[Prime Numbers]

Recently I’ve been thinking a bit about a strand of popular music I’m labeling (in the absence of the talents of serial genre christeners and esoteric nomenclature know-it-alls Simon Reynolds or David Keenan) “British whimsy.” I’m talking here about Ivor Cutler, Position Normal, Basil Kirchin, Matthew Herbert, the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and Robert Wyatt. Not to be confused with the cloying twee of C86 bands or Belle & Sebastian, it’s a playful, occasionally dark, melancholic or satirical art, in the surreal tradition of Hilaire Belloc or Lewis Carroll. To this list I would add Gavin Sutherland’s work as Fudge Fingas, and his debut album Now About How (which even sounds like the sort of slogan that might grace one of Cutler’s famous badges) will not have me reassessing my mental filing system.

Still, Mr Fingas’ influences are far from British. The classic U.S. jazzy house sounds of Glenn Underground, Blaze and Boo Williams are most prominent, with the actual jazz of Sun Ra definitely also perceptible. Jazzy is of course often accompanied by its pejorative “noodly,” and there are moments on Now About How that may test patience. For example, the languorous closer “It’s The Music” means the album shuffles out when it should sashay. For the most part though, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable ramble through Sutherland’s sprawling imagination. The previously released “It’s About Time” and “Me&U” are obvious highlights, matching tracky house to Sutherland’s excellent songwriting. “SOYB” (“shake out your body” pitch-shifted to an ever-shifting thump of pops, clicks and whirrs), “Polo” and the Bitches Brew pastiche “Mind Swamp” are cosmic explorations that sound like little else out there.

Of course, the aforementioned Herbert was the pioneer in terms of marrying the U.S. deep house sound to British humor and sensibilities, although thankfully Sutherland shows no signs of disappearing down the polemical cul-de-sac that his predecessor has. “Silent Statues” is the most Herbert-esque, with Sutherland putting his vocals through a range of effects to idiosyncratically emulate the smoky croon of Dani Siciliano as a clunky-in-the-best-possible-way beat keeps erratic time.

If there is a criticism of Now About How, it is that it can be a bit too meandering. There’s nothing here that matches the directness or club-thump of the forthcoming Firecracker 10″ “What Works,” and the album occasionally ambles; “The Tree” and ironically, “S1ngularity” are as close to paint-by-numbers Fudge Fingas as the oddball producer is likely to get. Nonetheless, Now About How is an engaging curiosity that rewards close listening (although it should demand it more often); a worthy entry in my imaginary canon of British whimsy.

[Planet E]

I feel about LCD Soundsystem’s “Throw” the same way I feel about the Hollywood remake of superb Swedish creepfest Let The Right One In (retitled Let Me In for the Stateside version). Sure it’s perfectly adequate, but why bother? If you’re reading this site, you already know how amazing the Paperclip People original (included here) is, and I can’t objectively say that the LCD Soundsystem cover is bad. It’s easy to see why James Murphy and his merry men have used the Carl Craig classic as a live staple for the last few years. The punk-funk bass line, ten years after (or actually also before) the fact, the propulsive, motorik groove and the yowls of “I wanna feel” are all tropes present somewhere in the LCD DNA. But the cover is so perfunctory, so faithful, it almost has me thinking it’s some kind of concept a la Gus Van Sant’s frame-by-frame remake of Psycho.

Maybe the most disappointing aspect of this project is that it follows a recent fashion for Pitchfork faves tackling vintage dance, but without any of the bare modicum of reinvention that similar efforts display. The Whitest Boy Alive frequently cover pop-dance classics (“You Don’t Know Me”, “Show Me Love”, “Music Sounds Better With You”) as encores to their live show. Erlend Øye’s plaintive voice often adds a tenderness absent from the more bangin’ originals, but they (or their record company) have so far sensibly resisted the urge to release these. Similarly, Detroit’s the Dirtbombs are imminently releasing an album’s worth of techno classics reinterpreted in their inimitable garage-rocking style. If the video for lead single “Sharevari” is anything to go by, it should be good fun at the very least. I wish I could say the same about this. Damned by its own competency, and tellingly, originally released as an iTunes bonus track, Planet E really shouldn’t have bothered pressing this “Throw”-away to wax.

[Live At Robert Johnson]

While last year’s middling full-length Care didn’t quite have the man once dubbed “the coolest m.f. in minimal house” showing up Oslo, Eklo and all those other minimal house m.f.s biting his style, another LoSoul release in 2009 was definitely better than a Bitshit. Pardon my potty mouth, but Peter Kremeier’s For Disco Only edit of the B-52s “Love Shack” was neat work with the scalpel, doing everything a good nip’n'tuck should and definitely embarrassing all those other re-edit m.f.ers hiding behind pressings of dubious origin (you know who you are). Kremeier’s remix of the Neue Deutsche Welle band Ideal is similarly steady work from a skilled plastic surgeon who has moonlighted more often than you might think from his day-job as purveyor of the finest percussive tracky mixing fodder. Think of his “Say Goodbye” or “International Snootleg” rather than “Open Door.” It seems that Kreimeir has a natural affinity for Teutonic post-punk, finding the funk in otherwise decidely unfunky places — check his thrilling remix of UnknownmiX a couple of summers back for reference. A natural fit, too, for Playhouse sub-label Robert Johnson. The back sleeve of Christiane F’s seriously whacked-out NDW anthem “Wunderbar” declared it to be a hit at the Frankfurt-am-Main club, something that will come as a surprise to any overly-adventurous DJ who has successfully cleared a conservative dance floor with it.

“Schöne Frau Mit Geld” carries no risk of that. Weird, but not that weird, it again demonstrates LoSoul’s way with a groove, be it reduced house or full-fat disco. Ideal’s 1982 original (not included) was something of an ugly duckling, and while LoSoul’s judicious editing hardly turns it into a swan, it’s certainly a more graceful beast. Opening with a steady bongo-led bass-drum that you’ve heard on a thousand sub-Cadenza records, your jaded sense of deja vu is rudely and delightfully interrupted by a constantly EQ-ed highlife guitar line, a whole conga line of marimbas, and a giggling, echt Deutsch sing-song voice informing you that the protagonist wants nothing more in this world than a beautiful, rich woman. A laudable desire, but if fruity German vocals aren’t your thing, or your copy is so warped that the vocal side is unplayable (thanks Phonica!) then you can enjoy the slightly dubbier, slightly extended version on the flip. Something for everyone, and a veritable hit that only begs the question of why this wasn’t released earlier in the year so that it could become a summer anthem for poverty-stricken bachelors everywhere.

