I usually don’t mix my personal life with that of my Headphone Commute persona (although, arguably, it’s always one and the same), but this time it feels slightly appropriate. A nasty strain of flu has put me out of commission for almost a week, and so I’ve been away from words, from music, and from you. Today feels like a struggle just to sit up, hit play and focus into the glow of monitors. Yet somehow the music holds the key to that once felt sense of normalcy, and so I strive to cultivate the energy within, the energy that comes from sound. Today’s sonic trip comes courtesy of Piotr Cisak, a Gdansk (Poland) based artist with works on Crónica media label, Cruel Nature Records, and an upcoming cassette release on Twin Spring Records, titled De Memoria Et Reminiscentia due out on April 1st. Here’s to music being a single continuously morphing constant in our lives! I hope that you’ll enjoy and support the featured artists!

Cover Art Photography by Michael Deis

kepayew.prima-materia.com

[ STREAM ] | [ DOWNLOAD ] | [ PODCAST ] | [ iTUNES ]

It’s time to get excited again, kids, because Unsound Festival is coming back to New York! It’s always nice to attend a world renown festival, and Unsound is no exception, given its long running history and deep roots in electronic music, but it’s even nicer when such an event is taking place in your back yard! Some will argue that New York is one ongoing music festival twenty-four-seven, but there’s just something about a particular collection of artists descending upon my city after some dark and frigid months. It’s the entire vibe, the familiar faces, the day-time talks and art installations that tie it all together, and of course, it’s all about the music!

Unsound is a Polish festival launched by Mat Schulz, taking place in Kraków towards the end of October every year since 2003. In February of 2010 Unsound expanded to New York and later even extended its offerings as far as London, Adelaide and Minsk. Showcasing many European (and Polish) acts, Unsound ties together many diverse genres, from ambient to noise to black metal to dub, house and techno: “What unites them is a shared sense of aesthetic investigation and appreciation for curious ears.“ This year’s edition is presented by Fundacja Tone and the Polish Cultural Institute New York.

One of the most fascinating presentations this year is Ephemera : A Synesthetic Installation Combining Scent, Sound, and Visual Elements. This is a collection of olfactory compositions by Geza Schoen based on musical resonances and reverberations from the sounds created by Ben Frost, Tim Hecker and Steve Goodman (that’s Kode9). The sonic palettes are reinterpreted to create scents, appropriately titled Noise, Drone and Bass. Here’s more from co-curator of the project, Małgorzata Płysa:

Scent and sound are both the most ephemeral of senses – without having a visible physical form, an image attached to them, they have the power to trigger emotions, uncover memories and move other senses. Having been working with various types of sound, often abrasive and physical, we have decided to try and blur the lines, adding sense of smell and discovering what the effects could be.

But back to music! This year my ears will be exposed to the sounds of Oren Ambarchi with Sinfonietta Cracovia, Ital & Halal, Suzanne Ciani & Piętnastka. One of the most exciting performances that I’m looking forward to will be that by Demdike Stare, as well as Sean Canty and Andy Votel’s collaboration as Neotantrik, and… Canty will even find the time to play as Miles at The Bunker – that’s going to be on pounding night, to include performances by Leisure Muffin and Porter Ricks (that’s Thomas Köner and Andy Mellwig). There’s also a night where Inga Copeland (one half of Hype Williams with Dean Blunt) will play on the same stage with DeepChord (yes, that’s Rod Modell!!!), Huerco S.  and Wilhelm Bras.

Not counting the names I’ve already picked out, there are plenty of debuts and showcases by many unknown [to me] names, which will hopefully introduce me to some fascinating and eclectic sounds! There are also plenty of talks and free events, among them a listening session with Thomas Köner, a dialogue with Suzanne Ciani and Andy Votel (co-founder of Finders Keepers) and a panel discussion on Network Theory. Oh, and if you’re a loyal subscriber to the UK’s WIRE magazine, the April physical copy will come with a special CD featuring 11 tracks from the artists performing at Unsound!

Stay tuned for an exclusive Interview with Mat Schulz!

unsound.pl

The Angry Child is the latest full length work from UK based artist, musician, and programmer Mark Harris which has been released by n5MD. It is a serene, evocative, and polished album of pure ambient music that can be appreciated just on the hearing, but it is best enjoyed with an appreciation of his creative process along with the narrative that surrounds the making of the record. What is unique about the way Harris works is his evolutionary approach which combines generative processes, composition, and improvisation. The process begins with amassing a pool of raw sonic material – generated sounds, processed samples, and field recordings – and then organically improvising with and reworking it until a finished product emerges. Harris likens the end product to an iceberg with “…the final work as the bit which floats above the surface, and under the surface is the mass of unused material which never see the light of day.”

With this modus operandi, the same raw material can yield multiple pieces, each with a different mood and perspective which reflects the mind set of the artist at the time of creation, and that where specific narrative comes in. As Harris tells it, the narrative behind The Angry Child goes back to the final stages of his work on his previous n5MD release, An Idea Of North / Learning To Talk (2012), where he worked on a series of compositions that coalesced into the title track and then returned to them months later only to rediscover much untapped potential. This discovery led to the decision to build a complete album around that pool of material. Lest all this sound too scientific, there is a strong emotional element in the improvisation and those emotions convey through the music to the listener. About the six pieces on The Angry Child, Harris says:

“I was stuck by how all of the pieces were evocative of the landscape of rural Norfolk in the UK where I spent a lot of time when I was a boy, an endless flat landscape where the tide would take the sea out from miles and at times the sea / the sky / and the weather all gradually merge together. I remember how as a boy I would spend hours sitting on a small hill looking out to sea watching the light / clouds and weather gradually change… I hope the listener catches something of the feeling of that place and time by listening to this work.”

I believe Harris has succeeded admirably in conveying just what he describes. The music on The Angry Child indeed evokes a grand sense of place and, through a nostalgic artistic lens, manages to capture many emotions experienced during youth. Harris reminds us childhood is sometimes and isolated and uneasy place (‘the tributary_losing your way’ and ‘in spite of everything_the night that made the darkness’). Sometimes it is full of painful growth and regrets (‘the angry child’ and ‘everything i did was wrong’). At other times it is full of mystery and wonder (‘before you wake_or the fool who mimics the sun’) and, not to be overlooked, love and gratitude (‘running forward_ to the object of ones affection’).

All in all, The Angry Child is a very satisfying and polished outing for Mark Harris and would make a fine addition to any ambient music collection. With full appreciation of the manner it was created and the narrative surrounding it, the album should yield many enjoyable listening sessions, especially if you take the time to find the stillness and inner child within yourself when you lend your ears to it.

cargocollective.com/markharrismusic | n5md.com

Words by Brian Housman of Stationary Travels

Darren Cunningham‘s latest (or is it really last?) offering as Actress is a dense, hazy, and nearly hallucinogenic stroll through the foggy streets of South London, and indeed Cunningham’s abstract interpretation of his mind, titled Ghettoville. Two years ago, Actress released his third full length, R.I.P, putting this character to rest, and now that the image is deceased, how does it feel to be within the cold and dark walls of the void? Perhaps the answer lies in Ghettoville, which, after being properly released by Cunningham’s own Werkdiscs label, gets picked up by Ninja Tune, since its interest piqued in this particular sound with a three-track Silver Cloud EP in 2012.

The album takes a long time to reveal itself, to sort-of grow on you, like a stubborn weed, choking out the impatient and inept. My first impression of the music was fairly neutral, at times even dipping into the negative scale of appreciation. What exactly is this? What is Cunningham trying to say? The rhythm is gravely beyond any lo-fi aesthetic, hardly resounding through the mono channel of a damaged speaker, at times repeating to no end with a single, seemingly simple beat, sixteen, thirty-two, and sixty-four bars at a time. Did Cunningham just fall asleep behind his drum-machine, or am I just too sober to drop out? Thick layers of hiss, slowed-down hip-hop samples, mired shuffles, dingy atmospheres pulled back into the corners of the stage, as if it’s all coming from within a can, dipped into an aquarium replete with grime.

Things finally begin to make sense when I give up on trying to decipher the sound—and let the clouds overtake the skies. Darkness sets in, and with the stormy winter weather (you know, the one where you almost wished it already snowed, instead of a sideways freezing rain pummeling your frigid clothes), the sounds of Ghettoville cut through the chilly bones. This isn’t really a brisk stroll through a sunny countryside, but rather a nightly crawl through dank streets where moss consumes decaying cigarettes among the cobblestones and tombs. And as the mind attempts to cling to a particular pattern, deciphering the hidden associations with remnants of London’s dance music, the melodies trail off, stumbling over their unquantised progression, diving below the murky slabs of sediment and debris, barely capable to gasp for air and its sustained life-force.

“Ghettoville is the bleached out and black tinted conclusion of the Actress image. Four albums in and the notes and compositions no longer contain decipherable language. The scripts now carry tears, the world has returned to a flattened state, and out through that window, the birds look back into the cage they once inhabited. Spitting flames behind a white wall of silence. The machines have turned to stone, data reads like an obituary to its user. A fix is no longer a release, it’s a brittle curse. Zero satisfaction, no teeth, pseudo artists running rampant, but the path continues.”

Taking off my headphones after this journey feels like I’m peeling off a space suit, and the world gets sucked back into existence with a loud thump, in all its surround-sound glory and always perfect audiophile quality. Some uneasiness still lurks in the background of my mind. Will I take the plunge again? Perhaps. Most likely I will find myself revisiting the streets of Ghettoville on cold and sombre days, to match my inner state of void with Cunningham’s abstruse and complex music. Meanwhile, even if the rumours of putting the Actress project to bed are true, you can keep your ears open for Cunningham’s few side projects. There is also a limited 5LP + 2CD “Black Elephant”-skinned boxset (plus a 40-page artbook) compiling the Hazyville and Ghettovillealbums out on Wekdiscs and Ninja Tune.

werkdiscs.com | ninjatune.net

Words by HC

I swear this winter has no end in sight! It’s as if we missed the warm seasons altogether, and the winter started all over again. Five months ago I actually looked towards the dark and cold months, so that I can immerse myself in music which is not so appropriate for a sunny day, but honestly, this is just too much! One of the albums that kept me cozy throughout this brittle stretch was the fourth full-length by Rafael Anton Irisarri, titled The Unintentional Sea. Released towards the end of 2013, this follow-up to the much acclaimed The North Bend (also appearing on the beloved Room40 operated by the one and only Lawrence English) was essentially the soundtrack to my morning commute. Even now, as I replay the album again, a shiver passes down my spine, as I recall my daily fight against incoming slush, the Hudson river rolling with huge hunks of ice, the frigid gust clawing at my cheeks already wet with tears caused by wind.

The music is neither dark ambient nor drone, instead it’s a heavily textured soundscape influenced by a portrait of a place. Shuffling clicks, humming machines, moaning organics – each make up a complex organism which slowly evolves, moving through the landscape like a thick morning haze. The unfolding is gradual, moody and glum, full of vinyl crackle, guitar-driven whirr, sparse piano keys and meticulously controlled atmospherics. And yet, each track maintains a characteristic melody – that something which is immediately recognizable when you hear it again. Add to that a conceptual interpretation and the hints of sensed dismay begin to gently come into focus. In the case of The Unintentional Sea, Irisarri’s inspiration comes from a story of the Salton Sea – “a failed river redirection to assist Californian agricultural development at the turn of the 20th century.” The progression of the album attempts to mimic the transformation of the men-made body of water.

