Peter Kersten first tried his hand at producing in 2000, releasing his first ever effort on Dial, the label he had just set up with friends Carsten Jost and Paul Kominek (Turner). His melancholic, measured brand of house and techno has been consistent in its quality for more than ten years, thirty singles, five full length albums and around fifty remixes. In the realm of electronic music, maintaining such a consistency of quality is rare; having your first releases sound remarkably undated over this length of time is almost unheard of, yet this rings true for Kersten’s music. With Lawrence as his most well-known moniker — dedicated to his deeper musical expressions — he uses the handle Sten for his dance floor oriented material. Over the years, Dial has seen a remarkable run of releases from kindred artists like Efdemin, John Roberts, Pigon, Pantha Du Prince, Roman Flügel and many more. Its off-shoot label, Laid, has since 2009 done similarly well on a deep house tip, with memorable releases by Rick Wade, Kassem Mosse, Smallpeople and RNDM. In 2006, Kersten, along with a few close friends set up the record store and physical label Smallville Records. The friendly vibes and family feel of the store also extends to the regular parties they throw and of course the music that the label releases. Little White Earbuds got in touch with Kersten to talk about the longevity of Dial, which producers are exciting him right now and the forthcoming projects for his various enterprises.

You’ve been releasing music for over 10 years now. One thing that has always struck me about your productions is that right from the start you’ve had a very polished sound. How do you feel your own productions have changed or evolved over the years?

Writing music for me is a very spontaneous issue. For over a decade I have been digging a lot of styles — house music, techno, ambient, hip-hop — from my very first album to my latest CD, Until Then, Goodbye on Mule Electronic. I don’t see any straight line of changes, but I am still hungry for trying out any sound that fits. The new release on Koze’s Pampa imprint was quite an adventure, as well as my latest project, an experimental jazz band with Christian Naujoks and Richard von der Schulenburg.

Likewise there is a strong aesthetic running through the artwork that accompanies your albums and single releases, which has remained consistent in theme and style. Do you work closely with the people who are responsible for the artwork?

Yes, there is a close relationship to almost all artists who are responsible for the artworks of our labels. One of my very best friends, Stefan Marx, has done all the covers for Smallville and Mule Electronic. He even released his own “record,” a gatefold cover including three gorgeous posters. Our graphic designers Christian Doering for Laid and mainly Till Sperrle for Dial Records are doing an extraordinary, wonderful job, as well as all the artists contributing their amazing pieces. After running Dial Records for more than 10 years, we just started running an art gallery in Berlin called Mathew.

Dial has also remained a by-word for quality in the world of deep techno. What has been your approach to the running of the label in terms of keeping it moving forward yet retaining its consistent high quality?

What holds the Dial family together is the never-ending openness and curiosity for any kind of music. The musicians appearing on our little eccentric label are into so many music styles, whether it is contemporary classic, Norwegian black metal, or sine wave drones. Listening to African mbira music or some old Folkways records at Phillip Sollmann’s place, for example, is part of our influences for making dance music too.

With vinyl becoming more and more rare and less of a tradable commodity, can you tell us the reasons behind setting up the Smallville store?

Exactly when selling vinyl turned out being only a business struggle, including dumping prices on the Internet and discussions about downloads, Julius Steinhoff, Stella Plazonja, Just von Ahlefeld, and myself hardly missed the main points of running a record store: having nice selected music, a great interior setup, lovely people meeting in a cozy atmosphere. Finances are not our thing, but still its working quite well with doing the Smallville parties and printing Stefan Marx t-shirts, et cetera.

And how about the label? What is the mission of the label and how does it differ from Dial and Laid?

Smallville is a straight, deep, club label with focus on friends being part of it. Laid is a house music label too, including contributions by some heroes we love.

Have you had any formal musical training or are you self taught?

I am 98% self taught, I would say. Or let’s say I don’t know much theoretically about production — it still is a very intuitive process.

How long were you experimenting with production before you started making things you were happy enough with to release?

My first try ever was also my first released track, “Shoes,” appearing on Dial-00.

Since you started releasing have there been any major changes to your studio setup that have changed the way you make music?

Oh yes, I started only playing some samples on an E-mu E64 and Kurzweil [K]2000 using Cubase. For quite a while I am using mostly Logic Audio but the really important part of my studio is some selection of vintage acoustic instruments, including a steel drum and an old Deagan vibraphone.