[Curle Petite]

The combination of Discogs and YouTube has revolutionized the second-hand vinyl market over the past few years. Discogs has democratized record buying to the extent that you can buy almost any record you like — as long as you’re prepared to pay the often exorbitant asking price. Allied to the fact you can then check on YouTube if that track your favorite DJ played last night sounds quite as good now as it did at silly o’clock on a booming system, and it’s a record nerd’s wet dream. Even a “name” DJ such as Dor Levi was happy to admit in an interview it’s how he often discovers many of his favorite older tracks. The net result is that demand for certain records can reach such levels that prices fluctuate like shares on the stock exchange. Records that could once be bought at rock-bottom prices change hands for obscene amounts if certain DJs dig them out from the crates. Take Walt J for example. An obscure producer from Detroit whose biography I can furnish no further than with his surname (Jones), Walt J’s records from the mid-90s for the buy-on-sight Dow label (a subsidiary of the no less essential Utensil) have recently started fetching astronomical amounts. This time last year, you could pick up his records for under a tenner in any currency, but thanks to the patronage of Villalobos, Prosumer et al, and you’ll now be lucky to get change out of ten times that on some of his rarer wax.

Thank goodness then for reissue labels, such as Curle’s Petite enterprise, that save those of us slower off the mark from having to deal with the Discogs and Ebay shitehawks (and hopefully earn the artist some well-earned green). Of course, there’s still a price to pay on many a reissue; shoddy packaging, a poor pressing, or in this case, the loss of a track off the original pressing. Thankfully, compensation for this omission arrives somewhat with a very fine DJ Qu remix that more than complements the pair of Walt J originals. “Reborn 1″ opens with a thump, and a disinterested, truncated female voice repeating “lay next to you,” before two notes lifted from “Can You Feel It” and a furious snare add seasoning. Fine ingredients, simply cooked, resulting in a very tasty whole. The aforementioned Qu “Journey Towards Birth” remix strips the voice out of “Reborn 1″ for almost the duration, replacing the steady thud with yet steadier hi-hats and a Basic Channel groove, before finally bringing in the filtered vocal towards the end. More direct than most Qu workouts, and all the better for it. “Reborn 2″ is melancholic Detroit techno at its best, strongly reminiscent of Jeff Mills’ more reflective work (think “Gamma Player”), with a cracking snare that makes for easy mixing fodder. An essential record, which at whatever price you pay for it, will feel like money well spent.

[Dial]

When questioned about the mildly provocative title of his sophomore album as Efdemin in a recent interview, Philip Sollman deadpanned that he had merely chosen it as bait for journalists. It certainly generated a good deal of hot air on the Resident Advisor message boards, but Sollman went on to explain that while this was far from a Jack Trax tribute record: he has been inspired at various points by a number of musicians from Chicago, ranging from Harry Partch to R.Kelly. Certainly Chicago is a much more diverse record than Efdemin’s self-titled debut, and only one track (“Night Train”) approaches that collection’s lush neo-Detroitisms. Indeed, it reminds of Jan Jelinek’s approach in the early 2000s; folding in disparate influences to produce a cohesive, syncretic whole. The microhouse comparisons extend further to the dry percussiveness of some tracks; similar to what Efdemin has been playing in recent DJ sets, but also very reminiscent of LoSoul, for example.

“Cowbell” opens the album, and indeed sounds like an alternate take on Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records, wayward organ stabs keeping the listener guessing. “Shoeshine” follows less politely, with juddering bass and a firm slap of a beat, again similar to the style of another vaguely unfashionable microhouse veteran, the Wighnomy Brothers. “Oh My God,” and it’s later reprise, are probably the furthest developed pieces, a collaboration with Nina Kraviz which elegantly evolves into a swinging jazzy jam, complete with Art Ensemble of Chicago-esque horns. “There Will Be Singing” is similarly sophisticated, a warped vocal phrase intoning the title before furious high hats take over. The later “Nothing Is Everything” is especially glitchy, chopping up a voice until it’s unrecognisable, transmogrifying instruments until they’re unrecognisable. “Round Here” and “Wonderland” take the playful, brittle funk route plotted by early Perlon, complete with comedy vocal snippets.

Chicago is certainly excellently produced, full of filigree touches and details; very accomplished, but I can’t decide whether it’s actually any good. The first time I listened to the record, I thought it was horrible, an overstuffed and overcooked mess. The second time I listened to it, I thought it was brilliant; Efdemin’s own Alcachofa, confounding and challenging the listener at every turn. Now, I feel somewhere in the middle. It still sounds a little unresolved, an artist attempting to find his way after perhaps having been pushed into a creative cul-de-sac by the unexpected success of his first record. It’s classic second album syndrome in many ways, and while I’ve found Chicago easy to admire but difficult to love, it continues to leave me intrigued which musical cities Sollman will be traveling to next.

“We know, we know, the current re-issue wave of classic house music platters is a bit much — especially the unlawful ones with photocopied artwork.” These are the words of Running Back’s Gerd Janson from the press sheet for his own label’s contribution to the tsunami, a reissue of Zaki Dee, Rob Mello and Luke Solomon’s Heaven and Earth EP from the Prescription label. And Janson’s right, the wave has turned into a deluge. But let’s not behave like King Canute about this, nothing can stop the tide. The Dutch powerhouse Rush Hour has probably been most relentless in its retrospective output, particularly now it has taken charge in the latest (and actually greatest) of the many Trax reissue programs there have been down the years. To be honest, I could have filled this entire list with selections from RH, but with apologies to them, Mojuba G.O.D., the aforementioned Running Back, Styrax Leaves, Clone Classic Cuts, Delsin, Prescription Classics, Downwards, Alleviated and all the other labels that have been schooling me, you and anyone else too young, too ignorant or too poor to check these on the OG pressing, here’s an essential five.

