[Honest Jon's Records]

Though the spotlight has been on the Moritz von Oswald Trio in which he performs, Sasu Ripatti formed his own experimental jazz quartet a few years ago. Having spent most of their time together gigging, the group has just recorded their debut album at what seems like the perfect time. By all accounts Ripatti’s drumming is one of the most impressive aspects of Moritz von Oswald’s acclaimed trio, and his own musical history begins with jazz drumming. Early hints about the new project stated that he would be using a traditional drum kit (instead of the sculptures and other oddities used for the trio), and that he would be drafting in Lucio Capece on clarinet, Derek Shirley on double bass and Mika Vainio on electronics to fill out the quartet. Perhaps it was naive to believe this meant the quartet’s debut LP on Honest Jon’s would be based in (somewhat) traditional jazz. Ripatti has never made a record that resembles anything else out there, but given his background and the increased interest in jazz in the techno/house scene, maybe the Vladislav Delay Quartet would make a full-fledged jazz record.

Pressing play immediately dispels all of those assumptions. “Minus Degrees, Bare Feet, Tickles” is one of the more shocking things Ripatti has made, a grating wall of pure analog noise conjured by Vainio, who’s probably the best in the business at that sort of thing. The noise slowly sets into a certain rhythm while the rest of the quartet stake out their sonic territory, and as the grating static recedes, Ripatti builds tension with his percussion. “Santa Teresa” is the calm after the storm, reminding of 2009′s Tummaa in its timbres and stunted, deliberate rhythmic pacing. Vladislav Delay Quartet was recorded over a week in Belgrade, and some of these tracks, such as “Santa Teresa” or “Des Abends” certainly sound like they could be almost pure live takes. Closer, repeated listening, however, reveals just how much processing and production has gone into each sound.

One of the album’s defining traits is its unpredictability, oscillating between airy cuts filled with identifiable acoustic instruments and nearly suffocating noise experiments. After a suite of slow, mostly spacious tunes, “Hohtokivi” plunges the listener back into a noisy, tense world defined by tenacious and fuzzy plucked bass tones. Just when you think you have the quartet’s world mapped out, “Louhous” startles with its almost industrial rhythms; a kind of rhythmic propulsion not heard anywhere else on the album. While the influences of electronic music and jazz can certainly be heard, Vladislav Delay Quartet‘s most impressive aspect lies in its unconventional approach. More than anything else this year, this is music that I’ve truly never heard before, and yet after giving it the time it demands, connections are formed that would be impossible to detect given just a cursory glance. It is an album that not only confounds expectations, but more importantly opens up sonic territories few have explored before.

Untold, aka producer Jack Dunning, released his first record a little over a year ago on Hessle Audio (the fabulous “Kingdom”), and soon after started Hemlock Recordings, specializing in his own brand of experimental dupstep. Now he’s back for more on Ramadanman and Pangaea’s label with “I Can’t Stop This Feeling,” pushing his sound, and indeed the sound known as dubstep, further into uncharted waters. That Untold’s music sounds unlike most of his peers is a given, but on “I Can’t Stop This Feeling” he manages to surprise even those who’ve followed his releases, turning in two absolutely mad tunes bursting at the seams with creativity.

A side “I Can’t Stop This Feeling” starts simple enough with a kick drum and rising synth stabs, but after a flurry of hand claps the track explodes into an onslaught of percussion and constantly shifting bass lines. Halfway through the track simmers down to nothing but a punchy, tense woodblock pattern and descending bass line until all of that tension is suddenly released in another storm of snugly programmed drums. “Anaconda” is less tense and no less interesting, a menagerie of out-there animal noises, whistles and tribal drum sounds loosely held together by lunging syncopations. As listeners run into squeaks, pan flutes, digitized voices and the edge of a piano riff, some might wonder if they’ve gotten lost in Untold’s sample locker. It will take many listens to absorb everything going on in these two tracks, making it an extremely captivating listen, each time revealing more of itself. Untold seems intent on rewriting the rules of dubstep entirely, and with “I Can’t Stop This Feeling” he has crafted one of the most out there and enjoyable releases this year.

[Dérive Schallplatten]

One of my very favorite records of last year was the fifth transmission from Workshop, anchored by an incredible standalone Benjamin Brunn track and earning its keep with complementary stunners from Da Halz and Rising Sun (names then unknown to me). So I felt a little quickening of the heart as I scanned the tracklist of this, the first release from the new Diamonds & Pearls-distributed Dérive Schallplatten. This record, too, is headed by an outstanding Brunn track, and offers the mystique of a pair of new names in Achim Maerz and Christopher Rau. The comparisons more or less end there, but this Hamburg-centric platter is nevertheless an exciting, sonically eclectic collection.