In terms of your album releases, how much planning goes into your albums? Are they thought out with material written around certain themes or ideas, or are they more just a collection of tracks?

There is never any kind of master plan. When I finish a single track or an album I never see an approach regarding the beginning or a straight process. But surely the feeling behind it creates a whole piece of art, not just a collection of tracks. The same goes with my first mix CD, Timeless, on Cocoon — it was quite a long process to collect the tracks and to let them grow together.

Is there non-electronic or non-dance related music that you listen to that influences your own productions?

All the time I am listening to non-electronic or non-dance related music all the time. Schubert, Scelsi, Linda Perhacs, Jeremy Jay, Ariel Pink, Robert Wyatt — a never-ending list of music — that’s my life!

Apart from the remix of the Lawrence track “Never As Always,” it’s been a few years since we’ve heard anything from your Sten alias. Do you have any Sten material you’re working on at the moment, or is your focus on Lawrence?

The focus is on Lawrence at the moment — quite influenced by Sten though.

Your latest release has come out on Pampa. Did you make the tracks specifically for the label, or did you already have them completed? Are you interested in working with the label again in the future?

“Kurama” was intended to be the very first track of my next album. But then at one of the very sweetest festivals ever — the Smallville Open Air in August 2011 — I played back to back with DJ Koze, and he fell in love with that number. He constantly tried to convince me to have it as a Pampa single. If there isn’t any new album by Lawrence this year, it’s because of Koze. But I love him; I would even give him my last pants.

Speaking of labels, what have been some of your favorite labels in the past while apart from your own ones?

Workshop has been a top label for between-the-chairs dance music, I love all the releases here. The Kann guys from Leipzig are my favorites when it comes to cozy house music. Live At Robert Johnson, Underground Quality, Pampa, Aesthetic Audio, It’s, Sistrum — a lot of great stuff is recently coming out. I cannot believe that I am digging electronic dance music for over 20 years now and it never gets boring.

And are there any newer artists you’ve discovered lately who you’re really enjoying?

Richard von der Schulenburg, aka RVDS, is not just my favorite DJ ever — he is an excellent producer playing the keys of deepness all night and day. The Juniper boys from Manchester are the shooting stars of today. Kyle Hall is one of the most exciting newsters — wicked stuff. And Smallpeople, Moomin, Christopher Rau — the Smallville’s magic releases are getting me all the time. And watch out Kassian Troyer!

What can we expect from you over the next year across the board, from Lawrence to Sten and with Dial, Laid, and Smallville?

A Lawrence remix for my friend Superpitcher should be coming out soon. As I am still not deep enough into production for my next album, I’ll be finishing a new Dial 12″ soon. The Smallpeople will be releasing their first vinyl album this year, and I just can’t wait for it — it’s gonna be wonderful! On Dial we will leave the dance floor for some new albums by Christian Naujoks, Phantom Ghost, and a new project by Stephan Abry and Pantha Du Prince called Ursprung. The year will be started by 12″s from Kassian Troyer on Dial and a various artists single on Laid featuring Palisade (aka Redshape), Moomin, and RNDM. What a happy new year!

In a departure from the regular format of LWE’s Curator’s Cuts series, the 21st edition features some of LWE’s writing staff discussing five of electronic music’s prevailing trends in 2011, noting some of our favorite underrated tracks, and opining on what 2012 might have in store for us. Editor-in-chief, Steve Mizek, served as the moderator of a conversation between Per Bojsen-Moller, Steve Kerr, Chris Miller, Jordan Rothlein, and Andrew Ryce.

Curator’s Cuts 21: LWE Staff (67:34)

[Eglo Records]

Ever since Sam Shepherd released the instant classic re-rub of Real To Reel’s “Love Me Like This” in 2009, the producer has been on a steady roll, releasing a series of highly collectible plates for the most part on Eglo, the label he runs with Alexander Nut. Though his past releases have clearly reflected his studies in jazz, Sam Shepherd’s latest offering, released just a month shy of 2012, seems to be the most cohesive link between his training in the field and his penchant for electronic music. But there are also references throughout the double vinyl package to the UK sound he’s surrounded by; it’s everywhere from the broken step and rapid-fire rimshots of “Obfuse” through to the more obvious, plaintive melodies and stilted percussion of “Realise.” It’s also apparent on the housier tracks — particularly “ARP3″ and “Sais” — where the shuffling drum patterns and compressed rhythms are in line with the productions of many of the UK’s other exponents of bass music gone the way of house and techno.

