[Ostgut Ton]

Aside from the occasional reissue campaign, dance music artists are not known for spending much time with their back catalogs. Whether you chalk this up a mercurial, fashion-conscious culture or most producers’ tendency to release and move on, many artists tend to identify with their past only as part of their CV (or legacy in the case of careerists). Ever the iconoclast, Luke Slater admitted to bucking that trend when writing the fifth Planetary Assault Systems album. “I looked back to The Drone Sector for inspiration,” he told Richard Brophy, continuing, “I love that LP and I feel that it gets overlooked… it almost felt as if I hadn’t written it.” Given the fathomless depths of his oeuvre under a dozen aliases it’s little surprise Slater feels somewhat detached from the 1997 album. But it’s quite striking to think the second PAS LP was a touchstone for the newest more than a decade later. This goes a long way in explaining why The Messenger finds Planetary Assault Systems pulling back on the throttle after the all-out blitzkrieg that was 2009′s Temporary Suspension.

Despite its stated reference point, The Messenger has just as much in common with all previous PAS albums except Temporary Suspension, mixing beatless experiments and mid-tempo techno pieces with more rigorous cuts. But even by those standards it’s a measured, heady record — more akin to a psychological thriller than an explosive sci-fi blockbuster. Its ominous atmosphere is one notable holdover from Temporary Suspension, fomenting pits of dread in listeners’ stomachs with an assortment of unearthly drones and queasy chord sequences while Slater’s usually ferocious drums play supporting roles. After the pleasant tone bath of “Railer (Further Exploration),” The Messenger reveals its true colors on “Beauty In the Fear,” a jaw-clenching crawl through a cavernous passage lined with snarling synthetic creatures. “Human Like Us” is the direct descendant of The Drone Sector‘s “Dungeon,” its familiar, sickly sweet bell patterns bearing light percussive touches as an abused guitar chord fumbles below. Slater intensifies this approach on “Bell Blocker,” which sounds like a distant, coal-fired locomotive warning those ahead with the clang of cowbells and high pitched whines.

An album this intent on unsettling its audience would be a tough sell if not for its largely assiduous sequencing. From its humble opening The Messenger gets more menacing both in tone and the physicality of its percussion with almost every track — the drifting “Movement 12″ being the notable exception. But even when it’s churning bones into butter on “Call From The East” or cranking out eerie electric piano progressions on “Kray Squid,” there’s a modicum of restraint to keep you guessing when the metaphorical hammer will fall. That moment finally arrives on the ninth track, “Rip The Cut,” unleashing all the pent-up tension with torrents of overdriven, syncopated drum triplets. Unfortunately the album loses steam and appeal when it doesn’t maintain that intensity in the last three tracks. There’s a sense the sub-aquatic squelch of “Motif” and paint-PAS-by-numbers “Cold Bolster” would’ve felt less lackluster placed earlier in the order. That said, the machine funk of “Black Tea” is an effective closer, thrumming with nervous energy before disintegrating in squalls of white noise.

The inherent risk of Slater reconnecting with his earlier releases to create new work is that listeners can justifiably claim The Messenger is merely a lateral move for Planetary Assault Systems. Yet that doesn’t make his choice to scale back the aggression and require more careful listening any less brave, knowing that doing so could alienate fans who only just cottoned on with Temporary Suspension. It also can’t take away from the richness of Slater’s sound design, which is meticulous enough to fully sell his haunting vision without resorting to brutality and far more intensely detailed than any PAS material before it. To this end his choice of inspiration proves fruitful, allowing Slater to refine his well established sound while keeping his fans checking behind their curtains for lurkers. Message received.

[Mote-Evolver]

Marcel Fengler’s original “Thwack” is one of the most mercurially monstrous things the German producer has yet unleashed, an utterly distinctive flurry of flashbang handclaps and white-hot snares. Released last year on Luke Slater’s Mote-Evolver label, it’s no surprise that the track would be cherry-picked for the remix EP treatment, and its rather late arrival is well timed with the looming release of Fengler’s Berghain 05 mix CD. But timing politics regardless, Thwack Remixes easily stands on its own two feet.

