For our fourth year-end report, LWE correspondent Will Lynch calls your attention to the top five free downloads from the second half of 2009

Here at the end of 2009, we find ourselves on the brink of a terrifying new decade. With Obama-shaped ecstasy pills, slippers made out of bread, and people saying “twitter” more than any other word in the English language, the road ahead grows increasingly strange and menacing. Then you’ve got assholes like Chris Anderson at Wired ranting about the power of “Free” and how it’s ultimately a good thing that newspapers only last a few more months, because the information just wants to be Free and there’s nothing we can do about that. Anderson’s ramblings may be reckless and ill-informed, but no one can deny he’s onto something — to point to an easy example, we are, after all, still waist-deep in an endless torrent of free house and techno mixes that shows no sign of abating. Due to an unfortunate dearth of free-time (and a work computer that has no soundcard), I unintentionally shied away from the regulars this quarter (The Bunker, mnml ssgs, ROOF.FM, Bodytonic) and surely missed some great mixes because of it. But thanks to social networking media and some particularly juicy Soundcloud accounts, I managed to find a handful of mixes that still haven’t worn thin after dozens of listens. So, while it would be unwise to call these the all-out best mixes of the quarter, here are five mixes you can play death once the media empires crumble and some kind of horrific Cormac McCarthy-esque scenario ensues.

Wolf + Lamb Variety Show
For Zev Eisenberg and Gadi Mizrahi, most of this past decade was consumed by one thing: Wolf + Lamb, the label and self-described “music community” that very discretely carries their namesake (in Hebrew, zev = wolf, gadi = lamb). 2009 was their most prolific year yet, with a handful of tours, notorious parties at the Marcy Hotel, and over a dozen sexy modern house records released since January (all of which can, quite snazzily, be downloaded directly from the W+L website at $0.99 per track). Earlier this fall, when Zev and Gadi were passing through London, they hosted a show on Diesel New Music Radio, during which they showcased new tracks by themselves and their friends, and chatted about their labels, Burning Man, and how to throw your own Marcy-style party. Now available as an installment in the incredibly rich W+L podcast series, the aptly titled Wolf + Lamb Variety Show offers two hours of amazing new music and plenty of interesting banter to boot, making it an easy choice as one of this quarter’s best downloads. (Note: Lee Foss’ Marcy recording and Deniz Kurtel’s tribute to JDilla also come very highly recommended.)

XDB – Beatdown Mix
Since 2006, Kosta Athanassiadis, aka XDB, has built an excellent catalogue of hypnotic, dub-infected records. He keeps things fresh by always trying different angles on his own sound, releasing polished techno tracks for labels like Sistrum and Delikat, and gritty, pounding house numbers on Metrolux, the label he runs with Arne Weinberg and Atheus. This month, he’ll make an appearance at Süd Electronic’s “Yuletide Knees Up” in London, a basement party where he and Levon Vincent are set to provide a flawless one-two punch of dubby, rough-edged grooves. To help promote the party, XDB put together this “Beatdown Mix,” which is really much gentler than it sounds, consisting mostly of lo-fi slow-jams like Omar=S’ “Miss You.” His aesthetic is warm, raw and trippy, and the whole thing chugs along like a slow engine with sand in its gears. In addition the exceptional Descap and Cagomi EPs, this mix is all I need for XDB to become one of my new favorites.

Reagenz – Live @ Neumo’s Decibel Festival Finale
Ever since Move D played “Keep Buildin’” at House n’ Home last January, I’ve been pretty much dying to get my hands on new material by Reagenz, his collaboration with Jonah Sharp. It was brutally cold in New York that night, and Moufang was cozily bundled up behind the decks, playing for a small loft space where hot chocolate was being served. The party peaked sometime around 3 am, and Move D dropped “Keep Buildin’” not long after to fairly devastating effect: the emotional interlude was perfectly timed — and even Moufang seemed moved by it, grinning ear to ear as he sashayed slowly to the beat. This live set, recorded in September at the Decibel Festival in Seattle, nicely captures the lush, glistening vibes Reagenz conjure, with lengthy cosmic jams interspersing new tracks like “Dinner With Q,” “Confidence,” and of course “Keep Buildin’ (feat. Fred P).” If you’re on the fence about whether to shell out on Playtime, their new album on Workshop, this recording should seal the deal.

Dor – RA Podcast 180
Without a doubt, one of this year’s strongest new labels was Laid, the all-vinyl Dial subsidiary that’s given us excellent house music by John Roberts, Rick Wade and Rndm. Laid is managed by a guy named Dor, a formerly Tel Aviv- (but currently Berlin-) based DJ who RA very shrewdly commissioned for a podcast this fall. Much like the music he releases on Laid, Dor’s mix is deep, punchy, and in equal parts classic and contemporary, with gems by Azymuth and Freddie Fowlkes blending nicely with new ones by Big Strick and Levon Vincent. His track selection and sense of flow are perfect, reflecting truly refined skill and sensibility. Considering he threw this thing together in his PJs on a borrowed set of turn tables, Dor seems like quite the nimble jock. No wonder Lawrence lists him as one of his favorite DJs.

Specter – Uzuri Mix
Another label that had a great year, if a little more discretely, was Uzuri, a gritty British house imprint who first caught my attention last year with the release of Move D’s “Quit Quittin’.” This year, Uzuri’s trademark sound has come a bit more into focus, with raw, clunky tracks by Lerosa, Jitterbug and IFM contrasting nicely with more colorful contributions by Anton Zap. Earlier this fall, Chicago DJ and producer Specter joined Uzuri’s ranks, and judging by this mix he recorded for the label, it seems he fits the bill to a T: dirty, stripped down beats mix with quivering Sci-Fi synths, and the end result is weirdly sexy and ethereal. Specter’s got some very intriguing records in his crate, and he gives them an excellent workout in these 60 minutes.

Though their records are some of the most cutting edge stuff coming out these days, Kassem Mosse and Mix Mup are techno atavists. This is easy to guess just from hearing their music: Kassem Mosse’s tracks have the dusty, rough edged feel of an all-analog set-up, while Mix Mup’s material is consistently raw and clangy, with his own New Wave vocals giving it all a charming whiff of throw-back. Of the all the musical sentiments the two producers share, one of the most potent is their longing for a time (namely, the 90′s) when nightclubs provided an outlet for more challenging, un-danceable electronic music. This is the raison d’être behind Chilling the Do, a musical project that combines records, field recordings and mixed media snippets to gleefully antagonistic effect. LWE Podcast 33 offers an exclusive and abridged version of what the duo might unfurl in a nightclub over the course of several hours. It’s dark, campy yet deeply compelling, and as they’ll be the first to admit, not for everyone.

LWE Podcast 33: Chilling the Do (77:26)

How did you two start working together?

Kassem Mosse: We worked together on the last Workshop release, we edited and did the final mix together.

