[Harbour City Sorrow]

“True house music” — the term rolls off the tongue these days, and many would have you believe it cannot be made without 707 handclaps and an MPC full of Gil Scott Heron quotes. Not only does this kind of thinking limit one’s creativity, it ignores a very fruitful decade of house made in (and with) the digital age. Consider, however, electro: it’s hard to even conceive of the sound without the 808, and since the Drexcyen storms it’s remained relatively unchanged. It’s an older genre than house or techno, and perhaps its age reinforces certain sonic restrictions; if anything were to fall under Justice Potter Stewart’s “I know it when I [hear] it” maxim, electro would be it.

E.R.P. is the electro alias of Convextion (Texas’ Gerard Hanson), and he’s been reliably putting out the good stuff for over 10 years. Lunar Ruins comes to us courtesy of Rotterdam’s Harbour City Sorrow, which (perhaps unsurprisingly) has close ties with Clone. And in case there were any doubt left that this is an electro record, the main stars of the title track are the 808 and SH-101. It’s a wonderful slice of moody Detroit goodness: an insistent, kinetic bass line cuts through shimmering minor-key pads and a sea of 808 toms, while “Into The Distance” reaches ecstatic heights and “Mimosa Canopy” mines the aquatic Drexcyen depths, resembling some of their more stoned, outré moments. Lunar Ruins doesn’t move electro far from where it’s been moored for the past 15 years, but then it doesn’t need to. Sounds phase in and out of popularity, and few more so than electro, which seems to be creeping into everything at the moment. But a handful of figures like E.R.P. stay true to this sound through thick and thin, and it’s our loss if we let gems like “Lunar Ruins” pass us by.

[Type Records]

Up on techno’s Mount Olympus sits Chain Reaction, content in the fact that few techno labels have ever been quite so revered. Where Basic Channel invented and perfected a sound, they drafted a team of like-minded cohorts to expand that sound, and records such as Vladislav Delay’s Multila and Vainqueur’s Elevation have few equals. Unfortunately, some of this stuff remains rather difficult to find (unlike Ernestus and von Oswald’s own work), and the task of reissuing it has been left to other institutions. Enter Type Records, a label that has consistently wandered the outskirts of techno without getting its proverbial feet wet. Their first “proper” techno record comes in the form of a reissue of Biokinetics, the fabled work of Porter Ricks (Thomas Köner and Andy Mellwig) and Chain Reaction’s first CD release. Like pretty much all of the CDs on Chain Reaction, this was mostly a collection of previously released 12″s, but the label and its artists had such a consistent sound that the CDs often flowed like proper albums.

As far as how the album sounds sonically, all the usual touchstones are represented: the steady thump, thump, thump of the kick cutting through leagues of hazy materials, the glacial pace at which those elements evolve, the extended runtimes. Dub techno has always seemed to have a very terrestrial, elemental quality to it, and these tracks reflect that in spades, especially given the explicit nautical references in the titles. “Port Gentil” and “Port of Call” are exemplary pieces of techno regardless of genre, but for those well versed in this scene’s history, the album contains few surprises. The notable exception, and clear highlight of the album, is “Biokinetics 2,” a cavernous, engrossing piece of music that has much more to do with Köner’s trilogy of dark drone works (also reissued by Type) than anything else on the album’s two pieces of wax.

The Nuba “suite” of tracks is the other standout moment, clicking away with mauled rhythms that have seemingly very little respect for the 4/4 kick’s sense of time. Everything here is immaculately produced and results in a deeply satisfying listen, but it’s a little difficult to shake the feeling of déjà vu. Biokinetics is very clearly a landmark piece of music that should be tracked down and purchased without hesitation, but the heads who have long deified this stuff will find there’s not a whole lot new to discover. How exciting (or not) a reissue is tends to come down to one’s familiarity with the scene that it came from, and given that the Basic Channel/Chain Reaction family is a permanent member of techno’s canon, I can imagine lots of Porter Ricks virgins enjoying the hell out of Biokinetics, but not necessarily having their minds blown.

[Swamp 81]

When we last left Pinch he had just emerged, bleary eyed and soot covered, from Shackleton’s subterranean lair. The duo’s stunning long-player mined the labyrinthine, murky depths there still unexplored, and our heroes surfaced with crates full of obsidian frequencies and a tarred Gregorian choir. Still a bit scarred from the experience, and with plenty of opaque minerals in tow, Pinch digests what happened on those adventures on his latest 12″ for Swamp 81. It’s a curious pairing indeed — “dark” is hardly the first word that comes to mind when face to face with Boddika’s party-ready electro, Ramadanman and Zed Bias’ 808 rhythm-composer-house, and J.O.’s cocaine powder, but Pinch has been here before with 2010′s heavy-weight Croydon House.

“Retribution” is all syncopated rhythms and frequency-space-spanning buzzes, forgoing any semblance of melody in favor of intense, threatening atmosphere. While it might be at techno-friendly tempos, the kick never once settles into an easy 4/4, even seeming as it’s changing its pattern almost every measure. B-side “Get Out Of Here” is just as menacing and more spacious, with only a handful of elements present, but each with a crowbar in one hand and blow in the other. All of this is to say that this is capital-”D” “Dubstep,” and even if most are hesitant to make this stuff, originators like Pinch still hold the torch up strong in the face of adversity. Shying away from the dubstep-techno movement of a couple years ago, Pinch drops the notion of a hybrid and instead takes those DMZ roots and evolves them in his own idiosyncratic direction, rather than towards already existing styles. A killer record for Pinch, and a highlight for a label full of them.

Some complain that the media (music related or not) focuses too much on constructed narratives, and in dance music one of the most compelling recent narratives has been the vital New York house scene. While many of the producers involved, from Levon Vincent to Nina Kraviz, have all gone off to do their own thing, they all share the same back story: they all came through Jus-Ed. The lynchpin of Northeastern deep house has jump-started many a career, as well as having a very impressive one himself. Unfortunately, not even dance music can escape the troubles of a struggling economy — one reason Ed recently brought Underground Quality into self-distribution. We got in touch with Ed to talk about the move, as well as the closing of Tape in Berlin, a club that has deep ties with the Underground Quality family. He also provided us with our 110th podcast: a special mix of his tracks (with some guest cameos) dedicated to the closing of the club.

LWE Podcast 110: DJ Jus-Ed (62:20)

Tracklist

01. Ed & Fred, “Ed & Fred P. Project” [Underground Quality]
02. DJ Jus-Ed, “Joey A. Bass Revise” [Underground Quality]
03. DJ Jus-Ed, “Confussed Passion” [Underground Quality]
04. DJ Jus-Ed, “Trip To Hamburg” [Underground Quality]
05. DJ Jus-Ed, “Lost In Berlin” [Underground Quality]
06. DJ Jus-Ed, “Mr. Pete’s Crib” [Underground Quality]
07. DJ Jus-Ed, “Immortal Tape 2011″ [Underground Quality]
08. DJ Jus-Ed, “Ed In The House 2″ [Underground Quality]
09. DJ Qu, “Movements” [Underground Quality]

Underground Quality recently made the move to self-distribution. Why?

Edward McKeithen: Let’s see if I can put it in a nutshell. Okay, the way I’ve always operated is I’ve always pressed the records based on how strong I felt the record was; it would vary from 500 to 2,000 copies on the first run. Then I would write the individual distributors and see who’s interested. One distribution company had felt that they could sell whatever I pressed. So we had a mutual business agreement where they took whatever I pressed. I would never sign any contract to be solely distributed by one company, but since the company took the complete run, then technically they have exclusivity, you know? It just wasn’t in writing. It worked out well, but then there was a chink in the system, and there was a miscommunication and understaffing. On my end, I had three records ready to ship, and we couldn’t get together, and it was tax season, and I had a large amount of money that I had vested in pressing the vinyl, as well as a large amount of bills. They were unable to take all the records, which left me in a financial bind.

It needs to be stressed that there was no malice — it just was business. Something came up, and I didn’t have a backup plan or a cushion to fall on. So that left me with no choice but to hustle the records out, and I decided that I would just sell direct from now on to whoever could buy and ship the records. This way I’ll always have some income, as opposed to waiting on one person. My income was based on one company, and I couldn’t do that anymore. I have small children, and I have a lot of debt, financial debt, on me and I need to have money coming in. So that seemed like the best plan. I told them what I was going to do; it wasn’t like I took my toys and ran. I said, “Look, I’ve got to do this. I have to sell these records. I have to open the door up so that I can keep food on the table.” And they understood.

You also recently started a collaborative label with Jenifa Mayanja.

Jenifa is a much better producer than I am — you know, she actually makes “music.” My music is beats and grooves and they have some melodies and some vibes, not putting myself down, but there’s still so much that I need to learn. Unfortunately her name is not as strong or popular as mine. I reached a point in a career where I could put [out] a track that I would deem okay, but because it said “Jus-Ed” on it, the venues will stock it because I’ve had good reputation and good sales under DJ Jus-Ed or Underground Quality. The label has a such a strong reputation for quality music that a lot of customers take the records without even listening to them. And I remember I used to be like that with, like, Masters At Work and Ibadan. With Kerri Chandler, you knew that it was going to be the shit. This is what I’ve worked hard for since day one: to have a reputation like that.