“During the 1950s, this ecological disaster was seized and rebranded by corporate land developers, flipping it into a dream getaway destination for West Coast elites. Before long, record temperatures and a rising level of water mineralization led to the mass death of fish and other wildlife, and in turn so too did the resort town’s population, leaving behind a vast post-human deserted wasteland. This unintentional sea had given life and now has taken it away.”

I first came upon Irisarri’s work with his 2007 debut release on Miasmah, titled Daydreaming. I still play that album every few months. A year later, Irisarri migrated over to Ghostly International under a different guise (and a completely different genre) as The Sight Below. Throughout the years, he managed to maintain both projects with consistent output: Hopes And Past Desires (Immune, 2009), The North Bend (Room40, 2010), and Reverie (Immune, 2010) under his real name; and Glider (Ghostly, 2008), Murmur EP (Ghostly, 2009) and It All Falls Apart (Ghostly, 2010) as The Sight Below. But there is more! Along with Thomas Meluch (aka Benoit Pioulard), Irisarri formed Orcas, which got picked up by Morr Music in 2012. In fact, the group’s second album, Yearling, is due out in just a couple of days, on April 4th. Irisarri is also behind Seattle’s Substrata Festival, with its fourth edition happening on July 17-20. And more than anything, throughout the years, when I met him at various events, Irisarri became a very good friend.

Stay tuned for a new feature on Headphone Commute which we’ll kick off with Rafael!

irisarri.org | room40.org

Words by HC

Hey Mat! Really excited to have Unsound Festival back in New York. What prompted your decision to bring the festival back?
New York has become Unsound’s second home. We’ve developed a strong connection with the city, having done three festivals here. The idea was only ever to take a break rather than depart permanently, in order to concentrate on events at the Adelaide Festival in Australia and Unsound London. And so here we go again.

What are the roots of the festival and how would you say it has evolved over the years?
In terms of its Polish incarnation, Unsound started in 2003. For the first five years it was a local underground event, taking place in cellars throughout Krakow’s Old Town. It started to evolve further in 2008, not only in Krakow, but expanding to other countries. Doing something in New York in 2010 was a pivotal moment, as it made a statement about our intention to be both mobile and international. Although Unsound has become more known, we try to remain faithful to our roots and don’t necessarily see growth to mean constantly getting bigger in terms of size.

What is the main focus of the festival and how does it distinguish itself from many other international music events of the world?
For a start there’s that mobility, and this isn’t about franchising the name. We’re involved in every event we put on, putting it together with local curators, so it’s always a cross border experiment. Connected to that is our focus on commissioning new works, bringing together artists from different countries. You can find many of them in this year’s New York edition. Most important, though, is the programming itself. We strive to present work at Unsound that you won’t find elsewhere, especially in the particular combinations. This connects, in turn, with our aim to present artists from Poland and surrounding countries that are too often overlooked.

How would you say the exposure of Polish artists to American audience has influenced the output of your country?
It’s hard to measure such effects, but I think Unsound has had some impact on the Polish scene, by promoting its artists internationally. Whatever the reasons, the country’s music scene is very interesting and fertile right now, whether it be electronic, experimental, jazz, improv or club genres, developing in all sorts of original directions. The international music press seems to be starting to recognize this. It’s part of a larger blossoming of Polish art, film, etc.

What is the process of selection for the festival? How do you go about picking musicians representative of your vision?
That’s always a hard question to answer, as so much of it is based on instinct, but a lot of effort goes into shaping those programs, making something that feels both unique and relevant. And although there are artists who often perform at Unsound events around the world, the program differs according to the city and context. Here in New York, there’s a core team of curators in myself, Lawrence Kumpf and Andy Battaglia, working in tandem with the Polish Cultural Institute and Fundacja Tone – the festival’s presenters – as well as our production partner ISSUE Project Room, then programmers from The Bunker, the Atrium at Lincoln Center, BAMcinematek, Mutual Dreaming, Experimental Intermedia, Audio Visual Arts. The result is something that exists because of everyone’s input.

How do you personally find the time to run around and organize such a massive event, not to mention your Krakow, London, Adelaide and Minsk editions?
Laptop and wi-fi connections are crucial.

Do you remember your very first year? What were some of the lessons learned and has it become easier over the years?
After the first year in Krakow I never wanted to do it again. I lost money, and was stressed out of my brain. Now my hair has already gone grey, so there’s no longer any point in worrying about things you don’t have control over. That’s a basic lesson for anyone running a festival, I suppose.

What can we expect from Unsound festival in New York this year? Any specific performances you’re looking forward to yourself?
I think the whole program is interesting, and always find it hard to recommend particular things. As I said, we’re presenting a lot of works commissioned by Unsound, as well as special projects. Some were developed in Krakow – such as Demdike Stare’s “Concealed” – and others are presented for the first time here – like Ben Vida’s piece using Subpacs. Oren Ambarchi’s “Knots” presented with string players from Sinfonietta Cracovia is stunning, and is a must. There are some great Polish artists you’ve probably never heard of – but should – such as Stara Rzeka. And there’s the launch of our installation “Ephemera” combining scents and sounds to represent Noise, Drone and Bass. The scents are created by avant garde perfume Geza Schoen, with Ben Frost, Tim Hecker and Steve Goodman proving the music. But, like I say, everything in the program is worth checking out.

Unsound Festival New York runs on April 2 – 6
Read Unsound Festival New York 2014 : Preview

unsound.pl

Unsound New York is kicking off in just one day, and we’ve partnered with the festival to bring you this special live performance by Pietnastka, recorded at Unsound in Krakow 2012 (courtesy of Unsound Festival New York and NTS). Showcasing the eclectic sounds of Piotr Kurek, the cassette-born project explores some truly psychedelic territories with “woozy soundscapes and subcutaneous tensions crawling under the layers of nostalgic, fairytale-like haze.” This should definitely give you a taste for things to come at Unsound, truly representative of the flourishing multi-faceted Polish music scene. Check out Pietnastka’s free album, Dalia, which you can grab from freemusicarchive.org.

Catch Pietnastka performances this Thursday, April 3rd at David Rubenstein Atrium at Lincoln Center, as well as his show under real name, on Saturday, April 5th, at BAM Rose Cinema.

Be sure to read Unsound Festival New York 2014 : Preview

unsound.pl

[ STREAM ] | [ DOWNLOAD ] | [ PODCAST ] | [ iTUNES ]

Hi guys. I’ve followed your work for a while, but haven’t had the chance to cover your sound on Headphone Commute, so I hope we can start at the beginning. Where do you guys come from, what does the project name mean and how would you describe your sound?
We are located in Franconia, Bavaria, South Germany. A Laid back province town called Nuermberg. The first half of the name Boozoo Bajou comes from Boozoo Chavis a Zydeco artist from Lake Charles, Louisiana. I met him in the early 90s in a swamp Dancehall. Bajou is the wrong written version of bayous are extremely slow-moving streams or rivers in Louisiana.

Your latest studio album has a rather simple name – ’4′ – what was the inspiration behind the concept and its title?
It’s our fourth Album actually. For the track-names on the album, we used some nice sounding Island names from the north Atlantic, so we wanted the album title on the other side straight and simple. Also the reversed 4 from the concept artwork looked very good, that was also a good “symbol”.

The sound on 4 is even more organic, acoustic and dare I say ‘jazzy’ at times. The recording of all instruments is also superb! What was a particular aesthetic that you attempted to achieve?
We got a different view on that. All albums we did before were much more acoustically and let’s say non abstract. In fact, 4 is much more synthetic, but we wanted to achieve, that all modular synth sounds, external effects and edited instruments sound pretty much organic, although we worked with much more abstract elements than before – at the end it’s our ambition, that it doesn’t sound cold and soulless… nice you feel similar.

What were some of the musical influences that seeped into this record?
The influences change from time period to personal alteration, now we would say it’s all more inspired by our personal current state and necessity of expression. Krautrock, Jazz and also E-Music are seeping through… Also some very private experiences, in the past years, had big influences on 4.

How, would you say, your sound has evolved over the last sixteen years?
Different aspects. First we changed rooms/studios for each record in the past. the acoustic shift, the different character of each space, absorbs quite a bit of musical direction. It’s the sound proportion which pretends us to an atmospheric condition – that’s very important for us, not to replicate ourselves from project to project. For example, our latest studio is stuffed with pictures from well known artists – many from my parents’ friends, very inspiring!! Also the technique and the instrumentation leads us to new directions.

There are more than a few interesting musician appearances on the album – how did these come about?
It is like on all other records – a long progression. We work on our tracks sometimes over years to develop, with the times and change within, we come to the conclusion what instruments we want and who could play that. Of course, the personal contact to these musicians is very important and also their personal interest in working together with us. Max Loderbauer a modular wizard we knew way back from the Sun Electric days in the early 90s brought some great parts to the layouts we did. It just matched perfectly, made sense and inspired a lot for the end-production too. Markus Stockhausen (Flugelhorn) and Stefan Pötzsch (Violin/Viola and Mbirra) play together since many years, and when we heard them playing together, it was always a big inspiration… So we asked both independently, if they would play on some pieces. Stefan is from my home town too. They work both in the contemporary, avant-garde and jazz music scenes, which we find also very interesting. Frank Zeidler is our man for the guitar parts on several tracks. We know each other for a long time – we are good friends and we all worked together also in a “Kraut-Project”. Frank Freitag who played Duduk on Hirta is a very special and personal friend too.

I hear a lot of fascinating percussive sounds and even field recordings on the record. If it’s not a secret, what is the source of some of these?
Most of he percussion or percussive sounds where played live, the rest is programmed and lots of work being combined to reach an entire rhythmic apparatus. The field recordings or atmospherics are collected and well sorted by us mostly over the years or in impulse. The source is our personal library…

What prompted your transition from Studio !K7 to R&S/Apollo?
After eight years with !K7, it was time for us to open a new chapter. We where looking for a new adventures sound-wise, so we moved our studio and changed the environment. It was a good decision, when we heard the result of our new record.

What are your reactions to music genrefication, and particularly the association of your works with ‘chillout’ [a term, I'm not so happy about myself, to be honest]?
The term ‘chill out’ is superficial and meaningless if you don’t do determinations, but we never felt based in that scene. We like laid back music, but we distance ourselves from that irrelevance if there is no perception, concept and sincerity implied, it’s becoming “easy listening”

What are you listening to, drinking, and reading right now?
Old Krautrock, Dub, Psych records… We love French vin naturel and our local breweries. Florian reads two books. One is by William Mcilvanney called Laidlaw, a Scottish crime story, and a brilliant book about pop history is Yeah Yeah Yeah by Bob Stanley from Saint Etienne, and Peter reads a documentary named “Die Gruppe 47″ about the commune of the most important German authors poets like Ingeborg Bachmann, Paul Celan, H.M.Enzensberger, G. Grass etc. founded in 1947.

boozoobajou.com

“Words are like lies.” It’s a key phrase that only occasionally comes through on “Lexicon,” the first and newest piece on Andrew Lewis’s fascinating Au-Delà, collecting works from the last twenty years and covering a variety of strange terrain. “A page is like a map I try to find my way around,” repeat several voices, at times intelligible and at others incoherent. It’s Lewis’s sonic exploration of dyslexia, where words become interchangeable, transposed, manipulated, or otherwise obscured. Lewis’s Wikipedia entry describes “Lexicon” as an acousmatic piece with video, which I discovered online after the fact, but it doesn’t require the video to appreciate it (in fact, it might be more exciting and disorienting as pure sound).