Mix Mup: We also did a radio show some time ago, and realized we worked together really good. The radio show ended, and then we got this idea for Chilling the Do, a collage thing.

K: Yeah, that’s what the radio show was like, lots of samples and collage stuff. Just on a local station here in Leipzeig, called Radio Blau. But we had a lot of people listening in. Sometimes people still tell me they used to listen to the show, which is very strange, because we never had much feedback.

How would you explain the concept behind the mix?

M: In the 90′s there were many chill out zones in clubs. There was the main floor, and then the chill out floor. Nowadays, you have the second floor, but it’s also a dance floor. So we miss this chill out location.

Isn’t this collage a little more experimental than usual chill out room stuff?

K: Well, it’s very much our chill-out room. It’s maybe not the typical concept you think of when you think of a chill out room, not just nice melodies and stuff. Our idea of it is a place where you go and you try to actually listen to something. Maybe you’re talking to your friends and then you get surprised by something, so you keep listening, without dancing. This one is supposed to be a bit more eerie. It goes back to our radio show — we would have a topic, and collect radio snippets and sounds that fit the topic and then go from there.

K: Usually, Chilling the Do is a live thing. We do it for four hours or more. On the radio show, we would just play with samples, there was not much talking. It was like communicating through samples, through snippets from a TV series, interviews from the Internet, old movies. Now we do this live, and it’s very long — like, the whole night. In this case, we chose a theme that is inspired by old horror movies… we show our dark side in this mix. This was kind of a special thing — it’s not live, it’s a mix. Usually we play instruments.

K: Yeah, there’s some stuff on there that’s unreleased material, but usually we’d have instruments. We didn’t do that for this [podcast] because we didn’t have enough time, it wouldn’t fit; we didn’t want to be rushing through things.

What kind of setting would you perform in?

M: We want to do this in nightclubs, in a typical chill out zone, where people come back from the dance floor and listen to something that’s not a straight 4/4 beat. But it’s very difficult nowadays — I think people have lost their patience for this sort of thing. So, we’d like to do it in nightclubs and we know its possible, but, well, it’s not always possible. Sometimes we do it in other locations, like bars, or we could do it in something more like an art space, but that’s another kind of crowd.

K: Yeah, that’s another idea. You know, there used to be a time where you wouldn’t have just DJs playing on all floors. Nowadays you go to a club and you have two floors or three floors, and you just have DJs playing dance music on all floors. There was a time when it wasn’t like that, where you could go to some space and just hang out and talk to your friends, and you really don’t have that anymore. Maybe you have a back room or something, but it’s just not really a special place. But sometimes you do have it and people don’t like it — we’ve had a very negative reaction to this. They go to a place where usually there’s two floors of techno, but tonight we’re playing, and they say, “What is this? Play some techno! What’s the point of this? We don’t get it.” Its not enough for them to go to one floor to listen to techno, they need always two floors. I mean, nothing against techno or anything, but I mean, this behavior — I don’t get it. People are not so open-minded as perhaps they were some time ago.

Do you think maybe, as techno attracts more of a mainstream crowd, they’re less likely to understand something so experimental?

K: Yeah, sure.

M: I think so. I don’t like to talk like this, but I’ll do it now again [laughs]. When I first experienced techno in the 90′s, when I was like 14 years old, and for the first time went to a club in my hometown in East Germany, everything was very new, and you went there because you wanted to hear something you never heard before. It was all very experimental, everyone there was very open-minded.

K: I think it has to do with expectations. Actually, I was reading that [LWE] post on Innervisions, and Dixon was saying that he doesn’t give away mixes because he doesn’t want people to have expectations when they come to a club. And maybe that’s the thing — back in the days when this was new, people didn’t know what to expect, and nowadays they just want to hear this or that type of thing. But in the 90′s it was not like that, people were more curious. I sound like a grumpy old man, but still. [laughs] Sometimes I’m missing a little tension in clubs, I want the DJ to play something different, that doesn’t fit too well.

M: We need surprises. We are looking for surprises, and we can’t find it, so we do it ourselves — we surprise each other.

K: That’s true — because when we play as Chilling the Do, we don’t know what the other one is going to bring, we don’t listen to the stuff before hand, so it’s like a constant ping pong kind of affair. It’s a way of keeping things interesting for us too.

What’s an example of a time and place where Chilling the Do performed and it really kicked ass?

K: How could it kick ass? [laughs] The best example would be when we played at this local place, which was exactly one of those nights where on the one hand you have people approaching you saying, “This is a techno floor, why are you not playing techno?” but you also have this perfect situation, because the way people were sitting was like a subway train somehow, they sat sideways in rows. So we played a lot of train sounds, to make it feel like everyone was on a train, traveling around. Very surreal.

M: It was a recording of the subway in Jena… we recorded it for an hour or so from the main station.

I would have expected you play in art spaces rather than clubs.

K: Yeah, right, but that’s not enough for us, we’re not content to play in art spaces.

Chilling the Do has a focus on hardware and improvisation that’s fairly unusual for live acts today. Would you say there’s a statement involved in that?

M: Well, we’re just doing what feels natural for us. But at the same time, it comes to a statement, because we’re not just doing it at home for ourselves.

K: And you know, we want to see a certain change perhaps, we want to see more open structures. You have people trying that, doing these laptop orchestras and stuff like this… but you need more of a possibility that something can go wrong. There must be room for mistakes — if something goes wrong, that’s OK, it happens, it’s alright. Everybody’s playing it safe, and that’s something I don’t like so much. Especially with new technology, everything’s just very safe. You can get your timing fixed and then mold everything together, you can have ten mp3s all going at the same speed, but what’s the point? It’s more interesting if you have these things where you can see that someone has to know how to work these things. Perhaps things go out of sync for a moment, but then you bring it back together — it gives it kind of a human edge. Perhaps that’s something I’m missing — the chance to fail.

Are there any live acts right now you really admire?

K: Well there’s Rancho Relaxo, that stuff is kind of like what we do.

M: There’s also The Midnight Episode… one of our friends… on Myspace.

K: Yeah, they’re really cool people, really like-minded kind of project. It’s very good music.

LWE Podcast 33: Chilling the Do (77:26)

The first time I saw Shaun Reeves DJ, it was on iTunes. I was at the Marcy Hotel in Brooklyn, interviewing his roommate and DJ partner Seth Troxler, when Shaun introduced me to what immediately became one of my favorite house tracks: Nick Holder’s “Feelin’ Sad.” Seth asked if I had ever heard Shaun DJ, and I said I hadn’t. He gave me a knowing look and said “He’s the best.” Across the room, Lee Curtiss nodded in firm agreement. Knowing Shaun only by his terrific edit of Wolf + Lamb’s “If U Had,” I was intrigued. I didn’t get to see him behind the decks until a few months later, at his birthday party in some smoky New York basement. Right away I knew Seth and Lee weren’t kidding; Shaun’s mixing style was amazing, full of deft sleights of hand and perfectly executed blow-up moments. Though a bit subtler than his set that night, LWE’s 32nd podcast has the same impressive qualities, showcasing the sense of groove and flawless track selection that make Shaun a favorite in Berlin lofts and underground clubs around the world.

