Too Much Of A Good Thing...

As the days pass me by, I’ve been paying more and more thought towards how the electronic music scene has progressed since I first became a part of it. Truly the age we live in is far removed from the days of old, and how we listen and share music is far more liberal now than it has ever been in the past. Seeing as though the last effort I posted was rather length in nature, I’m going to try and be a little more concise with my words this month… but only a little. The only real point I want to get across is that I would like you to stop and think a bit yourself (no doubt you probably already do) about how you feel about life as a Dance music enthusiast (or a music enthusiast full stop) in the digital era.

It’s no secret that I’m currently enjoying somewhat of a renaissance of vinyl, and indeed of classic Dance music altogether. I’ve got my own little night (which I’m not going to shamelessly plug here) that I run in my home town, that satisfies my quirky fascination for digging up and re-airing forgotten records from the halcyon days of electronica. Hand on heart, I adore the feeling of rifling through a record box and pulling out a 12” slice of wax, then dropping it onto the platter and placing needle to groove. There’s something about the process that CD’s or laptops will never equal in my eyes, even though my knees are once again smashed to pieces from lugging an aluminium case with 30 records in it from one end of town to the other. Naturally this is just my preference, and we each have our own. Bollocks to the Hawtin-esque “this format is better than the other” argument etc etc etc… If you really have nothing better to do than moan about the way a DJ is providing the music, then might I suggest you voice your opinions somewhere else? Like the M25...

Moving forward, my renewed enthusiasm for all things old has led to a handful of comparisons being drawn between production output at the tail end of the 90’s, and the output of today. Back when Pioneer only made large Hi-Fi’s, the only way for a producer to get his or her music out there was to undertake the arduous and expensive task of getting a select batch of records pressed to vinyl, and handing them out at gigs/sheepishly signing them over to record stores in the faint hope that they would be sold. To put out an EP cost a packet, and there was no guarantee it would be signed. The sheer effort and financial outlay it required to get your music from the bedroom to the nightclub acted as quality control, and only those who absolutely knew they had something worth signing made it past the early stages. These days, any halfwit with a PC can saturate the internet with a plethora of unreleased albums or hastily patched together remixes. It would be hypocritical of me to say that I had never used up any server space myself, as I too have a couple of tracks uploaded to Soundcloud (they’re nowhere near what I would deem as being release-worthy, hence why I don’t shout about them). What I don’t do however, is upload any and every thing that I happen to have spent 3 minutes working on, in some misguided attempt to ‘get my name out there’. Currently I don’t believe anyone I follow on Soundcloud does either, which is quite probably the reason I follow them in the first place. Unfortunately there is a great number of aspiring DVS1’s out there who seem to be under the false pretence that spamming the bollocks off their long-suffering fan base will fast-track them to a life of CLR releases and Fabric bookings. If this applies to you, then I do believe I am well within reason to point out that YOU are the problem.

Since we live in an age where finding new and (most importantly) interesting music has never been more difficult, I am with increasing frequency finding the prospect of a Beatport/Soundcloud trawl virtually unbearable. Gone are the days whereby I would feverishly anticipate a Saturday trip to the local record store… and it would take all day. Instead of passing up on a social life to spend 12 hours up to my neck in stacks of white labels and deleted first pressings, I’m now at the stage where even an hour of clicking is akin to being asked to take the food bin out. I’m fairly positive I’m not alone in this view as well. Now that the flood gates have well and truly been blown apart in the wake of the digital onslaught, the veritable tidal wave of shit music has left so many of us feeling jaded and disillusioned. Sadly I believe it is too late to moderate what is uploaded, and in any case who would decide it, and what right would they have to do so? Besides, trying to restrain technological progress doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that civilisation should have any involvement with. Instead of adopting such a narrow-minded view on the subject, I believe it is far more beneficial to try and work with the problem, and exploit the more positive aspects of having an abundance of stream-able music at our fingertips. Rather than viewing sites like Soundcloud as the intimidating hideout of the talent-free and the soulless, I have adjusted my search habits to seek out live mixes and to sign up for podcasts from those who have proved their worth in the past. Approaching the hunt from this end of the field seems to have strengthened my resolve, and (be it on a commute to work, a simple stroll into town, or a pissed-out-of-my-tree stumble back from the pub) spending some time actually taking in music has diluted the grief of the record-rummage, and resulted in a dramatic increase in those unbeatable “must find out what that tune is called when I get home” moments…

As DJ’s, and more importantly as lovers of music, surely that’s what it’s all about anyway?