Jen is — well, we’re not legally married yet, but this is common law; we say we’re husband and wife. She’s my wife, she’s my partner, she’s the mother of my kids, and she deserves a fair shake just like anybody else. But the industry is tough on women. And the women that are up front — they had to hustle. It can be difficult when you have two creative people and they want to stand on their own. You don’t want to be perceived as riding on someone else’s coattails. Like when Omar-S put out my first track on his label, he told me to wait until that run sold to put my record out. I had it pressed, but I didn’t want people to think that I was riding on his success or that I was claiming to be from somewhere I’m not. That’s why I’ve always put the emphasis on it: “I’m not from New York; I’m from Bridgeport, Connecticut.” This is who I am — this is where I live, this is where I make my music, this is where the music is from: Bridgeport, Connecticut. I’m very proud from where I come from.

You could put on all the artwork [and] packaging you want — that does count for some sales — but what really sells the music is the music. If the music isn’t good, it’s not going to sell. For Jen, she’s my wife. I mean, you would expect her to take liberties, which she hasn’t since we’ve been together. But financially, first of all, it makes sense. We should work together. That money is at home; it’s in our house. If one end is not hitting or being successful or whatever, then we should be helping so that the other end does continue to be successful. It’s the only way we’re going to make it in Connecticut, in this time, and in this economy. When you’re with a creative person with your partner, there’s a thin line that you do not cross. You have to wait and leave things alone until your partner is ready to make a move or work together. When you come together organically and the terms are met evenly, then it flows. It jumped off nicely with our first record, EDJ-001. We did a limited pressing. We knew that to a certain degree, that there would be X amount of copies sold right away just for the simple fact — for the novelty fact, that it’s a husband and wife thing. Oliverwho [Factory], I believe, is the other husband and wife team, right?

Right.

But it’s inevitable is that Jen will get the same platform — I mean I’ve done it for so many other artists. Starting out artists, introducing them — lending my audience to a new artist to broaden their horizons and stuff like that. You know, I’m here in the house, and I can hear these beats and these melodies coming out of the room. I’m like, “Jen, What is that? That’s you? Jesus Christ.’” I mean I’m good at what I do, but she’s really good at what she does. Producers always look at each other and we admire certain techniques or skills that make the producer special. What’s always the ongoing struggle with most producers is getting what’s in your head out. See, if we could get exactly what’s in our heads out, all of us would be paid, you know what I mean? It’s in our heads, but getting it out is a feat by itself. You know, producers like Charles Webster, Pépé Bradock, and Kaito — it seems like they were able to get in their head out based on the production, the way they told the story in the music. This is what makes it special.

How has the self-distribution thing affected the label? Do you think it’s a been a success so far?

As far as actually making money, yeah. As a result of this, it’s helped the label become more affordable to the retailer and the customer. When stores or wholesalers buy direct from the label, they are only paying the VAT and shipping fee. In Europe, the retail price was €11 to €14. But now, selling direct, my album is €16 (for the double). A year ago it would’ve been €20 and up.

Are you finding that you can get your stuff into the shops you want without distribution?

There are still shops that are unable to do shipping so they stay with distribution. I still sell to the distributors because with some record stores, that’s the only way the can get it. But now the distributor is no longer exclusively cornering the market on the records, so they have to make their prices more competitive because five or six other outlets have the record. So there’s no price gouging now, because of competition. It keeps the price right for the consumer. The more reasonably priced the record, the more it will sell.

It’s kind of tricky because the distribution doubles — some distribution companies double what they actually bought it for from the manufacturer. My records were so high coming from the distributor that the record store could only sell it for 11 euros, and after taxes and shipping, they were only making a euro on the record. So let’s say a record store has 500 euros a week as a budget. Even though this record that just came out from Underground Quality is the best thing out right now and everybody’s going to want it, I can’t risk buying 10 records and paying 70 euros when I could get 20 records for 70 euros. When I go shopping, if a record doesn’t possess at least three good tracks on it, I’m not paying 11 euros for it.

Yeah, of course.

Here in the States, I’ve bought imports for 18 or 20 dollars — two-siders. But they were absolutely brilliant. And I also knew that the masses are not going to buy it because it’s too expensive. But whoever made those records didn’t sell a lot. So there are a bunch of different variables, but I chose to educate myself on the street level. So every time I’ve traveled I always try to make it to the record stores, say hello, say thank you, ask them how much are they paying for the records, are they selling good here, [ask them] “What would make it a better sell for you?” And it’s always, “If the price was lower.” I say to myself, “Look, Ed, if you want people to keep buying records, you have to work out way so that the record store actually can make some money: sell direct.”

It looks like it’s working out pretty well. But again, it’s a hard push. Jen’s album, I think, for me personally, is way better than my album. Of course, I’m in a different genre of house music; they don’t compete with each other. But my album is for Jus-Ed heads, you know, Underground Quality heads that love the Jus-Ed sound. But hers is a proper album. Vocals, melody, there’s songs: this is traditionally what an album is supposed to be about.

You’ve done a couple parties at Tape, and you have one coming up January 27. These parties have always been a big deal for you. What’s your history with the club?

I got introduced to those guys through Ike Mueller. She is the one that booked me for Tape. She is a beautiful woman, and she is down with the underground sound 100 percent, and she’s booked a lot of underground talent at Tape. Then she moved on; she left Tape to pursue another promotional career somewhere — at another club. But I fell in love with the club, and the owner, Yoni [Margulies], and Tommy. Tommy is silent; his words are very, very expensive. He doesn’t have much to say, but he sees and hears everything. I love that dude. When you say “silent partner,” he would be the epitome of that. And Yoni is a die-hard house head and sound freak, you know, and all-out sweetheart. We hit it off, him and Uli. I said, ‘I want to come back here.’ In fact, this is — this is the perfect house club. This is the club that should be devoted for underground house music. Have you been?

No, I haven’t.

You really need to see that spot once before they tear it down. It’s like an oversized loft with a dope bar and a sound system that’s like headphones. Analog. So I said, “Yo, I would really like to do a label night here,” and we did. Me, [DJ] Qu, and Fred [P]. That was the first official UQ label night party — you know, a really life-changing experience. It was dope, we had a little over 400 people that showed up, and we killed it. I said in 2001 to Jen, “One day I’m going to be overseas, and I’m going to have my boys over there, and I’m going to be doing a party.”

In 2009 we did the big one. It was draining. Physically, emotionally, it was draining. Nobody actually believed in what I wanted to do. Lerato supported me, but she’s a promoter, and she has to deal with stuff that’s proven. So there’s a certain shadow of a doubt. The spirit was always there, and the support. Now, Yoni and his crew from a club owner’s sense, there’s always that mechanism of “It may not work.”

The club, rightfully, I mean they’re the ones providing sound systems, liquor, environment, security, and they need to make money to stay in existence, and what I was happy with was the fact that I was given an opportunity to take control of a club from the artistic standpoint. With six DJs it was tough, especially because it opens at midnight and, tentatively, it closes at six. You’re like, “How are you going to do that? I need a DJ playlist, I need a list of what order DJs are going to play in.” [I said] “There is none.” These parties are thrown based on the fact that it’s an Underground Quality event. It’s not artist based, and it’s the same formula — similar formula — that Berghain [and] Panorama [Bar] uses. It doesn’t matter what artist is going to be fuckin’ playing at that place. They didn’t build that club on the name of artists. They built that club on the name of the club. So the club will always exist because it’s known for having dope parties. The first thing that people say is, “Are you going to Berghain or Panorama?” And then the next question is, “Well, who’s going to be playing?” And some people may know and some people may not know; they just know that that place is the shit.

We started Underground Quality just for that purpose: so that when they saw the UQ label, they knew that it was going to be a good party. It didn’t matter what artists were going to be there or not. The other reason is that I also need to promote the new artists that come in — they need to have their platform. I’m able to introduce the artists as DJs. Therefore, the artists are — in maybe not so nice terms — they’re expected to give and play for the label. Not for themselves, not to make a name for themselves. This was the discussion that I had with the first round, with first six: Anton [Zap], Nina [Kraviz], Levon [Vincent], Qu, Fred, and myself.

I wanted to give to people who were earnestly supporting the scene — being a house head is a way of life. It’s a culture. There’s an underground house lifestyle that is being lived every day. And it’s not a fad — it only becomes a fad when the mass media decides, “Oh, we like it and we can make money off of this.” But after the hype blows off and all the posers disappear, there’s still that underlayment of people that actually live that way. Those are the people that you run into, like, you came to my house, and you’re like, “Yo, this looks like my friends house — ” because I got the turntables, I got the records everywhere, I got the CDs, I’m trying to show you the new music, this and that. We chill, we relax, and we eat. It’s the same kind of culture, no matter what country. Like Japan or Russia — you go to these people’s houses [and] they have their turntables, they have their records, they have their mixers, they have their CDs — it’s a culture. I’m like, “I want these people to come, that have been tossed about and abused and taken advantage of through the industry or marketing or just club-ism. I want them to come see me cause I understand, and I got what you need.”