Drexciya, Neptune’s Lair [Tresor] (buy)
Tresor repressed a number of their most sought-after records this year, not least the essential Robert Hood album Internal Empire, but the one that got me most excited was Drexciya’s Neptune’s Lair. Released in 1999, it seems to somewhat divide opinion amongst the Drexciyian fanbase. Some will claim it to be the finest electro album of all time, while others describe it as a disappointment, a disjointed collection of fragments and sketches. No prizes for guessing which side of the fence I’m sitting on. True, most of the tracks are short, and lack the highly concentrated ferocity of slightly later tracks such as “Digital Tsunami” which made the reclusive duo of James Stinson and Gerald Donald a more natural fit with the hard techno bastion of the Berlin club and label. But its restless, skittish nature is also its appeal, particularly when it occasionally gives way to the moody, meditative beauty of tracks like “Andrean Sand Dunes” before whisking you away again. Deceptively shallow, Neptune’s Lair is, as the title and Abdul Haqq’s artwork suggests, deep as oceans if you wade around in it long enough.

V/A, A Tribute To Ken Collier [Slow To Speak] (buy)
From a group whose lifespan was cut short by the premature death of James Stinson, to another Detroit legend who died too soon. This panegyric to Ken Collier, organized by the good people at Dope Jams (and not to be confused with the Terrence Parker record of the same name), pays testament to a DJ who inspired more than a few people who have been in turn been pretty inspiring to current generations of DJs: Mike Huckaby, Delano Smith and Norm Talley, just to name a prominent handful. I’m not entirely sure what these three tracks have to do with Collier, aside from the A-side dub of Was (Not Was)’s “Tell Me That I’m Dreaming” which had his production credits, but they’re dance floor dynamite now as they surely were in mid-80s Detroit. Anonymously presented aside from touching sleeve notes by Alan Oldham, it is indeed a fine tribute to Collier, who died of diabetic complications on February 19th, 1996.

Boo Williams, Residual EP [Rush Hour] (buy)
Amongst the glut of reissues from the RH camp this year, it’s been easy to miss the odd one or two. Robert Hood’s “Funky Souls” under his Floorplan alias has been deservedly ubiquitous, but these four tracks cherry-picked from Boo Williams two EPs for Titonton Duvanté’s Residual imprint seem to have been somewhat overlooked. Although they date from the late 90s, they still sound remarkably fresh, with a smooth style that sounds like an antecedent to Fred P’s current productions, albeit bolted to Boo’s trademark jackhammer drums. I was previously familiar with Boo’s earlier and much rougher sounding records for Relief , but the the soft pads here only serve to make the slamming beats sound even heavier. An iron fist in a velvet glove.

Charanjit Singh, Synthesizing – Ten Ragas To A Disco Beat [Bombay Connection] (buy)
Having popped to the record shop beforehand, I sat in east London’s Café Oto a few months ago transfixed by a woman playing ragas on her sitar, with a bag full of house next to me. It didn’t occur to me at the time that someone might combine these two divergent sounds, let alone back in 1982, before the latter genre had even been invented. Indeed, when Ten Ragas was released in March, it had more than a whiff of a music nerd in-joke about it. Traditional Indian music performed on a Roland TB-303? Really? Thanks to some detective work by Geeta Dayal (amongst others) it emerged that the 10 tracks included here are indeed genuine, rather than the smirking offspring of Richard D. James or some other sonic prankster. Better to read Dayal’s illuminating pieces than try to explain the back story here, but if you’ve ever wondered what Phuture might have sounded like had DJ Pierre, Spanky and Herb J been born in Calcutta rather than Chicago, this is probably as close as you’re going to get. A genuine novelty well worth investigating.

V/A, House Of Trax Vol. 3 [Rush Hour] (buy)
At the time of writing, the RH Trax reissue programme is at Volume 5, and long may it continue. Volume Two appears to have been skipped (apparently something to do with Chicago label Let’s Pet Puppies having rights to a rare Marcus Mixx track), but the other four have been seriously enlightening, even to someone well versed in the Trax catalogue. Volume Three is the doozy, with an alternate, rougher (Ron Hardy?) version of Jamie Principle’s “Bad Boy” and his Italo killer “It’s A Cold World” (originally credited solely to Frankie Knuckles). But the reason I bought this was for Ace and the Sandman’s “Let Your Body Talk,” as anybody who witnessed me, running, slipping and finally spilling my drink across a crowded dance floor in an effort to congratulate the DJ who played this last weekend will testify. Produced by Eric Lewis and Merwyn Sanders, aka Virgo Four, this stands up to, and even beats, anything on their superb (and also recently reissued) album. Subtle 303 lines, a disarming, sensual vocal and the most heartbreaking, melancholic synths…. Ah, enough rhapsodizing, just go listen to the damn record.

Nebraska’s Mixed Up Music For Mixed Up People is, to use Morgan Geist’s term, an “unclassic” of an album. Slept on by most when it was released by DownLow Recordings in 2008, a couple of years later it not only stands up to comparable efforts by Geist’s group Metro Area and Recloose (Cardiology), but joins them as one of the best house albums of the last decade. As the title of the album, and those two reference points might suggest, Mixed Up Music For Mixed Up People is not your average four-four thump, melding funk, jazz and soul influences into a coherent whole. A couple of reissues from Rush Hour and a new EP titled A Weekend On My Own later, and it feels like people are finally ready for Nebraska’s music. We also felt it was about time to invite the man behind the moniker, Ali Gibbs, to answer a few questions and contribute a mix for our 53rd exclusive podcast.

LWE Podcast 53: Nebraska (54:50)

Tracklist

01. Placebo, “Balek” [CBS]
02. Chocolate Milk, “Time Machine” [RCA Victor]
03. Marvin Gaye, “Cleo’s Apartment” [Tamla Motown]
04. Cloud One, “Atmosphere Strut” [P&P Records]
05. Skyy, “First Time Around” (Cosmo Vitelli Edit) [I'm A Cliché]
06. Floating Points, “Truly” [Eglo Records]
07. Nebraska, “Untitled 1999 Archive Track” [white*]
08. Nebraska, “Hi Ya” [Smooth Agent Records]
09. Steve Winwood, “Penultimate Zone” (Nebraska Edit) [white*]
10. Graham Central Station, “The Jam” [Warner Bros. Records]
11. Harmonia, “Watussi” [Brain]
* denotes tracks which, as of the time of publishing, are unreleased

Please tell us a little bit about your podcast for LWE. When/where it was made, and if there was any theme?

Ali Gibbs: It was made in my home in South East London, using my 20 year old Technics 1200s and also a demo version of Ableton — my first real attempt at digital DJing. The theme was simply to use stuff that’s been on my mind recently, a mix of soundtrack soul and spacey funk. And a bit of Kosmichmusik at the end.