“Lexicon is based on a poem written by a 12-year old boy, Tom, in which he tries to articulate his personal experience of dyslexia. By presenting an imaginary sonic and visual journey through the text of the poem, Lexicon explores not only the challenges, but also the life-affirming creative potential that dyslexia, and a fuller understanding of it, can bring.”

In contrast to the sputtering forms of “Lexicon,” “Dark Glass” musicalizes the refracting and reflective surfaces of broken glass with significantly more patience. There is an ebb and flow to its odd arrangement, sometimes cacophonous and busy but often then decaying with ambient patience. Therein lies the strength of Lewis’s often bewildering arrangements: he has a keen and innate understanding of dynamics and pacing that feel narrative and unpredictable. “Dark Glass” might be the closest thing to a performable piece of music, but it still very much resides in Lewis’s preferred world of acousmatic, unseen sound. In its final moments, it ascends with a crescendo that is disorienting and almost scary. It’s a fitting segue into “Ascent,” another acousmatic excursion from the mid 90s, intended to be a sonic exploration of the mountainous landscape around the Bangor University studios. It’s full of ups and downs and craggy stumbles, with some truly weird textures that represent Lewis’s knack for sound manipulations so well.

I find myself time and again wondering “How the hell did he make some of this?” And in the age of plug-ins and convenient software, it’s refreshing to be confused by unknown and unseen techniques. Such is the case with “Scherzo,” my other favorite piece, which closes out the collection. The press release claims that it “brings the listener back to the world of childhood,” but I find Lewis’s vision far more skewed. Children’s voices are time-stretched and manipulated into a chorus of scary drones and disorienting waves of sound. The clever device of stretching voices into tones is exciting, where the human voice and something altogether synthetic are hard to distinguish from one another. Something as harmless as the innocent voice of a child becomes almost nightmarish when put through Lewis’s prism of sound manipulation. Au-Delà is not exactly casual listening, but attentive listeners will no doubt be rewarded with Lewis’s talent for obfuscated sound and aural confections.

andrewlewis.org | empreintesdigitales.com

Words by Matthew Mercer of Ear Influxion

Editor’s note: I’m really excited to roll out this brand new column on Headphone Commute, dedicated to all of you, gear heads, DSP junkies and sonic geeks! In this special feature, each carefully selected artists will get an opportunity to talk about their current studio setup, working environment, favorite hardware, process of composition and much more! My very first guest of honor is Rafael Anton Irisarri, who I’m also crediting with inspiration behind this new feature! Enjoy! ~HC

Lets start at the very beginning. Can you tell us how you got involved in composing, and what was your very first piece of gear?
My very first piece of gear is how I got involved composing music in the first place. I bought a Boss DR-5 when I was a teen and a really crappy 4-track Tascam portastudio cassette recorder. The DR-5 was a drum machine that also included a sequencer and few sounds like piano, synths, etc. All very terrible, but it was all I could afford and a fun way to start composing my own music. Up to that point, I was playing in bands with others and well, didn’t have the freedom to create as I pleased. Having access to this technology was very liberating. I remember getting the DR-5, opening up the package and going thru that manual front-to-back and not going to sleep until I knew exactly EVERY single function on the machine. One of my fondest music nerdon moments.

How many different studio iterations have you gone through, and what does your final setup look like right now?
At least ten different ones – it’s all evolved so much over the years. From very complex setups – at one point once had a huge 32 channel mixboard and several synths – to very simple ones, like when I made “Glider” for Ghostly, it was a bedroom studio setup with just a few FX pedals and a small Mackie mixer. My current setup is a highly-functional one and thus far the one I’m the most satisfied. It’s been now years of acquiring knowledge and gear and learning how to obtain the best pieces for what I need in my mastering studio setup or for my own composer studio at the best price.

Tell us about your favorite piece of hardware.
It’s always changing. So many things I love. I’m obsessed with all my Moog pedals at this moment. Just finished patching everything to a 48 point patchbay and it’s been really fun to use them in a modular way. I’m also in love with this little box made by a small company out of Baltimore called KNAS. It’s called a “moisturizer” and it’s essentially a spring reverb with an LFO, Filter and CV added to it. So much fun! For more “serious” production gear, I never mix these days without my FATSO. Love the saturation and compressor for different applications. Lastly, the best piece of gear I’ve ever bought is my SSL summing mixer. I can’t really put to words all it does for my sound, but it’s a huge part of it.

And what about the software that you use for production?
I’m using Ableton Live almost exclusively, aside from third-party Universal Audio plug-ins. They are incredible at emulating high-end pieces of classic gear, though very expensive. I’ve probably spent more money on UAD plug-ins than I’ve spent on buying vinyl these past 10 years, it’s pretty mental!

Is there a particular piece of gear that you’re just dying to get your hands on and do you think one day you’ll have it?
Oh, there’s a huge list, not just one! I’ve got a severe case of GAS (Gear Acquisition Syndrome). I even got a 42U rackmount sitting here waiting to be filled with new friends – anything from the Roland MKS-80 (rack version of a Jupiter 8 synth) to some serious mastering gear, like a Manley SLAM Mastering Limiter – price tag on that guy is over $7K, which is going to take several years saving and counting the pennies I make selling records I reckon!

What does your live setup look like, and what do you bring with you when you travel for an extensive tour?
My last touring live setups were a bit nuts, so I’ve started to scale back a bit again. During my last Europe tour in January this year, I messed up a lot of my Moog pedals, so Ive decided to start taking less expensive gear – things get trashed really bad when you are traveling overseas. Up to that point, I was carrying with me over 15 FX pedals, two synths, 65 cables, 8 midi controllers, and backlining a guitar, bow, amp and 24 channel mixboard. I used EVERY single piece of gear live. But yeah, I’ve started to scale back, so for example, I recently did a The Sight Below show here in Seattle and only took two synths, 6 FX pedals and 3 midi controllers with me. Funny thing is I still ended up using about 35 cables. My wife was helping me setup for the soundcheck that evening. It’s the first time she’s actually done this with me. We kept patching cables until we both ran out, and she said “so THAT’s why you are always buying so many cables!”

What is the most important environmental aspect of your current workspace and what would be a particular element that you would improve on?
Organization for me is the most important thing. I’m quite compulsive, everything HAS to be in a specific place, perfectly lined-up, patched and ready to be used. Otherwise, it doesn’t get used so often. I don’t have anything tucked away – if it’s in a closet, it won’t get used. Out of sight, out of mind. I’m also quite the germophobe, as you may know, so my studio is my clean sanctuary. I require people to wash their hands and sanitize before coming in and touching anything – even close friends think I’m totally nuts when it comes to that stuff. I have a whiteboard in my studio – it contains a detailed “to-do list” for each week – something I learned from Robin Rimbaud actually. Order and neatness is crucial to me. I cannot focus otherwise.

Improvements: this area never ends, it’ll never be perfect, so it’s more about learning to accept that fact and working with what you’ve got. Making limitations part of the creative process. Afterall, limitations are truly the mother of inventions. I strongly believe that’s the case.

What can you tell us about your overall process of composition? How are the ideas born, where do they mature, and when do they finally see the light?
Composing is a very intimate process for me. I need to be isolated, withdrawn to get into it. That’s one of the toughest things of living in a cool city like Seattle: there is ALWAYS something great going on. So you have to really take a step back and recluse yourself. Some ideas come out of a sound, others out of a piece of gear, there’s really no exact science or rules. For example, one of the songs on the new ORCAS album was born out of me showing Tom a new polyphonic analog synth I received. It literally arrived just a few minutes before he got to my studio and I was opening the box when he got in. So, out of the box I plugged it in and was showing him what it does and how you can send MIDI to it via USB to play a sequence off Ableton. As I was doing that, I stumble across a great little bass sound and had a very cool nice line happening, so I patched it into my rig, ran it thru a few FX’s and recorded about seven or eight minutes of me improvising with it. Just like that: boom! new idea. I asked Tom to play guitar on top of my improv, also manipulating his sound as he played along to the track, recording everything. And before we knew it, we were adding vocals, lyrics, and structuring this sonic experiment, morphing it into an actual song. All within a few hours of me opening a box. It just happens like that sometimes.

After the piece is complete, how do you audition the results? What are you reactions to hearing your music in a different context, setting, or a sound system?
I love listening in different systems: my old trusty Genelec’s, my home stereo JBL’s, a shitty BOSE boombox, three different pairs of headphones (from high-end AKG 701′s to Sennheiser classic HD280 & HD-25). I also listen on my wife’s car sometimes. Mostly, when I’m listening I’m trying to get a similar-sounding mix across that multitude of systems. It obviously varies depending on the music, but overall, is a good thing to listen and compare on different systems and circumstances. Elements that for example are very present on headphones may not be so much in the living room, and even less on a car stereo. My goal is to find a good balance, even before I get to the mastering stage. Just the same way you cannot really fix a bad sound at the mix stage, mastering cannot fix a bad mix.

Earlier version of studio setup: Autumn, 2012

Do you ever procrastinate? If so, what do you usually find yourself doing during those times?
I do, unfortunately. I try hard not to! Sometimes I get very overwhelmed and depressed and cannot function well. I find those times terrible for creativity – there’s good depression and bad depression. Good depression results in things like “Daydreaming” or “Glider.” Bad depression is just unproductive. Been an independent artist is such a struggle. A lot of energy is spent preoccupied with things like “where am I getting income next month?” – it’s a very unstable thing and trying to be creative when your mind is overtaxed with worries is tough. So, you really need some distractions. A lot of artists turn to drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately for me, drugs don’t really make me feel any better – we even have legalized marijuana here in Seattle – I can walk to the store and buy some premium quality organic weed that would make my 15 year old self very happy, but you know, when you reach a certain point, you just don’t do it. I dunno why, but I’ve just never been too inclined towards any of that lifestyle and indulge in any of those things.

And of course, when you make music for a living, music is not really a good distraction anymore. Instead, you get sidetracked by things like the internet, social media, etc. Over the years, I’ve tried to spend less time online, rather spending it doing something else, like watching a film or reading a book. There are of course, many guilty pleasures along the way – I’ve been very obsessed with George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” universe – from the books to HBO’s Game of Thrones. I even made a version of the ‘Rains of Castamere” last year, which I posted to my soundcloud page. It’s really silly and embarrassing, but I even got all giddy like a schoolgirl when “King Joefrey” re-twitted it after I posted it. Now THAT was a good high!

Be sure to also read Headphone Commute’s review of The Unintentional Sea

irisarri.org

I’m always excited to welcome Peter Van Cooten back to our podcast, and this time it’s no exception! Peter is more than a friend and a colleague – at times it feels like I make some of my mixes for him, while he carefully crafts special journeys for me. It’s less than a competition, but rather a carefully crafted enchantment performed with some magic, bewitchment, and a slight of hand. And in case of this maestro of sound and words for his Ambient Blog, it’s even a puzzle, where individual tracks are layered in tiers of two, three, four, even five streams at a time. This is a true craftsmanship of mixing, and I always try to achieve the same. As a quick guide, Peter shares the screenshot of sequence (see below) and the following introduction:

* * *

For this mix I aimed to create a dreamlike and timeless atmosphere – dark (but not too dark). It is calm, yet there are many shifting scenes, many passing landscapes and some conflicting emotions… When it ends, (I hope) it feels as if it was much longer than it actually was… 

Like with most previous mixes, I didn’t know where this new one would head to when I started. But I knew I wanted to include one tiny fragment of the sound of a ‘brain seizure set to music’ by Stanford scientist Chris Chafe and Josef Parvizi. In a fascinating contrast to what it actually represents, the musical sound they chose to represent the brain seizure sounded like tiny aliens in a retro-scifi movie to me.