Yoni and the staff are all house heads. So to get in bed with somebody who has the same ideology as far as what the experience should be, but is business orientated, it’s like, you know, you want to call your mom or your dad and say, “I found the perfect girl!” [laughs] My thing was that even if the event flopped, if nobody came, the press alone covering this at that time was so huge for the club that it helped establish them on the map. What else is brilliant is that a U.S. DJ/producer is going to throw a party in Berlin, where he can’t even get a residency in New York, in his own country. “Yo, this guy doesn’t even have a residency in the City, but he’s going to throw a label party in Berlin? What the fuck? Wait a minute, what is this label?” See? Curiosity. Got ‘em! Now it’s poppin’. [laughs]

The other thing is is that the artists — I said, “If you give your best to this night for the label, you show your gratitude for that, everybody here tonight will be elevated.” And they will tell you straight off the cuff, “I didn’t believe half of the shit Ed was saying.” Levon will be perfectly clear about that. The first year we traveled the circuit together, we were in Fabric, and he said, “I don’t fuckin’ believe this. You know everybody. And they really like you! You weren’t lying; this is like your living room.” This is not by luck. It’s an honor, it’s a blessing. It is bragging rights, but it is something that’s cultivated. You can’t fake shit like that, when you reach out to people and you be genuine. People want to be around real people. They really do, you know?

So how did the party go, then?

You’ve known me long enough to know that I don’t bullshit or over-exaggerate shit — when I tell you there were tears, grown men with tears in their eyes because they were moved. I had tears in my eyes. I started the night on a 20-minute rotation. I played, and then so-and-so came, [and I said] “Okay, you’re up next. Go in, play. Okay, so-and-so, go in, you’re up next.” And so everybody played with everybody. We rotated that for, like, two — two or three hours. Everybody got to play. As the place was filling up, we were rotating. [People said] “Oh, when is so-and-so playing?’ Did I miss such-and-such?” “Yes, you did, but they are coming back on. The main thing is is that you’re here now! Next time get here on time so that you don’t miss anything.” That’s the way I always go to a party. I go to the party as soon as the door is available for me to enter, because I don’t want to miss shit.

So I was mixing DJs. I was mixing the artists. I let them do what they came to do, and then I would put on another artist. But when Fred came on, that was Fred’s breakout moment, at that particular Underground label party. Me and Qu were standing on the dance floor, and Fred came on and it just — I could see in Fred’s face — I was looking at Fred’s face, and he had such a calm, intense look. He played out all that shit that came out last year on his label at the party. Kerstin [Tama Sumo] was behind me, and her cheeks were red, and Achim [Prosumer] was at the bar, and then Fred just went into this zone that just fucking killed it. That’s when I dubbed him the Jimi Hendrix of minimal house. I remember I was politely rude to somebody, and I told them, “Please do not disturb me at this time.” I just wanted to enjoy what was going on right there. Everybody was so excellent. I sucked, actually. I came on at the end. There was nothing else to be said, musically. I was just so happy and elated that I was able to have a dream come true, and we were successful.

Can you talk about the mix a little bit?

First of all, I want to say thank you, once again, to you and Little White Earbuds for supporting the underground scene like you do. And for being accurate, you know? Whoever wrote that “two mules” line — it just totally tickled me. That was a classy, classy line. [laughs] The mix is an introduction to the Endurance CD, UQ-044. It’s dedicated to the closing of Tape. Some of the tracks — ‘Immortal Tape,’ ‘Lost In Berlin,’ and ‘Confused Passion,’ those I made, actually, in the club. I have keys to the club. That’s the level of the relationship between Yoni and I. When I found out they were going to have to close because of the city making moves, the best way for me to make an impact was just to give my talent. I thought it would be nice to have a commemorative disc out that also represents the last UQ label night.

So what’s coming up for UQ?

This year, you’re going to get a lot of Jus-Ed tracks, a lot of Jus-Ed records. Because last year, I didn’t put out a lot of EPs. I did the album, and I did collaborations and stuff. On the joint label between me and Jen, which is called EDJ, we have EDJ-003 that’s going to be coming out.

And that’s another split 12″?

Yep, and it’s better than the first one. You know, we keep trying to make them stronger or better as we go along. I’m also going to put out this year unreleased remixes that I’ve done, you know, like Jus-Ed edits. Also, I’m supposed to play the Boiler Room on Wednesday, January 25th. Then I’m doing my regular radio show (Underground Quality Radio Show) at one o’ clock in Berlin (7PM EST) from club Tape.

[A Made Up Sound]

Despite being one of the most consistent producers out there (or perhaps because of?), Dave Huismans has never really shocked me. Over the years his music has slowed down, embraced and disengaged 4/4 kick patterns, and generally gotten deadlier — and I’ve eagerly snatched each missive and rinsed it to death — but he’s never strayed terribly far from his well-honed sound. “Take The Plunge” doesn’t really stray that far either, but the first time I heard it I was rather taken aback, wondering, “Is that seriously the hook?” Where 2010′s “Alarm” was goofy, the focal point of “Take the Plunge” is downright preposterous, but leave it to Huismans to get chromatic stuttering stuck in your head for weeks. Surrounded by drunken warehouse-sized bass drums and murky low end, it’s easily one of A Made Up Sound’s most crucial productions to date.

The B-side is no slouch either, as “Anger Mgmt” stumbles into each subsequent measure determined to induce four-to-the-floor jacking, but with too severe a case of delirium tremens to do so. It’s cosmetically a more reserved gem whose awkward rhythmic sensibilities make it stand out amidst a sea of DJ fodder, sounding almost as if Huismans had tried to make a straight techno tune but his machines were fed one too many gin and tonics to properly execute. The A-side’s “First Thought” grabs those skipping millisecond slices and pairs them with rapid-fire percussion for what would sound like a jackhammer to the ear canal were it not so playful. So while Huismans has proven time and again that he’s more than capable of making really good dance tracks, it’s these moments of playfulness that separate his good tracks from his really great tracks. File this one next to “Rear Window” and prepare for it to stay in your bag for a long time.

[Further Records]

Expectations can be dangerous. As record buyers, we bank on our expectations to guide us (eg. I’ll usually pull a Strictly Rhythm record before 1994 and not bother with anything after). We’re told to generally not be judgmental in life or form preconceptions, but with music these preconcieved notions are among the few things keeping us sane. So when it was announced that Donato Dozzy’s production partner Nuel would be putting out an album on Further Records, the corners of my brain that sort through Discogs pages and past techno news cycles fired up and informed me this would probably be somewhat similar to Dozzy’s K album. The duo’s coveted collaborations fetch fortunes, and Nuel’s solo work up to this point hasn’t been totally dissimilar to Dozzy’s. So while I expected an unusual take on techno, I didn’t expect something with tenuous-at-best ties to it.

Putting the needle on Trance Mutation unveils a world populated by some of the least techno sounds in existence: tabla and guitar. So many of the sounds on this album are organic that at first blush it seems wrong to even relate it to techno or electronic music as a whole; but one listen to opener, “Mentalism,” reveals a strain of music that has much in common with the shamanistic techno often found emanating out of teepees on Japanese mountaintops. Far from pulling a Brandt Brauer Frick or Elektro Guzzi, where bands using acoustic instruments make techno compatible music (often interestingly and enjoyably), Nuel made music that is decidedly removed from the contemporary club landscape. So while you likely won’t hear cuts like “Vibration” out at Berghain, it sounds like it could have been right at home at Roman orgies (a first-century Lab.Oratory?), with Maenads swaying to Nuel’s rhythms while off their heads on peyote.

It’s rather easy to tie Trance Mutation to the classical world, given its recording on the coast of the Adriatic and the use of truly timeless percussion. And while this record gets a lot of plays from me on Sundays as a mental salve after the weekend’s activities, it’s just as packed with hedonism as your favorite Radio Slave ketamine jam. Few records have toyed with my expectations so much recently, and it’s heartening to report that Nuel, in doing so, released a really stellar piece of work. It’s the kind of record that sounds like nothing else out there, even though Nuel could have undoubtedly made a great album by doing what was expected of him. This bucking of both trends and expectations is an admirable move in and of itself. Rather than being idiosyncratic for idiosyncrasy’s sake, Trance Mutation is, at the end of the day, an honest album from someone who sounds like they’ve been wanting to put out this music from day one. Trance Mutation as a title is particularly emblematic: few records reach the kind of hypnotism achieved here. Look no further for the soundtrack to your next bacchanalia.

New York has a long and storied history when it comes to dance music, but nowadays, with so much focus in the scene being allocated to Berlin and London, New York’s club scene has a bit of a “second [club] city” complex. And while many of the city’s big clubs leave much to be desired, digging a little deeper in the outer boroughs reveals a handful of world-class parties that stand up with the halcyon days of New York’s renowned tenure as dance music’s capital. Mister Saturday Night, helmed by Justin Carter and Eamon Harkin, is one of those parties. In only a couple years, Carter and Harkin have organized some of the very best loft parties in New York: bringing in extraordinary guests as well as becoming very accomplished DJs in their own right. In addition, the Mister Sunday (formerly Sunday Best) parties have become a summer institution — a day party beside the infamous Gowanus Canal where New Yorkers let their hair down while consuming delicious tacos and local brews. LWE caught up with Eamon and Justin at the start of 2012 to discuss the year that was, their ethos for the party, and Twitter beefs. They also provided us with our 108th podcast in advance of their January 14th appearance at Chicago’s Smart Bar: a distillation of the party’s sound into an hour and a half of house and techno both new and old.

