odds with the determination and zeal of the community behind them. Their fight might not yet be over, but as awareness keeps growing and more people find themselves dancing on Bassiani and Horoom’s dance floors over weekends, with music selected by DJs like Kvanchi, their force in numbers only grows. And perhaps in the future those numbers will affect real change in a country dogged by the conservative views of an older generation.  

Track ID with DJ Okapi

South African Pop, House, Kwaito and Disco from the late seventies, and up until the early nineties has garnered associations with a kind of disposal music under the catch-all term bubblegum. Made to be unwrapped, chewed and disposed of in quick succession, the music was only ever meant to satiate audiences for about a long as the duration of a song with labels, artists and producers pushing out tracks as quickly as they could in a kind of musical assembly line. Built on some rudimentary fundamentals of accessible music with an effort to work as efficiently and productively as possible, bubblegum was supposed to be a functional commodity, rather than artistic endeavour.

That at least had been the rhetoric about this kind of music and its artists for the longest time, until a blog called Afro Synth came along and re-approached this music with a fresh set of ears that heard something more substantial in the music. Born out of the esoteric record collection DJ Okapi (Dave Durbach), the blog turned record label and store started exporting this music way beyond South Africa’s borders. Through Afro Synth and his sets, Durbach has been tirelessly sounding the clarion call for South African music that would have otherwise  been lost to history. 

His work as a DJ is an extension of the Afro Synth ideology, bringing this music to new audiences, highlighting artists and records that disappeared into obscurity after their initial release. He’s revived music from the likes of Ntombi Ndaba and Olive Masinga, re-issuing records that have never been listed on Discogs and giving these records a second life way beyond South Africa’s borders. Alongside re-issues and compilations, Afro Synth has also placed a vested interest in emerging music from South Africa with its release of Mabuta’s debut LP, “Welcome to this world” and more scheduled for future release. 

Between the shop, the blog, the label and DJ Okapi’s sets, Afro Synth and Durbach has become a singular ambassador for these styles of South African music, garnering early support from Antal at Rush Hour. With the help of Rush Hour Durbach has brought these records out of dusty collections and back into circulation, making them accessible again for anybody with a vested  interest in rarefied music. 

Durbach has worked hard at cultivating a new following for this music and has recently put his efforts into bringing the sound further afield in a special tour with Ntombi Ndaba and Esa Williams. It was during this latest tour that we were able to get DJ Okapi over to Jaeger for a set at Untzdag and finally bring the Afro Synth sound to Oslo. The tropical sonic hues of the lively South African music kept the rain at bay in our backyard as he played through the archives, going from the deep grooves of Stax’ “Nothing for Mahala” to the energetic snares of “Finish ‘n Klaar.”

We were lucky enough to hit record on his set, and listening back to his set even shazam came up empty, so we reached out to DJ Okapi to ask “track id” and more in an extensive Q&A with the South African DJ.

I want to start by asking you about the last song in your set, “Finish ‘n Klaar”. I remember hearing that song being played on SA radio back in the mid nineties, but I’d completely forgotten it until you played it again. How did you come across this track again and what attracted you to it? Maybe you should also tell people what Finish ‘n Klaar actually means. 

This is Edward ‘Magents’ Motale, a famous soccer player in the 90s who released an album with a producer named Dr House. It was released on a label called Music Team, who I’ve worked a lot with over the last few years. I found the album when I started going through their catalogue. ‘Finish en klaar’ is an Afrikaans expression just emphasising when something is over. I often play it at the end of the night. 

This set came after a tour you’ve been doing with Esa Williams and Ntombi Ndaba, celebrating SA music from that era. What was the response like around her music and Esa’s presentation, and have you experienced an increasing interest in this music from the rest of the world since Afrosynth came about?

Esa has put together a band of UK-based musicians and made it possible for Ntombi’s music to be played live for the first time in 25 years. Over the past few months they’ve played 5 gigs in Europe (France, Netherlands, Sweden) as well as in Morocco. The response has been great and hopefully they’ll be able to put together a proper tour in 2020. Esa’s Afro-Synth Band will hopefully be a platform for other SA artists who I’m working with, such as Kamazu.

It was interesting seeing a European audience dancing to a track like Finish ‘n Klaar, especially considering this would have been completely new to them. What have been your experiences with playing these kinds of tracks to European audiences and their reception of this music?

The songs I’m playing are pretty much all either disco/bubblegum from the 80s or kwaito from the 90s. Kwaito is different to disco and creates a different vibe. Sometimes it’s easier to get people dancing with a few kwaito songs, although sometimes it’s the opposite. In the Netherlands or Belgium in particular people might pick up some of the Afrikaans words in a kwaito song, which might make it easier to get into.

Is this music that has always been in your collection or was it an extended period of discovery/re-discovery that led you to a track like Finish and Klaar?

I’d say most of the songs in my set are new discoveries from the past 2 or 3 years. Very few tracks if any I would’ve been familiar with more than about 5 years ago – except for a handful that were hits in SA back in the day, like ‘Tempy Pusher’. As a DJ there was a long period where I was only playing records. And kwaito records are often not in great condition so they’re not always good to play out. I started playing digital files after I started travelling more in 2016, that’s when things opened up a lot because I could rip songs from cassettes, CDs and DATs.

In general there have been specific events over the past 5 years where I’ve gained access to a lot of music over a short amount of time. At the same time it’s also been a gradual thing, finding a tape here, or buying a CD there.

That track isn’t on youtube and you can’t Shazam it either, and if it wasn’t for you playing it, it would be forgotten. It was a kind of disposal music, but through you and Afrosynth a lot of that music is living on. Why are these pieces so timeless in your opinion?

I think it’s simply the quality of the music – the production, songwriting, musicianship, lyrics etc. It comes from a time when pop music was more vital and more important than it is today, at least in a South African context.

Is all of it worthy of being released again, or are the pieces that you play just the best examples from this era?

Yes certainly the argument against both bubblegum and kwaito was always that they are formulaic, so one can expect that certain artists were more innovative while others were more derivative. There’s definitely a lot of music from that era that is middle of the road. It’s the same with any pop music. 

Are you still finding new, old pieces and how do you distinguish between some of the better songs and the stuff that make it into your sets or the label?

Yes I’m still finding new old songs and I’m always striving to add songs to my set that I haven’t played before. But it’s not always a case of digging for more records. Often I’m simply finding songs in my own collection that I haven’t really appreciated before. There’s a lot of music out there so any DJ’s sets are going to be what they consider to be best. In terms of the label there are other considerations too – will it sell? Is it available to license? Are the master tapes or WAVs available?

The music you play covers quite a large period from the late seventies to the mid 1990’s. Is there a process to the way that you find this music or decide what you want to play on a night? 

The music I play does cover a period of time but it’s also very specific compared to most other DJs. There is a process but it’s not really possible to put into words, that’s the beauty of DJing. In general I guess it depends where and when I’m playing, what kind of vibe I’m trying to build or maintain. 

You played Stax’ “Nothing for Mahala”. Øyvind was particularly interested in that track, and I imagine there is a lot of interest from collectors and enthusiasts like Øyvind about this music, but a lot of that kind of music has been lost to exorbitant discogs prices today. Is it exclusivity or something else that’s drawing these DJs to this kind of music?

Again it’s the quality of the music itself. It’s immediately familiar and easy to relate to – the musical influences as well as the lyrics. This song is a good example: the lyrics and the music are both super uplifting, even if the tempo is slower than what people might be used to on a dancefloor.

I suppose that’s what you’re doing somewhat at Afrosynth, trying to put this music in the hands of more people by re-issuing it?

Yes… it is frustrating for collectors that rare records can be so expensive. Reissuing is a way to reach a wider audience, particularly if one looks beyond vinyl to digital too.

I know that even in South Africa these records are getting super expensive, and that you’ve been finding most of that stuff on cassette lately. Is there a lot of music in SA that was only ever distributed on cassette?

Any SA music released up until the late 80s is generally easier to find on vinyl. But from around 1992 this changes and gets more complicated. In 1995 the record pressing plants in SA shut down, so any records after that are much rarer, as they would’ve been white labels or DJ promos pressed in Zimbabwe. That’s obviously when CDs came in too. South Africa’s cassette market was big and outlived most others in the world – until quite recently a lot of them were still getting manufactured and sold. So for music of the 90s and beyond, including kwaito and house, cassettes and CDs are definitely a better option to find music, rather than vinyl.

I’m thinking specifically of Doc Shebeleza’s “All the ladies” that you played; I see there was a promo vinyl, but I imagine the only way you’re coming across that track today is through a cassette or a CD version. As you dig a bit deeper closer to the mid nineties, is this the only way to find this music today?

Yes there is a vinyl promo of Doc Shebeleza but I’ve never owned it. I got these tracks from the label, probably on CD, otherwise just the files themselves. I do have plenty of kwaito records at home but the condition of most of them isn’t good enough for me to play them out. I’ll travel with a small bag of records but only maybe 1 or 2 are kwaito records. The huge majority of kwaito in my set is on USB, meaning it’s been ripped from cassette or CD.

Is there anything exclusively released on cassette that made it into this set?

I can’t really be sure of what songs may have had a vinyl promo, but songs in this set that come from my cassettes include three in a row in the middle: 

Kamazu – ‘Lorraine’ (51:00) 

Iyaya – ‘Was I Rite or Wrong’ (55:40) 

Alaska – ‘Hosherr (inst)’ (1:01:00)

Afrosynth has also released some new music from Mabuta. Is that a direction you would like to explore further with the label?

Yes, I’ll hopefully be able to put out more new music in the future, particularly from SA’s jazz scene which is really thriving.

And what else is in the near future for Afrosynth and you? 

I’ll be putting more effort into the label compared to the shop and DJing, so you can expect plenty more Afrosynth releases in 2020, and probably fewer DJ gigs. Before that, the latest release is a Shangaan Disco 12” – ‘Ta Duma’ by Obed Ngobeni & The Kurhula Sisters. Then before the end of this year there will be a six-track anthology by one of my favourites, Kamazu – and maybe even a chance for him to perform in Europe next year with Esa.

 

Album of the Week: Bjarki – Happy Earthday

A phenomenal and prolific recording artist; an incredible live performer and head of a trailblazing record label; Bjarki has accomplished all this in a mere few years, and he’s done it all on his own terms. His very first single “I wanna go Bang,” simply catapulted the latent super-producer into the mainstream, with one of the biggest  Techno jaunts of 2015 thank to Nina Kraviz’ Trip label. He quickly followed it up with three extensive LPs the following year, showcasing an elcectic array of sonic hues from the artist. From stark functionalism to freeform electronica, it soon became clear that Bjarki had an extensive palette when it comes to electronic music, and that’s before we even get to his work under aliases like Cucumb45. For the past two years, his label bbbbbb has been an extension of his eclectic musical persona, traipsing a fine line between the margins of the most surreal recesses of electronic music, channeling elements of Drum n Bass, IDM, acid and electro through the extensive discography of the label.

While the bulk of Bjarki’s work appears predominantly in the album format, he hasn’t released an album since releasing three in one year in 2016 until Happy Earthday via !k7 in 2019. It’s a format Bjarki thrives in as an artist, with some abstract narrative coursing through each LP independent of the last, while there’s some sonic identity connecting the artist to the music. Happy Earthday contains all those erratic rhythms, elusive textures and alien sound design that has  followed the artist through his records, but on this latest it’s more likely to draw comparison to what’s happening on the bbbbbbb label than those first LPs he released. For the most part Happy Earthday tones down the excessive indulgences into a more palatable down-tempo/ambient style and it’s only “(.)_(.)” and “Salty Grautin” where the record ventures into the kind of frenzied sonic whirlwind that we’ve come to expect from anything that would appear on Bjarki’s more indulgent tracks.

“Happy Earthday” sees the Icelandic producer channel elements of Breakcore, IDM and Electro into a record that truly stands on its own in current electronic club music dialects. There’s no retrospective approach, but rather something wholly unique with a vision on the future. Swimming in abstract sonic landscapes, where electronic sources chirp and twitter in some artificial intelligent effort in mimicking the natural world, there is something completely surreal about Happy Earthday. There is something uneasy about anthropomorphic electronics at first, like those Boston Dynamics robots opening doors, but as the album progresses, languid pads and billowing atmospheres impose a calming influence over the entire record.  The alien squeaks, squawks and rumblings  explore the furthest reaches of Bjarki’s sonic palette thus far, without over extending that enigmatic appeal his music always manages to exert over his audience. Delicate melodic touches and inviting textures, entice the audience a close to Bjarki’s work, but like the records that came before it shows yet another side to the artists creativity and completely disarms any preconceived notions about his music and his work.

A blatant disregard for convention: Beastie Joyce & Jørgen Egeland DGS takeover

Re-contextualising the dance floor from the purview of Thom Yorke’s lazy eye through a pair of Bootsy specs, Den Gyldne Sprekk has never been about conforming. With a shrewd gaze from the DJ’s perspective, Raymond T. Hauger (DJ Lekkerman) and his guests dig deep through the absolute spectrum of music every Tuesday at Jaeger for a “club night” that conjures salacious music from terrifying depths of some of the most informed record collections in Oslo.

From their thematic album nights to just a couple of DJs exploring the margins of an extensive record collection, Den Gyldne Sprekk lives in the abstract and thrives in the obscure recesses of record culture. 

In the month of October, DJ Lekkerman hands over the reigns of his weekly residency to a couple of stalwarts on Den Gyldne Sprekk roster, and two DJs and music enthusiasts that know the concept inside out. Beastie Joyce and Jørgen Egeland host another month of Den Gyldne Sprekk at Jaeger with a series of concepts that go from another KIZZ pøb to the blood-curdling sounds of Memphis Rap for Halloween as the pair resurrect their Funk Boys alias to invite  a host of kindred spirits to the lineup for October. 

Together, Beatie Joyce (aka Eirik Usterud) and Jørgen Engeland have an uncanny report in the booth, both complementing and challenging each other’s knowledge and record collection as they play together, but where their tastes converge and how it informs this month’s programme is still a mystery.  So we assembled a few questions for the DJ pair in an extensive Q&A that sheds some light on their October takeover of Den Gyldne Sprekk. 

Hey guys. Great that you are doing a takeover again. The programme looks amazing. Is there any kind of theme or subliminal thought tying all these events together in October?

Jørgen: There’s no coherent theme really. But we feel the program as a whole, stylistically diverse as it is, encompasses the essence of what DGS is and can be. From me and Luis (Beglomeg, Passe Tjalla) playing our favorite disco and boogie records to a night celebrating Hotter Than Hell, this sort of eclecticism and blatant disregard for genre conventions is what makes it such a unique club concept. 

Eirik: More than anything else, I feel like the DGS’ modus operandi is playing music you wouldn’t expect to hear at any other club night. We’ve had some angry and confused patrons unfamiliar with the concept demanding house and techno before (when we did our religious music night in April people were absolutely livid), but part of the fun is trying to get them on our side.

You guys will be kicking it off on the 1st as the FUNK BOYS. I feel like FUNK BOYS hadn’t been created yet by the last takeover and it’s a fairly new creation. What’s the idea behind that project?

E: Funk Boys was an idea I got around the time we were planning our last takeover. It occured to me that a perfect DGS format would be playing “funk rock” in a very broad definition of the term – one that includes Aerosmith, Minutemen, Korn and 70s Miles Davis alike. Then the name “Funk Boys” popped into my head and I couldn’t stop laughing about it.

J: It’s a ridiculous name and I haven’t stopped laughing since the first time I heard it.

And what sort of music can people expect from FUNK BOYS and how does it diverge from what you guys do individually?

E: To me the Funk Boys concept is somehow very broad and extremely specific at the same time. It basically sticks with a lot of the usual DGS mainstays of groovy hard rock and rock/disco crossover, but it has a more specific focus. And more slap bass!

J: The concept is a sort of throwback to Sprekken in its original form. When Raymond started out at Kniven his idea was to play quote unquote «hash rock»; hard rock with synthesizers and heavy drum breaks, poor man’s Pink Floyd and the like. We’ve chosen to focus on the funkier side of things and also include stuff like ‘70s fusion and the more rock influenced part of the P-Funk universe. Ole Øvstedal (Oslo rock legend and bar manager at Revolver) is joining us this time around which we’re both really looking forward to! The regular Jaeger clubgoers can expect to hear a lot of tunes they might not be aware that they know. From the opening drums of Mountain’s Long Red to Billy Squier’s The Big Beat, many of these records are mainstays in the sample libraries of hip hop producers, so it all ties in nicely with the regular music profile in Grensen 9.

KIZZ PØB returns! What is it about the band in your opinion that continues to draw old and new fans to their music?

E: To me Kiss is sort of the ultimate rock band. The original lineup was just perfect as this cast of characters and team of musicians – both a cartoon universe and a set of four great, distinctive singers of which three were great songwriters too. Great mythology and a bottomless supply of bangers, what more could you want?

J: Unlike Eirik who dressed up as Ace Frehley for carnivals when he was in kindergarten, I didn’t really start listening to Kiss until I was in my early teens. I’m not really interested in their makeup or all the staff around them. I consider them another great Michigan rock band, in the same league as the MC5, Alice Cooper and the Stooges. I know they’re from NYC, but still. Stylistically and spiritually they’re from Detroit rock city.

The Kiss army is huge and they have some very dedicated fans in Norway too, so it’s not the type of concept that you can take too lightly. Besides playing Hotter Than Hell in its entirety how do you guys intend to summon the Kiss spirit on the night?

E: Based on previous Kizz Pøbb experiences (the “‘Nasty 40 Party” in may and the Tons of Rock afterparty at Revolver in june) nothing is more fun than just listening to Kiss super loud with your friends. For the occasion I’ve invited a friend of mine who has ridiculously deep knowledge of pretty much the entire catalogue to serve up even deeper cuts than we could do by ourselves.

 J: I hope one of us ends up in a fist fight with a pissed off Kiss Army member because we insist on writing KIZZ with two z’s.

Why that album specifically?

E: In addition to the simple fact that october 22 is the album’s 45th birthday, Hotter Than Hell is sort of a cult favorite in the Kiss catalogue that both Raymond and I hold in very high regard. I think it’s one of their most consistent albums and it has some pretty weird songwriting from Gene and Ace in particular. The production is an important part of it too – it’s cheap and muddy in a way that sort of enhances the material for me, kind of similar to Black Sabbath “Vol 4”. Really sludgy and heavy, plus it sounds kind of murky and half-melted, like early Ariel Pink or something. If you’ve wondered why bands like Nirvana and the Melvins were so into Kiss, this album answers a lot of that.

J: It’s kind of an underdog in their discography. It doesn’t have a stadium rock hit like Rock and Roll All Nite or Shout It Out Loud. I mean, the most well known song from the record is a ballad (Goin’ Blind) about the relationship between a 16 year old girl and a 93 year old man. Kiss never got deeper than that!

This is also not the first time that you’ve done a Deutscher abend. What exactly does that entail? 

J: Have we done a German night before? I can’t recall, but there have been plenty of other nights with a country specific theme. Christophe Boulmer has had his soirées françaises and Raymond’s lawyer David Myr played an entire evening of Italian prog the year before last. There’s something special about a DJ set that’s completely void of British and American music, it breaks the mould in a way. When I lived in Trondheim me and my friend JT had a monthly club called Around The World in 33 rpm where we played music with a different geographical theme each time. One of the nights we only played records from countries invaded by Germany during WWII so I feel I’ve sort of come full circle.

E: Stay tuned for DGS Japan Night, that’s really gonna whip ass. Swedish night too!

J: I wanna do a night of brazilian music sometime in the future.

I assume it’s going to be more Krautrock than Techno?

 J: Over the years I’ve developed a bit of a distaste for the term krautrock. It’s a pejorative coined by British music journalists that doesn’t really say much about the music. But it’s gonna be on the kosmische end of the musical spectrum, definitely. My knowledge about techno doesn’t really go further than Detroit. 

E: Raymond convinced me to avoid saying krautrock too, and my techno knowledge barely even goes beyond Drexciya. Personally I hope the heavier, dumber side of german rock – Scorpions, Accept and so on – will be represented properly too, and I’ll probably play more Can on the Funk Boys night. I might even throw in some eurodance, it shouldn’t be too hip or tasteful.

Artist and producer Emil Nikolaisen is on duties that night. Why was he the perfect candidate for a German night?  

J: There’s a definite lineage from the German music of the seventies to his work with Serena-Maneesh. He’s also a great DJ and an extremely passionate and knowledgeable music lover.

 E: I’m looking forward to meeting him and hearing what he’s bringing to the table!

And from Disco to ”Memphis Rap,” you guys are really covering all the bases on this occasion. I know you both have deep record bags with a broad scope in music, but what usually draws each of you to music or a record?

 E: It can be anything, really. I spend a lot of time reading about music or getting tips from friends and checking out anything that sounds appealing to me. Usually I gravitate toward stuff that’s unusual and distinctive in some way, and stuff that’s aggressive or hard-hitting. It’s a big plus if there’s a big catalogue to explore and it offers a bigger aesthetic experience, which both Kiss and Three 6 Mafia do, to name some relevant examples.

 J: I hear different things in all the different types of music I like and can’t phantom being interested in just one genre. That must be like, only watching romantic comedies or only reading science fiction novels. Has to get boring after a while, right? When I listen to a Coltrane record I judge it by different musical parameters than a Slayer album or a Lindstrøm twelve inch. They’re vastly different forms of expression and you have to treat them as such. But if there is any common thread in my faceted musical taste it must be that I don’t really like it when things become too streamlined, for lack of a better term. I need a bit of resistance!

Where do your tastes usually crossover?

E: I feel like our tastes overlap more often than not. Jørgen can’t stand tooL and The Doors which I do like, but even there our sensibilities are similar enough that I fully understand why he finds those bands objectionable. When we did Funk Boys in july Jørgen even managed to convince me that the Red Hot Chili Peppers don’t 100% suck so that’s one less thing to fight about.

 J: Their records up to and including Blood Sugar Sex Magik are great! At least if you can live with the fact that Anthony Kiedes is a bigot with an IQ barely over 80. Anything they’ve made after 1991 is a waste of everyone’s time though. With that said I think the programme we’ve curated for october covers a lot of our musical common ground, but I know my taste in hip hop is a lot more conservative than Eirik’s. I generally don’t like anything that wasn’t made on an SP1200 or an MPC60.

Were the nights a collaborative effort, or are there any that’s specific to either of you?

E: The German night was Jørgen’s idea, and while I’m the one who’s really obsessed with Memphis rap it was actually Raymond who wanted us to do it for DGS. I feel like the planning has been a closer collaboration than the last time, where we sort of brought two ideas each. This time we’ve spent more time discussing it and going back and forth.

Memphis Rap is an interesting edition. It was also known as Horrorcore, but was that just because they sampled horror soundtracks or has it some relevance to the lyrics too? 

E: Absolutely. A lot of it is extremely violent and explicitly satanic. In particular I think the earliest Three 6 stuff is just a pure gleeful celebration of evil in a way you rarely find outside of the most murder-obsessed extreme metal and noise music.

J: Those early 36M records is quite possibly the most brutal music I’ve ever heard. The combination of youthful aggression, heavy drug use and an unhealthy obsession with the occult is a deadly combination!

Besides Three 6 Mafia, I’m pretty unfamiliar with the sub-genre. What would consider the quintessential Memphis Rap track?

E: Honestly you pretty much can’t go wrong with anything Three 6 Mafia put out in the 90’s, but when it comes to deeper cuts I’m particularly fond of “Watch Yo Back” by Rivaside Clique, featuring production and rapping by the legendary Tommy Wright III. The bassline on that track is absolutely crushing, just one of the most brutal, heavy tracks I’ve heard in any genre. Another one I like is “Bigga & Betta Thangs” by Playa Posse, produced by Blackout, who specialized in really dark and horrific synthscapes.

J: Eirik’s a lot more well versed in the world of Memphis rap than I am, but I think Da Devil’s Playground by Koopsta Knicca is a quintessential record regardless of genre. Coincidentally that record turns 25 three days before our Memphis rap night. But to recommend something that’s not by Three 6 Mafia: I really like Al Kapone’s third album Sinista Funk from ‘94. It’s a stone cold classic. Kocane Wayne’s verse on Still Locin’ Up is worth the price of that record alone!

Will there be any other aspect of this night to drive that Halloween theme home?

E: I haven’t really thought about it, but maybe we’ll invest in some decorative cobwebs and skeletons?

J: Can you get cough syrup and Mountain Dew through Vinhuset?

I think that’s it… anything either of you would like to add?

E: Come to DGS if you’re still looking for that blue jean baby queen… prettiest girl you’ve ever seen… see her shake on the movie screen, Jimmy Dean. Rock on!

J: Hit me up if you’ve got an original copy of RBL Posse’s Don’t Give Me No Bammer twelve you wanna sell. Other than that? No, not really.

 

It just sounds better with Ian Pooley

Ian Pooley has been a significant figure in the electronic music landscape in Germany and beyond. From his early success as one half of T’N’I with DJ Tonka  to his work with Daft Punk and the sound he established as a solo artist for a whole genre of music, his career stretches nearly three decades and he continues to be a regular fixture in catalogues and in DJ booths around the world.  

A precocious talent, Ian Pooley was but a teenager when he and DJ Tonka released their first records as T’N’I in the early nineties on Force Inc. Pooley had found an early affinity for the machines and from those primal Techno sounds he and Tonka produced to the deeper sounds of House that he would eventually produce on his own, the eccentricities of the machine sounds had remained at the core of his music.

He signed to Richard Branson’s V2 records in the late nineties, and flirted with commercial success alongside Daft Punk and Mousse T. but remained closer to his homegrown roots than those contemporaries. He would carve out a sound between Techno and House music erring on the deeper aspects of the latter, with the stark textures of Techno ebbing forth from classic synthesisers. 

These processes are still fundamental to Ian Pooley’s records, with the MPC drum machine as the central piece of gear in his studio and music, including his next LP. “It’s been delayed for many reasons,” says Ian over a telephone call, but patience prevails for the German producer. “I think it’s totally fine, because when the time is right, it’s right. Once it’s out it’s going to be fine.There comes a moment when you realise that all the tracks fit together and now is the right time.”

I phone up Ian Pooley in Berlin after he played Jaeger to see how his set went. “It was great fun,”  he says while praising the set-up at Jaeger. “ I loved the mixer. I wish every club would be like this.”  Ian’s set stayed true to the sounds of his records while moving between elements of acid, R&B and Jazz. We talked about his set and more and his set is available to stream above.

How did you feel your set at Jaeger went?

It was really nice. I was a bit surprised when Ivaylo told me it was upstairs, in the yard, but it was nice and a really lovely crowd, who were kind of up for different things. 

Yes, I noticed there were some elements of Jazz,  Acid and some vocals in there too. Did you prepare your set as such?

My usual way is to listen to what the DJ is playing before me. I tend to I arrive an hour before my set and then I’ll know what I’ll play for the first four tracks and then I go from there. I think about how I can build the set and I watch the crowd. 

Ivaylo played before you, and I know you’ve played before in the past, so you must have known what the vibe was like?

Exactly. And right now there is a whole new generation of audience who didn’t really experience House music from the late nineties. I can see all over Europe where I travel that the crowd is mostly fascinated with that sound and for me that’s really easy.

That was actually something I was going to ask you about. I’ve noticed that this next generation is getting back to those early nineties sounds.

My theory is that everything comes back in 15-20 year cycles. It’s very up and down. People who are born in a certain decade always grow up, being fascinated by the music from that decade, because maybe they heard music like this, but not really consciously because they were too young. But it stays in their head and when they consciously start hearing music they are really into it. It’s the same for me being fascinated with Disco music from the seventies, because I was born in the seventies. 

What’s your relationship with the music from the nineties today? Because you were around, making the kind of music that they are hearing for the first time today.

Sometimes it’s a bit awkward for me to play, because they are really old tracks and I’ve played them a million times. But I always try to remember that for them it’s brand new stuff and really fresh. It’s cool that it’s coming back, because that’s also the way I produce.

Do you feel that the younger crowd that come to see you, know who you are and that they expect kind of Ian Pooley sound?

O ja. There are always people coming to me before and during my set to request certain songs, and it’s usually three or four songs that I expect them to request. It’s usually stuff from ‘98 to ‘00. And that’s ok, but there are also some people that know my current stuff. 

Are there different expectations of you as a DJ when you play back home in Berlin, than when you play abroad?

Yeah, because when I play abroad there are a lot of people coming to hear my music. And because when I play in a place like Oslo, where I would play maybe once every three years, for a lot of people it would be amazing if I could play certain songs. In Berlin, it’s more like a playground where you can play more current stuff and dig a little deeper and find gems for other people.

I suppose you know the community so well there at the moment, so they expect something different from you all the time.

No, it’s super open. There are no real expectations, and they are really open to anything. That’s what I really like about Berlin, I can test out new tracks that I produced or that people sent me so I can see whether I’ll keep them or what I can improve on.

So it’s a testing ground for your own music?

Exactly, and Berlin is always on the forefront so it’s always good to see where things are heading.

I remember there was a Resident Advisor interview where you were discussing the Brazilian sounds that you were associated with and how you were trying to get away from that label. Is this still something you are being associated with today?

No I made my peace with that. I was against it for so many years. I did this exchange 8 years ago, so that’s when it was still fresh. I produced those kinds of sounds in the early 2000’s to about 2005, but it was haunting me for the next 6-7 years. I had this moment in 2005, that I said “Ok, I really don’t want to do this anymore”. It was too commercial to push it, and it took me a while to get rid of this kind of image. Now eight years later, I’ve totally made peace with it, and it’s totally fine.

Do you feel that you need to have some sort of fluid conversation between the music that you play and the music that you make or do you feel that you can go and do a Techno set when you’re playing abroad?

O, yeah, I do that from time to time. A couple of months ago, I played in Los Angeles and I played a set that was Techno. But in general as a consumer, as a listener of music, I’m a bit bored with Techno. I think it’s reached its peak, and at the moment it’s just more loopier and everyone is just going faster and faster, and I find that Techno is going to go a bit down again. That happened in the late nineties, it happened in 2009, and now it’s been going slowly for the past  6-7 years and now I’m a little bit bored with it. So I think I’m more and more looking at House and raw organic House.

You make your music based on the same fundamental working processes of the nineties with those same machines at the core of your work…

Yes, I was one of the last guys to introduce a computer to my setup. I only did that 11 years ago. 80% of my tracks are made on the machines, and then I just hit record in Logic for example and finalise the arrangement. It’s just the way that I work and there are a couple of  steps that might seem unnecessary for new producers, but it’s just the way I work, and there is no reason to change.

The reason I brought that up, is that those raw House sounds that you talked about is naturally conducive to those machines.

Exactly, it comes naturally. That’s how they sound. That’s what I like, that’s the thing I want to achieve. The core of my setup is a MPC3000, the software is from 1995. A lot of people ask me why I don’t use the new ones, it’s better to store your samples and your sound banks and bla bla bla. I always sample from scratch, when you turn the machine on there are no sounds, and it just sounds better. 

So where does the evolution in your work comes from if you’re using the same methods and machines that you’ve used since the nineties?

I don’t know. In the nineties I worked really fast and really raw. In the nineties you couldn’t really open and close an arrangement, like you can now with Logic and your computer. If you wanted to keep your track, you had to record in that moment. So the tracks sounded even more raw with less elements. And some tracks you can hear mistakes that other people don’t hear but I hear. So these days, I tend to spend too much time in the arrangement, like everybody else. 

So I would say, these days the arrangements are more refined and there are more elements, but all and all, when people ask me, I can’t tell you, because I just do my music and I’m happy that recognise my music when they hear it. It means that I can have some kind of signature to my music, but how I do it, I really don’t know. I just sit in the studio and work.

Do you consider yourself a veteran of the scene in that respect?

Well there are a lot of people that mention this all the time, that’s just not my style. I’ve been doing this since 1991, since the scene started and a lot of people said that Icreated the genre that sits between House and Techno in the mid nineties, and then I did the more French stuff , working with Daft Punk. I could say it, but I’d rather be known for the stuff I’m doing right now, sitting in the current scene with the new producers. 

That’s the advantage of electronic music, it’s essentially ageless. The voice of the music is the voice of the machines and that can be as contemporary as you like it.

Exactly and I think that’s enough for me and I’m not good at doing PR for myself.

What was it like for you to work on a major label like Virgin?

I was with V2, there’s a huge difference. Richard Branson sold Virgin in the ‘90s and he decided to go back into the record business in the mid ‘90s and he founded V2. 

I didn’t know that. But it was still a big label, was there a lot of freedom there?

Totally. The only thing we ever discussed was which tracks we were going to release as a single.

You mentioned working with Daft Punk earlier and I know you’ve worked with Mousse T. too, and what I do find interesting about your career is that where those contemporaries went in a very pop direction you managed to stay fairly close to the roots of the music. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

Well I had a few attempts. Back then it was the sign of the times to go a bit more commercial, because House tracks were entering the charts. So I did one or two things that in hindsight I shouldn’t have done, but luckily they didn’t get the attention.

I think it was totally cool what they did. Mousse T. wasn’t just a great House music producer, he was a great pop/rock producer before that. With Daft Punk I knew that they always wanted to go down that road, because they’ve been huge fans of ‘70s soul and funk. I knew they wanted to test if they could pull it off and it worked out really well for them. 

Setting the record straight on Tony Humphries

There’s always been a kind of revisionist rhetoric underpinning the history of music. Ever since we first established it as a bonafide subject of study, subjective opinion has overwhelmed fact. Whether it’s the points of contention between the origins of Techno or the emergence of blues in the UK, we’ve continually morphed and adapted musical history to suit contemporary thoughts in an effort to neatly organise often quite random musical anomalies. In the 20th century with the advent of the music- media and business this issue expounded as journalists, critics and record companies compartmentalised music into palatable categories defined by trend or stylistic trait even if it meant eschewing the reality of the situation. 

Dance music for all its subcultural worth has not been spared any adaptation either as lines started to form in the sand with the advent of House music. What was in fact a fluid movement from one sound to the next and occurring simultaneously across borders and musical jurisdictions, were broken up into factions, genres and styles. The results amongst countless others were that the sound of House in Chicago differed vastly from the sound of House in New York and Techno was the creation of three Belleville citizens, rather than the influence of Kraftwerk on a whole bunch Detroitian kids experimenting with synthesisers and drum machines. Journalistic enthusiasm and financial greed influenced the narrative of electronic music, continually revising and adapting the plot to the subjective impulses and/or ambitions of the various parties involved. 

Case and point: an article on the Red Bull Music Academy blog that posed “the convoluted story behind the discovery and remixes of the classic gospel record”. That record? The Joubert Singers and the supposed Larry Levan remix of that song. When a mysterious white label appeared in 2003 with an unreleased mix of the original it embellished the origins of the record with “LARRY 02” emblazoned on the centre disc, hinting in no obscure way, to Larry Levan and essentially accrediting the record to the Paradise Garage DJ posthumously. But no such remix ever existed and the article goes to prove that what we’re actually listening to is one of the original Tony Humphries mixes and elucidates how LARRY 02 officially became the Larry Levan remix for an entire generation of critic, DJ and music enthusiasts with Tony Humphries almost completely written out of the story. Larry Levan had always cast a long shadow over Disco and House, and curiously this would not be the only time it over-reached the legacy of Tony Humphries. 

Tony Humphries was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY and started collecting records at the age of ten. It’s fair to say he was almost born into a career in music. Encouraged by his Columbian father, who himself had been a musician performing with artists like Tito Puente, and a host of relatives who had forged careers in the performing arts, Tony Humphries grew up into music through the 60’s and seventies. His afro-latin American roots formed the foundation of his musical education with an emphasis on blues, gospel and salsa soundtracking his formative years, while he was becoming familiar with the idea of the DJ. It would be the mobile DJ movement and specifically Jonathan Cameron Flowers that would influence Tony Humphries to indulge a career as a DJ. Flowers, later known as Grandmaster Flowers  was the “the single most important mobile DJ to come out of the US” according to a Humphries in Traxsource interview, which played no small part in establishing the Humphries’ career. 

Humphries, unlike like Levan, would set forth on a path as a DJ, not via a club or residency but rather through radio, and a significant chance encounter. Meeting Shep Pettibone, who at that stage was hosting the Mastermix show on Kiss FM, Humphries found himself taking over from the music legend with a single mixtape. Humphries took over from Pettibone in 1982, which was around the same time he would firm up the other part of his enduring legacy as a resident at club Zanzibar – Newark New Jersey’s equivalent to the Paradise Garage. Although Tony Humphries had held a few residencies, most notably at AZZ, it was at Zanzibar that his fate would be sealed. In an interview with Stamp the Wax Tony Humphries recalls the fateful events that lead up to his residency: “I made myself available to the residents there for about 6 months, filling in at various parts of every night, sometimes closing the night, and packing their records away safely.” The manager took note and realised the young DJ’s kind-hearted nature was being abused and installed him as a resident at Zanzibar. “That’s how I got the Wednesday night residency.”

Tony Humphries’ Wednesday night residency has gone to live on in DJ lore, but it’s always been kind of overshadowed by what was happening at the warehouse in Chicago and the Paradise Garage in New York. Although he sound of House has largely been attributed to those places, Humphries believes “it was more simultaneous than that” according to Skiddle interview. “The tracks coming out of Chicago made it a lot easier to do blends with R&B records”, elucidates Humphries in that same interview, but that only made up a small portion of the records being played on a night. House wasn’t just House, it was Disco, R&B and even Funk, and in New Jersey it also included a whole lot of Gospel. There would not have been enough House records in the world that time to fill the 3-6 hours the DJs like Humphries would have played in those days, so he  took a lot from the generation before him, who had brought Disco and characters like David Mancuso in to the world. Humphries would take note of them and established an eclectic style of mixing that incorporated things like “overlay mixing”; blending instrumental tracks with vocal records across genres, in a style of DJing that would be called House, based on the warehouse out of Chicago, where Frankie Knuckles held his residency. House was more a feeling than a style then and what we know as those 4/4 kicks and syncopated hats is the product of years of sublimation of a whole spectrum of musical genres. 

What was happening in Chicago was happening perpendicularly in New York and New Jersey, with the only real difference being that Chicago were the first to produce the records that started to distil that sound of the DJs that were House through labels like Trax and Strictly Rhythm. In New York the sound was coined Garage, in reference to the Paradise Garage. Tony Humphries was a fan of Larry Levan and the Paradise Garage and would spend his days prior to Zanzibar “mesmerized” by the older DJ’s “ability and stamina” according to the Stamp the Wax interview. Humphries was obviously influenced by the Paradise Garage’s resident and the long eclectic sets he would become known for in New Jersey is in part due to Levan’s remote influence, but the genre that would become known as Garage and would be closely associated with Levan, might not have anything to do with the Paradise Garage at all. 

Garage “came to refer to the more soulful, more jazz- and gospel inspired side of House” according to Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton in the book “Last night a DJ Saved My Life”. But the fact that it actually came from New York is a misnomer according to authors. What we know as Garage today, the high energy vocal tracks with jazzy instrumentals and crisp hi-hats, is actually just the “Jersey Sound” according to Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton, and it “owes its emergence to Tony Humphries” they claim. Although the Paradise Garage inspired what Zanzibar would become and Tony Humphries idolised Levan, what Zanzibar and Humphries created and encouraged through the club and the artists like Kerry Chandler, Blaze and Smack Productions who passed through its doors would leave an irrevocable mark on House music and indeed get back to Levan, which the media and record companies would consequently call Garage. 

So Garage is the Jersey Sound and Zanzibar emulated New York, and one of Larry Levan’s most famous remix was actually mixed by Tony Humphries. So did Tony Humphries inadvertently invent House music with the world’s first disco edit? Well, according to Mathhew Collins’ book, Rave-on it was Derrick Carter that made the first proto House record called “on and on,” but that too is just conjecture depending on which perspective you choose. Perhaps it was in fact Talla 2XLC that invented Techno in Germany in the eighties rather than the Belleville three. Whichever way you cut it, there are those that have left legacies and an emphatic imprint on music, and Tony Humphries is one of those characters. 

Going through his discography and the multitude of production credits that have been credited to him, he’s had a hand in everything from the origins of Disco to R&B music, going from obscure whitelabels to chart-topping singles. His story might have been conflated over the years, and he being a humble character might not have been that eager to set the record straight, but his significance on music today can’t simply be ignored. Tony Humphries has made an indelible mark on the history of House music, but the significance is far greater than the common conjecture might have us believe and it’s time to set that record straight.

 

*Tony Humphries returns to jaeger this Frædag.

Basketball House with Double Dancer

*Photo by Daria Chesnokova

Basketball House is the obscure musical phenomenon from a pair of Norwegian super-producers and avid basketball fans. As far as we know Double Dancer and DJ Dog are the only artists currently indulging the genre through their label, and the exclusive vehicle for the sounds of basketball House, Rebound Lounge.   

Over three releases, about one for every year of the label’s existence, Rebound Lounge have been channeling the sounds of Double Dancer and DJ Dog’s collaborative efforts onto the dance floor through records that flit between House music’s bouncing grooves and the frosty electronics of Norwegian Disco. 

Adopting the pseudonyms Double Dancer and DJ Dog, Eirik Fagertun and Peter/DJ Fett Burger respectively have developed a style of House music together with a focus on the dancefloor imbued with the physicality and repetition of sport. Sparkling melodies, strenuous acid workouts and marshalled beats have so far been distilled down into fifteen tracks covering three releases that sound very different than either artist’s solo efforts. 

Their latest release, Rebound Lounge 3 bristles with the same airy melodies as their previous records together as grooves carve out deep trenches on the lower frequencies. From the pounding acidity of “Running the point” to the heady ethereality of “Naismith” it’s another versatile record from the duo coming together under the intentions of basketball House, but incorporating everything from House to cosmic balearic in their makeup.

As Rebound Lounge 3 hits the backboard (at Filter Musikk) and goaded by our recent review of the record for our cut segment, we reached out to Double Dancer to find about more about the basketball House phenomenon and the Rebound Lounge series.

You and DJ Fett Burger have been making music together under the term basketball House for a few records now. How would you define that style of music? 

House music that contains sounds from the basketball world is the easy definition. The sounds incorporated can be a shoe rubbing on the wooden court, a cheering audience, a yelling coach or a heavy slam dunk. Sometimes clearly audible, sometimes hidden deep in the mix. From this mixture the RELO sound is created.

You must be the only basketball House label around… surely?

 It is the only label we know of so far. And it is perfectly fine for us to fly solo in this endeavour and to be special boys. 

But I did recently find a former NBA star called Rony Seikaly who turned house producer and property mogul when he retired. Not quite in the same style as us but he also uses some basketball samples and djs in clubs around the world. I tried reaching out to him with no luck so far. I need to meet him.  There is a new documentary about him which is quite interesting, for me anyway. Here he is in his studio from around 20:40 into the video making b-ball house: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srNRJhK3nGU

So I assume you both play or have played basketball. How does the sport relate to the music for you?

We do try to play ball and sweat it out once a week but we don’t have any talent and are kinda shit at it. I would consider myself mostly a fan of this beautiful game. I love to watch NBA games whenever I have time. Go Raptors!

Sport and music are intertwined and relates to each other in a major way. Whenever you play or watch sports there will most of the time be music present in some form. And when you are creating or performing music you are doing a physical activity. 

The way that you practice, play around and repeat it to perfection, and also the whole rhythm of it goes for both sport and music. Both are rooted in events that are full of life, competition, celebration, and ultimately entertainment. 

How did you guys meet and what encouraged you to start making music together?

We first met in a sex club called Lab.oratory in Berlin where a fellow friend was playing. (You may know him as Skatebård, I call him Gingerdaddy.) 

But we knew of each other while living in Bergen at the same time but never actually met. Later on I booked DJ Fett Burger and his brother for a party I did at Soju Bar and we got to know each other better.

The project initially got started as something else. We were gonna make a short tool track together for Untz Untz Records. In our first studio session we ended up putting in a basketball sound just for fun on a track and we figured “Hey this is fun and we can do something more with this.” So we scrapped the initial tool (that was techno and later floated up on REL02 in a reworked version) and went full on with more basketball sounds from the second session on. 

After that it escalated pretty quickly with five more tracks, a new label/project idea, and the whole basketball aesthetics to go along with it. It got a bit out of hand. 

I didn’t realise you lived in Berlin. Besides the sex clubs what drew you to the city and how do you think its affected your approach to music if at all?

I won’t say the sex clubs drew me here, but you will sometimes end up in some funny places where you can witness things that will make your eyes bleed. The music scene, the long summers and the freedom to do whatever you like when you want to does have a strong pull on me and keeps me zane here. I feel that it is possible to extend youth a while longer down here in some way. And it is easier to withstand the pressures from the motherland to do all the things that is expected of you as the norm. It is perfectly OK to not take a big education, buy all the apartments and settle down if you don’t want to yet, even if you are paddling deep into your 30s. I believe it is quite fitting to throw in a YOLO here. 

As for the approach part I’m not sure how its affected by where I am, but more who I am around. All the music I have put out have been created here in Berlin with my dear studio partner Peter so he is crucial for me in my approach to making music and for me making music at all.

Do you guys make any music together under other aliases or have you worked on music before Rebound Lounge? 

No this is the first time we make music together and DJ Dog & Double Dancer is our only outlet for this music so far. 

 You are also involved with Untz Untz. What makes this project different for you?

The Untz Untz label which I run with Tarjei Nygård is different in the way that I have never released any of my own music there. Untz Untz is more about finding new and not so new artists and show them to the world. Funnily enough more or less all the Norwegian artist we have released have gone on to release on Full Pupp, so I guess you can call us a farmer league for producers. You are welcome Thomas! 

Me and Tarjei live in different cities now so we are not so active with the label at the moment. The last release we put out was in ’17 with Skatebård & Stiletti-Ana. But we might suddenly pop back with a new record in 2020.  

The music you guys make on Rebound to me sounds like its all built on a foundation of House, but there’s also that frosty Norwegian sonic element in there. What conscious steps do you take in creating that sound?

I wasn’t aware that we had that element. So its not on purpose. But there might be a more melancholic vibe on the latest record.

 It sounds like you guys improvise live and then later arrange pieces into the tracks on that record. Is that right and what’s significant about the working process with DJ Fett Burger?

That is correct in some parts. We improvise quite a lot and tend to use everything we record but we don’t record long jam stretches. So we don’t push the record button until we got ‘something’ rolling that we both think sounds good. Some riffs or loops that was unused from the first two release ended up on the third one also. So there is no excess fat in the folder ‘Ghostman & Eirik F’ where the music is saved.  

This is the third record in the series, and you guys have been bringing out about one record a year since 2016. What are the circumstances like for you guys to start a Rebound record?

 We tend to wait until the latest record is released and all gone till we start up again. Then we would watch some basketball movies or catch a game with our local b-ball team Alba Berlin to get in the mood. And then just start to jam on a new synth or drum machine that we haven’t used before.  

 Is there any before plan going into the studio together? 

No not really. We just see where it goes. And if we have a couple of tracks that could fit together after some sessions we set our sights on doing a new Rebound record. 

We are also open to release on other labels but up until now all the material have been used for Rebound Lounge except the remixes we did for Chmmr on Full Pupp. 

Are we going to have to wait another year for the next one?

Most likely yes. We have not started yet. But watch out for remixes and RELO parties that we will do more of.

 

The Cut with Filter Musikk

We don’t always go into Filter Musikk looking for music. Sometimes an aimless wander might take us through the glass doors looking for some innocuous conversation with Roland Lifjell from behind the counter. We know the risk we run whenever we saunter into the little record cave, especially on a Friday when a new batch of records have just arrived. Before we’re even aware of it we’re flipping through a stack of records, neatly organising a pile into possible new additions to our record collections, completely oblivious to the world around us.

We don’t even know how we got there, how these headphones are in our hands, how we arrived at a pile of records… hell we don’t even know who half these artists or labels are we’re listening to. Somewhere between saying hello and a cup of coffee, Roland has forced a bundle of records under our arm and before we realise, we’re adding a few of those to an ever-expanding library that’s already consuming our lives. 

But, isn’t that what it’s all about, indulging new experiences, broadening your horizons beyond the obvious. Surely we can’t keep listening to everything Strictly Rhythm releases or re-issues. We are grateful to Roland and Filter’s resilient and determined meddling, informing our continued musical education through the record store as the last vestige for truly underground music.

These aren’t the records you’ll find on your weekly “discovery” playlist or the records that make it past the ever-increasingly sanctimonious pay-gap of modern music media. These are records that if Roland didn’t pick them out for you, you would remain unaware of their presence. These are the records that make no real overt signal to their presence, very often only divulging  any information as to what they are in an invisible etching on the inner radius of a black disc. 

These are the records, handpicked out of a box of new arrivals at Filter Musikk by Roland Lifjell, this is the cut with Filter Musikk.  

 

Zeta Reticula – Polycyclic Aromatic Hydrocarbons (Mechatronica) 12″ 

Nothing is safe from the conservative monotony creeping in on electronic music… even Electro. There’s been a surge of Deep- and Tech House “producers” that have stumbled onto the genre lately, applying their innocuous voice to a genre like a balding middle-aged man getting political on facebook. Nobody asked for your contribution and you’re not offering anything new here. 

Electro has had this covered all this time…there is absolutely nothing a hype producer looking or a breakbeat on Deep House EP could possibly do for the DIY genre at this point, so best just leave it alone and leave it to people like Zeta Reticula, who’ve been doing this kind of music since 2001 for established Electro labels like Electrix Records.

Zeta Reticula has maintained the fundamental building blocks of Electro in his work. Funky grooves, an evocative melody, a bridge-chorus-like progression and a futuristic eye for synthesis has followed him across two decades worth of discography and a myriad of aliases. With so much music and so many creative outlets, even an established artist like Zeta can lose focus sometimes and has, especially  with those cringing electro-clash attempts early in his career. 

“Formation of Life” however on his latest EP for the rather new Mechatronica imprint is pure masterclass. The bass figure running like train on autopilot; those bold swooshing pads and melodies with their heads above the clouds leave a remarkable impression.

He retains a similar cinematic approach to his music throughout the rest of Polycyclic Aromatic Hydrocarbons, and from the dubby delays of “Double Star” and the punky sounds of the title track they offer a few different moods to the fundamental designs of Electro with Zeta Reticula’s noisy and distorted treatment maintaining his artistic voice across the record.

 

Interplanetary Criminal – Sleepwalker Ep (Sneaker Social Club) 12″  

“Filter Musikk has become a breakbeat and jungle store” says Roland Lifjell with a grin. And yes, looking at the list of new arrivals, drum n bass, jungle and electro mark the majority of new records, even taking over from Roland’s Lifjell’s hallowed Techno as the majority of new music coming in this week. Like every genre today, these broken beat genres are also subject to micro-trends and fleeting-fads, but even those can have their moments like this latest EP from Interplanetary Criminal.

Interplanetary Criminal has been bouncing through various styles and microcosms of music since his first record in 2015, coming into the fray on the tail end of the Lo-Fi House movement with records for E-Beamz and Kalahari Øyster Cult. He’s dabbled in everything from Ghetto Tech to UK Garage at a rate of a new genre a record. If there’s anything consistent about the records Interplanetary Criminal creates, it’s that their not consistent, beyond maybe a penchant for nostalgic glares at the past and wispy textures.

For his latest outing he’s chosen breakbeat genres like Drum N Bass and Jungle as touchstones, spinning them into something more palpable for today’s audiences. Interplanetary Criminal checks off tropes as he channels those classic elements across four downtempo tracks. We’ve never heard James Brown that relaxed as snare drums roll past in slow motion and elongated pads drift by in a cathartic whine. 

The sub bass drawl is etched just a little deeper as a result and the entire record pulses along at a pace that gently coerces you through the tracks. Interplanetary Criminal loses a bit of steam by the time he gets to the finale and title track, but through the first three dynamic and versatile breakbeat arrangements this record makes a notable contribution to the ever-expanding breakbeat genre.

 

Forest Drive West – Static / Escape (Livity Sound) 12″ repress

Some records are so good they need to just stay in rotation and what we might have missed in the past can still make for a future classic. Take this record from Forest Drive West on Livity Sound from 2017. Deep, brooding bass lines, a muggy atmosphere and minimalist construction make for a record that just keeps giving. “Static” and “Escape” live on in infamy on this recent repress. Bordering on the cold UK sounds like Grime and the incessant rhythms of Techno, they mark two significant contributions to Techno DJ sets.

Forest Drive West produces this kind of record with the same clinical precision that UK artists like Blawan and Pearson Sound produce a record; everything in its place in a stark, frosty landscape. Cues from UK sound system culture like those big heavy sub-bass-lines and metallic melodies are stripped back and streamlined into breathy Techno workouts that instil just the right amount of temptation and fear in the listener.

 

Celestial Circuits – Autonomy (In A Spin) 12” 

Techno’s origins are rooted in inspirations from Science Fiction. Themes of space, the future, robots and dystopia inspired people like Derrick May and Juan Atkins to create Techno, but those themes have been lost somewhere in the queue to the club. Techno is all about being promiscuous and aloof today, and not nerdy and playful like it was intended. Somewhere along the line to Berghain Techno’s mandate changed into your uncle’s anorak, and started lecturing you on the correct tuning of a kick drum. Happily there is some relief in a group like this.

Celestial Circuits are pursuing the original ideologies of Techno built on spacey themes and futurist electronics. They’re called Celestial Circuits after all and over the course of two releases they’ve taken back the term Techno to mean something machine made, DIY, futuristic and not of this world. “Autonomy” is the second release from this unknown artist (or I suspect a duo) and it has a picture of an angry robot on the centre disc  – that should be enough shouldn’t it?

It’s a record that could also be described as an Electro record, but if you trust DJ Stingray, you’ll know that the two genres are essentially inseparable. Bouncing 808 kick drums; amorphous layers of a synthetic breezes; and lysergic chirps from a 303 bass machine, transmitting frequencies to outer space are contained on “Autonomy” and “Dark Sines.” It’s not some throwback Techno record however and here are some interesting sound design elements that continually crop up – some with greater effect than others –modernising the Science Fiction themes in the era of AI and interplanetary migrations.  

 

Suvatne – M.F.I.D.S (Sunlab) 12″

Sunlab is a new Norwegian label that is currently bringing a ray of sunshine to the dreary world of electronic music in Norway and beyond. The label and DJ collective comprised of a few young and eager artists, bubbling up through the ranks of Norway’s DJ community made a striking entrance when they made their debut at the beginning of this year with the Sunlab001 compilation.

It was all about B.2 or Brand’s “Juli” on a record that brought a little something different and forgotten back into the scene. With a musical approach nodding its head in the direction of early nineties Trance and Balearic and a group of producers and DJs that are even nerdier about electronic music than Roland Lifjell, they are doing everything on their own terms, outside of any trend-informed scene. They are back with the second edition to their quickly-expanding catalogue and a solo effort from Suvatne.

M.F.I.D.S are five tracks that expound on the first two the artist created for Sunlab’s original release. Airy melodic movements heading out into the stratosphere on the tail of effervescent kick drums streaking across the heavens define Suvatne’s sound across the five tracks of this release. At times he might favour a downtempo or ambient interpretation when combining these components but breezy melodies and punchy rhythms hold fast the Trancy nature of Suvatne’s music.

It’s a Trance record with that distinctive Norwegian approach to electronic textures, like a balearic arctic, if it existed on a different planet. It’s great to hear somebody that’s not doing brooding Techno or Deep House out of Norway and although Sunlab is mainly sticking to Trance for the moment B.2 from the last record might indicate a more diverse output from the label in the future. M.F.I.D.S will appeal to people looking for an upbeat rhythm and hedonistic tunes from their dance music, as it winks at you on its way to sunny isles of post-EDM Ibiza,

 

Lose yourself from Reality with DELLA

Exalted strings reach heady heights as syncopated hi hats flit in and out of earshot. A thin guitar strums through the shadow of the offbeats while languid keys drift off on some memory of a motif. Eventually a voice comes in, a whisper dissolves into an ebullient quaver with the simple suggestion; “lose yourself from reality.”

“Lose yourself from reality is the latest track from DELLA (Kristina Dunn) and Homero Espinosa where they’ve joined forces with west coast House monolith, Mark Farina for a single outing on Espinosa’s Moulton Music. A funky bassline, strings and guitar evoke references from Disco, which Farina and Espinosa repurpose in a progressive House metre. DELLA’s vocal brings the arrangement to life in the middle eight as she skips through the syllables of the main chorus. 

In the House tradition the simple refrain speaks volumes about a night out, in the embrace of a club soundsystem, losing yourself completely on the dance floor. It’s a feeling Kristina can relate to as a DJ and electronic music artist whose music career and work is ingrained in her formative experiences on the dance floor. 