"Achtung Baby" - Berlin Report

It’s hard to accurately describe the feeling of stepping off a plane into a city that you’d heard was harbouring some of the finest clubbing on the planet. It’s like an overwhelming mixture of anticipation, excitement, and apprehension... anticipation and excitement at the prospect of finally getting a first-hand account of the experiences had by those who had been before you, and apprehension at the thought of A) allowing enough time to take in everything you’d promised yourself, and B) whether the nightclub authorities would grant you access to their respectable sonic temples. 

Naturally, one does not simply turn up at a city like Berlin without having done sufficient research prior to flight. That sort of approach is usually reserved for pauper-frequenting culture-dumpsters like Magaluf and Ayia Napa (and, to some extent, Ibiza these days). Don’t get me wrong, the afore-mentioned holiday destinations are perfect if all you’re after is a 10-day kerb crawl with your mates, and not everybody is as much of a muso snob as those constituting our Germany-bound ensemble. However, for this particular excursion (our man Kieran’s stag do), there was but one thing on the agenda: Techno. With Berlin being regarded as the mecca of Techno these days, it’s perhaps no surprise to hear that the Germans are extremely keen to guard what they have spent so many years establishing. Clubs like Berghain, Watergate, and Tresor have been known deny you entry based on whatever reason they deem justified... be it the way you’re dressed, the amount of people you’re with, your attitude, even your gender. To most out-of-town folk, this may come across as pretentious and rude, but it’s a simple fact of life in Berlin and there’s little point contesting it unfortunately. 

With that in mind, I thought it best to play it safe, and packed my suitcase to bursting point with attire to give me the appearance of a fully-fledged member of the Technorati (or auditioning E4-presenting bellend.... your choice). First port of call was to be a small nightclub called Chantel (?) to catch a friend laying down some records to a gathering of homosexual partygoers on the other side of town. Ordinarily I wouldn’t bring sexuality into the equation when describing a clubs demographic, but when you take into consideration the fact that the poster for the night had a picture of a naked woman with her penis hanging out, then my tone-setting intentions become a little clearer... I think it would be accurate to describe the clubbers as extremely liberal-minded. That aside, the atmosphere in the venue was amazing. I could safely say it had been a while since I had been to what I would describe as being a ‘proper underground party’ (even if, for the locals, it wasn’t). It felt like how I imagined the early days of clubbing must have been, with stylishly antique decor eschewing the usual cold wine-bar arrangements that have sadly become commonplace. The music provided by our German contact was nothing short of top-drawer as well, and it was a pleasure to watch him work the room with his brand of no-nonsense House, on nothing but a mixer and a pair of 1210’s. Certainly it was extremely refreshing to witness, in a world where many DJs have a penchant for turning up to a gig with enough equipment to make NASA blush. We stayed at the venue til the early hours and headed home at about 5am so as not to burn ourselves out on the first night. 