LWE Podcast 108: Mister Saturday Night (88:20)

Tracklist:

01. Floating Points, “Myrtle Ave” [Eglo]
02. Jazzanova, “Let Me Show Ya” (Henrik Schwarz Remix) [Verve Records]
03. Jacob Korn, “Selene” [Running Back]
04. P. Éladan, “Monochordium I” [Muting The Noise]
05. The Opus, “Live 2″ (Instrumental) [Ozone Music]
06. Kode9, “Black Sun” [Hyperdub]
07. Alice Russell, “Take Your Time, Change Your Mind” [Tru Thoughts]
08. DJ Duke, “Tribal Journey” (Sun Mix) [Earth, Moon & Sun]
09. Wax/Sun Ra, “No. 30003″/”Space Is The Space” [Wax/Blue Thumb Records]
10. Black Science Orchestra, “Where Were You?” (Original Dope Demo)
[Junior Boy's Own]
11. Soul Center, “Psycho Set” [WvB Enterprises]
12. Eamon Harkin, “Rigor Music” (Roman Flügel Remix) [Throne of Blood]
13. Alfabet, “Lap The Music” [Rush Hour Recordings]
14. Club Ice, “Manhasset” (Space Mix) [Black Market Records]
15. Tazz, “Lost” [Underground Quality]
16. Underground Resistance, “Transition” [Underground Resistance]
17. Ramsey Lewis, “Party Time” [Cadet Records]

2011 seemed like a really big year for you guys.

Eamon Harkin: Yeah, it was a big year for us. I think a big part of that is the fact that we returned to this spot in Gowanus [Grove] for our outdoor party. And we had a really great run of 16 parties. Well, maybe 13 or 14 because we lost a few with rain. And that was great; we got a lot of momentum from that. A lot of people really loved that party and came out. One of the big themes for us this year was doing parties by ourselves and not having guest DJs. That was a purposeful strategy because that’s how we want to grow and develop the party, but also ourselves as DJs. That’s where we want to take the party. And it really worked.

Justin Carter: Yeah, because parties that are all about a guest are often really just vehicles for a guest. And of course we appreciate all the people who come and play with us, and we still bring in guests, and were not going to stop doing that — at least any time soon. When a party has a guest every single time, though, it can become a stage for someone else. And the whole reason we started the party in the first place was because we’re DJs, and we wanted to play records. And so we saw that there was an appreciation for us as DJs when we were playing alongside guests, and we also saw that we needed to start using this thing that we developed as a stage. We had this mission to really make the party into a party. Something that had it’s own identity, instead of having the identity of the guest. Mister Saturday Night has become this thing that has an identity in and of itself and isn’t about who’s playing — it isn’t even necessarily about Eamon or me. It’s just this thing that happens, that now it has a life of it’s own.

EH: And that’s the goal of the party: for it to be a party, to be a community. To be a thing in itself, to have a life of it’s own. So if there’s a guest there, the guest is a guest, rather than a headliner. He, or she, adds musical variety. There are some parties across the globe that do that well, and I think we achieved something similar this year. That’s been the most satisfying thing.

Is there any party in particular that stood out to you?

JC: You know, it’s funny because it was probably the least-attended party of the whole year. There was a string of crazy rain that happened in August, and there was one day where the party got cancelled because it looked like it was going to be torrential. And then it wasn’t torrential. So we were sitting at home looking outside at a beautiful sky, and then the next Sunday we were like, “We’ve got to do the party no matter what.” The weather forecast was awful, and ended up being awful just like it said it was going to be. I think maybe 150 to 200 people came. That was one of those moments where we realized that there are still people that will come out to see us in a crazy downpour and have an amazing time. It was an incredible party.

The party has taken place in a handful of venues. What do you look for in potential spaces?

EH: First and foremost we look for something that’s comfortable. The commonality among all the spaces is that they all have wooden floors. That’s really important for a dance floor, for us. We want it to feel warm, we don’t want it to feel like a reverberating warehouse. We want it to be a kind of place where you would want to hang out. And you can be social, but you can also just get on the dance floor and get on with it. 12-turn-13 definitely has that; it’s almost a legendary venue in New York at this point. House of Yes definitely has it, and the place on Scholes Street had it as well, to a certain degree.

JC: I think another thing that we look for is a positive relationship with whoever is in charge of a space. We continue to have a very good relationship with all three of those places. The people who run those spaces are reasonable, smart, creative people who are not trying to angle on you at all. They’re just really good people to work with.

EH: Which kind of comes back to what we’re all about in the first place, which is an experience, you know? And a community-based experience that is about people interacting and music. You don’t get that unless every person involved is in line with that vision, and unless you’re in a space that facilitates that.

What parties in the past have influenced the way you approach the Mister Saturday Night parties?

JC: Well, the first party that I went to in New York, period — before I knew anything about parties or DJs at all — was Body and Soul. I just went there because a guy on the hall in my dorm, he had an older boyfriend who was part of this old-time club scene, so literally the first Sunday that I was in New York City I went to Body and Soul. The elements that made that party so good were, of course, the music and the sound system, but really there was this great cross section of people. It felt like a real community, so that’s definitely an influence. It’s not like every time we think about our party we’re thinking about how we can make it more like Body and Soul or whatever Eamon’s influences are. That’s just what my original experience of a party was, and what a great experience for that to be. I don’t really have any nostalgia for raves or that side of dance music. I don’t really have any nostalgia at all. The only thing that I really knew in the beginning was Body and Soul, and so I think that probably just naturally has an influence on me.

EH: Years ago I was living in London, and my entry point into DJ culture was through post punk and indie music, basically. I think that the initial influences on me, and really what turned me on to DJs, were people like Optimo and Erol Alkan, when he was doing his Trash party in London. My sister was living in Glasgow at the time, so I’d go and see her and go to Optimo, and then when I was student I’d go to Trash. And those, for me, were great because it was the kind of music that I was more accustomed to at the time, and they were also communities — that’s the thing I’ll always come back to. It’s kind of rising above and beyond just the music or the club.

JC: Was Trash heavily focused on guests?

EH: No. Well, they were parties. That’s the thing: a party can’t become a party if it’s always about guests. Because you have no continuity. Right? And so the continuity comes from people pushing their vision on a continual basis. At Trash you’d hear Erol Alkan play great obscure indie records at the time. I’ve become slightly disillusioned with where Erol Alkan’s taken his aesthetic since then, but I really respect where he came from and what he did. And similarly for Optimo, and Optimo continued to be a huge influence. We’re going to play there at the end of the month in Glasgow. And we played last year, and that was just a really exciting moment, to be asked to go out there and play. So I wasn’t, like, in the rave scene in the UK or Ireland, so the influences from a party perspective kind of finish there, to be honest.

How did you guys get into house music and start DJing?

EH: Well, for me it was one of my oldest friends at college; we were in London, right? There are lots and lots of record stores, lots of parties, just lots of music going on. We were living together, so we just started buying tons of records. We used to play these fairly small little hip-hop parties; we just kind of fueled our love of music doing that. And that was around the same time I was going up to Glasgow and going to Trash and all that — I was still kind of an indie guy. Then I moved to New York. Do you remember a party called Motherfucker?

No

EH: So there was lots of parties downtown in New York which were based around rock and roll, and Justine D was a big figure. I was operating in those circles, and I got — Motherfucker was actually would another party that would be some sort of inspiration. What attracted me to that was the fact that it was downtown New York. I was besotted with the history of downtown New York, and I wanted to follow it, whatever the current version of it was. It was a really interesting party. They had Hot Chip play there, they had ESG play there, they had The Cramps and the New York Dolls play there. I got to play Motherfucker three times, which was pretty amazing as the party was huge and a true New York melting point of different types of people. But you know, I started to get bored of hearing guitar music at these parties, and wanted to hear more beat-driven stuff, so I started to seek out house and techno parties. Justine D, who was running those parties, became the musical director at Studio B and brought me on board as a resident, and we were doing parties there that were quite wide ranging in music. That was around the time that Justin and I met for the first time and started working together.

JC: For me, I just grew up with a dad who was really into music. He was a musician, he continues to be a musician, he plays the guitar, he’s been playing guitar for, I don’t know, 45 years or something like that at this point. And he also had a big record collection. So I spent a lot of time in the car with him, growing up. He had a big tape collection as well, and so we’d just listen to music all the time. It was just a natural progression for me to grow a record collection (it was a CD collection at first). I also was playing music a lot. I was a guitar player and a singer and a songwriter through junior high school and high school and into college. And after college, I kind of stopped playing music as much and writing my own music as much. Around the same time I found myself saying something along the lines of “There’s no good new music,” and as I said it I knew that it wasn’t true. I decided that I would start to go to Other Music and a few other stores in the city and just educate myself, or let the record store clerks educate me because I knew that there was a ton of music out there that I didn’t know anything about. So I just started buying records, and I just bough my own turntables and played records in my bedroom for six months. It wasn’t long before I started DJing out.

How did you two start working together?

