Dance music is nothing if not purpose-driven. And when one of your primary concerns is filling up a floor and making those on it go apeshit, it’s tough to resist what’s tried and true. But how does a producer not reinvent the wheel without engaging in outright hackery? In the weeks since I received Oskar Offermann’s latest White 12″, “Apple Crumble Beneath My Feet,” I’ve been scratching my head over whether the producer and labelhead is painting by numbers or insidiously distinguishing himself from the hordes of producers making records nearly identical to this one. WHITE008 brings you three tracks of bog-standard, disco-flecked Rhodes riffs — your laptop wearing a Moodymann wig, basically. But I can’t help but feel like Offermann has a compositional sense that pushes him beyond his music’s ever-obvious sound palate. It’s quite possible you already own this record in about twenty or thirty near-identical forms. Is it worth buying again?
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Author Archive: Jordan Rothlein
Reggie Dokes, Untill Tomorrow
I can’t think of a producer with a stranger idea of what constitutes house music than Atlanta’s Reggie Dokes. Like fellow Detroit expats Octave One, he gives listeners the sense that every off-kilter drum hit or plaintive piano chord has been placed with great care. Yet the melodic logic he’s employed since he leaped into production in 2001 has rarely made anything close to perfect sense. To be blunt, Dokes is positively all over the place, brewing up for his own Psychostasia imprint and labels like Philpot and Clone Loft Supreme a psychedelic suspension of weird chord changes and jarring phrase shifts. His Spectacle of Deepness EP on We Play House, a serious highlight of my 2009, even played like the hallucination of a madman. But what a gorgeously schizophrenic mess it was. His final transmission of 2009, “Untill Tomorrow” [sic] for Clone’s absurdly limited Royal Oak series (who knew you could press just fifty records?), finds him doubling back on the haziness of that release to produce a record on the whole more direct, more floor-oriented, and more obviously funky than most of his output to date. Unsurprisingly, however, those of you longing for those same old Rhodes vamps and Sascha Dive vocals might still want to look elsewhere.
DJ Qu, Party People Clap
With DJ Jus-Ed on permanent impresario/wood-cutting duties and Levon Vincent releasing a near-constant stream of contemporary classics, New York house’s flagship positions look pretty well locked-down as 2010 gets cracking. It’s a bit more of a tossup for the underdog slot. Fred P., whose Black Jazz Consortium long-player and singles for his own Soul People Music imprint were among 2009’s most coveted dance records, makes for something of an easy bet, though I can’t deny his talent at cranking out tense, minimalist house trips. And Anthony Parasole, who’s already proven himself a formidable selector, will almost certainly raise his asking price when his first solo production credit drops later this year. But I’m throwing my lot behind DJ Qu, the New Jersey man and former dancer born Ramon Lisandro Quezada. His latest, “Party People Clap” for Vincent’s and Parasole’s Deconstruct Music, has a whole lot to do with it.
LWE Podcast 39: Basic Soul Unit
As Basic Soul Unit, Toronto’s Stuart Li has earned a reputation as something of a producer’s producer. Combining the rough-hewn trackiness of underground techno with hazy atmospherics of deep house (not to mention a healthy pinch of low-end and DFA-style synth wackiness), his releases for labels like New Kanada and Mathematics have shown they can play chameleon in practically any discerning record bag. But 2009, which saw his “Dank” single released by Philpot and his track “Things Pass” included in Ostgut Ton’s Panorama Bar 02 EP, scraped away at Li’s underground status, raising the bar on his studio prowess while placing Basic Soul Unit on a whole host of new radars. Whether you call it a 2009 victory lap or harbinger of a stellar 2010 to come, LWE’s 39th podcast, an exclusive mix of heavy, organic, and thoroughly trippy house grooves, gives us a rare and tasty showcase of Li’s DJ chops.