The Brunn contribution isn’t strictly new — a live take of “Developers Developers” from 2005′s “Music Under Pin EP.” A vibrant update heaped with the sort of gooey textures that weakened knees on Songs From The Beehive, this shouldn’t be chucked aside as some completist-only rough cut. As with the original, the delay-augmented twists of Brunn’s Nord Modular synth tones are what stand out most. This time, though, Brunn takes us to places less ominous and droning, instead achieving a colorful, elastic dynamism that’s up there with the best of his work. On the flip, the metallic, crashing percussion of Maerz’s “Garish” builds to a pounding din, lays in a choppy, surging melody, and then piles on more jerky percussion. Heavy on rapid hi-hat and furious cymbals, its approach is maximal and its appeal primal. About four minutes in, though, the air clears and, like a sun break, a warm house groove emerges. It’s a relieving moment of levity, but the smacking percussion and anxious synth blurbs are gradually reintroduced for a necessarily sweaty finish. Christopher Rau follows with more of a back room mood, built around a dusty loop of melancholy keys. The rhythm track keeps it simple, but a haphazard jumble of further piano samples brings a raw, jazzy looseness to this commendable track. Count me in for Dérive 02!

[Workshop]

Workshop releases only a few records a year, emphasizing quality over quantity. Luckily for buyers this means each new Workshop record can be bought without hesitation, as there hasn’t been a dud in the bunch. They turn away from whatever may be popular at the time and shoot for longevity, opting for records that reveal themselves over time. After what was, for my money, the best record in the series (the sometimes ethereal, other times ghastly “Workshop 03″), Kassem Mosse steps up once again and give us “Workshop 08″, a contender for the label’s standout release.

The A side is the longest track so far in Workshop’s discography, yet also one of the more thrilling. The deep, muted synth line may rarely change, but the track refuses to stay static. Kassem fiddles with the intensity of the track throughout, building tension with ominous waves of sound, just on the brink of crashing. In fact, the whole thing has an out-to-sea quality to it, conjuring images of an impending storm on the horizon. B1 sounds great at both 33 and 45 (at 45 the sample of Dettmann’s “Lattice” is more apparent), but the proper speed is at a slow, hazy 33. A deep kick drum and dark background ambiance lends a sinister feeling to the track. Oddly timed rhythms and sharp, wobbly synth stabs speed up and down, giving the tune a confusing sense of time. B2 draws the record to a close on a more low key note (despite having what sounds like the fastest BPM). Its a real reflective tune; the soundtrack to the end of a long day or the start of a rainy one. The crisp percussion offsets the moody two note bass line and unstable sounds squirming in the background. Kassem creates many moods over the course of “Workshop 08″ with his distinct, analog sounds, crafting one of my favorite records of the year, to be sure.

[Mikrowave]

Manchester’s Kevin Gorman isn’t one of those artists who tries to conceal the mechanics and methods of his trade. Nor is he one to dictate how and under what conditions his music should be experienced. His four-part “Elements” series for his own Mikrowave label will be available both on tangible vinyl and portable mp3 formats. The main talking points on the series, though, concern Gorman’s decision to offer each track’s individual components. In other words, you can get an mp3 of just the pads for “Hoodwinked,” or the bare percussion from “Insomnia.” You can even get “Cyclic”‘s toms as an isolated track. Not to mention alternate mixes. The first two installments are already out, and some of the material is even offered at no cost.

Mikrowave’s website states that the series is “geared toward digital DJs and laptop performers,” but this publishing model has much to offer home listeners too. Encouraging modification, subtraction, and reinterpretation, Gorman’s music shrugs off the sanctity of creator-defined “finished products.” Even a casual earbuds-in-cubicle consumer could feasibly figure out how to reassemble a favorite track sans hand claps, if desired. Beyond user customization, though, Gorman won’t even commit to his own setting preferences. Discussing this installment’s “Cyclic,” he has the audacity to tell buyers of the pad-laden record, “my favourite mixes of this track are the ones without the pads.” Part second-guess, part chef’s-recommendation, this underscores the series’ emphasis not on pressed, perfected tracks, but possibilities. All that might sound like a nice way to gloss over a wishy-washy resistance to finalizing an artistic vision, but a listen to Gorman’s textured, fluid, and quite singular mix for mnml ssgs should put to rest such concerns.