Those experiences have resulted in two music careers for Kristina, one as the frontwoman for Norwegian House duo, No Dial Tone, and the solo career she’s cultured since as DELLA. DELLA’s primary pursuit is as a DJ today, fulfilling most of her obligations as a resident for Jaeger, where she’s nurtured a night for the last three years called DELLAs Drivhus featuring guest appearances from Honey Dijon, Tommy Bones and Homero Espinosa.

Between sets, DELLA has a full-time job and when she can, she’ll moonlight as a singer, lending her vocal to  friends like Espinosa and Farina. It’s her second foray on the Moulton music catalogue with Homero Espinosa and her second record this year. The record is out via Traxsource today and it’s accompanied by a mix from DELLA for Traxsource LIVE.

DELLA’s Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/djdella_official
DELLA’s Mixcloud: https://www.mixcloud.com/djdella/

DELLA will also be featured alongside De Fantatiske To in a Paper Music retrospective as the label turns 25 with a special compilation. It’s given us the impetus to reach out to our resident to talk about the present and future of DELLA, DJing and how to “Lose yourself from reality.”

 

Let’s get right to it… You’re about to release a track with Mark Farina and Homero Espinosa. How did this collaboration come about?

Hello, hello, yes I am about to release my next collaboration with Mark Farina & Homero Espinosa on Moulton Music out of Oakland, CA. The release date is 30.08.19 and is available for pre-order on Traxsource.com, so go get it! 

This is the second time I have recorded in the Moulton Studios with Homero. The collaboration was not intended, it simply happened. I laid the vocals down last year when I was on a short US tour, Homero flew off to Dallas to work with Mark on his upcoming album, Mark liked the vocals, and bam, we now have a killer track together. 

You’ve worked with Homero before, but is this your first collaboration with Mark?

Yes, this is my first collaboration with Mark. Frankly, this collab brought my DJ career in full circle. Mark was a DJ that highly influenced me in my early days in House music. He is a strong representative of the west coast sound, where I resided from 1999-2005. I have spent many hours on the dance floor with Mark behind the decks. He was also the DJ that starting leading me into the idea of wanting to DJ myself. I have immense appreciation for Mark and how he’s inspired me, now 20 years later, we have officially united in House music and it’s pretty f-ing amazing! 

This your second time working with Homero. What is it that makes you two so compatible on a record?

Homero and I totally bounce together. He produces pure House music that is true to the sound. We are both Househeads through and through, so it’s no surprise that we flow well together. He is also a great director in the studio and has a clear vision when starting a session. I absolutely love working with him and wish we were closer to make music more often together. 

How did  “lose yourself from reality” come together?

Homero and I met up in the Moulton Studios in the fall of 2018. We started talking about inspiration and he popped on Evelyn Thomas’ album “I Wanna Make It On My Own.” We skipped through the tracks until we both landed on ‘Back to Reality.’ He did a quick sample, looped a beat, and I hit the vocal box. Our intention was to make a late night early / morning jam. A tune that simply lifted the soul and was a reminder of why we do what we do. I dug into the feelings of how I feel on the dance floor in the wee hours of the morning and we pounded it out. It was that easy. 

Your lyrics always capture the feeling of a night out, and this track is a prime example of that feeling you get when completely enraptured on the dance floor. How do you usually arrive at those kinds of lyrics?

I’m a dancer first and foremost. I am not into this music for any other reasons other than that. I have spent an incredible amount of hours floating free on dance floors and I channel this feeling directly into my music. House music is a feeling, I guess I am able to relay this via my voice and with the words that come when I am in the vocal booth. 

Were the vocals the final piece of the puzzle on this track?

No, the vocals were laid first and then Mark and Homero worked their magic following. 

How much inspiration do you draw from the music and how much does the vocal influence the music when you’re usually working on a track?

I usually do not intentionally search for inspiration, it simply surrounds me. I listen to a lot of dance music and vocal music tends to resonate more strongly with me. When I am asked to do vocal work, the track is normally in the early stages of development. A simple beat and some chords. So, the vocal influences the track direction very much. 

Besides this release what has been happening the world of DELLA?

This past year I have actually taken a step back from dance music. My ears are suffering from Tinnitus and I need to heal them. It has been very frustrating. But, I will never quit this music fully. At the moment, I have this exciting release on the way, the debut of my Traxsource LIVE! Mix, my jam, ‘When I Want To,’ with De Fantastike To has resurfaced on the Paper Recordings 25 Year Anniversary Compilation, and I have two new projects in the works. I will continue to DJ, but I am taking things slow ATM.

There’s been a lot of collaborations for you in the last few years. Is there anything coming by way of a solo DELLA release in the near future?

I doubt it. I am not a producer and do not have desire in becoming one, but who knows what the future holds. I’ve always been a DJ, not a producer, and this is where I put my focus. I am happy I am able to bring my voice to the dance floor and right now this is enough for me. As long as I can keep on dancing and keep others dancing with me, I have reached success.  

I spoke to Carl Craig recently and he told me that DJing was the day job to afford the passion of making music. But I have a sneaking suspicion that’s the other way around for you, that DJing is the true passion?

There is a lot of truth in what he is saying, most DJs are out their hustling hard to pay the bills and to build their studios. I am lucky enough to have other passions in my life aside from my djing (building my natural skincare brand) so it keeps the music alive for me. I am now taking a new approach to my music. I am simply following what I love, have stopped letting the industry influence me, have stopped trying to “keep up,” and am taking it each day at a time. I am in this music forever, it’s not something that just comes and goes, you are either a lifer or not. I continue to celebrate House music and the music continues to flow. And this is my true passion, being to leave my ego at the door, step behind the decks, and bring the flow to my community. 

And I imagine that’s because you came into it as a dancer.

What? Della dances? ;) No idea what you are referring to, HAHA. 

You’ve just compiled a Traxsource LIVE! Mix too. Can you tell me a little about it?

Oo, I did! And I am SUPER stoked about it. Traxsource has been very supportive on my journey and in return I am a huge supporter of them. 

The mix is a reflection of me and the music I love. It is pure House music, booty bumpin, and an all around feel good mix. I recorded it in the basement of Jaeger, which was incredibly special, me alone with that sound system was magical. Also, the mix was recorded in the wake of my dear friend’s passing in New York. He was definitely with me when I was bouncing from track to track and it also features his final work. This mix is dedicated to him, RIP Andrew Hobold. 

It’s quite funky… 

I would hope so, haha. The last time I checked, it is called dance music. ;) 

And it’s very much a House mix, but House music today has so many different interpretations. What does House music mean for DELLA?

Unfortunately, the current industry has completely whitewashed House music and has demeaned the actual genre of what it truly is. It makes me quite upset honestly that kids now Google House music and white bro EDM has replaced Frankie Knuckles, Paul Johnson, Ron Hardy, Gene Farris, Kenny Dope, Honey Dijon, etc, as ‘House.’ Gurl, please. 

House music is so much more than a genre with a 4×4 beat. It is community, it is a form of dance, it is a sound that vibrates in time with the heart, it is the true meaning of love. It is a feeling of the soul that is not found on multi-million dollar mega-produced silly festivals. It is found in basements, warehouses, low lit shady bars, roller rinks, loft spaces, parks, you name it, wherever the dancer is found, the sound is found. True House music has an army of devoted bass soldiers and we all continue to push the boundaries of bringing this sound to the people. A sound that’s been going strong for 40 years and is nowhere in site of coming to an end. It is a sound that the establishment fears because it is the one place where everyone unites (gay, straight, black, white, young, old), revolts against the system, expresses themselves, and IS 100% FREE. THIS is House music. 

It’s a recorded mix for the sake of the internet, but you’ve always struck me as a DJ that feeds off the energy of the people. How do you channel that into a mix like this?

When I DJ, I play music to dance to. Whether it’s a pre-recorded mix or a 6 hour club set. I can guarantee you that I am shakin-it behind the turntables whenever I make a pre-recorded mix and this can be heard in the final result. 

Recorded mixes like this is part of the whole process of being a DJ today, alongside regularly  releasing music and constantly being proactive on social media. How do you think this affects the scene ultimately?

After 20+ years of involvement in this music, I don’t think any of this truly matters at the end of the day. If the DJ touches the hearts of the people, they’ll keep coming back. The fame and stardom dies as quickly as it rises. Instagram likes is just some silly facade trying to crown someone the king or queen of popularity. All crowns too fall to the ground someday. Genuine quality produced music will always remain once the ashes rise. Maybe I still have an old school mentality of: it doesn’t matter who it is behind the decks, as long as the floor is bouncing, than this is all that matters. 

At the end of the day though what matters is happening on the dance floor on the night! You know Jaeger’s audience fairly well. What’s the crucial ingredient to making that important aspect work in your opinion as a DJ?

My motto: I dance. They dance. We all dance together. And that’s the key ingredient. 

DJs that play simply to fill their own ego should step out of the booth. If the DJ cannot touch the hearts of the crowd, then they have failed. I’m a people DJ. This music is about community and unity, not about a string pretentious selections that only feed the ego of the selector. 

Speaking of which, what’s in store for the next DELLA’s Drivhus?

GENE FARRIS! The next Della’s Drivhus is Oct. 12 and I am hosting the House legend Gene Farris from Chicago. I have been trying to land this booking for over 1 year and it’s finally happening. So, get ready ‘cause we are going to ROCK the basement. 

And what else lies in the immediate future for DELLA?

Traxsource LIVE! Mix airs 28.08.19

‘Lose Yourself from Reality’ w/ DELLA, Mark Farina & Homero Espinosa releases 30.08.19

Opening party of Pride Trondheim on 07.09.19

B2B m/ Chrissy @ Oslo Camping 14.09.19

Della’s Drivhus w/ Gene Farris 12.10.19

Possible US tour later this year

Soon visiting my friends of the Gothenburg underground

Until we speak again…

The stranger the better: A Q&A with Carl Craig

Where do you start an interview with Carl Craig? At which point do you unpick that thread which will eventually unravel a legacy in electronic music that spans three decades and some critical bullet points in electronic music’s history.

It’s a Techno origin story with its roots in Detroit, counts Derrick May, Kevin Saunderson and Juan Atkins as some of the protagonists in a plot centered around one of the most significant eras for the genre. It’s there in the late eighties when Carl Craig first came to the fore as a producer and set forth on a career that spans a gummult of aliases, a host EPs, more than a handful of LPs and countless remixes, that even he has trouble recounting today.

Born and raised in Detroit in the middle of Techno’s origins, Carl Craig was mentored by none other than Derrick May as part of that crucial second wave of Techno artists, which also includes the likes of Kenny Larkin, Richie Hawtin and Robert Hood. It was this second generation that would go on to establish what the first generation created as the dominating force that it is today. 

Carl Craig has become a prominent figure in its legacy, with an eclectic approach that has seen him release some of the most significant pieces in Techno’s history. Under aliases which include 69, Paperclip People, Innerzone orchestra and C2 he has released records that are undeniable classics today.

He has been a promiscuous and prolific entity and continues to make severe impressions in his field, with an intuitive and inventive approach that has followed him across his extensive career and aliases.Carl Craig has always favoured a bold, experimental approach which has been distinguished by his unique take on the Techno. Broken beats, obscure alien sonic textures and nontraditional compositional forms have been a calling card that he’s brandished independently from any trend-informed developments within the genre. Carl Craig is simply a legend in his field today.

That legend is installed in the echelon of electronic music, but when I call up the man behind that legend, I find humble and down to earth person who is incredibly eloquent and who’s scope when engaged in conversation can span way beyond music.

He’s in Spain when I call  “trying to pack up all my shit that’s accumulated in Barcelona,”he says in a measured breath. His kids have been going to school in Barcelona for the last four seasons while Craig has split his time between Barcelona and Detroit. The kids have already moved back to the motor city, and he’s packing up the last of his possessions while seeing to some playing commitments on this side of the Atlantic. 

His next stop will be Oslo to perform his Versus show for Oslo Classics and then later that evening, he’ll play a set at Jaeger where he’s played every year for the last five years and it will be his second time playing in 2019. “I can’t be in Oslo and not play Jaeger,” he tells me. 

It’s the first time however that we get a chance to speak in the context of an interview, and with burning questions going back from the first time he played here, we have a lot of ground to cover and very little time. So, where exactly do you start an interview with Carl Craig?

I wanted to start off by asking you about Detroit, especially Detroit today. It’s always had this fractured relationship with Techno in that it’s always been more popular outside of the city. Have you seen that change at all in recent years?

Well Detroit is a city where people are influenced by what’s popular like in any place. But the thing about Detroit as a city is that it’s not a major city for the country. For instance in Norway you have Oslo that’s going to have all the influence on the rest of Norway.

Detroit is one of many big cities in the United States, but people are influenced by what becomes big, and what becomes big in the US has more to do with what’s promoted by major companies, who have the money to get behind the promotion of music. 

In the old days, it went by regions. You could have a big record in a region but it won’t be big across the United States. And the same with electronic music. it can be regional, so Detroit has a movement that’s very strong for electronic music; Chicago has had their House music scene; Miami has their House music scene. You have all these aspects that are influential in each city, but when the Chemical Brothers come out with a new record, that’s when there’s a big major push because they’ve got a big label behind them, so that’s when everybody pays attention. 

Or something happens in Las Vegas, like right now Techno has taken over from EDM, and now Techno is the new fad again in the US (laughs). And that will influence people in our region. People will see Adam Beyer or Carl Cox at EDC, and then they’ll be all about this Techno thing. 

But only a few of the people will actually do research, and then people will start tweeting or instagramming that “you know there’s a Techno movement in your own town, what do you know about that?” Then people start paying attention, because there’s a kind of pressure from others that are outside of the US.  

Do you find that this kind of newfound interest like that of Las Vegas, directs new audiences to your music, or do people still have to dig that little deeper to get to Carl Craig?

They have to dig deeper, definitely. I’ve never been somebody who tried to be predictable about what I do. That means I’m happy with what I do, but is probably also seen as the more real aspect of electronic music. 

There’s a famous quote of yours that goes in Detroit we have cars and music, and I’ve always been curious about the relationship between the music and industry in the city. Was there some sort of impact or was it just habistance that this machine music came out of the motor town?

Well, with Berry Gordy, his whole idea of running Motown like an assembly line came from working on an assembly line in the factory. Juan Atkins, his influence came from the assembly line as well, but it was the assembly line once it was automated and partially run by robots. That definitely had an influence on his music, and his followers like me. 

But none of you ever worked in those factories?

No, I don’t think Kevin (Saundersen), Derrick (May) or Juan ever worked in the factory. I know Derrick can definitely remember quotes from Star Trek, so there was this whole Sci Fi thing that came a bit before my time, and I believe that’s had a big impact on Detroit Techno. It was about equipment that had a bunch of lights on it that looked really interesting and did cool things, like travelling in space. Those are the influences that are still prevalent in Techno music. 

Detroit was declared bankrupt in 2013, and when you started out, it would have just been after the 1980’s recession. Do you think that socio-economic landscape had any effect on the music or culture in that it was a bit more raw or soulful as a result of that?  

Detroit, the whole time I remember growing up, until just a few years ago, has always been in a recession, or trying to recover from a recession. When you go to the center of the city, there’s development, but it has been slow. When you go into the neighbourhoods there are always burnt down houses, buildings boarded up and houses that have been torn down. 

There was always this decline that even when we had a great mayor, like mayor Archer, you still couldn’t get past that decline. We started having devil’s night fires, all these people taking copper off of buildings, and roofs off of buildings. Detroit’s recession became an opportunity for people to make money in really fucked up ways. It’s only over the last four years that we’re seeing Detroit, not only on an economic rise, but also a rise in the development. 

How do you think it’s affected the music scene there, especially in light of the revitalisation project that’s been going on there for the last four years?

The guys do what they do. Omar S, Theo Parrish, Kenny Dixon, Mike Banks, Jay Daniel and Kyle Hall, they’re doing what’s ingrained in them, channeling their experiences from how they grew up in Detroit and and channeling that into their music. 

I think that once we start really seeing a change from that, it’s going to be another generation of people making music; transplants that are moving to Detroit from outside of Detroit. Young teenagers that are going to experience Detroit in a whole different way that I experienced Detroit growing up. I hope that as the landscape is changing it will help generate a new perspective in how Detroit music can be made and appreciated in Detroit. 

Was there ever anything that you felt that could be described as a scene in Detroit or was it like you said: guys just doing what they’re going to do?

I think any scene has to do with what happens in the club world and the party world, especially with music for clubs. You need to have clubs to hear the music. We had the music institute. That was a major deal. It was George Baker, Alton Miller and  Chez Damier that started Music Institute that revved my engines a lot to make music. 

Before, I was going to the Shelter where they played like “Ballroom Blitz” and “This charming man,” but from 12:00 – 02:00 they played black music. They’re playing Mr. Fingers and all this Chicago stuff as well as what Derrick and Juan were doing. But that was 2 hours out of a 5 hour night, so when the Music Institute happened and it was 6 – 8 hours of just straight Techno music with Derrick and Kevin and Juan playing on Friday and then Alton Miller and Chez Daimier on Saturdays doing more Disco stuff. 

That made a really big impact for me and Detroit needs that all the time, but unfortunately that  was the biggest club impact since it closed in 1995. And now its Movement (festival) which is great, but it only happens once a year. It’s not a consistent thing on a weekly basis.

When you started making music, you stepped straight into the production role, and I believe you never DJ’d before you started making music. But you do mention that you were going to clubs at least. Do you think that approach has had an effect how you write and compose music?

Yeah, definitely. Every influence I have has had some impact on what I do. When you are playing festivals all the time, you start making and playing music for festivals. When you are playing in clubs all the time, you’re making and playing music that’s for clubs. 

So when I started making music, that came from playing guitar and I bought a synthesiser and begged and borrowed from everything else that I had. I made everything from what I learnt between transposing things from guitar and putting it to synths. Whereas Derrick and some of the other guys didn’t come into it playing any instruments, they came into it this with just great ideas and a way to programme this stuff, and they were DJing. 

When I came into it, I came into it with the musical training, but not specifically on the instrument I play now. 

That’s the way I perceive your music; rather than approaching it as a DJ, you seem to approach it as a composer. Do you think it would’ve sounded different if you started DJing before starting to make music?

I think it would’ve been that way. I know DJs who just don’t have the attention span to make music. Some guys from Detroit I would really like to see out here, more. They are excellent DJs, but just don’t get the opportunity because they don’t have the patience to sit around and programme music. 

They end up getting stuck in Detroit and want to come and share their music, but can’t because nobody knows you in the fuck they are. Delano Smith was one of those guys. Delano was Djing before Derrick and Derrick was looking up to Delano Smith, and it took Delano twenty odd years, before he actually released some music. Now, you see Delano in Panorama Bar and all over Europe, and if he didn’t make those records he wouldn’t have had that opportunity. 

Was that the same for the rest of that second generation, with people like Kenny Larkin and Robert Hood starting out as producers rather than DJs?

Well Richie was a DJ before he started making records. With Kenny Larkin, he had made his record on Plus 8 and that’s how he became a DJ. Robert Hood, I don’t know if he was DJing out, but he probably had turntables and was really good at DJing. I think Robert came into the Underground Resistance fold through Jeff, and Jeff was a DJ long before he started making music; he was a famous DJ in Detroit for about ten years before he started making the Final Cut. 

 

The reason I asked is because you have the Techno scene that started with Derrick, Juan and Kevin and then you guys stepped in and the music seemed to change. It brought in a lot more eclecticism and it became really well produced. Did you feel you had to adapt what the generation before you were doing as producers and that’s why you approached more as producers than DJs?

When I got into the fold, Derrick never told me I had to make music that sounded like them. Especially at that time, and I think Strictly Rhythm was the first label that is seen like they were really saying: “you have to make music that sounds like this in order for it to be released.” Traxx were around, and people were just making these songs and they would go to Larry Sherman and he would cut them a cheque for $500 and say get the fuck out. 

With Derrick, Kevin and Juan… I know for a fact that Derrick was really upset for a long time that people were aping his style. You had a whole crew of people in England and London, that were just making records that sounded like Derrick. He couldn’t stand that. 

I came into it, where my individuality was cultivated within a relationship. It wasn’t like I had to make a record that sounded like “Good Life” to get over. They wanted to hear something that was hot, and they didn’t care whether it was eclectic or not, probably the stranger the better, especially for Derrick. 

Would you say that defines your music, something that’s strange?

Yeah. I mean Marc Kinchen (MK) and I started out right around the same time. Marc had a record that was out on express records when he was about 15 or 16, and was taken under Kevin’s wing and I came under Derrick’s wing and you could basically hear the differences between our influences, by who we were mentored by. 

With MK you can see he honed his style which is more commercially viable with more pop, and that’s because he was around when inner city were doing all their stuff. I was around too, but I was next door at Derrick’s and we had synthesisers and drum machines on the floor and we were just trying to make the craziest stuff we could. 

That’s how my career has gone with the work that I’ve done. I was mentored to be fearless what I did musically and Marc is fearless, but he was mentored in way that hone his abilities as a pop producer. 

That’s probably why your music is held in such high regard in our community today, and has made such an indelible impact on electronic music. What is your relationship with those tracks like today, especially tracks like Innerzone Orchestra’s Bug in a Bassbin and 69’s Desire?

I love them all. It’s not only a part of me, but I can remember what I was doing at the time. I wasn’t making any of this to feed a musical system. So when I made “Bug in Bassbin,” I remember where I was when I made “Bug in a Bassbin”. I remember where I was when I made Tres Demented, I remember that I was mad when I made that. 

I see them as bullet points in my life, not just in my career. You know when you have a map and you take a pen and then you stick it there, that’s what I think of when I think of the music I’ve made. 

Sometimes I forget some of it. Zip was playing a track and I ran up to him, and was like; “man this is funky, who is this?” He looked at me like I was out of my mind and said; “this is you!”(laughs).

How have you maintained that level of creativity throughout your career and was there ever a point where you went I’m not going to be able to make any new music?

I mean… I push it. Sometimes when you push things creatively, it works against you. I just kept active, I just kept taking my ideas and spinning them to remixes and then to tracks. If something didn’t work out as a remix then I would spin it into a track. If something as too good for a remix, then I would spin it into a track for myself. If I was a painter and I had canvas and paint all the time, then I would keep making paintings. 

Does this mean you’re constantly working on music to release it, or does a lot of it end up on the cutting room floor?

Much of what I did I had as outtakes. But I look at it as experiments, so when I couldn’t make five tracks in a day, it’s possible that one track would be ok, more than possible five tracks would be shit. So I would take from what I did as experiments and the next day I would be moving on from what I did the day before. 

It’s more difficult for me to make music based on the idea that I’m going to release something. For instance Moritz von Oswald and I have been working on an album together for the last 5 years. You just keep working and keep working and don’t even think of it as being releasable, but just as getting something in a way that we can exorcise our demons. 

Is that also relative to why you have so many aliases, so you can compartmentalise all these different aspects of your creativity?

Yes, definitely. I came up with those aliases after I make the tracks. That’s why you see some stuff only come out as one thing. Like Innerzone Orchestra, there’s only ever been one Innerzone Orchestra record. There’s only some releases that have more than one release, like 69 and Paperclip People. 

That makes it difficult to do a 69 album (for instance). I’m not going to be able to do a 69 album. I’ve already tried that, and it’s not happening, because the influence doesn’t come from me making 69 tracks; the influence comes from me watching tv, acting silly and doing stupid stuff and then something great comes out. If I work on thirty tracks in ten days, there could be five tracks that actually work and those tracks might feel like 69, or Innerzone Orchestra.

I want to ask you about your last album Versus, because it ties into why you’re coming to Oslo. That album was very different from anything else you’ve done in the past, because it was very orchestrated and very bold. Is that the future of Carl Craig and where you want to go with your sound?

Growing up in the seventies, there were a few ways of hearing music: One was radio, another one was TV on Saturday and the other one was in an elevator. So whenever I went into a big building with my parents there would be muzak (elevator music) playing. It was always this orchestrated versions of pop songs. 

As a kid when I would hear an orchestrated version of a Dionne Warwick song, and I’d know the original, my logic for them to get an orchestra together to do a version of the song, would mean that the song was important. That is how I was indoctrinated in elevator music to be interested in orchestral music. Not only that, but I did play concert bass when I was in high school. 

That’s very interesting because obviously Brian Eno was very influenced by Muzak as well, but he went completely the opposite way as in it was music that could also be completely ignored, where as you specifically focussed on the aspect of it that is bold and has to be heard.

When I started doing these orchestral shows I worked with Franceso Tristano on all the stuff and this is a person who is not a very imposing person, but when he plays you have to listen. 

So that has had an influence on me as well, especially coming in and doing these orchestral scores and performances, because I’ll walk in and I’ll know all the players are going to be masters of their instruments, whereas I’m not, but I’m the composer. I have to trust the ability of these players. 

Part of getting their attention when Francesco did those scores, was to make the scores interesting and strong for those players who want to play it. It had to be something that grabbed their attention and that’s part of something that can be heard in the Versus record. It had to be interesting on a player’s level and whatever I had added after the fact with electronics, made it come together maybe in a bit more of a cohesive way. 

Your doing the show for Oslo classics.

I love coming to Oslo anyway. Any opportunity that we have to do Versus, I’m totally up for doing it, because every performance I learn something else. Whatever I learned from this I’ll be able to take into my future productions. 

You’ll be playing Jaeger after the show. How do you plan on bridging that gap from the live performance onto the dance floor?

Jaeger feels great, I always have a lot of fun when I’m there. 

Do you feel you have to adapt your sets at all when playing this side of the atlantic?

No I do what I do. If I feel a vibe that’s different, I might try to adapt to that vibe, but people come to see Carl Craig, so I try to give them what Carl Craig is into at the time. 

How has your relationship between DJing and production changed over time, do you feel more drawn to the composition side of things or are you leaning more towards DJing of late?

DJing is my day job (laughs). That’s what I learnt a long time ago; You gotta get out on the road, because that’s how people get to know about your music and that’s your job, to promote the music. There’s not going to be two performances every week when I do the orchestra, DJing is what does it. 

 

Five seminal Paul Johnson tracks by Daniel Gude

“Down, down down, d-down … D-d-down, do-do-do-down… Down, down, down, down.” You’ve heard, and very likely mumbled along to those lyrics before. For a while Paul Johnson’s “Get Get Down” was a House anthem and for a generation dreaming of Ibiza through the portal of  MTV it became synonymous with their informative experiences with House music and the4r dance floor. You couldn’t escape the infectious funky bassline and the incessant (bordering on exasperating) vocal that became the unavoidable earworm imbedded in the conscious of everybody that’s been on a dance floor in the last twenty years.

Although “Get Get Down” had established and enshrined the legacy of Paul Johnson for a whole generation of House aficionados, that song is the mere tip of an iceberg that extends deep into the roots of House music in Chicago where he remains a steadfast presence anchored to the underground ideologies that first established the genre in the late nineteen eighties. 

Around the start of House music, Paul Johnson would arrive on the scene as a breakdancer and later a DJ, mixing two turntables, cassettes and a four track player. “Paul was one of the first to sample R&B songs that were out there over his own beats,” Gant Garrard (aka Gantman) told Chicago’s 5 Mag in an interview from 2006. That’s how Paul invented what would become Ghetto House, a sound that would evolve into Ghetto Tech and eventually even Footwork, disseminating Paul’s modest influence all over House music in the USA for at least two generations. 

Over the course of hundreds of records, most of which he’d forgotten about over the years, Paul Johnson has made an impact and established a legacy that lives way beyond the stuttering lyricism of his biggest track “Get get down,” without taking away anything from the might of that track. It might have been the track that was responsible for sending Paul Johonson’s career on a very different trajectory towards a more mainstream audience, but it’s the records he’s released before and after that have installed him in the House music lexicon as one of the genre’s more unique entities. 

Paul Johnson has made many contributions in Daniel Gude’s extensive record collection. As a producer and DJ Paul Johnson’s humble legacy and significant contributions to House music is exactly the kind of spirit that Daniel Gude wants to perpetuate through his Retro concept. With the Chicago legend’s imminent arrival we asked Daniel Gude to pick a few Paul Johnson favourites out of the extensive wall of records that line his impressive record collection. 

*Paul Johnson plays Retro this Thursday

 

Paul Johnson – Feel My M.F. Bass

Dance Mania, 1994

Daniel Gude: “C’mon now! Ghetto Tech at it’s best IMO”

 

Paul Johnson’s 1994 sub quencher still stands as a unique testament to the House genre. The bold ghetto lyricism and thunderous kick leave no room for negotiation as it forces you into the middle of the floor in that indeterminable sweet spot, where the low frequencies physical effect as its strongest. This is body music at its best and the first record on Dance Mania that established a relationship between the artist and the label that still lasts today.  

 

Paul Johnson – So Much

Dust Traxx – 1998

Daniel Gude: “I think this is a favourite of mine because it’s a cool picture disc 12” that I’ve had in my bag for 20 years now. Both the song and the record is sexy”

This record is a seductress. It tosses between the funky grooves, the charming chirping keys and the sultry vocals luring the listener between the sheets. There’s an infectious groove to this track focussing on that live bass line bouncing between the beats and the keys, adding to the sensual air Mr. Johnson perpetuates on the track.

 

Paul Johnson – Play with My Bassline

Dopewax – 2017

Daniel Gude: “I like Paul’s diversity and longevity. This cool acid track from 2017 is a great example of that”

Paul Johnson has never taken so much as a break from making and releasing music all these years. He seems as prolific today as he was in the beginning, and has retained a unique quality to his music. Bringing a more than insinuating vocal into the mix, Johnson often juxtaposes the serious production of his music with a playful hook, making for a more approachable House track each time. He’s very rarely pandered to trends or styles and thus a track like this from two years ago sits effortlessly alongside his earliest records giving his whole discography a timeless quality.

 

Paul Johnson – After Dark

ACV – 1996

Daniel Gude: “Just drums. But raw and funky just the way Paul does it” 

Taken from Paul’s pragmatically titled sophomore LP, “After Dark” is a DJ tool at its best. It really shows the versatility of the artist who is able to coax all of this from nothing more than a drum machine. The polyrhythmic display is a testament to the legacy of House music with its roots firmly planted in the rich musical styles that came before it like Funk and Soul. Paul Johnson adds a human flair to this machine music, as if Gregory C. Coleman is sitting at the kit. Even though it’s most likely sequenced through a machine, there’s very little that’s mechanical about this. It’s an incredibly organic and very beguiling track. 

 

Paul Johnson – Get Get Down

Moody Recordings – 1999

Daniel Gude: “It’s a favourite because it ALWAYS gets the club go crazy. Any club, any crowd. And I don’t find it cheesy although it appeals to everyone”

Everything comes back to “Get Get Down.” It’s popular for a reason and even at the height of its popularity people couldn’t get enough of it. More than that, it’s an archetypal Paul Johnson track. No other producer sounds like Paul Johnson; those funky basslines, the energetic percussion and the existential vocal snippets, all add a distinctive flair that might have been co-opted by genres as far afield as footwork, but retains a unique quality that can only be a Paul Johnson track.  

A perpetual voyage of sonic discovery with Mungolian Jet Set

Travelling through the absolute recesses of the musical cosmos, the Norwegian music duo, Mungolian Jet Set have charted a course through a wormhole of contemporary music. Pål “Strangefruit” Nyhus and Knut Sævik are a pair of intrepid intergalactic explorers of sound, whose combined musical heritage has made them one of the most unique musical entities operating in the vast sphere of electronic music today.  

Ever since a serendipitous meeting in 2002, Pål and Knut have been making music as Mungolian Jet Set with a distinctive flair for the exotic, the psychedelic and dub in their music. Over three LPs, a handful of EPs and on the few occasions that they’ve acquiesced to a remix, Mungolian Jet Set’s music flits between Cosmic Disco, Krautrock, and Prog Rock existing like a musical black hole between these genres, slowly consuming them in the musical unknown beyond the event horizon that is Mungolian Jet Set. 

*Mungolian Jet Set play Jaeger for the Boiler Room Weekender

 

Before Mungolian Jet Set Pål and Knut were two established fixtures on Norway’s music scene, arriving in the same scene in Oslo from two different points. Pål originally from Hamar, just a horse and cart ride away into rural Norway north of Oslo, came to music through DJing, and lists Prins Thomas as one of his protegés. A key touchstone for almost every music- or record enthusiast in Norway, Pål had become a prominent selector in Oslo and by the early 2000’s he had a regular show on national radio station P3, where he would meet Knut.  

Knut, a multi-instrumentalist and producer from Ørsto on the west coast of Norway had made his first impressions in the world of Hip Hop as one third of Side Brok with Skatebård, and had already staked his claim as a producer working with avant garde acts like Gork. Knut was appearing on Pål’s Strangefruit radio show with his latest musical incarnation, the downtempo exotica of John Storm N Da Kid, “which triggered some of the same ideas I had for music,” remembers Pål in an interview with this blog.

“There was something that I liked which had these enormous dimensions to it in the way it was layered.” The pair had initially got to know each other through Oslo’s clubbing community, but arriving at the scene from “opposing branches” they were usually “battling and competing against each other” for the same small stake. “Then we decided to become one,” Pål told Magnetic Mag, “join together and make something better. Now we just pretend that we’re friends.”  

Joking aside, it was exactly Pål and Knut’s clashing of musical tastes that informed the bedrock of Mungolian Jet Set’s sound. Where their musical dialect converged, or probably more likely veered from the other, they created a vortex of sound, that simply consumed everything in its path in heady arrangements that took on lysergic shapes on the dance floor and beyond it. 

“What I like about Knut is that he’s totally open minded,” Pål told us. “His background is kind of a weird mixture. He’s heavily into Russian Classical music, but at the same time he has kind of an open ear for pop music.” It’s Knut’s open ear that does much of the  musical direction of the group where he’s “always building a big sound,” according to a Resident Advisor interview. “Personally I’m very interested in orchestral and large ensemble music,” says Knut, but the big arrangements and grandiose compositions in the music of Mungolian Jet Set is just one small part in the final execution that ties it all together. 

At the heart of their appeal lies a diversity and dynamism that stems from their eclectic background. Before Mungolian Jet Set, Pål had made an indefinable mark as a DJ in Oslo, and with a radio show and gigs all around Norway, Europe and even Asia, all that could be accomplished in that realm had been, and he began exploring new challenges from a pair of turntables. He started DJing in the context of a Jazz band, playing records alongside live musicians like Bugge Wesseltoft,  opening Pål “up to another way of thinking about the way you can use turntables in a band context.” What he realised then he told RA is “very important to the way we approach sound in what we’re doing with the Mungolian Jet Set.”

Dubby progressions swirl and eddy around laconic rhythm sections, drifting off untethered into parallel dimensions. Textures floating through an ether of extemporised expression, create exotic atmospheres, informed by esoteric sounds sampled and co-opted from Pål and Knut’s extensive musical library. 

“We usually move around in the genres of fantasy, munglore or discopop with a slab of mungishness” Knut said in a jocular effort to define his music to a journalist at earmilk. Pål is a bit more pragmatic about the approach however:  “I have always been fond of the club sound that was quite apparent in the ‘90s,” explained Pål in a Factmag article as he attempted  to whittle down the sonic influences of the band. “Labels and artists like Garth, Grayhound, Dubtribe, the Wicked parties and the Californian underground vibe were hugely influential to me as a DJ. I like the way it fused the psychedelic hippy vibe with the dub-enhanced disco sound. Some of the Bergen stuff that came out in the same era, especially early Røyksopp and the works of Erot and Bjørn Torske, were kind of similar but a tad more ‘innocent’ and ‘inexperienced’. Maybe it reflects in our pieces as well.”

The fact is that there is no way in defining their sound other than a fusion of ideas on their perpetual journey of sonic discovery through an intergalactic music multiverse. While their first LP, “Beauty Came to Us in Stone” was lingering on the fringes of Jazz, their 2011 masterpiece, “Schlungs“ sounded more like the cosmic sounds of Norwegian Disco passing through the darkened void of Neu!’s cement mixer. 

“Some people don’t get our music the first time around,” Pål told Magnetic Mag. With so many different elements informing their work, there’s much to decipher in the music of Mungolian Jet Set, and for an audience that perhaps is more attuned to definitive categorisation, every new bar, phrase or track is a new challenge to unravel. “Take someone who’s really into something, say techno or electro,” says Pål. “If you put a third kind of track in between those two kinds of tracks, somebody’s going to say that doesn’t make sense. People need to label things. We are against that kind of thinking.”

“We try to do something different for each track,” adds Knut, but “it’s not always an easy process,” when you trying to force all these diverse influences and cues into each track. This is the source from which Mungolian Jet Set’s psychedelic sound arrives, piecing together elements that naturally clash into some abstract 3-D assemblage that refuses to maintain any familiar form. Songs like “The Ghost of Cauldron M / I Cannot live in Sin” or It Ain’t Necessarily evil” seems to be expounding on the next idea before the current idea is fully formed. 

“In a sense we’re very much maximalists instead of minimalists” explains Pål in RA. “It doesn’t mean that every track has to be full on, but our music has a story telling quality to it.” There’s a sense of theatre to the Mungolian Jet Set sound, something Pål suggests is Monty Python-esque and might have some ground in Pål’s approach to the music who Knut says is “always thinking characters—like if a band played this, what would they look like and what would their names be.“

Imagery like this is something that has been with Pål ever since he started DJing and it’s a story he often recounts in interviews. Hearing the sounds of the Paradise Garage in New York in rural Norway for the first time, Pål compared it to a spaceship landing in the middle of farmland, but with no possible way of knowing what a city like New York sounded like, Pål has always relied on his imagination when it comes to music. “I think a lot of Norwegian dance songs originally were kinds of musical fantasies about New York, Africa or whatever,” Pål told Factmag. Taking these imaginary sojourns across the globe accentuates that sense of theatre in the Mungolian Jet Set sound, with Pål and Knut ensuring that these references are boldly orchestrated in their music.

“Everything is prominent in our music,” explained Pål in earmilk. They emphasise these exotic hues through instrumentation, but also samples, with Knut usually at the helm of the arrangement and the final composition of each track. They try and play as much as possible between them, but also rely heavily on sampled sounds, but “the sampled sounds are more a part of an orchestration process which comes in later” according to Knut.

“The way we work together, when it comes to the typical sound, everything is done by Knut,” elucidated Pål in  RA. “He knows the studio in and out. My input is maybe more the free thinking. I think like a DJ.” Knut will be at hand on the Mungolian Jet Set sound “from the arranging and composing side” and will let Pål improvise freely until he hears something specific to which he’ll tell Pål; “that’s it—stop.” 

Between Pål’s free spirited composition and Knut’s controlled arrangements, they’ve found  a sound that can migrate across musical borders, often for whole LPs, but retain the elusive, schizophrenic charm of the Mungolian Jet Set sound, a sound that lives beyond time and space. It’s a sound that’s in infinite motion on that perpetual voyage of sonic discovery. 

They’re only regret according to Knut is that “sometimes I think we don’t experiment enough.” A bold claim from one of the last few avant garde artists working in popular music. They haven’t made any new music since 2016’s “A City so Convenient,” which saw them travel to new destinations through their music yet again. There are whispers that they’re back in the studio circulating in Oslo DJ rumor mill, so a new EP or even an LP might be on the cards in the not too distant future.. 

There’s nobody that could ever sound like Mungolian Jet Set, they are a force onto their own and their music has a tendency to challenge any musical trends, and lets hope Pål’s words ring true when he told Magnetic Mag: “Our aim musically is to stay around for a while. We hope to be doing this when we’re in our 70s. I mean… The Rolling Stones are still playing.”

Arctic Funk with Fjordfunk

A woeful slide guitar and an elastic bass synthesiser find some harmonious connection across the firmament of sparkling hi-hats as windswept pads streak across an arrangement like the aurora borealis. A fusion of guitars, harmonica, drum machines and synthesisers, encased in magnificent layers of frosty textures entice, intrigue and charm their way through a progression. It’s only the opening bars of “Da Strarga Tora” the first track of Fjordfunk’s debut LP and any resistance to the rest of the record is in vain as you’re swept into its sonic embrace. 

This is what Funk sounds like beyond the arctic circle, through the ears of a DJ and producer that climbed the ranks of Norwegian Disco in the 1990’s and soundtracked the sounds on northern Norway throughout the early 2000’s. After an 11-year hiatus Jann Dahle returns to the recorded format to finally make his debut on the longer player format as Fjordfunk. 

Dahle picks up from where he left the Fjordfunk alias with “Infinite Zest,” an LP that condenses a vast musical universe, from Dub to Disco, Rock to Jazz, to an indistinguishable thread that defies categorisation. “I just wanted an album that I could play at home and also in the car,” explains Dahle over a telephone call from Harstad where he’s lived for the last six years. He returned home to Harstad after living in Berlin for eight years during a time he “played all the clubs in Berlin” and “got to know Berlin as a city, not just a tourist,” before turning gravely ill and taking a permanent break from music. 

“I got very sick and I had to dedicate my life to that,” explains Dahle in a tone that shows no signs of regret. He had spent two years on dialysis waiting for a new kidney, and had fractured his back in six places, rendering no time to make or play music. It took him years to recuperate and although DJing is still inconceivable with six spinal fractures, he has returned to music with with the release of this LP and more releases pegged for the very near future. 

Jann Dahle started making music in 1992  in Tromsø when he moved there to study law. It was a fortuitous time to be making music in Tromsø as the critical point for a burgeoning Disco and House scene that would eventually spread around the globe. “I met Rune (Linbæk), Bjørn (Torske) and Kolbjørn (Lyslo aka Doc L Junior) and I started professionally DJing back then,” remembers Dahle. “There was a lot of buzz about Norwegian Disco at that moment, because of Bjørn,” but Tromsø being a small city, Dahle “got to know everybody” involved in music and landed a job at Brygge Radio alongside Bjørn, Rune, and Geir Jenssen (aka Biosphere).

Dahle had already found an affinity for American House as a DJ and after a while –  and possibly encouraged by his peers – he bought an sp1200 sampler and started making his own music. “I heard that track Luv Dancing by Underground Solution on Strictly Rhythm and then I just wanted to make electronic music,” recalls Dahle. 

He adopted the name Kango’s Stein Massiv and started making music. At the same time he was playing “small House parties” around Tromsø in places that could barely fit 30 people, but squeezed in 70, people coming in through the windows, just to hear DJs like Dahle, DJ Dust and Rune play. 

By the early 2000’s however everything that could be accomplished in the small university toe of Tromsø was and an exodus followed with the likes of Bjørn Torske moving to Bergen, Rune Lindbæk to Oslo and Dahle to Berlin. 

In 2005 Berlin was a completely different landscape. “My first gig in Berlin was at Panorama Bar” says Dahle and it would’ve been mere months after the venue had opened. He had met Andy Baumecker when the German DJ played in Norway, and the pair just “hit it off”. Dahle would become a regular at Panorama bar at a time when “not too many tourist clubbers” were aware of the emerging institution, playing some part in propelling Dahle’s career in the German capital, to that point where he had nearly played every club in the city by 2008.

Kango’s Stein Massiv would continue to release records during this time. And his records would always  share some relationship to the proto-house sounds of the early eighties in Chicago. “At the heart of it, it was always Disco,” says Dahle “because we sampled Disco.” He released a lot of music, edits and remixes under various aliases, including his first and only record as Jackmaster Dahle, a name that was given to him by Prins Thomas for a one-off release on the precursor to Full Pupp, Tamburine.

“I’ve had a lot of aliases,” says Dahle in a kind of musing tone and it stems from Dahle’s fleeting relationship with a myriad of musical genres. “I get easily bored when I do the same music – I don’t want to do the same thing all the time.”

That’s how Fjordfunk came into existence. “At that time I just wanted to break away from the Kango’s Stein Massiv,” says Dahle. He, Pål “Strangefruit” Nyhus and Øyvind Morken started a label called Luna Flicks with the first Fjordfunk 12”. He took the name Fjordfunk from a local northern Norway legends, Zoo. “They had a track called Slogfunk,” referring to fish offal, which Dahle beautified into Fjordfunk. 

Fjordfunk was always intended to be an album project however, but after releasing two EPs on Luna Flicks that never transpired, before Dahle’s health deteriorated. “I made one album under that name that I threw out,” says Dahle and today the only surviving copy of that work is with Tore “Jazztobakk”  Gjedrem (Ost & Kjex / Sex Judas). 

Is this next Fjordfunk LP at risk of the same fate I wonder? “No,” chuckles Dahle, “it’s being pressed as we speak.” 

Infinite Zest will be released very shortly on New York’s ALO records and it finds Fjordfunk back on the recorded format for the first time since 2008 with “BABOOBAP,” the lead single from the upcoming LP. “I’ve been making music all this time,” says Dahle, but he never completed anything while he was still recovering. He did however keep sending some “ideas” to ALO boss and friend Ben Green, who provided the impetus or the LP when he said: “stop sending me all these ideas, just make an album already.” 

With his health improving he took up the challenge and “decided that by the end of June I will just master an album.” He put together 23 tracks which he and Green whittled down to 8 and the result is Infinite Zest. 

Infinite Zest is a sonic diorama composed from a rich palette of  musical hues informed by Dahle’s own tastes. In a track like “BABOOBAP” you might hear the influence of Harstad icons Zoo, while a track like “Exile” echoes the synthetic conjurings of Jean Michel Jarre as he was in the eighties. There’s a mysterious charm in the atmosphere Dahle coaxes between synthesisers and organic instruments, punctuated by beguiling Disco grooves in an LP that sounds like the cast of Stranger Things on a night out at Studio 54. 

It’s an LP that works on various levels as something that can be appreciated as a self-contained listening experience at home, or when called upon, can slip into a DJ set.  Dahle references Steve Reich’s “Music for Eighteen Musicians” especially for the inspiration of his work, not considering the sound, but in terms of the ultimate listening experience. “It’s the only album I can listen to in the car or at home” inisists Dahle who refers to Reich’s seminal works  as “the pinnacle of music.” The “meditative” quality of Reich’s music is something that particularly resonates with Dahle and it’s something that he manages to recapture in the Fjordfunk sound. It’s always there, lingering contemplatively in the background and especially prominent in the dubby arrangements of “Borealis” or the progresisve extemporisation of “Prelude.” 

“Infinite Zest” is an immersive piece of work, with a dynamic artistic intent. It was created in less than a year with a group of musicians Dahle often calls on in his work. He uses “musicians from everywhere” and at the core of each track is a sixteen bar loop. He sends it to his extended band with little more than a bassline and a few chords and the unspoken request for the ”usual,” which in the case of his guitarist in Finland, means “riffs, licks and a solo.”

He cuts these into pieces and assembles them like a collage from which they take on their own life as tracks. He never considers the end result before approaching a track, making tracks like BABOOBAP “kind of trippy because you don’t really know where the track is going.” It borders on psychedelic, but with the grooves of the rhythm section keeping it from veering off into the obscure, “Infinite Zest” remains grounded in the earthly realm. 

It’s the LP that Fjordfunk was always destined to create and now that it’s finally here, you’d think Jann Dahle would take the time to savour the fruits of his labour. “O, No” he says, laughing  “I’m so bored with that one already.” He’s made “hundreds of tracks” since and claims he has “enough material” to start work on his next two LPs. “You know you’re always most passionate about the latest one,” and for Dahle that’s looking way beyond the present. 

Besides two more LPs, Dahle is also working on some “new stuff” with Tore Gjedrem “that could really work in a club” and collaborating with DFA affiliate Amy Douglas. He’s still not DJing, due to the ongoing issues with his back, but has created a live show around the new LP and one or two new pieces that he will debut in Oslo this weekend for the Boiler Room x Nightflight weekender. 

It’s all part of a new empirical phase for the artist formerly known as Kango’s Stein Massiv, who is redefining funk with an all-encompassing flair of a Norwegian selector as Fjordfunk today. In the 11 years Dahle has been away from music, he’s only gone on to refine the Fjordfunk sound and “Infinite Zest”  sees Dahle confer his music in this new era, an era which will see much more from the Norwegian veteran and stalwart, than ever before. 

 

Getting back to the roots of House music with Cinthie

For the last 7 years Cinthie has become a dominating force in DJ booths all around the world. She’s an integral part of  Beste Modus, which today consists of a DJ collective, 7 sub labels and a record store called elevate.berlin. She is an in-demand DJ with bookings every week, circumnavigating the globe in a year, from America to Australia. She is constantly making new music and in 2019 alone she’s already released five EP’s to critical acclaim via AUS and the Beste Modus labels, including the newly founded 803 Crystal Grooves. 

Since 2012, she’s been going from strength to strength as a DJ, a label-boss and producer, but her start in music goes way back to the late nineties, when she was still a teenager, and went by the pseudonym, vinyl princess. 

With a name like Cinthie (her real name), she was always destined for a career in electronic music. Brought up in a musical home,  the love for vinyl was instilled in a young Cinthie early on. The record store was her second home and as soon as she was old enough her first job would be working behind the counter. Colleagues noticing her love for music and a burgeoning vinyl collection, set her up with her first DJ residency at Flash just outside of Frankfurt which she had to abandon when the club owner found out she was still under age. 

She took a three month sabbatical before returning, and had quickly established a name for herself beyond in the murky musical period at the end of the 90’s where she played a selection of breaks and electro at parties for the likes of West Bam.

Photo by Marie Staggat

She released a few records during this period, but focused most of her efforts on DJing and had found a unique synergy with Germany’s underground scene coinciding with a move to Berlin where she would host parties before eventually becoming a resident at Watergate. She remained an elusive fixture on the scene however, cultivating a sincere following away from the mainstream.

Around 2012 a life-affirming moment followed after the untimely passing of her mother and divorce from the father of her child, which saw her dedicate all her time to music, quitting her day job, and devoting all her time to the artform,  She met Diego Krause, Stevn.aint.leavn, Ed Herbst and Albert Vogt shortly after and they formed Beste Modus, who quickly took Berlin by storm for their love of their physical format and the records they started putting out on their label of the same name.

Since that serendipitous meeting, Cinthie has been an unstoppable force in the booth and in the studio. A versatile selector that can go anywhere through a vast record collection, she has certainly paid her dues in a career that spans two decades today. She continues to pursue her own distinct path, avoiding the mainstream, but the world has cottoned on regardless, in part due to her steady stream of releases, fuelling her established reputation as a DJ.

Cinthie is indeed very busy, with all these various aspects of her career consuming her nearly every waking moment. And yet she took time of her demanding schedule to engage in an extensive Q&A with our blog, before she makes her way to Oslo and Jæger for a very special Øyanatt edition of Frædag.

I’ve heard that your dad was a DJ. What sort of music was playing around your house growing up and how did he eventually influence you by the time you started DJing as a teenager? 

Oh, unfortunately he wasn’t but that would have been fun. My parents were really into music, but mostly top 40 and some disco stuff and they bought a lot of records mostly because the CD wasn’t invented back then. I think their love for music influenced me most. 

By the time you started playing out, you’re 17 and by then you must have your own ideas about music. What was the seminal moment when realised that you wanted to be a DJ and who or what pushed you in that direction? 

Funny thing is, I indeed started out playing at a very early age and I loved it but I never wanted to become a full time DJ, it was more a hobby for me. I only thought about doing it full time around 2014 when I had my labels and some releases and I could really tell my career was picking up. So I gave up my job as I at least wanted to try being a full time DJ. 

Cinthie is your real name, which is quite the atpronym for somebody that went into a career in electronic music. Was the ambition to play and produce music always there in the back of your mind growing up? 

Back then I hated my name as it was neither Cindy nor Cinthia, it just sounded like an accident but now I love it. I always loved music, that’s what I remember and I made a lot of mixtapes and tried to produce my first tracks with an old cassette recorder by cutting out cool parts of tracks I liked back then. Sounded terrible of course hahah… just when I got older I understood that you could make music and do it also as a job. 

Your first record as Vinyl Princess came out during the era of electroclash, and you put out a few Electro records via Westbam’s label. Looking back on those records today, how do you think they relate to what you’re doing now in terms of music? 

Oh my, the good old days. Funny, that you know about it. I was so young but it was an amazing experience regarding how to deal with record deals and how the process works of pressing a record and distribution and PR etc. I definitely learned a lot. It was a fun start of my career and one of my Friends helped me a lot with producing, what I’m really thankful for. 

 

I believe you stopped DJing and making music in the mid 2000’s for a while. What was the reason behind that decision? 

I never stopped, I was just playing more in Berlin and started to throw illegal and official parties, I even played with an unknown Nina Kravitz back then at Tape Club in Berlin or booked Hunnee for one of my first parties. I came fresh from the label Electric Kingdom where I was signed to and was looking for something new. Also I finished studying and started my first job where I wanted to concentrate on. But for example in 2009 I was part of the Keinemusik crew right before I had my daughter. 

I know that you decided to get back into music after your mother passed away unexpectedly and you separated from your husband. It must’ve been a life-affirming moment, but what was the process like after that in terms of getting back into a DJ booth and working on music again? 

As I said I never stepped away from music, I was just not producing and kept it a bit more focussed on Berlin. Also I started my label Beste Modus in the beginning of 2012 and had a residency at Stattbad in Berlin, which closed down a while ago. Especially the label finally gave me strength and power to go my own way, I was kinda free to release whatever I wanted to and it was fun working my ass off for it. Since then the only way was up and it feels good to get a positive feedback on the things you do. 

I’ve read a few articles that came out in recent years and a few of them pegged you for a new arrival. What was it like coming back into that world and having to re-affirm all the things you had done in the past already? 

Since I was never really out of music, It wasn’t too hard at all. I guess I just stepped back into the international circle again. And finally I was able to put all my good and bad experiences from the past into my work for the label. 

Photo by Marie Staggat

Was there a huge difference in terms of the scene and the people between those two eras? 

Yes absolutely, I think the use of smartphones at parties changed a lot. Back then we just got lost in the music, nowadays also with social medias it’s more about an image or look, which is fine for me. If people wanna do it, that’s ok but I try to keep my stuff more music focussed. But of course it also has its advantages. With today’s technologies you can share your music in seconds to a worldwide crowd. 

Was there a dramatic shift in terms of the type of music that now lined your record bag as opposed to before? 

It’s funny that you asked that because I just talked about this with a friend the other day and I’m happy to be able to play all of my old house records from back then again and they still sound so fresh. So I’d say there is not too much of a difference. Of course I went a bit more stripped back for a while as there was the big minimal hype and not too much house stuff out but overall I was always looking for the perfect groove in my records and I kept that from back in the days. 

The music you made upon your return to the studio was certainly quite different from anything you made as Vinyl Princess, bouncing between classic House and Disco. What was it about this sound that particularly appealed to you as a producer in this phase of your career? 

Oh I made other tracks as well back then but they were simply not good enough to release. So I had to wait just until now. But when I started playing music I had a residency in a club and I always played 5 hours from opening to closing and played all the records I found while working in a record store. Back then of course I was more into the breaky stuff but I played pretty much everything, from more stripped back stuff, to house, even a bit of trance, electro , bit of groovy techno. Back then it was in the middle of the heydays of house and we received so many good records from the US, I found incredible stuff there. So now I’m putting all my influences together from New York to Chicago and Detroit , no matter if its disco or house or even almost techno like on my second Crystal Grooves record. I even made another electro track for my upcoming album. I just don’t want to put myself into a box. 

You’ve been incredibly active ever since and quite prolific in releasing records. What has been crucial to you being able to make so much music between touring and hosting club nights? 

Around 2,5 years ago I was sitting back and thought about my career so far and wondered if I was working hard enough and if there are things I can get better. Producing was the only thing were I felt I could add a little extra to it. So I renovated my studio to have the best sound and got obsessed about going there. I was watching every tutorial I could find, invited friends who ’s music I like and asked for tips. I was pretty much living in my studio and the 4 times per week studio days were and still are holy. At the moment I make it up to 2 days per week but this is my main thing at the moment and I see that it pushes me in a good way. So I keep it special and usually switch my phone off to not be disturbed. The touring I do at the weekends and I stopped hosting club nights a while ago as I thought I wasn’t very good at it. 

 

The music you make seems very focussed on the DJ’s perspective of the dance floor. Where do these two aspects of your musical personality intersect for you? 

Yes my music definitely aims to the dance floor mostly because I wanna be able to play my stuff. Very selfish I know. But I’m a club dj, so of course I make club music with a nice DJ mixing intro and outro. 

I assume Beste Modus was and is the perfect platform for your own music. What was the original intention around the label; did you ever think pressing the first 300 copies of your first record that it would lead to the point it is now? 

Yes Beste Modus is my baby. But when I came up with the idea and told the guys I never thought we were going so far. First it was just a try and then we couldn’t stop. 

It’s its own empire today with a record store, several sub labels, club nights and of course the artist/DJ collective behind it. What do you think has been so fundamental to its success? 