The recordings for your debut album Mixed Up Music For Mixed Up People were made between 1995-2004. Do you like a long gestation period for your music before it is released, or is that purely circumstantial?

I get things to a certain point and don’t know what to do with them. You have to stop thinking about them for a long time to understand what’s good or bad about them. Sometimes you don’t recognise that what you’ve done is any good. “Plastiscene” from the DownLow LP is a case in point; made sometime around ’94 by myself and James Mason in one live take, but it never seemed “complete,” until I realised it didn’t need anything more. It just needed to ferment to the right vintage.

Following on from that, was your last release A Weekend On My Own “new” material?

Yes, that was nearly all made in the last year or so. Although “Masala Dosa” is from around 2003, I think.

You released Mixed Up Music For Mixed Up People on U.S. label DownLow. How did you hook up with them?

We first discussed the idea of me working with Minto and JT around 2003/4 — I was contacted by them out of the blue via email. They knew the material I’d done on Ferox and asked if I had anything else. It was around the time where I had sold all of my original equipment and was planning to not do any more music in order to concentrate on my “real” career.

Steve Pickton (aka Stasis) and Soul223 remixed “Vicarious Disco” for you. Did you know Steve or was this organised by dL?

I’d long been a huge fan of Steve’s stuff and own nearly all the records he made. I’d never really met him to speak to; I’d bought the odd record off him when he worked at Smallfish, but never introduced myself. Minto suggested it and I leapt at the idea. I liked that what he did with that remix suggested a hybrid between Madlib and Theo Parrish, just the sort of thing I imagine.

Your music is quite different from pretty much all of the British house or techno community. Do you have any connection to that community, and more widely, who do you feel are your peers?

I have no idea who my peers are, or really thought about any particular community. Recent British music I like has been by people like Floating Points, Lukid, Hudson Mohawke, Four Tet… although the stuff I’ve released in the past few years has been loosely “house,” stuff before that had a techno edge, and prior to that it was more downtempo/hip-hop led. I listen a lot to pre-80′s music — jazz and rock — and to DJs like Theo and KDJ. Sample-based hip hop has been the big inspiration for me — Double Dee & Steinski and the first few A Tribe Called Quest LPs.

I understand you released a few records on the Russ Gabriel’s British techno label Ferox in the mid-90s. Do you want to talk about that a little bit?

Around 1996 I’d become more interested in the sample-based techno I was beginning to hear from people like Russ, Kirk Degiorgio, Stasis, et al. I sent a few tapes around and Russ got back to me, suggesting we do an album. We ended up being good friends and Russ released the original Terrestrial Variations 12″ (the last of the material I made on my old set-up) around 2000. I think he lives in Germany now; we lost touch a bit when he moved.

Some of your music has a very cinematic quality, made explicit in the track title “A Film I Can’t Remember.” Can you “remember” any of your favourite films, and some of your favourite soundtracks?

I’m a big film fan — all the usual Coppola and Scorsese ones, and “Withnail & I” is a movie I’ve watched a million times like a lot of British people my age. Love all the jazz guys who made the great soundtracks – Quincy Jones, Lalo Schiffrin, et al. Always great for samples. The one I’ve caught on to recently is the Ennio Morricone score for Magdalene — that’s amazing and the drums were used on the Bel Air Project 12″s that blew me away in the late ’90s.

Plans for Nebraska this year?

Another four track 12″ on Rush Hour. Maybe a mix compilation of the last four 12″s plus some unreleased stuff. I do music when I feel like it and when I have time. As I’m not trying to make a living at it, I don’t do it if I’m not feeling it. I’ve gone for a year before without doing anything. Sometimes a break is what makes you creative again.

LWE Podcast 53: Nebraska (54:50)

[Dial]

Like the Missoni their roster modeled in a recent photoshoot for German magazine De:bug, the Dial label is a family affair, with a long history and an instantly recognizable aesthetic. Despite both “brands” diversification into (among other things) hotels and indie lounge-pop respectively, they are still most widely recognized by their original product: knitwear and a very particular brand of romantic, wistful Teutonic house. But I have to end the rather tenuous association and comparison brought about by Dial co-founder David Lieske’s interest in high-end fashion, not least because a Missoni cardigan will set you back around 500 euros while a Dial twelve inch costs closer to nine euros. Still, it remains true that the Italian company fits the Dial pin-ups well: Both exude a dandified, European sophistication and continue to experiment, secure in their place in the market, all the while still serving their loyal customer base with pieces cut to the template of their original classics.

2010 is very much a mix of these two concerns. On the one hand, we have a couple of new players, in the form of Isolée and Kassian Troyer. And Dial’s somewhat eccentric forays into indie-pop are also present and correct, with Tocotronic main man Dirk von Lowtzow’s side-project Phantom/Ghost’s louche “My Secret Europe,” and the previously released “He Said” by Dominique. But Dial’s core aesthetic of chic but understated deep house remains present, with contributions from label founders Lawrence, Pantha du Prince and Efdemin that stay true, occasionally too much so, to the label’s sound when it was first birthed in Hamburg 10 years ago.

Dial is a far more international affair these days, with only Lawrence (aka Peter Kersten) of the founding quartet still residing in Hamburg. Pantha du Prince (Henrik Weber) spends the majority of his time in Paris, Philip Sollman (Efdemin) in Berlin, and Lieske (also known as Carsten Jost) having spent the last few years in Tel Aviv. They’ve also brought in more international talent, in the form of the prodigious American John Roberts. Roberts is an example of Dial’s diversification; his drums for example owe more to Dance Mania than the subtle plod of Lawrence’s, but his work still retains the melancholy of his mentors. “Lines,” his contribution to 2010 is outstanding, matching that trademark thump to a smacked-out concert pianist. Another relative newcomer, Christian Naujoks, puts aside the effete stylings of his self-titled debut and instead pulls out a bumping, bass-driven Detroit house cut. Efdemin’s occasional production partner Rndm’s effort is a chunky slice of newer deep house, and their collaboration as Pigon splits the difference between the two producer’s work as an abstract techno gem that wouldn’t look out of place on Ifach, or more recently, Livejam.