LWE Podcast 32: Shaun Reeves (55:29)

Tracklist:

01. Ryan Crosson, “Metro Bunker” [Eklo*]
02. Masomenos, “Piano” [Welcome To Masomenos]
03. Jin Choi, “Are You Out There?” (Tolga Fidan Remix) [Roman,Photo]
04. Affkt & Danny Fiddo, “Points” (Villalobos Una Puta Mas Atras Remix) [Barraca Music]
05. Seuil, “Lost in the Soul Shower” [Freak n' Chic]
06. Lee Curtiss, “Smoking Mirrors” [Spectral Sound*]
07. Memory Foundation, “Summer Visions” [Yore Records]
08. Jimpster, “Sleeper” [Freerange Records]
09. Inxec & Matt Tolfrey, “Show Me How (To Feel It)” [*]
10. DJ W!ld, “Untitled” [*]
11. Addled, “Crescendo” [*]
12. Michael Collins, “You Tenderly Fall Apart” (Gadi Edit) [*]
*denotes unreleased tracks

When and how was the mix recorded?

Shaun Reeves: I recorded the mix last week in my living room.

What kind of feel were you going for with this mix?

I was trying to keep it deep and groovy but moving.

What’s your favorite kind of party to DJ? What are some of your favorite spots?

Any party where people are enjoying themselves and the music is fine by me. My favorite spots so far are Club der Visionaere in Berlin, Fabric in London, and the Marcy Hotel in Brooklyn.

What are some producers or tracks you’re really digging at the moment?

Lee Curtiss, Ryan Crosson, Seth Troxler, Cesar Merveille, and Wolf + Lamb.

What can we expect from you in the months ahead?

I have a new release that I made with Seth Troxler and Hector coming out on Crosstown Rebels this month under the name The Royal We. Also in the near future I have a remix I made with Lee Curtiss coming out on a new label from Belgium called Readymade. In November I will going to the U.S. for a tour with stops in Miami, NYC, LA, and some others. Really excited for that as always, its great to come home and see friends also its been extremely fun playing there recently.

LWE Podcast 32: Shaun Reeves (55:29)

[Thesongsays]

About this time back in 2007, Bruno Pronsato was finishing up his sophomore album, Why Can’t We Be Like Us, and struggling to fit in one final song: an epic, electronic ballad called “The Make Up The Break Up.” It was an especially compelling track, and Pronsato did everything he could to fit it onto the album, but in the end it was just too long and had to be left out. Why Can’t We Be Like Us dropped at the end of the year — promptly receiving a deluge of praise — and “The Make Up The Break Up” remained a work-in-progress, appearing only in scattered cameos throughout his live sets. Pronsato wanted to release it on its own, but ran into many logistical problems: at 38 minutes in length, with no reasonable flip-over point for vinyl, The Make Up The Break Up was even more of a square peg than his previous productions. After several false starts and many months of haggling, he finally decided to release it himself, as the first title on his own imprint, thesongsays. In the end, all this aggravation only attests to the song’s exceptional nature: “The Make Up The Break Up” could be Pronsato’s finest work to date, and is surely one of the best records of 2009.

“The Make Up The Break Up” begins with some of Pronsato’s favorite tropes: sharp buzzes, wet hand-claps, and a medley of abstract but distinctly organic sounds. The first ten minutes are obviously cut from the same cloth as Why Can’t We Be Like Us, focusing heavily on vivid percussion: shakers, brush sticks, and sonorous toms, all of which reflect an audiophile’s attention to detail. Faint shimmers of melody appear after a while, and soon the drums subside, making way for a very deep and very familiar female voice, crooning weird incantations over a blur of violins. This moment forms “The Make Up The Break Up”‘s glowing center; from here on the piece is illuminated, strewn with dim embers of melody. It all dwindles down slowly from there, and soon the bass drum checks out completely, leaving just a handful of loops to sputter out in the cool green haze of the track’s final stretch.

Part of what I love about this record is how it defies categorization: much like “Take 1 / Take 2,” his collaboration with Daze Maxim, it doesn’t fit into any of the typical techno formats (single, album, EP, etc.), and is best seen as a “piece.” In a way, “The Make Up The Break Up” harks back to Manuel Göttsching’s E2-E4, but while that long-playing classic is content to bob in place for 45 minutes, “MUBU” stays on the move, leading the listener across vivid and abstract terrain in what feels like far less than 38 minutes. As with most of Pronsato’s work, it withstands countless listens, and continues to reveal subtle detail after dozens of plays. “The Make Up The Break Up” shows that, like so few of his contemporaries, Bruno Pronsato can follow his strangest impulses and come up with something truly remarkable.

In the mostly faceless world of techno, a little bit of character can go a long way. This explains, at least in part, Seth Troxler’s speedy and seemingly effortless rise in the international house and techno scene. Musically and personally, he has a lot more charisma than the average DJ/producer (and for those of you who haven’t already heard it a dozen times, he’s a 23 year old Michigan native currently DJing full time in Berlin, which in this culture earns him quite a few cool points). I found Seth in the shadowy back room of The Marcy Hotel, fully reclined on a dirty sofa with his head cradled in a girl’’s lap, smoking a joint. He looked pretty relaxed, but sprung duly to his feet when I said I was here for the interview in anticipation for his appearance at Electric Zoo Labor Day Weekend. We moved to a room with more sufficient lighting, and Seth gave me an earful about his background, his goals as an artist, and the downside to DJing in Berlin.

Let’s talk about your background a little bit. What were some of your first experiences with house and techno?

Seth Troxler: I grew up in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and first started going to parties when I went to high school in Detroit. When I was 15 I threw a party with Magda, and by the time I was sixteen I was DJing Spectral Parties at The Works. Basically I’ve just been a total rave kid ever since I was a teenager. I “retired” from my job at The Palace [Detroit's sports and entertainment arena] when I was 16 cause they wouldn’t let me keep my dreadlocks… basically haven’t had a real job since then.

How did you end up moving to Berlin?

Well, I had just graduated high school, and [Ryan] Crosson had just broken up with his girlfriend, so we were like, ‘Fuck it, let’s move.’ We made a plan to move exactly a year later, and we stuck to it.

How did you and Ryan Crosson meet?

Oh man, it’s the biggest bromance. Ryan tells it all cute too. We met one day when I was working at Melodies and Memories in Detroit. That night, Dan Bell and Magda were playing in a meat locker in Detroit. Crosson and I went to the party and just got hammered, we were spraying beer everywhere and shit. Eventually we passed out in the parking lot of his dad’s factory. The next morning we got some Coney’s for breakfast, and before we went in we decided to pretend we were German DJs the whole time, talking with accents and shit. We’ve been really close ever since, and we’re roommates now in Berlin, with Shaun [Reeves].