The Year In: “Records”
Forget the rise of mnml, the revival of deep house, the Berghain, civil rights vocal samples, the very existence of Richie Hawtin — was there any more rift-causing development over the last couple of years than the ascendence of digital technology in dance music production, dissemination, and DJing? While the vast majority of club revelers probably couldn’t have cared less what was happening behind the DJ booth, DJs and the journo-bloggers who obsess over them spent the years after Serato Scratch Live (the hardware/software package that most successfully merged a ones-and-zeros music collection with the technique and physicality of spinning real vinyl) debuted in 2004 wringing their hands over what this all means for dance music. We wouldn’t have the word “techno” without “technology,” but is soul not an equally weighty part of the equation? And isn’t vinyl culture a pretty big part of techno’s soul? To paraphrase what practically everyone inclined to grapple with such a thing grappled with: When we put the quality of the tunes aside, can a 300 gigabyte drive stuffed with ID3-tagged files not too fundamentally different from Word documents begin to approximate, to use Dapayk & Padberg’s phrase from their 2007 album of the same name, the indominable “black beauty”?
Basic Soul Unit, Basic Necessity EP
“Tool” is almost exclusively used dismissively in dance music criticism, but must every track hold up unlayered, unmixed, or otherwise isolated? Some brilliant club tunes deserve your headphoned attention, but I think we critics sometimes lose sight of where classic moments in dance music occur — on the floor, with a deft selector manning the decks. Toronto’s Stuart Li, known in grimy house music circles as Basic Soul Unit, has become a DJ’s favorite for the very reason many of us might usually click the skip button: save his “Panorama Bar 02 | Part I” A-side, “Things Pass” from this fall, which found Li in veritable anthem mode, they’re unabashedly tracky. While Basic Soul Unit’s recent “Basic Necessity EP” for New Kanada might not contain a DJ’s main event, its contents provide the sort of sinews that hold great sets together, bridging the gap between the energy of one showcase track and the next.
Jenifa Mayanja, Close Encounters
Jenifa Mayanja, wife of Underground Quality impresario DJ Jus Ed and veteran DJ in her own right, has released house singles and “mix albums” over the last couple of years almost exclusively on her own Bu-Mako label. While buoyant and imbued with energy, much of her self-released output has owed far too big a debt to New Age for me to really get behind; the rawness that has made so much recent New York house such an invigorating listen has been lost on her 12″s behind an impenetrable wall of incense smoke. So what a pleasant surprise “Close Encounters” — Bu-Mako’s twelfth release — is, both for anyone who would rather sweat while dancing than taking a Bikram yoga class and for New York house as a whole.
Ghostleigh, Continuum
One of the top reasons for my continued patronage of record stores is getting to gab with the people behind the counter. Blogs and forums certainly offer a wealth of information about choice new releases, but it’s pretty hard to beat a recommendation from someone whose job involves listening to practically every piece of wax that passes through the door. I can’t think of a more consistently awesome way for getting new sounds on my radar. So on a recent trip to Dope Jams in Brooklyn, when a clerk preferential to classic house and techno slipped the new (and unfamiliar to me) Ghostleigh 12″ into my stack and uttered something to the effect of, “I’m not usually into dubstep, but holy shit, dude!” I certainly took notice.
D. Quin, At The End of the World
All the hippest wax this year has reached techno heads with as little adornment and explanation as feasibly possible. “At The End of the World,” a single-sided oddity from Brooklyn’s Slow To Speak label and unknown producer Dan Quin, offers white label followers something unexpected: a wealth of information. Tucked neatly into the paper sleeve behind the hand-stamped vinyl, a note entitled “Dan Quin Background Analysis” on Old Antarctic Explorers Association letterhead details the spiritual and scientific journey of the producer in question. It could all be a gas, but here goes: while covering the Antarctic seal-mating beat for “a prominent U.S. nature magazine,” this “anti-social Steve Irwin” abandoned human society to become one with his desolate surroundings and ultimately find “his igloo of inspiration.”