Still, does “Elements” play once you’ve cleared away all the expansion pack rigmarole? Urgent, fierce techno, I believe it does. The opening remix of Zuni’s “Hoodwinked” is metronomic, thumping, and properly stunning. Simplicity is key here and on all the tracks. Despite all the pieces and patterns sold separately, the mixed “Hoodwinked” sounds pretty spare. Structured around a basic series of rises, one effect after another slowly increases in boldness and intensity, but without ramping up the aggression. The shimmering “Cyclic,” Gorman explains, was a product of noodling about with “pitching the bass drum up and down,” paired with some sonic inspiration from Sleeparchive. In the version pressed to vinyl, the experiment comes through as appropriately dizzy, even more so with the spinning pad tool. “Insomnia” rounds out the set with a pummeling parade of drums, a little textural twitter, smacking rimshots, and a springy bass effect, the combined effect like an alarm announcing peak time. Mark Broom’s a helpful point of reference here, where “Hoodwinked” ran closer to something like Marcel Dettmann. Both names already appear in the Mikrowave catalog, as does Tadeo, another apt comparison. Not only does “Elements Part 1″ stand up on its own legs in the plug-and-play music arena, I’d argue that these tracks join the ranks of Norman Nodge and Sandwell District’s N/A remixes on the shortlist for the most effective techno the year has yet seen.

Rotterdam’s Joris Voorn has been spinning and producing house and techno for over ten years now, with no shortage of accolades along the way. His debut EP, “Muted Trax pt. 1,” was tipped by Carl Craig and Laurent Garnier, and By 2004′s “Lost Memories pt. 2,” the fervor around Voorn had become virtually unavoidable. After founding the Green label the following year, Voorn landed a gig mixing the fourth CD in the Fuse series. Taking the Ableton Live brochure to task, he blended, layered, and combined forty-odd tracks for the mix. We were impressed, but Voorn figured he could do one better, which brings us to 2009′s hundred-track Balance mix. Easily one of the most discussed dance-music releases of the past year, Little White Earbuds had plenty of questions and Mr. Voorn was gracious enough to explain how one undertakes a project as ominous and daunting as Balance 14. (Interview by Chris Burkhalter)

You’ve talked about Balance 14 – and certainly a lot of other people are talking about it too – in terms of pushing technical and musical boundaries for yourself. Was the project this ambitious at the outset? Or, at a certain point in the process of mixing, did you decide to see how far you could stretch things?

Joris Voorn: It wasn’t really planned to go as far as I did. I started off in a more conventional way, mixing the beginning of one track with the end of another, but I wasn’t satisfied with the result I was getting, so I started getting more into editing the tracks. Finally I used samples of tracks and loops to fill in the gaps and create my own tracks out in between.

Listening to the CDs, it’s blindingly clear that you’ve really toiled over the editing. Did you set out to mix of a set of particular songs? Or was it a question of choosing elements for an indivisible whole?

The approach of mixing came along while I was working. I found so much fun in editing and combining tracks and different elements that I pushed boundary after boundary, combining genres and different bpm’s into something new instead of just using a single track each time.

One thing people are talking a lot about is the 102 songs spread over two discs. How did EQ react when you proposed a tracklist of such exhaustive length?

It wasn’t done in one go, I gave them the tracks I was using along the way, so in the end it came up to that many. But, the 102 are the ones that I featured in the final mix only, so they don’t include the parts and tracks that I decided not to use. So I think they must have worked on a few more tracks for licensing than this. EQ was fine though, they are very open for whatever the artist is doing, and they fully trusted me!

Given the sheer quantity of tracks involved, there were surely some licensing hitches. Were there any portions of the mix that had to be scrapped or overhauled as a result of such problems?

I believe I gave them a tracklist based on my first attempts to do the mixes, but then I’d change the whole thing again using lots of different tracks. There were no parts I had to scrap because of licensing issues. The guys from EQ are very professional and were able to get everything I wanted. The Aloof’s guitar sample was difficult though, as the record label was a major and they were probably too lazy to deal with it, but in the end we did it anyway.

This mix brought on a deafening volume of discussion before it was even available to hear. Did you expect such a level of discussion just based on the tracklist?

I didn’t count the tracks as I was working on the CD, it only occurred to me when I read the label’s press release. It was a natural process for me to do the mixes, but it’s funny how people reacted, as if I was trying to break the Guinness book of records, while I was just trying to create a nice piece of music.

Photo by Krijn Van Noordwijk

Flying Lotus, Carl Craig, Cobblestone Jazz, Len Faki, Goldie, Robert Babicz, Tigerskin, Quiet Village… You’ve talked before about finding complementary melodies and compatible grooves, but where does this start? I can imagine the pool of potential material becoming completely unwieldy. How did you go about narrowing the scope?