First up is fellow Berghain associate Norman Nodge, who provides the EP’s highlight with a sped-up rework that gently tweaks rather than demolishes, putting the emphasis on a jacking rimshot progression that sends it leaping into the air every few bars. But like Nodge’s recent The Happenstance EP, there are other ideas here afoot than just austere techno, and the track’s extended breakdown leads it into a heady froth of simmering percussion, constantly on the verge of ignition until a massive sub-bass line fissures through the bottom and takes the track on a massive upheaval. It’s the kind of queasily powerful move that feels like it’s indiscriminately blasting right through whatever structure was left, and the fact that Nodge’s “Thwack” rework manages to somehow rebuild itself after such a low-frequency assault is proof to his expert handling of hazardous techno materials.

While Nodge’s might stand head-and-shoulders above because of its cunningly controlled chaos, the other contributions hold their own. Label head Luke Slater contributes two remixes, an electro-infused arpeggiated techno workout as Planetary Assault Systems — which sounds like his recent Temporary Suspension album with the movement confined to microscopic distances. His turn as L.B. Dub Corp comes as a digital bonus and values space and inaudible low frequencies over crashing clangor, a nice breather after three slabs of unforgiving techno. That leaves us with ambient techno producer Mike Parker, who chooses a more direct route than some of his recent material, melting “Thwack”‘s elements down to thick liquid and gleefully watching them slosh and squelch in a punishingly repetitive pattern. Befitting of the source material, it’s more aggressive than tracks like “Subterranean Liquid,” but different enough from the others to nicely round off a satisfying package of remixes. Like any EP with four remixes of the same track, your mileage may vary, but safe to say there’s at least one here for anyone who might consider themselves a techno head in 2011.

Luke Slater is, as they say, a man who needs no introduction. A stalwart of the international electronic scene for almost 20 years, much of contemporary techno owes Slater a debt of gratitude. Without his mid-90′s releases as Planetary Assault System, it’s hard to imagine the output of labels such as Sandwell District, Ostgut Ton or Do Not Resist The Beat! sounding quite the same. His shadow looms large over Toby Frith’s recent list of 20 classic UK techno records for FACT magazine, and his new album under the PAS moniker Temporary Suspension is a blistering tour de force; so it’s an apt time to ask Slater a few questions about his new album, his renewed love for DJing, and his future ventures into the world of ballet.

Luke, you said in an interview in 2001 that you were retiring the Planetary Assault System: “I haven’t really got the time or the feeling I used to have to do Planetary and I don’t wanna keep on doing it just because I can sell a few records or whatever… You suddenly realise that things have changed and you have just moved on.” You revived it in 2006 with “Deep Heet” on your own Mote-Evolver label. Why did you resurrect it, given your earlier comments?

Luke Slater: The word “never” has always been something [that] I know as soon as I utter it I will probably come back to bite me, but essentially I did retire Planetary. I really needed to let it go for a while so it could come back for the right reasons. The reasons being the same reasons I adopted when I first started Planetary: the music.

Tell us a little bit about the new album Temporary Suspension. When and where was it produced, and what were some of the influences behind it?

I started work on Temporary Suspension around September 2008 at Spacestation 0 [Luke's studio]. I gave myself one rule that really never applied to past Planetary music and that was I had to road test every track before it could be considered worthy for the album — that’s to say to see how audiences reacted to it beforehand. Some tracks didn’t cut it so they didn’t make it, some did. I chose the single based on two tracks that no matter where I played them seemed to make the crowd go mad, that being “Temporary Suspension” and “Mark Me.”

It was released on Ostgut Ton, the label associated with Berlin’s infamous Berghain and Panorama Bar club. How did this hook-up come about? Maybe you could talk a bit about your experiences of the club? What other clubs around the world have you enjoyed playing in?