I heard some of your first gigs in Europe were at Panoramabar and Robert Johnson.

Yeah, a week after I graduated from high school, I went to Berlin to DJ at the Playhouse party, at Panoramabar with Omar-S. It was totally different. In Berlin it’s just like, let’s turn the lights down and get weird. Detroit kinda has that too, everyone’s just locked into the music, but you definitely get a special vibe in Berlin.

What’s it like bouncing between Europe and the U.S.? How are the parties different?

In Europe there are obviously lots of amazing clubs, and its great because so many people come out that love this shit. But they also kinda know what to expect. I think especially in the past few years, past three or four years or so, at least in Berlin, the party scene has changed because people are so used to partying.

How do you mean exactly?

Well it’s like, in Berlin people come out, and they’re like ‘Wooo, yeah!’ [puts his hands in the air], and they’re still there the next day and everything, its great. But a few years ago it was like, whoooooa. Like, seriously hedonistic. Now it feels like people are going through the motions sometimes, you know? That makes it fun to play in the U.S., cause it’s a lot easier to blow people’s minds.

That reminds me: Marcel Dettmann said recently that The Bunker is one of his favorite parties. For a guy who’s been and played so many parties around the world, I found that pretty surprising.

Yeah, that’s the thing. You play at the craziest parties in Berlin and the UK and everything and its great, but the people there have been into this music for years. So somebody like Marcel comes here and people like “WHAAAAAT?!” It makes it really fun for the DJ’s. Cassy told me that after her set at Paxahau 10 year anniversary in Detroit, she cried. In Berlin, it just doesn’t go off like it used to, we’ve all noticed it. Still leaps and bounds a head of the rest of the world, but just not as crazy as it used to be. Berlin really needs something new.

Let’s talk about your newest track, “Aphrika.” How did you decide to use a Maya Angelou poem for the vocals?

I heard it on a Defected a cappella compilation and I just liked the words, thought it was a cool idea. It’s like, I’m dedicating this one to all the special ladies, all the phenomenal women, you know? [laughs] I also like that it sort of sounds like a trannie, declaring her gender, “I’m a woman,” which makes it kinda weird.

Why do you think that appeals to you?

[laughs] I’m a weird dude I guess. Really didn’t think about it too much, I just like the feeling it gives the track. A lot of music coming out now is just beat tools, and I wanted to give it some more atmosphere.

Photo by Will Calcutt

Do you try to be more colorful than other house and techno producers?

Yeah, I think some dance music is a little bit dry. A lot of people are just putting out “product,” not taking enough chances. It’s like, go with your own ideas, do something new, something weird. I want my music to be remembered in an art history sense — like, I want it to be culturally remembered. Obviously the beats should work well, but there’s also so much room to play. You can always use packaging and pseudonyms to put in a lot of concept. Like, for instance —

[Seth grabs two records, "Take 1/ Take 2" by Others and "Warriors" by LoSoul featuring Malte.]

[Others] is a great record. But there’s nothing here except the music. “Warriors” has a lot more shit goin’ on. I used to look at this sleeve and wonder, where are all these places? Who took these pictures, who are all these people? Actually — pretty sure that’s Heidi from Get Physical right there. I know her now. Huh. Anyway, this is what I mean. I want the whole product to be worth it, there should be room for fantasy. So many records are just the dude’s name, with two tracks in a white sleeve. I want my records to be more like this, something people can really connect to. Like, on the cover of “Sexplosion EP,” all that blotter paper symbolizes growing up in Michigan — Kid and Play, pizza, Rambo, all shit that was cool growing up in Michigan.

It seems like a lot of artists, especially in techno, like the simple functionality of the records, and intentionally avoid artwork and pseudonyms.

Yeah, but I mean, techno creates a fantasy too, they’re doing their own thing. It makes it more mysterious, makes the whole thing more engaging. But I’m a crazy dude, and I want my music to be weird and crazy. Sometimes I feel like I wanna be the Andy Kaufmann of techno.

How do you mean?

Well, like the whole Sex Trothler thing. The idea behind that was, Sex Troxler is supposed to be like my Jewish alter ego. One night I put on one of those masks that’s like, glasses, a nose and a mustache — actually, we cut off the mustache, cause I have my own mustache — and we said this was Sex Trothler, the Jewish version of Seth Troxler. We had a “Bar Mitzvah” party at the Marcy, the whole thing was a really fun, weird joke. Same thing with Thrill Cosby, that was another one of my characters. At first, I wanted Thrill Cosby to be in blackface, but no one was really down with that. [laughs]

Do you think that kind of playfulness is missing from techno at the moment?

Well, techno in Berlin is really focused on progress. Which is good, but it’s like, fuck! There’s so much room to play, you know? Let’s just have fun with this shit. You know that track with P Diddy, where he’s like, “I wanna hear something I can fuck to, something I can rob a bank to…” that’s how I feel! Obviously it should work in the club, but I also wanna be able to clean my house to this shit, make something people can connect to. It’s hard sometimes; there was a four month period where I just couldn’t make anything good enough, just ended up smoking weed and browsing the Internet all day. But I wasn’t just gonna release product, it’s important to me that each EP really represents something.

Is that a perspective you share with the other guys here at Wolf + Lamb?

Yeah. Wolf + Lamb is an outlet that’s providing depth touched with a pop sensibility, taking risks with class and sophistication. [laughs] I mean, that’s true, but also none of us really give a fuck. Wolf + Lamb is all about smokin’ joints and not givin’ a fuck.

So have you always had this laid back attitude or was there a time where you were really determined to market yourself and get your music out there?

No, I never did shit, never sent anybody a demo, probably only made two mix CDs ever.

Do you ever feel strange about how far you’ve come?

Oh yeah, there’s not a second I take it for granted. It’s ridiculous — like my own private joke. Kinda goes back to what I said about being the Andy Kaufmann of dance music.

What are some labels and artists you’re really into at the moment?

I really like Jin Chio at the moment; also Chris Sylvester, or Inxec is making bombs. The best label for me right now is Cómeme, a new disco sub-label on Kompakt — it’s really magic!

Any plans for the next release?

Just had a remix for Louderbach on M_nus, and there’s an EP coming on Spectral Sound with a track I co-produced with Matt Dear. Also, a Paco Osuna remix, and a remix I made with Shaun Reeves of Adam Marshal coming on Aus Music. Ummm… a remix on Adults Only. Also a Visionquest remix of Kiki called “Good Voodoo” for BPitch — it’s a bomb.