It all came naturally and it’s growing in a very healthy way. I think we just came up with the right music at the right time. Minimal stuff was over and people were hungry for a bit of groove. So we gave them the candies. When I look back I can definitely say it was good to bring in my Experience and that I was already a bit older and focussed and delivering quality with the labels and build up a good network. People appreciate that. 

803 Crystal Grooves the most recent development in the Beste Modus franchise if I’m not mistaken and so far it’s had three releases from you. Will this be an exclusive vehicle for Cinthie productions and what are some of the thoughts around this sub-label? 

803 Crystal Grooves is my own baby as I wanted to be more independent from the rest of the crew. Mostly because the music is different and I thought it was about time to shine which can be quite difficult on a various artist EP. Finally my tracks and my music is where I want it to be and I felt comfortable to release a full solo EP on my own label. It’s nice to have a crew around but to be honest, sometimes it’s hard and time consuming if you decide things democratically within 4 or 5 people. I wanted to avoid that in the future and keep the ball rolling a bit more as with Beste Modus we sometimes took too long and only had one release per year which is nothing. In the future I will concentrate more on 803 Crystal Grooves and I’m just about to start a new sub label for it which will be open for friends. It will be called 803 Crystal Grooves Collective Cuts ( sorry, all shorter names were out of stock hahahah ). My main focus for the next years will be to be as independent as I can to release my vision of music. 

  

 

All these different elements filter through the record store, Elevate, today. Is the record store the final piece of the puzzle; what else is left to be explored through the Beste Modus camp? 

It happened by mistake and it feels funny cause working in a record store is where it has all started for me. I’m still structuring everything but will definitely focus more on the store in the near future to share more music with people. Elevate PR by my beloved friend Jordan just got added to the roster but apart from that I think it’s enough. I was thinking to offer distribution for a few labels but it’s too much. It s unfortunately really hard to find the right people to work with. for now I will concentrate on my own productions, the store and my beloved little funny daughter. 

How is Beste Modus and all its subsidiaries a reflection of your sound as a DJ? 

My main focus is house but with all the subsidiaries I’m totally open for all kinds of house and I’m always happy to sign the music I like or play it in my sets. 

There’s that timeless House quality to your music and your DJ sets. Electronic music and especially music intended for DJs has to constantly evolve all the time, so I imagine that your intentions are always to try and make and play something timeless. How would you define that timelessness? 

I can’t really explain it, it’s just my taste I guess. 

But at the same time we’re all constantly evolving, so where do you see your music and DJ sets evolving to in the future?

As much as we are constantly evolving I think we are going back to the roots with the music. House music seems to get bigger again this year and everything will be a bit more friendly and cosy. I’m really looking forward to that and dig out some pearls from my record collection. 

Uncompromising: Anetha in Profile

There are few Boiler Room videos out there that ever manage to capture the throng and energy of a night out in a packed club with a really good DJ. The two-dimensional format, filmed from some unimaginable angle pointing straight at the DJ, rarely does the setting justice as blank stares and conservative movements look over the DJs shoulder into some vacuous black hole beyond the camera’s lense, for what? A track ID, perhaps… 

Everybody that’s ever been to a club knows that is not the way a club is or how people usually act in the absence of the hyper-self awareness that the age of social media has ushered in along with it. It’s a vibe that is incredibly difficult, né impossible to capture on a video… or at least that’s what I thought until I saw Anetha at Amsterdam on Boiler Room. 

Squirming acid, thunderous percussive arrangements and a corporeal energy strikes the viewer from its virtual plain in a very physical way that even through some shitty laptop speakers, has you capitulating to the beat and energy of the scene. On the video, phones are stowed in pockets and panoramic views of the space relay a frenetic scene as bodies move with absolute abandon, submitting to Anetha’s oppressive stint at the decks where she doesn’t give an inch. 

As a Boiler Room set, it’s up there with episodes like Danny Brown, Night Slugs in the hotel lobby and Skatebård as one of the classics, and as a set it’s a masterclass, defining Anetha’s unbridled and radical approach to DJing. “I really like (and try !) to oscillate between different styles of electronic music,” she said in a conversation with When We Dip. “(T)echno of course, but I also love acid, ravy melodies and strong grooves,” and that’s all there concentrated into the bare 45 minutes she gets at the decks, but makes a permanent impression on the listener. 

Since coming to the fore in Paris through the Blochaus collective, Anetha has flirted with the darker, salacious and more aggressive elements of club music, that is certainly Techno, but a breed of Techno that favours shadowy corners in concrete basements. With tempos exceeding 135 beats per minute Anetha is a DJ and producer truly deserving of that “uncompromising” tag we like to throw about when talking about Techno, but which very rarely actually applies to the paint-by-numbers droning beats that define the genre today. 

Andrea grew up in Bordeaux, but moved to Paris as a student, where she fell in with a crowd of kindred spirits. Raised on a selection of “new-wave and electronic stuffs” from her parents, Anetha turned to the natural evolution of those sounds and discovered the sounds and skill for Techno as she came of age. 

“I met Farouk (which is my manager now) and his brother four years ago during a party in Paris, and we quickly discovered that we had the same passion for techno music,” she told When we Dip. She found she had “the same influences and the same ambition to do something for the capital’s night techno scene,” so when Farouk and his brother  “were looking for a resident,” the answer looked them square in the face “and Blocaus was born!”

A club night turned label, Blochaus has had a serious impact on the French scene. Like Anetha’s sets they would leave a serious impression with their nights and records playing on that very same intensity and immediacy that she conjures through her sets. There’s never a moment to really think about it, before you are raptured into awesome power of the tracks she pieces together through her sets. 

“After a year in Paris, thanks to Blocaus and other great collectives such as Sonotown and Concrete,” Anetha had “been progressively” able to find her niche in the French capital and as her records for the likes of Blochaus and Oaks made their way out into the world, it would bring her sound and sets to an international audience that reveres her uncompromising pursuits in music today.

Like her sets, Anetha’s music would drift between those elements of Techno Acid and ravy keys that define her sets. She quite simply burst onto the scene with her debut on Work Them Records, “Ophiuchus” with four Techno thrillers that culminate on the salacious and brooding finalé “Drive With A Dead Girl.” Mixmag called it a “A laid back trippy workout with an enchanting arrangement of gothic synths meandering around in the mids, with a slowly building atmosphere which is punctuated by a woman’s voice, leading into a slightly more frenetic second half,” which describes the track in some detail but doesn’t even come close to relaying the vibe she imbues on that track. 

Apparently inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, the down-tempo rhythm, the hypnotic, sequential bass-line and the ravy keys, reaching up to hedonistic heights, sets a sinister and alluring tone, that instantly draws you into the track’s beguiling construction, enticing you over to the more sordid depths of Techno music while those effervescent toms bubbling under the surface in 16th beats evoke the corporeal underground appeal of Anetha’s DJ sets.

“Underground or not,” said Anetha in an interview with Music Creations last year, “VIBE is now my reference criteria.” She brings vibe in spades to the dance floor in her music and, as we can see on Boiler Room, to her sets. 

After making her debut on Work Them Records and a 12” on Blochaus Series establishing her career as a recording artist, it was a track on an Anagram compilation called “Acid Rain” that installed her as one of the future icons of Techno when the popular Techno YouTube channel HATE posted it. At the time of writing it’s reached almost 1.5 million views, which like the Boiler Room video shows no sign of slowing down. “Acid Train this track is the perfect representation of the ‘never give up’ proverb,” Anetha explained to Music Creations at that time. “It was part of a pack of tracks I sent to various label and each time they choose another track. Finally the Anagram label guys listened to it and they choose it directly.“

It’s a progressive track with something of that resolve Anetha mentions captured in sound. Through hazy fog of synthesisers and wispy noise a minimal wave gated snare and kick arrangement puncture the atmosphere of the track. As the name suggests a lysergic deluge ensues with a 303 raining down on the track. It’s a dynamic track that breaks up the monotony of the 4-4 kick, with that powerful snare and it’s in that kind of dynamism that is a big part of Anetha’s appeal both as an artist and a DJ.        

It’s brutalist without being boring, or monotonous, with a kind of bubbling fervour  hiding behind the crux of her tracks and her sets. There’s an unbridled passion there that just seems to cut through the shit and hits you straight in the cut, with her whole approach simply dedicated to the music. External factors like politics have no role in her music, and one of the few things that she does “not like is the question of the place of women in techno, which is (or should not be) relevant to me at all,” she told Music Creations. 

Everything comes down to simple sake of the music and the vibe that she seeks out through her sets. With news of the new label, Mama Told Ya and the possibility of a future LP in the works, we’re only at ground zero in Anetha’s career and with the entrance she’s made, nothing it seems will stand in her way to become a dominating force on the Techno scene.  

 

*Anetha plays Øyanatt this week with I hate Models, Skatebård and Daniel Gude.

A revolution in sound with Tod Louie

Do you think the Det Gode Selskab will go on forever or do you see an end to it?

“I don’t think I see an end to it,” says Terje Dybdahl punctuating the sentence through staccato giggle. “Is that boring? I don’t really picture a life without hosting events.”

Terje Dybdahl (Tod Louie / Dick Dennis) and Det Gode Selskab are in their ninth season this year and have already left an indelible legacy on Oslo’s electronic music- and DJ scene. Terje  and his partner Christian Berg (Solaris) have taken the Det Gode Selskab from a simple party concept to a DJ collective, events series, festival and label over the course of their existence and even with a decade of Det Gode Serlskab approaching, there seems to be no end in sight for them.

“In the future we might do things on a smaller scale” says Terje, contemplatively sipping at a glass of white wine on a sidewalk in Grünnerlokka, but it’s hard to imagine Oslo, especially on a hot day like today, without the Det Gode Selskab’s presence. 

For the last nine years Det Gode Selskab has taken clubbing al fresco, moving club culture out of  dank basements and into the fresh air, recontextualising it in Oslo’s striking natural surroundings, from fjørd to forrest, as a backdrop. Together with their weekly residency at Jaeger with Philip Hinz, Det Gode Selskab are a weekly fixture in the Oslo scene and as they move into their teens and broach the next evolution as a label, they are taking Det Gode Selskab into brand new territories.

As Tod Louie, Terje has embarked on this next phase with Det Gode Selskab in a new phase for Tod Louie, Dick Dennis, and Terje Dybdahl. Although he has permanently staked his claim as a DJ, he’s finally made that leap into the studio to add producer to his list of titles, with a new 12” released this week through the Det Gode Selskab record label.

After A:G debutted DGS records last year with the Nose EP, Tod Louie continues the label’s journey through the five senses, looking towards the future of the label through the aptly titled “Eye,” (or “Øye” in Norwegian).  

The 12” is Terje’s first foray into production as a fully-fledged artist. Following the collaborative remix on DGS001 with Karl Fraunhofer and Solaris, Tod Louie makes his mark with the title track and shares the record with remixes from label partner Solaris and long-time associate Mike Shannon. Terje’s original undulates over a bedrock of metallic kicks and bulging basslines, with frosty synthetic textures, coaxed from a modular synthesiser floating in the upper atmosphere of the tracks. 

After making a significant contribution, well into the track. These fundamental elements give way to a quirky pseudo-improvised hook that charms and warms the listener to a human dimension behind the track, before lurching back into that stoic groove that underpins it all and Tod Louie’s sound as a DJ.  

Groove is essential to the way Terje approaches music, with “mostly basslines” drawing him to the tracks he plays in his sets. 

Photo by Richard Ashton

The Eye has been nine months in the making and for Terje it’s a “track that goes through four seasons.” “You get a lot of time to consider all the elements,” explains Terje, and it was during this maturing period that Terje felt emboldened to finally take that step into the role as producer, something which he has eluded him in the past due to the time constraints of being a full time DJ and promoter.

Terje “could have easily started a new project” during the time it took him to finalise the Eye, but his stubbornness and the “need to finish it” prevailed and eventually the Eye made it out into the world to critical acclaim from the likes of Mixmag and DJ Mag. “It’s a strong track” according to Terje and the reviews concur with an 8.5 out of ten from DJ Mag. The Eye sees him consolidate the Tod Louie sound as an artist for the first time, taking his distinctive sound as a DJ into the recorded format for the first time. 

Although Terje “was making music a lot” as “a teenager” he “never really took the time” to realise his creative vision with the allure of a social life being too dominant in his formative years as a DJ and promoter. “The party fascinated me more,” says Terje with a knowing grin. Being a “social” person he took more joy from seeing “people’s immediate reaction when you play a record,” than the extended reception that comes with putting a record out. 

The “interest” for rhythm and the “skill” has always been there with Terje nonetheless, but they remained untapped till he could devote enough time to that pursuit. 

Born and raised in rural Mysen,Terje a self-proclaimed “farm boy,” grew up in a very musical household. Terje hadn’t been the only Dybdahl who had found an affinity for promotion. His father, a local bar and restaurant owner had started putting events together with a focus on music when he took over the family business. “Since it was in the countryside you maybe had a club on Saturday and Fridays it might be more country music,” remembers Terje of his father’s endeavours. There would always be music playing around the house too and when his father “and some friends decided to turn a piece of land on the back of the farm into a festival space,” the peace and quiet of the rural countryside was forever disrupted in the Dybdahl family home and it got “quite busy there for ten years.”

Terje was about three years old when they held their first event. He grew up in the “middle of the festivities” and looks back on that era with great fondness: Late night rendezvous at the house after a party with his dad playing some rockabilly riffs courtesy of Roy Orbison and Elvis on the piano had kept a young Terje awake at night, listening intently to the hammering of the keys. 

Being born of a certain era, DJing and records had naturally planted the seed for a career in music. He had found a kinship with neighbour and future DJ and promoter Ole-Espen Kristansen (O/E). The pair started Djing together when Terje took over possession of his older brother’s decks. They played their “first big gig” when the people behind the Hyperstate festival used the Dybdahl farmland for an event called Atlantis, which saw Terje and Ole-Espen play on the same bill as Sasha and Ferry Korsten.

The bug had bitten, and by the time he was twelve, around 1999, an “interest for playing records” had taken up all of his free time. “CD mix compilations like global underground from Sasha” and an eclectic record collection that ranged from European Trance to classic House had informed his early musical development, before finding his voice later as Tod Louie in the age of the minimal Techy sounds that dominated Europe around the latter 2000’s.

Photo by Haakon Hoseth

He was a diligent student too and had a career path laid ahead for him to study space physics, but some bad career counseling and a life changing moment had set Terje on a very different path.

“The only place to study space science was way up north, and I had just found out I was gay, and I was like no, I’m not moving up there now.” Instead he moved to Trondheim to study communication and marketing and at the same time started hosting his own parties.

It was “around the time Facebook arrived, so everything was really new,” remembers Terje. “In the beginning it was venues, promoters and DJs that fuelled facebook with content,” and while he was spending his days studying its effects, he spent his nights putting it into practise. “That was interesting, and after that I really understood I had a talent for PR and marketing.”

It was in Trondheim that he would meet Christian Berg, who was studying music management at the time. They set up the Beat Foundation as Trondheim’s precursor to Oslo’s Det Gode Selskab, and had instantly found a dynamic working relationship where Chris would take care of the bookings and Terje would apply his skills which tends to “care more about the social aspects” of the events. 

They took the concept to Oslo where it was reborn under a new star as Det Gode Selskab and nine years on, the concept is still going strong. 

What’s the secret to their longevity?

“We try to reinvent ourselves,” explains Terje. “I think we did a pretty good job of keeping it interesting, and being a pop-up club and setting up in different places keeps it interesting” and of course keeps people interested. As a concept Det Gode Selskab is in a constant state of evolution and it’s only their weekly residency at Jaeger that’s remained consistent these last few years. 

That constant state of evolution is something that underpins Terje’s own career too. From playing ““european trance club music, english house influences, maybe a little harder house, but also garage” in the beginning to the more minimal techy stuff that he and Det Gode Selskab are none for today, Terje’s constantly repositions his purview from the DJ booth, and now the studio, with that “essential” groove underpinning everything he does. “Sound revolution – that’s what I want to present,” says Terje in a deadpan tone. 

Sometimes he just wants to indulge guilty pleasures though, and to that end he’s created the Dick Dennis moniker. Dick Dennis is the naughty city slicker to Tod Louie’s coy farm boy. It’s a DJ character that Terje has created originalluy for the queer events that he and some of Det Gode Selskab host together under the Everysome banner. “It connects in a good way” with Det Gode Selskab with residents often playing at Everysome and audiences moving between these two concepts without much re-adjustment.

Everysome is Terje’s connection to the Oslo queer community and guests have included luminaries like Eris Drew. It’s a platform to let Terje’s “naughty” side loose and that’s where Dick Dennis naturally thrives. Playing between those early garage influences, classic House, eighties Disco and screeching diva vocals, Dick Dennis’ record bag looks very different from the one that Tod Louie prefers, but through the groove and energy they find a common ground. “People work Monday to Friday, they need that energy,” explains Terje. “They’re not going to pay 150kr to sit there and wait. “

It’s that desire for immediacy and that need to deliver, that perhaps even inhibited Terje’s foray into the production chair. Although, I’m sure he would be quite content never donning the producer cap, there seems to have been a definite urge for some creative expression that has resulted in the Eye. Some frustration and possibly never having the right context had played its part in Terje’s late start as a producer. Although there had always been a piano at home, Terje never took up the instrument, and the limitations of his skillset had never truly found the right conduit for expression, until Karl Fraunhofer and Christian Berg help channel his ideas through the synthesisers and machines. 

“My creativity stops with my hands,” he remarks and although he would always eventually “get there” it would never  be “as fast as you want it to be like in a jam situation,” so Terje would often abandon musical projects before they were completed. So what change? Finding the right people to collaborate with. “It’s good to bring in technology or partners,” says Terje who often found it difficult to get down ideas from some vocalisation of a rhythm or a melody. That’s why he says it’s “always nice to collaborate with others.” Collaborating with Christian Berg and Karl Fraunhofer as a Det Gode Selskab trio has paid its due diligence on Terje’s own writing and producing endeavours, which all led to the Eye.

The three artists share a studio today and the effects of the collaboration and the new creative environment has certainly had an influence on Terje’s work, which the “Eye” can attest to. 

The press has hardly had time to cool down, and he’s already talking about future works.”Now I want to go on to experiment with House and bring in more ravier sounds,” he says. Motivated by the sets he’s been crafting as Dick Dennis and the likes of Eris Drew, whose “energy in the booth and persona” has been an inspiration to Terje lately, Terje is at the cusp of a new revolution in sound as a DJ, promoter and of course, now an artist. 

His predictions on the future and where it will lead Tod Louie and Dick Dennis are still fairly vague, and it seems that he is still formulating and compartmentalising them as our conversation turns to the future. With the newly created Dick Dennis character, Everysome, the label and the music, it seems that there is still no end in sight for the collective and its central figure Terje Dybdahl. 

 

*The Eye is available now at Filter Musikk.

*Terje plays every Sunday at Jaeger with Det Gode Selskab. 

Øyvind Morken’s favourite Jan Schulte tracks for an Untzdag

The chances are good that you’ve heard Jan Schulte on Wednesday at Jaeger. Øyvind Morken has been carrying the German DJ and producer’s music –  in its many guises – in his record bag for a long time, bringing it out on the right occasion for his weekly Untzdag residency, where it always finds a favourable reception. 

Jan Schulte is probably best known for his exotic recorded work as Wolf Müller and as the ex-resident of Salon Des Amateurs, but he has also been known to go by Bufiman when the mood, or moon just strikes him right. His transmorphism into Bufiman, opens a vortex into psychedelic deimsions where downtempo, krautrock, acid, balearic and house converge on the outer fringes of the outer dimensions. 

As an artist he is easily able to modulate between all these different factions, and with his kaleidoscopic vision of the known musical universe he is able to manipulate his expansive knowledge to the esoteric sound that he has cultivated across LPs and EPs. Even across his various aliases a distinct approach in sound emerges, with Schulte’s eclectic pursuit as a DJ coursing through the sound he perpetuates as a producer. 

Few know his work better than Øyvind Morken, who will often call on Schulte’s music and his remixes in his sets, so we asked him to pick a few of his favourites ahead of their next foray in the booth together – this time in person – when Schulte steps into Untzdag for Øyanatt this year

 

Bufiman – Running (The Chase)

 

 

Øyvind Morken: When that Clav hits, dance floor explosion!

Jan Schulte donning the Bufiman donning for this blistering, Funk monster. Bouncing along on a palette of eighties grooves and those stabbing keys, Bufiman pursues an intangible energy through the track. With dubby delays weaving their way through the track, leaving distant echoes in their wake this track is in perpetual motion as the title suggests.

 

Om Buschman – Hey Tatta Gorem (Wolf Müller Edit) 

 

 

Øyvind Morken: Not many clubs function at as low tempos as 80bpm, but like at the Salon Des Amateurs where Jan was resident, Untzdag does.

Schulte gives eighties post-kraut rockers Om Buschmann the Wolf Müller treatment re-envisioning the downtempo original for a modern dance floor. As Wolf Müller he turns the simple percussive rhythm of the original into a rich tapestry of beats, expounding on the exotic curiosities of the original with a DJs purview. Enticing the audience to the floor in a polyrhythmic melee of hand percussion and synthesised drums, the track’s energy far exceeds its 80 beats per minute. 

 

Wolf Müller – “Balztanz”

 

 

Øyvind Morken: Tribal-Jawharp-Funk. New genre there.

From the jovial jaw harp to the schizophrenic sine waves jumping around like Mexican beans, this is a very quirky track from Schulte as Wolf Müller. The repetitive nature of track indulges transcendental associations of primordial memories. It’s this kind of extotic world-travlled soundscape in which Schulte’s Wolf Müller alias thrives. 

 

Mungolian Jet Set – Moon Jocks N Prog Rocks (Montezuma’s Revenge Version)

 

 

Øyvind Morken: The Düsseldorf-Berlin-Oslo connection. 

This is the kind of obscure reference only Øyvind Morken could pick out. It’s Schulte as one half of Montezuma Rache, remixing those Norwegian musical voyeurs Mungolian Jet Set. extracting a little more than the groove of the original, Schulte and Christian Pannenborg slow it down and turn it inside out with a psychedelic interpretation of the original, like staring at a jumble of colourful cables on acid.  

 

The facilitator with Ida Nerbø

Electronic music has always thrived in Bergen. From artists like Annie  and Kings of Convenience who first established a scene around the city to artists like Telephones and Skatebård that was born into that scene, Bergen has often lead the way for House music in Norway and it comes as no surprise that at a time of Techno’s heightened popularity that the city should yet again be at the forefront of electronic club music in Norway.

Although musical institutions like PLOINK have long been flying the flag for the genre, the music’s recent surge in popularity is being propagated by a new generation of DJs, tastemakers and producers in the city. Like the rest of the known world there is a wave of Techno enthusiasts currently sweeping over the scene in Bergen and one of the DJs at the crest of the wave is Ida Nerbø. 

A DJ with an extensive background in the Norwegian coastal city, Ida Nerbø has been a fixture in booths around Bergen for some time, and it’s under theTechno banner, that she has made her most indelible impression on the scene to date. She coined the #bergentehnocity as a way to consolidate the movement and founded DOT by way of perpetuating the sound and spirit of Techno.

DOT is a fanzine, a club event, a collective and mix series spearheaded by Nerbø, bringing artists like Varg to Bergen and providing a platform for local Techno DJs and artists like Kahuiun and Christian Tilt. Ida Nerbø imbues the role of facilitator behind the DOT universe, and although she is a very adept hand at DJing in her own right, through DOT she places greater emphasis on the people and the scene around her.

Her own sets offer a visceral and encompassing view of the Techno genre, from its dark, brooding depths to its ethereal hedonistic heights. With elements of Acid, dub and atmosphere informing the selections in her sets, she evokes a cinematic purview of the dance floor, underpinned by the brutal body-energy of Techno. She’s lit up stages and booths in Bergen at the likes of Østre and EKKO, and with her next stop at Jaeger looming closer, we reached out to find out more about the DJ and the linchpin of the DOT collective. 

*Ida Nerbø plays Frædag with Julia Govor in our basement next week.

t

What are you listening to right now?

Right now I’m listening to a Semantica playlist going through the label material. Acronym with The Inevitable is next.

Can you tell me a bit about your relationship with music. What’s your first memory of hearing a piece of music and being intrigued by it?

Back when I was maybe 11-12 years old I had a radio in my room and would listen to random pop charts and stuff like that. One day I found a strange looking cassette in the house. On the cover was a picture of a robot-like man. The music was bleep bloop all the way. Very fascinating, weird and catchy. At the time I didn’t understand what it was, but the sound was just so different and new that it stuck with me. It was Kraftwerk. 

What encouraged you towards a career as a DJ?

For some reason I’m often more comfortable in the DJ-booth and in the club than anywhere else. It’s a zone where I feel creative and have a lot of fun. In that way playing music for others feels natural. A lot of encouragement comes from my friends and other DJs too. The techno scene is very inclusive and we all support each other a lot. 

When and how did Techno exactly come into your life and what drew you to the genre?

I started playing techno for real around 2015. Before that I was more into disco, which I still enjoy a lot by the way. But I wanted to go deeper and explore the hypnotic sides of music. And I found that techno has so many layers to it. I’m intrigued by how it can be both dark and mystic, and energetic and powerful at the same time. Techno has this capacity of darkness yet bringing such joy.

I’m very much drawn to exploring the textures and qualities of sounds in techno. For instance, how short and fast can a sound be, or how long and big? What makes a track hypnotic and energetic at the same time? These paradoxes and extremes interest me.

Bergen has a great Techno and club community there. How did the scene and other DJ’s influence you if at all?

Because the scene holds a high level, it’s easy to find inspirations. EKKO, Borealis and PLOINK to name a few contribute to the high quality of club events, putting up everything from experimental noise acts to straight-on techno. Having the opportunity to perform on good sound systems, with high quality productions, is so important to build skill as a DJ. When you’re put on a line-up where you’d easily go to listen to anyone of the other artists, that does something with you and how you prepare for that gig. I’m really proud to have played many of the festivals in Bergen, and I’ve been lucky to share stage with many of my heroes. I always learn a lot from that. 

Tell me about the #bergentechnocity hashtag and what started it all?

Yeah, that was an idea I came up with when we prepared for a gig that was a collaboration with several DJs and collectives back in 2016. We joked about how the techno scene was growing and Bergen becoming a Techno City. Many of us had gotten into techno without knowing about each other. Like, we had even been to the same events before, each going there alone, and now its was fun to find each other and build the community. So I suggested we use #bergentechnocity as a tag to unite and make it easier for anyone to join and contribute to the scene. Then later to my big surprise I discovered that the tag had several hundred pictures on Instagram from the Bergen scene. Now I guess it lives its own life.

How does that relate to your fanzine and your DOT club nights?

I guess in everything I do, I want it to be inclusive and open for everyone who wants to join. 

 

What encouraged you to start DOT and what are some of the ideas behind the night in terms of the bookings and the music policy?

Obviously, it’s a techno party at its core, but I also wanted to take a different approach to the whole clubbing experience. Our mission with DOT is to make every night a unique experience, and to present a variety of styles and connect that with light design, installations and artwork. We’re a diverse crew and that reflects in the curating I think. Also, sound quality is extremely important, and at the same time we see the feeling of the room and the visuals as equally important as the music. We are lucky to work with Østre – hus for lydkunst og elektronisk musikk as our main venue, with the Meyer sound system and in the black box main room, plus volunteers and crew that helps out every time. I’m proud of what we have achieved so far, but of course we’re continuously working to improve. 

Techno has quite a few different interpretations today. How do you, and what you do for DOT, interpret the genre?

I think of techno in its broadest sense, it comes down to the energy and groove of the music more than a set definition. Put a disco track on +8 and give it some extra kick, and that can fit into a techno night. With DOT we also focus on techno aesthetics, that the choices we make about for instance light design influence the experience of the music and vice versa. 

It’s enjoying a lot of popularity at the moment. I know that PLOINK has been one of the only concepts that have been promoting the genre in Bergen in the past. How has the popularity affected the scene and community in Bergen?

For me, it’s very cool to see that techno is gaining ground and growing. More DJs are entering the community, and it makes it easier to learn from each other and exchange tracks and so on, so it definitely has a positive effect. In many ways there’s a culture of sharing now, where the experienced artists invite new DJs to play, teach the tricks of the trade and generally support new initiatives. I feel that’s an important aspect of techno culture, so it’s nice to see that evolving. 

Has it had any adverse effect?

Right now I don’t think so. I feel that the DIY attitude and overall energy in the scene is strong, and getting more people involved strengthens the community. It makes the scene more diverse.

What do you look for in a Techno track to make it into your sets?

Something important for me is the sounds and texture of the tracks, and I make an effort to include tracks that offer something different. It can be a specific sound that interests me, like a deep rumbling bass or an acid sound that catches my ear. My sets are a lot about energy and vibe too. I really try to give people an experience, and I like tracks that are quite physical, so that people can feel the music and remember it afterwards. 

A lot of my time goes towards looking for tracks that would interact with each other really well too, so that they can tell a story together. Not only to mix one after the other, but also for connecting the start of the set with a later stage. It can be certain sounds or maybe an atmosphere that points to a direction and serves as a way to give a hint of what might come. I find it interesting to try and build a narrative that way. Often that happens intuitively too. I improvise in the moment so that if there is a groove or a sound that sparks an idea, that can lead into a certain chain of tracks. If I’m lucky that happens really naturally and people are into it too, and I can share that with the people in the club.  

You haven’t made the leap into the producer role yet. Is that something that you might want to do in the future, and what is it about DJing that keeps you interested?

I’m working on a few projects at the moment, exploring ways of production and with different sounds, and some of it is very promising. But it’s a long way to go, as I guess all producers before me have experienced. But definitely, yes, I consider myself a producer in the sense I do make music and play my own material occasionally in DJ-sets. Then it can be layered with other tracks and I can experiment with how it sounds in the club. I find that really interesting, and the way the material connects with other peoples music can inspire new ideas and so on. This is one of the reasons I think DJing will always be exciting, whether you focus on selection, technique or creativity, there’s really no limit to what you can do.

We’re looking forward to having you play at Jaeger. How do you expect your set going?

I’m looking forward to it too! It will be techno, but other than that anything can happen! 

Anything you’d like to add to sign off?

Stay safe and have fun!

 

Five influential tracks with Justin Cudmore

Justin Cudmore has found a striking balance between the energy of a dance floor and the acute precision of machine music, through his young  but fertile career as a DJ and producer. His high-energy acid workouts have landed on records from the likes the Bunker New York and HNYTRX, while his sets have taken him all over the world, playing the likes of Lux Fragil, Panorama Bar, Smartbar Chicago and soon, Jaeger Oslo

Growing up in the mid west, USA, Cudmore eventually moved to Chicago where as a young, gay man he had found a community and a “family” at the heart of the legendary city that birthed House music. It laid the foundation that  propelled the burgeoning DJ and producer into a career in music, starting with a job for the now defunct online mix blog, little white earbuds and culminating in a productive career as a recording artist with six EPs under his belt to date. 

He calls New York home today and counts Mike Servito as a “mentor,” and even though he is still a relatively new artist, he has already made a severe impression on House music through his releases and his DJ sets.

He’s a favourite guest DJ at queer events like Wrecked, Queen!, Horse Meat Disco, Hot Mass and Club Toilet; he’s one third of the Hot Mix crew with New York stalwarts Mike Servito and Gunnar Haslam; and he makes regular sojourns over to Europe. Surprisingly, it was on a student exchange programme to Oslo in fact and particularly Sunkissed, where Cudmore had first found a latent passion for electronic dance music, which would follow him back to the states, where he nurtured the passion in the creative cauldron of the city that started it all, Chicago. 

In Chicago, he had gone from bedroom DJ to regularly gracing the booth at iconic venues like  Smartbar, before moving to New York and completely immersing himself in a career as a DJ and a producer. There were a few seminal tracks that shaped the young Cudmore’s ear at this time, a handful of tracks that had made an indelible imprint on the impressionable twenty-something Cudmore and continues to inform his sets and his music. We got in touch with Justin Cudmore to ask about five of these tracks and its effects on his music and DJ sets today. 

Leonid, “Mora” [Statik Entertainment]

Justin Cudmore: I first heard this in 2010 in chicago probably at a warehouse party or rooftop where steve mizek was playing.  I had never heard something like this, so dubby, but groovy and forward moving with positive energy. It became and instant favorite of mine. 

There’s that Chicago legacy that courses through all of House music, but how influential had that legacy been for a DJ and artist like you when you started going to clubs and hearing this music, some two generations on?

Very!  It was still very much in the music and the culture when I was living in Chicago. America has a very rich history with this. I felt it even more once I moved to New York, probably because the scene was much healthier there at the time and bigger / larger in scale – as everything tends to be in New York. 

You mention a warehouse party, and besides Smartbar we’re not really that familiar with clubs in the city. How did you arrive at the scene, was it through warehouse parties and what was the club culture like at that time for a burgeoning DJ?

I arrived in Chicago when I was 21 just out of university.  I had just returned from a 6 month study abroad program in Oslo actually.  It was in Oslo where I actually really went “clubbing” for the first time, as I was not old enough in the states during university.  I was on a business exchange programme at BI and although the classes were nice, what I really took out of that experience was exploration and discovery in europe.  Every weekend I would travel or go to Blå. Sunkissed was my favorite party!!! So when I returned to the US and moved to Chicago at 21, I felt comfortable jumping right into Smart Bar. I don’t think clubbing at that young age was very popular at the time, especially in Chicago, so I would be the ones dragging my friend’s to smart bar or warehouse parties.  Besides my day job at the time, I met Steve Mizek who ran this music blog called Little White Earbuds. This was a very important moment in my dance music education as the website did a great job covering a huge part of the underground in the US and Europe. It turned my ear on to a lot of things. I did my first mix for them in 2011 which features a lot of the tracks I talk about here – http://www.littlewhiteearbuds.com/podcast/curators-cuts-20-justin-cudmore/

“Dubby, but groovy and forward moving with positive energy.” How does it inform what you try to achieve in your music and your DJ sets today?

Groovy is essential.  I’m not one for long periods of darker moods or undertones. I feel a party should be joyous and celebratory. Sure I love a darker techno, electro moment here and there and massively enjoy sets from artists like DVS1 who venture into more mysterious realms- but for me I’ve always been drawn to the positive. 

What encouraged you to eventually move to New York?

I followed my boyfriend at the time to New York. I wasn’t even really keen on moving there at the time nor did I have any inclinations of becoming a full time dj. At that time in Chicago I was just buying records, playing at home, and producing music at home. The silver lining is moving to New York is the best thing that ever happened to me.

 

Steffi, “Yours feat. Virginia” [Ostgut Ton]

It is a perfect house track – stripped down to the essentials. Vocals, when used at the right time, always peek my interest. This classic tune I heard just as I was 21 leaving college and it showed me what modern house music could be while still feeling like it could be made in the past. 

It is a stripped back track, and it has that very cold European sound to it. How does that sound translate in the USA where things seem to be a little warmer and funkier?

I think it translates just great! I can’t remember a dance floor this track doesn’t work on or get a reaction.  You’re right it does seem “colder” in a way, but I’ve always felt it as a very positive moment on the dance floor.  It’s perfect in its simplicity.   

I’m always amazed how much Steffi manages to get from a few elements and this track would work incredibly well on a festival stage or a big room too. How does context inform your selections as a DJ?

Context is extremely important. I often say every party is different. Even playing the same club but a different night, different time slot, before or after different artists – I think it should always, all be considered.  I’m of the school that the DJ should morph to fit the needs of the party and the night while always staying consistent to who you are / your musical taste. Playing a festival is completely different, though, as I’ve started to learn.  Especially at bigger productions with larger stages and shorter sets- the crowd doesn’t have much of an attention span and has the ability to wander from stage to stage, so it’s a completely different approach I’ve started to learn. I much prefer playing in a club. 

You mentioned that you like the fact that it sounds like something that “could be made in the past.” Is this something that you often look for in music, and what is about the music from the past that especially appeals to a younger DJ like you?

Yeah I do appreciate that retro feel and I’ve often tried to replicate that experience in my own music. To me there’s always something magical when something feels timeless/ could be made at any time. Also this is not easy to do- so I like that challenge. 

 

Sound Stream, “Makin’ Love” [Sound Stream]

I’m not sure the first time or place I heard this one but the raw funk and energy dissolved into the production, with every crackle and spark, turned me on to dance music for the rest of my life. This tune inspired me to show me what is possible with production tools and how sound can create energy and vibe.

So this was the catalyst for you to move into dance music production. Had you been DJing by this time yet?

No I was “Djing” before I learned of this track.  I think I discovered this while living in Oslo, actually.  My experience with Djing started at 18 when at University. My roommate at the time and I would play house parties on a laptop with controller.  One Halloween party we did was a big success so this local venue in town gave us a weekly party. So for the next 2 years we played dance music every Wednesday.  I still have playlists from this time. It’s interesting to see the music evolve from DFA, blog house era music of 2008 into more house like Derrick Carter, then when I returned from Europe, there is Prins Thomas, Skatebård, and techno from artists of the time like Maya Jane Coles, Marc Romboy.  I was young and listening to everything.  

It’s got that repetitive dubby thing too, but here it moves into Disco territory, which is not something that I hear much in your music as an artist. What was the evolution like as a producer  going from this to the music you would eventually bring out on labels like The Bunker NY and ISNTISNT?

I started making music when I was 16 when I moved to university (2006).  It started in Reason and by the end of university I moved to Logic and bought a new computer.  I made so many different styles but when I look back really what I was doing was trying to imitate what my favorite sounds at that time were.  And what’s the best about music production is it’s very hard to replicate exactly with so many variables, so things always end up going into interesting directions.

 

Nick Höppner, “A Peck And A Pawn” [Ostgut Ton]

Being a drummer growing up, the syncopation here and the sexy atmosphere pulled me in immediately.  Ever since I have been a huge fan of Nick and what he has created. He tells a story and creates a world inside each of his tracks. 

I’m not surprised to hear you are a drummer. Drummers always make for the best dance music producers. It must be your sense of rhythm. Besides drumming, what was your music history prior to coming into dance music?

I started playing drums in school when I was 9.  This continued until I left for university. I was always in a band. Either jazz, concert, marching. It was an important creative outlet for me.

You’ve made quite an impression since starting to release music in 2016,  but I assume it took time to hone your voice as an artist. What was the eureka moment for you when you realized you had found your sound and how would you define that sound today?

I don’t know if I ever had this moment… but it did take many years. Since starting to make music at 18 to moving to Chicago, training my ear and then landing in New York, meeting someone like Mike Servito who saw a talent in me and would listen to what I was making and give feedback and push me. I know when I’m in the studio at home and everything locks together and I’ll jump around and get excited but it really took a mentor like Servito to push me over the edge and get me comfortable sharing my music with labels. 

There’s a lot of Acid in your own music, but we don’t have any 303s in this list. What drew you to that element in House music in your own productions?

Really it’s Mike Servito and The Bunker New York. I didn’t really fall in love with this sound until I moved to New York because I wasn’t hearing it out in chicago at that time.  The way Servito played it became very influential to me. So at 25 living in brooklyn I would always go see Mike play, we’d see him every weekend. Dance floor lessons. 

So far this list has featured only contemporary music. How would this reflect what you might do in the DJ booth?

Yeah well I’m not that old :)  But also I’m of the school – If it’s new to me than it’s new and I’m excited about it.  That could be an old track or a new track. I try to play a nice combination of new sounds and old. 

 

Murk Pres. Liberty City, “If You Really Love Someone” [Cr2 Records]

 

Being gay, growing up feeling left out and not fitting in, this was the bassline and anthem that spoke to me when I first heard it in Chicago. To this day I am inspired by the groove and funk of the machines and vocals that worked together to create the energy of this track. 

House music has that massive gay legacy behind it that stems from Chicago. Did you feel, even in the city, it was hard to find places to truly be yourself growing up?

Well my time in Chicago was just before the black madonna took over the bookings at smartbar, and Queen! which is now a Sunday gay institution in Chicago run by Derrick Carter and hadn’t yet started, so finding the gay connection to the underground wasn’t so easy as maybe today.  However I made my way. I came out to family around this time. 

So House music was the gateway and we’ve talked a bit about how it shaped your ear, but how do you think the music and the scene shaped you as a person?

It has shaped me a lot. Incredibly so. I would be very lost if it not were for the guidance of my family I met on the dancefloor in Chicago and New York.  These bonds have been very special and impactful on me. My biological family that raised me was supportive but not adventurous with their ideas on art, music, politics, so I can’t imagine where I’d be without the dancefloor.

You talked about energy again, and that’s something that I find in your music too, but it’s something that particularly thrives on the dance floor. How do you tune into that energy when you are sitting at a computer, drum machine or synthesiser to make music?

I think it is something you have to feel.  When I make music or listen to music I am constantly imagining a room or dancefloor and the song playing in that room. 

This list is music that is designed for the DJ and dance floor, but sometimes you just need a break from the music you work with. What music do you usually turn to when you just want to relax at home?

Honestly Spotify.  I spend a lot of time planning what music to play, so when I want to relax I let spotify take over.  By now it knows me and the discover weekly is always a nice background mood. And I don’t even have to think about it.  The sounds are usually 70-80s disco, rock, italo, laid back and vibey. Up this week is – Orange Juice, Claudia Barry, Tullio De Piscopo, Saada Bonaire, and Wham!

 

I want my MTV and the videos that defined dance music for a generation

“I want my MTV” croons the emaciated voice of Sting on the back of the 1985 Dire Straits single “Money for Nothing.” It was an iconic moment not just for the Dire Straits, who had cleaned up in the charts that year with the song, but also the television channel which birthed the phrase. “I want my MTV” was the original slogan for MTV when it was launched some four years earlier and by the time Sting had wrapped his lips around the phrase it had become the ubiquitous chant of a generation that were changing the face of how we consumed music. 

By 1985 the Buggels’ prophetic words that launched the channel had become a reality when  “video killed the radio star” and a whole generation stowed their radios in some dank corner of an unused closet and glued themselves to a screen for most of their waking adolescent life. “You would never look at music in the same way again” proclaimed MTV and they were right… at least for a while. 

From the iconic videos like Michael Jackson’s Thriller (yes the video is still iconic if the man might not be) to original programming like Beavis and Butthead, MTV played a fundamental role in the cultural development of its youthful audience, all based solely on the new media music, the music video… and some key catch phrases like “I am conrholio!”

Through the pre-reality tv life of MTV, the music video has become an artform in itself and from the avant garde Talking Heads videos to the urban documentaries of Hip Hop artists like Snoop Dog and NWA, the music video was so integral to the music, that for the longest time the one couldn’t seem to exist without the other.  

Originally intended exclusively for rock music, MTV couldn’t resist the trappings and commercial success of pop music and very early on reformatted to include all forms of music, much to the future generations’ benefit in fact. Eventually their programming forked off into dedicated shows for certain genres of music like Headbangers Ball and Yo MTV, before becoming their own fully fledged channels like MTV 2 and MTV Base. 

 

We didn’t start the fire  

By the time the mid-nineties rolled over and the doom of Y2K loomed ever closer a new kind of music started bubbling to the surface from somewhere deep beyond a subculture. House, Techno, Trance, Electro et al, which had been the preserve of dark dingy nightclubs at the base of sprawling metropoles, had already started making an impact on clandestine pirate stations and late-night radio programmes, but by the mid nineties it had started to inform popular culture. MTV was one of the first to document the strange phenomenon called rave interviewing the likes of West Bam and Moby well before any mainstream audience had even heard of the term Rave.

By the mid nineties we needed a catch all term for this new form of music and electronic dance music had been coined. The term had a pragmatic beauty and refined logic to it that not only described the music, but eventually become a genre in itself (although it would be slightly bastardised version of it). Back in the mid nineties however, electronic dance music would be used to describe any form of electronic music made from drum machines and synthesisers for the sake of dancing and would incorporate everything from Drum n Bass to Acid Techno, but it would be all these elements converged where this new form of music would reach the height of its popularity and for this writer it’s all down to one group, one song and one mesmerising video. 

For every artist and DJ of my generation I speak to there is one catalyst, one crucial point of reference that binds us in our musical history and that is Prodigy’s Firestarter. But it’s not just the group the track or even the LP, Fat of the Land that connects us, but its music video. Firestsarter will always be impregnated on our collective psyche as the nexus for a passion for electronic beat music that has endured ever since, and it’s all down to that video.   

From the moment the image of Keith Flint blurs into focus, drunkenly swaying in some underground dungeon, formerly the Aldwych tube station, there was something about the music and imagery that immediately resonated with an alternative kind of music fan. Jaunty guitars, big brauling beats, punkish vocals, and a lysergic bass movement all played perfectly against the monochrome underground dystopia of the video, making the music video as iconic as the song and its central figure, Keith Flint ,the music icon he was always meant to be. 

With elements of Drum n Bass, Rock, Acid and Jungle all informing the Prodigy’s sound at that time, it’s music that spoke to a wide audience as something familiar, but also incredibly unique. It was provocative and edgy, the type of thing that would send your parents into a spiral when it came on, but for reasons unknown to them. There was no cursing or anything inflammatory (pun intended) about the song in itself and the video was just a guy dancing in tunnel, but it’s the implications of it that put your parents at edge, so it also became a special torture mechanism for the know-it-all teenager looking for catalyst to rebel – and for those daring amongst us a Keith Flint hairstyle might just have completely pushed them over the edge.

You could tell at the time that even MTV were perplexed as to where to schedule Firestarter. At first it would only be shown well after the watershed on some late night programming and then later it would also appear in the middle of the day, when kids returned home from school. It could also be in one of the chart shows, at the same time as being on one of the alternative channels and I vaguely remember it appearing out of context on one of the rock shows, sandwiched between Metallica and Foo Fighters. Later even mom and dad would be chiming along in some bad conckey drawl of the main refrain. 

It opened up a doorway into electronic music for an entire generation, that first saw us digging back to the Prodigy experience, and then further left into acts like KLF and Orbital before eventually arriving at Jeff Mills and Frankie Knuckles. 

 

This is going to make you Freak

Before the Prodigy, in the early to mid nineties Rock and especially Grunge dominated MTV’s programming giving birth to the lauded MTV unplugged show which went on to memorialise Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, and probably in some way laid the groundwork for MTV’s alternative programming that led to a track to Firestarter’s broad appeal. 

At that point House was being picked up by major labels and went a little too pedestrian for the likes of MTV’s “edgy” programming. Techno like always was enjoying an underground success through the second wave of Detroit producers, but still a little too obscure for the likes of popular tv. It was only when Firestarter came to MTV that electronic music really started to make a true impact on the programming.

For a young teenager growing up in suburban South Africa where electronic music had been ubiquitous for a long time – even the drive-time jocks had their own Formula1-inspired Techno track (I kid you not) on the charts – it wasn’t particularly a new development but it did introduce me to a world of electronic music I would remain ignorant to if it had not been for MTV. 

The SABC (South Africa’s national broadcasting coeporation) with its conservative nationalist agenda, both before and after apartheid, controlled the radio airwaves and very rarely siphoned music from the outer fringes of popular culture into their programming. When the very real, and sometimes imagined, perils of life outside of the house is ingrained into the fabric of your society, the TV becomes your closest friend and by the time MTV came into our homes, some 15 years on from when it was launched, any local TV or radio just wouldn’t suffice. 

In places like Africa and post-soviet era Eastern Europe at that time, only one MTV channel existed while the UK and USA and most of Europe already enjoyed at least MTV2. Some of MTV 2’s programming however would spill off into the late night programming for the African region and this is where we would first come face to face with Aphex Twin. Richard D James’ visage, superimposed on a small army of delinquent nymphs causing havoc on a council estate in the UK would forever keep a generation of us awake at night.  

Aphex Twin’s “Come to Daddy” and the video, directed by Chris Cunnigham, had set a new precedent in music videos. It was something we’d never seen before and accompanying music that was completely new and exciting for an adolescent mind craving something on the edge of provocation. Unlike “Firestarter” this would never attract the same kind of mainstream success but for a naïve young music nerd, it opened up a world to the avant garde of electronic music I and my generation didn’t even know existed before then, and we realised there is electronic dance music and then there is good electronic dance music.  

 

The puppet masters

Eventually the entire world of electronic music came knocking at MTV’s offices and what Aphex Twin and the Prodigy laid bare for electronic music videos, would inspire, encourage and in some way assist a few nascent electronic icons. Chris Cunnigham and Walter Stern’s DIY, punkish creative vision for Aphex Twin and Prodigy respectively became a visual contrast to slick music videos that would follow in their wake, but their existence was almost certainly the creative fertiliser for a new wave of artistic minds.

Shortly after the advent of music television, MTV would usher in a new era for the music video. Gone were the days of lip-syching in mock performance in front of a camera. The new format quickly demanded a more engaging form of entertainment and we entered an age of music videos as cinematic vignettes through the lens of future legendary auteurs. After the Buggles and Dire Straits’ stale performance-based videos, bold pieces like “Thriller,” “November Rain” and “Like a Prayer” set a new precedent or music videos, with narrative and cinematic visuals encapsulating the drama and intrigue that the music often failed to capture by itself. 

It set a visual precedent that would lead to MTV listing the name of the director in the title blurb, laying as much importance on the person behind the lens as in front of it. Coming into their own into this world, future household names like Hype Williams, Spike Jonze and Michael Bay would emerge through the music video medium with Hollywood beckoning just beyond that. 

One of the more exciting directors that would come out of this camp was Michel Gondry whose  filmography today includes Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Be Kind Rewind, but who had his start as a music video director and whose videos include that very famous lego block interpretation of “Fell in Love with a girl” from the White Stripes. There was one particular video however that would always enshrine the name Michel Gondry in the electronic music lexicon, and that was Daft Punk’s “Around the world.” 

Although Michel Gondry had already produced music videos for the likes of Björk ,the inherent charm and funkiness of “Around the World” as a song and a music video had gripped a generation. The faceless nature of electronic music and its artists who like Daft Punk tended to hide behind virtual and real masks in the introspective way of the music had given directors like Gondry complete creative license and they delivered some of the most stimulating and effective visuals for this very repetitive music. 

Robots and skeletons climbing staircases to nowhere, dancing around a central disc of mummies, made some literal connection to the title of the song, but also reflected the mesmerising effect of staring at a record on a deck. It was absolutely transfixing and it set a high artistic standard for music videos that would follow in its footsteps. In that rare anomaly that contains a director and musician, Mr. Ozio would arrive in that French filter House world shortly after, pulling at the strings of Flat Eric for his now iconic video and track, Flat Beat.

Quentin Dupieux (aka Mr. Ozio) had initially created the puppet, Eric for a famous Levis advertising campaign, but it would be the image Flat Eric head-banging in his office chair that would live on in infamy through the video for “Flat Beat.” Would Mr. Ozio or “Flat Beat” ever be as popular were it not for his yellow hand-puppet creation? That’s a question mulled very often and always leans tentatively to … no. You can buy a Flat Eric puppet today for your infant or your own adolescent whims and I daresay it probably sells better than the recent re-issue of the original record, but the two would go hand in hand in making the song “Flat Beat” the icon it remains to be today. 

There really weren’t any rules during this time for how a music video should look or act. From Groove Armada’s Superstylin’ aliens looking for a venue for their party, to Benny Benassi’s ridiculous, but satisfying DIY building  routine, electronic music was making for some entertaining TV, and even though the music would get a bit cheesy, you would still watch it merely for the entertainment value of the video itself. You could always flick the mute button on Benassi’s saw tooth cacophony…

 

Superstar DJ, here we go  

While artists like Daft Punk would have certainly made a severe impact on the electronic music scene regardless, MTV played some integral part in making them stars and household names. Even your Dad who scurried for the remote every time Firestarter came on, was now awkwardly trying to mimic Christopher Walken in Fatboy’s Slim’s Weapon of Choice or getting the lyrics completely wrong to Moby’s Natural Blues. 

When electronic dance music went mainstream and in the age of the superstar DJ, inflated egos and big budgets had made serious claims on MTV’s daily programming to a point where it would almost be dominated either by the stone-faced Christopher Walken, dancing through a hotel lobby or an angelic Christina Ricci floating around an empty hospital corridor with an incapacitated, ageing Moby in her arms. 

But as MTV drifted further into the banality of the “real world” and reality tv programming started to dominate and then completely do away with the music video, even these big budget pompous affairs would be a welcomed addition in our daily media intake. You can still watch these videos on YouTube of course, but new electronic music very rarely produces the same standard of videos, and as such the music videos impact has waned, and the music has to do all the heavy lifting now. 

Very often their little more than a looping gif intended to take you to the digital record store that sells them, and they don’t hold much of your attention for the duration of the track. While a lot of electronic music has certainly improved since MTV’s golden era for electronic dance music and there is certainly more music accessible through social media and the Internet, it’s something we don’t see much of today, which makes the era of electronic music on music television such an important time and place for a lot of music enthusiasts of my generation. It was our doorway to this music and don’t think we’ll ever see the likes of it again.

Album of the Week: André Bratten – Pax Americana

There’s a coy elusiveness to André Bratten and his music. As a listener you are never quite prepared for the next offering, and you hang on in some hesitant anticipation, waiting for the next musical strand that will take the Norwegian producer’s fancy and the execution to follow. From the neo-Disco of “Be a Man you Ant;” the booming Techno of “Math Ilium Ion;” the soul-searching electronica of “Gode;” to the ratcheting break-beat Electro of “Valve,” André Bratten’s music is an amorphous creature, one with evanescent engagements to a host of musical tropes from the vast lexicon of electronic music, and yet there’s still something distinctive to be found in his work.

Perhaps it’s even the fleeting nature of the music itself, but there’s a calculated effort behind the music; a mesmerising nature to the artist that keeps bringing you back to the music and waiting on bated breath just to hear what he’ll do next. As each LP or EP trains his efforts on a particular outcome in some temporally-affected concept, he maximises its effects, giving each new record yet another unique evolution in his sound as an artist. It’s never quite a reinvention of the artist behind the music, but rather a change in the point of view, yielding new and different results every time.

On “Pax Americana” his latest LP, the second in a short, but succinct discography, he changes direction yet again, but with three tracks from then LP released as 12″ singles during the course of the year, he had thoroughly prepared his audience for the record that would arrive on Smalltown Supersound this time around. There’s more of a cohesive thread between this record and the last, “Gode” than there was between “Gode” or “Math Ilium Ion”and “Be a Man you Ant” with tracks like “HS” and “Commonwealth” playing on the same lonely melancholic tones of its predecessor, but with influences and cues taken from Techno music’s distant past.

Tracks like “Ranx” and “426” bounce along on fast-paced broken beats and enthralling tonal layers that evoke some of early nineties ambient Techno encompassed by Bratten’s now familiar influences: predominantly the early Warp records camp of Aphex Twin, Authecre and Boards of Canada. It’s these influences that Bratten channels through his bold sonic structures which defines his sound as a producer, playing on the textural beauty of those early sounds with a tonal pallete that carves out deep, emotive trenches of sound through their compositions, while broken beats and wistful resonances flutter through the arrangements.

With a wall of sound going through Andre Bratten’s rich analogue sonic practises there’s always been a broodiness accompanying his varied musical adventures. It’s not necessarily something you’d find in a record of this nature, a record that usually thrives in the harshness of excessive polyrhythms and arbitrary melodic pieces intersecting the songs like a single tapestry of noise, but Bratten succeeds in his pursuit and especially on the title track. The warmth of that undulating sub-bass, the pads floating around an some distant memory of a dreamscape, and the stark percussion repurposed as icy melodic atmospheres, all contribute to a track that invites the listener into the cosy depths of a hypnotic sonic maelstrom.

It bears some striking resemblance to Aphex Twin’s classic track “Xtal”  – in spirit rather than sound – defining one part of an LP that seems to be caught between different worlds. In an interview with André Bratten some time ago, he talked at length about the manipulative manner in which he assembles his records. I felt “Pax Americana” finds our artist in that same kind of transitional phase we saw on “Math Ilium Ion,” using the record as a bridge to that next evolution in his work and coercing his audience into that sound through a few tracks, while retaining that tether to his previous records. The LP’s brief existence which is only  6 tracks long would suggest the same and there’s almost no doubt that this will lead into another record made up of more tracks like “Pax Americana” and “Rank.”

It puts this record at another crucial pivot point in  Bratten’s elusive career, and yet again we are left in hesitant anticipation where André Bratten’s records will take us next on his ever deviating journey through electronic music and the extensive breadth of his sound.

Introducing: Even & Ilay

Even (Eide) and Ilay (Bachke) are setting a new destructive precedent on Oslo’s dance floors. Their punkish designs on left-leaning Techno genres like EBM and Industrial have tormented dance floors in Oslo and places like Lithuania and Glasgow for the past 4 years. Part of a few DJs in Oslo that are permeating the grittie, DIY aspects of dance music, Even & Ilay are an anomaly, diametrically opposed to the slick formulaic House and Techno that dominates dance floors today. 