Of the aforementioned close friends who formed the label, Carsten Jost’s “Days Gone By” makes by far the finest contribution. A hymn of wistfulness to (perhaps) those early days hanging out at the Golden Pudel club, its perfect simpleness and directness contrasts with the other’s more complex, and duller, efforts. Lawrence has yet to regain the form of his mid-2000s heyday, but “Treacle Mine” is nevertheless a vast improvement on last year’s lackluster Until Then, Goodbye. You can almost hear Kersten straining to try something different from the sound of those years; and while it is a brave effort for an artist who seems to be caught between not wishing to be pigeon-holed and retaining, in Theo Parrish’s phrase, a sound signature, it can occasionally sound a little forced. Efdemin’s “Time” bodes well for his forthcoming full-length Chicago, a confusing but beguiling melange of chopped and screwed voices and burbling percussion, while Pantha du Prince’s “Fountain Drive” sounds like an off-cut from his Rough Trade album Black Noise, with all that that might imply.

2010 is a fine addition to the Dial collection, and as Spring/Summer pieces go, it’s certainly cheaper to pick up than Missoni’s. It explores some interesting tangents without a wholesale reinvention, and like the venerable Milanese knitwear offers warmth and familiarity while retaining a distinctive look. Dial will stay fashionable for a few more seasons at least.

Running Back is one of the most consistent labels about. Only in terms of quality, mind. Consistency doesn’t equal homogeneity, and frankly Running Back can be all over the shop stylistically. Ravey, wildpitch house from Radio Slave one release, Robert Dietz’s desiccated Mannheim funk the next, Running Back is unafraid to thumb its nose at genre purists. This past year has been a particularly fruitful and varied one, combining essential reissues of the famous Prescription label and bizarre Japanese sound effects with original and enervating productions from Dplay, the mysterious Precious System, Lil Tony, Jacob Korn and of course the massive Tensnake disco-smash “In The End (I Want You To Cry).” Without a set roster, and such a varied palette, many other labels would be left floundering. Fortunately, Gerd Janson is at the tiller, keeping the good ship Running Back on course with his sturdy hands and immaculate taste. Mr Janson may be familiar to you from any number of encounters; interviewing Theo Parrish for the Red Bull Music Academy, manning the decks at his internationally famous local Robert Johnson, or applying his dry wit and playful phrasing to his journalistic assignments for Spex and Groove, among others. For a busy man, Janson is exceptionally generous with his time, and it was a pleasure to shoot the shit with him for a couple hours about the eternal vinyl versus mp3 debate, Walter Benjamin, British dub soundsystems, and what we can expect next from the least predictable of labels.

How did Running Back start? How did you pick the name?

Gerd Janson: Ah, well, I’m not sure of the English word, but it was quite a fast idea. Back in 2002, I spent a lot of time with Thorsten Scheu, who was producing under the moniker of Glance for the [Frankfurt] label STIR15 which was coming out with some deep house, classic house influenced releases like Motorcitysoul, for example. We just talked about starting a label for his stuff, and a few other close friends’. We had quite a hard time finding a suitable name, and all the best names, like Strictly Rhythm, were already taken! Another friend, Thomas Hammann, who I still DJ with quite a lot, he came up with the name Running Back. We liked the notion of it; of course on the one hand it is an American football reference, but then you could also use it as something old-fashioned, or anachronistic. Going back, but forwards at the same time, if that makes sense. It can be quite difficult at first to find a name for this idea that you have, but after a while when other people are using it also, it starts to make sense.

[Later] Thorsten then sort of got out of the straightforward four-to-the-floor house music, and more and more interested in Northern Soul. And a lot of the other guys like Mute, who did two of the early releases on Running Back, he slowed down with his productions, and I had to ask myself, is this something I want to carry on? There were never any hard feelings, but if you’ve started something for a group of friends, and then over time they become less interested in making music or prolific or dedicated… So from the first Mark E record onwards I took it in my own hands.

I was interested in how you hooked up with Mark E… and then also you have this thing on your MySpace page, “The Demo Policy Of Truth,” which is pretty funny…

(Laughs) Well, y’know [the policy] sounds quite blasé, but it’s not really meant that way. Of course people who you don’t know can approach you, and you can tell from the way they approach you [that they are genuine]. They have certain manners: ‘Hi, my name is …, I like your label, blah blah blah.’ Even if you can say these are superficial things. You get so many emails and links, and you can tell the guy doesn’t even know, he got the label email from I don’t know where, and they don’t even bother to BCC the addressee, so you can see he’s sent it to every label on the planet [laughs]. Sometimes it’s almost rude: ‘Please let me know when you want to release it’. Of course part of this is due to language barriers, but…. One day I got so angry… I don’t know if it helps anything, it was just my little take on it [laughs].

With Mark E, a mutual friend, Rob J, who runs these nights in Birmingham called Dropout Boogie, said, ‘Hey Gerd, there’s this guy who you should check out.’ Mark had just brought out the first Jisco release, which I liked a lot. So we got in touch, and brought out the “Deja Vu/Beat Down” twelve, and since then we’ve worked together — there was another one [Slave 1] and there will be another one.

I never have the feeling that I have to use handcuffs for people. I’m just glad if the thing works, and then of course they are free to do stuff for other labels or starting their own labels, like Mark has now. I always try and look for what is best for the music. I am sounding pretty angelic here, although in reality it’s just promiscuity. Of course you get demos that you like and that you would buy, but you don’t know when to do it, or how to do it. This is almost the hardest thing. On the one hand there is this talk, ‘Yeah, the music industry is all going down, blah blah,’ but then on the other, I’ve been a record buyer for some years but I’ve never got that feeling, like it is nowadays, that there is too much music to buy. Reissues, re-edits, new stuff, old stuff.

I know, it’s frightening isn’t it?

Yeah, it is. It’s not only the money thing, but also who can digest all of this stuff?

Yep, who has the time? The way there are so many micro-genres, it’s all quite segregated, and there are so many records. You can’t go into the record shop and say, ‘Give me everything.’

Yes, you could spend your monthly budget just on dub-techno [laughs]. No need to debate if there is any need for it after Maurizio and Chain Reaction. A lot of the stuff is very good and well produced and has a certain aesthetic, but do you want a whole Ikea Expedit shelf full of just dub-techno? I have a bit of a thing with the dubstep stuff. I’m talking here about the reggae or soul influenced stuff. I’m not a fan if it gets too dark or ravey…

Who are you thinking of specifically?