2009: Another year, another plethora of podcasts. Lots of amazing freebies have come out since the beginning of the year, and though many of them are nothing to write home about, quite a few are really exceptional. In addition to LWE’s nifty collection, you’ve got mnml ssgs churning out heady techno gems on a weekly basis and RA raising the bar higher than ever before (DJ Koze’s podcast still hasn’t lost its magic). But really, who’s got time for all this? With each one at least an hour long and weighing something near 100mb, the sheer volume of content means a lot of great stuff just falls by the wayside. So to help you sort through all this noise, here are five mixes you won’t regret right-clicking and saving-as.

01. Jan Krüger @ Dayshift
Jan Krüger seems like a generally humble guy, but after DJing in Portland last month he couldn’t resist putting a recording of his own set up on mnml.nl. It was, according to Jan, a “truly magical and sunny afternoon party,” which is pretty easy to picture once you hear the mix. As the man behind Hello? Repeat, Jan’s taste and sense of flow are impeccable, and in these three hours he courses through a spectacular blend of trippy, funky and sad records, many of which I’ve been desperately pursuing as of late (tracks four and five, anyone?) For me, this is not only one of the best mixes of 2009, but one of my favorite DJ mixes ever.

02. Speedy J & Issakidis, Get The Curse Podcast
Cliché though it may sound, I have an undying desire for music that sounds like something DJs would play at a disco in Blade Runner, and this mix by Speedy J and George Issakidis fits that criteria to a tee. This is a really unique example of what Speedy J calls “DJing in parts,” or what I think of as post-DJing: using dozens of short loops rather than tracks to create something entirely new. But unlike the loop-crazy sets Hawtin slaps together on Traktor, this one takes its time, gradually rolling through a series of undetectable transitions. Its slow, psychedelic, and very unlike most everything else you hear today.

03. Julietta, Ibiza Voice Podcast
While some podcasts provide a nice soundtrack for late night reading or the morning commute, others prompt daydreams of all out, sweaty peak-time clubbing. The Ibiza Voice podcast tends toward the latter, and Julietta’s contribution from January is one of the series’ finest installments. I’m not sure when and where this mix was recorded, but judging by its sunny vibes and ceaseless energy, I’d have guess this is a recording of some bash on the white isle. With so many great tracks so perfectly mixed, this one makes for an easy escape from the doldrums of the workday, even if only in your head.

04. Anton Zap, Roof.fm mix
In the past year or so, Anton Zap’s releases on Uzuri and Quintessentials have made him one of house music’s most intriguing new names. His style is hazy and euphoric, with spaced out touches of classical music thrown in for good measure. This mix for Roof.fm is one of the first by Zap that’s really made the rounds, and should give you a good idea of what this talented young Muscovite’s all about. My favorite track from the bunch is Danieto’s “Tres,” which can be had entirely for free, along with about thirty other similar tracks here on the Impar website.

05. Bruno Pronsato, The Bunker Podcast
In the disproportionately DJ-focused world of electronic music, artists who refuse to get behind the decks are an admirable bunch. Bruno Pronsato is one such artist, and his recent performance at The Bunker shows how live sets can achieve a level of character that would be hard to pull off with someone else’s records. Bruno really gets down and dirty with his tracks, atomizing them into single snaps and buzzes and smartly re-contextualizing it all. You can really hear him at work — abrupt drop-offs and moments of unevenness only make the set better by making it sound truly “live.” As someone with a former career in punk and metal, Bruno clearly appreciates the importance of hearing an artist make music on the fly.

[Mule Electronic]

Back in the summer of 2007, Chris Mann began his review of the Soul Jazz Box of Dub with the following statement: “Most compilations are like group photos: someone always has their eyes closed.” I find this usually tends to be true, and never more so than on Mule Electronic’s Enjoy The Silence Vol. 1. This collection of ambient music by house and techno producers ranges from excellent to completely boring, with typically impressive names falling into both camps. All in all, it is a pretty dull release, despite a few strong moments.

Koss kicks things off rather lamely with “Endless Flight,” a dreary piano piece consisting of little more than a melodramatic chord progression. Things shape up a bit with Strategy’s “After Mometaths,” a vaporous and fully ambient number that’s very pretty, if a little unfinished sounding. On “Approaching India,” Benjamin Brunn appears sadly out of form, half-heartedly noodling on his favored Nord Modular. Thomas Fehlmann gets things back on track with “Scheiben,” an elegantly murky soundscape with bits of fleeting melody. On “In Smoke We All Become Birds,” Minilogue set transparent breakbeats against a sooty breeze, forming one of album’s strongest tracks. Retreating from his usual home at ~scape, Jan Jelinek keeps the momentum going with “Stripped to Realmode,” a song that manages to be both glitchy and soothing.

Always the wild card, DJ Koze appears with “Lords of Panama Rendered,” a trippy experimental piece that sounds playfully antagonistic in such somber company. But Lawrence fumbles the momentum with “Sunrise,” a beatless track as uninspired as its title. Probably the best track here is DJ Sprinkles’ “Music Is A Controllable Desire You Can Own.” Like its title, it’s really just a reduced version of “House Music is a Controllable Desire You Can Own,” off his album Midtown 120 Blues, but its locomotive piano chords and snowy New York glow make it a very worthwhile reprise. Enjoy the Silence is weakest in its final stretch. Takuwan’s “Aika-Laiva” is totally forgettable, and in fact very hard to notice in the first place (unfortunate for a debut track), while Watanabe’s “A Source of Light” and Vince Watson’s “Serenity” would sound more in place on a volume of Pure Moods.

Several solid tracks aside, Enjoy the Silence seems to miss the point that good ambient music should be more than just pretty sounding. Most of the artists here seem completely out of their element, which they are: producers like Koss, Lawrence and Strategy are great at wispy techno, but without a beat they sound adrift. Anyone seeking quality material along the same lines (and by some of the same artists) would do well to track down last year’s tragically overlooked Diaspora: Cottage Industries 5, or My Favorite Things Vol. 2, another comp due next month on Mule.

Hailing from the city of Perpignan, Sylvain Garcia, aka Le K, exemplifies the curveball of French underground producers. In terms of style, he fits in the same milieu as compatriots dOP and Noze, favoring floppy, organic sounds, and a playfully anti-purist attitude. In the past few years, he’s released records on Circus Company, Thema, and Feinwerk, and has remixed artists like Scott and Paul Frick. As this exclusive mix reflects, his unique personality and focus on eclecticism set him apart as a truly original, and truly French house artist.