I ran through my music library, trying to remember what parts I could use, or by being surprised with what I found in there, then making a few different playlists based on how I would use the songs and tracks. I knew there were some albums with interesting parts, like The Aloof’s guitar intro which I used. They were long playlists, and I’d randomly skip through them to find matching elements and parts.

Could you talk a little about how you combined these disparate songs? How do you “break down” the tracks to layer them? How long does this process take?

It’s like having the mix playing in Ableton, and skipping through my iTunes playlists in search of a matching sound or track. I didn’t break down all the tracks, but some yes. If something would match I’d drag it into the Ableton file and try to make it fit, maybe adjusting speed or pitch, loop it or not loop it. Something like that.

How have you incorporated these technical and stylistic practices into your live sets?

As a DJ I play with a laptop as well these days, and I can skip through tracks in real-time on stage, combine different elements, loops, samples, a cappella’s and tracks with each other. So that’s how close it gets to the studio editing, only in a more simple way as it’s all done live on the spot.

Now that you’re through the learning process, do you see yourself incorporating elements from other contemporary favorites into your own tracks any time in the future?

Ha… That’s a delicate question. As sampling is a big part of electronic music, everybody is taking parts of everybody, but mostly unrecognizable, and crossing genres to avoid originality issues. But no, I think making music should be about creating something by yourself, it’s done with a different intention than a so called “DJ-mix.”

Taken as a whole, Balance plays like a who’s-who, or a “this is who we are” proclamation. The trade-off is that it looks more like an iTunes folder than a short stack of records sitting on top of your stereo. What would we hear if we hung out for an afternoon at your place?

Is that a question of what I’d listen to myself? I just got Mocky’s new album from iTunes, great stuff, very DIY, very lively and organic with lots of details and sweet melodies. I’m very much into these kinds of sounds nowadays, especially in this digital age where everything can easily sound very plastic and clean if music comes just from a computer. I also really enjoy PJ Harvey’s new album, and then there’s an artist called Andrew Bird who I really like. All of these are fragile albums; no power sounds, but made with an ear for detail and lots of soul!

In an interview with Laptop Rockers, you mused that “it’s easier to work on a remix for an average track… so you don’t feel the pressure to outperform the original.” Going back in time a bit, how was it approaching a canonized classic like Kevin Saunderson’s “Bassline” for your “07 Remix”?

That was an exception to the above rule, it was quite easy, as the parts were nice and simple and easy to play around with, and also old enough to create something new and contemporary with. The structure was done very quickly, and the mixing stage was also pretty easy; so overall not too much sweat to create the “Bassline” remix

[Pomelo]

With a discography dating back to 1996, Alex Cortex already has several tremendous records to his name on Out To Lunch, Ann Aimee, and Platzhirsch Schallplatten. Though probably a favorite of several of your own favorite artists, this discretely prolific Heidelberg resident’s name isn’t one that gets bandied about much. His latest, lane-shifting EP for Pomelo probably won’t change that, but that’s no reason for you not to get familiar.

The ten-minute a-side, taken from a live performance at one of Cologne’s regular Platzhirsch showcases, is hard-line, abrasive techno. No concessions to melody here, the only distractions from the pounding percussion are a layer of unnerving beeps that sound like nothing so much as a neglected car alarm. It’s impressive in its single-mindedness, but I confess to being much more inclined toward the record’s less aggro B side. The bass line worming through “Doxa” is all sultry funk. The “Safety Dance” blips transmitted throughout the track give it a mock-futuristic sheen, but the tense, slo-mo groove creates a sleazy humidity that, at least to my ears, summons the Digital Underground’s “Freaks of the Industry.” This set’s finest track, though, takes yet another direction, this time turning to the deep, melodic, and atmospheric. Classic Detroit, “Deon” tips its hat to Skynet-era Infiniti, but its strongest similarities are to Drexciya (along the line’s of 1996′s “You Don’t Know”). In the past, Cortex has dismissed the term “old school” as a loaded name for something quite simple: good music. The distinction applies here. If I’ve resorted to comparisons to canonized classics, it’s just because there’s nobody else making moody electro of this caliber these days.

[Kontra-Musik]

Delivering on the promise of a heavily tipped 12″ for Omar-S’ FXHE label, Jason Fine’s 2008 double-pack for Kontra-Musik, Our Music Music Is A Secret Order, was a remarkably confident collection of understated, soulful techno with vintage Detroit flavor. Owing perhaps to the secrecy of its order, Our Music wasn’t much discussed, but perhaps these reinterpretations from a pair of rising stars will help that.