They’ve avoided the ubiquitous producer/DJ role to focus purely on DJing and bringing that particular sound to the dance floor; a sound that can vary, from downtempo churning drones to blistering, distorting Techno, all punctuated with a primal, uncompromising attitude to music. They’ve never so much as released a set online, but they’re already prominent figures at places like Hærverk, where they’ve recently established their own club night, the very aptly charged Racing Club; disseminating the sound that they perpetuate in the booth through bringing artists like Nocturnal Emissions to Oslo. 

They’ve been an elusive force in Oslo and our paths have crossed on more than one occasion. At a recent event at Revolver, they closed out the evening with a hefty onslaught of unapologetic dance floor cuts in their unique way, not giving an inch at peak time on the dance floor, their unsuspecting audience locked in a frenzy right up until the last bell rang out at the bar. They were completely in their element, the dance floor submitting to the raw energy of the music. It’s the first time I’ve seen them in this context, and usually they can be found playing a more reserved, although equally provocative sets for the more discerning music heads at intimate events and places like Mir, the aforementioned Hærverk and at Raymond T Hauger’s den Gyldne Sprekk events at Jaeger. 

Ahead of their next appearance at Jaeger, we sought them out to find out more about Even & Ilay and met up for a chat at Blå. They are enrolled in film studies, where naturally they’ve gravitated to sound, and have taken a break from a project they are working on for an interview and a beer. The stuff they do for film is a world away from the music they play in their sets they tell me. “That’s kind of funny,” says Even, “because our music tastes are usually recorded on cassette with a lot of noise and stuff, but the studies are about making everything sound really clean.” 

They’re very pragmatic about their decision to study film over the ubiquitous path through music production course and it’s this very unusual kind of perception that sets them apart from their contemporaries. I soon realise it’s one of the many reasons that Even & Ilay are unique figures for their generation and why they’re sure to be future luminary’s for the next generation of DJ breaking through. 

When and why did you start DJing together. 

llay: 2015. We were always listening to music and it came naturally when more music got discovered. 

Even: I guess we got bored of Disco and House and then we wanted something else. 

You would’ve been under 21 then. Did you ever feel like there was a place in Oslo for you to play or listen to this kind of music when you were starting out? 

I: We usually had a fake IDs, still there were some places that didn’t really care like Taxi Take-Away or Maxi Taxi. They had a lot of different kinds of music, but they were open so we could bring our own music. 

You played at Maxi Taxi and Taxi Take-away before they closed down. How did places like that influence your musical tastes as DJs? 

E: We started playing at Taxi Take-away and Maxi Taxi. A lot of the inspiration was from the aesthetics of that place, we wanted to find a lot of tracks that fit with the look of the place; it was perfect for the stuff we discovered. 

I: We’ve been influencing each other throughout. In the beginning we didn’t use to play together. After some time, we have found lots of the same music. 

I noticed you play a lot of records, has that always been there? 

E: We started with only playing records, but then we switched to some USB and some vinyl; I played all my records too many times. 

I: In the beginning it was strictly records, but then we realised there was way too much music out there that was not available on vinyl and now it’s more of a 50/50 thing. 

Where do you find most of your music? 

E: Mostly searching Youtube, Soundcloud and then we look at distribution sites like Juno and Lobster Theremin. We also use Discogs. 

I: Discogs is where I spent most of my time, to be able to check out all the labels and all the sublabels and the artists signed to those labels. I also used a lot of blogs and websites on the internet where people share a lot of old undiscovered stuff. 

Is it mostly new music? 

E: I like the combination of playing some old techno, house, new beat, and then some new stuff. I think it’s cool to try and mix it up

It’s quite difficult, since a lot of that old stuff just wasn’t recorded that well, and doesn’t hold up to a lot of new music. 

E: I’ve had some bad experiences, where a track I really like sounds great on my speakers at home, but then I play it out in a place and it sounds really shitty and people can’t dance to it, because the recording is so horrible. 

What made you pick up DJing in the first place. 

I: It was just a fun thing to do when you’re listening to music all the time. I instantly felt I wanted to spend more time finding new music, and it just felt natural to also play. 

Was it through the youth club that you learnt to DJ, like so many of your older peers in Norway? 

E: No we just started at home with some cheap record players. I had a boomblaster hooked up to the record players through a shitty mixer with no eq and only a crossfader. It was really nice to beatmatch that way, because you had to get it perfect to sound good. 

I: We had a pretty crap record player where you had to give it a push to get the motor going.

I associate the kind of music that you play with that darker EBM, punk-Techno sound. What drew you to that sound? 

E: When we started, we wanted to find something that was exciting and new. When we found labels like Contort Yourself, Unknown Precepts, Sign Bit Zero, Rat Life, Lux Rec, Mannequin, Dark Entries etc we started finding that those labels were fairly new as well. When Contort Yourself started with their first record, we found that sound in the club music, so I guess we were just part of this new wave that’s been really inspired by eighties industrial music.

I: I listened to a lot of industrial stuff and when I started hearing those labels converting it into contemporary club music it pretty much settled my idea for what I wanted to play as a DJ.

Do you have any relationship with labels like Jealous God and City Trax? 

E: For sure…

That’s something I wanted to ask you too, do you feel there is any place you can actually listen to that music today in Oslo? 

I: There’s a lot of cool stuff happening in Oslo, and even though we don’t have the dedicated clubs and there are so few people playing it, we know some people that DJ this kind of music regularly. You also had Ron Morelli who was just at Jaeger as an example of how there is a lot of good music coming to Norway as well. 

E: There is a lot of stuff happening even if doesn’t seem like it. Oslo has a varied music scene. 

I: It’s kind of small so it’s possible to do stuff yourself. That’s why we’ve started booking artists for Kafé Hærverk for our concept Racing Club. We started with Nocturnal Emissions and Philippe Laurent, and we still have many upcoming artists for the autumn, such as Five o’clock Traffic from Börft to name one. 

And that crowd is probably more receptive to that kind of music. 

E: I wouldn’t play records from Jealous God there, but more punk, music that fits a small room. 

Similar to what you might play at Jaeger on Tuesday? 

E: I feel it’s fun to bring our own style but also try to adapt to the people that are at Jaeger. 

I: Wherever we play, I feel like it’s always fun to push the line to how obscure you can have it, before people leave the club. In some places that line can be pushed a lot longer, but still we try it. It gives something new to the sets that we play, and makes every set different. 

I feel that your set at Revolver a few weeks ago, was probably something you want to do more of. 

E: Definitely. It was just great, because it mixed really well with Xander’s (Burrell Connection), it was really nice to have that build up and we finish off with some crazy electro. 

And everybody stayed! 

I: It didn’t look like the people there were into Techno in any special way, they were just out to have fun. Playing for people that don’t have any of these expectations, and when not everyone in the crowd is a dj i’s always fun. 

You mentioned playing in Lithuania and I know you’ve played in Glasgow too. You probably play more abroad than any other DJ in your field. Is it purely from social networking online? 

E: Yeah, because we never released any of our own stuff, and we’ve never put any of our mixes out before, so I guess it was just that we met the right people, and they understood what  we were doing. Whenever we play in Lithuania, nobody knows who we are so nobody really shows up though. 

It was just about bonding with the club promoter and about the kind of music you like? 

E: Basically it was from Digital Tsunami in Lithuania. 

What about the music you’re making, is there any intention to bring it out into the world? 

E: We’re just having fun and also I don’t feel like we are that good. We don’t have any music background; we just try to explore the kind of sounds that we like and it’s also kind of half-assed.(Laughs) 

I: We never use enough time. When we find something we like we just press record and record it into one track on the computer and that’s it. 

That’s the way it should be. 

I: Yes, and we get that rough sound. That’s what we like in music, stuff that isn’t super-well produced, but just stuff that is homemade. Stuff that just hits. 

Do you ever play it in your sets. 

I: Sometimes, just for fun. 

Through everything you’ve said You two strike me as DJs doing something completely unique to everybody else. Do you even feel there is a scene around what you guys are doing? 

I: Yes, Techno is pretty big in Norway at the moment and there are a lot of raves happening and people who are not DJs are coming to dance to this music. There are quite a few DJs who do cool stuff that’s easy to get behind, and I’m looking forward to continue collaborating on the next events we have coming up. 

E: I think the Techno scene in Oslo is getting bigger, so I guess the thing that we are doing will be more popular at some point. 

 

*Even & Ilay plays Den Gyldne Sprekk tonight.

Over the counter at Filter Musikk with Jokke & Roland Lifjell

Whenever I walk into Filter Musikk of late Depeche Mode is playing over a pair of monitors out the back of the store. The store is lively on this particular occasion even though it’s close to closing time, and I find Roland Lifjell milling about between the floor and the back room where 1000s of records line the wall and synthesisers, drum machines and turntables at various stages of repair are scattered across surfaces. 

Dave Gahan’s voice evokes some drug-induced 80’s memory between Martin Gore’s steely guitar work and Andy Fletcher’s industrial percussive rhythms in the background, while Roland scurries around the store in pursuit of something for a new customer. YouTube has defaulted into playing Depeche Mode of late he tells me when he gets a moment. “There could be worse defaults,” I reply through a live version of “Enjoy the Silence.” I’m not surprised that it’s a very specific era of Depeche Mode that Roland Lifjell enjoys, the post-Vince Clarke years, when they were conjuring a darker aspects of synth-pop music. 

At one of the listening stations, Joakim “Jokke” Dahl Houmb is going through some records he picked from the newly arrived pile, and waves a hello in my direction nodding along to something that I have no doubt is some blistering Techno track, a wispy noise escaping between the headphones. There’s still time to pursue some new and old records before Roland shuts the door, not that he ever would ever kick a customer out. I find DJ Sports’ latest offering on Help recordings and a Richard Pryor record that would make an excellent sample for a House track. 

Jokke pays for his records, but there are still customers dotting the store with records under their arms. “Close the door” says Jokke “we don’t want you to get anymore customers” his tone conveying the mirth in the remark. 

Can you remember the first record you ever bought here? 

Jokke: I bought too many here. It’s gotta be some years ago, but I can’t remember exactly.

Jokke and Roland’s history goes way back to when Jokke was an emerging DJ in Oslo at a time when Techno was getting its fourth, maybe fifth wind, back around the turn of this decade. After getting into DJing through the accessible digital systems like Serato he had found a passion for the vinyl format after visiting Spacehall in Berlin. When he returned home to Oslo, its counterpart in Oslo Filter Musikk became a regular haunt for the burgeoning DJ.

It conspired around the time when he and Ole-Espen “O/E” Kristiansen just started out as promoters in Oslo with their  clandestine after-hours DIY Techno events called VOID. With almost no places available in Oslo to hear or play that music at the time, Jokke and Ole-Espen set out on their own, to bring the emerging sounds of Berlin Oslo and had almost instantly garnered a severe and intense following.  

By that time Jokke and Roland had already become fast friends. As the elder statesman of the Oslo DJ circuit and Techno, Roland saw in Jokke a new generation of DJs and tastemakers that corresponded with what he had been doing through Filter Musikk and as a DJ in the preceding years. It was always going to be a mere formality that Roland would play a VOID party.

Roland: I remember playing at the VOID party.

The first one?

J: No the third one.

R: I attended the first one at least, the one with Lucy at Hausmania. It was very loud. Jokke & Ole-Espen were focusing on some artists that I missed out on; they were very on-point with what was going on. I remember I had to shape up and prove myself, because these guys knew what was going on. 

The VOID parties had made a significant impact on the scene, bringing over artists like Lucy, Jonas Kopp and Northern Structures in their brief, but  fundamental existence on the Norwegian scene. In their wake they inspired and revitalised a dormant Techno scene that took the VOID model and applied it to their own concepts, often with lesser results. 

It led to a saturation of after-hours events that brought the wrong kind of attention, leaving Jokke and Ole-Espen no choice but to abandon VOID’s nocturnal pursuits for more legitimate events like their Musikkfest Oslo stage, and with Ole-Espen and Jokke pursuing their own concepts on the side. 

But VOID’s impact is undeniable today. At Musikkfest Oslo in 2019 two new Techno stages had cropped up on the lineup appearing alongside VOID, who had been the first bonafide Techno event to engage with the Oslo music event for the masses. All three stages were busy this year and I dare say none of that would’ve been possible if  Jokke and Ole-Espen hadn’t set the precedent for this new era of Techno in Oslo through VOID. 

I heard a couple of younger DJs talking about VOID and referring  to Jokke and Ole as one of the “old boys”. Do you feel like an old boy?

J: I’m comfortable with being one of the old boys. 

What does that make you, Roland?

R: Ja. (Laughs) 

Roland Lifjell has been a significant figure in Oslo since the birth of Techno. A DJ first and foremost, he cut his teeth in the burgeoning Trance and Techno scene cropping up in Oslo’s surrounding forest area in the nineties. Appearing at a time when there was a lot more fluidity to electronic music genres, and the distinction between Detroit Techno and German Trance was hazy and opaque and your merit as a DJ was weighed by your record collection, Roland Lifjell came to the fore not merely for his skills as a DJ for his expansive knowledge of his music.

Encouraged by his love of physical DJ format, he spent his professional career working in record distribution and sales before opening his own shop at the turn of the 2000’s while securing his place in Oslo DJ community as one of the stalwart monoliths of the scene.  

His skills took him all over the world, playing places like Tresor all the while claiming his stake as one of the legends of the Norwegian Techno scene. Through Filter Musikk he’s also been an unwavering facilitator, not just supplying the DJ community with records, but encouraging the next generation of DJs to come through. His love for sad synthesiser music still remains at the core of everything he does as a DJ and record store owner, and he’s been unwavering that pursuit ever since. As if to punctuate my thoughts, Depeche Mode gives way to Cure’s Lullaby in the background and Jokke comes back into the conversation when a thought suddenly strikes him. 

J: I think the first record I bought here must have been a House record.

R: I think you bought some Kompakt stuff.

J:Shhhhhh…

R: O, ok so only mention the credible stuff? (laughs)

Yeah, Roland would know all your darkest secrets.

J: Yeah he’s a nice guy so he bought most of the Tech-House records back. There are still some left so I’ll have to make some chip bowls out of those.

R: I think you gave me a Kompakt record, because you had an extra copy and I was touched. Unfortunately it wasn’t a record I really liked, but I couldn’t sell it because it was a nice gift. 

J: (Laughs)

R: I think it’s a nice gesture. I’m a businessman so I’m always selling records, so it’s difficult for me to give a record away. The concept of giving someone a record is not something I come across that often so that felt even more special.

J: I bought too many records in a short period of time, so I bought the same records two or three times, so those records were always on their own shelf, giveaway records.   

You gave me a record once.

J: I give everybody records. I gave you Alien Rain, the black one, but you didn’t get the sticker. 

Roland dashes out from behind the counter, to let a customer back into the store. She’s picking up some music equipment she had bought earlier. Jokke’s attention turns to some the DJ sports record. That’s a really great record he opines. It might not be the type of record that you’d expect in a Jokke DJ set, but the energy and uncompromising tempo is something that finds some synergy with the kind of thing Jokke might play at peak time. 

He and Roland might have been stuck with the Techno badge, but the pair are nothing if not flexible to the extent that they interpret the genre. When Roland last played the Filter Musikk night at Jaeger, there were moments when the set reached out to some transcendental heights, touching the celestial spheres of the melodic spectrum, while monstrous 4-4 percussive arrangements churned on along subterranean trajectories. 

There’s a fluidity between the functionalism of modern Techno and the more etheric nature of the genre’s roots, that Jokke often counterpoints with bold, brooding droning Techno. When Roland and Jokke get together the pair found ineffable common ground between Jokke’s intrepid selections and Roland’s controlled sonic aesthetic. 

What made you realise that you had a similar taste in music, what were the records that cemented your fascination with this thing we call Techno?

R: I’m one of the few DJs that played serious Techno, even during the early nineties when we were playing Trance. At the same party back then you could play a Basic Channel record, or you could play a Trance record, then you could put on something from Jeff Mills, and then put on a Superstition record from Germany. And if you fit it together it made sense.

Very few DJs in Oslo had that same sense; a lot of DJs that play deep House today, they’re not really into electronic music. For me there were two different worlds, you had the Oslo House DJs, who were just commercial club House DJs and I feel that I’ve been quite alone in this very serious stuff.

Why do you think that is?

R: I think in Oslo it’s a bit dark, you don’t get stimulated, and that’s why people move to Berlin, because that’s where you have the environment and the people around you. 

That’s the point of my story; when Jokke came along and the VOID parties started happening they brought that Berlin vibe here.

J: We gave him that new spark.

R: I was inspired; it showed that seriousness to it.

Surely, now that Techno is experiencing a lot of hype at the moment, you can’t still feel alone?

J: The term has been misused of late. A lot of people convoluted Techno with a lot of other genres. Yes, Techno is very popular now, but at least 50% of people saying they’re doing Techno music, they got it wrong. Either it’s minimal, or Tech-House with more aggressive bass lines, but it doesn’t have that Techno vibe. Yeah, Techno is at its peak in popularity, but for the people that are really into Techno, it just gets annoying. I’d rather quit Techno.

That happened in the early 2000’s, when everybody abandoned Techno.

J: It’s always going to happen. Popularity ruins the music, and every genre goes in waves… I’m still waiting for Trance to make its comeback. 

R: I was playing at the Monument festival this weekend, and for me it felt like the old kind of psy-Trance community thing. It was an outdoor festival with good sound and kind of spacey trancy music. You couldn’t really play a Jeff Mills record there, and people were dancing like they were floating through the music, so there wasn’t any point to playing any percussive Techno.

J: The moral of the story is don’t put on a Jeff Mills record if you see people with dreads. 

Roland’s shy chuckle fills the air, like I’ve heard it do so many times before. People like Jokke go in for the records, but they always stay for the conversation. It’s what makes Filter Musikk such a gem and one the last of its kind in a world that’s dominated by a virtual culture online. You can walk into Filter and at any given time there will be a conversation waiting for you, very much like this one that I walked into on this day. 

Yes, those conversations usually revolve around music, but music’s cultural influence reaches far and wide and touches on everything from politics to humour. Most record stores today are some kind of front for some brand. Places like Hardwax, Rush Hour and Phonica have become businesses with DJ booking agencies, promo agents and distribution attached, losing touch with that intimate social hub that the record store used to be. Filter Musikk is one of the last physical bastions of record culture that still indulge these crucial elements, and it’s only right that it should have its own night in Oslo to commemorate and proliferate that spirit. 

Tell me a bit about how the Filter Musikk nights came to be and how are you, Jokke involved in it?

J: I was hanging out here most of my free time, and I was working at Jaeger building stuff, and also playing there for a couple of years. I thought it was weird that he hadn’t been playing there at all. I thought to myself, here’s this kind of guru guy who I go and see all the time and buy records from, why is he not playing any places. 

He’s been an inspiration to me. He knows what Techno I’m into and what kind of records I like. So I just had to ask Ola; why can’t Roland play at Jaeger more? In the beginning I was just trying to get Roland to play at Jaeger. I thought there was enough room for us both to do our separate Techno nights, and then Ola asked if Roland would be more interested on fronting Filter for a night. That sounded like a good idea… Filter is my “fritidsklubb” — the place I go when I have time off.

Ola asked if we could do it together, so it’s not entirely my idea.

Are you happy with the nights so far?

R: Absolutely.

J: It’s a fucking record shop and it’s the best one in Oslo, it’s been here for years, it should be fronted and Roland should be playing as a resident at Oslo’s best club. That’s a no-brainer.

Yeah, everywhere else in the world record shops used to have their own club nights, why shouldn’t it happen here.

R: Of course, now nobody needs vinyl anymore and there is a danger that people can overlook the key centre for music, so it’s good to be part of it. Jaeger is the right place. 

J: We’re not going to let go of this regardless of how few people come to listen to us play, because we’re not doing this for fame or anything.  We’re still going to be doing it, even if we’re just doing it in our own bedrooms. 

 

*Roland Lifjell annd Jokke play Frædag x Filter Musikk next week.

The cut with Filter Musikk

Overheard at Filter Musikk: “Yeah, he’s a nice guy, he bought all my Tech-House records back.” Roland Lifjell is a nice guy and will buy a record back from a customer, even if he might not have sold it to said customer. It says something about the calibre of the proprietor of Filter Musikk, but also it says something about the calibre of the music that comes through the store. He’s so secure in the handpicked selection that he permeates through the store, that even if it is only a passing fancy for one punter, he’d happily absorb it back into the collection, where it will bide its time waiting for a new fan. 

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Disclaimer: The words expressed here within are the creative ramblings of Jaeger Oslo’s editor, and in no way, shape or form do they reflect the opinions or practises of Filter Musikk. 

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New records might sit on his shelf for a little longer than expected, but as they migrate into the selected label shelves or even further back into genre specific crates and maybe even later in the bargain bins, eventually some doe-eyed future selector, with a fresh pair of ears will pick up on the record and present it in a new light to a future generation. 

Every record at Filter Musikk has an ear waiting to hear it, from the latest hyped fancy that sells out in a matter of minutes to the more obscure curiosity for the more adventurous listener and DJ — the records that usually stand the test of time. Even these new records that we feature on this segment, they might not be exalted until later in life, even after death sometimes, but the fact that they are adorning the shelves at Filter Musikk merits their own worth in every respect.

Who knows, maybe Tech-House too will eventually get its just deserts… although does it deserve it? Hand picked by one of the finest selectors of our generation, Roland Lifjell, this is the cut with Filter Musikk. We dig through the latest arrivals at Filter Musikk and where our tastes converge with the man behind the counter, that’s where you’ll find the cut with Filter Musikk. 

 

The Hypnotist ‎– Hardcore U Know The Score 2019 (Rising High Records) 12”

There was never anything quite hypnotic about Caspar Pound and Peter Smith’s Hypnotic project; unless their idea of hypnosis was being repeatedly hit over the head with a blunt object. The bulstruous, but short lived project that also spawned groups like Dominatrix UK; A Homeboy, A Hippie & A Funki Dredd, Talisman and Temple of Acid had made a prominent contribution to the post-rave-hangover Hardcore generation through their music and through their label, Rising High, but like the genre itself quickly flickered out into obscurity after mid-nineties, until recently.

With Hardcore’s recent resurgence, it’s only natural that a track like “Hardcore You know the Score” get its time in the limelight again too. The brutal intensity of the record has waned little and it’s curious, and a little cheeky to hear the original there in its original form on B2, completely untouched by the modern processes of the digital mastering age as far as I can discern. I guess the record is all about the remixes on this occasion — there are original copies floating around for a fraction of a hoover sample all over Discogs anyway. 

Remixes by Disintegrator and Innercore dust off the cobwebs, apply a little sonic polish to bring back its original glean and then violently hurl it out at the dance floor where chaos ensues. Applying some modern touches in the production process without losing the essential elements of that hardcore sound, the tortured keys, the cacophonous broken beats and the lysergic bass lines. It’s a very robust and intimidating record, but then again you said you wanted hardcore… 

 

E.R.P. / Duplex ‎– Fr-Dpx (Frustrated Funk) 12”

It’s a split 12” from two of the most unwavering artists in the Electro genre on one of the busiest labels currently working in that field. E.R.P and Duplex (although they appear as DPX on the inner disc) adorn the two sides of this latest Frustrated Funk release, and if you’re expecting anything other than Electro, I do not know how to help you. 

What’s interesting about this record is that the DPX track is actually a remix by Ovatow, aka Klen (real name, Wilco Klen van Bennekom), the enigma behind the controls of the Frustrated Funk label. On what is a rare occasion on the label, the wizard pulls back the curtain and appears on his own label, with a glitching remix of Duplex’s “Molecular” taken from a 2016 DPX record. The Ovatow remix strips the original back to an austere husk for a stuttering, bleep version of the lush original. 

It’s a record that otherwise seems purely coincidental, with an E.R.P track that just happened to be lying around, but didn’t have the right vehicle or was cut somewhere from another release; perhaps event the last LP for Forgotten Futures (which is also at Filter believe it or not). E.R.P creates a salacious undertow to the other side with big bouncing bass-lines and his unique layered approach to the Electro genre. 

Like every record in Frustrated Funk’s discography it simply exists for the sake of existing and it’s only pursuit it seems to keep the momentum of Electro going, and for that reason alone the work that Wilco Klen van Bennekom and Frustrated Funk is worthy of a finding a place in a few record collections. 

 

Various ‎– DE:10.03 (De:tuned) 12”

“What about this?” asks Roland Lifjell… “Belgian label awakens old timers and the tracks are usually on a 90’s level of quality.” I can’t tell if he’s joking or if “90’s level of quality” is supposedly a good thing, but I trust Roland emphatically… when it comes to music at least. 

In the world according to De:tuned, it’s like the rest of music has finally caught up to the timeline of acts like Future Beat Alliance, and it’s that sound, that idealistic nineties pursuit of the music of the future that the Belgium label instills through their discography today through new music from these past monoliths of the Techno genre. 

These aren’t re-issues or some forgotten demo seeing the light of day for the first time, but new music in pursuit of “reanimating the sounds from electronic music’s early days.” It’s music that stands the test of time, and as Future Beat Alliance, max 404, John Beltrane, and Mark Archer prove on this collection of tracks for this latest De:tuned release, it’s music that lives beyond time. Those familiar sounds of drum machines and synthesisers which dominate almost all of contemporary music remain and in the hands of these master craftsmen they still sound like the music of the future, especially in an era dominated by perpetual loops and bland consistency. 

It’s “a shame it probably does not sell” says Roland but it would be “very promising if they work more with these artists and get them to release whole albums.” Roland should know, after all.  

 

Alessandro Adriani ‎– Embryo (Stroboscopic Artefacts) 12”

Alessandro Adriani has made one of the most significant and unique contributions to Techno, but not entirely as an artist. His record label Mannequin recordings has been a touchstone for music enthusiasts and DJs alike as the last vestige for the EBM and industrial strain of Techno of the last decade. Prominent Techno DJs like Silent Servant and Freddy K talk about Mannequin in revered tones for the label’s contribution to a particular kind of Techno, from the new music Adriani has released via the label to the very selective and specific re-issues from groups like Din i Testbild.

It’s only in recent years that Adriani has started to etch his name into the label’s own discography, but only minimally, and he still favours releasing his own music via auxiliary labels like Edit Select, Pinkman and Jealous God. In 2019 his career as a recording artist has been marked by a renewed partnership with Stroboscopic Artefacts with an LP and an EP coming out via the label. “Embryo” preceded the LP, “Morphic Dreams,” with the Italian producer’s flair for the dramatic at the core of the industrialised electronic soundscape he conjures from unruly machines.

Noise and stoic percussive arrangements conspire on the fringes of the dance floor as Adriani runs sequences through the progressive forms, cutting through languid pads like barbed wire. Adriani’s sound design is what sets him apart from others working in the same field. That Italian tradition for the flair of the cinematic is very prominent throughout this EP, suggesting perhaps these were some of the tracks that never made it into “Morphic Dreams.” It’s not just a sense of atmosphere he cultivates however, but also a sense of nostalgia, like on the last track, “Aria (New Beat version).”

Moving away from the predominant sounds of processed 909 kick drums saturating Techno at the moment, Adriani’s use of hollow kicks and gated snares, take you a long way back to the origins of EBM and European Techno, back to groups like Nitzer Ebb and Front 242 and the music he perpetuates through his label from artists like //TENSE//.

 

Florian Kupfer ‎– 4Ever EP

After a little hiatus that saw Florian Kupfer release some cassettes, most notably for burgeoning Norwegian label, Hjemme Med Dama, the German producer is back on the vinyl medium with a 12” for Axe Traxx. 

4Ever EP picks up the thread laid down on previous records by Kupfer on labels like L.I.E.S and WT Records. Kupfer continues to play on that  contrast between overzealous percussive workouts and deep benign electronic textures. With kick drums creaking under the weight of distortion and hi-hats splashing between noise and harmony, there’s an evident energy that pulses through the record, but it’s somewhat restrained by the deep, modulating keys that weave their way through the minimalist productions.

Besides the scattered breakbeats of “Why,” Kupfer’s sights remain on the dance floor for this record, with form-hugging four-four kicks setting the pace for syncopated percussive jaunts and languid harmonic and melodic movements created from sensuous warm analogue tones.

An unconscious projection of Aurora Borealis with Jarle Bråthen

Jarle Bråthen is one in a googleplex. He’s one of the most endearing characters to come out of the Norwegian space Disco era, a self-effacing musical polymath and an enigmatic presence in the booth. His reserved output is matched only by his dedication to the art DJing, with a sincerity for the craft and the music pacing through his sets and his productions. 

A Full Pupp affiliate, Bråthen’s original compositions and remixes are known for their galaxian trajectory, tripping through the cosmos of icy synthetic textures on primordial percussive waves of rhythm to exotic locations. With an artistic voice like his variegated record collection, Jarle Bråthen is an eclectic soul with an encyclopedic knowledge of music, from obscure B-sides to ABBA. 

Although he’s still a significant fixture on the DJ circuit in Norway, he spends most of his time in Berlin these days, spending his time between the studio and DJ booths like the one at Paloma Bar or Bohnengold. Always a welcomed pleasure in Jaeger’s booth and an infectious selector wherever he goes, Jarle Bråthen sets never disappoint.

He returns to Jaeger tonight for the Bogota Records showcase with a new record for the Oslo label and some other exciting news on the production front. We took the opportunity to shoot over some burning questions via email on one of the hottest days ever recorded in Berlin and he obliged on his way to the studio.    

Hello Jarle and welcome back to Jaeger. What are you listening to at the moment? 

Thank you very much!  I’m listening to: X-ray Connection – Get Ready (Petko Turner’s & James Rod’s Fama De America Edit) 

The last time you played here, you were scratching records from the rotary mixer. What do you have in mind for this upcoming set? 

This time I’m just gonna play FX, hehe. No, for Saturday I’ve planned for a more streamlined set. 

It’s a Bogota night, and you’ve got a new record coming soon to the label. Can you tell us a bit more about the record and how it will fit around the night in terms of the records you bring? 

The tracks on Bogota are more uptempo in comparison but I will try to keep the set as deep as my inner compass allows me. 

You’ve done a few remixes for Bogota in the past, but this is your first venture of original music outside of Full Pupp I believe. What is it about this record that was destined to be on Ivaylo’s label? 

I have several original tracks outside Full Pupp but Ivaylo asked me to make some for Bogota. So as a kind of commission for the label, I pushed my production style to challenge myself creatively and ended up with a likable result. 

You generally have quite a reserved output. What do you need to make a record and why do you prefer to do it only on occasion? 

I produce a lot but not necessarily push to release the stuff all the time. For a while this “pushing” was killing my creative process. For example; If I thought one of my tracks reminded me of a certain label’s sound, I would listen to that label’s output to make my track sound coherent. This also made me “stressed” about music making all together. I find myself the best when I just stay in the music making processes not thinking of what comes next. If that made any sense? 

Btw, there are a lot of stuff in the production pipeline for instance a solo EP on Beatservice Rec, and collaborations with Hard Ton, Miss Plug Inn and Local Suicide. 

What are the perfect conditions for you to sit down and start making music? 

There are no perfect conditions so I make the space in both schedule and head to produce. 

What usually inspires you outside of music? 

Stand up comedy 

I assume that you consider yourself a DJ first and foremost. How did you get into the DJ thing? 

I consider myself a music fan first before DJ. I used to dance a lot as a kid at the youth club but wanted the dj to play the music I could dance to. The DJ said why don’t you DJ yourself so you can hear the tracks you want. Slowly I moved from the dancefloor and into the booth. 

When did you notice you had a knack for it? 

When I felt it was somewhat effortless to beatmatch and pick out tracks that people danced to. 

How do you think you’ve evolved as a DJ since then? 

I come from a mainstream background so music content has evolved towards a bit more underground and electronic way. And still is evolving… 

You’ve definitely got that Norwegian eclecticism and musical sincerity in what you do in the booth. What do you look for in records and how would you define your sets for the uninformed? 

I can’t put my finger on it but there is a certain “weighty bump” in the groove that resonates with me. Set wise I think I’m all over the place but some of my friends tell me that I have kind of a red thread in my sets that I can’t really hear. 

Why, the move to Berlin? 

To feel free, meet open minded people and the musical opportunities that are not other places. I also took my bachelor degree in electronic music production here. 

With you, the Sex Tags guys, Charlotte Bendiks and Karima F all there, there’s quite a healthy Norwegian faction in the German city and you’re all very popular there as far as I can understand. Why do you think the kind stuff you and the likes of Fett Burger play resonates with the Berliners? 

An unconscious projection of Aurora Borealis. 

Having said all that you regularly still play in Norway. How do you have to adapt your sets for Norwegian audiences today? 

I usually adapt my sets to the venues not the countries. 

I always thought that you can be a bit more experimental in Berlin, since you have those long sets. Is this something that you’ve experienced, and what is the usual trajectory a longer Jarle Bråthen set would follow? 

Let me get this clear: I love long sets! Starting easy to get everyone onboard the tu tu train ride. Slowly increasing the bpm with a mixture of  longer stretches of one style to develop into another and differentiate from hot to cold soundscapes, building it up to a bit faster and harder climaxes. 

You know that on the other side of the night you’re playing, we’ll have MC Kaman selecting some guilty pleasures by request. What is your guiltiest pleasure when it comes to music? 

ABBA – Chiquita 

Thank Jarle for answering these for us. Do you have anything you’d like to add? 

I am really looking forward to play in the Jæger backyard with Ivaylo. 

Thanks JB 

Spontaneous body music with Dan Tyler from Idjut Boys

Dan Tyler was there at the convoluted vortex of House music, a time before the boundaries that would later cordon off large sections of the same music into distinct factions. At a time where elements of dub, funk, disco and even pop music were merging with the harsh machine sounds of Acid House, Tyler and co-conspirator, Conrad McDonnell come to the fore as Idjut Boys.

Consorting with a nefarious sort, the likes of which included DJ Harvey, Idjut Boys and Tyler contributed to a scene at the height of its popularity, but struck out on an individual trajectory that has seen them weave their esoteric strain of influences, from dub to pop music through 4-4 club music for the last thirty years.

From those first records on their U-Star Records label, released back in the nineties to their last full-length “Versions” on Smalltown Supersound, the Idjut Boys have been a unique force on the House music circuit. Channelling diverse, and obscure musical sources through an analogue mixing desk, the Idjut Boys approach their music, informed by the eclectic musical palette of their record collections and extensive combined experience as DJs.

They’ve had a remarkable impact on Norwegian DJs and tastemakers, ever since Olle Abstract first brought the DJ duo over to Skansen back in the nineties. Their diverse pursuits in the booth and their nerdy appreciation for music is something that has resonated through the generations on the Norwegian DJ circuit, making Tyler and McDonnell household names amongst those with an sincere appreciation for music.

Dan Tyler’s connection with Norway extends even deeper today with a recent move to Oslo, where he’s effortlessly integrated into the DJ community, playing alongside Todd Terje at Villa and establishing his own night at Ingensteds.

He’ll be joining Daniel Gude in the booth this Thursday for another edition of Retro, giving us the impetus to reach out to the Idjut Boy and ask some burning questions about his recent move to Norway, why Rune Lindbæk is hoarding part of his record collection, and what lies ahead for the Idjut Boys in this Q&A, “answered in order and spontaneously.”

You’ve recently moved to Oslo. What brought you over to the city for good?

I came as I met a nice Norwegian lady and we made some children together! …that really doesn’t sound right does it! So I guess I should leave that as my answer… (besides England is about to be run by a over spoilt, self motivated moron and friends so I am happy not to be there as they march blindfolded over the cliff edge). I lived in London for most of my adult life where the volume and the accelerator are on ten, so here feels like a nicer rhythm. Nice for kids too.

And Conrad is still in London. What does this mean for Idjut Boys and your music?

Yep Conrad’s in London, we are going between each others’ places, and trying to get that happening regularly, we can exchange files and collaborate that way, but we always worked analog with a mixing desk and effects, we enjoy the random events and stuff that happens that way that you never get mixing in a computer…both have their merits but the former is definitely an integral part of our musical chaos theory!

How has it affected the way you and Conrad work, and have you noticed a change in the music as a result?

We are doing stuff now, so we’ll see how that works, but the intention  is to mix it together at either of our houses or to run off to a hut with a car full of fun machines and knob turning devices and channel  some electric current.

What are you currently working on or finishing up as Idjut Boys?

We just did a Salsoul records mix cd for Japan, I think there’s a twelve of edits coming from that at some point… right now a remix of the lovely and rather dope Mr Bjørn Torske for Smalltown Supersound here.

The last LP was Versions and that was in 2015. Any plans on another album?

An LP yes… but right now we trying to make some 12’s… club music, things you can play in a club to cause spontaneous body movement or clear a dance floor quickly…

You have quite a legacy over here, and Idjut Boys have a history with Oslo, going back to the Skansen years. What first brought you out here?

Yes Skansen was very fun, lovely Olle Abstract used to bring us a lot and then the dream team of Pal Strangefruit and his royal highness Princess Thomas and with our great friend Rune Lindbaek at the super-fun Nomaden… we had some fantastic times here, also came a fair bit with our friend Kevin McKay of Glasgow underground.  We practiced the art of the savage hangover here… fond memories of coming direct from America to Tromso wearing a Jean Jacket and Converse in 10 inches of welcoming snow…we travelled extensively and Norway was always fun.

What kept bringing you and Conrad back, and working with Norwegian factions like Smalltown Supersound?

We met Joakim from Smalltown Supersound through Rune, I believe. It was great fit for us, a very good person and an absolutely open book musically. We hope to do more together.

And why do you think Idjut Boys’ music and your DJ sets resonate with Oslo audiences?

No idea if our DJ sets do…we play absolutely in the moment, neither of us know what is happening next, nothing planned, just call and response with people, and when that gets going in a fluid way it can be very nice…we’ve been lucky to have some times in a wide spectrum of places and here was one for sure. We also, if allowed, play a pretty open spectrum of music, rooted in some things…. it’s possibly easier to move things around with two people playing because you get to step back and enjoy and observe and then select. We grew up going to clubs and listening to music in an era when things were much less genre specific… one benefit of being old bastards!

Rune Lindbæk mentioned that he had some of your (or maybe it was Conrad’s) record collection at his house in Lillestrøm. How did he end up with your records?

Yep, Rune has 56 large Boxes of my records in his lock up… it will be a voyage of joy to go through them… free record shopping! I shipped them when we were in my partner Linn’s flat without room… it was a fair lot to move, I need to make room for them at home. Thanks for stimulating that thought.

Did you get them back?

No I will fucking get them back! I speak regularly to senior Lindbaek and I’m fairly certain they’ve not been used in a Frisbee championship just yet.

Idjut Boys, it sounds like something an old Jamaican lady might shout at you when you’re acting the fool. I’ve always wanted to know, what’s the story behind the name?

Close…’cha…you rasclat, idjut bwoy!’ Yes, it is derived from inter friend banter; we used to say that to each other regularly for various offences/acts of rank stupidity and abject failure in the pursuit of sensible behaviour.

It started from the DJ booth and a club night, to a label, but what brought you and Conrad together in the first place and what kind of music were you bonding over in the beginning?

We used to go to Tonka with Harvey, Rev, Choci, Markey Mark at the Zap in Brighton and various gatherings… acid house was happening, then Harvey’s club Moist and loads of other things that were going on… so I guess you know all things good…house, disco, pop…we shared a flat, went out far too much and bought way too many records… great times.

We were bonding over constantly pissing our neighbour underneath off with music through the floor. He eventually offered us studio time to cease and desist from playing music… his nice girlfriend used to run into our flat to offer us ‘firm instruction’ and I think his offer was integral to preserving their long term relationship… we were young and stupid as opposed to old and stupid…

Those first records you guys made, there was nothing out there that sounded like that at the time, but I’ve read there was a small dedicated scene with you guys and people like Harvey in London at the time. Why do you think that stuff is still relevant today and outlasted a lot of the more popular stuff from that time?

No idea about any of that…we like certain things there were a lot of people around that knew each other and hung out, which helps. I have no idea if that music is relevant to people now, but age is irrelevant with music to me, I love for example Chicago house still, many of the records are raw and imperfect, but they are human and emotive to me still. The reason they hold up is they were made with a certain spirit and without a book of rules perhaps. All very deep and earnest sounding, but I’m with their church rather than the ‘what’s hip today let’s make some of that, I am a musical Cameleon massiv’… Idjut Boys is a no rules vibration I believe.

How do you think your music has evolved since then?

Let’s see!

What’s the secret for making a successful career in music like yours work for so long?

Random luck, a true love of music and people, and this choice rather than delivering Pizza is how we continue.

 You’ve started a resident night at Ingensteds. Can you tell us a bit about that?

Finn, great guy asked me… I enjoy it, it’s different, as in it’s not a dedicated musical crowd, but nice young people, and they have played good music in there. One of my favourite DJs always is Pal Strangefruit. Brilliant DJ. He plays there. Have you heard of him???

Name sounds familiar…You’ve had club nights in Norway in the past. What are some of the challenges and advantages that you’ve experienced with hosting a club night in Oslo as opposed to London?

I’d like to play everywhere here, but I possibly need to engage in social media and networking and release 14 records a week more than sitting at home playing with machines and attending to my youths entertainment needs!

Do you feel you have to play differently when you play in Oslo and Norway?

Depends where it is and sound… I don’t really play club music if it’s not on a decent system because having done that a few times, the difference is very apparent and fundamentally it sounds left of shit. People generally let you know and dictate that, if you are comfortable then you’ll play with a free spirit.

Lastly, tell us a bit about this upcoming DJ set with Daniel Gude. What are you packing for the night?

I met Daniel when I did a gig at Villa recently with my lovely friend the mighty somewhat musically genius Mr Todd Terjenator… he was ‘security’ asked me a couple of times whether my enthusiastic next door neighbour was being a pain in the ass…I really should have asked him to press the ‘eject button’! … Anyway he told me he had a night, and low and behold he very kindly asked me along.

I don’t remember exactly what I played with Terje, but he said what I played would fit in and I like the idea of what he explained his night is about… it’s a mixture of much of what I’ve played and always play, old and new.

I look forward to it; looks like some great guest have been through. I have no idea what I’ll pack other than too much… some nice music and I trust I will get the ‘eject button’ applied if I offend, confuse or stimulate an uprising…what a great idea, I don’t have many of those…

Album of the Week: Efdemin – New Atlantis

Phillip Sollmann uncovers new worlds on “New Atlantis.” It’s his first record since releasing the seminal LP “Decay” in 2014 on Dial records and it finds the artist at something of a musical crossroads. Sollmann’s capacity for bold experimental electronic music and the functional finally converge on the dance floor, as two distinct aspects of the artist’s work find some harmonious orbit in relation to the other on his latest LP.

“New Atlantis” finds the artist stretched between the work he does under his eponymous moniker and the dance floor creations of his Efdemin alias and for the first time, we find Sollmann channelling some of those avant garde electronic practises of records like “Something is missing“ through his Efdemin nom de plume. The result is a record that functions on both a corporeal and a cognitive dimension, alluring in its sonic design and purposeful in its pragmatic rhythms.

“New Atlantis” is uncharted territory for Sollmann as Efdemin, and it finds the artist dividing his time between the introspective subtleties of sound art and the bold, challenging nature of the modern dance floor. It’s quite a long way off from the focussed sound of ”Decay” as it embarks over a series of tracks that shift remarkably in dynamic design over the course of the record. From the serene droning ambience of tracks like “Oh Lovely Appearance of death” and “At The Stranger’s House“ to the full frontal assault of a track like “Black Sun,” there are two distinct moods that emerge across this record.

When Efdemin trains his sights on the dance floor, he gets raucous with formidable rhythm structures and dark sultry atmospheres clinging to the droning Techno arrangements. There’s something impulsive, more urgent to tracks like “A land Unknown” than we’ve witnessed before in Efdemin’s work. Favouring a notable progressive slant throughout, Sollmann travels great distances on minimalist foundations that waver little from their theme, encouraging the artist to some heady heights. It’s at its most impressive on the extensive title track as lysergic bass lines and droning sine waves weave a sporadic thread through a stoic four-four percussive arrangement.

Through fifteen minutes of restrained improvisation that steady beat goads Sollmann through some expressive melodic modulations that exporting the listener to some intoxicating heights on the pulse of the dance floor. It’s a masterclass in controlled extemporisation from Sollmann and a serious weapon in any DJ bag. Were it for that track alone, the LP would be a worthy addition to any record collection, but there’s so much more to “New Atlantis” than the appeal of its obvious hit. From erratic sonic whirlpool of “Temple” to the listless melodies of “The Sound House” there are many levels to Efdemin’s latest LP.

Efdemin’s sound is still very much in effect on this record, but we truly get the true scope of Sollmann’s extensive voice as an artist on this record. Those things that made “Decay” such a great album are still there, but it also opens up into a more progressive dimension, consolidating the two aspects of Sollmann’s artistic approach on one record.

 

*Efdemin plays Frædag this week  at Jaeger.

The weird and unreal world of Mr. Scruff

Mr Scruff is an uncanny presence in the DJ booth, both in form and spirit. His quirky sense of humour and delecteable musical apetitites has made him a prominent presence in DJ booths all over the world with his innate effort to entertain and enlighten, both enthusiasts and the serious heads.

A decent cuppa

“There’ll always be nerds and trainspotters, but you don’t need to have a massive knowledge of all the internal workings to enjoy tea” he told the skinny in an interview from 2014. It’s no secret, he does enjoy that most hallowed of English traditions, a cup of tea. There hasn’t been a great moment in modern English history without a brew going in the background, and Mr  Scruff is no exception. When he’s playing all night sets, his drink of choice? A cup of tea, naturally.

His obsession with tea is as old as the man, but it came to the public’s attention when he started doing all night club sets in Manumission in 1994. “They had a weird cabaret lounge where I would play all sorts of music,” he remembers in a Resident Advisor interview, “and at five in the morning I just had the guy behind the bar make me a cup of tea.” It had an air of the teetotaling Northern Soul nights for Carthy and when it came time to create his own night, it was a prerequisite that he had all his creature comforts at hand and that went for his teapot too.

“I like drinking tea in clubs, so I’m going to sell tea,” he insists and when he started his own club nights at Band on the Wall he set up a little kiosk in the second room “as a space where you can get peace of quiet and have a sit down. (Which is going to make people less likely to stand and talk on the dance floor.)” A cup of tea, a “nice bit of carpet and some comfy slippers” is all Mr. Scruff requires to set off on one of his marathon feats of music endurance at his “Keep it Unreal” club nights, which has been successfully going for the last 20 years in Manchester.

Commercial success of a fish monger

It was that seminal LP of the same name, released in 1999, that had made the DJ and producer a household name. His obsession with fish and his penchant for obscure samples, created a masterpiece in “Keep it Unreal” in part attributed to the commercial success of “Get a move on”. Recognise that song? Even if you were unaware of Mr. Scruff, you would’ve heard that song on the myriad of advertisements that use it; it was especially popular with vehicle manufacturers for obvious reasons.

“Keep it Unreal” is a modern classic LP in the electronic music cannon. Mention “eating fish” to anyone that was in their late teens and early twenties in the nineties, and watch their eyes bulge and tail fin twitch as they are transported back to an LP that eptimozises a carefree youth. From the Mary Anne Hobbs introduction of the LP, the standout singles like “Spandex Man” and “Get a move on” to the more ludicrous tracks like “Shanty Town,” which samples some obscure children’s television programme about whales, the record is an icon and sits there alongside DJ Shadow’s “Endtroducing” and The Avalanches “Since I left you” as one of the seminal sampling LP’s of a generation.  

It was an LP that cemented Mr. Scruff’s peculiar fascination with the sea and its animals, and although he said it was merely a passing fancy in interviews, it’s a theme that would crop up countless times after. His next LP, Trouser Jazz, contained track titles like “Shrimp” and “Ahoy there” while the LP after that was called “Ninja Tuna”… he even married a girl named Trout! Andrea (Trout) Ahimie-Carthy to be fair, an accomplished DJ and selector in her own right.

Keep figging deep for the obscure

Mr. Scruff’s appeal as a producer is closely linked to his own expert skills in the booth. Coming into his own as a producer during the height of trip hop and breakbeat, Carthy’s musical prowess in the studio was very much dependent on his deep musical knowledge and vast and extensive record collection, which I found can contain some obscure pieces.

“Heh heh, I found a well stupid record sampled by Mr Scruff for his ‘Fish’ tune off of ‘Keep It Unreal’,” exclaims one MPC forum user to drive my point home. “It’s called ‘The Old Man of Loch Nagar’ and is a story somehow related to Prince Charles, narrated by the main man, Peter Ustinov!!!” How it’s related to Prince Charles, is unknown but it goes a long way in  explaining something of the self-professed “geek” that is Andrew Carthy. “Now it’s one thing being a geek,” says long-time collaborator and MC, Kwasi Asante in a Dekmantel Selectors interview, but “to wave that geek flag and totally admit I’m a geek as well… it goes beyond meticulous.”

Carthy’s astute musical knowledge goes further than a single musical scene or genre. His eclectic, almost OCD digging practises are broad, yet very esoteric and stems from what he was “doing in the 90’s, playing a lot of different specialists scenes,” according to an interview in Nailer 9. Doing all kinds of different nights from reggae to soul and funk, gave Carthy a very extensive scope of club culture’s musical landscape in the UK. More importantly it showed him “how many different scenes and cultures are actually interlinked” and plied him with that innate ability  “to present them at any given time in a club.” That’s why his sets are always expansive, but concise.

This is what makes Mr. Scruff a cut above the rest when it comes to the club night, and it’s never simply about the man itself. In a very Mr. Scruff self-effacing fashion he told the people at Dekmantel; “you don’t want rows of people staring at you, because there’s not a whole lot to look at… there’s a bald bloke putting some records on. The hard work has been put into the record.”

A python-esque wit

For those that require that visual stimulation, Carthy has a solution: “I don’t tend to jump around on stage, waving my arms in the air;” he told the Skinny, “my cartoons can do that for me.” Like fishy obsessions or his love of a brew, Carthy’s cartoons have been a significant part of Mr. Scruff’s appeal. From the record sleeves to something banal like explaining the GDPR rules on his website, Carthy uses his bulbous stick men to add a satirical depth to the musical hedonist side of the artist and DJ.

“When I started putting records out I just happened to design the sleeves,” he told the Jaeger blog, in the past. “The silly cartoons seemed to work really well and that humour in the music comes out very much in my cartoons.” There’s a very definitive English humour in this, very similar  to the kind of humour in the fish references and samples he uses in his music. He calls it a “surreal, Python-esque humour” in the Skinny interview and admits that it’s “always been there.”

It creates an “imaginary world” around the music. “I spend a lot of time in my own little bubble anyway, so I think they live in that universe with me. There’s a humour and mischievous side to the drawings that provides a perfect illustration for my music.“ It’s something that his been extending to his Keep it Unreal nights and his travelling shows, like the one coming to Jaeger tomorrow (obvious plug). “It helps to keep quite a light hearted atmosphere at the gigs,” he explained in the Jaeger interview. “It’s about not taking yourself too seriously and creating a relaxed atmosphere with no unnecessary politics. We’re all just  gonna come together and have a good time…. And because this is deep music, it also serves a function in getting people into some quality music, without having to compromise.”

And that’s Mr. Scruff, getting people into some serious music with his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. There’s never a dry moment on the floor with Mr. Scruff, as he brings this light-hearted approach to all aspects of his music and DJing, and as Keep it Unreal turns twenty this year, he’s certainly proven it’s a recipe that works… we better put the kettle on.

Group Therapy with Carlo & Selma

“We will not tolerate any kind of discrimination, racism, sexism, hatred, misogyny, misandry, homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia, xenophobia.” These are the house rules, in no uncertain terms, at Copenhagen club night Group Therapy. A young club night, Group Therapy has been running since October 2018 at Ved Siden Av, but in their brief existence they’ve carved out a harmonious musical space for Copenhagen’s “queer” club goers.

With five parties behind them thus far, resident DJs and promoters Carlo & Selma, Frederik Tollund and Morten Mechlenborg Nørulf, have been working closely with the venue to offer a safe clubbing space in the city for Copenhagen’s LGBTQI community and those that respect those institutions. In a city that is dominated by brawny Techno, much like most of Europe is today, they offer an alternative clubbing lifestyle with a more diverse music policy and some fundamental rules that discourage intolerant behaviour on the dance floor and encourage a diverse audience.

Carlo & Selma, an Italian-Norwegian DJ duo, are two of the four key figures behind the effort and have made a sincere impression in Copenhagen’s nightlife. Carlo (Molino) & Selma (Skov Høye) have been championing the ideology of their Group Therapy nights from the booth since they first joined forces 5 years ago. Selma, originally from Tromsø and Carlo from Venice, met in Copenhagen when his flatmates hosted a party for Selma after she came back from a student exchange programme in South Africa. “But Carlo wasn’t there,” says Selma over a telephone call and I believe I can hear a smile through her words.

Carlo had moved to Copenhagen from Berlin for studies, but stayed because he loved the city and the “music scene wasn’t as saturated as it was in Berlin.” Coincidentally, Carlo was in Berlin when he was supposed to be hosting the party for Selma, but “he had booked the ticket the wrong way.” Fate had prevailed however, and Carlo would make it home in time to catch Selma rummaging through his records. They instantly bonded over choice cuts from Efdemin, I:Cube and a couple of obscure white label edits and it was Carlo that proposed that they should “start Djing together.” It turned out to be more than just a passing, party fancy and “a couple of days later” Carlo & Selma “picked up on the idea” cementing their friendship and their work together.

Their “musical tastes have evolved a bit since then” according to Selma, but it’s always been “quite an interesting combination” where there’s always been ”some overlap and some divergence” between them. With individual eclectic backgrounds Carlo & Selma’s musical tastes converged on House music but quickly expanded beyond that into Disco and more recently break beat genres of music. “There’s no strict criterion in what sound we want to play,” remarks Selma; “if we can envision it in our set and build a story around it, we’ll include it in our set.” Carlo suggests it was through “percussion” that they found a common ground and Selma agrees that it is “a key part” in the way the play together.

After establishing their “sound” in Copenhagen they have started disseminating it all over Europe, playing places like Salon Zur Wilden Renate, Berlin and Dalston Superstore in London, but it’s back in the Danish capital where they’ve been making their most severe impression on clubland as the resident DJs for Group Therapy. Carlo & Selma stop short of calling Group Therapy a queer night, even though it has been coined as such by patrons and the media. “People recognise that it is a queer night,” says Selma and she doesn’t feel that they need to re-iterate that. Even though they “choose not to use the term “queer to serve as a branding purpose,” elucidates Carlo over an email later, they “do make sure that Group Therapy has a queer vibe” and they do that in several ways according to Selma.

“One of the things we work with is to create a safer place.” They do that “by collaborating with organisations such as Club Mafia;” who install non-security staff on the dance floor to make sure that the house rules are respected. “If people have an unpleasant experience they can approach someone that is not a professional security guard,”  explains Selma, and that way they can ensure that the event and the space is free from any people “behaving in ways that are unpleasant for other people.” Another way they instill the “queer vibe” at Ved Siden Av is through “giving the right importance to spaces like the dark room” according to Carlo. “It’s either us, our friends or Club Mafia, checking that the room isn’t used as a chill out area but for what it is: a space for exploring yourself and your sexuality.” And even though this might not be a natural occurrence in what is a predominantly mixed crowd, Carlo insists; “it is necessary in a city where the concept is not very common outside of strictly gay cruising venues.”

What’s striking is that there are often more girls and women” at these events says Selma, and even though gay clubs have been implementing these kinds of rules since time immoriam, if more “not strictly gay” clubs take the same actions Selma believes it “makes it more interesting.”  But why in an age where information is so readily available and everybody should understand and acknowledge club culture’s gay roots, is it still necessary for a a club night like Group Therapy to impose these practises?

“I definitely agree that it should ideally not be necessary,” says Selma via email later, “but I also feel that sadly in nightlife an awareness of the roots of club culture and the ideal standards for how to behave towards each other is something people still need to be reminded of.” Selma’s personal experiences and those of her friends “that stand out from the crowd” has shown that clubs today still “foster a bro-y culture.” For Selma, “even just as a woman I can find it annoying and tiring to go out to places where a large proportion of the audience is only there to score, rather than enjoy the music and have a good communal experience.”  