Being the A-side, “Myrtle Avenue” is the obvious go-to track; it’s typical of Shepherd’s sprawling, house music writ large as a freestyle jazz session style he’s laid down before on many previous releases. I can’t help but be reminded of another producer who likewise has fused jazz sensibilities with techno; in “Myrtle Avenue” it’s almost impossible not to hear the similarities to Carl Craig’s Innerzone Orchestra work and his More Songs About Food And Revolutionary Art album. The track swings with the familiar pulse of Shepherd’s other notable tracks like “People’s Potential” and “Love Me Like This,” though where those tracks were more directly aimed at the dance floor, “Myrtle Avenue” skirts its perimeters.

For direct dance floor pressure “ARP3″ and “Sais” both weigh in with their own considerable might. The menacing nature of “ARP3″ is underscored by lighter melodies and also bears comparison to Craig — those insistent keys at the start of the track are quite similar to those used on “At Les.” “ARP3″ is largely a different beast, though, centered on the dark nature of its bass line and tempered by the melodic chord arrangements. “Sais,” which originally came out as a dub version on a limited run dub 10″ last April gets an overhaul here and may well be my pick of the bunch. The broken-beat and deep, mining bass line propel this bitter-sweet track, packed full of live instrumentation and machines affect by a human touch, “Sais” rates as one of the most “beautiful” Floating Points tracks to date. “Obfuse” and “Realise” act as the more experimental off-siders of the package. “Realise” carries a strain of major electronic infection from the early 90s, possessing dilated, ambient depth and a whisper of ill, proto-jungle deep in its core, while “Obfuse” is a sparse, dry-ice drum track bookended by tendrils of barely there, smoked-out synths.

Some may see only the similarities in Shepherd’s work, that he often paints with the same palette, and it’s true that many of his house- and techno-oriented tracks share a similar feel. But while the broad brushstrokes may be familiar, the details and the color used for each of his releases varies greatly from one piece to the next. Shadows exemplifies the differing sides of Shepherd and shows a producer who continues to grow, reaching greater musical heights as he does so.

[Shevchenko]

With Vakula having firmly established his faultless Shevchenko label via three killer self-penned releases, he throws over control of number four in the catalog to Edinburgh’s Linkwood. No stranger to effusive, late night house maneuvers, Linkwood provides three tracks full of his signature blend of disco, house and boogie that also serve as lighter relief from the moodier strains of Vakula’s own productions for the label so far.

Heavily filtered chords distorted to the point of abstraction lead the charge on the title track, forming a sort of nucleus for the other musical elements to group themselves around. These gradually emerge in the form of insidious, occasionally fingered bass notes, off-beat high hats and ascendant, sharper sounding chords periodically appearing in the mix. “Between Me & You” could easily be a remix of “Secret Value,” its sounds and melodies sounding so closely linked it’s hard to remember which track is which. If it is a remix, then “Between Me & You” is the dub, its tone slightly darker, more intense, signposted by the obvious Echoplex-like delays.

“Ignorance Is Bliss” takes a different approach, paring back the filtered rhythms and imbuing itself with the spirit of an early 90′s Strictly Rhythm release, its rising bass line sounding for all the world like it was beamed in directly from a George Morel or Aly-Us track. Wooden blocks sound off in a call and response echo to each other in the distance, while arching, mournful strings crest over an abyss of swirling vocal ahhh’s and subtle organ chords. Music that gives you a space to inhabit puts you deeper under its spell, something that these three expansive productions all do with ease. Another clear win both for Linkwood and Shevchenko.

If you haven’t knowingly heard a Legowelt record then there’s every chances you’ve heard from him under one of his numerous guises. Boasting more aliases than Frank Abagnale, Danny Wolfers first started making music in the early 90s, inspired by the likes of early Detroit and Chicago techno luminaries and his home-town heroes Unit Moebius. Known for his gritty, machine-driven techno and electro, his impressive discography is also noted for forays into ambient soundscapes, self-designed sleeves and some of the best album and track names you’re likely to find across any genre. His unique website, beamed directly from somewhere in the vicinity of 1995, is a mixture of information, music-gear adoration and banality that touches all the right nodes of any discerning music lover. LWE opened the lines of communication with Mr. Wolfers to find out more about his favorite bits of kit, why we won’t be hearing a concept album from him any time soon and what his favorite airplane is. He also mixed our 106th exclusive podcast, a blistering collage of techno, house and electro peppered with his own productions and divine obscurities.