Of the two remixes, Anton Zap’s is the greater departure from its source. In its original form, “Half” was a moonlit soundscape of subdued, solitary deepness. In the hands of Moscow’s most notable Jus-Ed protégé, it becomes something significantly sunnier. Fine’s track is left more or less intact, it’s just that Zap stacks a bright, shiny tech-house track on top of it. Fine’s laid back pace is filled in with peppier percussion (hi-hats even), funky bass, and dense, wobbly melodies. The warmth of Fine’s version is retained, but a bubbly synth hook overturns the original’s contemplative qualities. This track has been stuck in my head for a good two weeks now, and is a nice warm-up for Zap’s excellent upcoming record for Uzuri.

In addition to sharing geographic and label affiliations, Luke Hess seems a kindred spirit of Fine’s in many ways. His remix of “Midwest N” is a less drastic deviation, though it too lights a fire under the eerie, head-nodding original. Hess doesn’t push the track out of its deep techno environs, doesn’t try to change its outlook on life, but he does ask that it dress for the club. Fleshed out with uptempo percussion and dub flourishes, it’s a far more propulsive take on the Midwest. The intersection of Hess’ vigor and moodiness of Fine’s track proves quite natural, and I wouldn’t be much surprised if their paths crossed again.

Caravan’s dependable Julian Smith follows last year’s dark, bumpy “Say Again” with a second package for Perspectiv. Don’t let the title’s “Tool” cool your interest, though. While this may well be a brilliant record for brokering transitions in your next set, “My Left Tool” is also an autonomous pleasure and evocative journey of a record in itself. Sexy and hypnotic, October’s noirish, dubstep-flecked techno is a seamless pairing of steam-engine mechanics and animal growl. Dark, warm, and insular, the track nevertheless marches at a restless pace through an impressive range of territory over its twelve minutes. Probably the best testament to this track’s potency, though, is that October more than holds his own against his ferocious remixer.

I refer, of course, to Tobias Freund who, it must be said, has really let the dogs out these past six months. Treating us with a slew of remixes, he’s reinterpreted tracks from Nhar (Mobilee), Alex Under (Apnea), Franco Cinelli (Traut Muzik), D’Julz (Circus Company), Los Updates (Cadenza), and Russ Gabriel (Pariter). It’s a sturdy list, but his rework of “My Left Tool” is surely a contender for the best of this bunch. A complete overhaul of October’s original, riddled with ear-splitting power electronics bursts and acid squelches, this is more of an adrenaline rush. It’s similar to his own “Beat Study” tracks from last year, but this one’s a genuine chase-scene of a track. The pressure builds and builds, but release comes intermittently and gloriously with the ol’ train-speeding-past gimmick, channeling Kraftwerk by way of “Deer in the Headlights.” Just as he did on last year’s “Balance,” Tobias. calibrates this remix for raw, jagged snarl, crafting an undeniable banger.

[Hyperdub]

Probably the second-most-discussed thing about Hyperdub is Kode9′s versatility. If you evaluated this solely on the basis of his releases for the aforementioned label, it wouldn’t seem abundantly clear. That is, until December’s LD-team-up, “Bad/2 Bad,” a housed-up, UK garage workout that didn’t sound one thing like the slow-burning future dub of his Space Ape collaborations. But then, almost nothing from Hyperdub’s 2008 reprised the label’s lauded past.

In a “Hyperdub Showcase” on Benji B’s BBC radio show last month, the man behind it all, Mr. Steve Goodman, cited Flying Lotus as one catalyst for the latest turns of the Hyperdub screw. Goodman tips his hat to Lotus for sparking a taste for “smeared pitch-bent synth lines” like the ones that course through Samiyam’s “Return” and, notably, the latest Kode9 release. Well on the “hyper” end of the label’s output, “Black Sun” is as bright and in your face as 2006′s “Sine of the Dub” was hunkered down and muttering in an alley. Weird, crunching body music, this is much bigger than “Bad/2 Bad.” Neat hi-hats and forceful compound-fracture beats handle the irrepressible rhythm while burbling keyboards dance over an inebriated, pitch-shifted drone that secures a broken weirdness for the track. “2 Far Gone” almost versions “Black Sun,” this time overlaying the paranoia and dread typically associated with the Kode9 brand on a similar pairing of punchy beats and smeared pads. A chanted vocal clip, “It’s too far gone / It’s too much yet…,” sounds at once like one of Space Ape’s seething reprimands and the ecstatic warning cries of Adonis’ “No Way Back.” Beyond the voice and lyric likenesses, those reference points prove useful in describing the record in general — dark and haunting, but also infectious and energizing.