The following day brought with it the rest of our crew, as the Luton lads arrived shortly after Dave (as a result of a missed flight debacle which I can’t be arsed to go into). With our group at full capacity, tonight’s destination was the legendary Panoramabar, to catch John Tejada play live. This was to be the night I had most been anticipating, yet sadly it was also to be my first taste of Berlin’s selective brand of door government. With three members of the stag’s assembly already inside (including, thankfully, the stag), and no queue whatsoever at the door, confidences were high and we paired up (rule of thumb: don’t attempt entry into said clubs if you happen to be in any group larger than 2). Strolling towards the door, there appeared to be a large-shaped man carrying the appearance of someone who spent his spare time running an abattoir... the sort of abattoir that specialised in ‘taking care’ of bodies that the mafia couldn’t be bothered disposing of. Certainly not the sort of accommodating chap who would take kindly to any ill-advised attempt to relate to him on any level, so we felt it best to shut the fuck up, and await the inevitable judgement which would surely be passed upon us for trying to walk through the door he so militantly guarded. He signalled us to wait, and spent what felt like a week looking us up and down, whilst he patiently stroked his chin... and then it happened. He signalled for us to remove ourselves from the line and try our luck elsewhere. We didn’t argue. Instead we met up with the slightly-deflated Luton brigade (who had also been denied entry to Watergate due to there being “too many man” inside) and headed to Tresor to utilise the guestlist passes we had kindly been offered from Alex, the DJ at Chantel. Entry came as sweet relief and we dug in for a night of whatever they had on (there’s only so much refusal a man can take before he settles for the first thing to let him in, as most guys will testify). The basement (which looks like a nuclear bomb shelter) was hammering out an odd blend of ropey Breakbeat and uninspiring Techno, so we relocated upstairs and spent the rest of the night enjoying some pretty good Tech-House at the hands of TicTacToe/ConnectFour label-bosses Lars Gregers and Patrick Bateman. Night salvaged, as they say. 

Awaking at around 2pm the following day (standard if you’re serious about taking on Berlin’s nightlife), we were informed of Tejada’s predictable excellence, and that Sascha Rydell was still every bit as pant-wettingly incompetent as previously experienced in London. Apparently, calling his mixing dexterity a perpetual trainwreck is in fact an insult to trainwrecks. That in itself is probably worthy of paying him a visit if he happens to be trainwrecking at a club near you. Inevitably with all the talk of Panoramabar, conversation drifted toward our second assault on the club, only this time for Berghain – the epicentre of German clubbing that Panoramabar is attached to. Len Faki and Dave Clarke were on the line-up, and DVS1 was rumoured to be dropping by for a spin, so there was everything to play for. Personally, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to leave Germany until i’d seen the inside of this converted power station, and spend the preceding hours mulling over all possible strategies for currying favour with the notoriously fickle bouncers. After much deliberation, we headed out but in different pairs this time to try and avoid any familiarity issues from the previous nights rejection. Reggy, Dars and Nick (our Dutch contingent, who were also regulars in Berlin) were optimistic that there would be no problems tonight, and rightfully stated that we could always try again later if at first we didn’t succeed. With the club remaining open for the best part of 2 days, there is always the option to repeatedly try your luck, so long as you leave a decent 3-4 hour gap between efforts (or enough time for them to sufficiently forget you). Buoyed by 3 pints of Warsteiner, and dressed head to toe in black (recommended), we made our play... 

After progressing through a lengthy queue (which, oddly enough, only took about 15 minutes – German efficiency, innit) my slightly-more-experienced wingman Pagey and I reached the front. The last time i’d been this nervous was the visit to the urinals at Chantel. Three German lads just in front of us went up for judgement. Again the bouncer gave them the same milk-curdling stare and quietly contemplated whether he liked their haircuts or not. He shook his head and gave them the same signal he’d given me the night before, as they stepped out of the line and wandered off into the night. Suddenly I was hit by a huge wave of optimism as I realised this could be our chance, and my stomach tightened. We approached the door and he asked us how many in our group, for which I answered in the most piss-poor attempt at a German accent “Zwei, bitte...”. He looked us up and down and looked towards one of his workmates who nodded..... and then turned back and waved us both inside. I was fucking elated, and it was all I could do to retain composure as we walked into Berghain. 