JC: Eamon just sent me an email, because Eamon’s very proactive, and he was like, “Hey, we should meet.” And we went and met for a donut at Peter Pan up in Greenpoint, and we just became friends through that — fast-forward a little while and we were doing Sunday Best together. And… well — actually, you tell the story about APT.

EH: So Justin was organizing a residency for Afrika Bambaataa. So he asked me and Lindsey Caldwell to be the other DJs. So we did this weekly party with Bambaataa where I would open, Bambaataa would arrive with is entourage, and I would quickly get out of the DJ booth before Bambaataa came in because APT had this tiny little DJ booth, and if Bambaataa came in, there’s no way you were getting out — he was a big man. The party didn’t last very long because Bambaataa had a touring schedule, and –

JC: Honestly, it just wasn’t that successful; it was on a Tuesday night, and nobody in New York can draw every Tuesday night.

EH: But it was fun, you know? It was pretty awesome to be playing with Bambaataa. Around the same time we started Sunday Best, which was kind of the original incarnation of what Mister Sunday was this summer.

JC: I realized in working with Eamon that there was somebody who took it as seriously as I did. Like, Eamon would respond to emails and respond to phone calls, and he treated the business of throwing parties seriously. And not to say that you’ve got to be all spreadsheet about it, but I feel like nightlife in general is something that a lot of people are drawn to because it’s so loose. But I think it’s really important when you’re running a party to be serious about presenting people with a good experience. That’s something that I saw that Eamon was committed to, so it was a very natural draw to each other once we actually started working together.

How did Mister Saturday Night start?

EH: Well, Santos Party House had opened downtown, and I think there was a genuine excitement about this club because it was a good club to begin with, and it had creative, interesting people behind it, and it portrayed itself as alternative and different. We ended up signing a deal with Santos to program every Saturday night, both floors. Justin and I would program it and run it and be residents, and then we’d also have James Friedman as a resident and Twilite Tone, who Justin had been DJing with as well. Justin came up with the name “Mister Saturday Night,” and that’s how we started.

JC: Which Eamon wasn’t so excited about in the beginning.

EH: No, I felt it was a little too jazz hands. But so we did it from January to May. However, our dreams of having this really great relationship with the people at Santos were dashed, to be honest. And at the point, you know, I’d worked at Studio B, I’d worked at Love, Justin had worked at APT, we’d worked at Santos, Water Taxi Beach. We’d all kind of had these experiences of having to work with people who didn’t share our vision. And frankly, to be honest, didn’t really have any vision for nightlife — who just seemed to be business people who were in a business that they didn’t understand. Which to me — it’s kind of like opening a restaurant and not having any vision for what you’re putting on the menu.

JC: Or not having any real passion for it at all. I would like to say, though, that there are so many people involved in Santos that I don’t want it to seem to anybody that we’re bashing all the people that are involved in Santos. There are some really, really great people that are still involved with that place as owners, as partners, and they still have a good vision for that place. But there are forces that are larger than the ambitions of a few creative people in a big organization that made that place untenable for us to do parties.

EH: So we had to leave. Oh no, to be fair, they kicked us out.

JC: Because we weren’t drawing more than 800 people a night.

EH: They needed substantial crowds to pay rent. After that we just wanted to take the entire operation experience into our own hands and start afresh, and that was really the beginnings of the party as we know it now.

JC: We really said, “Alright, enough with clubs, enough with these places that don’t have the same vision that we have. We need to go to other kinds of places.” And around that time, we found out that Todd P at Market Hotel was willing to host dance parties and appeared to appreciate what we did. So we started to do Mister Saturday Night there. And that was really the beginning of Mister Saturday Night as it exists now.

How has it changed since then?

EH: We’ve developed a community. You see the same faces coming through, you see those faces interacting with each other, as a result of being at the party, and we interact with them as well. We’ve seen it grow and evolve. We’ve seen groups of people come for, like, nine months at a time and move on. We’ve all got busy lives and we’re moving around, but seeing that evolve is really satisfying.

JC: I feel like we’ve gotten a little bit tighter in our execution of things. You know, we — in the beginning when we were at Market Hotel, we did –

EH: Ugh, everything. We were bringing subwoofers upstairs at like six o’ clock before the party, and killing our backs.

You guys bought all the beer and all that?

JC: Yeah, yeah. Everything.

EH: Everything. Now we can show up at, like, 9:30, and it’s all set because we’ve got a team of people.

JC: A great sound team, a great lighting team, a great bar team. It’s all set up. This is something else that’s really satisfying — it’s not like we’ve handed these things off, and we hope that it goes well. We’ve handed these things off in a way where everything fits in with our vision. That’s a huge, huge thing to be able to say. Our sound guys are just, like, so on it. And Jeff, who does our lighting — every time we show up, it’s simple, but it’s special, and it’s warm feeling. He does such a good job. And our bar staff tells us when something needs to be changed or when something needs to be ordered.

EH: And our security guy tells everybody that walks through the door, “Welcome to Mister Saturday Night.” You know? He gets it. We’ve worked with him the entire time. It takes time to build that, but it’s quite amazing that we’ve gotten to that point in two and a half years.

Do you guys think you would ever consider going back to a club?

JC: Yes.

EH: Yeah. I still have a very soft part of my heart for, like, the clubs, you know? Like, there are the places that are the kind of “cathedrals” in the world where people go to. It pains me that New York has lost those. It really does.

JC: It’s not that a good club can’t exist. We’re going to play at Plastic People at the end of this month, and that is a club that totally gets it right. They have great security people at the door. I was talking to somebody Plastic People the other day, and they said to me, “You know, the first time I was there, I paid too much money at the bar, and I walked away and I didn’t know it, and a couple of minutes later, one of the bartenders had walked through the crowd over to me and tapped me on the shoulder to hand me my change.” Which amounted to, like, two pounds or something like that. It wasn’t a big thing, but they care so much. The people who run the place care, and the sound system is good — not because they want to be show-off-y about it, but because they actually care about how good it sounds. If somebody opened a place like that in New York, we would be there in a second because there are a lot of things that are a real pain about doing what we do in the way that we do. So if we could move it into a regular club, no doubt about it, we would do it.

EH: I admire Berghain, I admire Panorama Bar, I admire Fabric. I admire those clubs that have a vision from the top down, and then everything else is just putting the components in place to make it happen. That’s not what I’ve ever experienced in New York. The people that own the clubs, the people that are signing the checks are people that don’t know anything about music.

JC: And there are exceptions to that. I mean Cielo was started by Nicolas Matar, who’s a DJ, and there’s still good stuff that happens there. The tragic thing about that place is that it’s in the meatpacking district.

EH: That kind of proves my point: the reason it’s been successful is it had that consistent vision the entire time. Not a guy that’s sitting there that doesn’t understand what’s happening in his club, beating people up because they’re not bringing people in.

Eamon, tell me a little bit about your productions.

EH: Well, Steve [Raney] and I started working together about — I’d say about two years ago. Up until that point, I’d done some edits, and I released a 12″ on Wurst, just when they were an edit label. We started sending stuff to James [Friedman] because he was an old friend, as James was kind of reinvigorating Throne of Blood. And it kind of went from there. The nice reaction we got was just really satisfying. The process of writing something yourself from scratch and putting it out there is actually quite frightening, because you live with it and you have no idea whether it’s good or bad. I mean you have an inkling, but even, like, playing those tracks was kind of a bit of a leap of faith. But to be able to dip into your bag and pull out a record that you’ve made, just as natural as your pulling out another record because you’ve built that confidence, was really satisfying this year.

Or to see Levon Vincent pull it.

EH: Yes. Yeah. That was pretty awesome it’s well. I really want to spend more on it — I’ve got an EP coming out in a month on Throne of Blood as well. Justin and I are starting a label this year. We’ve got our first 12″ signed, possibly our second.

JC: Not “signed,” but we just got an email last night from this guy, who sent us a really, really nice track.

EH: So we’re working on a remix for the first 12″ together, a Mister Saturday Night remix. And I have about half a dozen tracks that I just need to get mixed and get out there. So yeah, it’s a completely different thing trying to create music. We’re really keen to get the label up and running this year as well and see where that goes. We want to get more into production and putting music out and contributing something to the musical landscape above and beyond events.

JC: I think it’s a natural progression from us throwing parties, to release music. Eamon is fully immersed in producing music. I am not a producer, but I write music, and it’s a really important thing to me. I think both of us kind of want a potential vehicle for ourselves and a potential vehicle for the people that we have relationships with, whether that’s the people who are coming to the party, who are sending us music because they like the party and what it’s about, or if it’s people who are coming to DJ the party. We haven’t decided exactly what it’s going to look like — all we know at this point is that we’ve got two people who are sending us music that we are really excited about, who haven’t sent music to anybody else that we know of, and we’ll see where it goes after that.

Justin, you alluded to your own productions. How is that going?

JC: Yeah, so I co-wrote and sang on a Great Weekend track that was released on Wurst. But other than that, I grew up writing music, like I said before, and it’s funny: as I started to DJ, I stopped writing and stopped playing my guitar and singing as much. I always kind of assumed that at some point there would be this bolt of lightning that would strike, and it would inspire me to write that album’s worth of material that I always wanted to write. About a year and a half ago that I realized that that wasn’t going to happen, that I just needed to sit down and work, and create a schedule for myself that says, “You will write music five times a week for an hour a day.” That’s what I’m doing right now. I just sat down two days ago and wrote down my goals for 2012, and one of those goals is to finish writing and record a full album’s worth of material that may be released this year, but will definitely be released by next year. Cross your fingers that I can realize that, but it’s a real ambition of mine.