In “Hypnogogmatist”, David Toop further investigates the tricks your mind can play – especially in the few seconds between feeling drowsy and falling asleep:

“In the dream, I was at my mothers’ house, my childhood home. All the rooms were full of sleeping people. I seemed to be suffering some process of disintegration, as if my psyche was breaking down to different timeframes, losing its coherence and unity. There was a presence in the house…”

The fantastic artwork is by Greg Dunn, an artist combining neuroscience with minimalist Japanese Sumo-E style painting to create his “Neuron Art”.

“Neurons (the cells that comprise your brain) may be tiny in scale, but they posess the same beauty seen in traditional forms of the medium (trees, flowers, and animals)”

So I guess that there ís something of a theme for this mix. The rest is up to you.

ambientblog.net

[ STREAM ] | [ DOWNLOAD ] | [ PODCAST ] | [ iTUNES ]

Sequence (click to enlarge)

PAN is a Berlin/NYC based label founded in 2008 by Bill Kouligas (aka Family Battle Snake). In the past, the label has released abstract, improvisational and experimental pieces by Hecker, SND, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Mika Vainio, Kevin Drumm and many others. On this Sound Bytes Label Special, Matthew Mercer explores some the latest offerings from this purveyor of the outer-limit pseudo-techno noise-filtered world. Enjoy!

Concrete Fence New Release (1) PAN This collaboration between noise maestro Russell Haswell and techno legend Regis (Karl O’Connor) delivers the goods as anyone familiar with either artist might expect. “Industrial Disease” kicks things off, living up to its name with a sick combo of rhythm and noise. It starts with a drone of midrange noise before a patient, strident beat takes hold. The staggered kick and snare combo is pure Regis, not unlike some of the icier remixes he’s turned out in the last year or two. The slow and continuous manipulation of feedback and noise into unusual shapes and configurations keeps things plenty interesting as the rhythm section otherwise disappears. “Caulk” is the least punchy of the three, with no real rhythmic low-end to anchor it like the other two, but its combination of drippy effects, skittering and sputtering, with Haswell’s wilder noise patterns and sculptures is effective. Its final stretch of thick, midrange noise reminds me of vintage NON in the best of ways. My favorite track might be the third, though. “The Unabridged Truth” starts in more conventional form, if only by merit of its steady, ordinary kick drum that provides the meter for its swirling doodles of noise. It’s deceiving when its techno framework seems to be building while the noise recedes; halfway through, the beat drops out completely, never to return, and the noise loops and sputters and shifts shapes. It really shouldn’t work, but it does. I hope the duo continue to explore this intriguing combination of sensibilities.		Helm Silencer PAN The most noteworthy thing about Silencer is its percussive clatter, all midrange toms in a start/stop pattern. It sets the release apart immediately from Luke Younger‘s varied but generally less rhythmic repertoire. Once it begins to evolve, “Silencer” sounds like the scary junction of a haunted funhouse, a drumming dirge, and a gamelan orchestra. It has the fury of vintage Neubauten or Test Dept. but with a slipperier disposition; it’s immediate but not necessarily confrontational. By contrast, “Mirrored Palms” is a prolonged series of drones punctuated slowly with a deep bass thud — it’s an awesome wall of drones that is far more intense than the more active opener, despite its minimal, plodding rhythm. “Bergamo” brings back more drumming, but reverberating from a distance while murky sounds of water, feedback, and piano innards build and consume the space. “The Haze” is more spacious and patient, with a vaguely dubby sound that recalls the dark amble of Raime, muted, steady drums scattered through the stereo spectrum while insect-like chirps and chatter fill in the spaces between. A gliding, looming dread dominates the track as taut drones increase in scale, harnessing the same tension that characterized “Mirrored Palms” earlier. This rhythmic output from Helm is some of best stuff I’ve heard from Younger to date; Silencer delivers on the promise of his previous flirtations with rhythm and expands upon it with this handsome foursome of tracks.
Black Sites Prototype EP PAN The duo Black Sites (comprised of F#x and Helena Hauff) herein present two tracks of fairly squirrelly techno that’s rough around the edges in all the right ways. “Prototype” starts and just goes, a dusty kick drum, open hi-hat, and filtered stabs that repeat continuously. Stray bleeps and noise find their way into the mix as it proceeds, before the kick disappears and the entire thing feeds back onto itself until it turns into a shrill wall of rhythmic noise. “N313P” continues along the same lines but pushes further into the outskirts of accessibility, starting with a squelchy synth that falls in sync with a distorted 4-to-the-floor kick. Syncopated leads and patterns weave in and out, giving the track rhythm beyond the lurch of its main kick. It’s a noisy tapestry of squelches, noise, zaps, and beats that would likely lend itself surprisingly well to mixing with a qualified ear but also is effective on headphones as a squirmy crossover between techno and something other. Recommended for fans of Container, Metasplice, or perhaps Actress in a ruder mood.		Mohammad Som Sakrifis PAN Mohammad is a trio that seems to truly triangulate between its members’ strengths. Coti K plays contra-bassoon, Ilios (owner of the Antifrost label) plays oscillators, and Nikos Veliotis plays cello. Most of the time, Coti K. and Veliotis play in sync, with droning, extended tones that bend within one another, creating a beguiling result that certainly sounds acoustic but otherwise can be difficult to identify specifically as to what exactly is creating the sound. “Sakrifis” starts it off with 7 minutes of gliding, deliberate, dirgelike tones that culminate in a swell of sound with vocalizations underneath. “Lapli Tero” continues along those lines but with a more compelling, hypnotic refrain that sounds as resolute as it is hopeless. But perhaps the most evolved piece is the last of the three: “Liberig Min” is seventeen minutes long and starts unassumingly with a rhythmic tweet and a slow, steady crescendo of cello and oscillator tones, one which persists throughout the track, punctuated by prolonged rests and near-silence.

pan-act.com

All words by Matthew Mercer of Ear Influxion
Additional editorial by HC

If Autechre decided to throw down an album that references trends outwardly instead of plumbing exclusively inward, it might sound something like Akkord. The duo of Liam Blackburn (Indigo) and Joe McBride (Synkro) are responsible for the music of Akkord, though they self-describe as follows: “A collective of like-minded artists raised in and around the rural outskirts of Manchester. Bringing together years of musical knowledge & experience to collectively channel their sound into a eclectic hybrid of all the electronic music they were brought up on from youth.” That last list is a mouthful, but hearing Akkord’s fully formed debut, available now on Houndstooth, the label curated by Rob Booth of Fabric [and Electronic Explorations podcast], it all makes sense.

There is an appreciation for dark, angular sounds that recalls some of the less obtuse moments of Autechre, but there is far more accessibility in these ten tracks than anything on Autechre’s most recent L-Event EP, for example. It starts off unassumingly enough with the slow dub expanse of “Torr Vale” before the syncopated tribal drumming of “Smoke Circle” starts to peel back the album’s layers to reveal a more overt rhythmic sensibility. But it’s really with “3dOS” that things snap more properly into place, with a more uptempo four-to-the-floor kick pushing forward while zapping synths, decaying details and reverberated flourishes circle overhead. This combination of dub elements and post-industrial darkness reminds me of the otherwise rather unique sonic world of Demdike Stare, but Akkord is far more dancefloor compatible, rarely blowing out on the massive scale that populates most of Demdike Stare’s double and triple albums. Instead most of the tracks on the album are quite tightly wound, meticulous in construction and detailing. Staggered beats and breaks show off Akkord’s rhythmic chops while the palette is consistently focused on detailed and distilled arrangements.

“Akkord began as a shadowy collective with an espoused passion for mathematics and sacred geometry, crafting intelligent and beautifully oppressive electronic music. ‘Akkord’ blurs the lines between junglist revivalism, smoky ambience, and suctioned dub, with a consistently engaging pulse linking the styles.”

“Folded Edge” evolves into a handsome groove eventually, while “Navigate” is a clear standout with its taut rhythm section after a prolonged, dubby tease. (“Navigate” was also the lead track on their debut EP last year, my first impression of the act.) In contrast to those crisply crafted patterns, “Conveyor” chugs along with a distorted bass pattern and reverberated stabs that bring to mind the darkest grooves of Modeselektor, and the beatless denouement of “Undertow” closes out the album quite nicely with a chilling effect. It’s all a rather cool and collected kind of response to the more organic leanings of en vogue house and analog techno; Akkord, by contrast, is fiercely technical, meticulous, perfect. Unconcerned with sounding self-consciously warm, they instead are free to dive deep into the details of production, exploring the dark twists and turns of their musical world with only an occasional suggestion of light.

See if you can also pick up Akkord’s first two self-released EPs, as well as the above mentioned Navigate EP and split remix EP with Special Request titled HTH vs HTH, both on Houndstooth. For more on Akkord, you can check out McBride’s and Blackburn original project, Synkro & Indigo with 12″ EPs on Smokin’ Sessions, On The Edge and Exit Records.

akkordmusik.tumblr.com | houndstoothlabel.com

Words by Matthew Mercer of Ear Influxion

Editor’s note: Welcome to the second installment of Headphone Commute’s “In the studio with…” column. Behind this door with the Hello Kitty “Welcome” sign (pictured above) lies the home in which Brock Van Wey (aka bvdub) composes his music… Be sure to check out Brock’s latest release on echospace [detroit] titled Home. Works really well in the background as you read this amazing and very personal narrative, if you ask me… Step right in, as we bring you closer to the world of your favorite artist! Enjoy! ~HC

Lets start at the very beginning. Can you tell us how you got involved in composing, and what was your very first piece of gear?

Actually I composed my very first piece of music when I think I was around 10 or 11, a piece for a trio of violin, viola, and cello. I was playing the violin since I was 5 (and later piano), and after some years found myself becoming bored with just playing things others had composed. It felt very constraining. Plus, although I guess I was supposedly a ‘classical’ musician, I didn’t actually like ‘classical’music as such, and even when I was playing pieces I was supposed to be playing, I was always kind of remixing them in my head, I guess you could say, into the way I thought they should be. So I guess it was natural for that to lead to me composing my own pieces from scratch. I composed several around that time, and throughout the following years a few more for both solo, trio, and quartet, along with a slew of solo piano pieces, as well as a few duets for violin and piano, up until around the time I quit both the violin and piano when I was around 15 or 16. In the last couple years or so from around 13 to 15, I attempted to compose an entire symphony, but never completed it. I was able to compose most of the string parts, but putting it all together with the rest, namely for instruments I had never played, was biting off more than I could chew. But hey, you’ll never know if you don’t try.