For these reasons Carlo & Selma feel it’s a necessary evil to set these rules in place for their Group Therapy nights. “Stating such guidelines explicitly can moreover be a help to not only educate clubgoers,” explains Selma further, “but also to ensure that our audience know that we take these issues seriously.” That’s also why there collaboration with organisations like Club Mafia is so vital to Group Therapy. “We hope that the sum or our efforts will be that people feel safer and more inclined to be themselves,” but she realises that it will always be “an ongoing dialogue between all the actors involved, including guests, staff (including doormen and other security), promoters and so on.“

It’s this communal spirit and attitude that Carlo & Selma bring with them wherever they go as DJs and this openness and inclusivity is something they perpetuate through their selections too. Although they’re launchpad will always be House music, they make sure that they create “a space for playing Disco,” but they’ve also had nights which “are very breakbeat, electro focussed.” Their musical selections are as diverse as their audiences with their selections  instinctively tuned to the “vibe.” For their upcoming set at Jaeger Selma tells me they will bring “a lot of percussion with Disco and maybe Pop” with Carlo adding; “we’re definetely bringing some gay anthems!”

There might be a few of their own edits in there too as they embark on the next stage of their career together as producers, but for the moment that remains the reserve of their own DJ sets. “The fun thing about DJing,” says Selma “is that you don’t have to release music to play it out.” They’re main pursuit as latent producers has been to “enhance tracks that we already have,” but Carlo is adamant that is certainly in the pipeline and he has no plans on leaving Copenhagen exactly for that reason.

Pure Imagination with Dave Harrington

Life after Darkside has been a period of intense creativity for Mr. Dave Harrington. After he and Nicolas Jaar amicably disbanded, the guitarist, composer and producer has channelled all his efforts into the Dave Harrington Group. The group is a studio project through which the eponymous Harrington collaborates with musicians and producers from the world of Jazz and electronica in an improvised format revised and refined in the studio context. In 2016 the Dave Harrington Group released their debut LP, “Become Alive,” and shortly after the group coalesced around a few fundamental personnel form the recording session into a live band.

Beyond the tour the Dave Harrington Group consolidated further with “key collaborators” Andrew Fox and Samer Ghadry forming around the central figure in the group. In this formation they hit the studio again and in 2018 Dave Harrington Group released their sophomore LP, “Pure Imagination, No country,” establishing the sound of the group while it continues to evolve as Dave Harrington defines the sound of the project through his guitar and the entourage of musicians that travel through the band. “Pure Imagination, No country” includes musical dignitaries like Lars Horntveth, Will Shore, and Shahzad Ismaily as well as that key rhythm section made up of Andrew Fox and Samer Ghadry.

Channeling that experience of touring and playing live into this record, Dave Harrington Group favour an uninhibited approach on “Pure Imagination, No Country” as they capture that raw intensity and power of a live band in the studio. Nick Murphy emphasises this energy through post production, which on their previous LP, favoured a slicker, more refined approach. Dave Harrington’s guitar takes more of a central role on the LP, where it appears mostly unprocessed in its natural state taking the stage front and centre in the production across the album.

Dave Harrington Group creates a dense tapestry through adding layer upon layer, which amalgamates into serene dronning melodies, punctuated by sharp staccato bursts as musicians improvise around set pieces. It’s never improvised for the sake of extemporisation as erratic modulations to the extreme borders of jazz burst and decay into fully fledged forms that build and subside through the arc of the album. There’s a narrative to “Pure Imagination, No Country” that builds and concludes in the sublime rendition of “Pure Imagination” similarly to the way that “Become Alive” did, but because of the bold sonic strokes that dominate the new LP, it reaches even higher and more raucous crescendos than it ever did before.

Dave Harrington and his group will be bringing this LP on tour this summer with a stop at Jaeger scheduled for the Natt programme during Piknik i Parken. It gave us a reason to get in touch with Mr. Harrington to follow up on our interview from two years ago with him and talk about the new LP, the tour, playing 120 gigs a year, what kind of impression Darkside continues to make on his work and much more in this extensive Q&A with the artist.  

*Dave Harrington Group play Retro this Thursday. 

Hello Dave. The last time you were in Oslo was with the release of your last album, and now you’re back with a new LP, Pure Imagination, No Country, and I want to get to that LP shortly, but what have been some of your personal highlights between?

I’ve been busy in the years since the last album gigging and collaborating across different scenes in NYC, and have been very lucky to be playing with some of my favorite local musicians from the jazz/jam/experimental world here in town. There are too many names to list but as an example a recent highlight was performing at a benefit concert at Brooklyn Bowl with Billy Martin, Joe Russo, Steven Bernstein, Karl Berger, Peter Apfelbaum, Marc Ribot, Stuart Bogie, Jonathan Goldberger, Oteil Burbridge and more – all in one night!

I’ve also been scoring a few independent films and collaborating with Nick Murphy as a producer on his new record.

Your usually involved in quite a few projects at the same time, but it seems that now you have you focussed all your attention on the Dave Harrington Group. Is that the case?

DHG is like homemade for me – it’s a musical place with key collaborators (Samer Ghadry and Andrew Fox) that allows me to explore my current musical interests and directions, like an ever-evolving laboratory.  That being said it’s true – I’m also always working on other projects!

What particularly did you take away from the Darkside experience that helped establish your career as a solo artist?

Darkside was an incredibly inspirational experience, I learned so much about making records and stretching the bounds of improvising and using electronics and fusing that would to the jazz world I grew up studying was invaluable to my development as a solo artist.  Being in Darkside was the beginning of my journey towards really finding my personal voice as a guitarist.

 

Become Alive came out shortly after Darkside went on hiatus, so your name was still intrinsically linked to that project. Now that you have had some distance from that project, how have you experienced the reception between Become Alive and Pure Imagination, No Country?

Since the last record I feel I’ve become associated with other scenes and collectives and musicians so now there are people who know me from Darkside but also through my connection to Nublu and Ilhan Ersahin, and my ongoing collaboration with Joe Russo, and my more experimental work with people like Brian Chase, Briggan Krauss, Exo-Tech, and projects like The Dream Machine. Which is to say, I think and hope people will see this record with a wider lens and more context about the various influences that went into the making of it.

I believe this new LP was a direct result of the Become Alive tour, and playing with a band. The result is a record that sounds more organic (for lack of a better adjective) than the last. Can you tell me a little bit about how this album came together?

The album was very much built off of the way that the core band of Fox/Ghadry and also Will Epstein approaches playing Become Alive on tour.  Therefore there is more focus and shared language and in the nature of the playing and the improvising as the result of time spent exploring the music together on the road and in the studio.

Who were the band members involved in the process of making it and how did they influence or dictate the way the record eventually sounded?

Samer Ghadry and Andrew Fox make up the core rhythm section and drive the ship.  The influence of a few key interlocutors added surprise and some welcome chaos to the proceedings – these people were Jake Falby, Lars Horntveth, Will Shore, and Shahzad Ismaily.

The guitar takes more of a central role on Pure Imagination, No Country, and it’s very much present from a listening perspective in its raw, minimally processed form. What encouraged and influenced the way you used your instrument on the album?

Gigs gigs gigs.  That was my mantra after the last record.  Not just touring but playing in different contexts in NYC all the time. The guitar became my primary mode of expression and I wanted to represent that direction mode of communication on record as best as possible.  I haven’t been on tour since the last album but to illustrate: between the summer of 2017 when we were working on the album and when the album came out at the beginning of this year I played about 120 gigs.

Were there any abstract ideas that informed the album; some singular sub-conscious thought or feeling that served as a totem pole throughout the recording process of the album, that you think might have influenced the album?

The album was about improvising and communicating – musically, psychically, electronically – with no limit, no boundary, infinite possibility.

You mentioned “conceptual ideas” in another interview when talking about the underpinning structure of the recording process. Can you divulge on what these conceptual ideas were?

It’s really the same answer as above: a commitment to the freedom of improvising and the total anarchic abandon that can come from that commitment.

Like Become Alive there’s very little of a sense of tradition in your music, like your always pushing the boundaries of known conventions. And even though Pure Imagination, No Country is rooted in the traditional construct of a Jazz band, it very rarely panders to tropes. In what aspects of your musical training/experience do you believe this is rooted?

I was encouraged by my teachers at a young age to study and learn the canon and the classic structures of jazz while also stretching those boundaries and exploding them: when I studied with Kelvyn Bell at the Harlem School of the Arts as a teenager he taught the jazz ensemble everything from Ellington and Monk to Arthur Blythe and his own odd-meter funk compositions influenced by his work with Steve Coleman and MBase.  My composition teacher at that same school, Daniel Bernard Roumain, was on an artistic mission at that time to bring hip-hop into classical concert composition and that also had a huge impact on my understanding of musical synthesis and the possibility for porousness between any form of music.

 

Besides “Pure Imagination” (a cover of the Gene Wilder song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory), is there any other musical references that you tried to incorporate in the sound of the album?

Too many to name, but, as always Miles Davis’ electric period and ECM Records (specifically from the 70s and 80s) are very important touchstones for me.  And of course drone metal.

“Pure Imagination” concludes the album in this very serene moment, similarly to the way you concluded Become Alive with “All I can Do”. It suggests a narrative arc that flows through your album concepts. How important is progression for you in the context of the LP during post production, and what was your intentions in that arc on Pure Imagination, No country?

I like a journey on a record, I like it to be welcoming, but also challenging, and I seem to always want to end on a sweet note – I’m a sucker for a gentle closing track.

I have to ask you about the live show. On the last tour you had to re-envision the finished album for the stage.  With this one it almost works the other way around, as it came from the context of a live band. How will this upcoming live show at Jaeger be different from the last tour?

We’re still figuring that out!  In a way, the way this band works, we’re always figuring that out, always trying to evolve but doing so in the context of deeper and deeper ensemble communication. This band will be streamlined as a kind of deconstructed classic organ trio with synths taking the place of organ and with electronics incorporated along the to create density and atmosphere.  But ultimately it will be about showcasing an even more focused ensemble interplay.

There are still a lot of layers on Pure Imagination, No Country. How have you had to adapt the sound of the record of the LP for the stage, if at all?

The album is a jumping off point – a set of structures and sounds that we don’t aim to “re-create” but rather to deconstruct and reconstruct through improvisation.

And that is all the questions I have Dave. Is there anything you’d like to add?

I can’t wait to come back to Jaeger.  We had such a blast playing last time I’m excited to do it all over again!!

The Cut with Filter Musikk – Börft Records special

Every so often a single individual skips the border betweenSweden and Norway with a box. Its origins, located somewhere deep in the enclave of Karlskrona is little more than a mysterious postcode, and besides the conspicuous shape it holds very little clue to its contents. It arrives at Filter Musikk Oslo, usually hand delivered by an acquaintance, and exchanges hands with little standing on ceremony. Roland Lifjell knows what it is, but he savours it, biding his time until the moment is just right to release a new bunch of Börft records onto the shelves at Filter Musikk and ultimately Oslo’s DJ scene.  

Börft records get hand-delivered at Filter Musikk, and it’s a tradition that harks back to the origins of Roland’s tenure at Filter Musikk. The personal bond that these two fine institutions share across a border has installed Börft records in the subconscious of every DJ in the Norwegian capital, making it one of the city’s most sought after and respected labels while Filter Musikk has become something of a flagship store for Jan Svensson’s enigmatic label.

Börft’s origins go back to 1987 when Svensson and his band Frak established the label with their first cassette, “Raggarslakt”. Coming at a time when Techno, House and Electro was still in its infancy, Frak and Börft set a distinct tone for the time. Blending Detroit’s DIY machine sonics with the darker sounds of EBM and with the Punk attitude of their forebears coursing through their performance-based recordings, they arrived at a sound they and the label have been perpetuating through cassettes and records for the last 32 years.

Björft has been there through various different phases, constantly adapting to the musical surroundings while retaining that central ethos to the label, one man’s steadfast vision of electronic music, based around a small but dedicated community in Gothenburg that has expanded throughout Sweden and beyond, with artists like Tillander (TM404), Sotofett, Smea, Luke Eargoggle and of course Frak contributing to the label’s extensive, but contained discography. It’s quite possibly one of the oldest independent electronic music labels, save for possibly MUTE, and to this day it continues to make significant and prominent contributions to electronic music culture.

As Roland Lifjell unpacks yet another special delivery from Karlskrona we dedicate this week’s Cut to Björft with new music from Jon Doppler, Bergsonist, Da Book, Anders Enge and Daniel Araya.

*Filter Musikk is back at Jaeger next week with Boston 168 and Strangefruit.

 

Bergsonist – Chaos (Börft) 12″

This is what Börft is all about. Meaty beats; irreverent sonic arrays; and ferocious rhythmical constructions created to be played in subterranean vaults. Bergsonist is one of the two artists on this list not to arrive onto Börft through the contained Swedish connection. The Moroccan-born New York artist can be seen as the latest incarnation of that Börft ideology, infiltrating Techno through the fertile New York scene from which acts like Via-App and Aurora Halal have emerged too.

Out of “Chaos form, development and control materialises in Bergsonist latest contribution to the Börft label. Where electronic textures writhe and twist under pressure at their incipient stage as they distort around heavy kicks and malignant sonic textures, they find resolution in the steady pulse of a kick, rubbery bassline or a progressive development.

The off-beat rhythms and punkish sonic aesthetic play well against each other, but they never drop off the edge into a grotesque assault of the senses, but rather teeter between two worlds, between abstract electronic sounds and functional forms. While a track like “Self Cultivation” might jar the senses a little, on the other end of it a track like “Tentation” with its bouncing bassline and sweet melodic atmosphere shows a more amenable side to Bergsonist’s music.

 

Jon Doppler – Blackberry Vision Algorithm (Börft) 12″

A regular feature on the Börft lineup since 2016, Jon Doppler makes soothing dubbing electronica, that floats to and from the dance floor. Effervescent echoes and delays weaving their way through lethargic beats and wispy pads define his work and even through his most adventurous rhythmic pursuits he retains a deep quality to his sound. He could be a direct descendent of Christian Doppler in the way he moves through textures. The Chicago native makes his second appearance on the Swedish label with “Blackberry Vision Algorithm,” perpetuating those dub encounters with Techno and House music.

While the opening tracks focus more of their attention on the dance floor in temperate but urgent tempos, staccato chords and acid lines modulating through the track like whirling dervishes, Jon Doppler pads these core elements in ethereal atmospheres that progress in slow, but determined phases through the tracks. Doppler stays the course through the A-side on this tangent, but it’s when he gets to “Weem” that his unique artistic voice really shines through.

A moderate tempo, quivering bassline and various synthetic movements fluttering in and out of the progression sets an elusive tone through the track. You find yourself drifting through the outer extremities of the track, or sinking into its vast cavernous depths, where the slow, lethargic kick drum vibrates in short staccato bursts.

 

Da Book – Vixxen (Börft) 12″

There seems to be a habit with the artists on Börft records to cover, or partially cover their face in the quest for anonymity, in the manner of that old electronic music adage; let the music speak for itself. A losing battle in the age of the internet frankly, but one that perpetuates the very same motive behind Svensson’s that was there at the beginning when Frak started performing together. Hidden behind masks and all kinds of facial disguises, standing behind synthesisers, emblazoned with various insignia, it’s always been the machines and their bold aggressive sounds that are the stars in the Börft lineup.

Da Book (Patrik Book of Ausgang Verboten / Random Toxy) sustains this ideology in 2019 as he harnesses the almighty strength of the Roland X0X series of machines through the five tracks that make up “Vixxen”. Uncomplicated, functional pieces play on the strengths of the dance floor where 4-4 rhythms and bold basslines form the basis from which staccato keys and buzzsaw acid lines make laconic impressions on the dance floor. The piano stab of “Techno Aina” and the lazer-like Acid bass line of “Raggaren” are elements that stay with you for the duration and beyond while those concise, immediate rhythm arrangements never leave you trailing far from the speaker.

 

Anders Enge – Love Loser (Börft) 12″

Although Jan Svensson is a veteran in the field of electronic music today he continually seems to find new, young exciting artists to bring to the Björft alumni, constantly updating the label’s discography while maintaining the ethos and sound of the label. And even though some of the artists behind the records on this list might have been around for some time in one form or another, these monikers are all fairly new to the world of electronic club music. They retain that raw essence of the label that’s been there since 1987, updating little of that DIY machine aesthetic beyond anything like modern production touches. It’s like Svensson insists on certain parameters like; record your music live on a stereo track, using no more than three machines.

It’s a tried and tested formula  that has outlasted any style or trend in the arena of House and Techno and has helped establish a definitive sound behind the Börft records label. That formula has been so ingrained in electronic it has become second nature for an artist like Anders Enge, who arrives at that formula through instinctive impulses.

After a few cassette releases on Dissociate Rhythm he’s back on Börft with “Love Loser”. The EP builds on a few elements, which Enge channels to the more marginal hemispheres of electronic music, with a particularly exploratory flair for his machines. Acid lines are re-contextualised as wheezing abstract creations; synthetic bleeps create static atmospheres like chatter from an alien planet; and anomalous bass modulations wobble through precise marching rhythms. Anders Enge tests the limits of cognitive patience on the dance floor through four audacious cuts, that leave a jarring, agitated impression on the listener. It’s a record for the more adventurous DJ or the more desensitised soul.

 

Daniel Araya – Riot Date (Börft) 12″

Making a return to the Börft franchise with his chilling blend of Acid and Techno, Daniel Araya hits the ground running with “Acid Opal” the opener from his latest record, “Riot Date”. Weaving subtle strands of old school rave between modern minimalist Techno arrangements and of course Acid bass lines, “Riot Date” is an explosive sojourn through the primal, corporeal aspects of electronic club music.

Gnawing bass lines, thunderous kicks and squirming lysergic melodic movements create an intense pursuit over four tracks. Distorted hats and the odd stab at some incooperate keys, lay elusive threads to the hardcore origins of Techno and House, in an untamed, feroscious EP from Araya.

It’s all about the A-side however, where “Acid Opal” and especially “Cyclic Rave Overload” command the floor. It sets a provocative mood for the rest of the EP, that the other tracks on the B-side never quite harness in the same way, and for good reason, as it would simply make for an exhausting 30-odd minutes of music.

As one soundcloud user so eloquently put it; “Fukkk yeah!” It’s a record for one of those moments where all inhibition gives way to simple animalistic abandon and we give in to our most primal urges; and isn’t that just what every Börft record is about.

The next chapter with Ivaylo

We share an office with Ivaylo Kolev. When he’s not in the booth at Jaeger, he’s preparing the itinerary for the next guest DJ or playing host to some or other DJ diginitary. Recently he’s become a proud father again, a girl and the third and last in the Kolev lineage for this generation. Between being a family man, working full time and DJing at least once a week, you might think he’d have his hands full, but the last year has also been a period of intense activity for Ivaylo in the studio, which has ushered in a new era for the producer  with his debut on Prins Thomas’ Full Pupp.

“Syklon” finds Ivaylo adapting his sound to the Full Pupp aesthetic. A punishing bassline greets the listener, with progressive build-up as various percussive elements join in the track before dissipating into a lovely soul-searching pad and a vocal snapshot taken from an old House track. “Aerodynamisk” and “Karla” reinforce the sound of the EP with bold basslines, firm percussive arrangements, metallic synths and floaty chord sequences weaving brief, but fundamental passages through the record. Ivaylo adopted some of the Full Pupp spacy production, but pivots it around the functionality of the dance floor.

There’s a slight evolution from Ivaylo’s previous releases for the likes of Cymawax and his own Bogota Records imprint. The new EP follows a track on a Kwench compilation earlier this year, which will be superseded by an EP on Cassy’s label in June, and finds Ivaylo in a very critical phase of his career going forward, dedicating more time on production. Beyond that there’s a new record coming out on Bogota from the boss with a “super nice remix” from hugo LX, perpetuating that “Bogota sound.” A Techno leaning track on the Full Pupp sublabel, Rett i Fletta and some more music, he can’t really discuss also highlight an intense creative flurry from the artist.

*Syklon is available now from all major distributors.

On top of that Bogota records will be releasing new music too this year, with a new track from Jarle Bråthen, and a remix from Kim Dürbeck. “I’m in love with the whole record” urges Ivaylo who says it’s all “a lot of work,” but he also feels that time is just right for this next phase of his career. We sit down for a coffee to talk about this next phase, but immediately our conversation turns to work and the gripes and pleasures of dealing with agents, DJs, artists and the daily meleé that ensues around booking and promoting events. But that’s not why we’re here…

Let’s talk about you for a minute.

Yes, let’s talk about me.

There’s a new record coming on Full Pupp and some more in the pipeline for Kwench and of course Bogota. Would you consider this a new phase in your career?

It’s like an extension of a phase for me (laughs). I’m happy with how everything has ended up this year, because I’m enjoying the sound of both labels, and it gives me the freedom to experiment with new sounds, while at the same time I can be myself.

Do you think you’ve changed your sound, especially in lieu of this next Full Pupp release?

In general I’ve changed my sound with regards to adding percussion and the rougher basslines, which is a bit closer to Techno. Working with Thomas took me further, and I’m super thankful for that

How did that release come together?

The reason everything happened was that we were just driving in the car one night after he played at Jaeger and I played him one of the tracks. It was actually the first track I made last year, and he was like; “hey what is this, I really like it.” And then it just happened and that gave me the motivation to explore this sound further.

What  made you want to go in that direction in the first place?

The scene. Not in a commercial way, but the crowd. Being at Jaeger every weekend, I see so many artists and see how the crowd reacts. It’s kind of my summation of what people are playing and what people like.

Is this the same with the upcoming Kwench release?

There’s like a red line between these records because the percussion is still there, and the way I program the percussion is still there. It’s House, but with Thomas it’s also kind of Full Pupp.

Thomas is always very hands on with the Full Pupp releases. I know he’ll often help with the mixing and the final arrangement. How much influence did Thomas have on Syklon?

Thomas is a genius. The way we worked is that I played him a track, he liked the track and then he asked me to finalise it. Then he had the final touch; in terms of mixing it down. On the rare occasion he might ask to add something, like an effect, but Thomas is just the final layer of polish.

Do you think that’s where the Full Pupp sound comes from, from his final touch?

Definitely. As I understand it, everything goes through Thomas in the end. That’s one of the reasons I chose to work with him and the label, because I learn from him, while at the same time he makes me more confident in what I’m doing.

Is it something that you think will have an effect on your music going forward?

Both and yes and no. With Thomas I learnt a lot about mixing, but when it comes to taking it forward, this direction has been an idea that has been brewing for years; ever since I took a break from the studio.

Since we haven’t heard the new Kwench release yet, can you tell me a bit more about what that might sound like?

It’s just proper House music.

Is it as deep as the stuff you’re previously known for?

I’ve got those deep elements in there… I’ve got the chords, but it’s more straightforward, something for the dance floor.

How did you get those tracks into Cassy’s hands?

I knew Cassy through the club, and after we met a few times, I sent her some music and she said “you should do a track for the compilation”. And then she asked for more tracks and to do a release. I think I sent Cassy like 7 tracks and she picked three of them.

You mentioned that you were  influenced into this new direction by watching and listening at Jaeger. Is it when you’re working or while you’re playing?

I would say both. I’m a person who absorbs everything around me. It’s a combination of everything and I can be affected by something immediately?

 

Has it affected the way you DJ as well?

No as a DJ I’m always all over the place. I would say it mostly affected my productions.

Your lifestyle has also changed dramatically in recent years. You have this job at Jaeger that means you’re always in the club on the weekend, but working, and then you also have three kids to take care of. How has this all work with a career in music in terms of touring as a DJ?

Perfectly. That’s kind of the final journey, when you mention touring. The reason I had six years quiet time, was because I had to help my girlfriend with the kids. That was my focus then, now I can come back to producing full time and touring. We’ve had good training, with me working every weekend at Jæger, and with my kids it’s changed my whole mindset too. I’m not partying, like I used to anymore.

So it has had a positive effect on your music?

Yes.

Do you think you’re better off now as a DJ now than when you were partying with the same kind of people you were playing for?

Yes, I do. I feel more secure in what I’m doing now. My head is clearer and being a dad is amazing. You have more structure. I still like to party, it’s just in a different way.

Don’t you feel that you’re getting disconnected from the dance floor in terms of age?

No I don’t think so. For me in music there is no age restriction. All I care about is the music. I feel exactly the same age as when I started with music. There’s no change in it.

Do you think that is due to the nature of being a DJ of your generation, that you’re more of a faceless facilitator?

I love that aspect of Djing. When you’re only concerned about the music, it’s a different story than about the way you look or what people see. I don’t care about that, and all I care about is how people feel about the music, how it affects them and how am I able to participate.

Working in an aspect of the industry – the behind the scenes kind of stuff that you and I do – do you ever get fed up with it?

The only thing I get fed up with is the DJ ego. I’m looking forward to be touring again so I can get out of the social media aspects of it all, because it takes up so much of my time, and I think it kills the music. Now you have models of DJs which gives all these young people the wrong impression of what it means to be a DJ. Young people are spending more time on their appearance than on music, it’s ridiculous.

You meet a lot of DJs in person, and like me you must notice that there’s some difference meeting these DJs and artists in person.

It’s a necessary evil, especially bigger artists that have PR agents that take care of it, which is a sad thing. It’s a big part of the scene today, and even if you have good skills as an artist or a DJ, you have to follow this bullshit. That also means that people with no skills are coming through based on their social media presence. We don’t see that as much at Jaeger since we’re pretty good with the bookings, but you see it everywhere else in the scene. I’m not going to judge anyone, but I don’t see the point.

I find that side of it completely exhausting, to the point where it affects my enjoyment of the music.

I totally agree with you. It’s a combination of how the crowd reacts to it, or how people think they have to act for the crowd. I really like what DVS1 said recently; you don’t go to the club to watch, you go to listen.

And this takes me back to my first  DJ set. Back in the 80’s and 90’s, the DJ booth was a seperate room, divided by some glass. People didn’t really see you or even know who you were. You had a little space where you could invite friends into and they were all music junkies. Now it’s so annoying with all the phones and having a particular look.

All these things like how people arrive, people taking photos and all this energy around the actual set, it’s an unnatural energy, it’s fake.

Which brings me back to making a record for the purpose of Djing like you’ve just done.  You spend so much time on it, and it takes about a year before it comes out, and then it has a brief moment on the dance floor (if you’re lucky) and then it’s forgotten until you bring out the next track. Don’t you sometimes feel that you’re putting too much effort into it?

Not for me, because first of all I don’t make a track today to get out tomorrow. For me it has to be timeless. I’m not concerned about when it will come out or how long it will be played, I don’t care about that. I just care about if the track has consistency and if it has its own personality.

So if you consider an old track like Pelican, is that still a track that you’ll play in your sets?

Yes, if the moment is there I’ll play it. Each track that I’ve done has its own personality and these personalities go around with me.  

 

Keeping it groovy with Magda

Magda has been a formidable force on the international DJ circuit for about as long as she’s been a DJ. Her varied musical background and her nomadic origins have made a favourite amongst a variety of audiences with her instinctive flair for the dance floor underpinning her sets. In recent years she’s cut down on her touring commitments to focus more on production and leisurely pursuits, but yet you’ll still find her playing at least three times a week across the globe in clubs like Fabric, Spybar and OHM, just to name a few recent.

Born in Poland, raised in Detroit, and now living in Berlin, Magda has had an extensive DJing career that spans the origins and various different phases of the all-encompassing musical movement called Techno. Growing up in Detroit in the nineties, Magda experienced various different phases of the genre, but it would be in its minimal form, spearheaded by the likes of Robert Hood and Richie Hawtin’s Plastikman alias that Magda would find her musical niche as a DJ.

A chance meeting with Hawtin installed her in what would become the M_nus family and gave her her first residency. Playing around the states and eventually moving to New York, Magda cut her teeth on the US circuit. She made the ultimate move to Berlin after she played a Perlon party at the predecessor to Berghain, Ostgut. That night ended with her playing back to back with Ricardo Villalobos and sold Magda on Berlin for life.

Refining her style in the booth further after the move, she also set off on a reserved, but significant career as a producer, releasing her debut on M_nus in 2005 followed by her now legendary mix compilation “She’s a Dancing Machine” on the same label. Magda has been a label boss alongside Marc Houle and Troy pierce for Items & Things, a resident at some of the most impressive addresses in the world and has staked her rightful claim as a monolith in the booth today.

In recent years, her more reserved touring schedule has given her the opportunity to focus more on production and since 2016 she has been working exclusively with TB Arthur on their new electro outfit, Blotter Trax. It’s a project she is very passionate about and ten minutes before I call her up for our interview she sends me the latest release, which will be out via Frustrated Funk on the eve of her set at Jaeger.

The third release in two years from Blotter Trax is “completely different than the last” explains Magda over an email before I ring her up. Between the familiar electro/Detroit beat constructions and the minimalist approach to production, a processed bass guitar looms large. It’s an unusual feature in a track of this kind where much of the focus lies on the rhythm section, and breathes fresh life into the stale tropes that earmark much of Techno and Electro today. With those tracks making a fresh impression, I call up Magda who answers with an amiable hello before we delve into an extensive and all-encompassing Q&A covering Blotter Trax, her formidable years in Detroit and her truly inspiring career as a DJ.

Magda plays Frædag tonight.

We’ve just received the latest Blotter Trax. It’s very different from what anybody else is making at the moment in terms of Electro. How did those tracks come together?

We have been experimenting and growing since the beginning. It’s been about three years and it’s evolved into this release which I feel really captures both of our past influences well, especially Post Punk and early Electro. We have been working with a vocalist and we used a live bassist for this record because we wanted to make these tracks feel more like songs.

We spent a lot of time on sound design making sure everything sounds warm, rich, and as fat as possible and that each sound has its space

I was actually curious about the bass guitar, because I could hear that it was a live bass, but wasn’t sure if it was a sample.  It adds a very distinct sound to the track.

We really like to sculpt our own sounds from the analogue gear we have, or incorporate other musicians. We gave the bassist an idea and he recorded a session with his own pedals and processing units, therefore you have this incredible sound. We then took it, edited it and processed it further.

 

The other part of the appeal of Blotter Trax is the electronic elements, which is also very interesting, because it’s not the usual Roland X0X sounds that you get on a record, but something more futuristic. How do you arrive at these sounds?

Well, you’d be surprised but we use a lot of processed guitar. We’re both influenced by bands like the Flying Lizards and the downtown New York sound from the eighties. To this day those records sound futuristic. We wanted to see what we can do with processing real instruments, so that’s where many of these wonky sounds come from.

How did you guys find each other and what made you want to start making music together?

I was obsessing over some TB Arthur records for a while and I was talking to my friend BMG (Ectomorph) and I said; “god, this TB Arthur stuff, have you heard it?” And he was like; “he’s a friend of mine, you guys should meet.”

We hit it off right away and decided to go to the studio to see what happens. We started to jam and in a week we had three recordings done. I’ve never recorded in this way, all analogue, jam session, recorded straight to tape. That was our first release and if you listen to it, its very different from the way we sound now.  

Blotter Trax 2.0 also sounded much more improvised than this latest release on Frustrated Funk.

Those were straight up jam sessions between the three of us; BMG, myself and TB Arthur. It was recorded over a period of a week and we probably cut five tapes, and used three of those for the record. I took those recordings and basically edited them down into tracks that made sense.

And I believe there’s a live show?

Yes. We have played about 8 times so far. Our first shows were fully analogue and improvised. I was on an old Roland synth which definitely has a mind of its own and TB Arthur was on the modular so we always had to do 2 hour soundchecks to sculpt all the sounds correctly for each venue. I feel like we’ve gone through different stages of experimentation and thrown ourselves out of our comfort zones to do these unpredictable sets, but also are now able to do more structured sets like the one at Fabric where we only had one hour and there wasn’t much room for much random experimentation.

Through what you’ve been telling me, it seems like there’s a constant evolution in your work, even just across the three records you’ve released together.

Absolutely and that’s what keeps it fun and exciting at the end of the day.

I want to ask you more about that editing process and the post-productiophase of making a Blotter Trax record; do you think your experience as DJ helps that aspect of the process?

I think my DJ experience helps me 100% in the way I edit.

I find there’s some relationship to the way these Blotter Trax records sound and your sets, in the way you accentuate a few simple elements in a minimalist way to arrive at a very big sound.

Exactly, that’s always something I have geared towards. We tend to start with many parts and end up reducing things quite a lot so each sound has its space and power instead of getting lost.

That’s why it was really difficult to edit those tapes because they were all 30 minutes long. (laughs) And it actually took me some time to get it right. At first I was like; “how do I do this” because the whole performance shifts and morphs and I wanted to make sure not to cut interesting movements and changes, but also keep the dynamics that would make the track interesting.

Working with TB Arthur and people like BMG, do you think It’s changed the way you make music?

Absolutely. I realise I really enjoy collaborating way more than making stuff on my own. I like the shared experience and exchange of knowledge. TB Arthur has a different approach to recording than me in some ways because he comes from an indie background so when we edit stuff, he’ll notice things I wouldn’t or vice versa. We learn from each other.

Are you producing more than what you’ve done in the past?

More than ever.

It seems that you are also finding more enjoyment out of it, more than you have in the past.

Yes, there was always a lot of touring and it became difficult to engage in the studio in a way I wanted. Now I really enjoy being home more and having time to record and living a more balanced life.

You mentioned early Electro as some of your influences in the beginning, and I certainly detect elements of Model 500 in there. You spent most of your formative years in Detroit. How much does that time still influence the music you make today?

If it had not been for me growing up in Detroit and having that exposure I would not be here right now. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to listen to not just one movement, but several at the same time. The scene was small, but you would go from an Underground Resistance party to a gay funk and soul loft party, to a new wave electro party and so on. That’s why from the start I wanted to mix different sounds in my sets.

How did you end up living in Detroit?

We emigrated from Poland to escape communist rule. My parents had a really tough time finding work in their industry; my mother is a graphic designer and my father is an engineer and that’s how we ended up moving to Detroit so my dad could work for the auto industry.

Do you think the history of the place had an affect in the way the music sounded?

Absolutely. I think there’s a lot of soul that’s captured when things are uncomfortable or scary and a lot of emotion comes out. Detroit has such a rich but difficult history and that definitely comes through the music.

I was watching a clip with you from ADE a while back, where you mentioned that it all started for you after going to Canada and experiencing some parties there. Obviously the Richie Hawtin and M_nus connection started there but was there a thriving scene there?

I don’t remember saying that. (laughs) Maybe the Plastikman parties, those were insane. I’ve never seen anything like that. They would cover entire warehouses with material. They had plastic tunnels that would lead to different rooms and it was pitch black inside except for a strobe. The music really sounded undefinable and from the future. That was properly mind-blowing.

Is that how you met Richie Hawtin and got onto the label, and started touring with him?

Actually we met through friends at a loft party. We really got along and he gave me a residency at his little bar in Canada, which had a capacity of 80. It was a really good way for me to practice and get into DJing a lot more. I started working for him, digitalising his vinyl when the whole MP3 technology started. That was an incredible job, just to have the exposure to all the promos being sent from all over the world. That’s how I discovered all the German minimal labels and a lot of stuff that changed my life.

And then you moved to Berlin shortly after that?

Actually, I lived in New York for a while, and once I came to Berlin to play a Perlon party, I was sold. I realised, ok there are no rules here, everyone is easy-going and it’s definitely more chill than New York. It just felt like the right time.

Did you feel that you had to adapt your sets for European audiences?

It was a trip, because I realised a lot of tracks that worked in Detroit didn’t work in Europe.

Why was that?

I was playing a lot of broken, glitchy stuff and in europe they preferred steadier types of tracks back then.

It was a great learning experience, to adapt to various places. I’m very thankful for that and for Richie taking me on tour and throwing me completely out of my comfort zone.

I wanted to quit a hundred times, because it was so stressful to try and play in front of people who seemed so confused (laughs). I remember having to play everything on plus eight and the hardest records I could find, and still they seemed so mellow compared to what everybody was playing at the time.

It seems like it’s back again.

Oh, it’s back.

Do you find yourself having to adapt yet again or can you keep doing what you’ve been doing?

It’s not that I have to adapt again. I think it happens naturally. When you go out to listen to other DJs or listen to the records that come out, you get the vibe of what is going on. I think it’s reflective of the turmoil that’s going on in the world. You hear music that is edgier, faster and dirtier. I like that energy, and I like playing faster at the moment.

You would consider yourself a DJ first and foremost?

Yes, definitely.

I distinctly remember listening to Magda mix CDs at a time when they were still these significant artistic statements. I think it was “She’s a dancing Machine” that was particularly prominent around that time and really put a lot of focus on the DJ as the artist. It seems that it’s something of a lost art today in the age of soundcloud and mixcloud with a kind of immediacy replacing the artistic reward.

Times have changed with streaming. Everything has become extremely accessible. Back then to make a mix, you would be asked by the label to do it and they would physically produce a disc and make the artwork so it was like a little album.Now everything is uploaded in one minute, and it’s a completely different mindset, not that one is better or worse, it’s just a different time.

 

Do you feel that it’s the same in the booth today, that you have to give people that immediacy?

Actually it’s funny you say that, I think it’s the opposite for me. In the past, I used to layer four tracks and mix that way and now I’m focusing more on the track selection, mixing more patiently and the edits I do.

I like searching for all kinds of tracks to work into my sets. That’s a whole process in itself and its fun to dig deep and into the past as well.

There must be some underlying sound to your set however. What do you look for in a track that sort of underpins all your choices?

I can’t say. I just look for something unique. I want something different, whether it’s Electro or Techno, or House. Something definitely with a sexy vibe. I like stuff between genres.

In Berlin where you’re playing these mammoth long sets, you can obviously take your time through a set. If you’re coming to Oslo now, you’ll notice it’s very different because of our short opening times. Is this something that your conscious of when you’re playing a new place?

I try to consider each set independently. It depends on what the venue is like and what the capacity is. I never plan a set. I usually have some folders with different genres of music and then just go with the flow.

Regarding the shorter sets, I’m really used to them, because that’s how I grew up in Detroit. All the clubs used to close at 2:00 and people didn’t really go out until midnight so it was two hours, full on.

Like every DJ out there today you have an agent that takes care of your bookings, but do you have the final say where you’ll play?

Absolutely, I think it is super important to have that relationship with the booker, where you share a similar vision and you make sure you play the right parties. For example a lot of times, people still associate me with how I played 15 years ago, and I’ve changed a lot since then.

Do you find that you can be very selective today and don’t have to take any set that gets offered to you?

Yes definitely

And I suppose you enjoy it more if you’re playing less.

Absolutely, I just have more time and I’m more relaxed and can really engage and be more creative and also build more relationships with new people and connect with old friends. In the past when there was a lot of touring it was just one big ball of chaos all the time. For me staying connected to myself and the people around me these days is very important.

And when you do want to disconnect at home and you don’t want to connect with the clubbing world, what sort of music do you listen to?

Which is every Monday! (laughs) I listen to everything, but I don’t listen to Techno. I was just listening to Shabazz Palaces. I love stuff like that and other more chill music at home.

For the people that might have seen you the last time you were here in Oslo, how would you describe your set has changed since then?

I’m playing a lot more Electro and playing faster for the most part but still keeping it groovy.

 

Delirious autobiography with Torgny Amdam (Premiere Jpeg)

In his latest track “Jpeg,” Torgny Amdam attempts to consolidate a period in his life going from VHS to Myspace; a “cave of forgotten dreams” that he recalls from distant-recent memories in a spoken-word piece. Amdam’s voice accents syllables with strong American intonations which glides over a bed of frosty synthetic textures and soft undulating waves of bass.

It’s the third of fifteen releases coming from the Norwegian artist and musician. Every second Friday a new track will be released as part of the new project “Bathroom Stall Confessional.” “Jpeg” follows the Stooges-like garage rock of “Forzane 1913” and the “dystopian beats” of “Debris” in the first new music from Adman since his 2017 Cut & Run LP. The forthcoming LP (to be released in November) is the most “autobiographical“ Amdam has been in his music as a solo artist as he looks back at his time in the nineties, when he lived in L.A , and also the years he was the frontman for the Norwegian hardcore band Amulet.

“I wanted to give every song as much love as possible,” says Amdam as he leans back in his studio chair at Notam studios in Sagene. “Jpeg” plays briefly over the speakers and Amdam’s lyrics swirl around a brief nostalgic reverie like a word cloud trying to anchor itself on something tangible in an abstract expressionist dream. “Instead of pushing things out of the lyrics,” says Amdam about his writing process, “you’re pulling things back in.”

He calls this new project a “delirious autobiography” as he attempts to reconcile various periods in the course of his life that brought him to this moment in a very personal musical monologue and visual accompaniment. “It’s important for an artist to be original and personal,” he says in one of the most sincere moments of our interview, between staccato bursts of laughter. “What the world needs now is a lot of sincerity and originality in art. I’ve asked myself a lot, what does it mean to be an artist, what does it mean to be an artist who’s been a vocalist in a rock n roll band for 15 years, what does it mean to be an artist in his forties.”

Amdam grapples with these questions over 15 tracks that navigate the extreme borders of contemporary music, from Pop to Rock and Hip Hop to House as he distills all these influences through this latest LP project.

Torgny Amdam has been making or playing music in some form or another since 1993. Coming into his own as an adolescent during a time when punk bands like Minor Threat and Hip Hop acts like Afrika Bambaata started to turn music on its head with a newfound do it yourself vigour. His musical interests were diverse, but he soon found fame and success as the frontman for Amulet. A local band turned international sensation, Amulet put in 15 hardworking years together before disbanding amicably in 2007.

“We felt we had done everything we could,” says Amdam of the band’s culmination and it wasn’t the kind of project that they were able to take into new and uncharted territory. “You can either be David Bowie or you can be The Rolling Stones,” and Amulet couldn’t be either.

What followed was what Amdam describes as a “musical crisis” where he “had to re-adjust” and change his perspective on his artistic career. In 2010 he went solo with the album “Chameleon Days” and through his new work he was “conscious of not committing to a particular genre” in order to “be completely free as an artist.” He took on a “little job” at Ny Musikk Norge and through their contemporary ideology expanded on the punk and hip hop influences that constituted his early musical development and today he has scored films, worked with contemporary innovators like Zweiss and has released 3 LPs as a solo artist to date. “I’m a slut when it comes to genre” says Amdam as he ruptures into a snappy cackle. It’s this promiscuous musical tendency that formed the basis for his upcoming “Bathroom Stall Confessional” album. “What’s kind of different with this concept is that it’s not necessarily mixing up a lot of genres within a song, but rather song for song,” he insists, so each musical piece is like its own isolated experience.

It means that a track like “Jpeg” has very little in common with a track like “Debris” other than the central artistic figure and through that aspect, the bond between these songs are stronger than ever. Amdam dug deep through his personal experiences to arrive at the 15 songs that will eventually make up the LP. Some tracks are also inspired by a period where he was undergoing “psychoanalysis” which in some way influenced the nature of the work. It became “part of the whole project” in his attempt to “let the verbal flow go.” There are literal references in a track titled “Psychoanalysis Is A Bitch” and also some subjective associations in the way Amdam strings together his lyrical content like a patient in the doctor’s chair, but he stops short of saying mental health is a recurring theme in this music.

“For me it’s a verbal project, it’s a music project, but it’s also a visual project,” he says by way of explanation. Every track will have its own visual counterpart with striking collages, intricately designed by Amdam who “wanted to make a very personal and expressive cover for each song.” Using his own photo collection and dedicating a lot of his time, he assembles members of his family, friends and some light pornography in  colourful and eye-catching dioramas with a “graffiti style energy” underpinning the pieces.

I wonder if that is some blatant reference to that other aspect of Amdam’s identity, the skateboarder. Not directly he suggests with a firm shake of the head. Skateboarding has influenced my music in terms of my perception of the world,” and perhaps there’s something in the music and “loving some tactile aggressiveness in the sound,” but these are all “subconscious” aspects to making music he submits.

He plays through the rest of the rest of the LP, playing short little clips, often playing a little air guitar, singing or jumping up and down in his chair as he goes from a “big beat” track to a languid piano ballad. There’s never one of those dulled silences that creeps into interviews, as he’s always quick with a quip or jibe, slapping my knee with a mighty snapping laugh. Is he this excited when he’s making music?

“Yeah I get excited, sometimes I get too excited,” he says with a knowing smirk. During his days in the band there was hardly ever a moment of repose or “social understanding” for Amdam, and he often found himself working through the music in a kind of “trance.” Today he feels much more at ease and while he still gets excited, it’s all channeled through the music and he hopes it’s something the listener could appreciate too.

Little Louie Vega in 8 tracks

Louie Vega was born in Brooklyn. A second generation Puerto Rican immigrant, he grew up in a musical household, consumed with the sounds of Latin origins. Born into a musical family, his father was a Jazz saxophonist and his uncle was the legendary “salsa king” Héctor Lavoe. Here is performing with the salsa supergroup, Fania Allstars to a packed Yankee stadium.

These latin and jazz roots played a pivotal role in Louie Vega’s formative years and still today you can hear echoes of Lavoe and senõr Vega’s Jazz influences coursing through Little Louie’s sets and particularly his music. Salsa and Latin music, unlike uncle Hector’s suit in that video has become a timeless addition in the House music lexicon, and it is especially dominant in contemporary pop music with the birth of tropical House.

Louie Vega was a precocious talent, and started DJing in clubs before even coming of age. He was given the nickname Little Louie, not because of his stature, but because of his relative age to the other DJs in the booth at that time. He was holding residencies at Studio 54, Devil’s Nest, Heartthrob, Roseland and regularly playing at the Palladium, Area, and 1018 as a teenager, and although he couldn’t legally buy a drink from the bar, he was an intoxicating selector, working at some New York’s early seminal House clubs.

Following in the footsteps of the likes of Larry Levan and Frankie Knuckles in New York, Little Louie Vega represented the next generation of DJ. As the maxi single came into its own, calling in a new era for DJs who went from the booth to the studio in the succeeding years, seeking to eek out more from the music through the extended DJ cut, L:ouie Vega came into his own as a producer. He was at the cusp of this new trend and one of the first DJs to put his own spin on a popular record from DJ’s perspective in the form of the remix.

In 1986 he and Joey Gardner joined the Latin rascals in a remix of eighties synth pop band, Information Society’s “Running” and while few remember Information Society today, it laid the groundwork for Little Louie Vega’s fertile and extensive career as a producer and a name that has become synonymous with house music.

His talents didn’t go unnoticed and remixes followed for Cover Girls, Debbie Gibson and Erasure amongst others, before he was picked up by Atlantic records. Going from remixer to artist in 1991 Vega enlisted the help of none other than latin crooner Marc Anthony, to make his mark as a fully fledged artist on “When the night is over”. Infusing Latin rhythms, House beats, modern synthesisers and Anthony’s vocal, Louie Vega made a serious impression with his long player debut and its first single first single, Ride on the Rhythm.

Anthony’s scatting vocals introduces a record that ticks all the boxes in true early nineties fashion. Syncopated house beats… check… hollow bass synthesiser … check … staccato piano stabs… check … R&B vocal… check … breakdown rap… and possibly the most important addition to any seminal 90’s dance track, the saxophone solo… check.  

It was possibly the first ever crossover success for a House artist of Little Louie Vega’s kind, a DJ turned producer. Where producers like Shep Pettibone had already by that time already made their mark on the maxi single as remix artists accommodating the DJ, Louie Vega was one of the first DJs to turn super-producer through his debut LP and went from obscure underground DJ to a successful pop artist, overnight.

Where most would sever their ties with their origins, Louie Vega remained steadfast in his roots with a DJ-friendly remix package from the Masters at Work side project he and Kenny Dope created together.

Louie Vega had not only breached into popular culture with he and Marc Anthony’s LP, but had also secured he and Kenny Dope’s legacy today as two of House music’s biggest and most successful stars in the nineties, a legacy that has waned little as they continue to DJ all around the world and release records with crossover appeal.

They’ve gone by many names in the past including MAW (the abbreviation that is also the name of Louie Vega’s label), KenLou and Soul Fusion, but Masters at Work always had a kind of salient ring to it when describing their work together. Masters at Work was originally coined by Louie Vega as a pseudonym for Tod Terry, who actually recorded a few titles under the name in the 1980’s, but it was eventually rightly co-opted by Vega and Dope when they formed what everybody considers the first producer supergroup.

They released their debut LP in 1993, another quintessential nineties record that carried over the essence of the “when the night is over” remix package into the long player format and immediately established their dominance on the House music landscape, while bringing the subcultural movement into the purview of the mainstream. The first single from the LP, “I can’t get no sleep” featuring the vocals of longtime collaborator India reached number 1 on the US Billboard charts.

They continued to collaborate with India, particularly as Nuyorican Soul (the faceless DJ/producer image of nineties House at work) as they released their second LP  under that moniker, enshrining the sound of nineties House with the likes of the cover of the Loletta Holloway and Salsoul Orchestra classic, “Runnaway.” It has been as remixers where the duo have made the most substantial impact on House music throughout the nineties and well into the present with over a thousand titles to their name. They are uncanny in their ability in taking a fairly ordinary pop track or a forgotten classic and exposing it for its key appeal while redirecting the key elements towards the dance floor.

Remixing is a craft that Louie Vega has mastered both in this project and as a solo artist and he has the accolades to prove it too. Nominated for 7 Grammys in the past, he won the esteemed prize with his remix of Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly” in 2006. A song that is perfection in itself, Louie Vega treats it with awe and the necessary respect as appropriates it for the modern DJ in 2007. It reaffirms House music’s roots, originally established with Funk and Soul tracks from the likes of Mayfield, while stripping it down to its bare necessities for a modern, functional dance floor. It’s a track Vega handles with extreme care as he makes sure to accentuate those key elements like that groovy bass and Mayfield’s vocal, but he puts his own distinctive spin on it and with latin percussion and a jazzy chord progression, Vega makes it his own.

Is it better than the original? Not by a long shot, but the original is a classic, and Vega gets enough distance from it where it can live as its own track, paying homage and reverence to its ancestor.

Today, Little Louie Vega’s own music has also gone to be revered in a similar way. Countless Classic House tracks he created during the nineties have been sampled, edited and remixed and a fair few of these have even made it into the mass popular consciousness, as artists like Kanye West uses Vega tracks in his own creations.

The US rapper’s 2018 chart topping success “Fade” on Life of Pablo uses two very familiar and distinct  Vega (as Hardrive) and Barabra Tucker samples in its construction. The Vega and Barbara Tucker contribution is so prominent in this track, that it calls into question the very validity of  Kanye West as an artist… would that track ever have been so catchy if it weren’t for that distinctive bass and Tucker vocal luring the listener deep inside?

Time and again Louie Vega has made an impression on House music that crossed over to mainstream success and he’s never been one to just rehash the past or entertain tired House music tropes in his creative pursuits. He continues to make music and Djing with his distinctive flair, channeling everything from his Latin roots, Disco education and his position in the House music canon to every aspect of his career.

As he celebrated 28 years of an  illustrious career in 2016 with his last full length, Louis Vega Starring… XXVIII he remained a humble facilitator to the House music genre, paying homage to the great influencers like Funkadelic and 3 Winans Brothers, and collaborating with a fair few new artists on the scene. Here he is collaborating with his wife Anane Vega on Heaven Knows…

*Louie Vega plays Frædag this week with g-HA & Olasnkii and Olefonken.

Can you feel it: A Q&A with Jamie 3:26

Jamie 3:26 was there at the birth of House in Chicago and he continues to perpetuate the black, gay legacy of the city and its music in his sets and his productions today. A stalwart and at the same time a contemporary in his field, he is a prominent figure in the booth today, and spends most of his time playing to large audiences around Europe.

Jamie 3:26 is a rare entity in that legacy; a DJ that was not only able to cross that north- and south divide at home in Chicago, but also be both “Chicago famous” and “world famous” at the same time. He rose to prominence at the epicenter of the first House movement right at the gestation of the scene as a dancer, dancing at the legendary Muzic Box under the musical tutelage of Ron Hardy.

His transition from the dance floor to the booth was a measured progression, Jamie biding his time to learn from the best, by looking over their collective shoulder in the booth. Learning his craft by observing DJs like Ron Hardy and Pharris Thomas, confidence drove Jamie in crafting his unique style in the booth to become one of the limelights locally and beyond as he started playing to audiences in New York and eventually Europe.

After staking his claim in the booth, a career in production beckoned and taking his cues from the legacy of Chicago the first of his Basement Edits series hit record bags in 2008 through ParteHardy records. Seminal edits like “Hit it n Quit it” and “Testify” followed through a reserved but considered discography, harnessing Jamie 3:26’s extensive musical knowledge and channeling it to the modern dance floor.

There are remarkable parallels between what he does through his edit series and his work in the booth.T here’s an immense energy to his sets that prevails in the music as he blends elements of Soul, Funk, Gospel and modern House music through his work and his sets. A Jamie 3:26 is always an electrifying experience and before we get our own personal taste at Jaeger, we shot over some questions to the Chicago DJ to talk about his early formative years, his music, his sets and

*Jamie 3:26 plays Retro tonight with Daniel Gude

 

Hello Jamie. You’re originally from Chicago, but you’ve also lived in Amsterdam. Where do you spend most of your time today?

Hey There!!  Good to meet ya and talk w ya!! I’m born and raised on the south side of Chicago,in a neighborhood called Beverly. I lived between Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Chicago for 2 years. I am now a resident of Rotterdam. This is my new home and I have been here permanently for 2 years. Reminds me so much of Chicago and the people are real.

I assume you travel to play in Chicago quite often at least. How have you seen the music scene evolve since you first left, especially considering how that legacy has been reaffirmed by this latest generation of DJs in Europe?

I only come home twice a year and I rarely play when I do visit. This last visit in March, I played for Reggie Corner’s Sunday event he does with Mike Dunn,on the south side at a spot called Renaissance. It’s the best Sunday night party on the south side. It was a packed house and I really enjoyed playing for and seeing my people.

The scene back home has a few different scenes. Chicago is segregated and it always crossed over into the party scenes and sides of towns and genres. There used to only be a few…you were either into the deep disco and underground/club music, basic house, gay and the underground scene. Some years back, in the late 90’s, it went back underground and was basically on life support, in regards to the black side of things. Frankie’s parties would be the only parties where you’d see the vets and real party people.That used to be 2 times a year. There were some other things still going, like the Prop House, but honestly a lot of those folks were late to the scene and not my kind of music or crowd. No dis to them, but being deep from the culture, I have always sought out the alternative and was on things before they became trendy.

I am proud to say now that there’s quality house music events on EVERY side of town, 7 nights a week. Damn good progress for me.

Being from Chicago, gives me a certain pedigree, that many can mimic and emulate, but I was there, so I have a unique authenticity that can’t be denied. I’m fine with that, yet I don’t carry myself as arrogant, being where I’m from…and the world seems to dig it, so I’m blessed and good with that as well!!!

House music in Europe is quite different from anything in the USA, and in many respects it’s thrived here in a way it never did back in the US. Why do you think it’s so much more popular on this side of the Atlantic, having experienced it on both sides?

I guess part of it would be that it’s still played on the radio, in cafes, shops, restaurants alongside popular music and radio and the mix shows is what helped popularise the music in the States, as well as it being added to stations playlist.  Now that American radio is controlled by corporates, they all play the same playlist across the markets. Where it used to be certain sounds and songs were played in certain regions, it’s now a generic playlist. Club culture and festival culture also plays a part because it’s been passed down to younger generations, versus in Chicago where house music basically stops under the age of 35. With the addition of certain blogs and websites dedicated to dance music, when they do write-ups and articles on dance music legends and provide links, they can go to places like You Tube and Spotify and have an entire genres history at their fingertips.

Chicago (and probably the larger midwest) is where House music was born and you were there as a teenager growing up in the middle of it. It’s hallowed ground, but as always a lot has been assumed about the origins of the scene through the media. How significant was House music at that time in Chicago and how aware were you as a dancer on the floor about this new music?

House culture spawned from black gay underground culture, so if you were into House music at one time it was considered gay music. So you dealt with being outcast, or thought or considered gay, and if you weren’t because a lot of us who were deep into the culture, ours wasn’t the music being played on the radio.  It came from the black gay underground DJ’s who then began performing for high school kids at school dances. Prior to that it was the hot mix style of DJing like the Hot Mix 5 with tricks and scratches. Those DJ’s brought from the underground the style of presenting music, ‘playing’ and EQ manipulation. I equate the House phemonomen and how it spread throughout the city, from the streets to the basement parties to the school parties to the teen clubs to the underground. The same way you could trace the roots of hip hop music in New York. These House parties helped keep a lot of kids off the streets during a very turbulent time with the gang culture. There was a point where you could not go anywhere and not hear any House music. You could hear it everywhere coming from people’s cars, boom boxes, people putting speakers in their windows playing mixes recorded from the radio, to local neighbourhood DJ’s doing the same.

From what I understand, from other interviews I’ve done with other Chicago luminaries, is that House was more of an attitude/lifestyle than a genre music. Is that something you experienced growing up in the scene?