Where do you guys diverge as DJs?

JC: Let’s do it like this: I will tell you what I think Eamon’s style is, and I’ll let Eamon tell you what he thinks my style is. I think Eamon is very informed by where he grew up and where his formative years learning about music were spent. There is a much more austere quality to the dance music that took hold in Europe. You know, when I think of the origins of dance music in Europe, I think of bands like New Order, I think of clubs like Ministry of Sound. I think of, like, a dance music that’s less rooted in the black American experience. Even if it was inspired by that in one way or another, it’s certainly less influenced by that. When I hear Eamon play, it’s much more beat-driven music than the music that I feel like I play. I don’t know, what do you think? Feel free to disagree with me too.

EH: Ha! I think I probably would disagree. I think there’s a lot of overlap because we’ve been doing parties together for so long. I mean you’ll often find a lot of the same records in both our bags. I think where you kind of see differences is at the fringes of the party. Like, at the start of the night, Justin will often play a lot slower and play hip-hop. I love hip-hop, but I just never really choose to play it. I’d like to play, like, Philip Glass or Steve Reich — I guess that’s that austere sort of element that Justin mentioned. I definitely like things a little darker sometimes. So maybe that’s part of it. But Justin will play his dark, moody techno set often at the end of the night, you know? I think we were further apart when we started the party, and we’ve come closer together as a result.

JC: Yeah, I don’t think Eamon would have ever played, like, vocal versions of some of the house tracks that he has, but he definitely plays the vocal versions now, which is great.

EH: Yeah, possibly. I’d have played the dub or just played techno. But that’s the benefit of having a partner, and that fact that you can both grow musically by being exposed to each other’s tastes is great.

JC: How you would describe the way I play?

EH: Well, I think that you’ll sometimes play a particularly dark, moody set. Like, he was playing Tin Man records this year. I don’t even know if I would go that dark. But then he’ll play a particular type of disco that I wouldn’t necessarily reach for. It’s not like I don’t have that part of my spectrum, but there’s a happiness that sometimes comes through Justin’s set and I don’t go to that emotional part of the spectrum. I think that’s how I would best describe the difference in our styles – we both reach for certain moods which are unique to ourselves. Maybe I’m a slightly darker personality. Maybe it’s the Irish or something, I don’t know.

How do you guys keep playing together exciting?

EH: Well, Justin keeps buying all my records!!

JC: Yeah, I make Eamon have to work extra hard because I buy all of his records. It was funny — earlier this year I sent him an email, and I was like, “Dude, what was that record that you played that was black and white?” He sent me back an email saying, “I think we need to go on our own musical journeys.”

EH: I think that what’s great about a partnership where you respect each other’s musical taste is that you can learn from each other and you can challenge each other. I’ve learned a lot over the last three years because of the types of music that Justin has exposed me to, as well as the bookings. Booking is another kind of curatorial thing where I’ll bring an idea and Justin’s like, “Well, I’ve never heard of him, but let me have a look,” and vice versa. Justin was totally on the Floating Points tip way before me, and I was pretty gung-ho about bringing Rolando in. You’re on your own journeys, and you rub off on each other, so you absorb more as a partnership.

JC: Eamon is really good about how to make tracks work together; how to build a particular energy in the room. I still feel like I’m learning how to do that. That’s one way where I feel he’s influenced me in a really positive way — to think about how to build energy and not just play a good song and then another good song and then another good song. I mean I’ve always known that that was an important thing as a DJ, but hearing Eamon do that has been a real learning experience for me.

Is the fact that you guys play almost all vinyl at the party important?

JC: You know, was I thinking about this a couple of days ago. I try to be responsible about the choices that I make in general. I’m mostly a vegetarian, I try to buy things that are made in the States, for the most part, but vinyl is one way where I feel like my choices could totally be irresponsible. Because there’s a much less polluting way to do it. Vinyl is pretty toxic, and it’s creating these big plastic discs that are going to be around well beyond myself. So I was thinking the other day, “Is this the most responsible thing?” Vinyl is important for me because I have these big, physical things that I can turn around and look through. They’re like visual cues that remind me of a feeling or of what that song sounds like. That makes it easy for me to pick what my next record is going to be in a very basic way.

EH: The whole thing’s such a tactile process, and I’ve been buying records for so long that it’s just — I’ve tried Serato, I’ve tried more CDs, and it just doesn’t feel right. We don’t do it as any big statement, as part of the party. We don’t try to make a big deal out of the fact that we play vinyl; that’s just the way we started doing it. It’s a pain in the ass. Every single venue we’ve been at we’ve had to hang the DJ booth from the ceiling, and that’s a pain. But I think we’re better DJs as a result of it.

JC: Yeah, it’s just what we started with and what we continue to do. There’s definitely this nerdy kind of club that you get to be in when you play vinyl. You get to go to record stores, you get to talk to the other people who collect vinyl, and talk about how much better vinyl sounds than everything else. There’s something that’s really, really fun about that. And you know, it’s not like we are calling our party “Mister Saturday Night Plays Vinyl,” but we mention it. It’s part of what we do.

EH: I try not to be so prejudiced about it because I also try to look forward. We want to do things differently, and there is an element of vinyl culture that’s just a little bit nostalgic. I don’t want to be that. We don’t have any rule about guests not having laptops or whatever, but I think we’ve only had, like, three laptops in the booth the entire time. The guests we book tend to roll up with records. There’s a certain sensibility there.

How do you guys approach the booking?

JC: In the same way that we approach buying records. It’s purely based on who we’re excited about at a moment in time, whose music we’re playing a lot at the party. That’s really it.

EH: For the Sundays, where we book everybody in advance and we look at it as a 15-week thing, we want the entire summer to have a flow and momentum of its own.

JC: It’s kind of like programming a DJ set, in a way.

Are there any defining records of your party? Records that either always seem to find themselves getting played, or records that maybe only got played once, but produced a particularly special moment?

EH: Well, there’s a record that will be on the podcast because it was a big record for us this year. It’s “Lap The Music” by Alfabet, which is by Tom Trago [and Awanto 3]. I swear to god, every time our crowd just keels over for it. They absolutely love it.

JC: Yeah. That’s one that Eamon bought, and I was like, “What is that?” And next party I was like, “Check this record out!”

EH: Next party I’m at the bar, and there it goes, and Justin’s hands in air — “Look at my new record.” Another one is the third one of the Oni Ayhun, which is a big record for me. We played that the first Mister Sunday this year, right at the very end, and it just went bananas.

JC: Well, it kind of goes in cycles. At any given moment there could be one record that means a lot. But I’d say in 2011, for me, this Cece Peniston, with a Steve “Silk” Hurley remix on the back that I play all the time. And there’s one that I play a lot by San Soda called “Doorsnee.” It’s a little bit on that UK bass music tip. It’s got these big, crazy sub-bass melodies in it.

EH: You also played — I don’t know who did it, but it was on Philpot.

JC: Oh, that Arttu record? He released three records this year, and all of them were outstanding. Yeah, and I would play that first one every single set. Every, every single set. It’s very, like, very, very raw. Very Detroit-sounding. Very Detroit- [or] Chicago-sounding, like, you know, kind of big analog drums, very, like, spacious in its production. I don’t know.

EH: I mean there’s other ones that come to mind, like there’s a Martin Buttrich Carl Craig remix, anything by Roman Flügel, like “How To Spread Lies.” Cobblestone Jazz’s “Dump Truck,” Levon Vincent’s “Solemn Days,” the Frankie Knuckles remix of Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody,” quite a few Junior Boy’s Own records. And then there’s always a lot of Omar-S knocking around as well.

JC: Not to be forgotten: Floating Points. Every single time he comes out with a record, it gets put on regular rotation at the party. I’ve been playing “Myrtle Avenue” like crazy. When we were in London last year playing with him, after the party was over we went back to Sam [Shepherd]‘s house. We were just listening to music, and he was like, “Hey, check this out; it’s called ‘Myrtle Avenue.’ You know, like Market Hotel,” where he came and played the first gig with us. It’s such a good record.

What’s coming up in 2012?

EH: More parties — maintain the schedule. Two Mister Saturday Night’s a month. One with a guest, one without, roughly. Hopefully Mister Sunday again. There’s always — there’s probably a lot more heartache that goes in to producing Mister Sunday than most people would know, in terms of permitting and politics.

EH: That’s New York, you know? So that, and we’ll be in Chicago, London, Glasgow, Stuttgart, and Berlin. I think we’ll be out and about more this year. Also the label — just contributing to the musical landscape beyond doing events is definitely the next goal, and I think we do that through our own musical endeavors and the label.

What do you think about New York as a party-throwing city? It’s got such a history, and yet nowadays so many people have this sort of love/hate relationship with it.