LWE Podcast 106: Legowelt (77:09)

Tracklist:

01. BNJMN, “Open The Flood Gates” [Rush Hour Recordings]
02. The Abstract Eye, “Cool Warm Divine” [Valentine Connexion Records]
03. Trackman Lafonte & Bonquiqui, “Fortunes of the Lord” [white*]
04. The Abstract Eye, “Nobody Else” [Valentine Connexion Records]
05. Unknown artist, “Tristate Cruising” [white*]
06. Jon DaSilva ft Donald Waugh, “Love Is All We Need”
[Hour House Is Your Rush]
07. Hieroglyphic Being, “So Much Noise To Be Heard” [Mathematics Recordings]
08. Xosar, “Zephyr” [white]
09. Omar-S, “Nites Over Compton” [FXHE]
10. Legowelt, “Days of Persistance” [white]
11. Big Strick, “Fear No Fear” [7 Days Ent.]
12. Unknown artist, “Leeward Islands” [white*]
13. Recloose, “Tecumseh” [Rush Hour Recordings]
14. Trackman Lafonte & Bonquiqui, “The Feeling, The Force” [white*]
15. Unknown artist, “Voice of Triumph” [white*]
16. Unknown artist, “San Diego Marine Biology Center” [white*]
17. Hell Interface, “Trapped” [Skam/Musik Aus Strom]
18. Armando, “151″ (Terrace Mixx) [Djax-Up-Beats]
19. Aphex Twin, “Untitled” [unknown]
20. Exit, “Detroit Leaning” [Superior Elevation Records]
21. Danny Wolfers, “Microkorg string outro” [white*]
* denotes tracks which, as of the time of publishing, are unreleased

You’re famously in possession of one of the most saliva-inducing array of analogue music equipment known to mankind. Can you remember the first piece you ever bought?

Danny Wolfers: Well there are a lot of people and studios that have way more stuff, I just have a bunch of synthesizers and I really don’t care if it’s analogue or digital. You know, people call everything that has a knob or slider analogue these days or probably even if it’s just hardware. Last week this guy told me he heard someone praising the great, real analogue sound of the AKAI MPC! The first piece I got was a Commodore AMIGA computer; that thing has been more important than any synthesizer I bought. With a copy of the OCTAMED sequencer and a sampler cartridge you basically had a pretty good sampler sequencer workstation. A lot of my stuff, like from The Nomium Syndrome EP to Beyond the Congo, under the names Gladio and Polarius, that’s all made on an Amiga 1200.

Are there pieces you particularly favor over others, that will more often end up being used on your tracks?

Sure, the Roland Alpha Juno 2 synthesizer’s a real workhorse and the Yamaha RM1X sequencer, a cheap synthesizer/drum-machine/sequencer box but one of the best hardware sequencers ever made.

Did you always have a fascination with technology, or did this gear-fetish come to you once you started making music?

I guess boys always like technological stuff, right?

Do any of the newer retro styled synths interest you, for the ease of not having to keep them serviced regularly?

Yeah, they are way more interesting than old ones because most of the time they can do a lot more and are way cheaper, too. Like those Microkorgs, I’ve got three of those. They are pretty battered and falling apart from all the live gigging but they can stand their ground against something like a Jupiter 8, exotic sound-wise.

Your Astro Unicorn Radio show ran for a good four years, though you stopped doing that this year. Why did you choose to stop doing the show?

It just took too much time to do it every week. I spent two or 3three days a week on a show and after doing it for a couple of years I just got fed up with it and wanted to do something fresh and new.

You had some great specials on the show over the years. What were some of your personal highlights?

I think the documentary type shows were the most interesting, I guess. With the background atmosphere sounds, the Lomax-esque This American Life-style docos on FrequeNC Records, when we went into the forests of the deep south, or the one with Ron Morelli when we are eating pastries in a Mexican restaurant in Queens while you hear the rain outside, stuff like that.

I’m interested in your Unreleased America 1976-1992 compilation. How did you come across these tracks and was it hard to track down the artists to get them to license them?