Well, there’s this Shackleton guy, and I’m not namechecking him just because he is on Perlon, but you know you can’t label this dubstep at all, he is in a league of his own. Peverelist, Appleblim, if you like the IDM branch of dubstep. Kode9, and recently Joy Orbison and Martyn also. I was always a fan of UK bass music, Shut Up and Dance for example, jungle, and this stuff talks more to me than the ravey stuff. I guess if you are dubstep DJ then you can buy all of it, but I’m not. And I love Roska, Roska, Roska who is an exponent of a new genre altogether, right? The funky commonwealth. And then I’m a big reggae fan, and in that field it’s almost impossible to keep pace with it. Then there is the old records, the second-hand market. It’s a downward spiral [laughs].

Running Back has a very open policy, and it almost feels as if you would release anything, as long as you thought it was good. Perhaps like the old Playhouse/Robert Johnson t-shirt: “Good music I dance. No good music I not dance”?

Yes, if you want to put it in a nutshell, this is it. I mean, within a reasonable frame. As I say, I am a big fan of reggae and Jah Shaka or Aba Shanti and these other very unique UK takes on steppers riddims, but it would not make sense for me to put them out. The electronic music guys, some of them might like it, but… And guys that were into that wouldn’t check for Running Back, so… It’s just looking at what you can do with the four-to-the-floor stuff, and there is enough already that I like. I like the idea of concepts (for example I mentioned Maurizio earlier), but I think with Running Back we’re not tied to a particular clique or gang, so it doesn’t make sense to be that strict about it. If it feels to me like a thing that I would buy, or play, I try to make it happen.

I also wanted to ask about the artwork – the Sex Mania tribute for the Radio Slave record, the football team for Dplay, and the Jacob Korn — I heard somewhere that this was your niece, or?

[laughs] Actually no, this is Prins Thomas’ son. If you look closely, it credits him on the sleeve, with a little help of LastMinutePanic, who has been looking after the artwork since the start. The first four releases looked quite similar, the idea being to have cheap, interchangeable artwork; we change the colors, and the names, and then off we go.

I guess like Perlon, with their instantly recognizable company sleeves.

Yeah, exactly. But I also feel that after about number twenty, it all starts to look samey. I like the idea that the records are quite different to each other, and giving each one its own face. With the Jacob Korn record, the initial designs looked a bit sterile, so I had this quite cheesy idea to have this child’s drawing…

I like the way that the drawing matches the optimistic or almost naïve feel of the music.

That is very kind of you. I actually called up the mother of my niece, and asked if she had a picture of the sun lying around. Her name is Rosa and she is turning three now, so she’s not really painting or drawing yet, it’s only scribbles. So I asked Prins [Thomas], who of course does the remix, and his son is a little bit older [laughs]. Prins said he ended up feeling like one of these football coach fathers, motivating their children: ‘C’mon, draw more, draw more.’

Like you said, we try and match the artwork and the music. With the Radio Slave, I am a big fan of DJ Duke, and when Matt [Edwards] played me the tracks that he kindly donated to Running Back, I felt like it was an update to this sound. And with the original Sex Mania artwork, I always thought it was a shame that the girl didn’t have a bra, so I thought it was a good idea to give her one [laughs]. I’m not a graphic designer, or a big art guy, but if I have seen one thing in my life over the years, it is record labels. I like the idea that it could remind you of something you have seen before, or that it fits with the record. I feel like artwork is important, especially when you have these dry download files.

So what is your favorite Running Back release, and why?

Ah, it’s like asking a father about his favorite child. I can’t really pick one. The main impetus for me is picking something that I would play and that I like. Maybe a fan of the Mark E, 100bpm “Deja Vu/Beatdown” release is put off by the Radio Slave, or maybe the guy that likes Radio Slave is put off by the Jakob Korn because he thinks, ‘Oooh, this is not techno!’ or whatever. For me, it’s just different sides of one coin.

It’s also for different times of the night, right? Your Radio Slave is for 4 o’clock in the morning and the others are for earlier or later…

Ideally, yes. I mean someone once said that for a music journalist I put out pretty straight records [laughs]. I mean, I’m a DJ as well so I see it like that. ‘OK, this is something I would play at this club at that time, and this is something that I would play at another club, at a different time.’ But really, picking a favorite, I can’t. I know it’s a cliche, but I like them all for different reasons.

Well, I guess my question is as much of a cliche [laughs]. Which brings me onto my next question — you write for Spex and Groove — how does it feel to be “on the receiving end”? People reviewing your stuff, me asking you stupid questions…

Actually it’s pretty strange, because when I’m on the other side, it all seems pretty easy. I’m asking questions, I’m putting records in a certain context. For example, I don’t have a problem if someone says, ‘Oh, this Running Back record is utter shite,’ not at all. Of course, artists don’t want to read a bad review or a poor RA rating or whatever. I look it from this angle — I can read a bad review and then actually listen to the record and really enjoy it. That’s how I try to do it — the reader should know why the guy does or doesn’t like it and what his arguments are. For instance, it wouldn’t make sense for me to review Tiësto’s new album because that’s just not the music I’m into. It wouldn’t be surprising to read me saying bad things about it. Then for interviews, it’s harder than I ever thought. Actually it feels a bit like on Sigmund Freud’s couch because a lot of the time it’s the first time you consciously think, ‘Why am I actually doing this?’ I know it’s also a cliche to say that it’s a gut feeling, and then all of a sudden you have to answer these questions. I hope I’ll get better at it! [laughs] Now I finally understand why many people don’t like music journalists. Talking to guys like you, or Bjørn [Schaeffner] who did the RA feature, it’s a bit different, because you are like-minded people, people who are music fans. I think the bad reputation of music journalism comes from more of the (can I say this?!) Jockey Slut or MixMag, the British dance press thing. They have more of a tabloid, sensationalist mentality, y’know, phoning people like Theo Parrish and saying, ‘So, Theo, who is better, you or Kenny?’ Things like that, which are not even tongue-in-cheek.

A few of Running Back’s notorious center labels

So what is the best thing about running a label, but also what is the worst?

Well, the best, it’s no secret that you won’t become a rich man but it’s still a nice thing if you can sell a decent amount, to break even, or even make a little bit and share it with the artist. It’s nice to see that people actually enjoy the music. Of course it’s a bit selfish also — it’s putting out stuff that I want to have on vinyl!

Surely it’s also a thrill to hear music you’ve put out in a club?