I think it was about 1993 or so when I composed my first ever electronic piece, a really weird kind of industrial techno/classical thing (it was supposed to be a melodic trance track, and ended up as some industrial-sounding thing, which was especially weird considering I had never listened to industrial music) with a program that required that you actually write the music out just as you would a physical score (notes and all). It was super taxing and honestly the track wasn’t that great, I remember it was full of weird bell noises and pitched-down bird sounds, but it was quite thrilling to be able to do something electronic on my own from scratch. With that I borrowed a sampler (can’t remember what kind, it was a really basic one), and had bought a Korg Wavestation off a classmate for some shockingly low price like a hundred bucks. Amazing what kind of deals you could get when everyone used drugs and just wanted money fast (haha).

I never really did any other music after that, as I found the whole experience too tiring and time consuming, and I was really frustrated that I couldn’t even come close to translating what was in my head. So I just stuck to DJing and throwing parties for those years. Way down the line I decided to come back to, and this time dedicate myself to, learning to do it properly, after months or even years of constant poking and prodding from one of my best friends, who also went on to spend months teaching me the ins and outs of a lot of hardware and software. My first official bvdub tracks were in 2006 (I had already been DJing under that name for 15 years or so by then), which formed the Strength In Solitude LP on 2600 (Night Drive). Those 6 tracks were the first I ever made (we won’t count that 1993 thing), in the order they were made. Although I still love a lot about those tracks for numerous reasons, you can definitely tell they were made by someone who was sorely ignorant about a shedload of things, especially sound design. They were compressed and limited to holy hell and sonically are about as crisp as a bowl of mashed potatoes someone left out in the rain. But it was really exhilarating to be able to put some of my own emotions to music. It was so liberating. No matter how those tracks ‘sounded,’I will never forget how thrilled I was making them, being able to have that kind of control and freedom, and hearing something be played back, just sitting there listening to little loops for what seemed like hours. I felt like a god. Well, a god who didn’t know what he was doing, but still a god (well, plenty of gods don’t know what they’re doing I guess haha). It was like discovering music all over again. But everything in music is a constant learning process, and I definitely learned a lot from those tracks that I still carry with me to this day.

How many different studio iterations have you gone through, and what does your final setup look like right now?

It’s gone through several iterations during the years, especially between living in America and China. When I was living in San Francisco it was a lot more complicated and I was constantly trying out new configurations and combinations, but I streamlined it quite heavily when moving back to China. I originally brought with me what I could carry, and had quite a bit more shipped over, but I found that the new environment and ever-looming sense of non-permanency that comes from living in a country that makes you re-apply every 11 months to even be able to live here caused me to get rid of a lot of the clutter, and now it’s pretty perfectly streamlined to exactly how I need it. Actually my whole apartment is ‘streamlined’ I guess you could say, to the point that most people say it looks like no one’s ever lived in it. But I remember people saying that about my place in San Francisco too. Seems to be a pattern there that goes beyond ‘streamlining’ (haha).

Of course this is going to come off  as absurd in an ‘In the studio with…’ but personally I don’t think anyone’s specific studio iterations, setup, or gear is important. Not only am I, I guess, an old dinosaur in that I liked when music was all still a mystery and nobody cared what anyone used to make it, but I think it isn’t important for someone else to know what one person uses, because they would never use it the same way anyway.

Take my job as a professor for example. I have a very specific teaching style that I’ve created and fostered over the last 15 years, and made all the materials that go along with it from scratch. I never use a book, and never use any other materials but my own. And it works extremely well for me. Year after year, my students outperform every other class, and in my current school I’ve been ranked in the top 3 teachers, if not the top, out of 1300 in the entire university every semester for the last 5 years. I’m not trying to come off all full of myself, but I’m proud of what I’ve achieved, and I’ve worked unbelievably hard to make it happen. Anyhoo…

As a result, I get a lot of other teachers asking me if they can come to my class, ‘share’ ideas (i.e copy my ideas), or just outright ask me if they can have my materials. Of course I say no, but it’s not just because I’m a dick (I mean I am, but that’s not the only reason), or because I’ve spent 15 years of my life developing every inch of my own style and materials from scratch and I’m not about to just hand them over to someone else – it’s because it wouldn’t matter anyway. Because I could hand them a year’s worth of material and it would never work for them. It only works for me, because it’s developed around my personality, and my personal communication style. In the hands of someone else it would make absolutely no sense. Just like someone else’s materials in my hands would make no sense. I’ve seen other great teachers in my school have their class, and I also could never do it how they do it. Even if I took someone’s super successful class or materials and tried to pull it off myself, my students would look at me like I had lost my mind, and none of them would want to listen to or believe a word I said. Why? Because it doesn’t ring true. It’s obviously not ‘me,’and it doesn’t suit my personality, my vision for what I want to convey in the class, and what I want my students to take away from it. So others’ style, and their vision, should be left to them, and mine left to me.

I think it’s the same with equipment, studios, etc. Another artist can have his setup, but if I tried to use it, I would either produce nothing, something probably fucking horrible, or at the very least something that sounds absolutely nothing like what they make. So it doesn’t matter what they use. Because the end result is going to be completely different anyway. They’ve chosen what they’ve chosen because it works well for them. And just like a teacher will fail with someone else’s materials, so too will someone trying to use someone else’s setup. It’s crafted for them, and their vision. So we all have to do our own trial and error, find our way, enjoy the result, and don’t worry about the process. And get those damn kids off my lawn.

Tell us about your favorite piece of hardware.

My OCD-riddled brain.

And what about the software that you use for production?

Love. And Pain. And sometimes revenge fantasy plugins.

Is there a particular piece of gear that you’re just dying to get your hands on and do you think one day you’ll have it

Personally I never think in that way. In music, as with all things, I just take it one day at a time, and I just make what I feel with what I have available to me. For me that’s what music is, it’s a snapshot of your life, mind, and times at the time you made it. And I think that includes whatever means you used to make it. Instead of some people who are always seeking to expand those parameters, I instead am always seeking to expand my ways of working within the parameters I have. To me that’s much more exciting, and can yield even more interesting results. Yes of course it’s exciting to have new tools at your disposal, but I think it’s even more exciting to be able to do something you’ve never been able to do before with tools you’ve had all along. Sometimes the fates decree that new tools will find their way into your hands. Sometimes they don’t. If so, awesome. If not, I can work with what I’ve got. If some piece of gear was meant for someone else, I’ll live – hopefully they at least make the most out of it.

What does your live setup look like, and what do you bring with you when you travel for an extensive tour?

I don’t do extensive tours. In fact I don’t play more than two shows at any time I travel, and usually only play one. On top of that, I don’t play more than a few shows a year. The reason for that is two-fold:

First, I need to make a very personal connection with the promoter or person who wants to bring me out. We have to have a lot of communication (some of them probably feel too much haha), and I have to feel their ideals and mine are on the same page. I have to get to know them personally before I agree to anything even remotely close to traveling halfway across the world to be a part of something they’re doing, and in turn, a part of their lives, if even for a few days or a night. I’m only interested in playing for people and events I am 100% behind with every fiber of my being. And such people and events don’t come along that often. If it’s not something I feel I can put all of myself into, and a person I feel is a true kindred soul, then I pass on it. I’m just as happy staying home and working on music. Making music isn’t my job, so I don’t ‘need’ to do anything related to any part of it. I only do what I want and what I love – which leaves me completely free when it comes to all choices, including shows, which is the only way I would ever want to do it. Sometimes I envy friends of mine who have made their music their living, but for me, just like in the 90’s when I had the chance to make DJing my ‘job’and didn’t, I could never do so with making music. It needs to stay my reason for living – not the means by which I live.

The other major reason is that for me, every show I play has to be completely unique from any others I play before or after it. I’ve never done the same things, or even performed two of the same tracks, or even parts thereof, in any two different shows. I think every show I play should be 100% unique to that time and place, and those of us who were there. I want it to be something special that will literally never be experienced again, by anyone there, from the audience, to even myself. To ensure that happens can be really a really weird mental maze I have to navigate, and is admittedly really exhausting as I impose 100x more work and weird rules than I need to on myself, but it’s really important to me, and it’s something I’m not willing to change. Therefore touring is not something that is really doable for me, as it’s really quite unimaginable to go play 10 shows in a couple-week span that are all literally 100% different and unique from each other in every way. I mean technically I have the catalog to do so (haha), but I just couldn’t do it mentally.

A show is an extremely emotional (and therefore emotionally draining) experience for me, and each one tells an entirely different story, and has an entirely different point. It’s one of the most amazing experiences in the world. But it leaves me really emptied out… that level of opening myself up to an audience in a public place is a really intense thing for me, and one that leaves me really in a weird state for up to several weeks afterward. I love it, but it’s very taxing. So it’s not something I take lightly, or something that I do more than a few times a year.

Anyone who has been to one of my shows knows I only use a laptop (and a big-ass mixing board, but I don’t bring that with me). When I first began playing shows I brought equipment with me, had a whole ‘setup’ and all that good stuff, but that lasted I think two times, until I played a show once and a problem with a cable on one piece of equipment triggered a chain of events that caused everything, including my laptop at the time, to crash. So it was nothing but complete silence for like 15 minutes while I had to get everything going again. It was a nightmare. And one I wasn’t gonna go through again. So after that I decided I needed to streamline (there’s that word again) everything down and make it as simple as possible, which is why I do it the way I do now. In fact, it gives a new meaning to the word. Not only do I have a dedicated machine that I only use for live shows, but living in China, and knowing the people that I do here, allowed me to go ridiculously far beyond that.

In typical (if you know me) random brand allegiance, I only use Asus computers (I currently have 5, 3 for music production, 1 for live shows, and 1 for everyday use). In the city I live in, the woman who runs the Asus store is a friend of mine, so she pulled a bunch of strings and allowed me to go to the Asus factory (it’s about an hour from where I live) and not only work with them to build custom laptops purely designed completely to my specifications (anyone who knows laptops knows that’s nearly impossible), complete with custom-made motherboards and nearly all custom-made hardware all built directly at the factory and specially designed to optimally sync with each other – but she then hired out her best tech guy to work solely for me, and who is a complete magician, to build me a custom version of Windows 7 from scratch (meaning he modeled it after Windows 7 but it’s completely custom-built and written from the ground up) that can only run what I use to play a show. It can’t get on the internet, it can’t run any other software, and it has zero other capabilities or functions… Hell, it can’t even type text outside of specifically designated parameters limited to what I use for the show. So it has literally zero things running in the background, and the CPU is always 100% dedicated to whatever I’m doing musically. My three music machines are set up the same way, but with those ones he adapted the system to be slightly more flexible, so I can add in new operations, software, hardware, and functions as needed. And I can type stuff in a few more situations, otherwise it’s kinda hard to keep track of finished tracks (haha). But the amount of unbridled power and unshakable focus those things can generate is frightening.

That not only cost me about a years’ salary in technical development costs and burnt hardware, but it also took me spending quite a bit of time to learn about how the operating system itself works (finally my damn Master’s in Chinese paid off, as the entire system top to bottom is in Chinese) so the whole thing was quite laborious, but you gotta pay the cost to the boss (haha). If anyone else tried to use it but me and the guy who designed it, they’d feel like they were on acid. And some kind of acid that makes every word Chinese (haha). It’s really bizarrely designed, and makes no sense to anyone but him and me, really. But we’re the only ones it needs to make sense to. It took about a year total with all said and done for us to pull it off, and I’d say about 20-25 different sessions of trial and error between every kind of (computer) hardware and combination thereof imaginable (between the customized machines and the customized operating system), much of which we and the factory were really just stabbing at blind, and we ruined several machines in the process, but it was all worth it. Sometimes Chinese ingenuity really kicks ass. And combined with my rampant OCD and clinically insane need to take everything ten football lengths past overboard, well then it becomes a juggernaut.