Yes. There was a style, a look, a fashion, lingo, all associated with House. You could look at someone by the way they dressed or wore their hair, you could tell they were House or what you call Deep. I was deep in the culture because that was the ‘live’ crowd. Like people today say lit. You just had to be a part of it.  Even though most of us who were deep into the culture, were outcast, so to speak, because we looked and dressed as people associated with being gay.

When you started DJing it was from your parents record collection. Was there a lot of House music already making its way into DJ sets at that time, or was it still more focussed on elements of Soul, Disco and Funk in the places you were going out to dance?

Those were the original elements of House. What we called House was from all of those genres, before the electronic form of House music came about.  House is Disco’s stepchild.

What were some of your favourite haunts (as a dancer) in Chicago at that time?

Longwood Academy, the Muzic Box / Powerhouse, the Gentle Persuasion, the Hummingbird.  Medusa’s, Hyde Park Racquetball Club and the Bismarck.


I believe you eventually swapped one side of the club for another when you went from dancing to become a DJ. What inspired you to want to become a DJ?

I grew up around a few DJ’s in my family, but they didn’t necessarily mix.  Seeing DJ’s in my neighbourhood throw down at local basement parties made me want to mix. I’m a self-taught DJ learning from various radio station mix shows and observing DJ’s.

From what I’ve read in interviews is that it took you some time, but you basically learnt your craft from looking over the shoulders of working DJs, especially Ron Hardy. In another interview I’ve read you said that there wasn’t particularly a lot of support in Chicago for House music at the time. How supportive were people like Hardy on new blood like yourself  looking over their shoulder?

It wasn’t like the times that I was hanging in the booth at the Box / Powerhouse, that I was even being mentored. They didn’t know I was a DJ. But I watched other DJ’s as well, including Andre Hatchett, Mike WIlliams, Pharris Thomas and anybody I could get close to, to watch them while they played.  No-one really mentored me back then. But some of these same DJ’s I mentioned, my crew, when we were doing promotions, ended up hiring for some of our events. And at times, I would open for them.

Ron’s ParteHardy records brought out your first release (the only non-Hardy release on that label) and Theo Parrish played a hand in bringing it to the masses by playing it a lot in his sets at the time. Is this level of support a common occurrence in the Chicago DJ community today and what is the initiation process like to ascend to the level you’re at now?

ParteHardy records is run by Ron’s nephew Bill, who is a good friend. So as well, I owe a lot to him and Theo for pushing me and believing in me. It’s always been very competitive in Chicago period. You have DJ’s who will support DJ’s and then you have DJ’s who will only support who they get down with. Honestly, it’s just human nature. It’s not something that’s mainly a Chicago thing. For the most part, there’s a lot of us who have been doing our best to break the stereotype concerning Chicago DJ and music culture. I do my best to represent my city in a positive light and to support talent in my city. I also don’t play politics with my music. So sometimes that has strained my relationship, because I don’t play what I don’t feel whether my best friend made it or a stranger made it. I gotta feel it.

You were DJing for the longest time in and around Chicago before breaking through as a DJ  and getting gigs further afield. What was the major turning point in your career as a DJ?

I would have to say being an active member of DeepHousepage.com. That message board had a community that was global and it made me venture out of Chicago. That first trip to New York city in 2000 was life changing and humbling. It showed me that this was much more bigger than Chicago. My first international DJ gigs came via that website.

For a while you had your own mobile Disco service. How did you have to adapt your mixing style and DJ sets when you started getting booked on the merit of your releases?

I had to learn to give these people what they heard of me and not cater and me catering, thinking that I had to play a certain way because I was in Europe, ended up being not a good gig. I learnt fast.

I’ve noticed in the comments on your Boiler Room set that the opinion was very divided on your use of the filter. How much emphasis do you put on technique and mixing style and how did you arrive at the way you mix today?

That event had over 700 people losing their minds on a sick sound system. I could care less what some lames in the comments section have to say, because those people partied their asses off and that’s all that matters. I have different styles of playing and mixing. It depends on what atmosphere I create. I can do short quick mixes, long blends or crazy EQ work.  Or just clean presentation. It all depends on my mood. I utilise EQ work to create drama within the music.

Is it still a learning process for a DJ with so much experience?

A DJ is forever a student.  No-one knows all of the jams and there’s tons of undiscovered music out here.  I’m still a fan of this music. And forever a student.

Your sets are incredibly dynamic and it takes me back to that idea of House as an attitude rather than a genre or a style of music as your sets very rarely stick to modern 4-4 House tracks. What is your perception of the term House today and what are your thoughts on  the very formulaic norm of the genre in recent times?

It seems that some DJ’s can only stick to one lane of music. Hearing one same groove all night gets boring. Mix it up. That’s why we call it mixing.

What do you look for in a record to make it into a Jamie 3:26 set?

It has to have a groove.  It also has to make me dance.  If it doesn’t make me shake my ass, I won’t play it.

I hear a lot of edits in your sets, including your own productions. What makes an edit work in the context of a DJ set in your opinion?

Energy. That’s it.

When it comes to your own edits, what do you look for in a track in the first place to edit it and how do you usually put your own mark on it?

Once again it’s about energy.  If a song has a high part and a then a big section full of fluff, I cut out the fluff and go straight for the meat and bones.

I only have one more question Jamie and here comes the plug. You’re playing at our weekly concept called RETRO and as you might have guessed it is about highlighting the legacy and the imprint of House on music today. How would you sum that up with what you know and is there an element of the origins of the genre that you’d like to get back to?

I do my best to keep the true underground culture of House music alive. That was taught to me by my elders in the game. This shit is real to me because it’s my life. It shaped me, molded me and beat me down, in a good way. I would like to bring back the element of people dancing together and not with their cell phones facing the DJ or them with their cell phones on the dance floor.  I just want people to feel the true freedom of being lost in music without a care in the world.

 

Lost in Lindos with Tarjei Nygård

Beguiling melodies bouncing through octaves in jolly leaps, play between the deep, rolling waves of bass as Tarjei Nygård’s latest EP, “Lost in Lindos” completes the first bars of “Bleausa.” Elegant keys stroking at chords in ascending melodic themes are bookended between the downtempo rhythm section and the tropical atmosphere enveloping the opening track. That track is “from 2014” says Tarjei over an impromptu telephone call on a Friday afternoon. Lost in Lindos “started with that track” when he sent Andrew Hogge from ESP institute an unsolicited email, which prompted the response from the label head: “I want to put this track out, do you have any other tracks?”

You’ve had a pretty reserved output since putting out your first EP on Prins Thomas’ Full Pupp label.

I don’t just put out stuff to put out stuff. I’m more interested in making tracks and haven’t spent that much time in pushing the music out.”

So what brought this EP to ESP institute?

“It just started with, I’m going to send him an email.”

Tarjei is on the phone from the Kunsthall in Stranvanger, where is currently occupied in his day job as an events producer. His position puts him “in charge of events, setting up exhibitions” and “programming music concepts.” It’s a favourable position for anybody with an invested interest in music like his, and something of a dream position for the artist from Notodden. “That’s always been what I wanted,” he explains and it clarifies the reserved output to some degree; with no need to constantly distribute, he can focus on only getting the best of the music he’s made into the world.

Do you think your sound has evolved a lot since your first record, Katapult to Lost Lindos?

“It’s difficult to say because you can’t really get a bird’s eye view on your own music, but it is always an organic approach.”

“Katapult had been sitting for a while, before it got into (Prins) Thomas’ hands” and onto the Full Pupp  label and before Tarjei had started negotiating his way through the organic sounds he perpetuates through all his records as a solo artist he had dabbled in all kinds of other music. Growing up in rural Notodden, there wasn’t really any scene to talk of, but it was “very musical city” in Tarjei’s opinion nonetheless.

Tarjei had grown up in a very musical home. His father, an ordained minister has always been a “music lover” with “a huge collection of jazz and classical music” and he plied Tarjei’s formative years and musical education with a combination of these records and the “cheesy” Norwegian gospel music from the congregation. At home his father also played the piano, and although Tarjei admits that music had always been “very important” in his home, he was never lured over to the piano or any other instrument for that matter and considers himself a “self-taught musician” today. He had a vested interest in music as a committed listener however and started “exploring new music” as soon as he became conscious of it. When he was old enough, he “got a job at a local record store and started digging from the get go.” It wouldn’t be long before Djing and producing enticed the young Nygård out from the counter and into the booth.  

How did you arrive at making music?

“ I got a hold of a couple of technics turntables and then it all just fell into place.”

And Djing came first?

“Yeah but it all kind of happened at the same time because then I discovered this program called Reason. I got a bootleg CD from a friend that met a guy in the military.

The clandestine exchange through the army barracks, had set Tarjei on a path as an artist. He had found an immediate affinity with the music software and “started making music on the computer” almost intuitively. He “understood Reason quite fast” and utilised it to his designs in making mostly sample-based music in the beginning.

Tarjei approached DJing with everything from “funk, hiphop breaks and house music” coming into his purview. “I’ve never been thinking very genre-wise about the approach,” he explains. “it’s always been; ‘ah I like that song, I’m going to play that song.’”

How does this relate to what you do as a producer?

“I get inspired by the music I buy to play out. The music I produce is what goes through the system. I have certain sounds that I like, and it kind of all funnels through.“

What music were you making before you made your first record?

“I was producing hip-hop beats for rappers and I played in a band.”

What was the name of the band?

“Ah, I don’t really want to go down that road”… (laughs)

Tarjei admits “it took a long time” before he arrived at Katapult and the record had been sitting for some time before Prins Thomas heard it. But after sending the originals in their demo form and getting the OK from the Full Pupp boss, he quickly sent along the record in its completed form without much hesitation from Thomas who put them out immediately via his label. A couple of singles followed for Maksimal records and Full Pupp respectively in the consecutive year, and then there was a three year hiatus before Tarjei came back with “Bleausa” the first track on the latest EP and the promo single that preceded the eventual release of  “Lost in Lindos” in 2019.

All the tracks were made in the studio except for “Øylie” which he made on in an impromptu  musical cabin retreat with his friend Are Foss. “My good friend Are Foss should be mentioned” stresses Tarjei in a hurried voice, “because he was vital to ‘Øylie’ and to the record in a way.”

“Øylie” is a completely immersive ambient track. Are Foss strumming through the echoes of his guitar in one take, creates a languid movement, with minor modulations as the repetitions coaxed from an echo machine creates its own surprising patterns against a backdrop of sterile  keys and biotic atmospheres. Swathed in pads and feedback cascading through the main riff like light through a forest canopy, Tarjei and Are create a sublime, tranquil piece that plays beautifully against the knowledge of the setting of the recording.

The original “idea was to put a concert together for the birds,” says Tarjei through whatI surmise is a smile. Originally, there had been some intention to make club music, but it had been “impossible because the environment actually has a lot to say, surprisingly.” They drove all their equipment down to Are’s secluded cabin on a “sketchy “four-wheeler motorcycle and set up a makeshift studio in the cabin. Completely secluded, they could “play as loud” as they wanted and from that single riff, whittled down to a single chord and an echo, “Øylie” came to life and completed the “Lost in Lindos” EP.

What’s next for you after this record?

“I’m actually working on an EP with tracks made from that cabin session. We went back there  this winter and this time we took all the instruments on a scooter. “(laughs)

Will it feature that same organic sound of Øylie?

“Yes, when I work with Are it goes that way.”

Tarjei has no intentions of reaching out to a label for that one just yet, and is still just in the process of finishing those pieces. There is no immediate rush, and Tarjei will maintain that same organic approach to making music that has made his records such prominent and significant contribution to the Norwegian electronic and DJ music scene.

Whatever he puts out, if he does indeed feel the need to put something out, will undeniably be yet another considered record that will make a unique impression, like every record before it and “Lost in Lindos” did this year. When I look down at the clock, I’ve run over our allocated time, but Tarjei is amenable and waves off the delay with a guffaw. I start to hang up, but then remember something…

O, but wait we have to plug the upcoming night with Hubbas Klubb at Jaeger. Have you started preparing your record bag?

“I haven’t started collecting records for that night, but I always like fun and quirky House records.”

And considering it’s the day after 17th May, will that influence your selections on the night?

“O, I guess I have to find the perfect champagne hungover music.” (laughs)

 

“We didn’t make shit for anybody else” – Jamie 3:26 in profile

Jamie 3:26 embodies the spirit and origins of House music. It’s even there in his name; 3:26 a reference to the address of the iconic Music Box in Chicago, where Ron Hardy held a residency and where Jamie first became aware of this thing called House. Born and raised in Chicago, it was dancing that led the nascent DJ and producer towards a path to House music. “I was introduced to this from my family,” he told Black Widow’s Web in 2018. “We would have a lot of parties at our house. Eventually, I began sneaking out to some of those basement parties. That’s when I started really getting into going to the parties and dancing. That was around 1985.”

Hip Hop had laid the foundation for an interest in music and DJing, but dancing was Jamie’s access to this nocturnal paradise in Chicago. “That’s how house music started;” Jamie compares; “DJs started making their own stuff to separate themselves and to be different.” Although the dance floor was his domain, the DJ booth beckoned, but it would remain a hobby for the longest time, due to some crippling stage fright. “I would kick ass in the basement but when it came time for the gig I would freak out and mess up,” he told 5 Mag’s Terry Matthew back in 2013. “I had a few chances to do some parties and they were like, ‘Okay, Jamie, go back to dancing.’”

Dancing did however offer the young Jamie a gateway to some of Chicago’s leading lights behind the decks, DJ’s like Ron Hardy, who he would often mention as a major inspiration in interviews. From his unique vantage point he “studied a lot of popular DJs and learned about timing and how they set up songs and things like that”. He “would hang out at the Music Box/Powerhouse on 22nd and Michigan” and “when they would DJ downstairs, Ron (Hardy) would let me get in the back and check him out.”

Influenced by Hardy and other greats like Lil Louis and Pharris Thomas he worked at his skills. These luminaries taught him about things like “crowd control” and armed with his parents’ record collection, he set out to master his craft like an astute student from these legends of House music.

When Jamie’s confidence started to mature as a DJ, he and some friends started a crew called lust corp and even though they weren’t meeting the age requirements at the door, they had youthful exuberance and numbers on their side. “We were a pretty deep crew,” explains Jamie. “We had the gift of gab and would talk our way in.”  Combining the lessons he learnt from the DJs around him and the experience he was gathering in the booth as a DJ, he eventually came into his own in the Chicago scene. Admittedly, it took him a “while to get it all together” but when he did, he instinctively set himself apart from the rest of the scene through his selections.

He and his crew “would listen to music and be like, ‘Aww that sounds like something Frankie would play or Ronnie may play,’” avoiding these records for something undiscovered and something that could distinguish them from their senior peers.  “We were looking for that gem, something to set you apart that no one had.” By the time Jamie was coming into his own as a DJ, Chicago had played an integral role in the dominance of House music on an international level, but at home it still had its own divisions across the scene. “You can have someone from Chicago that’s known everywhere around the world”… Jamie told 5 mag, “and here, they’ll be like, ‘Who are you? He ain’t shit.’” That kind of trial by fire must have had some effect on Jamie and well before he started making waves on the international circuit, he spent years proving himself on the local circuit. “In regard to any kind of scene, there’s not a lot of hometown support,” but Jamie persevered and by the time he released his first record, he had not only garnered the respect of people like Theo Parrish and the Hardys, but had also started to make his imprint in DJ booths in places like New York.

Between starting to DJ and that first release, nearly a couple of decades transpired, but Jamie’s ascent onto the world stage had still been a rapid one after the release of basement edits volume 1 on Bill (Ron’s brother) Hardy’s Parte Hardy label. It was a huge honour as the first, and to this day, the only artist ever to feature on the label other than Ron Hardy. Jamie’s music lifted some choice samples from some obscure records, cut them down to their bare essentials and built them back up to a point where they’d combine their infectious, at times familiar origins with a modern take on the dance floor.

Jamie’s music is built on the very same foundations of that Chicago legacy and the traditions of the edit, first introduced to the world by the likes of Hardy and Pharris, which still to this day sets the city’s music apart from the rest of the world.  “That’s what made the Chicago sound so unique and so different:” he says about the music. “We didn’t make shit for anybody else but us. They discovered us. We didn’t make shit for New York or Europe. This was for us.”

But it didn’t take long for the rest of the world to cotton on to Jamie 3:26. Theo Parrish was particularly instrumental in disseminating Jamie’s edits and even before the basement edits volume 1 came out he had been championing his Chicago counterpart through his sets. “I owe a lot to Theo Parrish,” urges Jamie in 5 mag. “I gave him a disc a few years earlier and he found a few of my edits that he loved and played the fuck out of them.”

From there Jamie started getting gig offers in New York and eventually Europe, and his popularity continued to grow around the world as the producer of edits like “Hit it n Quit it”, “Testify” and many more for labels like Rush Hour and Lumberjacks in Hell. A move to Amsterdam put him in reach of an European audience and his prowess in the booth had gone from being a local secret in the insular scene in Chicago to a prominent fixture in booths all around the world.

He might have taken longer than his Chicago peers to get to the same level, but Jamie 3:26 is a Chicago legend in every respect and more. He is one of the few Chicago DJs that can boast being both world famous and Chicago famous, and he is one of a very select few DJs in Chicago that can bridge the North and South divide in his hometown, an “imaginary Mason-Dixon Line” at Roosevelt Street as he calls it in 5 Mag. “There’s two different house music worlds here,” according to Jamie in 2013, “there’s a black house music world and a white house music world” and Jamie is one of the few DJs that is welcomed in both. “You can call me the Rosa Parks of House Music!” he jokes, but it verifies his unique ability to please a diverse crowd through his sets.

There’s a personality to the music he brings to his sets and the way he strings them together. Vocals and that Chicago funk bring a dynamism that seems to electrify and energise the dance floor and with Jamie’s individuality as a DJ through what he’s learnt and experienced through one of the most dominant House music scenes in the world, there are few DJs that does what he does in the way he does it.

 

*Jamie 3:26 plays Retro this Thursday, on the eve of 17.May. 

Front Left Speaker: Clubbing’s bourgeoisie on a trip in the desert and the inconvenient truth about a sustainable festival

Crossing the threshold into Afrika Burns in 2013, a band of carnival characters encourage newcomers to abandon the outside world in theatrical flair, ringing in a suspended gong under a sign reading: “you are entering the real world.” The real world? A week of escapism in an inhabitable corner of the Klein Karoo desert, far enough removed from society to become its own self-contained community where revellers indulge their creative fantasies and whims in an effort to leave the problems of the outside world at bay, for a weekend in April.

Your only access to this “real world” is a rocky road, which the mid-size rental, struggles along at a blistering 40km/h through a constant veil of dust as expensive 4×4 pickup trucks zoom past at twice the speed, eager to get to the only destination on that road. The sedan creaks to a halt at the gate, the suspension hardly displaying the same exuberant bounce it had when we first took ownership of the vehicle, as the load, including three people and about 600l of water, proved too much for the little car on those gravel roads. Besides a couple of plastic hubcaps, which were swallowed up by the dust, we arrive in one piece, and enter the “real world”, with a cymbal ringing out across the vast empty landscape.

Afrika Burns is a subsidiary of Burning Man, the world-renowned cultural event that erects a temporary, creative metropolis in the Nevada desert each year, with the climax of the event culminating in the burning of an amorphous effigy, before the “city” evaporates again into thin air. In the last ten years however, the festival has been dominated by a kind of tech-industry bourgeoisie and businessman-turned-temporary-hedonist in a week orchestrated solely for experimenting with all kinds of drugs, especially of the psychotropic variety. Transpose this to an arid desert enclave in the heart of South Africa’s Klein Karoo, and you have Afrika Burns.

While temporary infrastructures erected to be literally burned to the ground for the sake of the amusement for a bunch of white trust fund kids, carries its own socio-political questions in the complex tapestry of South Africa’s history, this is not the place and the time to fuel that fire (pardon the pun), especially with elections looming, but I will say this: it’s a thought that comes abundantly obvious as those expensive 4×4’s, overland trucks and various motorised toys for boys started rolling in and setting up mega-camps with all the luxuries of home to accommodate a five-night stay. (Later editions of Afrika Burns would even offer “glamping” options for the more discerning kind of hedonist, completely unsanctioned by the organisers.)

Our camp, which was three tents and a few mattresses, was erected in a matter of minutes, and we immediately made our way to the cultural hub at the centre of the festival, getting swept up in the carnival atmosphere and the ensuing dust storm of the first night. The first evening (we were in it for the long haul, the whole five days) was a tentative step into the “burner” way of life as we indulged the creative whimsy of the folksy art and the temporary installations that had been erected prior to our arrival.  Mutant vehicles glided past, illuminated in colourful LED lights as if floating on air in the pitch-black natural darkness of the desert. On the outskirts of the camp a brilliant, starry night emerged out of the dusk and the dust as the first sound systems burred and spluttered into life in the inner circle of the camp.

An old double-decker bus created by a local crew called ledhedz decked out in a convertible roof that flipped open to neon psychedelic microchip and DJ booth, quickly became the main attraction, and stayed it for the duration of the festival in fact. Through the night more and more people would be lured to the deep and effervescent sounds of the bus as some of Cape Town’s DJ luminaries like Bruno Morphet provided the playlist for the night, with a selection of Deep/Tech -House and minimal sounds partnering perfectly with the vast extensive landscape stretching out in every direction. Every bleep and pop of a kick seemed to get sucked into the amorphous black hole of the night and the desert, enticing bodies and ears to its sonic  luminous charm.

We staked our position in front of the impressive mobile sound system for the first time, lubricated with only alcohol to stave off the cold night air (in April the desert temperatures drop to the single digits in the Karoo). Our first night would be a relatively calm one as we tried to embrace this new self-sustaining civilisation, but our dough-eyed optimism in our newly discovered utopia would be short-lived, as by the next night it became abundantly clear what this was really all about; a drug festival in the desert for a kind of clubbing bourgeoisie.

The demographic was made up of marketing / advertiser young professionals; trust-fund hippies; and a few of the folks from the ever-popular psy-trance “scene” around the Western Cape (often cross-sectioning with the trust fund hippy). Everybody there came of some kind of means, us included, and none of us were in need of any kind of escape from the drudgery of the everyday; most of us were all seasoned clubbers and by association proficient politoxicologists.

On the second night, the liquid acid came out. A couple of drops around the dying embers of a fire and we were back at the ledhedz bus. As the bass from the bus went deeper and slower, the music started taking on swirling patterns that seemed to melt into the scenery, and everything fell into place. The installations, the mutant vehicles, the LED lights, the carnival atmosphere, and the secluded setting (especially this last part) were all there to indulge and in many cases heighten the psychotropic experience.

And if this was the only narrative they would spin, it would be fine, but the whole Burning Man franchise (and yes it is a franchise), is not marketed like that (and yes it is marketed). The ideology behind the festival series is about creating this self-sustaining desert metropolis where money is irrelevant and we become one with nature (leaving no imprint of our brief existence) in some form of progressive social society, but the reality is quite different.

By the third night in front of the ledhedz bus, the trash started piling up. The philosophy of taking all your trash with you had clearly not survived as Afrika Burns reached its climax and the twenty-something revellers forgot the utopian ideal they arrived with, strewing their plastic bottles, feather boas and cigarette butts wherever they danced that night. A social media feed (yes, you can get facebook in the desert – so much for leaving the fake world behind) from the ledhedz crew had shown the lower deck of the buss absolutely filled to the brim with bags of trash, none of which were their own.

The new social order quickly decayed into something more familiar, friendly acquaintances made on the first couple of nights, came of nothing and the groups that came together stayed together, tightly huddled together to avoid sharing their dwindling narcotic supplies.

The drug experiences continued, and everything was available… for a price that is. It seems that buck stops quite quickly in self-sustaining trading community, because your creative indulgence, free candy or holistic service still won’t buy you what you actually want, and that’s where good ole capitalism will always prevail. Even water, it turned out, wasn’t a commodity intended for trading. But that was ok, because the people at Afrika Burns have the means to provide their own provisions, which subverts the whole ideology of the burning man experience… doesn’t it?

By the fourth day I was over it. Caked in dirt, the drugs done, and all the liquid refreshment warm, I had had my fill and turned in early, purposefully avoiding the burning of the effigy. The allure of LED lights, impromptu folk art and even electronic music had run its course, and although the experience as a whole had left an impression on me, it was a conflicted one that came to an abrupt end with an explosion.

That final night, the camp behind us, the one that housed the volunteers, erupted in flames; the result of drug-addled mind trying to make a piece of toast. Fire!, somebody yelled running past my tent in the middle of the night, and in a sleep-deprived state, I answered, of course, we’re at Afrika Burns. Then I saw the flames, a terrifying blaze lapping up against the small road that separated our camp from the next.  “Yeah that seems about the perfect end to it” I thought calculating the distance and time it would take for the flames to reach the car, our tents and all our belongings. Fortunately this was the right place for a fire to happen if there ever was going to be one, and the organisers managed to quell it before it could do any really harm or damage, and a sense of relief spilled over me as I realised our only way out of there, the car. was still in tact.

Sleep on my rigid little stretcher didn’t come easy that night, not so much for the events that transpired, but just the sheer exhaustion of living a working week in the “real world.”  The morning illuminated the extent of the fire, the scorched earth and stories of helpless festival goers separated from their camp by the flames.

Packing up was even harder that morning than erecting the camp, as we had to shoehorn a pile of trash into the car alongside all those unused supplies. I marvelled at my neighbours as they were suddenly overcome with the giving spirit of the festival, offering free showers and past-expiration date food on the last day in an effort to avoid an overloaded haul over that bumpy, gravel terrain.. Many of the other mega-camp structures followed suit as they finally saw the need to shed their worldly belongings for the sake of lightening their loads and trash for the ride home. With no basic infrastructure it seems that we made more waste than what we would have if we had just stayed home.

We could’ve left these hedonistic adventures for the city, where things like trash disposal, ablutions and sewage is readily available, and left nature intact and undisturbed as it was before. Surely digging a trench for 1000’s of people’s evacuations must do something to the PH levels in the soil. All those disposal plastic water bottles have to go somewhere and it might not be a desert, but a trash heap somewhere else instead, doesn’t make a great solution either. Making 15 000 people drive 100’s of kilometres in fuel-hungry 4×4’s kicking up tons of dust in what is usually untouched terrain, certainly can’t be good for the atmosphere. Chauffeuring 50-odd DJs – some with a helicopter I might add– for about an hour and a half of playtime seems counter-intuitive with what we know about global warming today. Afrika Burns for all its ideologies and efforts is simply unsustainable.

No, I don’t think Afrika Burns is the great white hope of creating a sustainable festival experience, but in all honesty, Afrika Burns and even the bigger Burning Man franchise is the most conscious of it. It’s one of the better festivals in this regard, but a sustainable festival is an elusive pipedream; 1000’s of people temporarily migrating on mass to listen to DJs and artists flown in from all over the world for a brief performance, is just not sustainable.   

Our drive back was solemn and quiet affair, as we bobbed up and down on our rigid suspension, the whole car smelling the trash collected over five days, and three unwashed individuals. Every roadside bin on the way back, even the ones still technically in a nature reserve, was its only little trash heap. At the festival sight volunteers had already started combing through the desert for everything from plastic water bottles to glitter, as the trucks, 4x4s and overland busses started evacuating the site. I vowed this was the first and only time, and I’ve never been to a festival since.

A few days later, in the centre of Cape Town, we see one of the mutant vehicles, a vespa-turned-luminescent-swan leaving a streaking light in its wake. Are we in the real world now?

* Would you like to contribute ti the Front left Speaker series with your own tale from rave? Send us an email with your story. 

A musical eden – The Kala festival with AKA Juan & Ollie Shapiro

The Kala Festival has transformed a little Albanian enclave in the Adriatic sea into a musical eden for a weekend in summer. The stunning location and sincere and considered booking strategy makes this little boutique festival in Dhërmi a musical retreat in all sense of the phrase. It’s a musical festival, but it’s also a vacation with a breathtaking setting and all the amenities of holiday rather than the arduous toil of your average festival.

Now in its second year Kala has established itself as one of the most exciting new developments on the festival circuit with a distinct approach to booking that stands apart from the rest with one of the most eye-watering lineups of the season, curated around the setting. Hunnee, Midland, Theo Parrish, Honey Dijon and Derrick May are some of the headliners for the festival, and with the likes of Brian not Brian, Jayda G and Fatima completing the lineup, and collaborators like Phonica and secretsundaze on the bill, there’s a dominant Balearic and House mood that looks set to prevail at Kala this year.

In 2019 Jaeger will collaborate with the festival for the first time and have occupied the Splendor stage for a day with Prins Thomas, Øyvind Morken, Bjørn Torske and Olanskii providing DJ sets well into the depths of the night. But before we do that AKA Juan & Ollie Shapiro will be joining us at Jaeger to bring a bit of the Kala life to our backyard. Armed with some 7” records and some 1” usb sticks, they have the floor for the evening to disseminate the sound of the Kala festival through their back to back set.  

AKA Juan and Ollie Shapiro are both intrinsic fixtures in the London DJ circuit. Coming from two distinct corners of the scene, they find a common ground in the booth, perpetuated through and influenced by the music profile of the Kala festival. With everything from Drum n Bass to Balearic influencing their selections, they are not constrained by fixed genres or styles in their sound. But besides that we know very little of AKA Juan & Ollie Shaprio and the origins of Kala festival, so we popped them an email to find out more ahead of their visit.

 

© Photography by Josh Hiatt for Here & Now (fb.com/wearehereandnow)

Hello Juan and Ollie, and thanks so much for taking the time to answer a few questions for us. Let’s start with you. Can you tell us a bit about your own history with electronic music and DJing?

Juan: I had just finished music school when I first saw a video of A-Trak cuttin’ and scratching at the DMC world championship, think it was 2003 or 2004. I was fascinated by the way he was creating something completely new with just two turntables and a mixer. Sold my all my snowboard equipment to get my first pair of decks shortly after and locked myself up until I was able to scratch. My neighbours loved it :)

Ollie: I grew up in Bristol where it was kind of impossible to escape rave music, especially at that time. My first experiences were of Jungle and D&B, and it absolutely blew me away – hundreds of people losing their mind to music all at the same time – and very shortly I’d gotten some cheapo Stanton decks and was copying Andy C double-drops to imagined crowds of thousands in my parent’s house. I still have all those records somewhere…

How did you guys meet and what cemented your musical relationship?

Juan: We met through work actually. We both were part of the team that developed the concept of Kala. We are a small team based in London, shouts to the rest of the team, they are amazing!

Where do your musical tastes intersect?

Juan: I think Kala illustrates this quite accurately. We come from different backgrounds and both have quite a broad taste but there is a common thread that connects soul, disco, house and techno and that’s where we find common ground.

Ollie: Yep. Funnily enough we worked together for about 6 months before DJing together at all – and we kind of threw ourselves into that with closing Kala last year (which we’re doing again this year) – but we’d spent so much time discussing music that we knew we’d gel.

You have both been fixtures in London for some time. Who and what are some of your musical affiliations in the scene there?

Juan: I worked at Phonica Records for quite a few years which really made an impact on my music taste. Not only because I got exposed to a wild range of genres but also because I got to hang out with really knowledgeable people and all sorts of record nerds. We held residencies all over the city which normally means playing all night long sets and being able to play all sorts of music and take journeys through genres. I’m looking forward to playing all night at Jaeger this Saturday!

Ollie: I help run a charity party called Family Tree, which is very much centred around a big group of friends. I also regularly play all night in a club in Hackney called – seriously – Oslo. Also a quick shout out to some of the great London party-throwers who have had us play recently – Secretsundaze, World Unknown, Feelings and the rest!

Tell us a bit about the origins of the Kala festival.

Juan: One of the founders visited Dhërmi while on holiday and immediately saw the potential of the location. Launching a new festival in a previously unused location is not an easy task, it took over 4 years of preparation to bring it to life but we have an incredible team and couldn’t be happier with how things went last summer. This year is looking even better!

 

© Photography by Josh Hiatt for Here & Now (fb.com/wearehereandnow)

It’s in its second year. What did you take away from the first year and what has been the crucial ideology behind the festival since it’s started?

Juan: From the beginning, we wanted to offer a different kind of festival experience. Kala dares to blur the lines between holiday and music festival. It offers a week of thoughtfully curated music, paradisiacal beaches, holiday and wellness activities and the opportunity to travel to an unknown destination – Albania is the last short-haul European sunspot that hasn’t been flooded by mass tourism.

We also put great effort in the programming. You can spend the day relaxing at one of the amazing beaches, go snorkeling or take a boat to Gjipe – a beach forest sitting at the end of a natural canyon where the likes of Jamie Tiller and John Gómez play during the weekend. At night, headline DJs play extended 5h sets, which means there is time to check other stages and acts without missing out. It’s a more relaxed festival experience than having to plan your day and night in order to see everyone you bought the ticket for.

How does the booking strategy reflect this?

Ollie: Every single DJ we have at Kala is someone I’d trust with an all-night set at a club. I think that’s a big test for me – are they just a producer who’s had a few big tunes? If so, that’s not really our vibe. If they’re the sort of DJ who can hold it down on many different types of dancefloors at many different times of day or night, then they’re much more likely to fit in at Kala.

With the bookings for 2019 there seems to be a specific kind of sound/mood to your choices. Is there usually a theme for your choices of acts/DJs and what influenced your decisions for this year?

Ollie: Haha – the theme is ‘really, really good’. I have a huge longlist of DJs and live acts that have blown me away in some way or another. Then we look at the programming plan across the week, and find DJs from that list who fit every slot – who do we want to play this sunrise slot? Who do we want to knock it out of the park at peak time at Empire? There’s SO many fantastic DJs around at the moment that it’s incredibly exciting (and hard!) planning it all out.

How much does the setting play a role in the sound of the festival?

Ollie: A huge role. It’s such an incredible place that the sound and the setting are totally intrinsic. You can feel that while you’re there, too; the sense of freedom people feel while there extends into the way they interact with the music. It becomes very open-minded and DJs can really tap into that.

Why did you decide on Albania for the location?

Ollie: The founder Juan mentioned above who went to Dhermi on holiday has a Kosovan partner; they took them there, and that was that. The enthusiasm and hospitality we encountered from the Albanians during the planning just cemented it.

What is the local scene like in Albania for DJs and House music, and how does that factor into the festival?

Ollie: Tirana has some maaad warehouse parties, and some wicked local selectors – we have a bunch coming down to play!

© Photography by Josh Hiatt for Here & Now (fb.com/wearehereandnow)

Jaeger will also be hosting a stage at Kala this year alongside Secretsundaze, Phonica Records, Stamp The Wax, Feelings and World Unknown. What’s the nature of these collaborations and what should we expect in our first year?

Ollie: It’s really just a case of (in some sense) like-minded musical souls who we get excited about the prospect of letting them do their thing. There’s a lot of parallels in ethos between Jaeger and Kala, and not just in the bookings. Plus, giving a night under the stars on the beach to Prins Thomas, Oyvind Morken, Bjorn Torske and Olanskii is just…how could it be anything other than brilliant?

You’ll be bringing the Kala spirit of the festival over to Oslo this weekend. If you had to sum that up in one track, what would it be?

Juan: It’s hard to boil it down to only one track but I’m looking forward to dropping this Zazou Biyake Afro-acid mix. https://youtu.be/gkU4hbN7t6I

Ollie: Oooof that’s tough! Gonna go with Juan’s cop-out too and say this is quite a Kala track by Tony Esposito that I’m looking forward to pumping out at Jaeger: https://youtu.be/Awp-O9rtGgI

You’re playing to our backyard all night long. How do you imagine your set going on the night?

Juan: Probably start with some 7 inches, rare groove and balearic disco then move on to housier territories, italo, cosmic disco and let’s see where we end up!

Ollie: Sounds about right. I’m bringing a USB stick rather than vinyl though, so my 7 inches will be more like 1 inches…

Thank you Juan and Ollie. That’s all the questions I have. Do you have anything to add?

Thanks for having us! We are really looking forward to play at the club!

 

Album of the Week: Prins Thomas – Ambitions

Writing about a new Prins Thomas LP has become a regular occurrence here at Jaeger over the last two years. He’s found a creative stride in the album format since “Principe Del Norte” as a solo artist and collaborator for Smalltown Supersound. “Ambitions” is his second solo effort and fourth LP for the Oslo based label in the last three years. In between he’s also released 5 (his fifth studio LP) on his own Prins Thomas Musikk imprint or Full Pupp and a string of EPs, remixes and singles, all culminating in one of the most prolific eras for Prins Thomas as an artist since the start of is career.

“Ambitions”, like “Principe Del Norte” absconds from Thomas’ numerically titled LPs and like “Square One” with Bjørn Torske and the LP he made with Bugge Wesseltoft before this one, it veers from the “space disco” sound he’s cultivated through the years. “Ambitions” favours a similar organic approach to those records, a kind of krautrock, pop record that marries Prins Thomas extensive musical dialogue as a DJ with his skilfully precise work as a producer. Everything lately in Prins Thomas’ music seems to be underpinned by some funky bass guitar, bouncing between bongo drums, as synthetic manoeuvres breeze by in free improvised melodic expressions tethered to a whim.

Past the ambient opener of “Ambitions”, we jump right into that sound on “XSB” and from there the album scours the absolute limits of Thomas’ musical abilities as Disco, Funk, House and Synth Wave converge on this LP. It is indeed an ambitious endeavour as Thomas attempts to bring these disparate corners of his musical purview together on the LP. The tracks on “Ambitions” were recorded in isolation and independently from each other in various fleeting circumstances; hotel rooms, airplanes, backstage rooms, patios and studios. It was only when Joakim Haugland from Smalltown Supersound turned his “critical ears” to these works that they started to take shape as an album through Thomas’ distinctive production touch.

It’s an album made up of songs, rather than a defined concept or context and for the listener this creates ephemeral relationships with distant musical universes, that never quite lands on its feet as an album, but like a Prins Thomas DJ set, keeps pulling you off towards a new direction at the turn of each track. Unlike his last LP on Smalltown Supersound, “Principe Del Norte”there are specific moments like “Feel the Love” which seems to be directed for the dance floor, but at the same time there are also those more contemplative moments like the title track and its objective associations.

The resemblances to Prins Thomas’ previous numerical LPs are tenuous, as it was for the previous Smalltown Supersound works, and it seems that the label boss has unearthed, and is nurturing a new side to Prins Thomas’ artistry one that has been embedded in very fertile ground of late.

Accessible Party Music – Profile on Container

“When I started Container I wasn’t consciously trying to make weird music,” Ren Schofield (Container) told Resident Advisor in 2011. “I was actually trying to do a straight-ahead techno project, but… people have been talking about how weird the music is.” On the fringes of Noise, where it crosses over into elements of Techno, is where the music of Container exists. Schofield’s only intention for the project was to make “accessible party music,” but since releasing his debut LP in 2011, the music has been embraced for its “weirdness,” by an audience dancing in the margins of club music and noise music enthusiasts looking for some kind of familiar beat construction in the barrage of distortion and feedback the predicates that genre. In that respect the music of Container is “accessible party music,” if that party were at the gates of hell and we were all dancing to Gabriel’s horn.


Schofield’s music as Container makes no concessions for accessibility in any traditional form through a barrage of incessant drums and a sonic soup of incoherent one-note bass modulations. A profusion of controlled chaos prevails, as scattered elements come together in a cacophonous harmony with specific designs on the dance floor. Container is a centrifuge of unbridled energy, set loose on the very same instruments that prelude Techno’s designs, but converge on the borders of DIY, Punk and Noise, for something more tactile and raw. Since his debut LP, Schofield has gone on to release three more on Spectrum Spools – all simply entitled LP – and a host of EPs and cassettes on labels like Liberation Technologies (Mute), Diagonal and his own I Just Live Here cassette label. His live performances have become the stuff of mythic lore, praised for the visceral energy, coercing static dance floors into movement as non-partisan audiences are compelled forward by the sheer intensity of the music.  

“I now do the same thing I did in noise,” he explained to RA. “It’s the same approach, just a different sound.” Schofield arrived at this interpretation of Techno through an unfamiliar route. Where most artists working in the field perpetuate the rhetoric where a legacy defined by Detroit and Berlin emboldened them to a career in this music, Schofield’s history is more complex than the sum of those parts. Growing up in Providence, Rhode Island in the USA, Schofield’s music career started as “a teenager” about 15 years ago. “I started touring with bands after high school in 2003,” he recalled in an interview with Vice, “and then started focussing mostly on solo stuff in 2007.” In Providence he stepped into a “really cool” music scene, one “based on warehouse venues that change somewhat frequently due to people moving out of town, or getting kicked out of the space.” The setting provided an exciting platform for “like-minded” individuals like Schofield who would thrive in the DIY nature of these venues, which over twenty years became “very ingrained in the musical culture of the city.”

His first solo projects, Age Wave and God Willing embraced this “musical culture,” and aligned itself with the Noise scene that would naturally thrive in this kind of environment. In 2009 he started Container alongside these projects, but “for the first two years it existed, (it) wasn’t something that (he) spent a lot of time on” according to that RA interview. “Once in a while when I’d feel like doing something with beats I would work on it,” but at that time it was “not something that I was taking seriously” he told Jain Pain during an interview in 2013. He only “became more interested in Techno after  playing it for a while” and only then Container would become his “main focus.” This change in direction was inspired in part by Daniel Bell’s (DBX) track, “Losing Control.” Upon hearing the “classic minimal Techno track,” he got it in his “head to do something like that [track] just to see how it would turn out.” He knew he “had the gear to pull it off” and set about creating the same kind of “really minimal, one beat” track, layering some vocals over the top, and through imitation he established his own, more abrasive interpretation of that style of music. “That is how I got into Techno,” he told Jain Pain, but it’s not Techno in any traditional sense of the genre.

With “more and more people” from the noise scene “excited to hear heavy beat stuff rather than just noise” and with Techno’s own modulation between elements of Punk and DIY coming to the fore, Container arrived at a time when these borders would become really blurred. Alongside other American artists like Aurora Halal, Via App, and Unicorn Hard-On (aka Valerie Martino – Schofield’s inamorata), Schofield would help usher in a style of Techno  in the USA that the press eventually would coin Punk Techno. Unicorn Hard-On played a significant role in the “transition from God Willing to Container” according to the RA interview. “Towards the end of God Willing,” Schofield “was incorporating more beats and tape loops” in his music and with a rhythm taking more of a central role it “eventually, it bled into one thing” to become Container.

With Container “everything is composed with live playback in mind” according to the interview in Vice, which sets the project apart from the more traditional adaption of Techno. Container is a live project for Schofield, but at the same time it dissociates itself from the rest of the live, Noise scene as music that is fully composed rather than free improvised. His music arrives through a kind of “trial and error” approach, and by his own account is more “inspired by Rock music than Techno.” His only objective behind the music it seems is to “to play a killer live set” and that’s where that unbridled energy comes from. There are traces of it across all his records, and it’s at its most impressive when experienced in the live context. It’s here where his ideologies part ways with the Techno canon. “Live music for the techno scene seems like an afterthought in a weird way,” he clarifies to Jain Pain. “It isn’t even about playing a show; it is more about getting a party going, which I am not interested in at all.” For Schofield it’s more like a rock concert a performance of music, and ironically approaching it this way, he succeeds in bringing that “party vibe” to the situation as his 2014 Boiler Room performance can attest to.

Schofield’s unusual route towards Techno, has a unique effect on the execution of his music, and sets him apart from those that follow the more traditional route in the genre. He very rarely even listens to Techno outside of the live context, but when he does, it’s usually reserved for music that foregoes the traditional ideologies of the genre. “When I am hanging out at home and I wanna listen to Techno, my favorite thing is this band Frak.”

Like Frak, Schofield feigns the traditional approach to Techno, manipulating the genre’s  sound palette to his own destructive designs and negating the passive, functional purpose of the music for a more assertive position in the context of club music. For the past seven years he’s been refining this sound with his unique twist, and alongside his peers like Unicorn Hard-On, Container has redefined the borders between Noise, Punk, DIY and Techno. It’s music that won’t acquiesce to the homogenous common denominator, pursuing the pure counter-cultural aspects of these musical genres as it swims upstream from everything else around it.

 

*Container plays Gateavisa & Gyldne Sprekk pres: Container (US), live!

What have The Futurists ever done for us?

What have the futurists ever done for us? Well, they might have invented Techno. Ross Bicknell writes about how an early 20th century art movement might have influenced, or at least in some part inspired today’s club music.

1. No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece.

2.Time and space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed.

3.We will glorify war,.. the world’s only hygiene.

4.Destroy the museums, fight moralism, feminism, ..utilitarian cowardice.

5.Sing the vibrant nightly fervour of arsenals and shipyards blazing, bridges that stride the rivers like giant gymnasts, flashing in the sun with a glitter of knives.

These are a few choice slices from the 11 point manifesto of The Futurists, an Italian art cultural movement lead by Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. These excerpts were printed on the front page of a popular French newspaper, Le Figaro in 1909 and caused a bit of a stir. They barely even printed political party manifestos back then, let alone the ramblings of artists, so this might point towards what a big deal they were considered to be.

Marinetti & the Futurists flirted with Fascism. He was ideologically opposed to the Marxist idea of class struggle and was elected to the Fascist party’s Central Committee in 1919 after Italy’s disastrous and humiliating part in WW1 representing the Allies. Mussolini had a great admiration for Futurism and Futurists paid him back by engaging in propaganda and violence in his name.

So why discuss these fascistic, war hungry rent-a-mob? What have they ever done for us, and what have they got to do with electronic music as we know it?

It’s because their belief in and celebration of mechanised society e.g. boats, trains, plains, modern agriculture, motorways, telephones and the city being a force for positive change. The Futurists believed that these trappings were a force for speeding up time and signalling a new, more desirable consciousness that did away with the ‘pensive immobility, ecstasy and sleep’ of previous generations and their literature and art. Instead they intended to ‘exalt aggressive action, a feverish insomnia, the racers stride,.. the punch and slap’. I think they got their way and very tiring it is too being part of it all. (I’m old now). Ok it’s exciting too. The undoubtable celebration of speed, volume and power as progress in society throughout the 20th century has its many echoes in arts, music and culture, from 5.1 cinema sound-systems allowing an attack helicopter’s missile to whizz about the room and detonate at the base of your spine, to electric guitar solos crackling through a speaker stack hanging from a 200 metre high scaffolding in a mega-arena, to industrial samples and distorted Hoover bass lines shaking the floor of nightclubs across the world and being simultaneously broadcast onto millions of pocket digital devices.

We can take the pre-internet days of the early 1990s as the land before time sped up exponentially, it had an impact rather like the effect of the monolith in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 and pretty much the same year (woah…) The Industrial revolution, especially trains, had the same seismic effect. Futurists sought to celebrate a move beyond art being about communities loosely based around farming, so to keep up basically.  Such ye olde existences have been celebrated/revisited by various art/music movements (think Dylan, folk revival, ambient, minimalism) in a distinctly non-futurist manner throughout the 20th century in music. It took a while for the musos to catch up. The idea of the past as slower, more spiritual, humane place or time still underpins many a political belief or music preference. William Blake’s Dark Satanic Mills referred to an almost Mordor-like future brought about by industrial destruction of the past/nature. Plagues, volcanoes, floods, cats and dogs living together, you know the score. Biblical shit.

These have all come to fruition in our collective consciousness in the 20th century, as has the Futurist’s wish/premonition of mechanised war. The relatively fragile human body in which we are still irritatingly encased (for some, take note 2046 transhumanists, the super-rich wannabe cyborg immortals. https://youtu.be/vqkddbl1HCY) has had a fair few knocks in this period and been subjected to the horror machines can elicit. The Futurists were well up for this and it seems humans have an increased need to engage in this dance with the machines that can seriously fuck them up but also I guess make things work well with central heating and stuff.

So let’s get back to the question, what have the Futurists ever done for us?

Erm, they channelled the excitement of the times? Ok, ok, yes, yes, I suppose I can’t argue with that. But what else?

Erm.. One may argue that they invented the aesthetic of what was to become the future? Ok clever clogs, I accept that this may be partly true in an ideological sense, but in pure aesthetic terms it would have to be shared in no small part by writers of popular science fiction and their book cover designers. Ha.

They invented the future, period. Erm, you’ve lost me, but perhaps in terms of music you might have a point… But what have the futurists ever really done for us? They invented Techno? Oh right, yeah that is pretty good.

In his piece, The Art Of Noises: Futurist manifesto (1913), Luigi Russolo concludes that futurist musicians should substitute for the limited variety of timbres that the orchestra possess, the infinite variety of timbres in noises, reproduced with appropriate mechanisms. He identifies 6 families of noises. Among these are crashes/thunderings, whistling/hissing, murmurs/whispers, screeching/creaking, bangs on metal/wood, voices/shouts/noises of animals and people. He sees this as an antidote to orchestral music. ‘Do you know of a more ridiculous site than that of 20 men striving to redouble the mullings of a violin?,..let us drink in, from beat to beat, these few qualities of obvious tedium, of monotonous impressions and cretinous religious emotion of the Buddhalike listeners, drunk with repeating for the thousandth time their more or less acquired and snobbish ecstasy. Away!’ So it’s fair to say he wasn’t a fan of classical music.

To be honest the idea of working mechanisation into music was a not a huge leap of the human imagination (if such a thing is ever actually possible, discuss). It was underway in other artworks, but nobody had done it, or at least written about doing it, in 1913. He created an instrument to demonstrate how it would come into use, a mechanised noise box, which used sounds of industry and those mentioned above to create musical works. It was about the abandonment of the 12 note scale completely and the pursuit of a music which featured the organisation of different timbres above all else (sound like anything we’ve heard?) These timbres were evocative of the industrial age, and a brand new future, as digital blips, beeps, shash and industrial sounds were to evoke the coming age of the technosphere for techno artists. There are few surviving recordings of this machine sadly but musicians who it has been claimed are directly inspired include Pierre Schaeffer and other Musique concrete artists, and also Stockhausen. The lineage is also clear to see throughout the 1900s as John Cage questions what constitutes music still further by releasing ‘4.33’ and leads into the minimalists Steve Reich and Philip Glass et al. Their stripped down build the house brick by brick/take it down again musical experiments and works contain blueprints for electronic music as we know it. Fast forward a few decades and you can hear their influence in Derek May’s Strings of Life from 1998, Orbital’s Kein Trink Wasser (1994) and many others.  

In my mind the most intense characterisation of the Futurist’s overall ideological aesthetic thrust is techno, which came into being in the 80s in Detroit (via Germany and New York also). A key figure and member of one of Techno’s founding labels Underground Resistance, Jeff Mills, has explicitly said that it was meant to be a futurist statement. Techno differs from the fascinations of Industrial music, in that the futurist philosophical standpoint is highlighted. Also the commitment to Russolo’s and the Futurist’s wider ideas like the romance of speed and mechanised violence seems more absolute. Techno was an unspoken decision, a manifesto if you will, with disciplines and rules that must be broken as well as those that must be kept to. Either inadvertently or directly, the reference to the futurists is unavoidable. Jeff Mills in fact cites Alvin Toffler’s book, The 3rd Wave, a futurist treatise from 1980, by which time futurism was a genre or a thing, and much had been published in connection with the term. Toffler describes a high-speed revolution, much like the Italian Futurists did, but he describes the subsequent one, which I guess we can call the digital revolution. In Toffler’s preface he wishes to make clear that he does not wish to dwell on the costs of change, but emphasises the costs of not changing. His previous book Future Shock focuses on the former. Tellingly Techno chose to cite the latter perspective. I’m afraid that’s it for references to the book Jeff Mills actually cited. Complain all you like, I don’t care, that’s it, final. I’m sticking to the Italians.

So is techno a true futurist statement? And what does that mean? Pure techno’s seminal tracks share playful experimentation with a commitment to a sparse, driving, industrial aesthetic which restricts itself to infinitesimal change alongside a framework of a constant musical trope. This is the high-energy kick drum/hi-hat combo, which categorises a large degree of dance music. It requires a certain level of commitment to listen/dance to when at the speeds featured in techno (usually around 127-140 bpm) and with its mechanised timbre. It asks listeners to embrace the energy and come along for the ride, rewarding with the satisfaction of noting the episodic or gradual affectation of the synth/sample/beat/percussion elements that circle around its central structure. The high pace seems to remove the desire to look back at what has just been, as there is rarely a chance to do so, the experience being pretty intense. You are being urged forward and it is taking energy to stay focused and inside the box, a bit like a sport. If you do keep up with every mini event and stay for the increasingly frequent culminations of events and energy, then a feeling of cerebral and corporeal oneness with this hyped energy is one of your rewards. At the heart of techno (if thy tin man hath a heart..?) I see an indifference to and thus a rejection of, well what,..hmmm, I’ll have a go.. 1. Melody = soul. 2. Chord structure = romance and 3. Pining lyricism = individualism. In this re-prioritising of the sanctity of the individual in the musical experiences involving techno lays some parallels with the Futurist’s train of thought. Mechanical brutality is romanticised (ironically) as bodily fragility is scorned and cast aside, a member of the collective can suffer and die.

And there are some literal interpretations too: Marinetti for instance even has a rant about being in a car and how damn sexy it is to nearly die as it crashes into a ditch. ‘Maternal ditch, almost full of muddy water! Fair factory drain! I gulped down your nourishing sludge..’ Ha ha. It’s easy to laugh, and I hope you do… but I don’t remember laughing much reading JG Ballard’s 1973 update on the theme Crash, with the pokey early 1900s language replaced by cold psychosexual prose fusing arousal, death and violent injury together in a tempestuous and seductive gridlock of depravity. Ballard narrated futurisms with an eye colder than that of the Futurists; the dispassionate observer nevertheless needed a whiskey every hour, on the hour to hone a numbed effect enabling him to write it. He had lived through WW2; the Futurists hadn’t, by the time the manifesto came out anyway.

Gary Numan managed to have a bit more fun with the same subject matter in his techno-pop smash-hit, Cars (1979). You can hear the echoes of Ballard and thus Marinetti in recent releases such as those by many EBM artists, Silent Servant and Broken English Club’s ‘Wreck’. It’s safe to say that unlike ‘Cars’ this will not be a pop smash hit. There’s a video for this song which features disaster-porn like footage of the coralised remains of the Titanic which itself was a Futurist’s wet dream. You can indeed see that it is very wet, but more like a nightmare, mischievously glamorised by the saturated neon pink and yellow filters that have been applied with sloppy, liberal glee…

 

To be continued

Eight hours of progwave with Jono El Grande

Progwave was an elusive subgenre, an unusual hybrid of progressive rock and New Wave that is little more than a sidebar in the popular music lexicon. Very little has ever been documented about this strange concoction of a genre, and I couldn’t tell you which bands were active during  what era and what exactly constitutes the genre, so we had to call in an expert.

Jono El Grande (Jon Andreas Håtun) lives and breathes all things music and when it comes to Prog Rock he is an authority. He is an artist, musician and conductor, and has released six LPs between 1999 and the present with his group Jono El Grande and his luxury band.

Born in the era of peak Prog Rock, a conceptual theme follows Jono El Grande in every thing he approaches and when he and Eirik Usterud (Beatie Joyce) came together to conceive a night for Den Gyldne Sprekk in April, true to history a theme followed. They fell on progwave (or progveiv) and while Beastie Joyce gave us some insight into the genre last week on the blog, there is still much left to be uncovered of this very niche genre.

While Eirik was a little unsure if he’d have enough music in that category for the entire, Jono told us “till now, I have collected about 8 hours of music,” encouraging us to ask the Norwegian artist more questions. What is progwave, who made it and where did it go? We pose these questions to Jono El Grande ahead of Progveiv this Tuesday at Den Gyldne Sprekk.

How would you describe progwave?

Prog-wave makes a fine line with different approaches, all around late 70’s to early 80’s; you have progressive bands toying with new wave on one side, and new-wave bands touching progressive/experimental structures and sounds on the other. A third path, the most unclear, is rock / semi-progressive artists in free artistic flow who happened to create something within the same style, all on purpose or accidentally, I don’t know.

Typical of the first batch, I say, is the around-1980-stuff by bands like Camel, Alan Parsons Project, Yes, Gentle Giant, King Crimson, Rush, CAN and Jethro Tull.

The second, is represented by some songs – not entire albums – by bands like DEVO, Yello, Art Of Noise, Godley & Creme, Kraftwerk, The Stranglers, Pere Ubu, Talking Heads and Wall Of Voodoo.

In the third understanding, you also find just a few songs, from artists such as ELO, 10cc, Roxy Music, Jefferson Starship, Toto, Peter Gabriel, Manfred Manns’s Earth Band, David Bowie and Violent Femmes.

And in between all these, I may squeeze in some Arthur Brown, Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa. And even some of my own, brand new unheard compositions.