JC: I love New York. I think that New York is a place where, when a party goes off, it goes off better than anywhere else that I’ve ever been. You know, people like to talk about Berlin as this dance music Mecca, but I was there for three months, and I feel like I got a pretty good lay of the land. I heard a lot of really great producers and DJs at very important venues, and I never enjoyed them as much as I have when I’ve heard them in New York. In Berlin things never close — parties can just kind of go on indefinitely. There is no beginning and no end. Michael Mayer came and played with us last year at the beginning of the Sunday series, and he said something that I think is so important: “I really love to play your party because there’s an end to it, and that’s really, really nice.” On Sundays, we’ve got a hard cut at nine o’ clock. That’s such an important part of that party. A lot of people stay, and the energy is so amazing because people know that in one hour this party is going to be done. People don’t stay even till the end on our Saturday night parties, at least not a huge group of people. We’ve got a crew — a good, like, 50 to 75 people, and it’s got it’s own specialness about it. But on Sundays it’s really amazing because people who might leave a party before it was done won’t leave because they know there’s only an hour left. You get a full-on dance floor at nine o’ clock at night, and you get to play those end-of-the-night songs to a super receptive and excited crowd.

Even though we go until six o’ clock in the morning on Saturdays, it’s different than in Berlin where you could just go on forever and ever and ever. Even if it’s just 50 to 75 people there, it still feels like, “Oh, it’s ending so there’s something special about this. We better squeeze every bit that we can out of this moment because it’s going to be done soon.” It’s kind of like when people talk about how they hate the weather in New York if they live in Florida, but the people who live in New York and have been here for a long time, will always say, “Well, I really like the seasons. I really like the fact that you get to see the seasons.” And I feel like that’s kind of what makes parties good in New York: you know that there’s something that’s finite about it. You know that it’s not always this good. You know it’s not always going to be this warm, or it’s not always going to be this cold. You know it’s not always going to be like this so you try to draw as much as you can from that particular moment because it’s going to change at some point. There are a ton of bad clubs here, and you’ve been to those bad clubs before so when you go to a good party, and it’s really, really awesome, it becomes even more awesome because in New York it doesn’t happen all the time.

EH: I mean, I’ve got a European passport; I don’t have to be here. I choose to be here because it’s rewarding. What we’ve created is really rewarding, and I really believe in it, and that’s because of what New York gives back to us. It really bums me out when I hear people talk disparagingly about the scene in New York. I actually read an interview with Juan MacLean, which angered me because he was just talking really adamantly about how bad the parties were in New York. And it was coming from a limited perspective. I don’t know what his experience is, but I know he hasn’t been to some of the parties that are great in New York. And I love Kieran Hebden to bits, and we’re friends through having booked him and stuff, but there’s this little Twitter thing that was going on this summer, and I actually kind of challenged him back. “Alright, so you had one bad gig at Public Assembly because you were booked by somebody who doesn’t give a shit about sound systems. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing good in New York.” To be fair to him, he said nice things about us, but there’s that limited perspective thing again.

JC: Well, but I think Kieran had a point. I thought what he was saying was, “Until Brooklyn gets a proper venue that can support the people who are doing the things that are vital in the community, it’s going to be an uphill battle.”

EH: I think that the people of New York who come out to the parties, really, really make the parties. I had a little bit of a residency at a place called Tape in Berlin, and I had some great gigs there, but none of them compared to the best gigs I’ve had in New York. And having lived in Europe and gone to Fabric a lot as well, there’s a real sort of dilution of energy that comes from being popular. It’s a little bit like New Year’s Eve.

JC: Yeah, that’s it, man.

EH: We benefit a little from being a bit removed from that and not having that club. It just makes for good vibes. The one thing I actually think about New York is that it’s a little fragmented sometimes. I sometimes wish there was a greater sense of community between some of the parties, but I don’t know if that’s just being too hippie of me, or whatever.

JC: You’re not going to get me complaining about people coming together and loving one another.

[HUSH]

It’s hard to say why specific sounds and genres ebb and flow in and out of the collective dance music conscience, but that motion itself is readily mirrored in our own listening habits. Some of us yin (dark and driving techno) while others yang (butt house): enjoying everything, but preferring certain sounds over others at any given moment. 2011 was, personally, a real house year, from vocal to acid and all that lies in between, and yet charts, DJs, and fellow aficionados suggest there was plenty of good techno around as well. So while I checked out and bought a solid amount of techno, as a whole the darker stuff just wasn’t cutting it for me. Leave it to wunderkind (minus the “kind”) DVS1 and the inaugural release for his new label, Hush, to pull me out of my downward spiral of chasing 707 claps and Robert Owens vocals.

Truly, from the first bar of “Evolve” I fell back in love (head over heels, really) with techno. Zak Khutoretsky kicks off his in-house label with no frills, dropping us in medias res into the exceptional A-side wherein a hypnotic, Dan Bell-esque synth line is endlessly tweaked. Simple bass stabs, unabating percussion, and the slightest hint of strings all aid in inducing a sort of delirium that only the best can pull of with so few elements. “Submerge” on the flip is, as its title might imply, aquatic and waterlogged. It’s content to stand still and observe, where “Evolve” buzzes around in its own private k-hole. Rather than attempting to break any molds, Hush’s first release sees DVS1 take that most elemental model of minimalist, Midwest techno and execute as best he can. Lucky for us, his best is something quite extraordinary.

The reason why everyone from artists and labels to venues and magazines offer podcasts is simple: it’s the closest and most portable representation of the way most fans interact with dance music. Artists use them as calling cards for what they can bring to your fair city. Labels and clubs showcase the talent they nurture or book. And sites like us? We highlight admired artists with a sample of their skills. There’s undoubtedly an absolute abundance of them, with new ones springing up seemingly every month. But unlike records — that ultimate embodiment of dance music — or mix CDs, they’re free and only clutter up hard drives rather than bedrooms. This ease increases the likelihood of audiences taking chances on an unknown artist (worst case scenario it’s a waste of bandwidth) and allows their enthusiasm to be as infectious as their social networks’ reach. So you can see why even the most venerable artists have embraced the format: it’s practically the overarching genre’s common currency, and we’ve all become rather rich with the stuff. But with our pockets so fully of shiny tokens it can be difficult to determine which to examine first. So while it stands no chance of being comprehensive, this list and our 2Q Report offer a worthwhile overview of best mixes we heard during 2011.

Photo by Claudio Farkasch

Appleblim – FACT mix 290

I think at this point I’m prepared to say Appleblim is one of the best DJs out there. Every time I’ve seen him his sets have been magically paced, always leading up to something, but taking its time getting there. His mix for FACT is something truly special, starting with Krautrock and guitar music and slowly moving up through Factory favorites and Detroit classics towards the kind of grooving, bass-led techno that he’s made his name on. And the best part about it is, it all works so well together.

Prosumer – Beats in Space #599

I love looking at the tracklists for a Prosumer mixes; I tend to feel particularly accomplished if I recognize as many as 5% of the artists included. He’s one of the most loved and respected house DJs around and there’s a reason: dude just digs deeper than anyone out there. Tim Sweeney’s sentiment at the end of this recording about wanting to go buy each and every record is neither rare nor exacerbated, and is a very good reason to check out this mix as soon as possible. A very fine companion piece to Prosumer’s excellent mix CD Panorama Bar 03, which is surely one of the year’s best commercial compilations.

Efdemin – Roof.fm Nr. 50

For all his love of early American dance music, I’ve always gotten a distinctly German vibe from Efdemin’s sets. While his selections may be generally lumped in with deep house, there’s always something about his mixes that point to the surrealism of Dada, as well as the reduced German sensibilities that make up so much of techno. In this mix for roof.fm we certainly get plenty of techno, as the likes of Kassem Mosse, Sandwell District and others make appearances. We also get some Prince, some field recordings, and we end up in a pretty strange place with a track I assume is in no one’s bag but his. The thing with Efdemin is it never sounds forced, never eccentric for the sake of being eccentric. And that’s one of the many reasons why I keep returning to this mix.

Peter van Hoesen – mnml ssgs special

In 2011 there was a lot of synth music, enough that we witnessed essentially a brand new scene spring up before our eyes (some dubbed it post-techno). I myself am not sure how accurate or helpful the tag is, as while influenced by techno its sound comes straight out of 1970s Germany, both in terms of the gear used to make it and the kosmische musik that influences it. This period tends to get us techno nerds a bit hot under the collar, but with so much good music coming out this year I personally found this development tough to latch on to. Leave it to one of my favorite DJs then to create a primer that introduces these new voices and pairs them with old favorites (like Popul Vuh’s stunning theme from Aguirre: Der Zorn Gottes, which never seems to get old). Peter van Hoesen’s expert selection and sequencing make this an emotional, spacey trip through the deepest Kosmos.

Raime – FACT mix 292

Believe in the Hardcore Continuum or not, but it seems that with every UK artist it always comes back to jungle. Raime, purveyors of the some of the darkest techno around, are clearly fans of the stuff, as their music sounds at times like some Metalheadz records got a bit too tripped out and forgot the amen. Their mix for FACT focuses on that golden era of the early-mid 90s, where jungle was at its most forward-thinking and most intense. This stuff is rarely played any more, and it’s a treat to hear a mix of records from that era with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight. With artists like Shed practically begging at this point that hardcore come back, a renewed interest in jungle seems almost inevitable.