LWE Podcast 21: Le K (89:51)

Tracklist:

01. Moondog, “Caribea” [Prestige]
02. Cesaria Evora, “Angola” (Pépé Bradock’s Get Down Dub) [Lusafrica]
03. Kenny Larkin, “Glob” [Planet E]
04. Keinzweiter, “Quantum” [spontanMusik]
05. Lee Jones, “Soon” [Aus Music]
06. Ian Simmonds, “The Woodhouse Suite” [Musik Krause]
07. Sonar Kollektiv Orchester, “Rej” [Sonar Kollektiv]
08. Tom Ellis, “Detach” [Hartchef Discos]
09. Le K, “Back Boutique” [Thema]
10. Beckett & Taylor, “You Gotta Work” [Hand on the Plow]
11. Scott & Aroop Ry, “Anytime” (Le K remix) [My Best Friend]
12. Paul Frick, “Favourite Song” [30porumalinha]
13. Trankilou, “Atom Funk” [Kif Recordings]
14. Daniel Wang, “Like “Some Dream (I Can’t Stop Dreaming)” [Balihu Records]
15. Mr. G, “The Struggle Of My People” [Duty Free Recordings]
16. Le Chien Perdu, “Handsome Interruption” [Karat Records]
17. Terrence Dixon, “Links” [Yore Records]
18. Le K, “Moody Rainbow” [30porumalinha]
19. Pépé Bradock, “Intriguing Feathered Creature” [Atavisme]
20. Kink, “Let’s Talk About Drum” [unreleased]
21. Spandex, “I Love My V50″ [Sleep Debt Records]
22. The Black E, “Y-O-Y Jack” [Sleep Debt Records]
23. Aluf, “Buddy Bloden Blues” (Le K Humanity remix) [unreleased]
24. Dick Annegarn, “Coutances” [Astralwerks]

What’s the idea behind the mix?

Le K: It reflects my position on dance music — my image, my style. For me, dance music has to be… weird? Not so much more drugged people, more for peopled drinking red wine. And really eclectic. I really love eclectic sets and I love eclectic DJs. When I go to a club and the set is just one kind of music, if the DJ is not really really good, I can get bored pretty quickly. So I try to present an eclectic vision of what I like.

How do you mean “not for drugged people”?

Ah, well, when you DJ or play every weekend — actually, I usually play live, not DJ –you can tell within five minutes whether it’s a more drugged crowd or drunken crowd. And it’s totally different either way — the music has to be different for each crowd. For my music, it is much better if the crowd is less drugged, more drunk. I’m not against drugs! I took some, of course. But with drugs, the vibe is totally different — it’s a different kind of party, every person is in his own bubble… the vibe is more egocentric, focused on one point. I like the music that works in this kind of party, but I cannot play this kind of music.

Who are some of your favorite DJs from past and present?

Well, of course I like some French artists, like Ark and Krikor, and Daft Punk used to be amazing. The first time I was ever shocked by electronic music, it was at a Daft Punk concert in 1994, at a big festival in the South of France. It was really fucking amazing, man, not like the bullshit they do now. The mainstream French scene now is just some of the worst music: Justice, Ed Banger, for me it’s hell. It’s like AC/DC, or dance music from the Supermarket. But yeah, until about 2003, Daft Punk were great. Today, I really like some artists you often talk about on your site who I know personally: Paul Frick and Dave Aju. Pépé Bradock is great also. And I really like Frivolous, a new guy on ~scape.

What can we expect from you for the rest of the year?

I did a remix for my Greek friend, Aluf — it’s on the mix. He was supposed to release it on his label but he had some problem with the money, his girlfriend… house, dog, all this shit…. I’ve been working on my first album for three months and I’d like to release it by the end of the year, but it keeps going in new directions. One day I make a really pure dance track, another day I make something really low tempo with piano. So, we’ll see. (Interview by Will Lynch)

LWE Podcast 21: Le K (89:51)

Each year at the end of May, thousands of somber looking people wearing muted tones descend on Montreal for Mutek, a festival celebrating electronic music performance. It’s one of the most important electronic music festivals in the world, and along with Movement, one of the two biggest in North America. In some respects, Mutek offers a counterpoint to Movement. Kicking off only a week after the Detroit festival ends, Mutek focuses on electronic performance of all kinds, including the avant-garde, while Movement is primarily a festival for dance music. Furthermore, while Movement is characterized by swarms of DJs at official and unofficial parties, Mutek encourages artists to perform live rather than DJ. This makes for a rather unique experience for electronic music fans who rarely get to see and hear their favorite artists playing their own songs. Which isn’t to say the festival looks down on DJing as an art form. Rather, Mutek strives to offer a panoramic view of everything going on in electronic music today, from ambient drones to schaffel beats and everything in between. For their 10th anniversary, Mutek pulled out all the stops and put on a truly exceptional festival, affirming their position as one of the best music festivals worldwide.

SND. Photo by Sherry Kennedy

I arrived in Montreal on Friday night, having already missed three days of performances, including Appleblim, Ezekiel Honig, and worst of all, Gas. (Painful, but who can afford five nights in a hotel these days?). After seven hours in the car, I was ready to get loose, but my weekend began on a very experimental note: A/Visions 3, with SND, Nsi. and Artificiel, in an intimate, old fashioned theater called the Monument National. It was hard to get too cozy with the likes of SND, a very Raster-Noton outfit with ultra-clean synth sounds that gimp along awkwardly, falling into a glitchy groove every now and then. Their performance was good, but would have benefited from a dance floor; to a seated audience, their lapses in and out of rhythm had much less impact than they should have.

Nsi. Photo by Andrea

Nsi., on the other hand, were much better suited to the venue. Throughout their hour-long set, Tobias Freund and Max Loderbauer led us through a vivid sequence of inky soundscapes that were equal parts soothing and unsettling. The pair had a very good sense of pace; whenever the audience began to zone out, they would jar us back into attention, once with some of the clacky piano meanderings a la Plays Non Standards, and later with a pair of truly creepy vocal samples (“JA!” and “nein…“). It was hard to tell exactly what they were doing, though from the balcony I could see Max playing piano and Tobias holding his hand beneath a very small, rapidly pulsing light. The entire performance was elegantly back-lit with an installation by Jimmy Lakatos, consisting (from what I could tell) of little more than tin foil, canvas and light. The result was something very distant and mysterious, and perfectly compatible with Nsi.’s set. I found myself dozing a bit during Nsi., so rather than sticking for Artificiel or trying out the good-but-not-great lineup of that night’s Nocturne event (Mike Shannon, Ernesto Ferreyra, Ghislain Poirier, etc.), I opted for poutine, blonde beer and bed. At festivals like this, its important to conserve your own energy, and Saturday’s lineup promised to be wonderfully exhausting.

Robert Henke’s “Atom.” Photo by Andrea

The day started with Robert Henke’s “Atom,” an event I’d been anticipating for quite some time. “Atom” is, in short, an audio-visual performance involving 64 remote-controlled balloons that move and flicker in patterns, with live music by Henke (member of Monolake and one of Ableton’s developers). The performance took place in a pitch-dark room in the back of the theater, with the audience all sitting cross legged on the floor while the balloons drifted and flashed over our heads. The music was very experimental at first — maybe closer to rhythmic sound art — with all of the meticulous attention to detail one would expect from Henke (some unbelievably clear metallic clicks toward the beginning stand out in my memory). The balloons moved under the control of Christopher Bauder, the visual artist who produces “Atom” with Henke, shifting back and forth between nebulous swarms and more architectural configurations, always flickering in patterns that mirrored Henke’s music. A bass drum appeared about thirty minutes into the performance, and was followed by a very stark and heavy Monolake-eque techno track.