What is the most important environmental aspect of your current workspace and what would be a particular element that you would improve on?

Well having my four cats either literally piled on top of each other on my lap or attempting to simultaneously perch on four different parts of my body (including one who insists on literally bear-hugging my wrist the entire time I make music) during every second of the musical process is a pretty important environmental aspect I guess, and the wall-to-wall Hello Kitty beatdown most think I am joking about but am all too serious (among my numerous overboard obsessions, Hello Kitty ranks near the top), but overall, having a workspace in a Chinese house is already the most challenging thing. Anyone who has ever been in a Chinese house will know what I mean. Everything is hardwood floors, marble, tile, and brick walls, single-pane windows that don’t even shut all the way, no carpet and nothing even remotely soft or fuzzy within 100 miles, and Chinese don’t believe in insulation or anything in-between the floors or walls, so not only is it either insanely hot or insanely cold, with no middle ground, but acoustically it’s an absolute nightmare, not only because you can literally hear every word of a conversation 5 floors down, but also every minuscule sound anywhere within a one-mile radius. It’s basically just one big uncontrollable echo chamber (the house and the country itself haha)

Over the years I’ve learned to be able to translate extremely precisely what something sounds like in my studio into what it will sound like in the rest of the world, but it took a long time. I always say I wish I could have an environment that was really neutral and just sounded amazing, but really the adversity of the situation is actually beneficial. I can’t become spoiled by a great sounding environment or situation that makes music that doesn’t actually sound that great seem like it does, and I’ve had to learn to really understand every inch of what I make, and instead of hindering my sound, I think it’s only helped hone it and make it thrive. I’m so used to the environment now, it would feel weird to change it, even to a better one. And although I threaten to kick my cats out on the street on a daily basis, I can’t change that either. And we all know Hello Kitty ain’t goin’ anywhere. No matter what your studio is like, you’ll have to learn and compensate for how what you make will sound elsewhere when it’s unleashed on the world.. But overcoming the rough parts is half the fun.

What can you tell us about your overall process of composition? How are the ideas born, where do they mature, and when do they finally see the light?

Ideas are born solely from emotion… I only know the emotion I want to express. I’ve mentioned before that every time I make a track, the title is written before I even imagine note one. It’s the emotion or story I need to tell, and the whole reason behind everything that has to do with the track. Without it, nothing else happens. From there, the track, and in turn the album (since mostly all I do nowadays is albums), composes itself, really, in that I don’t consciously make any decisions to steer it this way or that. It goes where it wants, and I follow it there. But obviously both my background in different facets of music composition, coupled with the life experiences my music is borne from, guides my hand, whether I notice or not. So in the end, my music takes on many different styles, tempos, etc, from beatless ambient to deep techno to 180+ breaks to deep and ambient house and everything in-between, because they all express very different things, and life is full of different experiences and emotions. I never sit down with a pre-determined notion of which way I’ll say what I want to say. But I think naturally, due to the nature of what I want to say, my subconscious, and my heart, lead it in a certain direction. You have to just go where it takes you.

It reminds me of back when I used to DJ, there was a guy who used to play at our parties, and one day I noticed he was taking the records out of his case one at a time, in order, and I quickly surmised (yes, I’m a genius) that not only had he obviously worked out every second of his DJ set days before the party, but it was the same set he had played before, even down to the exact points he mixed things in (yes, that’s how OCD I am). As a result, he was unable to adapt to anything that was going on in his environment, how the crowd was reacting, or even the mood of the day. How on earth could he know how people would all feel that day, not to mention himself? It just all came across painfully clear in the set, which was technically great, but just felt really off, and heartless, and the awkwardness resonated through everyone, from him, to the crowd. So being the asshole that I am, I snuck up when he wasn’t looking and mixed up the order of his records, and it sent him into a panic. I told him to just follow his heart, follow the feeling, and just go where it took him. No one would care if he ‘fucked up,’ and neither would I, but I’d rather he ‘fuck up’ for 90 minutes but feel the shit out of it than play a set perfectly that had nothing to do with anything. But he couldn’t do it, and I had to come on and play the rest of his slot. Not long after, he completely stopped DJing. He knew it wasn’t in his heart. I think the same is true with composition, making your own music, etc. You can’t sit down and already think of exactly how a piece is going to be, from beginning to end. At least I can’t. It’s going to take on a life of its own, as it reveals its own new stories it wants to add to the one you wanted to say. That’s the whole beauty of it all. And if you try to force things into a pre-determined mold, it will sound about as exciting and relevant as a DJ set you planned a week ago alone in your bedroom. When I DJed, every set told a story from my life… but I never knew how that story would manifest itself until I began to tell it, and every time, even I was surprised with how the story unfolded. Composing my own music is the same. Just on an infinitely more intense scale.

Like with everything, it’s all about trial and error, making mistakes and savoring small victories, and understanding not only your own voice and composition style, but also what works and what doesn’t in an actual sonic and sound design sense. My sound is very dirty and intense, and both are exactly how I like it. I’ve worked for years to be able to make work, and to bring out the vision and compositions that were always in my head and heart, and that came with years of both trial and error, and conscious learning. You can not know what you’re doing and mash just three things on top of each other and it will sound like complete shit… but know what you’re doing, and you can stack literally 120+ channels together, playing simultaneously, and it will still sound awesome. I say 120+ because I’ve done it before. A lot of my tracks have at least 70-80, most are well over 100, and more than a few are well over 120+. Again, those custom machines come into play (haha) viva la China. The best possible moment in my ‘career,’ as it were, was when I was finally able to make something sound exactly like I wanted it to, rather than just how I could within the limitations of what I knew how to do.

I can easily say “I like my sound like I like my women… dirty and intense,” because my girlfriend can’t read English well enough to read this (haha).

As far as it seeing the light, like most things with life and music, I take that as it comes. Sometimes I make something specifically on the request of someone or a label, and sometimes (more often than not) I just make it because it’s what I do – it’s my reason for living. I don’t really think about what will ‘happen’ with it later. But I will admit that once it’s done, I usually know what feels right as far as how it should finally see the light. Sometimes that comes to be, and sometimes it doesn’t. But I think all that happens for a reason. Every single thing that didn’t ‘go my way’ or not as expected ended up being a blessing in disguise. So everything happens for a reason, and I think your music will always end up where it’s truly meant to be. Just like with gear or anything else, I never worry about it. What’s meant to happen will happen.

After the piece is complete, how do you audition the results? What are you reactions to hearing your music in a different context, setting, or a sound system?

After a piece is complete, it spends weeks or months in every room of my house, on a lot of different combinations of speakers, from studio monitors, to Kef towers (my favorite speakers on the planet), to crappier home speakers, to complete piece of shit computer speakers, and most importantly on walks in the headphones. I know a lot of people who listen on different sources in order to make it sound the same across all platforms, but it’s not the way I approach it. I pretty much already know how it’s going to sound through most every possible speaker and setup. And I know it’s gonna sound different – and that’s fine. I think each gives it its own character, and can even add to or alter the story in its own way. I think that’s all part of the experience. It has a life of its own, and will live differently in different environments. Music is fluid, not static. It’s supposed to live and breathe in different ways at different times. Of course I want it to sound as good as possible on all fronts – but I don’t think it needs to sound ‘the same.’ Different isn’t always bad.

The placement of a track or album in the outside world, when I take long walks, is the real testing ground. If it all makes sense in that setting, and I really feel it to my core, and also throughout everything around me, I know it’s as it should be. I always seem to say ‘not to get all hippie-dippy,’ but it’s kind of one of these things where I can feel, hear, and see the music resonating in everything around me… every thing, every person… everything… they all seem to know exactly what I know, and hear what I hear. Once that happens, even within the first second, I know. And there is no doubt.

It’s always an amazing thing to hear my music on a big sound system, as I don’t have the opportunity to hear it very loud at all at any other point (I’m much more considerate of my neighbors than they are of me). I’ve had the fortune to play on some phenomenal and phenomenally loud systems, and it’s really astounding how something even you yourself made, and know every inch of, can come to life in such a new way, like you’re hearing it for the first time. Sometimes it’s really like the track is being born again before my very eyes (or ears), it really takes on a life it never had before. It’s an unbelievable feeling. After all, I don’t care what kind of electronic music you make, it’s all meant to be heard on a big system. Period.

One of the most surreal things is hearing one of your tracks in a completely unexpected setting or context, like being at an event and hearing a DJ play it, or hear it on the radio in someone’s car. It’s so surreal that there have been a few times it took quite some time for it to register that it was even my track, it seemed so bizarre to hear it out of the context of my house or studio. There have been times I had to sit and think about where I knew the track from (haha)… One time I was in a promoter’s car when he picked me up from the airport, and one of my songs came on the radio. It was pretty hilarious, I remember saying ‘Damn, this sounds familiar, but I can’t remember who this is. I think I used to play the shit out of this track back when I DJed. Damn, that shit’s gonna bug me now!’ before he just looked at me like I needed to be committed, awkwardly uttering, “Uhhhh, dude, that’s your album.” (haha) so yeah, context can be a powerful factor.

Audition-wise, no one but me ever hears anything I make before the label, and then the rest of the world. So when you buy the CD, you’re the only other person in the world besides me and the label to ever hear it. I don’t audition it through anyone or ask anyone’s opinion. If I love it, and it says what I want it to say, that’s all that matters to me. I’m super lucky to have a family of labels that agrees with my opinion more than not.

Do you ever procrastinate? If so, what do you usually find yourself doing during those times?

It happens sometimes, just like I think it happens to anyone. There are times when I work like a bat out of hell 24-hours a day for weeks or months at a time, and others when I can’t seem to get my shit together to save my life. Inspiration comes as an avalanche or nothing at all. Like everything in my life, there’s really no middle ground. A lot of the time I spend suspended in the most frustrating of places, with my mind wanting things to happen, but the rest of me just not being a team player. If 100% of me is not 100% invested in it, then I’d much rather make nothing at all. So all I can do is wait until all my planets align. More hippie-dippy shit, I know.

Like anyone on the planet I have my lazy spells where I really just don’t do something because I can’t muster up the jam for it, but more often than not it’s my chronic and sometimes manic depression that gets the better of me, and can take me out for days, weeks, or even months at a time. There are times when depression can be the best motivator and inspiration on the planet when it comes to music, it’s been responsible for some of my greatest and most well-known works. But it’s a fine line, and when that line is crossed, you just shut down. Nothing in the world means anything. I just go numb. I care about nothing, and no one, and I somehow get up in the morning and go to sleep at night, but I’m not alive. I’m lucky in that I am very clear what’s happening during these times, I know exactly what it is and that it will eventually pass, though I never really know when. All I can do is wait. I can’t make any real decisions in that state, because though I’m ‘rational’ in that I know what my state is, I don’t make rational decisions, and in the past I’ve completely deleted months and years of work because I thought it was all bullshit, only to severely regret it when I came back to ‘normal’ (in quotes because with me that’s a sliding scale). And my depression most often manifests itself in pretty intense rage, which is also not the best time for decision-making, especially concerning something you’ve spent months or years of your life on.