I basically had nothing to do with it, it was all the work of Will Burnett aka DJ Speculator. He found all those guys and licensed it, I just released it. That guy could be like a detective librarian or something.

Also I’m interested in how the video for “Equestrian 707″ came about. The Weta people are very high-profile and I’m assuming not very cheap.

There was this guy Adam Larkin from New Zealand and he was doing some movie stuff in Holland and wanted to do a video for me. I said sure and I made the “Equestrian 707 trac”k for the video especially. So like one or two years later I was touring in New Zealand and the video was finished and he showed it to me at the Weta HQ. I didn’t have to pay anything for it because he did it for fun. It’s a crazy video with green pastures, horses, paranormal investigation centers, demonic creatures, etc. Pretty cool. There are two versions, one more explicit and the TV version. I think the one on Youtube is the TV version. I think they showed it on the New Zealand news after an item about Dolphin Trainers if I remember correctly.

Trawling through your discography and website I gather that apart from an obvious predilection for nature and animals you have some love also for aircraft. Any favorites you’d like to share with us, and have you ever flown on some more exotic craft than your stock standard air-planes?

Yeah, my favorite plane is the Dehavilland DHC-6 Twin otter. I also like Russian air planes like the Tupolevs and Illushins. I know Tupolevs always crash but they just look so cool. Actually for that matter the Illushin IL86 and IL96 are considered the safest planes in the world and didn’t crash once.

You’ve been making music for quite a while now but even so, the sheer amount that you have released is incredibly impressive. How often are you in the studio?

Every day from early in the morning ’till late in the evening.

How do you generally go about writing your albums? Are they concept based or loosely based around a series of studio sessions?

Well I just make tracks, basically. I really hate the word concept album, that sounds so fucking cheesey and toe-bending prog rock style. I would rather call them exploitation albums, like “The Rise and Fall of Manual Noriega” or “Phalangius,” etc. There was just this story or movie in my head and those albums were made in a couple of days in one flow. Nowadays the albums are just a collection of tracks I guess.. I don’t know, man.

What sort of music do you like to listen to in your spare time?

I guess mostly old soul music and African stuff, Detroit house too, 90s ambient stuff like Mixmaster Morris and The Orb.

The press release you wrote to accompany your The TEAC Life album was not just brilliantly original but also refreshingly funny. Ever considered a side career writing press releases or reviews?

Sure, hit me up.

What was your decision behind giving the album away for free/donation?

From the moment I started making those tracks I knew I had to give it away for free. I dunno exactly why or what but I didn’t want the music to be imprisoned on a piece of vinyl, these tracks needed to be free in cyberspace.

Have the donations actually financed you buying some more crap synthesizers or fixing your Juno 106?

Yes, the people have been quite generous, thank you very much for that again. The Juno has been fixed and I bought some crap keyboards from the rest of the money like a Casio MT520 and MT540 and MT640 which I already did a few projects with. They are like really ghetto house machines, like the drums are even cheaper versions of the RZ1 (Steve Pointdexter’s “Work That MF” drums) and they have really lo-fi house organs and strings and stuff.

What can we expect from Danny Wolfers and his many aliases in the next year?

I really don’t know, I hope to further advance my music with something fresh and new. I am working on some new material that pushes it a little bit further. Also, I started a software company called Pacific Micro International, it will release mainly audio applications and paranormal software. One of the products is called PACIFIC TAPE STATION and this will simulate the artifacts of cassette tape on your tracks, you can really push it far and make it sound all fucked up and saturated like half of your track has been disintegrated from the tape. You can also do E.V.P Electronic Voice Phenomena stuff with it because its emulates Germanium crystal diodes. Another product will be the PACIFIC LAGOON SYNTHESIZER which will be an easy to use VST plug-in synthesizer which can emulate very raw and organic analogue synthesis.

With the lines of genre distinction becoming ever more blurry in modern electronic music, it is becoming increasingly more difficult to pin down a producer’s sound. In the case of Luke Blair, recording under the name Lukid, saying simply that he makes electronic music seems like the safest bet, for the producer incorporates so many differing elements in his releases that listing them all would be an exercise in futility. The young Brit seemingly came out of nowhere in early 2007 with the immediately arresting album Onandon, and has followed up the acclaim that accompanied the long player with two further albums and a clutch of single releases. His earlier work had him pegged as a contemporary of artists like Mike Slott and Hudson Mowhawke, though his more recent releases, particularly those on his own Glum imprint, show a harder, club-based direction that is seeing him earn even more kudos from his peers and fans alike. LWE contacted Lukid and got the official potted history of Luke Blair, asked about his predilection for releasing albums and found out that it is the fear of death that impels him to create. He also compiled and mixed together our 104th exclusive podcast that showcases the wide reach of his inspiration and provides a damned fine soundtrack to your journey through the confusing mess that is modern life.