For this “scene,” the balloons formed a pyramid consisting of several wobbly rows, with each row flashing in correspondence to a different loop in Henke’s track. This was the best part of the performance, though virtually every moment seemed to hold the crowd agog. Of the dozen or so experimental performances I’ve seen, this one most easily held the audience’s attention from beginning to end. Later, the room filled with red light and the balloons continued to bob and flicker, forming more of a static art installation for members of the audience to approach and inspect. Henke and Bauder stuck around for an informal Q&A session, during which I heard Henke say, “Yeah, I pretty much used Ableton for the entire thing.” As I left, someone asked for his autograph.

Outside the Theatre Maissoneuve, the wind was up and the sun was bright — good news for the Piknik Electronik, which until then I had only attended on gray, rainy days. Located in Parc Jean-Drapeau, the Piknics are possibly Mutek’s most prized events, and understandably so: The setting is truly exceptional, with an amazing view of the Montreal waterfront and a strange metal sculpture encasing the dance floor. The park itself is accessible to festival goers as well; anyone looking for a break can wander down paths to secluded areas with picnic tables, waterfalls, and even a few woodchucks scuttling around. The only problem is the weather. At last year’s Mutek, Piknic 1 got rained out, and Piknic 2 went on as planned despite highly mediocre conditions. This only made it more exciting to be headed to Parc Jean-Drapeau on such a bright and blustery afternoon — definitely the best weather I’d seen in Montreal. Brendon Moeller was giving off good vibes when I got there, playing a live set full of bouncy tracks like “Electricity” while a sunglassed crowd happily grooved. Thomas Fehlmann took over from there, and stole the afternoon with a live set of truly epic techno that sounded amazing under the sun and blue skies. His jacking schaffel beats and euphoric chords weren’t always my style exactly, but there was no denying that he got the crowd more amped than anyone else that day.

Trus’me. Photo by Matt Cheetham

This made for a slightly awkward transition into Trus’me’s live/DJ set, but it was only a minute or two before the crowd was swaying to the slow and baggy beats turned out by Prime Numbers’ boss. His live set mixed samples and motifs from nearly all of his own productions, most notably “W.A.R.” and a few things from other Prime Numbers artists, like Linkwood’s “RIP.” It was a great live set, especially for those of us who’ve gotten so much mileage out of “Working Nights,” his 2007 album (I was particularly pleased to hear a few samples from Jackie Brown). But somehow he seemed eager to switch to the decks, and things picked up when he finally did. His set was heavy, loose and lethargic, and did a great job of easing the now-tipsy audience into a tawny dusk.

Sometime during Trus’me’s set, I spotted Villalobos and Zip leaning against a rail and looking out over the crowd. Ricardo was wearing a nauseatingly busy zip-up that probably cost him five or six hundred euro, and was gleefully chatting up a group of fans. One young couple asked if he’d like to smoke a joint with them, to which he replied, “Ahh, I already said I would be smoking with some guys over there… but in general I mean, ja, of course… always!” The Mole came on around 7, and though it seemed like a lot of people were won over by his DJ/live set, I found it a bit sloppy and uninspired. The tracks were good, but the beats were only OK — I never got the feeling of being forced to dance, which Trus’me and Thomas Fehlmann had both achieved. Nonetheless, it was great to hear “Baby, You’re The One” in such an appropriately sunny setting.

Alva Noto. Photo by Landon Speers

Next up was A/V+ at SAT, another experimental event, this time consisting entirely of Raster-Noton acts. I got there in time to hear Atom TM finish his set, during which I sat drinking beer on a surrealistically over-sized picnic table. He sounded pretty good, but an afternoon under the sun had left me feeling languid– I would need a little more recuperation time before I could enjoy such a glitchy affair. Fortunately, I was able to drag myself over to the stage for Alva Noto, someone I’ve enjoyed seeing live in the past. Like many Raster-Noton acts, he does an excellent job of making his music engaging in a live situation (which might seem hard to imagine after hearing his recent Xeroxx albums). He works the crowd with the same sleights of hand a DJ might use — deceiving everyone into thinking the bass has already dropped and then smothering us with low frequencies, or turning an awkwardly mechanical glitch sequence into an almost-funky groove by use of a single hand clap. His visuals were very original: behind him, a video screen displayed what looked like a map of his own audio-visual set up, in which various spectrographs jumped and shifted with the music. After a while, the “camera” would temporarily zoom into one section of the map, so that after a while each new song was characterized by a different spectrograph. Alva Noto himself was drenched in the light of the video projector, which gave him a fittingly creepy persona.

Tobias. Photo by Matt Cheetham

After a brief wink which turned out to be a rather long wink, I finally found myself back at Metropolis sometime around 2 am. Word had it that Matthew Johnson and Dandy Jack tore it up with their dual live set, but I missed them by a hair, arriving just as Tobias. was warming up. Upon entering the main room of Metropolis, I was immediately blown away by the stage lighting: Tobias. stood poised in the center of what looked like a fluorescent blue vortex, with a video screen behind him displaying a three dimensional geometric plain. I made my way onto the large dance floor while the crowd shifted awkwardly to “Go,” which in this context, served as something like an extended break down. Tobias. looked exactly as he had during Nsi.’s performance the night before — handsome, with slicked back hair, a dark polo shirt, and the posture of a man 100% in control. (Incidentally, I heard he was having technical difficulties for much of the set, but at the time I was none the wiser.) Sooner or later a bass drum finally kicked, and from there Tobias. slipped through a long medley of his best singles, including “Street Knowledge,” “I Can’t Fight The Feeling” (with a much heavier beat than on record), and “Clapper,” whose huge and menacing vibe sounded perfectly appropriate on such a massive dance floor. He finished with a few hard and reduced tracks I didn’t recognize, one of which rode an undulating bass line that everyone on the dance floor could feel in their stomachs. He ended up being my favorite act of the night.

Carl Craig. Photo by Andrea

Carl Craig took the helm at 3 am, and quite ostentatiously so: the first five minutes of his set were modern classical music that started out minimal and swelled into an absurd crescendo before the bass finally dropped. Personally, I appreciated the nod to his recent work with Moritz von Oswald, and in general I think Carl Craig can pull off this kind of showmanship, but I know some people found his intro pretentious and overblown. Either way, it set the stage for several hours of hard, monolithic techno, during which the visual display became absolutely eye-popping. Craig has a real knack for breakdowns — it seems he has some kind of trick where, a measure or so after the beat drops, a swarm of new sounds rush in out of nowhere. He pulled this one at least several times that night, and the crowd went completely nuts every time. The only track I recognized during his set was Len Faki’s new one, “BX 3,” which sounds like basically all the other songs Craig played that night. Sometime around 5 am, the mammoth energy level still hadn’t dropped, and I decided to call it an early night (by techno standards) and rest up for the weekend’s most anticipated event: a seven hour back-to-back DJ set by Ricardo Villalobos and Zip at Piknic 2.