Inside, I was greeted with a deafening roar, much akin to listening to a jet engine at full grunt. After asking what it was, Page smiled and simply said “That’s Berghain, mate”. Walking up the stairs into the cathedral-like main room and suddenly the sound crystallised and we were presented with possibly the purest of club setups that i’ve ever seen. No visuals were apparent, no glorified DJ booth, and no overblown pyrotechnic shows anywhere to be seen. In their place was probably the biggest Funktion One sound system that cocooned the elevated dancefloor and drove sound into the centre like an acoustic battering ram. Blue lighting strafed the room from the lights mounted in the rafters, and panels of light mounted in the far wall fired off in sequence. For a first-time visit, I was sufficiently blown away by the drama of it all. We took a quick tour of the place, including a stroll through Panoramabar, and past the arty anus pictures (you havn’t lived until you’ve seen a 5ft high mural of the inside of someone’s ass). After grabbing a drink, we headed back into the main room and sidestepped the walkway down to the Dungeon (seriously dodgy bumming bunker where i’ve been informed “there is no safe word”), meeting up with some of the others. I can safely say i’ve never been anywhere like it before, and as I stood there at the balcony overlooking the Panoramabar dancefloor at 3am whilst a young couple casually had sex on the sofa next to me, I could see why it had become renowned as one of the best nightclubs in the world. 

By the time I was done listening to Faki and Clarke rattling the brickwork at 12noon the following day, I was already thinking about how much I was looking forward to returning one day soon.

Who Stole The Soul?

Another month, another batch of beats from my own personal crate. What with the weather seemingly getting warmer (got away lightly this winter, methinks) and the longer days slowly returning (I fucking hate leaving work when it’s dark) i’m sure i’m not alone in allowing the odd thought of summer to drift into my subconscious. Let’s get real, everything’s better in summer. The music sounds warmer, the drinks taste better, and the girls wear less. Anyone remember that Mars advert campaign a few years ago revolving around words that make you smile? I do, and i’d like to add one to the pile: ‘Terrace’......which leads me nicely to:

Nolan – Thief [Nurvous Records]

Absolute belter of a summertime Houser. Reminds me of the sort of thing Switch or Jesse Rose were hammering not so long ago, and very much like the sort of thing the impeccable Room With A View imprint continue to push to this day. Newly released on Nurvous with a full complement of equally endearing remixes, it’s the latest in a line of top drawer House cuts to resonate from the sister label of landmark New York label Nervous. You can hear the city’s unrestrained funk pouring out of every frequency band, and although February’s cold spell hasn’t quite released its grasp on us just yet, this should do rather nicely until it does.

Ryan Thompson – Come To The House (Tom Budden remix) [Cubism]

Been a big fan of Thompson and Budden’s output over the last few years. Between the two of them, they’ve really slogged it out to showcase their dexterity in the studio, and 9 times out of 10 they create the sort of floor fodder that decimates nightclubs. This effort on Cubism is no exception, with Ryan’s driving original mix being given some tough love from Budden, to create a chunky late night weapon with more than a slight dab of Garage-style rolling bassline. The ensemble piece sounds fit to burst, with synth stabs filtering through in the breakdown, and orchestral stabs peppering the groove to lend it a dramatic feel. If like me you’re a fan of the recent amalgamation of 2-step Garage and straight-up House that appears to be rearing its head across clubland (a-la Mosca/TEED/MCDE etc) then you’ll find much to love within this belting EP from two of House’s most trusted authorities.

N’To – The Sand Dealer [Form]

I’ve only recently noticed the oddly named N’To, and whilst I struggle to pronounce his name when people ask me “what’s this tune?”, he is actually one of my favourite discoveries. I purchased the entire EP of his ‘Stupid’ release (something I almost never do), such was the strength of the tracks included on it, and if anyone’s curious as to why then by all means check out the latest Kai-Zen podcast (mixed by yours truly, with the Worakls remix included about halfway through... shameless plug I know but i’m not sorry). Back on point though, the man has a seemingly effortless knack of crafting ethereal Progressive tracks in much the same vein as Dominik Eulberg, Dosem, Marc Marzenit, or Guy J. This track is one of many that I could have picked to showcase where he’s at musically, but give it a listen and you’ll see what I mean. A great shout if you’re from the Bedrock school of thoughtful House music.