Yes, of course. This has happened to me a few times, and you can try and stop yourself a little bit, but you have to smile! And sometimes it took me a while to even recognize it. You know the feeling of thinking that you have heard this record before somewhere. The worst stuff about it: it’s time consuming, all the accounting and so on. I’m a really bad guy with paperwork!

It’s just you running the label then?

Yes. I mean if you start bringing in other people, someone to do your office or whatever, then the costs rise and you have to sell more, and it can all get a bit out of control. I think even in the small world that we move in, there is something of the 1980s idea of the pop star: ‘Oh yes, I have this number one record, I’m getting remixed by so-and-so, now I need an agent,’ and so on. We mentioned Perlon earlier, and I think they are a good example of how to keep your integrity in some of this madness.

Yeah, I like the fact that they don’t have a website, no mp3s etc.

Yes, it’s very basic, very 90′s. You can still send them a letter, or handwritten fax. But my take on the whole mp3 thing is a little different. I think these days, you don’t really take record-buyers away, by having your stuff available digitally. They are so into records, they want to have the physical object, and so the mp3 only tides them over until they have it in their hands. On the other hand, a guy that plays with Serato or laptops, they might not want to make the effort to buy a record and then digitize it. So OK, I also like their hardcore approach to it, but then you can also get every Perlon record digitally, albeit not legally. The 20th century already made art reproducible, if that’s a word…

You mean like Walter Benjamin?

Yes exactly, I wasn’t sure of the title in English…

The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.

He has some very valid points, about ritualism, these kinds of things. But if you look at the bare facts, it was never as easy to get hold of music as it is today. It’s about making it available in a way so at least the artist gets a little bit out of it. I think it was Ricardo Villalobos who was talking about how his music is specifically made to be played from vinyl, on this soundsystem, in a certain situation. You can’t really make this decision any more. As soon as you release something, it is taken out of your hands. It’s a bit sad, but also you know before this Internet age people, I think especially in Great Britain, were really quick to bootleg things, if they were popular [and] as soon as they were out of print. I’m sure you are familiar with the situation with Theo Parrish’s Ugly Edits, and no year goes by without some Moodymann bootleg. Even Todd Terje gets bootlegged these days!

Of course there was the situation with Henrik Schwarz’s remix of Bill Withers’ “Who Is He (And What Is He To You)”…

Yes, that’s the same thing. The label maybe decides not to release something, and then they get a mp3 from somewhere, perhaps even cut out of a live set, and they press it up.

It’s pretty crazy!

In a way, from one perspective, it’s kind of funny, you can look at it in a Jamaican, no-copyright way. ‘The music has to be heard on the streets’ [laughs]. It’s also really crazy, the way it paralyzes the artists, and the label.

Moving on, we’ve talked about Perlon a lot, and you say that setting up Running Back was quite a spontaneous decision, but are there any other labels that you admire?

Ron Trent and Chez Damier’s Prescription label was a really big influence, actually the reason I started buying vinyl. I was more of a club kid back then, but I liked the music so much I had to own it. Erm, Playhouse, one of the greatest electronic music labels of all time. The list is endless: Nu Groove, Strictly Rhythm. And then all these little New Jersey labels that you love for their naïvety and roughness, and the same with the Chicago ones, Trax and the smaller ones. Labels like Warp that you have to pay your respects to. Labels I like now: too many to mention! I’m a big fan of what Prins Thomas has been doing with Full Pupp, Internasjonal. I like the Workshop or Wax approach where you are not sure who the artist is, although I guess the cat is out of the bag already. I like Ostgut [Ton] for the reason that it portrays what they are doing with their club. Underground Quality, Novel Sound. My friends from Innervisions who have been always very supportive. There is something to find in very contrasting sounds. The Smallville or Dial camp, the ethics and aesthetics of Innervisions or loners like Omar-S, who is just doing his own stuff. And then the Sex Tags Mania guys, they just don’t care about anything. I think it’s the same motivation I have, they want it on vinyl, so they put it out. They also have a great sense of humor, like the 909 bass drum record — it’s just one locked-groove of a straight Roland TR-909 kick drum, without anything else. [laughs] Things like that are great. A quintessential techno record!

As you see, the list is endless. The bottom line is, these days you have to respect anyone who puts the time, effort and money into putting out an actual physical record.

I also wanted to talk to you about your involvement with Robert Johnson club. You had the mix CD with them out a couple of months ago?

Yes, I’ve been playing there for, all-in-all, nine years now. They had their 10 year anniversary this summer, and I think more or less one year after that I had the honor and privilege of becoming a resident there. Actually, this was due to Thomas Hammann, who is one of my all-time favorite DJs and friends. He got asked to do a night there and took me along too. So we have been doing this night now for nine years, mostly pretty low-key, sometimes with guests like Soundstream live, or Mark E or Maurice Fulton. To me, and this always sounds a little stupid if you play somewhere, ‘Oh, this is the best club in the world,’ but to me it comes pretty close to an ideal room for the kind of music that I like in a club. Not too small, not too big, quite open and it has a balcony, so you can always flee the scene if you so wish! You can pack in 800 people if you so wish, but also have a fun time with just 200, because the bar is movable. They always keep the balance between really known people, or more underground people. The fact that people like Ricardo still want to play there tells you something; of course the big names can’t get the same amount of money there as they can at the bigger clubs, but they still come. It’s just so much fun playing there. There are certain records that you play there, and then you play somewhere else, and it’s just not the same. Of course this is formulaic resident DJ stuff that they say about their own clubs! [laughs]

Another big honor was to mix the fourth CD in the Live At Robert Johnson series with Thomas. It’s a little snapshot of what we’ve doing there over the years. It’s all our favorite house music. It’s really hard to do a CD without doing it on a laptop, and still have all the stuff in there that you want to include, as your DJ business card. Whatever, it’s a mix! It was a big relief to finish it, I find it such a pain in the ass! I hate doing DJ mixtapes!

Yeah, I read that RA interview where you said you had to keep re-recording your RA mix.

Yes, I like to do it with record players, or maybe a CD player, rather than these music programs, where you can just perfectly sequence it. I’m a pretty laissez-faire guy, I like mistakes usually, but if I do it myself then I hate them [laughs]. It can make you go crazy! Some of the commercially released mixes are very sterile, if I may say so, because they are using these programs, and all has to be perfect. Then there are these other restrictions, like you have to get everything licensed. It’s a lot of work.