What do you think encouraged artists to explore this field  of music, was just the advent of affordable synthesizers?

In my opinion, music genres evolve somewhat like species according to Darwin; they’re born as a result of a movement in society – small or big – and tend to survive if the culture around it is alive and growing. First it is revolutionary, then it becomes tradition. In this movement Sub genres are often dependent on the main genre’s growth, unless they creates their own (fan) culture and evolve further on as a separate genre.

New technology meeting culture is always a factor for growth, and synthesizers became essential for the rise progwave, I think, yes. But it was also important that the bands were forced by their record companies to be more accessible towards a larger audience, which also evolved the genre.

Why was it so short-lived?

Prog wave was merely just a sub genre, probably more a bastard – a hybrid of prog and new wave – like a mule. And as we know, mules can’t reproduce. Later, a few bands evolved into pop, like Genesis, but those bands didn’t survive artistically for long either.

At the same time, the main prog genre was evolving into the ugly, yet vital, Neo prog, eating prog wave out of existence.

Also, it seemed that krautrock was more naturally evolving into quite the same sound as prog wave, yet it was surviving more or less by being krautrock.

You say brand new unheard compositions of your own earlier And I’ve noticed artists like Shackleton making progressive music from electronic club elements today. Is it having a revival?

Maybe, but music and artists making music in every genre or subgenre has become overflowing and swarming like a goddamn huge colony of bees. Who can tell if there is a new movement going on in there or just a flicker?

Anyway – I will personally break a sweat to conjure up a revival, and play some new compositions of my own. One of them is so fresh it is still warm.

Can you tell me something of your history with the music, and what were some of the records or artists that first got you into progwave?

First of all, progressive rock and avantgarde has interested me since I discovered it when I was 13 (1986); Zappa & early eras of Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, Genesis – some years later King Crimson, Gentle Giant, Beefheart.

I realized soon that the whole catalogue of these artists and others in the same genre was not accepted at parties, so I always tried to make mix tapes with the stuff that in a way unified the progressive heads and the more mainstream rock and pop listeners in the late 80’s and early 90’s.

Over the years, I see that ‘prog wave’ as a term that pigeonholed this kind of music well, even though some of the songs that I put in that box is not part of the particular prog wave «movement» in the late 70s/early 80s.

I still enjoy sneaking my own playlists into bars or restaurants (St Lars has one of them).

As you see, there wasn’t any album that got me into progwave, it has just evolved from my natural way of socializing with music.

On the other hand, I believe that the first record to be released that may fit best into the progwave classification, is Alan Parsons Project’s «I Robot» from 1977.

When I spoke Eirik about what he’ll be playing it, he suggested that you might not be able to make a whole evening out of progwave alone. Are you of the same opinion and where do you think your set will modulate to on the evening?

For this evening, I have collected about 8 hours of music – some pure progwave, some no wave, some newwave-ish prog, some prog-ish new wave and some songs that are just damn good.

A lot of prog music artists actually had a lot of success with pop music after prog rock became something of a dirty word especially after the rise of Punk. Is that as a direct result of progwave?

A result of selling out, and dying a slow death afterwards. Progwave may have functioned as an accidental stepping stone for that process, for some of the bands.

And do you see any other strands of the genre exists today because of that fleeting existence?

If so, it has changed so much over the years you may not be able to recognize it. Bands today are influenced by so many sources, so it is hard to specify.

And some artists sound like they are influenced without knowing it. A contemporary group like Superorganism, may sound like a millennial version of prog wave, but I doubt they have ever thought about that.

(I remember music journalists around the world wrote about my Magma influences on my album Neo Dada (which celebrates 10 years these days), and actually – that was how I discovered them. Haha.)

 

*You can find out more about Jono El Grande on his website, jonoelgrande.com.

 

 

Random consistency: Profile on Axel Boman

Random consistency seems to be Axel Boman’s calling card. The Swedish producer and DJ has had a colourful musical career, one that has seen him touch on elements encompassing the widest spectrum of musical influences from American Soul to European House, channeled in an autocratic musical taste that span his DJ sets, productions and the label he runs with Kornél Kóvacs and Petter Nordkvist. With a flippant, jocular approach to music, Axel Boman continues to skirt the fringes of House music with affable productions and sets that communicate a sincere, serious musical talent.

Although Axel Boman had released his first records back in 2008 through a brief tenure with the little known label Ourvision, it was “Holy Love” released on DJ Koze’s Pampa Recordings and especially the track “Purple Drank” that established Axel Boman’s musical career. The release came about in true Boman fashion when “he gave DJ Koze a demo at a post-show party before puking out of the hotel window” according to a Red Bull Music Academy interview.   

It was quickly picked up by the music media, launching the Axel Boman name into popular consciousness. “From the dubby breakdown to the long arc of the whole track, it’s a trip, and surprisingly forceful given its soft sounds and slow tempo,” wrote Philip Sherburne for Resident Advisor in his 4.0 out 5 review of this release at the time. Boman’s deep, but energetic inclinations struck a chord with DJs, but it would be his distinct love of melodies that would eventually make him a crossover success.

Axel Boman has divulged little in the past about his early life, besides that maybe his father was a plumber, and that the Orb’s Little fluffy clouds was “essential” listening growing up, but it is common knowledge that a budding career in music became apparent during his art academy days in Gothenburg. “It was just a good ground to try stuff out,” Boman told EBTV in an interview. The five years masters program was just a little surreal. It comprised of a studio where Boman could indulge his wildest creative fancies and required little more than a monthly check-in with a supervisor. The only premise was that he create something and with music constituting some of his creative endeavours at that time, he was constantly experimenting with this discipline during his academic years. “It was just weird and fun” remembers Boman about those early pieces, and something of that element of fun followed Boman’s into his professional career.

“(B)ut I don’t want it to seem that I’m not serious, because I’m totally devoted,” he told DJ Mag interview in 2014. Although he approaches music with a self-effacing tongue in cheek  fashion, there’s nothing absurd about the results. And that extends to the label, Studio Barnhus too. “People are always looking for some twist, or a hidden prank,” he told Red Bull Music Academy. “Sometimes people label us as being funny or prankish, but we’re totally serious: We love this music! We don’t devote that much time and effort towards elaborate jokes.” The label started in 2010 out of a small studio in Stockholm with Nordkvist and Kóvacs. “The initial motivation was just to release some great songs,” he told the Mancunian and with early releases extending out from the inner circle to kindred spirits like HNNY and Jesper Dahlbäck, the label quickly started “growing by itself” to the position it occupies today as one of the most sought after House labels in Europe, with some exceptional examples of  Axel Boman’s own productions. 

Starting from the middle and working outwards, Boman’s tracks have an integral accessibility with definitive melodic- or vocal hooks giving his House constructions an approachable and self-possessed voice. “Most tracks have an essence then you build around it,” he told Resident Advisor in 2013. Entrancing melodies have always been a vital aspect to his music. “I’m just a sucker for melodies” he told EBTV, and in a Ransom Note interview he divulged that he thinks this  “works to my advantage, because whereas some people are always looking for the hook that fits a track I can just experiment with different samples and ideas until something clicks.”

In 2013 this all found its rightful place on the album format as he released his debut and only LP under his given name. “Family Vacation” was constructed around an abstract idea, taken from a fictional story written by a friend. “It’s a murder mystery, in a way,” Boman explained in RBMA with a fictional tome written around the infamous, real-life murder of the soul singer, Sam Cooke.

Family Vacation proved an artist that can go beyond floor and the perfunctory beat. “Not a lot of tracks for me have to start with a kick” he explained in RA about the making of the album. “Did you care about the dance floor when you were writing the album?” asked RA’s Kristan Caryl. “I tried to, always, but I’m bad at it and if I do it I get a wave of self-hate. I can set my mind on doing some techno, pumping 4/4, but I always end up somewhere completely different.” Axel Boman’s extensive musical palette has always played a role in his music, and he’s always displayed an innate ability to feed some accessible pop element into his very serious dance floor music.

It’s something that other Swedish artists like Varg also emulate, but whether that’s a Swedish thing or just the open-ended listening habits in the era of the internet is something up for debate, but it’s clear that Boman has never been one to confine his music to one small area in the vast expanse of modern music history. At the end of Family Vacation, Boman came to the conclusion in a DJ Mag Interview that; “I needed to have some closure with this computer and this hard drive and all these gadgets that I’ve been working on so long, so they kind of helped me to reach that point. Now I’m ready to throw that out the window and start all over with the guitar.”


Since then he’s split his efforts between many side projects like the John Talabot collaboration, Talaboman and Man Tear, a post-pop project he does with label mate Petter Nordkvist. Man Tear is Boman and Nordkvist indulging their pop sensibilities with the sonic template of House music. Boman’s desire to work outside if the club music cannon and flex “different muscles in the brain” sees him constantly experimenting with different elements in music and according to his EBTV interview that activity is only set to increase in the future.   

“I listen to lots of music so get lots of inspiration,” he told RBMA, and in the very same breath he also explained that all his music is “always” focussed on the club floor. The trajectory might not always correspond to the initial idea but the purpose of his music is always to get people dancing and from his various musical projects, his LP to his EPs and singles, it’s that unflinching consistency that makes Axel Boman’s work such a favourite on various dance floors, even if the results are often quite random

*Axel Boman plays Frædag this week with Strangefruit, g-HA & Olasnkii and Olefonken.

Emerge with Espen T. Hangård

* All Photos by Carsten Aniksdal

Espen T. Hangård’s greying beard; the indented lines that cross his forehead; and his voice, spoken with the measured gravitas that only life-experience can bring, suggests he might be a veteran of his craft, but he’s not. Even though he’s been working in music for the best part of his life, he only made his debut  as an electronic music artist in 2018. Releasing two LP’s in quick succession in Primær and Elementær, accompanied by a string of live performances around Norway, Espen went from relative obscurity to the darling of the DIY electronic music scene over the course of the last year. His, razor-sharp productions, which lie somewhere between the electronic pop formations of Kraftwerk and the Braindance excursions of Aphex Twin, was an instant hit across the Electro community. Espen’s distinctive approach, which offered a perspective on Electro in contrast to the ubiquitous DJ’s point of view, relayed an innocent charm that counterpointed the perfunctory elements which have been dominating electronic club music since Drexciya.

“When I started I wasn’t trying to release anything,” explains Espen when get the chance to sit down for an Interview, “I just wanted to make the stuff I wanted to make.” I had heard and wrote about both Primær and Elementær when they were released and something about Espen’s sound had immediately intrigued me. There was no pre-emptive focus on the dance floor and the song structures followed very similar to structures usually found in pop/rock music. When I heard him play live for the first time, I had found an electronic music artist bucking the DJ-cum-producer trend with a sincere nod to the past, and something completely unique to what anybody else is doing at the moment in Electro. Espen immediately stood out amongst the crowd, as he completely avoided those entrenched tropes, in some part emboldened by his unique musical history.  

Espen was “born in the seventies and grew up in the eighties” in Tonsberg and his first contact with music was through Heavy Metal and bands like Kiss and Iron Maiden and not Hip Hop as the usual DJ rhetoric would predict. At the same time however, he was also “exposed to the electronic pop music” of the nineteen eighties with chart topping singles by Madonna, New order and Depeche Mode, informing his early musical tastes. While most teenagers of the eighties were engaged with some peer pursuit and music was segregated either as the “dirty, unkempt” crowd of a Heavy Metal inclination or the “feminine” synth pop of the new romantics, Espen chose a very different route and absorbed everything he could when it comes to music. “I never thought that I had to distance myself from anything I liked before,” explains Espen, “I was always just listening to anything.”

By the age of 14 he had picked up the guitar and enamoured by the “new and exciting” sound of Thrash- and Death Metal he started his first band, Noplacetohide, followed by side projects like Altaar and KILLL. Noplacetohide had an impressive sixteen year run as a prominent fixture in the Norwegian Rock- and Metal scene, and they released two albums during the height of popularity for Norwegian metal. Throughout it all however Espen never lost touch with those early electronic influences .

Groups like Nitzer Ebb and Depeche Mode marked that crossover point between Espen’s Metal- and electronic indulgences. Espen attests; “the aggression of Nitzer Ebb probably has more of an appeal for people who are into rock music.” It was bands like Nitzer Ebb, Depeche mode “and the “Mute kind of stuff” that first drew Espen to the possibilities of drum machines and synthesisers. “The first big show I saw was Depeche Mode and Nitzer ebb in 1988,” recalls Espen. “Nitzer Ebb was a radical thing and they were just playing a backing track and a metal percussion thing, it was very stripped down and minimalist.” By the mid nineties, Espen’s musical interests had extended to the Warp family, with “Aphex Twin, Squarepusher and Autechre” piqueing his interests, “but it took many many years after that before I started making my own electronic music,” he admits.

By the late nineties, however he had bought a soundcard and managed to get his hands on cracked copy of Cubase, merely as a “sketching tool for writing music” for his many bands. “I didn’t really get into it that much,” recounts Espen and it took another ten years after that before the “ball started rolling with making electronic music at home.” Outboard synthesizers and drum machines followed and it all culminated in an intense recording period between 2009 and 2012.

“I was not thinking this was going to be released initially,” says Espen. “I was just trying to emulate the music that I thought was cool, and learning the craft.” He quickly found he had an affinity for the machines and “after a few years” Espen had amassed a “pile of tracks” that he thought “were good enough to release.” It conspired around a dialogue with the label Galleberg Forelag and by 2018 the first batch of tracks came out as Primær, which was almost immediately succeeded by Elementær.

“The first tracks on these albums were from 2009,” says Espen, “three months from when I started making this kind of music.” After recording those first pieces in that three year period, Espen “made the decision to finish all the tracks no matter how hopeless they were” to the point that if he “were to play them to a friend,” he could play it “without any hesitation”. Working quickly through all the tracks he eventually had enough for two LPs and decided to split the tracks up into two distinctive records. “I could have arranged the tracks so that the two albums would have sounded very similar,” explains Espen, “but I chose to put the slightly more linear tracks on the first one, and the more elaborate, melodic tracks on the second one.” Espen believes it gave each record a “different temper” from the other, but close enough to relay a very unique sound across the two records that sets Espen’s music apart from the contemporary electronic music landscape.

How did he have to change his approach in music going from guitars and vocals to synthesisers and drum machines? “You have to think completely differently about music and how you produce it,” he explains. At the time, Espen had felt that his guitar playing had “hit a dead end” and turning to synthesisers, drum machines and grooveboxes felt “very liberating.” Espen had found new inspiration in old machines and their “old backwards interfaces.” He utilises these machines and archaic interfaces in a way that harks back to the likes of groups like Nitzer Ebb and Depeche Mode, where song structure and melodic themes impart a more accessible listening experience in his music, something which becomes apparent when you experience Espen T. Hangård in the live setting. At a recent show at Kafé Hærverk I was taken aback by Espen’s live set. In a scene dominated by the DJ-producer characters, where live sets often feature the same sinuous thread that spans a DJ set, Espen’s performance stood out. Built around the very same song structures on the records, he would play each piece as its own song, often stopping the drum machine, loading up a new project and setting forth from there like a band would through their setlist.

“I’m used to performing in bands so I’m used to music being live,” says Espen. “Also from the audience’s perspective doing a laptop set is perfectly cool, and playing records is perfectly cool, but to me I get something more out of it if the music is to a certain degree created in the moment.” The way he plays live is a “nerdy thing” for Espen and it’s probably something that has migrated to electronic music from his “rock orientation.” He’s not very “good with repetition” and is constantly in need of ”something to happen, to have a break and have something else come in.” This is what sets Espen’s live performance, and by association his music, apart from the rest of the artists working in his field. It is something that also carries through on his artwork for his first two LP’s where the usual retro computer graphics and robot themes, are supplanted for something that flows more organically across the collages made by Canadian artist Tag Andersson. It’s “very abstract,” feels Espen, “but they have a very clear feeling to them” and he still feels that eighties reference resonates through Andersson’s post-modernist design elements underpinning the work.

It’s unclear whether the aesthetic will follow through in Espen’s future works, and in musical terms he feels that he is “done with that period now.” He’s moved on to recording sessions from 2016, and while he hints that his vocal might be making more of a contribution, there is “nothing concrete” that has formulated yet from these recording sessions. There are also pieces dating back to 2013 as well as “one or two metal projects that I want to realise.” He’s main group Altaar are still  together even through they’ve been on hiatus for a while and whenever he can, Espen will be trying to work on music in one form or other. He’s recently contributed a “shouty” remix of a new Blitzkrieg Baby release destined for Aufnahme + Wiedergabe, but beyond that there is nothing primed for release.

He has however just released two full LP’s in very close succession and if that’s an indication of the kind of creative enterprise of the artist there is surely going to be more from him, very soon. As an electronic music artist he might be what the press would call an emerging artist, which is funny considering he’s already had a full career as a musician and artist, but in electronic music he’s certainly found a new voice, one that looks set to emerge, as a singular contribution to a choir of voices in this field.

 

* Follow Espen T. Hangård on Twitter, Instagram and Soundcloud.

The cut with Filter Musikk

Think about the DJ, and the first image that comes to mind is somebody hunched over a pair of turntables. Even today, in light of CDJs and DJ software, when television or films need to portray the DJ in the correct context, a pair of Technics 1200s will almost always be in the foreground of the shot. The turntable and the record is an iconic image today, one that carries so many subjective associations with the DJ that record culture and DJ culture are completely interchangeable today. But they’re not.  What people have experienced in recent years as an increased interest in the vinyl format and thus record culture through physical sales, is actually the rise in sales of classic LPs, re-issued by big labels. New pressings of classic albums by the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin don’t subsume record culture nor does it have any relationship to DJ culture who’s calling card has always been the 12” single.

On the other end of the scale DJ culture is also necessarily record culture either. As Øyvind Morken so eloquently put in a recent piece he contributed to this blog: “There are loads of people who are into music, but they are not into record culture. Producers still release music on vinyl rather than digitally, even though they don’t buy records themself. They are not contributing to record culture, they are merely taking advantage of it for their own personal gain.” Emerging labels and up and coming producer-DJs are relying on that very same iconic image of the DJ with his/her two turntables when few of them even play records or in some extreme cases even own a record. They saturate record culture with the kind of music that should be reserved for the consumerist DJ culture online, releases that leave little to be desired beyond the trend-informed obvious.

There are those places however where DJ culture and record culture converge. These places are becoming rare, but they’ve wavered little from their origins. There are those DJs and institutions that have always perpetuated the 12” single vinyl format, even during a period where it went through a great slump. Even though DJ culture would emerge as a popular culture during this period, record culture would suffer at the hand of digital music technologies, but there were always a dedicated few perpetuating the 12” format and record culture as DJs; places like Hardwax in Berlin, Rush Hour in Amsterdam and Filter Musikk here in Oslo.

People like Roland Lifjell at Filter Musikk have dedicate their entire lives to the format and today, as record culture is being infiltrated by a new kind of insincere capitalist, they remain the bastion and the sanctuary for the ardent records, DJs and listeners that bridge that narrow gap between record culture and DJ culture. It’s people like Roland Lijell and his shop Filter Musikk that continues to pursue the same ideologies that turned the DJ behind a set of decks into an icon by distributing those records, labels and artists that still uphold that legacy. Here are some of the latest arrivals that perpetuate the sentiment. This is the Cut with Filter Musikk.

 

Luigi Tozzi – Tender Is The Night (Non Series) 12″

A great deal of noise has infiltrated Techno over the last 5 years. Crunching, distorted kick drums pounding their way into oblivion through a bedrock of white noise are currently soundtracking early mornings in vacuous warehouse spaces across the globe. While that kind of thing certainly has its appeal, at times you just need to take a step back and breathe for a second. You need the counterpoint, a deeper, minimal, progressive sound and nobody does that sound better than the Italians. The likes of Dozzy Donato, Lucy, and Luigi Tozzi have excavated a deep, spatial vacuum in Techno for many years, offering an interpretation of the genre that relies on something a little more cognitive than the immediate threat.   

After perpetuating this sound over a fair few records, mostly for Hypnus Records, Luigi Tozzi brings his music to Manuel Anõs’ (Psyk) Non-Series. Luigi Tozzi’s spatial awareness in his productions prevails with four cuts that lie on the border between ambient and Techno. Microtonal, synthetic droplets bounce between delays and reverberations as they float on breezy pads, rolling over the cascading percussive rhythms. There’s a very progressive nature to his music, especially on a track like “Black Market” where the rhythm section is unwavering in the languid atmospheres floating in the hemisphere above it. Luigi Tozzi has perfected his sound by now, so he’s breaking very little new ground on “Tender is the night,” but as it migrates onto Non-Series, it’s spreading the gospel of that Deep Tech Italian sound further into the world.

 

Tarjei Nygård – Lost In Lindos (ESP Institute) 12″

Bergen producer, Tarjei Nygård returns to the Californian imprint, ESP institute for “Lost in Lindos”. The four-track EP finds itself somewhere between Deep House and the Balearic isle as samples and synthesisers conspire on the fringes of the dance floor for this release.

There’s an expressive charm to Nygård’s records where you can discern that all-encompassing nature of Norwegian DJ/producer culture, but it’s never defined by it. For the majority of the EP, Nygård creates a path towards the dance floor with three cuts erring on the side of caution at downtempo rhythms and deep, progressive melodic phrases.

From the Trance synth work on “Forus Echo” to the bubbling synth and talking drum of the title track to the jangly melody and deep bass of “Bleusa”, Nygård merges a wide spectrum of musical references at some subconscious level in unique musical pieces, but that’s not where this record is at its best, believe it or not.

It’s the ambient beauty of “Øllie” that really steals the show on ”Lost in Lidos.” Ten minutes of  tranquil strumming guitars and processed field recordings swirling around the stereo field envelopes the listener in a warm, sonic embrace. Seemingly going nowhere, elements converge and float apart, making brief contact through the track that moves through it temporal line like a living organism.

 

Frak – Berga Magic EP (Hypercolour) 12″

Björft’s Jan Svensson and his group Frak have been doing this kind of music since the 1980’s and yet somehow they still manage to bring something unique to the landscape with every record they bring out. Although most of the group’s output is reserved for Björft records, they often moonlight on similar labels, and this, latest release finds them on Hypercolour.

Frak’s DIY Punk, Techno aesthetic has wavered little from those first tapes, but they’ll often modulate between different aspects of this sound, between Electro, synthwave, EBM and Techno as they coax abstract noise from determined machines.

On “Berga Magic” they veer very little from the consistency of Techno’s four-four insistence, but bring a little of that eighties black magic along with them as gated snares, bouncing-ball toms, and fuzzy bass lines converge across these four tracks.They bide their time, settling into each loop and letting it linger with little to no development around the very strict rudimentary foundation that makes up each track.

Frak rely on a mere few bold elements that make their mark immediately and veer little from those crucial elements, only adding noise or the much needed break to colour the stoic progression, leaving enough blank canvas for the DJ who needs to manipulate it in- and out of the next track.

 

DJ Di’jital – Electrohop1 (TRUST) 12″

TRUST records seem to come with their own money-back guarantee. We have yet to find a TRUST record we haven’t liked and now with the addition of Detroit legend DJ Di’jital contributing to the discography, this record is a no-brainer.

In America, the associations between Electro and Hip Hop have always been more fluid than in Europe, where although its ancestors are the very same that inspired artists like Afrika Bambaataa and Egyptian Lover, the contemporary results are always more likely to align themselves with Techno rather than Hip Hop.

DJ Di’jital crosses the boundary  for TRUST on “Electrohop1” playing between samples and synthesis and switching quickly between phrases in his tracks, like a scratch DJ would. Tracks, barely breaking the four-minute mark, make succinct, immediate impressions with DJ Di’jital training all his focus on the beat. Pieces like “808 Kits” and “Jlt to this” are DJ tools in many respects, almost like the producer was purposely making a record to be sampled by emerging Hip Hop producers.

“Input Main”, “Gamma Radiation,”  and “Entity (The Getdown)” make the biggest impression with vocoders, sawtooth waves, swinging beats and song structures leaving a tantalising thread to the origins of Electro.

 

Inigo Kennedy – Trajectory (Token) 12″

Inigo Kennedy’s music indulges much the same sonic identity as his DJ sets, where more is indeed more. Plying layer upon layer in his sets, he’s one of the few DJs we’ve witnessed actually using four decks simultaneously and the music he constructs, mostly for Token follows the same premise.

Extensive layers on “Trajectory” bathes the record in a kind of murky hue punctuated by explosive kick drums and chattering hi-hats through the opening title track towards “Turmoil” on the B2 cut. The aggressive onslaught of the percussion section is subdued by languid pads that cast a visceral light on the individual tracks as the concurrent theme of this release.

Kennedy’s melodic phrasing lays a path of crumbs towards something slightly more emotive beyond the immediacy of the thunderous pounding of kick drums. It’s refreshing to hear a Techno producer of Kennedy’s calibre adding more depth, and a melodic component to the genre, contrasting the stark, barren treatment of Techno that has prevailed for the longest time.

 

The wrong record at the right time by Øyvind Morken

Untzdag resident Øyvind Morken discusses the allure of certain unusual records, that when played at the right time can have very significant effects on the dance floor.

I’ve been a resident at Jæger for the past seven years. Coming in every week I have to keep it interesting for myself and I’m pretty sure that if you’ve been recording me since the beginning, you wouldn’t hear me playing the same kind of set twice. I’m always bringing new music and the best parties I’ve had at Jaeger are the ones I’ve played all night and could dictate the evening through several tempos and moods; that’s the nice thing about playing a residency, you can develop it in a way that’s personal to you. I didn’t force this in any way, it’s the way I am, and the way I am is the way we all are, eclectic. My record bag reflects this too, and although I always have to carry those records that if I know I’m struggling I can play those records, and I’ll be fine, I’ve never been interested in those. I’m more interested in the records that you have to fit a whole set around. These are the records that might not naturally work at any point during the course of a night, or you really have to tailor them to make them fit. These are the wrong records at the right time.

The wrong speed

It’s something that has interested me since I started playing records at the wrong speed. At the flick of a switch on your record player, you can drop a record down an octave or two in pitch and play it at about three quarters of its original speed. I remember starting to do this in the early 2000’s and I thought I was a genius, because I thought nobody had done this before. But then I read about Fat Ronny, Beppe Loda, Baldelli and Mozart – All these guys were doing this since the late seventies and early eighties, and it was nothing new. DJs have been doing this since the invention of the variable pitch record player, but it’s still something of a lost art in the era of CD players. By virtue of the modern DJ CD Player, DJing now is very tempo-based, with the beats per minute constantly displayed on the bright luminous LCD screen. It’s incredibly hard to ignore. The way I grew up Djing, it was based on the inherent musical quality of the record rather than tempo so I have to think; How can I find a way to bring all this music into a set.

Take André Bratten’s Un Pax / Americana for instance, which plays at 140BPM. I play that it at the wrong tempo around 105 -110BPM and the record suits me better at the wrong speed. It’s a full-on Techno record usually, but at the wrong speed its a chugging, pumping record. It’s what the wrong record at the right time is all about. It’s about playing a record that fits a mood and it’s about establishing the sound of a night. Sometimes I can even play under 100 BPM the whole night; creating a vibe with slow music and that’s why I play the wrong record or the right record at the wrong speed, for the vibe. An artist like André Bratten would probably hate it, but when you release a record it’s not yours anymore; It’s mine and the dance floor’s.

Weathermen – Deep Down South

Not every record sounds good at the wrong speed, and it’s never about just hearing something familiar at a slower tempo. It’s about a record that turns into something completely different from the original, like this Weathermen record. There are two versions, but I usually play the one with the vocal because it’s heavier. In this case I accidentally stumbled on the effects of playing it slower, but often I will actively look for a record to play at the wrong speed, because I love playing in a very psychedelic way. When you get the dance floor in on the slow music, it’s completely different night out. You don’t get tired and it gives the dancer more room to get into the rhythm of the night.

Now, this might be a bold statement, but I think most DJs that play in Oslo are at times cowards. That is not to suggest that they aren’t good DJs, merely that they let the dance floor dictate the music; The crowd controls the music. If you don’t experiment, and you might fail, you’ll never know the limits to where you could push yourself and the crowd. As an individual who’s been on both sides of the booth since a teenager, it’s better to have 15 people in a club having a great time, rather than 150 who aren’t really interested. The common denominator goes down as you bring in more people and there’s going to be more people who aren’t there for the right reasons. If there are too many people that are only half into it, it ruins the vibe.

I am stubborn about music and the mood it sets, and I’ll play a record like this, this way which will give the dancer a more substantial reward at the end of the day; If they don’t leave they’ll get into it. It might take longer, but at the end of the night they might be in for a better night because they’ll let themselves experience something that they haven’t heard before, even if it is something that they have heard before.

Hysteric – Temple

If you play a record at the wrong speed, it’s curious how when listening to it at the right speed, something doesn’t quite sound right afterwards. This Hysteric record can be played fine at both speeds, it sounds like a space-aged Electro record under normal circumstances, but slowing it down, gives it a whole new character, eccentric bordering on malicious. Hysteric is known for his disco edits, and I’m not sure if this is an edit or an original, but in the way it sounds at this slower speed, there’s something unusual about it.   

Everybody has a finite capacity for new things, and I think to be open to new ideas and new music, takes constant work. I look for stuff everywhere. Even so, I don’t think I’ve played a record that I don’t personally like. Playing music should be something special and I don’t want to end up hating it. I buy music (both physically and digitally) every week and I continue to find stuff all the time; it never ends, and that’s a good thing.

It is getting harder though as the market becomes absolutely flooded with people that don’t get record culture. There are loads of people who are into music, but they are not into record culture. Producers still release music on vinyl rather than digitally, even though they don’t buy records themself. They are not contributing to record culture, they are merely taking advantage of it for their own personal gain. I prefer records and artists who in the spirit of DIY culture make personal and substantial contributions to this record culture with records like these. I like the do-it-yourself stuff. I like the whole process of making a record; from designing the centre label to getting it pressed and out there. You can’t think of it as something to make money from; It’s like the guy with the motorcycle, it’s a hobby, it’s costing him money.

Unconformist at the right moment

Tik & Tok – Cool Running

There’s a seven inch version of this track somewhere in Oslo for the more curious amongst you. This is a track I like to play at peak time even though it might not be suited for that. It’s funny with Electro records; While they might work in the rest of the world right now, they are hard to play in Norway and I’ve lost a few dance floors around Electro records across the 18 years I’ve been active. It’s quite a contrast from the rest of the world where I’ve experienced people are more open to it. It has something to do with the early closing times in Norway in my opinion. When I play clubs in other countries where they are open till 8/10 in the morning, people are more open to different stuff early in the morning. When I play a club that runs deep into morning, I can play a crazy krautrock record at 7am in the morning and people could be totally in to it.

You can’t do that in Oslo or Norway because everything closes early, and this has huge cultural implications for our nightlife. Not just because of the problem of having everybody in the street at the same time, but the whole thing about the way people consume alcohol or drugs, it’s so intense in a very short time; It’s not good for the body or the mind. It’s part of the reason I will play a record like this at peak time, because it just counteracts that excessively intense mood. When people have space, it’s a different way of going out. We used to have later nights in Norway, where even though the bar will close at 3am, the club will stay open till 5 or 6 am and that’s one of the things I miss of going out in Oslo today.

There was this club called Potta and they used to play House music when the bar closed after 3am. It was a lesbian club and one of the few places that played dance music, after 3am. I used to go there by myself. None of my friends would go there because it was a lesbian bar. But I didn’t give a shit, because I just wanted to listen to the music.

Concept Neuf – The Path

This is a record that if you play it at the right time, it’s super funny. It’s very dramatic and it’s very picturesque like a movie. It’s library music from a French (or at least French speaking) percussion group, and I love records like this. I found it in a shop in Oslo and the cover immediately resonated with me as that snaking xylophone stretched out into the distance. I’ve always been into percussion music and percussive sounds.  

I’ve played it and emptied the dance floor, and I’ve played it where its exploded into a funny party scene and it usually happens after the extended introduction, where a calypso, party vibe ensues and the dance floor turns into this imaginary scene from a movie of an hotel bar in Acapulco. It’s music that doesn’t take itself too seriously and that’s very refreshing in the current era of club culture and music. House and Techno music, especially Techno music, takes itself too seriously.

You have to remember that the whole dance floor is a performance and everybody is contributing to something. I just saw Mission Impossible the fallout and DJ Harvey is in it, and they just nailed what club culture is about today; 1000’s of people, standing stock-still with their camera phones trained on the DJ. I think with a record like this it would be pointless facing the DJ, because it would be boring if you don’t lose yourself in it. Something that’s gone wrong in club culture today is the glorification of the DJ. Today people are a name on a poster before they are actually DJs, without the necessary experience or musical knowledge to cater to an audience.  

The unexpected surprises

Francois De Roubaix & Bernard Maitre – Les Onix

I always see people coming in, warm-up DJs playing house records from the first track out, like they are already embodying that name on the poster. I like to bide my time and settle into a night. This is one of those records I like to play when people start coming in. I always start without a beat, usually ambient or library music, because I play to the room, and it is usually empty at the beginning. This is another piece of library music, this time from a French kids tv show recorded between 1972 and 1976 and it’s so different. I would love to have an opportunity to make music for kids television and I know Bjørn Torske has made music for kids tv in the past. I’ve asked him to send it to me, but he’s misplaced the original recordings. I can imagine he would be quite good at it, and I was curious to hear it.

These are just skits, composed of the kind of strange sounds that kids usually love. I have a newborn son and he’s always curious when I’m playing music and the audible effects of a physical action, like placing his hand on the record, or the result of his own yelps in a reverberating room. I didn’t get this record for my son, but like the previous record, I found it a looking through stuff, and thought; ‘this looks interesting.’

Paul B.Davis – Deep Wine

In a similar way I found this record, which is not a record, but actually a CD. It’s not listed on discogs, and much like every other record I’ve mentioned it has that DIY feel to it. It was released by a label called jolly music and the kid responsible for the music is only like twenty years old. It’s a grime track with this dance hall rhythm, and there’s even a bit of Rhythm Is Rhythm in there. I don’t know anything about grime and I wouldn’t necessarily look for music under that genre, but this record shows that if you look in unexpected places you might find some pearls. People look for music in these narrow confines dictated by genre, and they won’t usually find music like this if you look for music in that way. You have to broaden your horizons even if it goes against your personal tastes.

Some of the other tracks are super cheesy and yet it would probably appeal to a few people during this current revival of Trance in Europe, but Deep Wine is the one I always play and definitely needs to be played at the right time. Because of those dance hall elements, if you play it for a bunch of House- or Techno heads, they would just leave. You need to work it for the right moment, and sometimes you might win over one or two of the more uncompromising heads in the room.

Insanlar – Kime Ne

Then there are records too that completely defy categorisation. This is one those records and one that never leaves my side. It was released by Insanlar, which is Baris K’s band, and today it’s a pretty known record, but it was given to me by Baris before it was released, when he played Untzdag years back. There aren’t that many 24 minute records that you could play the full 24 minutes of on a dance floor like this one. The first time I played this one, I had completely lost the vibe on the dance floor, and I was like ‘fuck it’, and dropped this in. Its effects were immediate, it completely reset the vibe and brought everybody back to the dance floor.

I think this is a live recording, from a club Baris runs in Turkey with a couple of friends, called MINIMUZIKHOL. There’s something incredibly musical about it with real musicians playing instruments over sequenced drum machines and synthesisers. 15 minutes in and somebody starts scatting and it just explodes with energy. It ended up being like a riot on the dance floor, even though it’s a slow tempo record.

It’s an amazing piece of music and there are not that many tracks that are this long that you can play through its entirety. This has something extraordinary about it and it’s something I’ll keep coming back to. For some people changing the tempo in the middle of the night would be something totally wrong, but for me it’s exactly what I mean by  the wrong record at the right time.

 

Funk with a sinister edge with Melkeveien

It’s been about a year since Kristian Møller Johansen released his last track as Melkeveien. “Homecoming” came out in the summer of  2018, about a year on from the single before that “Sove På Det”. So it only makes sense that his next release, “Hockey Pizza” should come out a year on from the last to perpetuate the sequence.

Kristian breaks in to a hearty chuckle over the phone as I ask him about his annual release schedule; as if it’s not the first time the annual onsistency has occurred to him.“Hockey Pizza” is still at the mastering studio when I call him up for this interview, and Kristian won’t let me hear a single note until these final touches are applied to the record and it is finished to the degree he expects.

* Cover art by Kåre Magnus Bergh Design by Jette Graaner

The focus for “Hockey Pizza” was on a more “organic, live sound”  than the previous records like “Homecoming,” which was composed from “more programmed and sample based stuff” according to Kristian. “Homecoming” took strains of Disco and Acid and brought them together in the realm of DIY electronica. Rumbling bass lines, syncopated beats and swathes of synthetic textures streaking across the popular song structure, established the sound Melkeveien had been cultivating since “Sove på Det.”

Kristian tells me this is due to evolve on “Hockey Pizza” with a “drummer playing drums rather than a drum machine” lending a different “energy” to these new songs. Guitarist Fredrik Ryberg and keyboard virtuoso Ole Anders Røberg also feature heavily on the forthcoming “mini-EP”, which with Knut Sævik (Mungolian Jet Set) at the mixing controls, gives it more of a live band sound than the solo pursuits of Kristian in the Melkeveien records before it.

It’s a structure that’s more suited for the live show that accompanies this release and will be making its way to Jaeger for the official Oslo release of the new record. “We’re focussing on the band stuff” Kristian tells me in light of the forthcoming release party. The band consisting of Kristian and Embert Johnsen on samplers/keys and John Birkeland Hansen on drums is a fusion of “live and sequenced” material that can easily mutate from a concert venue to a club.

Together they’ve come in to their own as a band, which will result in more recorded material says Kristian, but will also ultimately return to the “more club focussed” sound of “Peter Pan Death Wish” in future releases.

It was “Peter Pan Death Wish”, released in 2014 that first brought the Melkeveien project to the fore. The track found its way on the trailer for the Lynne Ramsay film “You were never really here” starring Joaquin Phoenix and gained a lot of exposure for Melkeveien abroad with  the London Times calling it “essential listening” at the time. That would ultimately reverberate back home too, giving some favourable reception to the single and the EPs that followed.

“People seemed to like that record” says Kristian in a very self-effacing way as “Peter Pan Death Wish” continues to rack up streams over half a million on Spotify. With its plucking sequenced synth and its elastic rhythm and bass, the single would live on beyond the trailer soundtrack to the club floor and bring the label Dødpop to the fore.

Dødpop is a label Kristian runs with Bård Farbu and Robert Jomisko, born out of the brief but significant Skweee wave at the turn of the decade. A “pan-Scandinavian” musical phenomenon out of the era of Myspace, Skweee was a kind of DIY, cut-n-paste Electro that shares a very similar ideology to what lo-fi House does today.

“I don’t consider myself making Skweee anymore,” says Kristian. “The Melkeveien thing is a free thing”, avoiding strict formats for something that can flow effortlessly between his musical influences. If urged to describe his music, he calls it “funk with a sinister edge” and the results find themselves somewhere between Ratatat and Lindstrøm, but really defies categorisation beyond the electronica reference.

Growing up in Hamar, Kristian had a varied musical upbringing. His first foray into music was in a Hip Hop group in the late nineties, although he never considered the group a success, at least not outside the Hamar area.

“That didn’t evolve into anything,” but it did lay a foundation into production, bolstered by an early interest in computer music. “’I’ve been into producing music on computers since 1998, starting with FastTracker and music floppy discs,” says Kristian. He started making music with Niels Thiessen (Mandagsklubben & Brokesteady) in Hamar and released his first record as Mr. Nguyen in 2004, a track called “Hiroshima Hookers” on Sekur Beats. He describes it as a “dancy and quirky” record with references to Warp records and today you can still hear the grassroots of what would become Melkeveien in that record.  

Kristian, Bård and Robert then eventually established Dødpop after trading some tracks online, and noticing some very sonic similarities, similarities that were contemporary with the musical epoch and would eventually lead to the creation of the Skweee genre.

Kristian adopted the name Melkeveien from his street in Hamar which went beyond Skweee to an all-encompassing electronic sound with elements of Disco, Electro and Synthwave coursing through its foundations.

Today Melkeveien switches between being a solo project and a fully fledged band and Kristian reiterates that it brings “a different energy” to the project  “when the band plays together.” With John Birkeland Hansen in situ there’s that tactile and visual interpretation of the rhythm, which when experienced in the live context, is a very vivifying expression of the beat.

Beyond this live show, there will be a tour in Norway promoting “Hockey Pizza”, and a new track will be released on Prins Thomas’ Full Pupp label evry soon. Kristian is certain there will “absolutely be an ep and album” in the future and if there’s any merit in the consistency of releases thus far, then 2020 looks like an exciting year for Melkeveien.

Life after Mo Wax with James Lavelle

Do you think you’d ever want to start another label like Mo Wax again? “Sometimes I do” says James Lavelle, and then there’s a moment – a very brief moment–  as he considers the question … “in a nostalgic way, but in a sense of where we are right now, I don’t think so. I don’t really want to do that right now.”

In 1992 at a mere 18 years of age a precocious James Lavelle, alongside Tim Goldsworthy started what would become one of the most successful independent record labels of all time in the form of Mo Wax. With James as the driving force behind a group of kindred spirits and proficient artists, the label essentially invented Trip-Hop (although James never liked the term himself); launched the careers of a new generation of producers like DJ Shadow, Kool Keith and DJ Krush; and released seminal albums like Endtroducing (DJ Shadow), Psyence Fiction (UNKLE) and Meiso (DJ Krush) through their formidable and explosive tenure. “Mo Wax felt like a band in which I was the lead singer,” James told the independent back in 2014 “But there’s a point where you have to go ‘OK, we’re done’. The whole thing had lost its momentum and I was pretty burnt out.”

By 2002 Mo Wax was defunct and most of its catalogue was sold to Universal music while working relationships at Mo Wax strained as rifts deepened between some of the core group of artists. A new documentary, The man from Mo Wax puts this all into perspective with the director Matthew Jones cut and pasting found and recorded footage together – like his subjects would pieces of records. Framing those tumultuous years in the context of an ailing record industry and the fracturing community towards the end of Mo Wax’s lifetime, the documentary looks to offer a personal perspective on the life and times of James Lavelle during his time at Mo Wax.

“It is what it is” James told Clash Magazine about the film, “and I think what it’s done is it’s allowed something to have that feel and that honesty and that truth, even though it’s not my film and they do have their agenda.”  That agenda is an intense roller coaster ride through the biography of Mo Wax “which at some points maybe focus more on the lows” than James would care for. He reiterated this sentiment in a recent Resident Advisor Exchange, but today he’s “glad it is out” because it’s been “ten years of a strange journey.”

The period directly after Mo’Wax “was all about rebuilding” for James he tells me over a call to his home in the UK. He poured himself completely into his work and his main musical focus, UNKLE.  He started DJing a lot more too and then work on Never Never Land began, the anticipated follow-up to UNKLE’s debut LP, Psyence Fiction. In 1998 Psyence Fiction was one of the highest grossing releases of the decade and one of the last of its kind as the record industry faced the unprecedented challenges of selling records in the digital age and the Internet.

Never Never Land, and any record after,  would never again reach physical numbers like Psyence Fiction, but the sophomore record still reached number 24 on the UK album charts and number 6 in Billboard US Dance Charts when it was released. Never Never Land also begat a relationship with Island Records which lead to Surrender all, the label that became James’ exclusive platform for UNKLE for over ten years where records like War Stories came to life.

While the documentary paints a vivid picture of a fractured community at the end of Mo Wax James insists that “Surrender all was still based around the community at Mo Wax.” UNKLE too still had “a lot of people still involved from Mo Wax” and a lot of the people James worked with “for years continue to be involved” today in the musical project and the latest record label that facilitates all the UNKLE material, Songs for the Def. A hybrid title with references to the classic Hip Hop label Def Jam and the prominent Queens of the Stone age album Songs for the Deaf, it collates the diverse range of influences UNKLE continues to appropriate in its all-encompassing sound.

James made his debut on Songs for the Def with The Road Part I in 2017, with its successor primed for release in March 2019. The records are orchestrated from the very same collaborative principles that established UNKLE with Psyence Fiction as broken beats and cinematic textures converge in radio friendly song formats, produced and recorded at the highest level with a host of talented musicians and artists.

*James Lavelle plays a Mo Wax set at Jaeger this Friday. 

Relationships with the likes of Queens of the Stone Age continue to make impressions on his and their material (James co-wrote “Like Clockwork” from Queens of the Stone Age’s LP of the same name), while UNKLE also continues to assimilate new artists like Miink in its work too.

“Luckily, I was young when Mo Wax started and pretty young when it finished so I was able to start a whole other chapter,” James told the Independent. Life after Mo Wax was a period of intense creativity for James Lavelle that at an artistic level overshadows his time at Mo Wax. He curated Meltdown festival; released the majority of UNKLE records; made music for films; toured UNKLE live; made music for other artists; and also staked his claim as world renowned DJ during this time – the latter somewhat aided, but not completely dependent on four contributions to the Global Underground series.

The relationship with Global Underground happened much in the same way as all the other musical relationships happen in James’ life it seems; the result of coincidence and the circles he moved in. He was a resident at Fabric and very prominent on the “big international DJ circuit” at the time GU approached him.

“At the time it was a very bold thing to do,” he remembers “because the divides in electronic music were very large.” He jumped at the chance however and took it as a “great opportunity” to present “what the perception of a DJ mix within the context of the style of music, in the context of Global underground” could be. The last mix he did for the label was a mix of pure UNKLE material and while he doesn’t “DJ as much anymore“ he still demands a great level of respect from the DJ community for his work at the decks.

James started DJing at the prodigious age of 17, playing places like the legendary Fridge in Brixton. “I grew up on people like DJ Harvey and Giles Peterson as well as Hip Hop DJs” he says when I ask him about his early DJ influences. He’s always favoured UK DJs because they were always more dexterous in the booth compared to their American counterparts. UK DJs were always “more eclectic and much less divided” according to James. James’ own introduction to Djing would come from the traditional  record store roots, and today his skills are the cumulative result of his extensive music career and his early appreciation for record culture.

Growing up in Oxford, he made regular jaunts to London where he began to “discover records in a different way,” he explains in a loving vinyl interview. “I was going to London to do kung fu when I was 13 or 14. It was in Chinatown and I realised that area, around Soho, is where all the good record shops are.” He soon found a job at the legendary Honest Jon’s in Portobello Road, where he could nurture his latent skills as the musical curator that would underpin his work at Mo Wax.

These skills have hardly left him today as he still curates groups of artists around the UNKLE project and his record bag as a DJ. “I’m interested in music in all areas and I’m interested in discovering old records and contemporary records,” he says when I ask him about his buying habits today. In the age of the Internet he finds a never-ending source of new and old music. “As the world opens up more people discover these records that they haven’t discovered before,” and James counts himself as one of these people. From “African funk to turkish psychedelia all these things happen as the world becomes more accessible.”

Although James is less likely to find new things from the nineties, the period where he was most active as a DJ, producer and label owner, “there is so many things constantly” coming into his purview, from those ethnocentric records from the past to new Hip Hop from the likes of Marlowe.

How has his experience of DJing and record culture changed from the time he had been at the height of Mo Wax? “It depends on the context,” he says. It’s a very “commercialised and Americanised” arena today with a lot of the dynamic shifting from the actual DJ to the “success of the songs” a DJ releases as a producer, but in many other ways it remains unchanged for James. The disparity between various sects of club culture between the margins and the more popularised forms of the same culture “have always existed” according to James. In the “nineties you had Cream and Robert Miles” and today “it’s just amplified.” James puts it down to the “much bigger scene of club culture” that exists today, but he is optimistic that this “is a positive thing”.

Even so, he doesn’t see himself ever trying to establish something at the level of Mo Wax today. “It takes a lot of time and investment in other people’s lives to make a record,” he explains and he doesn’t think his head is in the right place to try it again. “I don’t want to be responsible for the careers of of other artist,” he explains and so he’s much happier focussing purely on his own creative endeavours at UNKLE. ”I did Mo Wax and I had that experience and the way things are now is that I have a similar experience with what I do with UNKLE because it’s collaborative in many different ways.”

There’s never a hint of any regret or resentment for Mo Wax and on occasion he’ll even put together a full set of Mo Wax material. “I’m proud of the records I released at the time,” he explains but it’s clear that that era of his life is not what defines him as an artist today. He’s gone on to pursue his creative endeavour as UNKLE; established a couple of labels; and while working at XL even hired the person that would go on to sign Adelle to that label. And according to an interview in Clash Magazine “there are many more” things that were left unsaid, especially in the documentary. James Lavelle is a multi-faceted artist and DJ, one whose career and life after Mo Wax is enough material for whole other documentary series.

Premiere: Center of the Universe – Flash Forward (Endless Winther Flutemix)

At the center of the universe is a musician, surrounded by his instruments, collected from around the world. Center if the Universe is Jørgen Sissyfus, the unconventional artist and DJ at the heart of an expansive musical universe that covers the entire musical globe.  Channeling elements from traditional folk music from various regions through a modern electronic music palette Center of the Universe makes beatific albums with purposeful themes in the style of DIY left-field pop music.

Since the turn of the century Jørgen has been releasing LPs and EPs under the Metronomicon Audio imprint out of Oslo, following a very DIY approach. Underpinning his music, there’s a pseudo mysticism that flows forth from his music, which when combined by the striking themes of records like “Taking a nap with the Center of the Universe” and “Selected Modulations”, brings something exotic to the fore.

From the abstract, where Center of the Universe’s music is informed by ideas like space and time to the very literal form his lyrics can sometimes take, Center of the Universe skirts a line between something severely cognitive and very innocent. Although he’ll often collaborate with other artist (most notably on signing with the Center of the Universe) Center of the Universe is very much a one man show, but on his most recent record, he’s opted for a very different approach, putting his very idiosyncratic sounds in the hands of other producers for a change.

Expansion Pack, which will be officially released tomorrow, is a collection of remixes from Center of the Universe’s back-catalogue from remix artists across the globe. Original pieces have been re-interpreted by the likes of Magnus International, Boblebad and Sloth UK through 10 tracks and today we have the privilege of premiering the opening track, “Flash Forward (Endless Winther Flutemix)” on the blog while we chat to Jørgen Sissyfus about the new record and his upcoming gig at Jaeger for Vinny Villbass and Daniel Vaz’ Badabing.

Tell me about the origins of the EP and some of the ideas that informed it?

(It’s not an EP it’s a full length of mixes!)
The last years I have been releasing some EP’s and albums, most of them with names commenting the format, like Extended Play and Maxi Single Last year we did Singing with the Center of the Universe where 8 singers made songs to my beats. This is not really commenting the format, but now we’re back to that with Expansion Pack, which is the name of this collection of mixes.

Why these particular remix artists?

This release started with producers asking me to do mixes of some of my songs, the results were great in my ears, and I asked some of my favourites like Mesak and Magnus International to do mixes so it would add up to an album. It’s wonderful having people like Sloth UK and Endless Winther to voluntarily do mixes, I am very happy that they have faith in my music! All of the mixes are quite different from the originals, and Toshybot even made a love song from one of my instrumentals.

I don’t assume you have any favourites, but which remix took you most by surprise?

I got the remix from Guvi straight after I played in Germany and he heard my track. He was so quick and I was super happy about the sound of it. Now that’s a year ago, so I am very glad we’ll get this out. I hope some Norwegians will check out his music now.

There’s always a kind of mysticism to the atmosphere to your records. What outside of music inspires you?

I would say I am very inspired by the endless topic of curiosa in all its myriad forms. I am also thinking a lot about time, space and both the very small and enormous things in the universe. The physics and science of sound is also an inspiration, even if it’s both outside and containing music.

Your music seems to channel melodic and harmonic structures taken from folksy traditions, channeled through a modern electronic palette. Where and how do these elements converge for you as an artist? How does it reflect your own musical upbringing?

As a DJ I used to play a lot of folk music and music from around the globe, both original and hybrids/edits. I also used to play bass in a band that played arabic music, kurdish music and music from balkan and greece when I was young. I grew up with that (and electronic music) even if it was and very far from the norm where I grew up. It’s quite natural for me to add some elements from this music, but I don’t want it to be a pastiche. It’s not supposed to be bread with some spice on top, but a well baked børek. Off course it would be easy to attack this as cultural appropriation, but DJ’s from the areas I “borrow” from are among the people that play my tracks the most.

This record is all remixes; “Selected Modulations” was like a homage to synthesisers; and “Singing with center of the universe” was all about the vocalists. What is your working process for these albums and their very distinct themes? Do you find the theme solidify around the album or do you have an idea laid out before you even record a single note?

I really used to start with an idea of something cool to do or make, and after that it’s the same process again but for every track. Most of my recent tracks starts with a “what if”. A very concrete example is a track from Extended Play called Acid Rembetiko which is “about” what would happen if you fuse greek traditional music in 9/4 with Acid house. I have a lot of stupid experiments, but I have to be happy with the actual musical output to use them.

 *Expansion Pack is out tomorrow via bandcamp

 

What will be the source of inspiration for your next work?

Good question, I have already started making what will be the Unknown album. It will be one for the dancefloor, and obviously it will be packed with riddles and mysteries!

You collaborate a lot with other artists. Why is it so conducive for you?

Since I do everything (also mixing and mastering) for C.O.U. it is even more important to have input from others. Actually it’s bordering on a paradox, I’m the Center of the Universe, but the project is very much about relating to, and collaborating with other people, also the people listening to the music.

You’re performing live at Jæger this Saturday, and it won’t just be you on your own. You’ve you assembled for the live band and what will it sound like?

There will be Singing with the Center of the Universe this saturday, so four singers are coming along to sing their songs. Apart from them it’s me playing different instruments. We are really looking forward to playing at Jaeger, it’s a great place for electronic music!

Greetings from Jaeger – The New Website

Back in 2016, we took a step back from the ongoing manual labour, dusted off our overalls, and saw that it was good. A month of renovation, remodelling our bar upstairs, building new restrooms and gutting the staircase made a significant impact. We were still polishing glasses while pumping those first beers from the new bar, and even Ola (he, who is always tinkering) took a moment to admire the handy work.

Only a moment though, because there’s always something to be done. In reality, those renovations never really ended. Work has steadily commenced with a splash of paint, a light fixture and even a wall appearing dotting the timeline since 2016. It’s an ever on-going process as Jaeger continues to evolve and grow, one that will most likely never see an end, but that’s just the nature of the thing.

There was one thing however that we’ve always been meaning to get to throughout it all, but had to neglect for more essential upgrades and changes. As the interior, the soundsystem and the DJs kept changing with the times our virtual presence receded further and further back into the past. Finally it got to  a point where it no longer represented what Jaeger had become so it was time to update our website. With the help of the very patient team at Baggy, we’re proud to present jaegeroslo.no 2.0. We’ve been working on it for two years and with some delays, some false starts and some new beginnings, baggy finally put it together in two months.

It’s a virtual presence that now matches, or even rivals our physical attributes, and frames all that content we’ve been working on over these past years in its rightful idiom. It’s not merely a facelift, but comes with a few new additions that will put our residents, our events, the mixes, the pictures and our blog directly at your fingertips.

As in every aspect of of Jaeger our residents always comes first, and it’s always been our intention to have a dedicated home for our residents both in the physical realm and now in the digital realm too.You’ll find all of them on the resident page at jaegeroslo.no, with their biographies, latest mixes and releases, and some very important links available. All 18 of them are on there like a trumps card pack, with links to each individual artist from there events.

Our events should also be more accessible than ever, with an option to add to your google calendar. (Updates with ical to follow eventually). For the longest time we’ve been fed-up with social media (especially facebook’s event feature) and the way it’s taken ownership over the internet. We spend a lot of time and effort on bookings, logistics and sound,and artwork for all our events to be formatted in some slow, basic html framework that looks as shit at it works. You’ll still find our events on facebook, but our website be catalogued further in to the future for the more musical curious amongst you.

Our blog will remain a focal point in this new addition of jaegeroslo.no with the same kind of content, and more, gracing its pages, which will also including a dedicated page for the Jæger mix series. At the moment it’s still very much a one-man operation, but it has always been my intention in making the blog a dedicated music blog with features, interviews, reviews and op-ed pieces, not just for our residents and visiting guests, but for the entire oslo clubbing community and its music. A one-man operation won’t sustain this lofty ambition so we’ll be looking for contributors in this next instalment of jaegeroslo.no.

If you want to write for our blog email me at editor@jaegeroslo.no. Whether you want to ask your favourite DJ some questions; talk about an artist or record you admire; share a story of a night out; or getting something about music off your chest; we’ve always wanted the blog to reflect the community. If words aren’t your thing however, and you’re more of a visual person, we’ve also got you covered, and our new gallery page is there for your pictures.