So during that time I can only stay far away from music for a second to make me realize how much I need it. Because especially in the throes of depression, you start to think there’s nothing in the world that you need, or that means anything. But that being said, you need a life outside of music sometimes either way, and I usually spend it lost in video games, the few TV shows I religiously follow (especially Sons of Anarchy and Justified), or simultaneously yelling at and fawning over my cats, which is always a good go-to.

Sometimes it becomes a vicious circle, where then I do actually fall into my own procrastinating that I can’t blame on depression or anything else (and what could be worse than shit you can’t blame on something or someone else?) because it becomes conscious, as I grow too used to putting things off, even though the original reason was out of my control. But there’s a reason for all that too, and I think the procrastination is your mind and body telling you to chill out and find some balance, just like in physical training when you overtrain, your body tells you really clearly in numerous ways to chill the fuck out and rest for a few days. And if you don’t listen, it will make you regret it. Over the years I’ve learned that for me, all I can do is wait it out and listen to my mind and body. Things will happen as they should happen.

I’m in this for life. A few days, weeks, or even months don’t matter. Not if you’re hopefully making something that at least someone in the world will remember forever. And that’s always the hope.

bvdub.org

Tropic of Cancer Restless Idylls Blackest Ever Black Camella Lobo’s latest solo release as Tropic of Cancer continues her melancholy trajectory of post-everything gloom. It’s a much more cohesive album than her previous mini-album, 2012’s The End of All Things, which still had some holdovers of her time recording as a duo with Juan Mendez (a.k.a Silent Servant). Consisting of 8 tracks over 40+ minutes of playback, it’s the longest collection of music I’ve heard yet from the project, but it floats by like a dream. The arrangement of plodding, simple drums, bass guitar, and persistent synth pads immediately reminds me of The Cure’s 1981 album Faith. The other logical touchpoint to me is vintage Factory Records, including the most sedate and stripped down Joy Division or early New Order tracks (the tiny drum machine loops that ground “Hardest Day” or the more reverberated toms of “Wake the Night,” especially). I suppose one minor note could be that Lobo’s sound is so uniform as to be a bit monochromatic (in this case, the color is a dismal grey, despite the vibrant palette of the cover art), but somehow that reinforces the entire Tropic of Cancer aesthetic. One of the real highlights is the ever so slightly darker edge of “The Seasons Won’t Change (And Neither Will You),” with its harrowing bassline and ghostly vocals. Much like Liz Harris’s vocals for Grouper, I rarely can even make out Lobo’s lyrics at all, but I also question whether that even matters; Restless Idylls is more of a mood or a state of mind than a set of songs to me, one in which it’s well worth immersing yourself.		Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement Black Magic Cannot Cross Water Blackest Ever Black This 2012 work by Hospital Productions head honcho Dominick Furnow (aka Prurient, Vatican Shadow, Exploring Jezebel and River Magic among a dozen others) might be my favorite of his that I’ve heard. It’s a stark, ambient album split into 2 concise halves (under 30 minutes total running time), and based on how it sounds I’d refer to the first half as the “dry side” and the other as the “wet side.” The dry side begins with a faint descent into the void, minimal electronics immersed in deep reverb; its 15 minutes are divvied up into thirds, with the first being the most minimal, before some synths a tinge darker than John Carpenter enter the mix. There’s an ebb and flow to the ambience of this music that makes it feel like a dark, buoyant sea, appropriate for a track called “Homes Built Over the Sea.” So there is a dryness implied by its title as well as its sound, eventually shifting focus toward punctuated synth tones and oscillating drones. The “wet side,” “Refuges From Black Magic,” begins where the first left off only to introduce a steady stream of rainfall which never relents. It shares a similar arc with the other half, shifting between murky, almost opaque atmosphere and touches of sub-bass rumble. It’s a far cry from Furnow’s more confrontational sounds as Prurient or Exploring Jezebel, but extremely effective. It’s both pitch black and somehow non-threatening, the peaceful center of a brutal storm. Blackest Ever Black reissued the remastered album on vinyl in 2013, but you’ll have a much easier time finding the digital version.
Lussuria The Truth Begins in Lies Hospital Productions Lussuria is one of the dark horses running with the Hospital Productions label. His/her/their sound is dark and severe, with a cold impression that recalls the dark ambient heyday of Roger Karmanik’s Cold Meat Industry label. The Truth Begins in Lies was originally issued on cassette in 2012, but it’s seen a new digital issue that makes the music more readily available. This version is still split into two sides, so to speak, with a few pieces that blend together in each main track. The sound conjures up images of a post-apocalyptic dystopia, hazy with fog and decay. But it’s not all bleak: “La Verita Comincia Dalle Bugie” has a long passage of airy, repetitive pads that suggest renewal. “Pray at the Tomb of Blessed Mother Cabiria” is an extended assortment of dismal drones over an almost maddening pattern of telephone touch tones. This pattern persists even after a thick layer of post-industrial grime coats it, giving it an uncomfortable edge. The repetition of “Pray at the Tomb” is simultaneously fascinating and unnerving; that balance of unpleasantness and something almost serenely bleak is at the core of this music.		Raime Hennail Blackest Ever Black Two tracks from the ghostly duo known as Raime, who are the same people behind the Blackest Ever Black label. I liken their music to the spooky post-punk that pre-dated goth rock, channeling the cool vibe of Joy Division and The Cure at their most ghostly. Martin Hannett would likely approve of their aesthetic with its spacious, crisp production. But what then of its plodding repetition and reverberated samples? That sort of thing that takes me back to the early days of Cold Meat Industry once again, or Projekt’s “darkambient” releases… in a very, very good way, mind you! I think I prefer the 2nd track for that reason. “You Will Lift Your Frame Clear” combines rhythmic repetition with a wandering sort of series of pads and samples in a way that feels stately and classic. “Told and Collapsed” on the other hand is through and through “All Cats Are Grey” styled pre-goth sparseness, until taut currents of feedback and effects ripple through its final stretch; vocal yelps punctuate it with some added drama as well. It’s a cool timeless sort of sound, throwing back to that pivotal post-punk era with oblique references to what’s followed.

blackesteverblack.blogspot.com | hospitalproductions.net

All words by Matthew Mercer of Ear Influxion
Additional editorial by HC

Maxim Reality, born Keith Palmer, is a British musician known for being a member of The Prodigy. But Maxim is not only an MC spitting lyrics for the singles Poison, Breathe and Mindfields, he’s also a constantly touring DJ and a solo artist. I caught up with Maxim for a quick interview to talk of his DJ debut, remixes, and studio work with Liam Howlett.

Hey Maxim, where are you these days and what have you been up to this weekend?
Hey, I live in the UK as you probably know and I have been painting for the last couple of days I’m working on some new ideas.

Tell us about your solo DJ debut. How did this tour come about?
It came about from my desire to DJ in the US. The electronic scene is thriving there at the moment and I wanted to be a part of it, plus my set now has a lot of trap tunes in it so the US is definitely where I want to be.

On your promo mix I hear a lot of trap, footwork and hip-hop. How did your taste in music change over the years?
Footwork??? I haven’t heard that one before haha the titles make me laugh because it’s all just electronic dance music. My taste in music is very diverse but I have always been into heavy beats so anything with that edge is up my street.

How much, would you say, a success of any artist these days, depend on touring around the globe?
Touring is an integral part of any band/ dj career. If you want to be successful you have to get out there and let people see you live or your career will be short lived.

What are some of the challenges in delivering a successful DJ mix that pleases the crowd?
I’m not a house dj so I’m not hooked on blending tracks into each other and that are similar sounding. I drop tunes im into so hopefully that gets the crowd going that’s the whole idea of liking different dj’s you hear their style and either your into that particular dj’s style or not.

What other remix projects or collaborations are you working on these days?
At the moment I’m working with Cianna Blaze writing tracks with her so that’s my focus at the moment when I get time

I know that you, Liam and Keith are currently in the studio working on the next release. What can we expect from The Prodigy in 2014?
You will have to wait and see :-)

mm-gallery.com

Andy Stott and Miles Whittaker once again don their female pseudonyms for this debut full-length, coming some years after a rather intriguing set of 12” singles on the Daphne imprint. While a couple of those tracks have also found their way onto the lineup here, most of the album is new, recorded in the last year or so, it would seem. The opening track, “GIF RIFF,” is more of a palate cleanser than delivering on expectations from anyone familiar with the duo’s other output; it begins with a curious sample of indigenous chanting before turning into a syncopated, spacious set of rhythmic sounds not unlike the more industrial side of Nurse With Wound.

Miles Whittaker proclaimed in a recent FACT magazine interview (well worth a read), “Too many people are really too serious about what they’re doing. And in the end a lot of music’s just fun to make.” Strong words from one half of Demdike Stare, an outfit that’s made traditionally uncompromising and often difficult, sprawling music over the last several years. Andy Stott also is not an artist I’d associate with casual or flippant humor in his music. He’s been exploring curious terrain for several years now, shifting focus from the streamlined techno of his Unknown Exception (Modern Love, 2008) compilation of previously released tracks and instead diving headlong into music that sounds like drum & bass or dance music trends slowed down and turned sideways. His Luxury Problems release in 2012 remains one of the strongest leftfield dance albums of the past decade.

What made those early Daphne 12”s most memorable is that they have a rather fun spirit about them, even if the music itself isn’t necessarily joyous or bright. The duo are clearly mining dance music’s checkered past, through references to breakbeat, jungle, rave culture, and more, though experienced through each artist’s rather particular musical lens. “Stay Ugly” is the first proper rhythmic track after the opener, living up to its name with an almost unnecessary layer of bass-heavy distortion. If not for that coarse surface treatment, the track otherwise is almost jaunty, with swelling pads and clattering mid-tempo breakbeat patterns.

In that sense, it’s perhaps perfect that the third track is “Temper Tantrum,” originally released in the first run of singles in 2009. Its jerky broken beat and donk bass, in combination with skittering fills, smooth pads, and tiny disembodied vocal samples, feels like a love letter to the dance music of the past while also being a fresh document of the here and now. Perhaps that is my favorite thing about their collaborations, that they make all sorts of inside references to the music of their youth and the past without it feeling cloying or overly ironic, or even fully necessary to notice in order to appreciate the tracks for what they are. In the end, good dance music stands on its own, and these tracks are no exception.

“Spectral Source” follows as another previously released track, again flitting across several micro-genres without any allegiance to one in particular; there are tinges of burgeoning trends of bass music of the time (2009) with a genuine spirit of playfulness and curiosity. It shouldn’t be surprising that “Corrosive” is a newer track, with a sound that is a tad darker, picking up from its respective creators’ more distorted and recent lexicons. There are shades of Miles’ harsh and distorted works on his recent Faint Hearted album and its Unsecured companion EP, and the weird lo-fi slowdowns of Stott’s Luxury Problems finds its way into the mix here and there, but it is the homage to dance music’s past — in this case, late 90s sputtering hardstep — that provides the most entertaining element in this track.

That stop/start sample triggering continues on the title cut, the most overtly rhythmic and least melodic track on the album, with almost no supporting elements aside from an occasional stark pad sweep. “Back Down” combines the rough edges of “Stay Ugly” or Demdike Stare’s recent Test Pressings series with elements of old school techno and some of the swirling slow-motion sounds of Andy Stott’s recent album. The album doesn’t overstay its welcome at eight tracks, ending with the beatless, languid forms of “Quay.” The contrast of swooning, looped phrases and grimy digital surface noise is effective, reinforcing the sense of contrast that informs most of the album in a more serene way.