I guess this follows on a bit, and I know you’re a big record buyer. I read, I think on the Innervisions blog, where they were describing you as their “favorite truffle-pig,” so digging up new, or old records that no-one else has heard of! You also curated a record for Sonar Kollektiv a couple of years back, Computer Incarnations for World Peace, is that right?

Yes, together with Alex from Jazzanova for the first one, and then the second one I did on my own. The second was trying to pick some stuff that was influenced by the music on the first CD, so Brennan Green, Daniel Wang and Maurice Fulton. Actually I would give the guys from the famous web forum DJHistory.com the badge of being great truffle-pigs! You have people like Mark 7 or the guys from Pure Pleasure who are massive record collectors if you talk about this old 80′s stuff, or disco and Balearic music. Everything that goes beyond the usual house and techno stuff, they are amazing at finding strange records.

I also wanted to ask you about your interest in hip-hop. I noticed some of your pseudonyms such as DJ Pink Alert or Tuff City Kids are very apparent rap references.

Uh, the Pink Alert thing came about because I was wearing a pink polo shirt, and someone asked me, ‘Hey, what’s your DJ name?’, and I was like, ‘Oh, it’s Kool DJ Pink Alert because I was just talking about Kool DJ Red Alert with someone else earlier. Of course it’s a funny name, and Morgan Geist once said to me it sounds like a pale guy having an erection [laughs].

Tuff City Kids, well of course I love the label Tuff City, and great artwork and so on, but actually this was from a tag in this club I used to play at in Mannheim. I always wanted to take a picture, and when I started doing remixes with Philip Lauer, I decided we should use this name. But, yes, hip-hop is one of my favorite genres, A Tribe Called Quest, DJ Premier, all the “golden-age” or “daisy” era stuff. Of course the earlier stuff also, Tuff City. Also when Stone’s Throw or Rawkus appeared on the scene, maybe this is the last time it really hit me hard. I still follow it, but I’m not so keen on a lot of it now. There are still great people doing great things, but not so much that I want to spend money on. It feels like everybody is still trying to redo J Dilla or mimic Flying Lotus now. Even the top 40 American stuff has somehow lost its momentum a little. Maybe it’s just me! On a positive note, I enjoy this guy Onra.

So how many records do you have?

Oh, I stopped counting, and this is always a bad sign when someone says this! I have too much, too many. In my old flat, I even had them placed in the kitchen. My girlfriend said that it’s somehow enough now, so I can’t have them in the bathroom or in the bedroom, that’s sanctioned! And nothing is in order! I liked ordered collections, and I’ll go to someone’s house, and it will be ordered, and I can go alphabetical from The Go-Betweens to Drexciya and I know exactly what’s in-between, but I never managed to do it myself.

Wrapping things up, what’s the plans for Running Back in future, and for Gerd Janson? You’ve done a couple of remixes as Tuff City Kids, but do you want to go into production, or?

Well, I respect some producers as a fan who have, to borrow Theo Parrish’s phrase, a “sound signature,” you know that when you hear them, that it is them. I’m not sure I have that in me. Remixes are a different matter, because you can hear them as a DJ and think, yes, this would be really good if I added this. Or maybe you just think it would be good [laughs]. I’ve bought some equipment, but it’s also a time thing. I don’t know. I just bought a MPC-60, there’s the hip-hop thing again! We’ll see.

And for Running Back?

A lot of stuff is in the making, as we speak. There will be another Mark E thing, hopefully another Radio Slave record, a few other bits and pieces. There is one by this South African guy RezKar including a John Daly remix that has just been released. I try to make sense of things in the sequence that they are released — to speak bluntly, not to put out two Radio Slave records next to each other. Different stuff, to keep it interesting. There will also be the first album on Running Back now by a fine woman called Mim Suleiman. She is originally from Zanzibar, lives in Sheffield now, sings in her native tongue Swahili and you have to guess who the producer is. I am quite thrilled to see people’s reactions on this. Then there will be a Databoy 78 record with a remix by the fine Swiss beats boy Lexx, a project by Marco Passarani and some more fun things! Maybe stuff will happen, maybe not. To answer your question earlier, this might be one of the fun things about running a record label, if you don’t have a business plan!

[Prime Numbers]

“A lot of people have to work. You gotta go home, you take a bath. A lot of people, you go home and fuck your wife. A lot of people go home, you cut your grass. I go home, and I fuck that motherfuckin’ MPC all fuckin’ night.” I was thinking about Kenny Dixon Jr’s recent eruditions on domesticity and art while listening to Fudge Fingas’ “It’s About Time.” It deals with the quotidian problems of part-time music making; what if when you get home from a hard day at the office, you’re are just too worn out, or lack the inspiration, to “fuck your MPC,” or for that matter, your significant other?

Gavin Sutherland (aka Mr Fingas)’s careworn Scottish brogue wrestles with the problem of finding enough hours in the day over a lolloping house groove: “All of my time has been taken up/With just waking up/And picking up the bread for each day.” Sutherland’s fears are palpable (“It’s been so long/Don’t know if I can still write a song”), but are swept away by the Carl-Craig-circa-“Angola”-remix synth line and the sweet plea of the double-tracked vocoder chorus: “It’s about time/We still have time/Try to make time/We’re having the time.” I’ve listened to “It’s About Time” over a dozen times, and I still can’t work out if he’s talking about finding time for his music, or for his partner, but nonetheless this is one the most tender songs about the daily ins-and-outs of relationships (either musical or romantic) since Matthew Herbert’s two-up, two-down masterpiece Around The House.

“ME & U” carries on in a similar vein, although this time the sentiment and the groove are less ambiguous. A stomping, almost glam-rock beat, call-and-response vocals and an arrangement similar to Herbert’s label-mate Brooks gives way to a succession of cute couplets: “Sticking with you/If I don’t I feel broke in two/If I break in two/I don’t think it can be fixed with glue.” “Mmm Hmm” is more familiar club and Prime Numbers fare, but still boasts a 3/4 time signature, glistening Motor City pads and perky synth lines to hold its own against the other two cuts, and make it stand out from most other contemporary deep house out there. My girlfriend made some vaguely disparaging comment about “ME & U” sounding a bit like Hot Chip (domesticity, eh) but for me the whole EP is some of the most charming house music of recent times. Apparently About Time is a precursor to a full album from Fudge Fingas; no doubt the subject matter will be everyday, but the music should be anything but.