Yes, it has become infamous hasn’t it? Well I have quite a history with Berghain, going back to when they were called Ostgut, in a different venue in Berlin. I just love those guys, the club, the sound, the freedom. It’s a bit of a second home for me in DJing terms and music. A very creative atmosphere. Very creative people. There’s a few clubs around the world I do on some kind of regular basis. Berghain, Nitsa [in] Barcelona, Ageha in Tokyo, Japan, Balance in London, to name a few. I’m actually enjoying DJing more now than ever. I think the superstar thing has subsided since the 90′s and clubbers are much more music orientated now than before. That’s a good thing. The groove is back.

You also contributed a track under your 7th Plain alias to their Shut Up And Dance! Updated compilation, recorded for a contemporary dance performance at Berghain. What is your interest in music outside the nightclub, and do you have plans to move further in this direction?

I originally did a piece of music under my old name 7th Plain called “Symphony For The Surrealists.” This was for a very unusual and interesting collaboration between Berghain and the Staatsballett Berlin. Ballet to electronic music. I happened to be working on some 7th Plain stuff at the time so I put it together for them. Afterwards doing a Planetary album seemed a natural idea, I was feeling it, so we did it. Now the back catalog of 7th Plain material is being reworked for another production by the Staatsballett including new 7th Plain tracks and unreleased material. It’s a good home for the 7th Plain. The music has found its purpose. Very exciting. Planetary-wise we have started the live shows and kicked off at Berghain on the 20th June album release party, a night I’m still buzzing from quite frankly. Excellent.

The Ostgut Ton “family” of producers such as Marcel Dettmann, Len Faki, Ben Klock etc are explicitly influenced by your work as Planetary Assault Systems in the 1990′s. What do you think of their music, and in turn, which current producers are you excited or inspired by?

Oh, I love what they are doing, some great releases. I’m playing their tracks, they’re playing mine, that’s what it’s all about — keeps everything alive. Keeps me inspired. It’s great they are influenced by what I was doing with Planetary, but I think more importantly for me is that we are writing music now, playing each others music in long sets, growing the invention and vibe. Creativity gets me every time. I love it.

In your almost twenty years producing electronic music, you’ve released records under a wide number of monikers (e.g. PAS, Translucent, 7th Plain, Morganistic, etc), and in a wide number of styles. Which project or release are you most proud of, and which one is most personal to you?

You know, my reasons for different names in the beginning was really born out of the problem where I was writing so much music, and different labels were taking different tracks. That was about 1993 I guess, later on this became a problem. Planetary kind of took on a life of its own and my own name took on another life, so essentially by the end of the 90′s I had two personalities. Maybe that’s a Gemini thing, I don’t know. I don’t plan to revive Morganistic, Translucent… but hey, that’s another “never” eh! I think Luke and Planetary are the closest they have ever been. I’m proud of all my little children.

In particular, your albums under your own name on Novamute in the early 2000s showed you to be traveling in a more explicitly “pop” direction. You seem to have stepped away from that period a bit now, can you talk about your experience of moving from being an underground techno guy towards more mainstream acclaim? What made you shift back to producing more stripped down stuff like the Temporary Suspension?

I’m really pleased with the Novamute albums, Freek Funk in particular for its diversity. One thing I was really adamant about and always have been is that Planetary should never be sold as something its not. It’s not pop music, it’s underground club music from the world I inhabit as a DJ and my mindset that goes with it. When Novamute came about back then I didn’t want to move Planetary over to it for that reason. I thought Novamute was a good label to push something more diverse that didn’t have to be club based, and allowed for more of a story in music rather than club tracks, but carrying over to people the same production values that I like. This proved successful.

However, the nature of success with a large label, especially back then when there were large independent labels, meant that the pressure was on. By the end of it, the pressure I was under was becoming very similar to something I always tried to avoid, where the music becomes third place to the vessel to get it out there. I grew uncomfortable with that after Wireless. Alright On Top was an electronic pop experiment. I didn’t enjoy that world, but I’m glad I checked it out. I always think you don’t really know how to drive your car until you’ve taken it to the brink of crashing on a corner. Then you know your car. And I apologize for using a car comparison! Then I waited until Planetary came knocking on my door again, demanding some kind of action, first in the form of two releases on my own label Mote-Evolver. This was an important test for me, to see how people liked Planetary, released low-key and un-promoted. Back to the roots, so to speak.

