Main | February 2006 »

Copy & Taste

Sometimes I wonder about people who make music and their grip on reality: maybe they need to have a tenuous relationship with our world to create and produce, but over the past year or so, there seems to have been a sea change in the mindset of many producers.
More often than not at the end of an interview I get asked the dreaded question: "So can I see the article before you send it to the magazine?" This, as one producer quite bluntly put it, was to make sure that I hadn't got any of my facts wrong, yet it amounts to a form of censorship.
It's a ridiculous request: imagine the reaction if I had asked the same producers, 'so, can I hear the album before it's released and decide on what tracks can be used and what ones can't', or if I jumped into a DJ booth or a stage and started to decide what records, CDs or digital files the performer was allowed to choose?
The worrying thing is that most people who ask this question aren't big names or prima donnas - Jeff Mills is a good example of a proper prima donna, a man who bitches about having to provide one-line answers to innocuous questions, but that merits another post alltogether! - but well-respected underground dance producers.
The most extreme example of this behaviour happened at the start of last year, when I interviewed New York producer Abe Duque for his album, 'So Underground It Hurts'. The interview went reasonably well - although it was obvious that he had a problem with the way his career had stalled for a few years until Hell got him on board to produce 'NY Muscle' - but at the end of the interview, he said to me, 'so man, can you make sure you email me the piece before you send it in', and my reply was that this was not common practice and that I would have to check with my editor in advance. His response was 'man, all the other magazines let me see interviews before they print them, if I had known that you wouldn't let me see it, I wouldn't have done this interview'.
I didn't bother to point out to him that if we had known that he was such an egomaniac that we wouldn't have done the interview either, that in the grand scheme of the magazine, that Abe Duque was about as important as a fly landing on a dog turd, or that the other interviews he purported to have censored didn't seem to exist.
Instead I made an impassioned argument about the codes and ethics of journalism (yes, some of us adhere to them!) and he backed off with sullen acceptance. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had worked closely with Hell that he made such demands - to be fair, Hell never made such a request - but whatever the explanation, please Abe, and everyone else, back off and treat us with the same respect that we afford to you!Duque

(Dahl)back In The Day

Still in the middle of one of those all too irregular record collection culls which help to weed out some chaff, but also afford the opportunity to re-discover some great old releases. This time, I've found a great Jesper Dahlback release. It's funny the way a producer's back catalogue suddenly captures the attention again: I had a conversation about Dahlback's Svek releases a few weeks ago with Sunil Sharpe at the Junction night - good fun by the way, and in Soul 28, which, depending on which version of events you believe, is about to become the latest victim of Dublin clubland's shift to the bland and the homogenous or has been given a stay of execution and is still one of the city's few intimate venues that supports techno nights - and he was raving (not literally) about old records like 'Brommage Dub' and how he felt that they were superior to a lot of the current crop of critically acclaimed Maurizio pastiches.
So when Dahlback's 'Snorkelmannen O Hans Vanner' (probably something to do with diving, although my Swedish is pretty rusty) appeared in a batch of twelves that included UR's 'Transitons' (great!) and some UR-inspired European techno by The Youngsters and Sonic Insomniac (not so great and consequently banished!), it felt like I was meeting an old friend I hadn't seen or heard from in years.
Cari Lekebusch co-produced the record as Mr Barth, so unsurprisingly it's considerably faster and somewhat harder than its modern day equivalent, at about 128-129bpm. But the sounds are so warm and rich and raw, the snaking Chicago bassline and ominous chords on the A-side, the typically gloomy Scandinavian chord progression on the flip, the curling, weeping 303s and the beats so solidly powerful yet imperfect and flawed that the passage of time has been kind to it and, nearly ten years later, it sounds fresher than a lot of Jesper's prolific cousin, John's work. Not sure where you could purchase any of the Svek material of Dahlback's 90s work now, but maybe GEMM, Amazon or even Juno could still have some of the back catalogue.