LWE Podcast 104: Lukid (48:07)

Tracklist:

01. The Fall, “Hard Life In The Country” [Flying Nun Records]
02. The Lines, “Come Home” [Fresh Records]
03. Owiny Sigoma Band, “Doyoi Nyajo Nam” [Brownswood Recordings]
04. Urban Tribe, “Progam 1″ [Mahogani Music]
05. John Heckle, “A Basement Interlude” [Mathematics Recordings]
06. Samoyed, “Klondike Rush” [Glum]
07. E-Dancer, “Pump The Move” [KMS]
08. Eric Martin, “Emergency” (Steve Poindexter Re-edit) [Muzique Records]
09. Lil Wayne, “Up Up & Away” [Cash Money Records]
10. North Memphis Playa Click, “Mac’s About His Hustle” [self-released]
11. Jon E Cash, “Cash Beat (AKA Hoods-Up-Dub)” [Black Ops]
12. Lukid, “Dragon Stout” [Glum]
13. 1991, “Reborn Ice Horn” [white]
14. Tapes, “Ghetto Rock” [white]
15. 1991, “1991″ [white]
16. Black Milk ft. Bishop Lamont & Elzhi, “Goatit” [Music House]

A lot of DJs and producers have elaborate websites all about themselves with the mandatory shot of them wearing some shitty sunglasses. In your case it’s pretty hard to find anything even resembling a bio, so perhaps you could help formulate the Lukid myth for us and give us a brief, fantastical bio now.

Luke Blair: If you really want to hear about it, I was born in North London in 1984 to Catherine McEwan and Leslie Robert Behr. By all accounts I was a lively and loving child until I sustained a severe head injury at the age of 8. I attended my local school, which was very big and in which I believe I managed to remain completely anonymous. I enjoyed English and playing football. I was a good student, but not outstanding. After my GCSE’s I went on to my local 6th Form College, where I achieved A Levels in History (A), English Literature (B), and Film Studies (B). During this time I was composing music in my bedroom using a PC and an EMU sampler.

On leaving school, I enrolled in a media course at a well known London arts school, but I didn’t like it and left after a month. I spent the next while making music, reading books, watching films and crying, in what are now known as my Wilderness Years. During these dark days I came to the realization that music was what I wanted to do with my life. I had received great encouragement from family and friends about the music I was making, and decided that I should study music technology at a university, because that’s what people do, isn’t it. So, I attended the Leeds College of Music from 2002 – 2004. Now, I know you want me to say I loved it there, that I’d finally found my niche, that after years of drudging through the educational wasteland I had at last landed in an environment where I, Luke Blair, would be allowed to bloom. I appreciate your sentiment, reader, but it was shit. Proper crap course. Don’t think I learned a single thing at that place. I did, however, meet some very lovely and creative people, some of whom I lived with, shared music with, shared musical ideas with, but most importantly swapped illegal music software with, on which I could sit in my freezing room in Burley and compose strange and depressing music.

I returned to London without a degree and without a fucking clue what I was gonna do with my stupid little life. What I did know was that the music I was making was getting a bit better, so I decided to keep on making it. After a while I sent off a demo to a few labels (literally sent them, on a CD, remember those, children?) one of which was Werk Discs. A little while later I released an album on Werk Discs, and here I am today, all these years later, writing this prologue to the “Lukid Special Collector’s Edition” of GQ.

What were some of your first hard hitting musical experiences, things that really touched with you and stayed with you?

Nothing comes to mind really. I always liked music as far as I can remember. There are songs and albums that had a big impact on me, of course, but there are no particular moments that I can pinpoint. I didn’t get into music through going out or through being part of a scene, so those moments that shaped the music part of my brain would’ve been experienced at home with headphones on or in the car with my mum listening to tapes or something.

How long before you started thinking that your sound was coming together and you were really happy with what you were making?

It took me several years to make any thing of any real quality, but I only really became happy with what I was making sometime last year.