The Fear Ratio – Morning Blues (Plaid remix) [Blueprint]

Went to Fabric at the weekend, and before we set off, my good mate Chris Page made sure I listen to a slice of his newly-acquired vinyl. He seemed pretty chuffed about this particular release, as it was a new collaboration between James Ruskin and Mark Broom. After dropping the stylus, there then followed a selection of glitchy tripped-up electronica that was the very definition of ‘DJ unfriendly’. Off-kilter rhythms and varying beat patterns bounced all over the place, and it was immediately clear that this new project from two of Techno’s most highly-regarded artists was a foray into the more experimental vision that both producers obviously share. This track ‘Morning Blues’ is taken from a remix package on Ruskin’s own Blueprint label, and believe me when I say you can’t dance to it. What you can do however, is listen and enjoy the deliciously challenging production, and then keep your ear to the ground (not literally) because i’ve got a strong feeling the best is yet to come.

New Time, New Place

Greetings and salutations, oh devotees of dance.

You’ve probably noticed we’ve undergone cosmetic surgery since the last update. We felt that we were due a facelift after 2 years (which, on the internet, is a lifetime), and have given the blog a fresh new outlay for 2012. Hopefully it’s a little more pleasing on the eyes, and a lot more user friendly, so by all means feel free to wander round aimlessly and peruse at your leisure... Oh, and click ‘Join’. You should definitely do that.

Seeing as though we’re at the tail end of the ‘season of giving’, and because we’re the most generous selfless chaps you could possibly hope to take home to show your parents, we’re having a bit of an “Everything Must Go” blitz to entice you into our world (with, admittedly, the ulterior motive of persuading you to stay). To kick off this year, we’re giving away not one, not two, but FOUR FREE TRACKS from our stable... Truly, we are the good Samaritans of electronic music. So hold off punching in your much-abused credit card details into Beatport for just a minute, and help yourselves to a slice of Techno pie on us:

001 #

Leading the charge is our main man Roberto, who’s seen more action just lately than Jordan’s divorce lawyer. His brand of Detroit-influenced Techno has been garnering him praise from luminary artists like Rachmad, L Sessions, Liebing, and Jamie Anderson, so it’s fitting that we offer up a collaboration effort that proves it. This track from Anderson is a showcase of what’s in store for the full remix package when it lands later this year, including a ‘Groove’ mix that Rob crafted as a companion to this. Until then however, this is Rob’s take on Jamie’s track ‘Inova’.

Jamie Anderson - Inova (Roberto's Dub Mix): http://www.mediafire.com/?uk6cxr4pug2q1k7

002#

Following closely behind, Chris Page is dealing out dark glitchy basslines like they’re going out of fashion. ‘Reatch’ (ten points if you can name the reference) caters strictly for those of you who only come alive in the latest hours of the night, and his stripped-back signature sound is all over this weapon. Certainly the sort of sinister electronica that would have the likes of Axwell running home to mum, and for that at least, you’ve gotta love it.

Chris Page – Reatch (Original mix): http://www.mediafire.com/?q1yfz1hviujchca

003#

As Mr Page’s oft-wingman (Kontrol Room), and a talented DJ in his own right, Dave Johnys has also been kind enough to step up to the plate to donate one of his creations to the digital goody bag. ‘Administration’ was crafted a while ago but has been recently tweaked to fall in line with his more recent output. Driving techy rhythms are the order of the day, so if you’re after some peak-time floor fodder, give this some of your time.

Dave Johnys – Administration (Original mix): http://www.mediafire.com/?p4gjj1njc1vnle2

004#

Last but not least, one for the Tech-House faithful. I stitched this together last year with the sole purpose of winning favour at a local festival, that both Dave and myself were due to play at. Sadly the event got cancelled due to the local authorities not seeing eye to eye with the organisers, and i’ve never really had a chance to road test it. Admittedly it’s probably better suited to open-air raves, as opposed to grimy warehouse all-nighters, but if that’s your vice then be my guest.

Technasia vs. X-Press 2 – Movementizum (Andy James bootleg): http://www.mediafire.com/?ri67k2cp3rppx9h