Like the solo music of its creators, these tracks reveal their personality and appeal over time, making it an album that wasn’t an instant love affair for my ears. But several listens in, I can appreciate the magic in their collaborations. I applaud their respective successes (Miles and Demdike Stare on the one hand, Andy Stott on the other) but am glad the two were able to put their heads together with some new perspective to keep the project alive and better than ever.

modern-love.co.uk

Words by Matthew Mercer of Ear Influxion

Frank Bretschneider is a Berlin-based electronic musician working with sine waves, white noise, and other primitive signals as source material for his compositions. In 1995, along with Olaf Bender, Bretschneider founded the monumental Rastermusic label, which subsequently merged with Carsten Nicolai‘s offshoot to become what is known today as Raster-Noton. Bretschneider continues to release music, with his most recent album, Super.Trigger out on Raster-Noton in 2013.

Let’s start at the very beginning. Can you tell us how you got involved in composing, and what was your very first piece of gear?
I took my first steps to make music in 1983 and my first instrument was my sister’s acoustic guitar. Since she never used it, I took it and turned it into an electric one by replacing the nylon strings with steel strings and mounting a single coil pick up. My sister was crying and had a breakdown. But actually I wanted to make electronic music and I was fascinated by the idea to use the studio as an instrument: Just to record the sounds and to sculpt the piece itself with the help of studio technology: mixing, EQing, tape manipulations, etc. I had a pretty good tape machine at this time, a german Uher SG 561 Royal with variable speed and three heads. So I used its various features to turn the guitar tracks into kind of electronic sounds: bouncing, cutting and looping, fasten or slowing down the speed, adding echoes and delays. Soon I bought some more gear, a second guitar, an electric harmonium, a small DJ mixing desk, a second tape machine and some microphones. And in 1985 I established a label called klangFarBe to publish my music via compact cassette tapes in a very limited edition.

How many different studio iterations have you gone through, and what does your final setup look like right now?
After that first kind of bedroom studio setup I had some better equipment eventually, my first synth for example, a Korg MS-20. In 1988 I switched to MIDI sequencing with running the C-Lab Supertrack software on a Commodore 64 home computer. My first MIDI synth was a Casio CZ-101 and a Yamaha FB-01 sound module then. And an multi-track recorder later on, the Tascam 238 Syncaset. It had 8 tracks on standard compact cassette tape and I used 7 tracks for recording analog sounds and microphones and one track for the MIDI clock signal, for synchronization with the computer. Finally in 1993 I was able to build up a more professional studio together with Olaf Bender. There we were starting our Rastermusic label in 1996. It served also as our office till I moved to Berlin in 2000. We were switching slowly from analog to digital, using still a lot of analog gear for the sound, but recording was digital to DAT and then transferring it back to HD with Digidesign Audiomedia sound card and Sounddesigner software for editing. By the time when I released my first Album “Saat” and Logic was only used for MIDI sequencing and controls. Since I live in Berlin I have just a small home recording place again, wouldn’t really call it a studio. But since I work mainly alone and for myself, it’s enough. And when it comes to mastering I prefer the help of a professional studio/engineer.

Tell us about your favorite piece of hardware.
It’s still my Clavia Nord Modular which I bought in 1998. It was love at first sight and I never would sell it. I spent days and nights in exploring its functions. I love the endless possibilities to generate any kind of sound because of its modular structure. Some of my earlier releases, “Rand” in 1999 as well as “Rausch” from 2000, were made entirely with the Modular. For the editor software I still have a Mac G4 running OS 9. It includes some nice sequencer features too, but I rather use the Elektron Octatrack step sequencer and arpeggiator, that’s a really nice pair. The Nord’s sound is generated in virtual analog, using DSP processors, so it might not reach the power of a real big analog modular system, but it’s a very versatile piece of gear and I used it heavily again for a new album.

And what about the software that you use for production?
I use Live and Logic. The first for creating ideas and quick sketches and the latter for fine-tuning and arrangements. A few of plug-ins too, namely the Soundhack delay trio for weird delays, the Audio Damage Automaton to mangle sounds and the Korg Wavestation soft synth. I had the real one and used it heavily during the 90s and really like the sound and concept. But unfortunately I had to sell it and was more than happy to find finally the reincarnation in form of a software.

Is there a particular piece of gear that you’re just dying to get your hands on and do you think one day you’ll have it?
A nice Buchla system or similar would be something I’d like to try, but I guess I will never possess one myself. Fortunately I have a residency at EMS studio in Stockholm in July this year, where I’m able to work with a Buchla as well as Serge modular system. So I hope it will help me to finish a piece of a more complex and abstract music I work on already for a while.

What does your live setup look like, and what do you bring with you when you travel for an extensive tour?
I had some trouble with missing or late arriving gear, as well as certain issues with customs and/or border check authorities in the past. So I prefer to travel only with hand luggage and my live setup is pretty minimal. I usually bring the Elektron Octatrack for the sound and a MacBook Pro running Modul8 for the visuals. It’s still pretty versatile: I can run prepared sound as well as playing and arranging live with the step sequencer and audio controls, and at the same time controlling the visuals via the MIDI section of the Octatrack.

What is the most important environmental aspect of your current workspace and what would be a particular element that you would improve on?
It’s highly functional and there is nothing what I wouldn’t use daily – or at least very often. It’s pretty tidy too, I cannot work in middle of a mess. Everything is connected and ready to use by switching the main switch. Unfortunately it is not really sound-proof at high volume levels, that’s something I have to improve.

What can you tell us about your overall process of composition? How are the ideas born, where do they mature, and when do they finally see the light?
Ideas are born almost everywhere and always, that’s the easiest part. It might be a book/story I read, a movie, a concert, an exhibition I saw. It could arise from a dream, during travel or when I surf the internet. The tricky thing is to convert an idea into music. Quick results are always a bit suspicious for me. So it often takes ages from first sketches to the final piece, and is an occasionally painful process. And sometimes it turns out that the original idea isn’t so sustainable or important anymore. Then I bury the unfinished bits and pieces in my archive, maybe using them for another project one day again. If everything goes well and I’m able to finish enough songs worth to release an album, I will put them together and look for a label to publish.

After the piece is complete, how do you audition the results? What are you reactions to hearing your music in a different context, setting, or a sound system?
Usually I leave a track for a while after it is finished, to get a bit a distance. It sounds so different after a month or so. And then I prefer to play it to friends, at my place or theirs, at different spaces, using various sound systems. I always feel immediately what’s wrong or right with a piece when listening to it in the presence of another person.

Do you ever procrastinate? If so, what do you usually find yourself doing during those times?
There are always moments I’m forced to make a break, it might be a decision of how to proceed further or just being tired from listening. I make me a coffee, something to eat, cleaning up the room or go out for a walk. There are interruptions from phone calls or messages, so sometimes I try to escape by working at night, but this also change the overall mood and the sound significantly. Actually I try to work on music each day and prefer to continue over longer periods, but there is always paperwork and software updates and agreements, requests, daily emails, maintaining website and social media. Concerts and openings, and friends to meet too. So actually I’d need a better time management, but I’m not good with, and sometimes I get a bit lost and it’s hard to focus again afterwards.

For more, read Headphone Commute’s Interview with Frank Bretschneider on Super.Trigger.

frankbretschneider.de

Here comes another beautiful installment in Headphone Commute’s podcast series – I hope you’re keeping up! Today we welcome you into the world of Christophe Ywaska who runs a weekly experimental music radio show in Bruges, Belgium under the guise of Klankschap. The dazzling selection of tracks walks down the memory lane of psychedelic electronica, experimental ambiance, spoken word and many other familiar sounds, and is especially appealing to a waking mind, “slowly, dopily, wandering up and down the streets like Welsh opium-eaters, half asleep in a heavy bewildered daze.” Here’s more from Klankschap:

Moments of yesteryear, unfolding
moments of joy, reversing
introspection, moulding
feverish shadow
of excitement
and unspoken fear

To cope with losses
Overcoming, obtaining
what we could no grasp…

Play loud___Eyes closed

villabota.com/radio/programma/klankschap

[ STREAM ] | [ DOWNLOAD ] | [ PODCAST ] | [ iTUNES ]

Listening to Ryan Hunn‘s debut full-length as Illum Sphere I can’t help but nod my head in recognition of the many recognizable influences spawning from the iconic Ninja Tune label. I would even claim that Ghosts Of Then And Now is the definitive Ninja Tune album sprinkled with the aesthetic notes of the label’s founders, Jonathan More and Matt Black, collectively known as Coldcut, as well as works by Bonobo, The Cinematic Orchestra, Skalpel and the likes. As I’m listening to the album, “Near The End” appears to be the most exemplary of the pieces befitting that style. I hope to say all this in a very positive light – after all, I’ve been a huge fan of the label, consuming pretty much every single release since its creation in the 90s, and Illum Sphere is a very welcome rebound.

In 2010 the label celebrated its 20th anniversary with a massive boxset titled Ninja Tune XX (a prized volume in my collection), and seemed to be somewhat quiet afterwards, with a few remixes and EPs. Two years later, Ninja Tune returned with its familiar roster of quintessential artists, such as Yppah, Amon Tobin and Blockhead, only to amaze us even further with the signing of Eskmo, FaltyDL and Machinedrum – artists put on the world stage by Planet Mu. Was this the new and morphing Ninja Tune, luring away musicians advancing in juke, dubstep, and bass music spearheaded by Mike Paradinas‘ archetypal imprint, or was this simply the new sound of Ninja Tune? Whatever the answer may be to that burning question, with Illum Sphere the UK label reassures its audience that its staple “ninja-tunesque” sound is here to stay, and Hunn may just be the man to resurrect its glamour and allure.

Ghosts Of Then And Now is not limited by a particular genre, but it does hold a certain air of an overall encompassing style. Although the album’s cover suggests a somewhat dark and noir-fi journey (I first thought of music by Demdike Stare and Raime), the musical progression is often surprisingly light, jazzy and upbeat. The release opens up with quiet shuffles, vinyl crackle and subtle piano notes, only to evolve into cinematic loops à la Harmonic 33‘s Extraordinary People with a light drumming hand of Shigeto. The album features a few female vocals and samples courtesy of Bonnie Baxter (aka Shadowbox), who’s also credited with writing three out of thirteen tracks (there’s an extra “Hand Shadows” piece available only on Japanese edition). Hunn cleverly weaves in elements of footwork, spacey synths, and progressive bass music to compose a seductive and smokey groove, ripe with lush and savory appeal.

Although Ghosts Of Then And Now is Hunn’s first proper studio album, he did appear on a handful of eclectic imprints with EPs since 2009. See his debut single, Long Live The Plan (Fat City, 2009) as well as Dreamstealin’ / Blood Music (Tectonic, 2011) and Birthday / h808er (Young Turks, 2012). Give the album a single spin, and you’ll be coming back again and again, especially if you’re a fan of Ninja Tune. Also recommended if you like Thievery Corporation, Submotion Orchestra, and The Emancipator. It’s great to see one of my favorite labels furnishing a durable platform for today’s electronic music pioneers, and Illum Sphere is clearly one of them!

illumsphere.com | ninjatune.net

Words by HC