This is yet another new phase in this ever-evolving organism that is Jaeger, but like everything else it is and will always be a work-in-progress and together with the people at Baggy we’ll be developing the site more in the future. But now, it’s time to dust off the old overalls again, kick back with Daniel Gude and enjoy our handy work for a moment. Just a moment though.

Jacuzzi Boyz with Jawn Rice & Fredfades

It’s jacuzzi weather in Oslo. Relatively mild winter temperatures and uniform snowfall have draped the city in a white blanket that crunch under my feet as I make my way to Tøyen. There’s no actual jacuzzi waiting for me on the other side of this trip, but more like the abstract comfort of jets of warm water rushing up my spine. On my earbuds is Jawn Rice and Fredfades’ Jacuzzi Boyz, an album that hints at the lure of summer in the depths of winter. The funky bass of “Mutual Love” comes on and I hasten my step towards Fredfades’ Tøyen apartment to sit down for an interview with he and Jawn about this latest Mutual Intentions creation.

Fred’s apartment looks familiar. I recognize certain angles from album covers and press shots. It’s crealy a producer-DJ’s hovel with a few walls dedicated to synthesisers, turntables and a fair amount of records. On the record shelf which contains an eclectic array of records, the luminous green backs of Jacuzzi Boys is immediately visible. There’s about twenty of them sitting side by side on the shelf, the last of the first pressing of this record. “500 was definitely not enough records,” says Fred in a matter-of-factly tone. “We sold out before it was released in the first five days.“

On Spotify the single, “Show me how” has already raked up an impressive 164 000 listeners which Fred says is “really good” for Mutual Intentions. Although the Mutual intentions name has been around for a long time in Oslo and Norway, the label is fairly new and Jacuzzi Boyz in many ways marks a new era for the MI label. After featuring on labels like King Underground and Jakarta, Fred and co, are bringing the music back to the collective with a whole load of records primed for release in the near future, including more music from FredFades, Ivan Ave, Jawn Rice and Byron the Aquarius.

Fred plays me some clips from this last record; Byron’s vocals improvising their way through warm Rhodes keys and synthesised strings, while Fred continues to talk about the mutual intentions label: “I used to think we couldn’t do that stuff ourselves, but I’d rather earn less as long as I know that the 50%goes to mutual so we could use on something rather than it going to some dude paying his rent in another country.” A message chimes on Fred’s phone. It’s Jawn, he’s at Tøyen station, and should be with us in 20 minutes. I admire Fred’s synth collection as Jawn enters in from the cold, to join us.

Jawn Rice & Fredfades play Nightflight with Fatima this weekend.

Tell me a bit about the origins of the LP, what made you want to start working together?

Jawn: We’ve always kind of worked together, since I moved to Oslo.

Did you know each other as kids?

Fred: No, I was in Seattle and I got an email from him after he bought the SP1200 (Drum Machine). We decided we should meet up when I get back to Oslo, and we met up at my father’s place and just made some beats. We made some Hip Hop together for nearly six years, and Jawn started doing more electronic stuff and moved out of the city centre. Eventually he taught me Ableton. I decided to share some sketches with Jawn, and he opened the ones he liked and worked on them.

So that was the origins of the album too?

Fred: Yes, kind of.

Jawn: We’ve always been sharing sketches. I’ve been making sketches every day, for years, but I feel that these past years have been more productive in getting some of these sketches out as songs with Fredrik. It’s just a continuation of our friendship.

You guys have been friends longer than you’ve been working together?

Jawn: We’ve always been friends with a hobby.

Fredrik: Jawn is a super talented musician, but I don’t think he has the same need as other people. If we didn’t put out his stuff, nobody would probably hear it, but it’s really good, so we have to take care of it and get it out.

Jawn: The album was mostly Fred’s ideas and I tried to contribute with sounds.

Jawn, why did you stop making Hip Hop and turn to these electronic sounds?

Jawn: I’m still making Hip Hop. I think it changes every now and then. I can like Hip Hop for a year, and then spend two years listening to something else. Sometimes you just get tired of listening to that one style.

Judging from the output at Mutual Intentions and your record collection Fred, you are eclectic people.

Fred: Yeah, I get tired pretty fast, and usually I get tired of contemporary music a lot faster than stuff that’s aged a bit.

Fredrik, I know you’ve collaborated a lot in the past with other artists, especially through the MI network, but Jawn do you often collaborate with other artists?

Jawn: Not so much. I usually just work on my own. I try to make beats with other rappers, but I haven’t really finished anything.

Fred: It can be frustrating working with other vocalists.

So what made this relationship work so well?

Fred: I think it’s because we’ve known each other for a long time; we share a lot of favourite artists and inspirations, and we have a similar approach to music.

Jawn: I knew exactly what kind of music he was into when I first met him.

Fred: What’s funny now is that we don’t listen to the same artists and styles, but we still work well together.

Was there any seminal influence you were considering when you started working on Jacuzzi Boyz?

Jawn: Not really.

Fred: I would send Jawn some references, but there was never anything that we were aiming to sound like. It was all technical stuff. He is really good in the mixing process and he can recreate anything you show him.

 

I thought I could hear a lot of your individual character in the records, like I could hear a bit of Warmth and a bit of Highlights in there, and of course a bit of that Hip Hop too.

Jawn: I think there is a lot of Hip Hop in that record, and some House and a lot of fusion.

Yes, and you can put on in a club situation and people will go off, especially the single.

Fred: Yes, people are playing it. I used to play the single, but now I play the instrumentals more and it’s always weird playing your own music.

Jawn: Yeah I’m totally finished for the album.

I imagine that since you’ve been working on it so long, that it will get a bit tiresome listening to it after well.

Jawn: Yes, I always know the record is ready when I’m just tired of it.

Jawn,  you strike me as the type of person that’s a perfectionist, and will brood over some minute detail.

Jawn: Yes, I tend to do that every day, but only if I’m entertained by the sounds. That’s usually what I’m thinking about before I go to sleep; I’m opening up projects in my head, while lying in bed and editing it in my head.

Fred: I have a very different approach. I make loads of sketches, save stuff and then bounce the first versions. I’ll keep it in iTunes and after a while, I’ll make a playlist that will tie different tracks together in a red-line. And we did the same with our record.

You worked with some collaborators on this LP  like Tom Noble and Lucid Paradise. These are people outside of the Mutual Intentions family. How did you hook up with these people and what were your thoughts on these collaborations?

Fred: I’m not afraid to reach out to people, I do it all the time. Usually I do it, because they have a song that I really like at that point where I’m finishing up a record, and I think it could work well with a song I’m working on.

Lucid Paradise happened because my friend put out a modern soul record from the artist, which is also called “tonight”, actually. We just wanted some really good vocals so it made sense to contact those guys.

Did you find that working together, brought something else to the surface that you won’t necessarily find in your solo work?

Fred: Yes, I don’t think I would have made a record that sounds exactly like that on my own.

Jawn: I’m not sure I would have put any records out at all if it wasn’t for the collaboration with Fred. (laughs)

Fred: I made a lot of sketches which were probably more fusion Disco, than your electronic demos.

Jawn: I’m getting more and more inspired by other people’s original music lately. If Fred tells me about a good song, I will listen to the song and think, we can make this song. I also liked the rare stuff he was playing and I didn’t hear anybody else playing those tunes.

Fred: I have friends that are good musicians, but don’t have that many references, so they will always make stuff that sounds like you would expect it to sound like, but I think if you’re constantly searching for music all the time, you get tired, and you start looking for small things, small mistakes, stuff that hit a nerve. There’s no point in making the perfect song, it already exists and there’s no reason to duplicate it.

Those mistakes or “quirks” are often the thing that gives a record that sense of identity.

Fred: That’s something I learnt when Jawn taught me how to use Ableton. I’m kind of inspired by all the possibilities and all the limitations I had. I really liked all the crazy stuff you could do in Ableton, but after a long time working in the software, I figured out there was something I was missing. I spoke to a friend about it and he said it was those coincidences in that primitive gear, those small glitches that would make unintended art.

Where did the name Jacuzzi Boyz come from?

Fred: Jawn invited me to Lillehammer, where he’s from and we hijacked these snowboarders’ jacuzzi, and the name got stuck. It was a really stupid name, and we just wanted something that really popped, and luckily it worked.

And it relays the feeling of summer perfectly that you capture in the sound.

Jawn: I also think it sounds like summer record somehow, even though it was made in winter.

Fred: I played it to my friend, Hugo (LX) and he was like: “you need to put this out before the beginning of summer!”

Jawn: And we are working on an EP with some remixes from this record that should come out in March.

Will you continue to work together after this?

Jawn: Yes

Are there already thoughts about the next album perhaps?

Fred: Right now, I think we’ll be releasing another record from Jawn, because he has so many unreleased demos.

Jawn: I really want to make something else.

Fred: It’s really different from the other stuff, even more electronic.

Jawn: After every three or four months, I’m usually done with what I’m digging and moving on to the next thing. Like now, I really enjoy mixing aggressive rap music with House music and dance music and I think that’s something I haven’t heard that much, so it’s fresh to me.

Humbled: Shadow Child in Profile

Few recording artists are able to claim success in the way Simon Neale has encountered it. While most artists are content in toiling away in one pre-designated corner of music, Neale has managed to conquer two opposing factions of electronic music, the underground and the mainstream.

As Dave Spoon he has had phenomenal success as a DJ, producer and remixer with a couple of Top 40 UK hits under his belt, remixes for global pop sensations like Madonna and sets at some of the world’s most prestigious booths during the height of the the superstar DJ era. With a distinctive big-room Electro-House sound, based on bold sawtooth bass-lines and groovy step-sequences he was a cut above the rest with tracks like “At Night” becoming crossover sensations, overnight.

Acts like David Guetta, Calvin Harris and Steve Aoki would arrive into popular culture much through the same channels, but Dave Spoon would always hold a little in reserve to appease an underground faction of his fans.

In 2012 he did the unthinkable and retired the Spoon moniker indefinitely and re-incarnated his musical output as Shadow Child, where we would trade in the commercially accessible sound that had brought him success for something closer to the beating heart of House music, buried far beneath the surface at the roots of the music, but updated for contemporary audiences. As Shadow Child he signed to Dirty Bird records, established the label Food Music with Kry Wolf’s Lewis Darvill, and became a weekly host on Rinse FM.

Trading in the big-room Electro-House sound of Spoon for “skippy garage tendencies and brooding, macho basslines” (as Noisey called it at the time), Shadow Child made an immediate impression on dance floors with his track “String Thing.” From there he quickly established the new moniker at the opposite end of House music’s spectrum from Dave Spoon and in the succession of a few years he came to dominate this spectrum of House music too.

“It was never a plan to shout about it being me, I simply wanted people to discover the music first,” explains Neale in an interview with Deep House Amsterdam. Even though these two distinct projects come from the same individual there’s never been a confluence and each has been allowed to live in their own corner on their own terms, completely independently of one another.

After an LP and several EP’s on Labels like Ovum Records, Super Tracks,Unknown to the Unknown and Food Music of course, Shadow Child has done for the second room, what Dave Spoon did for the main room in House music.

Simon Neale’s entry into music, production and DJing is the result of an early interest, education and some fortuitous conditions. He had been picking through his dad’s extensive record collection from a young age, making mixtapes from a dusty collection of Police and Rolling Stones favourites. When his secondary school was given a hefty increase in their state-allocated budget and decided to invest in the arts and a music studio in particular, Neale directed his inquisitive musical nature from listening to creating.

He was “fortunate to be around that type of kit at that age” he reminisces in a Rinse FM interviewand armed with a coveted arsenal of synthesisers and drum machines, he took his first baby steps towards a career in electronic music. He was “really taken with House music” at the time, but that would not be encouraged by production as much as it was by DJing.

He became “obsessed” with DJing at the same time, especially overcome with the sounds of early Rave and Hardcore. A friendly DJ neighbour would let Neale cultivate this obsession into a skill, leaving the latent young DJ to his own devices on a pair of borrowed decks. Production and music would be briefly sidelined for DJing after Neale left school. With no access to the studio at the end of his school career he honed his skills as a DJ instead, while computer technology developed to a point where he wouldn’t need a studio. By the time the virtual studio software Reason hit the shelves in its first incarnation, he had borrowed a computer from a friend and started making music again.

Being “a bit of a nerd,” he found an immediate affinity for music’s computer age, and in a mere few years went from bedroom producer to Dave Spoon, acclaimed producer and DJ. Even as Spoon it was always a UK “vibe” that would inform his music, as he channeled those early sounds into a contemporary voice. “I don’t really hold back my love for Jungle & DnB” he told Deep House Amsterdam, and though it might be quite imperceptible, it has always been there in his music. As he moved from Dave Spoon to Shadow Child, he accentuated that UK sound in his music, where he would join the likes of Julio Bashmore and Eats Everything on the Dirty Bird roster, bringing a distinctly UK vibe to the label out of San Francisco.

The decision to retire Dave Spoon and become Shadow Child was immediate and a definitive. There are “no plans to use him again,” he told Noiseyin 2013. “I had to break down the boundaries from what I was doing before.” As Shadow Child, Neale essentially embarked on a new musical career from scratch.”To be honest, I wasn’t into what happened to Electro House,” he explained about his decision to move on from Spoon. ”Where it’s gone is to America, becoming the EDM thing. Fantastic and very lucrative if you’re into it as a producer and DJ, but I just couldn’t get into it and didn’t want to play that music, so I had to change it up and here we are!”

It was Eats Everything that paved the way in bringing Shadow Child to the world through the former’s connection with Dirty Bird. Neale already had the seminal track “String Thing” done at that time, “but with no home, or name for it,” he reached out to Eats Everything to facilitate the introduction to Claude Von Stroke’s label. “It’s thanks to (Eats Everything) that the link came with Dirty Bird and now the rest is all history, as they say,” he muses in Deep House Amsterdam.

“String Thing” laid the foundation for Shadow Child to start a new label to frame this new sound, and when he heard Lewis Darvill (Kry Wolf) had similar ideas, he approached his friend with; “why don’t we do something together?”. He told Rinse FM that; ”It took us six months to come up with such a simple name, but a lot of thought and pride’s gone into it.“

That UK vibe that he has been cultivating ever since Dave Spoon was there more than ever in Food Music too. There’s a “distinct UK sound from the midlands” Neale mentioned in several interviews and it can be heard in the prominent bass figures and stoic 4-4 kicks that lay much of the foundation for the label. The label features an extensive discography, with artists like Junior Sanchez, A1 Bassline, Danny Howard and of course Kry Wolf and Shadow Child dotting releases.

Shadow Child’s own “Ooh Tune” and his debut, and only LP, a collaborative effort called “Connected”, have made their own impressions on Food Music, but he’s also made significant contributions on other familiar labels – three releases on Unknown to the Unknown, Ovum Recordings and Super Rhythm Trax came out in 2018 alone.

As a DJ he continues to proliferate the scene, playing paces like London’s Printworks and his Rinse FM show every wednesday between 9-11Pm. “I buy vinyl every couple of weeks,” he explains in Electronic Groove about the show.“ It’s essential for me to keep it all moving and not rely on all the music everyone gets sent by the promo companies every day… I have to keep separate from everything else or it’s always going to be the same.” He’s featured guests like “MK, Detlef and Eats Everything, right through to slightly more alternative artists like Lone, Coco Bryce and Super Flu.” He continues to maintain that balance between the obscure and the familiar as Shadow Child, and with his extensive experience in both fields he is able to move freely between these worlds, without upsetting one over the other.

From Dave Spoon to Shadow Child there’s something abstract that pulses through Simon Neale’s music with an innate ability to attract large audiences. It’s in the simplicity of it, but it’s also in the humbling nature of the man behind the music.  “What I do seems to be striking a nerve at the moment,” he told Deep House Amsterdam in 2017. “So I take all of those positive feelings and comments and pump that back into my creations. Some aren’t musically genius, but they’re effective for sure and that’s what it’s about for me. Humbled to be doing what I do.”

Shadow Child joins G-Ha & Olanskii, Olefonken, Helene Richardt and Broder Ibrahim for Frædag this week.

It’s Called Friendship with Catz n Dogz

All Photos by: Yonathan Baraki

“It‘s called friendship,” says Grzegorz (Greg) Demiañczuk about Catz ‘n Dogz’ next LP, “because we are really good friends and we trust each other.” He and Wojciech (Voitek) Tarañczuk have an extensive history of working on music together as Catz ‘n Dogz with three albums and several EPs marking their tenure together, but on their next LP, Greg and Voitek believe they’ve hit a new stride in their music.

The first single from the new album, New Love is “one of the best tracks” they’ve ever made according Greg, and the rest of the world concurs. New Love has received a favourable reception already in its first week out, getting playtime on BBC radio, Hype Machine and some deserving love from the music media.

Raspy strings and a stabbing synth imbibe a premature feeling of summer on “New Love,” with Catz ‘n Dogz’ distinctive upbeat melodic nature underpinning the track. It’s a sound that’s evolved considerably from the deep Tech of their first EP  “Armadillo” but still retains that accessible and engaging nature that Greg and Voitek have always maintained across their records. Even in light of their last EP, “The Feelings Factory“ (Dirtybird) Catz ‘n Dogz make a bold leap in the evolution of their music, one that has paid off considerably and has all the markings of a crossover success for the Polish duo.

Greg and Voitek started DJing and making music together back in the nineties in the city of Szczecin, where their relative access to Berlin paved a way to a career in electronic music, that would lead to more than just the music. Today they count a label (Pets Recordings), a talent agency (Feast Artists) and a festival (Wooded) as some of their accomplishments, with their work as producers and DJs the central focus of their creative endeavours.

Today they travel the world as DJs between recording LPs and EPs, and split their time between their hometown, Madrid and Berlin when they are not on the road. They are still putting the finishing touches on their LP and the next single, when I call up Greg at home in Szczecin. We were supposed to talk the previous day, when he and Voitek would be in the studio together, but Voitek is at home with a sinus infection.

…it’s one of the best tracks we’ve ever did. It really shows our inspiration from the time we were growing up and it’s got a lot of positive energy in it.

“You know, the typical DJ illness,” says Greg through what I imagine is a smile on the other end of the telephone line. They are currently working on a track with a “really famous Polish rapper,” his first foray into English. He has just delivered the vocals, but Voitek’s condition has delayed the process a little. “It was a lot of fun doing this track,” says Greg and the rapper whose identity he conceals likes it too. “It’s almost done, we just need work on the arrangement and the quality.”

But New Love is out, the first single from the LP, and there’s been a bit of hype around this already. There was a social media post about this track somewhere, saying that you felt it was the best track you’ve ever done.  Why do you think so?

Actually it is, it’s one of the best tracks we’ve ever did. It’s got this feeling that (we were always trying to put into our music). It really shows our inspiration from the time we were growing up and it’s got a lot of positive energy in it. We are really happy about the track and also the remixes. It looks like everybody likes it too and we didn’t expect it to be such a big hit. It’s one of the last tracks from the album that we did, and I think it contains all the inspirations we were getting when we were working on the album in Spain.

Can you tell me a bit more about the album?

The last time we made an album, we were still working out of our studio in Berlin and the project took us one and a half years, because it was so big. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves and the album came out great, but it was a lot of stress. That’s why we decided to do this album in a shorter period of time.

Voitek moved to Spain almost three years ago and he discovered an amazing place in the mountains. We rented a wooden house and found the acoustics were great.The view from the window, 1300m up in the mountains was amazing. It was perfect. We were surrounded by nature and we didn’t put any pressure on ourselves and that worked out really well.

The album is called friendship, and you and Voitek share long history together in that regard. How did you two meet and what compelled you to work together originally?

We are both from Szczecin, which has a population of about half a million people. It’s very close to the Baltic sea, but also very close to Berlin. That’s why the access to music for us was pretty easy compared to other parts of Poland. It was hard to get the music we liked in the 1980’s when we were young, but we were able to listen to the radio from Berlin and Germany.

Because we were so close to Berlin a lot of DJs would come here for the odd gig so the scene was really good and the clubs were really good and that’s how we met; because the scene wasn’t very big. I saw that Voitek was doing some music and I started doing some music, so we exchanged music. And then a new club opened and we were the residents, and started doing the radio show at the same time.

What was the club called?

Mezzoforte. It was actually pizza place with a basement where we were inviting people like John Tejada, High Fish and some other DJs to come play.

What  sort of music were you being exposed to at that time, the stuff from West Berlin?

Actually, we had a friend who had all the limited editions and unreleased records from the US, because he was exchanging some emails and letters with the shops from Detroit and Chicago.

You know how it is, you get pretty creative when there is not so much stuff around. Now you have to spend a lot of time looking through a lot of records, but at that time you really had to make an effort.

Yes, but the main inspiration came from Berlin, because we were going there once a month with a huge list of records, fighting in the shop, trying to decide who would get the best records.

I remember when we started to play together at the residency, we were flipping a coin to see who would play a record, because sometimes we would only have one copy, because we could only afford one copy.

Do you think that effortless connection from playing back to back made it quite easy to start making music together?

No it was not. We were playing back to back, but also Voitek was playing harder and I was playing deeper. Through the years from playing back to back we started mixing our styles. Our heroes were DJs like Laurent Garnier, who was also collecting different styles of music. When we played longer, we were able to connect our styles.

We always wanted to do some music, because I was always into the hardware and software and discovering new sounds, and Voitek was always very manual.

Somehow our connection was really good. Through the years we discovered how to work together and right now it’s amazing.

Even when we buy records, we don’t buy the same records; a similar style but a little different. When we meet in the club we’ll play some stuff the other one doesn’t know.

Each of you brings a little of your own individuality to Catz ‘n Dogz to make it what it is.

Yes, I think that’s the best, because it’s like a challenge. It’s a bit like competition and we need the energy. To be honest, right now, it’s even more inspiring and more fun. As I said earlier we don’t put any pressure on ourselves today and we can just focus on self development and the music.

I am shocked with the quality of the records we are getting. It’s really hard to say no to some stuff…

That brings me back to the album and what you said earlier about how this album came together. Did you find there was a development or evolution from the last record Basic Colour Theory?

Yes. Basically as an artist you always want to do something new. Before we were doing music with a basic idea without thinking about the sound or the arrangement, but right now when we work together it feels like we have more experience through all the years of working together.

I also want to ask you about the larger Catz ‘n Dogz empire, which includes Pets Recordings (the label), Feast Artists (the agency) and the Wooded festival. Why have so many fingers in all these pies at the same time?

Because we don’t like to have any free time. (Laughs) Sometimes it’s too much though. For example this year we’ve decided not to do the Wooded festival because we have the album tour.

It was always our dream to do the label. That was always a lot of fun for us; discovering new people, because we still like to dig. The label is doing really well and we have a lot of new releases for this year.

Marysia is our manager and she also runs Feast artists with Marta who’s also helping us with the label. We’ve known them a long time, and they are good friends and we have a really good vibe working together. It’s all about friendship.

The label is quite versatile with people like Richie Hawtin, Ejeca and Matthew Jonson all on that one label. What do you look for in artists you want to sign for Pets recordings.

Right now we are quite full. To be honest I am shocked with the quality of the records we are getting. It’s really hard to say no to some stuff, but we have to because we don’t want to release that much.

When is the Catz ‘n Dogz album coming out?

It’s actually coming out on the Brexit date. (Laughs) We only discovered it yesterday.

You’ve played at Jæger a lot –  I think you’ve played every year for the last three years.

Yes, it’s so much fun. It’s a really great club with a great sound system, and we love to come to places like Jæger and play once a year because then we go and we really know what to expect and you can really focus on the music. When you go to a new club you never know what the people are going to be like and how the sound is going to be, so the first hour is a test.

And what are your expectations at Jæger?

We can experiment more and we can play more underground, because the sound is really good. We can play some stuff with bass and test our own new productions because of the sound. We’ll play some edits and some unreleased stuff.

So we might get a sneak peak at some of the upcoming album?

Definitely and some singles.

A moment with Black Motion

Thabo Mabogwane & Bongani Mohosana have been making music together as Black Motion for the best part of the last decade. Coming through the ranks of South Africa’s vibrant House music scene, the pair count Culoe de Song and Black Coffee as their counterparts, but together they’ve established a sound in the South African House dialect all their own.

Black Motion’s sound is built on the foundations of the drum, with rhythms structured around native musical languages informed by rich cultural heritage of South Africa, but executed in the familiar style of House music. “We’ve never wanted to make house music,” they told Billboard magazine in a 2017 interview, “we’ve only ever wanted to make South African house music.” With rhythmical arrangements closer to Kwaito than House music, and diasporic influences from the wider canon of contemporary music informing their work, they’ve made a severe mark in South Africa’s music scene, signing as a joint venture artist to Sony and playing to stadium audiences back home.

Black Motion are a prolific musical duo, making their debut with the LP, “Talking to the Drums” and releasing an album every three years up until the present to their latest LP, “Moya Wa Taolo”. Lacing an intricate and deep narrative through their work, each album progresses from the last, both conceptually and musically and they trace a fluid line through South Africa’s cultural diversity. They’ve kept South African audiences entertained with their LPs and hybrid live shows for the best part of decade, and now that they’ve “hit” what they considered “the roof” of popularity at home, the next phase of their career is to export it to the wider world.

After establishing Black Motion as one of the highlights of the South African House scene, they’ve striked out on the international scene in recent years and again all on their own terms through their unique take on the live-DJ experience, perpetuating the Black Motion sound and energy.. We bared witness to their awe-inspiring craft on stage during their recent foray into the northern hemisphere, which found them playing at Jæger and in a brief moment we also found an opportunity to sequester Thabo and Bongani backstage between soundcheck and their show for a Q&A session.

“You are born into House music. There’s nobody that comes from the hood that doesn’t understand House music. Your daily life is House music and that’s why we incorporated it into our lives. “

How did you guys meet?

Thabo Mabogwane: We met in Soshanguve, in the hood where we are both from, through a guy called Moses. We were producing individually, and through Moses we linked up and formed Black Motion. This was 2010.

Moses, was he also involved in the House scene at the time?

Bongani Mohosana: No he’s just a guy who likes music and collecting music. He had some of my stuff and some of Thabo’s stuff and he decided he had to put us together. And I’ll say he’s the founder of Black Motion, because he invested in a lot of up and coming artists. He bought us our first equipment.

Soshanguve was there at the centre of the House explosion in South Africa in the nineties reaching up all the way to Polokwane. 

Thabo: O yeah, proper.

Were you aware of what was happening around you at the time in terms of House music?

Thabo: Yes, as soon as you are born into Soshanguve, it became culture, House music became tradition. You are born into House music. There’s nobody that comes from the hood that doesn’t understand House music. Your daily life is House music and that’s why we incorporated it into our lives.

Bongani: House music is also a little bit of our clan. We’re from the same clan, even though we might have different surnames. It’s a part of our roots, because we would play drums when we wanted to celebrate something.

Thabo: Or call the rain and when we want to heal somebody traditionally, we always want to communicate it with the drums. So, what better way than taking our culture and fusing it into House music. We started out with drumming and producing our own tracks and doing what we do in the studio on the stage. That’s the whole movement, that’s how it started.

I’ve read in past interviews that the drum is an important element to your music. So it is something that has been informed by the traditions of your clan?

Thabo: Yes, it’s always tradition, especially in our clan. We are descended from the clan of the rain queen, Queen Modjadji. The source of all communication, the most important part of our culture are the drums. Everything we do, we do with drums. Whether it’s the healing or an initiation… anything that’s cause for celebration. The drums are the key to everything and that’s why we incorporated it in our music. When we’re on stage and we’re playing the drums we think it touches people…

Bongani: Spiritually.

When you were listening to House music growing up, how much of it was from the States and Europe and how much was homegrown?

Bongani:  We were listening to everything. Music is music. When you check our phones today, it goes deep. Deep African music but also European music. We play those traditional sounds from other countries so we can learn where the music comes from.

Thabo: In the nineties we had a lot of music that taught us a lot about House music. I think it was around the eighties when vinyl started coming in from people like Frankie Knuckles and  a whole lot of artists from the US, especially Chicago – they opened up the scene in South Africa. Every day there were a whole lot of tracks that we would hear from vinyl. So I would say Chicago House influenced House in South Africa. Because we were not that privileged back in the day of owning a computer, we just relied on the music from overseas.

Bongani: And compilations.

Thabo: That’s how it circulated.

I’ve read that your philosophy is about exporting the Black Motion, and in extension the South African sound to the wider world.

Thabo: Yes, accommodate everyone.

How does the reception compare when you play in Europe and the States to back home in South Africa?

Bongani: It’s different, but for us it’s a fresh start to get to see people who connect through us through music even though they might not know us. They give you that 100% attention and for us it’s overwhelming. We feel that in South Africa we’ve hit the roof, so for us being here and travelling all over the world, we’re learning.

What is your connection with other House artists in the region like Black Coffee and Culoe de Song, do you feel you are part of a bigger scene there today?

Thabo: Yes, there’s always an involvement with whatever we try and do, especially with Afro House, the kind of House that we do and push. There are always a whole lot of collaborations with other artists and we have done a few tracks with Black Coffee in the past too. In December we did a surprise concert with him. So that’s where the link comes in.

Bongani: There’s usually a three year gap between our releases, because we dedicate a full year to other musicians. We collaborate with other artists and perhaps work on other projects with them and after that we’ll focus on our own album.

“We have to sit down first and tell each other stories and that’s where the song will come about, it’s a spiritual connection.”

Have you seen House music in South Africa evolve a lot with so much focus from the outside world looking in today through social media and the internet?

Thabo: Yes, it’s grown a lot, but in different genres too, I think. Sometimes the popping of the Internet can lead to a whole lot of pressures too. The internet is a buzz, it’s a moment, so there’s a whole lot of artists in South Africa that are only Internet based.

Bongani: They appear to be proper…

But then it’s just hype.

Thabo: Yes, but there are some real artists that are really making it big without the Internet

I believe there is some narrative that follows your music across albums (at least through Talking to the Drums to Ya Badimo) and that the “musical journey also mirrored that progress.” Can you tell us a little more about these themes?

Thabo: With the first album, “Talking to the Drums” it’s the first initiation of becoming a traditional healer. The first step is communicating through the drums which is opening the channel. The second album was entitled “Aquarian Drums”. This is the second step of becoming a traditional healer. You go underwater for six months, hence the title. The third one was “Fortune Teller”. This is where you are able to tell others what you’ve heard under the water. “Ya Badimo” was the step where we give thanks, like a thanksgiving ritual. “Ya Badimo” is the ancestors and we gather round to say thank you and give thanks to the journey. And now we’re at Moya Ya Taola, which is the spirit of the bones.

Yes, I was going to ask you where Moya Ya Taola fit into this narrative, because I’ve only heard the story up until Ya Badimo.

Thabo: That’s imbedi. This is the point where we’re going to tell you about the music. It’s a reference (to traditional healers) as they would throw the bones and tell you where to go. So, our bones is our music and we just throw it on the floor.

Bongani: It’s like we are giving the people what we learnt.

Is that why that album features the most collaborations, because you’re giving something back?

Thabo: Yes exactly, and if you check you see it is made up of people that are not popular in South Africa or that well known. We want to give people a chance. We only want to take people that don’t know the industry and give them a platform.

Bongani: And some of the (collaborations) are people that we were in the studio with three years ago. We take our time, we don’t just jump in and record. With our collaborations we don’t believe in image. We have to sit down first and tell each other stories and that’s where the song will come about, it’s a spiritual connection.

How do you come across these artists?

Thabo: In most cases they are people that approach us, and we can usually sense if they are serious. Other times it’s people that come via recommendations from people we know.

What do you look for in an artist for these collaborations?

Together: Originality.

Bongani: The artist needs to be themselves.

Thabo: And not try and impress.

Bongani: We’re not VIP guys, we’re very accessible. We like to be around people. We learned to listen to other people’s stories and that’s where we get our answers.

*Frædag returns this week with B.Traits

Free Falling with Karolinski

There’s a tense quiet, the faint sounds of a synthesiser feeding back on itself, and suddenly; a magnificent wave of sound rolls out of Jæger’s 21 inch Funktion One bass cabinets. An all-consuming focus resolves into big undulating boulders of sound lapping up against bodies pressing closer to the stage. Karolinski (Karoline Hegreness) is making her live debut in Oslo and there are no expectations, but the energy is electric as the soundsystem trembles through the opening bars of her set. In the front there is a dedicated group in Jæger’s basement, they’ve come exclusively to see the budding artist and she has pulled them close to the front, forming a tight but free circle around the stage.

Karolinski has only just released her debut record, an LP called “Abnormal Soundscape”, but already she’s cultivated a keen following in Norway. Although she has been a DJ in the Bergen scene for many years, “Abnormal Soundscape” has been her first foray into production, and it’s clear that there is an inherent understanding of the club environment when she takes to the stage. A track from the album, “Oh Lordy” spills out from the speakers and the warm surging bass washes over the audience while crystalline noise, resonating back onto itself cascades from the upper frequencies.

If pressed, “Oh Lordy” is her favourite track from the album she tells me before her set. “I made that in Australia in a beach House last summer”. It’s the “latest track” from the album and Karoline’s gesturing shapes from behind her podium of machines is her enjoyment manifested through movement. “Do you find the live show more exciting that the DJ set” I ask her. ”Of course,” she says eagerly; “You have more things to do on stage… and it’s super intuitive.”

She’s excited for the night ahead and says she will be incorporating some vocals in the preceding set. For this particularly live show at Jæger she has “started bringing in House music and vocals”  to give her audience something a little “different” from the album. The album which has enjoyed a very promising critical reception in Norway only came out in December, but already she’s cultivated a significant following.

Since releasing “Abnormal Soundscape” on her own label  FJORDFJELLOGDALER (FFDR) the requests to perform have started trickling in. Olle Abstract specifically asked for Karolinski when he played in Bergen recently and while she was still preparing for her live set at Jæger she jumped in head first to make her debut as a live artist. “I was already stressing about the one at Jæger which was a month and a half away,” she explains but “it went pretty well.”

She took a lot away from that first gig, and observing her on stage at Jæger it seems like she is well versed at the job at hand. Even when the power abruptly shuts down during her set at Jæger, she handles it like a pro and jumps right back into her set with grace and determination like nothing has happened. Her live set exceeds 130 beats per minute, a severe departure from the “pretty chill set” she played in Bergen only a few weeks back, she tells me. The dub influences on her work, with those deep rolling waves of bass and extended delays, undercuts the tempos of the 4-4 kicks punching their way through the miasmatic textures. Tracks from the album contort into new improvised pieces, pieces that might be the first sketches of  a new track. A vocal dissipates into endless echoes and elements of House and Techno find a common ground in the live setting, including an homage to Crystal Waters at the end of her set.

Karoline is also a skydiver and skydiving instructor, and there’s always been a tactile connection between “flying” and music for the artist. Titles like “I wanna dance in the sky” and the video for her first single “ Basic Frequency” parlay this into a literal correlation, but it all harks back to her childhood. Her parents, skydivers and computer programmers created an environment where electronic music and skydiving became symbiotic experiences. She had Napster when it was still an unknown entity, and she would “download a lot trance” but with specific themes. Titles like “castles in the sky” and “dreaming of flying all the time” she remembers specifically today. Tracks like these and specifically Trance, sparked an early interest in electronic music, but it wasn’t exactly an isolated experience for Karoline. “When I heard the complexity of the synthesiser,” she explains “I connected it with my mum and dad was doing when they were flying.” Both music and skydiving became two very important aspects in her life.

“Naturally I got into electronic music after listening to a lot of  Trance,” she says but through the years the associations with flying have moved from Trance to Dub Techno. “ It’s about the long dub chords, the reverbs, the delay and the space that you can create,” and that’s the parallel she draws between music and skydiving today. “When I fly,” she says, “I just hear a drone” and it doesn’t take much on the listeners part to find these striking parallels too. Through “Abnormal Soundscape” there’s an emphasis on space as simple repetitive phrases repeat on themselves, orbiting around a simple refrain from synthesiser.

Inspired by “early 2000 Echospace, Deepchord and Maurizio,” Karoline started making electronic music in 2013. She set out in search of the fundamentals via YouTube, but found the process “really confusing.” She realised that; “if I really want to learn this I have to go to school.” She enrolled in an Ableton course at Point Blank in London, which applied her with the basic tools to start making music, and a platform for her to hone her eventual sound. “Skydiving was still a really big thing” in her life at that point and she managed to travel the world with it, but she made sure that everywhere she went she could bring her portable studio with her.

When she moved back to Norway, she came back with a singular vision: to finish the recorded material, release a record and start a label. She found a makeshift studio on the outskirts of Bergen, and sequestered in her new home, began to compartmentalize what she’d made through her travels. She set herself the task of going through “hundreds of finished projects” in an effort to create a “soundscape” from a “few selected tunes” that would eventually become the album. “When I got home to the studio,” she explains “I could finally get my shit together and just focus on being here with the music.” That was the start of everything for Karoline with everything circling back to the first track on the album, “flight simulator”

“Flight simulator is the first track I ever made,” says Karoline. It was inspired by Tiësto’s “Flight 643” and Karoline’s “favourite game” from where the track takes its name. “I’ve always wanted to use a speech from a flight,” she says about the song’s origins and found a “fucked-up version of the speech” from the game to form the basis of the track, the vocal gliding up and down the looping arrangement. The speech and the subject matter adds a very eerie quality to the track that Karoline found “super strange and surreal,” but at the same time adds something literal to the abstract soundscape she creates through synthesisers.

There’s often this literal quality li to Karolinski’s music, which Karoline doesn’t try to subvert through her tracks titles. “Toget fra Oslo heim til Bergen” for instance was a track created on the train home from Oslo to Bergen exactly as the title suggests but there’s also something tactile about that trip in the music. She looked out of the window during her journey and interpreting the lights flashing past the window as sounds, she found the defining crux of that song.

“Abnormal Soundscape” is the result of some 10 years worth of music distilled into the album in this way with personal experiences defining the sound of the album. Why did it take her so long to release music? “I wasn’t ready,” she says and elaborates; “before, I was still travelling around and make music wherever I was. Now I want to have it as a career.” And what about skydiving? “I really love it and it’s a big passion in my life. But so is music and music is a bigger part of my life at the moment.”

Karoline paved her own way to success, establishing her own label, and even though she had the entire Bergen scene at her disposal, she feels that her experience with music was a “super  isolated” one. She had known the “music dudes” in Bergen all her life through Djing and specifically mentions Christian Tilt as an abettance, but when it comes to her music and the label she “really wanted to understand” the intricacies of running her own label and being an independent artist. FJORDFJELLOGDALER had to be her “own platform” and Karoline “was never interested” in working with other labels.

In the future she hopes the label will become a similar platform for other artists and if offered, she might start working with other labels too. Meanwhile she’s got a “couple of EPs with both House music and more trancy stuff” on the way and some more Techno in pipeline. With more gigs starting to line up, she’ll be developing her live show concurrently as a very comprehensive package. Our conversation dwindles down as soundcheck is prioritised, but before we part ways until later the evening, and she heads off to the stage, I ask her what her set might be like. “The one tonight”, she says… “is not going to  be chill.”

We’ve got some catching up to do with Cassy

*All photos by Kenny Rodriguez

Cassy (Catherine Britton) has always considered herself a DJ first and foremost. Even though she might have first made  her mark in electronic music through her voice, providing vocals for other producers she insists; “I see myself way more as a DJ than a singer.” A prominent DJ figure today, Cassy travels the world on the back of her skills behind a set of decks and regularly plays two to four times a week from intimate venues like Jæger’s basement to vast cavernous club spaces like Berghain’s Säule.

She is able to go from the immediate intensity of festival crowd at peak time, to the subtle intricacies of a seven-hour set in Berlin. “That’s my job,” she told us in no uncertain terms in the past on this blog. “For me it’s a given, if people pay me to play in the club, and I should pay attention to the crowd.“ She talks from extensive experience as a past Panorama Bar, Trouw, DC-10 and Rex Club resident.

As a recording artist her career has moved perpendicular with her career as a DJ, culminating in her debut LP in 2016, Donna. She’s released records for the likes of AUS music, Perlon and Bass Culture records, and she’s collaborated with some of the most prominent electronic music artists out there. In 2017 she set up her own label, Kwench Records to collaborate with artists like Art Alfie, Demuir and Pete Moss as well as establishing a platform for new artists.

It was since our last encounter with Cassy on this blog, that she’s launched her label and released her debut LP and although she’s been a regular feature in the booth at Jæger, we’ve missed some opportunities to ask her about these developments and others in her career, her music and club culture. We were not going to miss another opportunity however, and with her next set at Jæger looming, we shot over some questions to Cassy, and she happily indulged us. So excuse us, we have some catching up to do….

Cassy plays Frædag with G-Ha & Olasnkii this Friday.

Hello Cassy and happy new year. Do you ever make new year’s resolutions?

I don’t need to make them in the new year as I make resolutions all the time, every week!

I was just looking over your touring schedule for 2018, and you played every week, most often twice a week (that I can see from RA) and all over the world. What do you do in between to recharge?

I try to sleep as much as possible, work out and eat well. I have also gotten back into meditation again more recently.

It’s been a while since we spoke and there have been so many highlights. The release of your album Donna was one of them. Looking back on it now two years down the line, what did the debut LP affirm and how has your personal relationship with the music evolve after you got some distance from it?

It was the first step into a direction I wanted to take, and it was a very good start. My relationship with the music differs. Sometimes I feel like I can’t listen to it anymore, and sometimes I really love it!

The electronic music album is becoming something of a lost art-form, especially in this era of musical consumption. How would you approach a second LP today differently from the last?

With a more relaxed attitude. Worry less about it being an album and trying to make it fit into what an album should be, and see it more as presenting the music that I have made.

With your record label imprint Kwench Records, the first releases were collaborations. What do you get out of the collaborative experience that is different from working solo?

When you collaborate the end result is something you have no idea of, unless you work together a lot of course, but for me that is not usually the case. It’s exciting and you can learn from each other.

“One thing I have learned in my life and my career is to not look into the past, look to the future and build something.”

The last few releases on the label were solo records from other artists. Was this an intentional shift? Will you continue to collaborate with other artists going forward?

The label is a journey, and it takes time to figure out what the best route is. It’s hard to have a vision of something that lasts forever so you have to allow for adjustments. At first, I had a strong vision, but quickly figured out that that vision was not completely possible, and so I am allowing the process of letting it grow more organically, but still having one eye on the road. One thing I have learned in my life and my career is to not look into the past, look to the future and build something.

Ivaylo featured on a compilation for the label, and I believe he’ll be bringing out an EP on Kwench in the new year. What established this relationship between our resident and your label and what can you tell us about this new EP?

The relationship developed by meeting Oslo every single time I am there, and talking about music and life, and feeling a strong connection.

2018 was the year of #metoo. Have you personally experienced a change in the industry since?

No comment. It’s better this way.

For an artist and DJ like you who came up through the ranks of a predominantly chauvinist industry, were you constantly aware of the challenges and how did you approach, and ultimately curb them?

It was extremely challenging from the get-go. Personally, I think having to deal with egomaniac, greedy, and power tripping personalities is worse, and both men and women can behave like that. I didn’t need to be aware these types of personalities, they were just in my face. When people act out of fear and are very short sighted this creates problems, so you just have to do your best to deal with things in your own way where possible, and stay in your power!

You’re an honorary resident by now at Jæger and you must know the crowd pretty well. How does your set adapt to the crowd here?

I feel at home at the club. It’s so easy to adapt there because it’s such a relaxed and open atmosphere.

What is in store for Cassy the recording artist and the Kwench label in 2019?

Now I have had the label for just over a year it’s given me a chance to think about the direction, and so I will be putting more energy into its identity in 2019. I am also working on my own music to broaden my horizons and release on other labels this year.

And lastly can you give us sneak peek into your record bag, and pick out three of your current favourites

Cinthie ‘Together’

Niles Cooper ‘House Gospel’ (Black Loops remix)

Eddie Amador and Dany Cohiba ‘Crazy’ Julian Chaptal remix

The craft of Suzanne Kraft

Diego Herrera is a prodigious musical talent. In the eight years he’s been active as a producer, he’s made seven LP’s as Suzanne Kraft; released an underground dance floor monster EP in 2015 as Dude Energy; has collaborated with the likes of P. Relief and Jonny Nash on various Eps and LPs; and most recently he’s released an LP under the new alias SK U Kno. Did we miss anything? Possibly, Herrera is a very productive artist and his musical reach spreads far and wide, and there is sure to be some projects under pseudonyms or collaborations that have eluded us.

 

 

Born and raised in Los Angeles, Herrera’s name first cropped up on the LA online radio channel, Dublab. He rose through their ranks from intern to programmer and host, while concurrently refining his musical voice as a producer and artist. He got his first real break in the latter after releasing the sleek deep Disco/House “Green Flash” on Running Back. With elements of House, Dub, Disco and Funk coursing through the release, Herrera’s eclectic musical influences made for a unique sonic signature in his work.

He followed it up with EPs on Young Adults, Noise in my Head and Kitjen, expounding on the diversity in his sound with a series of bold dance floor cuts that made severe impressions in record bags. He eventually moved to Europe, Amsterdam to be exact, and took his career into overdrive, where he went from a EP/single artist to an album artist for Jonny Nash’s Melody as Truth label.

The albums, like his EPs favoured a diverse approach, with the serene ambience of a record like “What you get for being young” counterpointing the pop-centric constructions of his debut LP, “Talk from home” in an exquisite balance that showed his variation as an artist, but also defined an attitude in sound. Built around the polarity of vintage synthesizers and organic samples with intuitive rhythms that break with common tropes, Suzanne Kraft is unlike anything you are likely to have heard before.

He transports this to the booth with a digger’s fascination for music that finds him in good company in Amsterdam where people like Antal and Young Marco occupy a very a special place on the DJ circuit. Naturally he’s found a kindred spirit in Øyvind Morken too and as the pair get ready to go back to back this Wednesday in our booth, we took the opportunity to ask the visiting DJ and producer some burning questions.

Untzdag with Suzanne Kraft and Øyvind Morken

Hello Diego. Where are you originally from and how did you get your start in this kind of music?

I was born – and raised in – Los Angeles to a mother and father who have always been supportive and encouraging of any creative endeavour since day 1.

Which came first; DJing or making music?

Making music.

You had your start at dublab in LA. How did you end up there and how do you think it aided your career?

I started at dublab as an intern when I was still in high school, about 16 years old. I was a fan of the station and just wanted to be involved in any way, so I wrote them an email and got a response from Ale (the now station director.) Both frosty (station director since 1999) and Ale were hugely influential on my musical worldview by constantly showing me all sorts of music across all genres. I eventually became a staff member and hosted a weekly radio show for about 4 years – first with SFV Acid and then with Daddy Differently. dublab sort of became both my playground and classroom over the course of roughly 6 years.

I noticed there is a lot of that Berlin Techno sound currently happening in LA. Are there places, parties, or record stores that accommodated the more eclectic approach that you favour in your music and DJ sets?

As far as record stores go Amoeba will always be at the top of my list. The shear size and turnover there has always lead to me finding countless good ones.

Places – nothing compares to driving through and around the city listening to music.

Parties – I’d always prefer a bar or a friend’s house.

You’re obviously not there anymore since you moved to Amsterdam. What encouraged you to move this side of the Atlantic and why exactly the Dutch capital?

Over the course of a few years doing European tours I saw the potential to perhaps make a living off playing shows and DJing if I lived in Europe. I took a gamble and, so far, it’s paid off. I picked Amsterdam because of the concentration of friends who live here.

What are some of the differences between playing for a European audience compared to a US audience?

My experiences playing in Europe greatly outnumber those in the US so I can’t really comment.

There are some obvious differences to your Dude Energy alias and your works as Suzanne Kraft. How do you approach all your musical projects differently?

I don’t have any conscious approach towards working on music. I tend to work on many, disparate sounding things simultaneously and just slap a different name on it when it’s done.

Am I right in thinking that Suzanne Kraft is more focussed on the album format?

You could say that.

Each LP is very different. Do you usually have a thematic framework or concept informing the albums as Suzanne Kraft?

Each record has usually been the result of finding a sound palette or workflow I like. Every record I’ve done on Melody As Truth has been recorded very quickly because of this – usually within a week.

When you talk about a sound palette and workflow, it sounds like each album is usually built up from something like a single synthesiser that informs the other sounds too. Is that the case?

In essence, that’s correct. Although historically it’s been more of a constellation of equipment or a new/different studio to work in. I tend to work on music most days, playing and recording aimlessly until one day I strike upon a string of cohesive ideas that, quickly, start forming something you could call a record.

Your records as Kraft are quite diverse in terms of sound. I imagine like your DJ sets, you’re attracted to diversity in music, but what’s the single thread that ties it altogether for you as an artist?

Probably some kind of internalized emotional narrative. I’ve learned I’m not a very expressive person but – and I do recognize how saccharine and cliché this can read – music does serve as my best outlet of expression.

Do you feel there needs to be a relationship between the music you make and the music you play out?

I think there is certainly an element that is inextricable between the two – an exchange of influence from one to the other in either direction.

You’re last LP was actually a collaboration with Jonny Nash. How do these collaborations filter into your own music?

With Jonny they’ve become inescapable… We’ve been sharing a studio for two years now. But in general I find a good collaboration with anybody to be freeing, insightful and, most importantly, effortless. That record, ‘Passive Aggressive’, is a perfect example – we recorded and mixed it in 4 days.

That was the last LP in 2017 that had your name on it. What will your next recorded project be and sound like?

I’ve got a handful of projects in the oven at the moment some of which might be more experimental things, a 5 year old pop EP and some more straightforward club stuff. Some of it might sound like this:

 

The new stuff LP as SK U sounds amazing. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

The ‘U Kno’ record was a result of working on a bunch of sketches for a couple of live shows I did at the end of last year. I exported all these fragments and track elements to present this sort of mixed collage. No ‘Label’ expressed interest in releasing what they heard at one of the shows and so I re-created the arrangement with some amendments

Why did you create yet another a new alias in this case?

Oh who knows… :) Putting it together felt like a “new chapter,” so I decided to title the chapter.

What music from other artists are currently always with you, and how do you see your night going when you’re with us?

Bruce, Wah Wah Wino, C.A.R., P Relief, SFV Acid, Niagara, General Ludd to name a few.

I’m quite looking forward to the night at Jæger. Øyvind’s a good laugh so I hope to share some good laughs.

 

Ni kjappe med Alwanzatar

Alwanzatar er et enmanns party-orkester for utenomjordiske kulturkvelder, huleraves og innvielser av romskip. Musikken lages i hjemmestudioet Holy Space! på Lindeberg i Oslo, på gamle båndopptagere og et stort antall analoge og digitale synther. På konsert spiller eneste medlem Krizla fløyte, synthesizere, sequencere, trommemaskiner og loopere, mikset på stedet gjennom tung båndekko og effekter. Musikken er inspirert av magick, meditasjon, acid house, dub og krautrock. Siden starten i 2012, har Alwanzatar gitt ut en håndfull kassetter og spilt konserter over hele Norge. Debutalbumet “Heliotropiske Reiser” ble gitt ut i 2017 på Apollon Records, til undring og begeistring fra mange kritikere. Det ble fulgt opp i oktober 2018 med albumet “Fangarmer Gjennom Tid og Rom”.

Vi tok en prat med Alwanzatar innfor konserten på Den Gyldne Sprekk 4.desember.

Tredje gangen på Sprekken og Jaeger det må feires! Hva skal du gjøre denne gangen?

Nå tar jeg space-elementet fra Spectral Haze og okkultismen fra Tusmørke så langt ut jeg kan! Det blir en sinnsyk rigg av synther og trommemaskiner, kabler overalt og blinkende lys. Livesettet mitt er som å se under panseret på et dårlig vedlikeholdt romskip, sammen med en ritualmagiker/psykedelisk mekaniker som prøver å fikse det ved hjelp av fløytespill.

Du er kjent som ene i Momrakatakk. Hvor lenge har du hatt dette prosjektet?

Alwanzatar har holdt på seriøst siden 2012, med å spille inn tapes og legge ut låter på Soundcloud. Før det var det litt i det små med elektroniske eksperimenter og påkallelser. Første album på ordentlig plate kom i fjor. Jeg har eid theremin og båndekko siden 90-tallet og brukt elektroniske ting i prog og psykedelia lenge, men ikke som noe eget prosjekt før de siste seks-sju årene.

Du har mange spennede titler på dine sanger?

Fordelen med å jobbe hovedsakelig instrumentalt, er at du kan gi låtene skikkelig fete titler uten å måtte følge opp med en skikkelig fet tekst. Jeg beskriver med titlene hva sangene ser ut som for meg når jeg prøver å forestille meg noe visuelt til lyden.

Vi føler at mange av sangerne kunne vart musikk inspirert av Theodor Severin Kittelsen  og svenske John Bauer som Juan Atkins eller Ravemusikk ifra 90 talet. Er det noe andre kunstnærer som inspirerar?

Jeg er veldig inspirert av skogen der jeg bor, på Lindeberg, som møter blinkingen fra flyene, helikoptrene og lysene fra industri og blokker i Groruddalen, så både Bauer og Kittelsen passer, men også H.R. Giger og Pushwagner er inspirasjonskilder. Musikalsk er jeg inspirert av Bo Hansson, Phuture, the Orb, Cluster, Harmonia, Tangerine Dream og Lee Perry. Ravemusikk fra nittitallet er klart en inspirasjon, ting jeg har hørt på fest opp gjennom, på DJ-sett rundt forbi, masse greier jeg ikke vet hva heter. Jeg har alltid likt jungle og drum n’bass og fikk en ny interesse for å dra ut og danse da dubstep kom til Bergen rundt 2006, med Benga og Skream og sånt, og fester i bunkeren på Nordnes/Teknikkerkroen. Dubstep fikk meg til å teste ut theremin med ringmodulator for ordentlig dyp bass. Da sprengte jeg PA-anlegget i øvingslokalet.

Hva kan du fortelle meg om instrumentene dine på “Fangarmer Gjennom Tid og Rom” albumet?

Det er en haug med synther og trommemaskiner jeg har samla opp de siste årene, alt er koblet sammen og synkronisert, stort sett ferdig programmert, men med mye variasjon av filtere, ADSR og transponeringer underveis. Det er mye jobb med å mikse ting ut og inn, det spilles inn på bånd hele greia på en gang, så det er fort at ting må gjøres om igjen. Så er det pålegg med fløyte, theremin, mellotron og diverse synther etterpå, siden jeg ikke fikser å spille alt samtidig. Det som går inn i mikseren og videre til bånd er Korg MS-20, Arp Odyssey og/eller Behringer D styrt av en Arturia Beatstep Pro, som igjen er styrt av en Boss RC-300 looper der jeg har en haug med nye og gamle loops av alt mulig rart, gjerne kule patcher eller melodilinjer fra mellotron eller fløyte. Dette er synkronisert med Korg EMX-1, Volca Beats og Arturia Drumbrute, så er det Cyclone TT-303 for acid og gjerne en Boss Syb-5 på Volca Beats for enda mer acid. Jeg liker å legge et par pedaler inn med ulike filtere for å holde ting møkkete og stereopanorert litt hulter til bulter. Selve mikseren har RE-201 space echo og Mooger Fooger Cluster Flux koblet til, for dyp ekko og flanger/phaser effekter. Det er veldig mye kobling og knotting, jeg legger mye vekt på å lete etter oppsett som får mest mulig til å jobbe sammen på en gang, og finne ut hvor jeg kan få en ledig hånd til å vri på enda en knott mens alt det andre går.

Er bergstroll fredlige?

Bergtroll er ikke fredelige, de er alltid ute etter å snike seg innpå noen for å ta dem. Men de er så store og tunge at det ikke fungerer særlig bra. Du hører dem lenge før de kommer, som en illevarslende trasking nede i fjellet

Er det noe forskjell på Bergstroll og internett troll? Hvordan skal man forsvare seg mot de?

Eneste måten å forsvare seg mot bergtroll er å snu og løpe. Hvis ikke blir du spist eller pult og tvunget til å bli boende med dem inne i fjellet. Eller pult, tvunget til å bo med dem inne i fjellet, og så spist. Troll på internett er litt det samme, hvis ikke du holder deg unna, tar de deg til fange og tar mange år av livet ditt og spiser deg opp eller puler deg, men i en mer overført betydning.

Hvordan finner du på så kule titler? Vi gleder oss til denne giggen!!!

Takk for det! Jeg finner på titler ved å tenke på sangen og gå for det første jeg kommer på.

Hvor får jeg kjøpt den nye musikken?  

Musikken er tilgjengelig fra bandcamp, https://alwanzatar.bandcamp.com/ eller i platesjapper, f.eks. Big Dipper eller Tiger. Jeg tar også med meg noen skiver og kassetter til Jaeger!