As I headed to Parc Jean-Drapeau on Sunday afternoon, the weather was good but the forecast was grim: Rain was predicted to begin sometime around 4 pm and continue throughout the night, with temperatures dipping as low as 49 degrees Fahrenheit (about 9.5 degrees Celsius). Metropolis had been reserved in case of rain, and the weather forecast probably would have convinced some other festival promoter to move the event there, but Mutek decided to roll the dice and have the party outdoors, on a windy island, with a dance floor only a dozen yards from the gusty waterfront.

At 3 pm the Piknic was packed. Zip and Villalobos were getting into some very bouncy, very minimal tech-house, and the crowd was eating it up. This was the poppiest part of their set; later in the afternoon and evening, they would get into long, trippy techno and house records, but for now it was diva vocals galore. The two played off each other just as well as I’d heard: Zip favored moodier, more melodic tracks, while Villalobos focused on extra-funky house, always dropping the beat a moment sooner or later than expected. Villalobos always knew exactly how to build on Zip’s rhythms, so the really jacking moments always seemed to occur a minute or so after Villalobos took the helm.

Ricardo Villalobos and Zip. Photo by Matt Cheetham

The rain started right on cue around 4, but the crowd was unperturbed. More and more people showed up, and soon the dance floor was more crowded than I’d seen it at any Piknic. But after a while, the conditions got really miserable. People were visibly shivering, and some of the sound was getting lost in the cruel wet gusts repeatedly tearing through the crowd.

Everyone continued to be good sports, including the DJs: at one point, Villalobos put his palms up in a “what can you do?” gesture as one of his records seemed to sing “We’re OK… under the rain…” Nonetheless, I soon realized I wouldn’t make it for the whole afternoon like this, so I decided to take some drastic measures. I dropped $30 on an extra hooded sweatshirt, $7.50 on a double scotch, and left the dance floor to seek refuge under a canopy of leaves near a small pond. As the ripples increased on the pond before me, I wondered if (and hoped that) the party would be moved to Metropolis. I was admittedly in despair — it seemed ridiculous that something I’d been looking forward to for months would be spoiled by such avoidable circumstances. But the pond before me soon became glassy, and the sky went from gray to white. Encouraged by the whiskey and the muffled booms coming from beyond the treeline, I ventured back to the cold, wet dance floor.

Ricardo Villalobos and Zip. Photo by Matt Cheetham

By now the party was really packed, and the energy of the music was way up. Everyone was jacking in spite of the weather, including the girls serving drinks and making crepes at the bar. Pot smoke swirled through the crowd almost constantly, and I saw at least several sets of massive pupils. I suppose it makes sense that Quebecers would have a high tolerance for bad weather, but I was still amazed at the crowd’s determination to keep the party going. (A local told me later that a very popular edition of the Piknik Electronic occurs in the dead of winter, on a bed of snow, with everyone dancing in subzero temperatures.)

Mutek under sunlight. Photo by Katrin Schaefer

And sometime around 5:30, the tipping point finally came. Sunlight breached through the clouds during an extended break down, and a current passed through the audience. People pulled their hoods back and craned their necks around to see their newly amber-lit environment, while a spree of whistles peeled through the air. Someone threw a pair of panties onto the stage, and Villalobos laughed as he draped them around Zip’s neck. Still laughing, he sauntered into the orange light at the turn tables, carelessly twisted a knob, and dropped the first truly explosive beat of the day, to hail of ecstatic cheers. From then on, the front of the dance floor was so packed it almost felt like a punk show — dense mass of bodies all bouncing and bumping to the music.

The rain made a brief encore, but hardly anyone seemed to notice. DJ Sneak showed up at one point, doughy and gray-skinned as ever, smoking a blunt and busting out his Case Logic. But for whatever reason, Zip and Villalobos didn’t seem too keen on the idea of him getting on the decks, so Sneak just hung out while the three of them shared his blunt. By sunset, the weather had completely cleared, leaving a light purple sky as the backdrop for Zip and Villalobos’ final tracks, many of which were beatless and very trippy, and played out while the duo collapsed on a couch in the back of the DJ tent. For the final transitions, their heads would pop up from behind the turntables, covered in rascally grins, and finally Villalobos finished the set while completely hidden behind the decks — only his right hand was visible as it tweaked the mixer.

Modern Deep Left Quartet. Photo by Andrea

I swung by Nocturne 5 that night to catch sets by Stephen Beaupré and Akufen, neither of whom were terribly impressive, and left during Modern Deep Left Quartet (essentially Cobblestone Jazz plus The Mole.) Villalobos and Zip had been the climax to my weekend, and left me feeling extremely satisfied and extremely tuckered out. Some spotty weather aside, I couldn’t have been happier with the festival, and like all great techno events, this one left me happily buzzing for days to come.

[Wolf + Lamb Music]

For the past couple years or so, Gadi Mizrahi and Zev have been two of Brooklyn’s key house entrepreneurs. Under the moniker Wolf + Lamb they DJ parties, produce tracks, and release records by themselves and some close friends, all from a dingy art space in Williamsburg known as The Marcy Hotel. Their most recent release, the aptly titled “Brooklynn EP,” finds Wolf + Lamb poised for a breakthrough as a production team and label.

Each of the four tracks here exemplifies Wolf + Lamb’s balmy sound, but none so elegantly as “If U Had (Shaun Reeves Edit).” It’s got the sexy house-noir style of artists like Mikael Stavostrand or Kreon, but crafts an unusually rich narrative for a minimal house track. Through broken vocal snippets and one or two complete sentences, a sullen diva invites an unhappily taken man to imagine the two of them together. The beat shuffles along with guarded uncertainty, finally breaking into something funky as the song nears its end. Although this is the best track on the EP, “Idiosyncratic” is a close runner up. Crooked piano stabs and twisted sax snippets swirl around bass kick, lending a faint echo of New York No Wave to an otherwise familiar house formula (“Lady Scarface” by Lydia Lunch springs to mind). “Must Be Brooklynn” pairs a plodding rhythm with a hazy atmosphere, but to less charismatic effect than the other tracks on offer. A vocalist named Smirk guests on “Therapist,” providing the kind of tongue-in-cheek flavor one might expect from his name. Lyrics like “baby tell me your problems / let me your therapist tonight,” give the track a half-ironic swagger that might take some getting used to, but it’s hard to say no to those slick drums and hovering chords, and ultimately this one turns out to be a grower. Hot on the heels of Seth Troxler’s “Aphrika,” “Brooklynn EP” ought keep Wolf + Lamb’s buzz going well into the summer.