You talked a few years back about using four turntables when DJing as it pushed the boundaries of what could be achieved. Have you embraced technology in the form of Ableton, Serato etc. when you spin, or do you still use vinyl?

We use [Ableton] Live for our “live” shows amongst other equipment. I’’m also using Vestax VCM-600′s for the live show; these are great pieces of kit, very hands-on. DJing wise, I use vinyl and self burnt CDs. I don’t use computers for DJing. I like action not standing behind a laptop, selecting a track. I spit venom to anyone thinking of trying to plug the decks into an audio interface while I’m playing It ain’t gonna happen.

What does this year hold for Luke Slater? What are your plans both in terms of your label, taking PAS on tour and your next production project?

Very busy. Checking and playing new music. The Planetary live shows, the ballet 7th Plain production, DJing, and new releases on Mote-Evolver in the autumn. Remixes. Then working on a new Planetary album. No rest. Life is short.

[Ostgut Ton]

A few years back, you couldn’t go to a club without seeing a “Rave Strikes Back” sticker on a DJ’s record box. An initiative set up by Freude-am-Tanzen, the idea was to revolt against the ahistorical “mnml” of the time and bring back “rough, unpolished techno,” in the words of its creators. On the website, they invited a number of Germany’s pre-eminent DJs (Robert Johnson’s Ata, Michael Mayer, DJ Koze) to chart their favorite rave anthems. Superficially, the planned revival appeared to have little tangible effect, save the unconnected splutterings of a D.O.A. scene in the less salubrious parts of south-east London (thanks, Klaxons). But in the last eighteen months or so, harder techno seems to have come once more back in vogue. The Birmingham scene centered around British Murder Boys and Surgeon has returned with new vigor in the form of Sandwell District; Levon Vincent’s rough and ready style is the toast of DJs everywhere; and of course Marcel Dettmann and company have been keeping the muscle-marys at Berghain more than happy by spinning classic floor-shakers such as “Der Klang Der Familie” and “Model 8″ at every opportunity.

It’s perfect timing, then, for Luke Slater to return under his none-more-raving Planetary Assault Systems guise to release the fiercest techno record you’re likely to hear all year. The “Planetary Funk” series released on Peacefrog from 1993-1999 is some of the best stuff of that era or any other, and still sound thrillingly contemporary today. As Slater makes apparent in his forthcoming LWE interview, PAS tracks are aimed squarely at the dance floor, and all of the tracks on Temporary Suspension were extensively road-tested and battle-hardened before making the final cut. It shows, as every track, played at the right time (and at the right volume), will no doubt elicit the kind of responses early rave anthems must have received from spangled punters. Lead off track “Open Up” is relatively restrained, with a submerged kick drum and a murky fog of static, but from that point on there is hardly time to draw breath.

Mixed live by Slater, Temporary Suspension seems to speed by faster than a Japanese bullet train on first listen, but on closer inspection the subtleties and attention to detail of each track become apparent. To quote a description of an early Ostgut release, “noise is the rave signal” here, but there is also the clear craftmanship you would expect from such an experienced operator. “Hold It” is brutal, clipped funk born out of nothing more than a truncated acid squiggle, while “Whoodoo” batters “game over” bleeps into submission. “Enter Action” and “X Speaks To X” are the most explicitly “rave,” both punishingly hard without falling into the trap of hollow bombast.

It’s a shame the sequencing of the album lets it down a little. Building sharply to album highlight “X Speaks To X” (a 21st century “Mentasm”?!), it then drops off towards the end. Title track and lead single “Temporary Suspension” is a powerful tension-builder in the right hands, but here it leads into the most subdued moment, the almost wistful “Gateway To Minia.” The tail doesn’t wag so much as lash out, however, with the closer “Sticker Man,” a harsh and industrial reminder that if rave does strike back, then Planetary Assault Systems will lead the offensive.