Was Werk Discs your first port of call when it came to sending out demos?

Nah, I sent a few out but they were the first ones who answered me.

Although music of a more left-footed and bass-wise slant has been topical in the UK for some time now, your sound could more rightly be aligned with that of the West Coast US scene. Do you feel more of an affiliation with those producers as opposed to your English peers?

Not really, no. I guess the first stuff of mine that was released was in part influenced by people like Madlib and Dabrye and SaRa, and I’ve never really been able to shake that off. I feel pretty English, and I’d like to think that the music I make reflects that in some way. It’s funny, I heard my track “Dragon Stout” played on the radio recently, and that is very much a grime influenced track, which is about as English (and Londonish) as you can get, and the DJ said it sounded like it was from America. I give up.

Going by the statistical output of your albums to singles, it looks like we should be getting a new Lukid album next up. Is that fair to assume or sheer statistical coincidence?

You’re good. I’m putting the finishing touches to a new album on Werk just now.

With three albums under your belt already it seems like your productivity rate is pretty high. Do you feel your music comes across better in album form, that it’s a better setting for your tracks?

I guess the music I make varies in style a fair amount, so in that way it’s more suited to the album format. I can put together a nice little story with all the different types of songs. It depends on the output though, the Glum stuff for example is I think more suited to a 12″/non-album format.

How would you say stylistically your music has evolved from Onandon through to Spitting Bile?

Angrier.

Are there any artists you feel have really influenced what you do who may not be immediately obvious to someone listening to your music?

Mark E. Smith.

Or for that matter any other outside influences, perhaps ideas garnished from different books you’ve read, or funny shaped clouds you’ve seen in the sky, etc?

I was thinking about this the other day. I’ve answered this question a few times, about what influences me, and usually I just reel off a few names that will make me sound like I know what I’m talking about. But if I really think about what makes me get off the sofa and turn on the computer and make a tune, it’s usually either hearing another track that makes me really envious, or watching a film or something and thinking, “That guy (or girl) made that film off his (her) own back, he (she) could’ve just sat at home twiddling his (her) thumbs and watching tele, but he (she) didn’t, he (she) got off his (her) arse and made something amazing and now you’re watching it and it is affecting your life and isn’t that something good, and why are you just sitting here now and not being creative?” So I guess it’s jealousy that inspires me. And fear of death.

Your Twitter account has been a source of many laughs at the LWE HQ. Have you ever considered a sideline in comedy, perhaps even incorporating it into a live PA?

I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not, but anyone who has witnessed me attempt anything close to public speaking will tell you that this is a very bad idea.

What can you tell us about the mix you’ve put together for us?

Be ready to ride the big dipper of the mixed metaphor. Be ready to dip your hands in the lucky bag of life, gather the storm clouds of fantasy and anoint your own genius.

What can we expect from Lukid in the next year?

He will endeavour to make better music and be a better human being.

Anything you’d like to add?

It’s hard to live in the country.

Overnight success is a rare and elusive beast, though anyone might think that’s exactly what happened to the hitherto unknown Murphy Jax when his Mike Dunn endorsed debut release, “It’s The Music,” hit us with all the polish and verve of a seasoned veteran late last year. The truth is that the Berlin based producer had already been making music for several years, having released under a variety of names before settling on the Murphy Jax handle. Evoking the pure strains of Chicago house with a healthy serving of disco, Jax has been steadily turning on new fans with each release, so far gracing the likes of Clone’s Jack For Daze imprint, Turbo and My Favorite Robot. He is also behind the monthly radio show/podcast No More Pop where Jax and occasional guests lay down mixes both forward thinking and nostalgic, just for the sheer fun of it. LWE got in touch with Murphy to find out about his affinity for Chicago house and the journey that lead him there. We also coaxed out a hot mix of acid house that stretches from the early days of the little silver box and heads off far in to the future, making our 103rd exclusive podcast a freshly minted future classic.