Mike Huckaby – RA.278

Mike Huckaby is, in some ways, the future of dance music. At Detroit’s Youthville he mentors kids in the ways of music production, working with the latest Native Instruments and Ableton software. Funny, then, that as a DJ he spins the best of classic Detroit house and techno, always on vinyl and sometimes even lugging around a reel-to-reel. Pulling off his best Mojo impression to change the focus of “J.A.N.” from KDJ to himself, Huck’s Resident Advisor mix proceeds to bring us through some of our favorite Chicago trax (“Face It,” “Spank-Spank”) and techno classics. Not terribly novel sonic terrain for 2011, but then Huckaby’s way with records puts him so ahead of the pack that his mixes pretty much always achieve an “instant classic” status (his mix for us very rarely leaves my side). This one is no exception.

Serge – Unearthed cassette mix from ’93-94

One of the best aspects of this era of downloadable mixes is that they’re not constrained to the latest thing. Resources like the Deep House Page allow you experience house music as Chicagoans once did in the late 80s, as long as you don’t mind the cassette tape fidelity. One of my recent favorites is a mix by Clone founder Serge which aired somewhere between 1993-4 on Edwin Brienen’s late night show on VPRO radio and was recently digitized from tape. Not only is it an expertly mixed, ecstatic blend of early 90s house, but with a median tempo of about 132BPM, it’s a potent reminder of how fast house music once was. Those of us who have grown used to the leisurely thump of 120 might be surprised just how easy it is to appreciate speedier house. What’s more, it seems like a window into the future as well, as tempos are sure to rise during the next wave of nostalgic productions.

Archie Pelago – TABLE TENNIS 043

As with any dance music scene, bass music offers loads of artists who don’t try very hard to distinguish themselves, while at the other end of the spectrum are those idiosyncratic artists whose sound is unmistakable. On paper, the trio of Archie Pelago might sound like an odd formula: one saxophonist, one cellist, and a laptop-ist. But it works so well it’s rather surprising that no one has done it before, and their use of instruments that are rather foreign to Boiler Room streams makes the music of Archie Pelago immediately stand out. This live set for Jordan Rothlein’s Table Tennis program is a wonderful introduction to a group who are taking the whole “band-techno” thing to a very different place, with compelling results. Best of all, if you’re keen on seeing how the sausage is made, you can watch them perform this set here.

G.R.R.L. – mlat46

This one is a mix from Terre Thaemlitz for the very fine Made Like A Tree series comprised completely of her own productions and under the relatively underused G.R.R.L. alias. If anyone can pull off a cross-alias mix it’s Terre, as his work is not only consistently strong but always carrying both a strong political message and subtle emotional aesthetic. Those who have devoured her house albums as DJ Sprinkles and K.-S.H.E. will find a whole lot to love here, framed by his more experimental sound collages for labels like Mille Plateaux. Some of the real gems, however, are found in the form of hard-to-find lost classics from G.R.R.L. and Chugga: works that you’ve probably stumbled upon while browsing Thaemlitz’s (newly subdued) website, but have never pulled the trigger on. This mix will probably not offer too much new to dyed-in-the-wool fans of Terre, but for a window into some of her less known projects, this set’s a keeper.

Conforce – LWE Podcast 87

Each time I compile another one of these lists the task of choosing my favorite of our mixes gets tougher and tougher, as every week I’m thrilled to see what our favorite DJs at the moment (as well as our very turntable-saavy staff) mix up for us. The latter two fiscal quarters of this year saw some personal favorites from the series, but I have to give it to my man Conforce for his podcast from way back in the summer. I must say that at the time I had been taking a bit of a break from techno, but Boris Bunnik’s mix reminded me just why I love this stuff so much. Building up expertly from nothing but ominous bass-rubs, we’re treated to a masterfully paced session of the darker stuff, one which makes even Murphy Jax’s sing-along acid house sound like a lost Dettmann B-side. Shouts also go out to October and John Osborn, Ital, Aybee, Chicago Skyway, and so many more.

The problem that list enthusiasts face each year is the fluidity of the categories. An “album” can take many physical forms and be almost any length the format allows. The “single” is equally problematic in its definition, as a vinyl single is usually two tracks at least. But when you’re pulling together tracks and albums lists, you’re ignoring a vast seam of records that falls in-between even those nebulous categories. This list sets out to highlight five such records (not double-packs) which are the work of a single artist and contain three or more tracks. They must also be released on vinyl and avoid containing remixes. The 12″ as a statement, then: an artist executing his or her vision over two sides of vinyl and embracing the record as a format. While dance music generally lends itself to longer compositions than other genres, full lengths can sometimes feel overly long-winded (a problem that is in no way specific to dance music). Records from Laurel Halo, Vakula, Dreesvn and Move D all made whittling the list down to five very difficult. But the following records provide some of the best 15-to-30 minutes of music released in the past 12 months, and are equally enjoyable in the living room or club.

05. Kassem Mosse, Workshop 12
[Workshop] (buy)

When Workshop 12 appeared at Hard Wax earlier this year I was beyond excited: the first two Workshops adorned with bearded stamps are surely two of the finest techno releases of the past 10 years, and I was eager to hear the ways in which the third would blow me away. I gave it a strong review, but felt it was perhaps a bit Kassem-Mosse-by-the-numbers. At the present time, however, Mosse-by-the-numbers beats out many producers’ most inspired turns. In fact it’s proven to include some of Gunnar Wendel’s strongest club tracks (one of my clubbing highlights of the year was surely Fred P dropping the magical, twisted A-side). While the record absolutely refused to leave my bag I realized that there’s something admirable about a producer completely owning his sound and not feeling terribly pressured to move on. Three for three, then.

04. Ital, Ital’s Theme
[100% Silk] (buy)

Drowning in 100% Silk is not something you expect to say about a year, but 2011 has been a great year to do just that. While most of them have been impressive, none were able to live up to Ital’s masterful artist-and-label-debut. “Queens” bides its time in a humid, tribal funk, while “One Hit” is an extended, melodic jam. And then there’s “Ital’s Theme,” whose simple acidic melody and bombastic percussion, coupled with subtle flourishes from Daniel Martin-McCormick’s noise background, make for one of 2011′s most jacking, addictive tracks. There was a glut of retro house this year, but “Ital’s Theme” felt retro without really referencing any specific scene or time, feeling like a hazy, hedonistic trip through 30 years of New York dance culture. Its release was a blink-and-you-miss it affair, so while it’s admittedly a bit difficult to track down a copy, this is one you don’t want to miss.

03. Conforce, Dystopian Elements
[Delsin] (buy)

I didn’t do one of these lists last year, but if I had, Conforce’s Grace EP on Delsin would have certainly been number one. The man like Boris Bunnik has released loads of strong music in the past year (including some serious contenders for this list), and his very best work arrived on his follow up EP for Delsin: Dystopian Elements. Patient, Detroit-esque techno with electro flourishes is one way to describe the record, but there’s much more to it. Incredibly spacious and grounded firmly in the lowest end of the audible spectrum, it’s a singular journey that builds in both tempo and energy throughout its runtime. While it’s not exactly reinventing the wheel, it does ask DJs and producers to be a little more adventurous with their tempos and to allow for a little more restraint. A crucial release from one of techno’s most vital young voices.

02. Levon Vincent, Impression of a Rainstorm
[Novel Sound] (buy)

Dance music may be particularly areligious, but if it weren’t, I think we would be thanking our Drexcyen overlords rather loudly for Levon Vincent’s 2011 output. Finding a middle ground between 2009′s barrage of Novel Sounds and his silent 2010, Vincent’s return with Novel Sound 05 this summer felt like a triumphant comeback for someone who really didn’t need one. But whereas “Man or Mistress” barged in with thousands of ravers in tow, it’s Novel Sound’s more reserved sixth transmission that was perhaps the more impressive one. The title track is a flurry of percussion and unintelligible vocoded voices topped off with soaring melodies, while the flipside’s gritty stomp (“Revs/Cost”) and the surprising bass line climax of “Pivotal Moments In Life” represent some of Vincent’s finest work to date. One of the true dance music auteurs of recent years, Levon has been loath to repeat himself, pushing further out into a sound that’s truly his own. What 2012 will bring is anyone’s guess.

01. Sepalcure, Fleur
[Hotflush Recordings] (buy)

It came out at the very beginning of the year, yet no EP in 2011 was able to top it: Sepalcure’s Fleur saw the duo of Travis Stewart and Praveen Sharma take the promise of their very fine Love Pressure debut and refine their sound by leaps and bounds. The elements: woozy, sun-drenched melodies, bass rubs that gently embrace rather than rattle, and re-contextualized unmistakable house vocals. What makes Fleur my record of the year, however, is just how incredibly varied it is over its four tracks. From the title cut’s plucked throb through the ecstatic climax of “Your Love,” and from the heads-down building of the Inner-City-sampling “No Think” to the warm, billowing sounds of closer “Inside,” Fleur is at home in four completely different settings that are strikingly cohesive. Sepalcure’s recent LP may have gotten all of the hype, but Fleur is a document of two artists at the height of their powers: an immaculate, beautiful love letter to dance music’s diverse history.