LWE Podcast 103: Murphy Jax (60:38)

01. Adonis, “Lost In The Sound” [Trax Records]
02. Farm Boy, “Move” [D.J. International Records]
03. Mink, “What Does It Take” [Sound Pak]
04. Murphy Jax, “Untitled” [white*]
05. The Six Brown Brothers, “City Hall” [Serious Records]
06. Actual Guy, “Acid Emotion” [CNR Records]
07. Adonis, “Reck The Joint” [Black Market International]
08. Jared Wilson, “This Love” [7777]
09. Phuture, “Rise From Your Grave” [Strictly Rhythm]
10. Phuture, “Phuture Jacks” [Trax Records]
11. MC B., “Aquarius” [Dance Street Records]
* denotes tracks which, as of the time of publishing, are unreleased

Where did you grow up and how much of an impact do you think this had on your musical education?

I did grow up in a pretty small city, and there was nothing of an impact really. On the typical long way of searching for life’s sense and what to do with the stuff you love or like, I simply found out that it’s music. So I’ve chosen the hard way of becoming a paid artist, learned to produce, started with piano themes, went through new-wavy and early electro-clash stuff, and found finally my passion for old school Chicago house in combination with discoid and 1980′s style synth work.

You’ve got a very distinct sound in making retro-styled Chicago house and disco tracks. I’m interested to know though, what was the first electronic music you heard or that really inspired you to become a producer?

Ha, the first electronic stuff must have been 90′s dance, but the chart stuff didn’t really inspire me I guess, ’cause I was nine years old. But there I started to think about the music I listened to. So what inspired me was a bunch of stuff that I found out about much later. The late 70′s electronic music period, until the early 80′s synth wave did inspire me a lot. As well as music themes out of the electronic genre. Like those nice little groovy themes of “Beverly Hills Cop” that didn’t ever appear on any soundtrack compilation. The “Airwolf” themes and much more.

Were you a DJ before this? How long were you DJing for before you thought about producing?

Its not really about being a DJ or not, because at the end it’s just presenting tracks in a club. If there is a certain kind of public interest, and people do care about your taste, great, let’s DJ. So I pretty much produced before ever spending a thought on DJing.

And what is it about Chicago house that really appealed to you? What were your first experiences with it?

The original house stuff was always all around. It just didn’t catch me that much in my early days or production, because I was a bit chained inside some other genres. But at the end its the way of transporting a special kind of fun. A honest and authentic way of fun. As minimalistic as it could be from time to time, as authentic as it is. Looking at all that commercial house after 2000 or highspeed 90′s dance, I pretty much think that Chi-town house music with all its discoid and soul-like vocal influences as still the most authentic electronic music on the dance floor.

Having your focus on a particular sound like this can either pigeon-hole you or allow you to really explore the intricacies of what you do. It is an approach that STL takes in making his music and one that many artists have taken – focussing on a particular style or theme their whole career. What are your thoughts on this? Are there other unrealized sides of Murphy Jax to come out?

I am not that much focused on that style as it might look like. The period we are looking on is extremely short. It’s just one year. Nobody knows what comes later. My My Favourite Robot release, called Masters of Meta Space, was not Chicago styled at all. It was space disco themed. And I still have a lot of theme-like material which is great to listen to, but there is no label out there having the balls for it (as far as I understand). So we are probably looking onto a future album here. What’s planned and coming next is a hip-house release on Hypercolour, somewhere around December 2011/January 2012.

What equipment are you using for your tracks?

I am a strictly digital person when it comes to producing work flows. An exception are some own built synth modules and modifications and a 707 drum machine that I dig out from time to time.

And do you play live or do you have plans to do a live set?

Of course I do. That’s what I do mainly. On the old-school machine way, without any laptop action. Love the coloured LEDs all around me.

Tell us about No More Pop. How long have you been doing that?

I did start the No More Pop Project in 2009, and until then there is still no big intention about why I’m doing it. The major thing about it is pretty simple: combining the styles I like and put it into a nice graphic surrounding. And if I find out about artists who seem to have a taste similar like mine, I go for it.

Doing a radio show is quite different from playing in a club and very enjoyable in its own way. What do you enjoy about doing a show?

It’s the freedom to play what you like, when you like, without having in mind if somebody is dancing to it or not.

How did you manage to get Mike Dunn on your “It’s the Music” release? That’s quite an achievement for your first release.

That was actually pretty easy. I contacted him, showed him the track. We contracted it, and two months later he came up with that great chant idea.

How long had you been working on tracks as Murphy Jax before you had this release?

Maybe three months. Not more.

Your retro styled tracks are perfectly suited for the Clone label. Were they the first people you went to with “It’s the Music”?

They were the first and only. Clone got the instrumental version before I actually thought about getting Mike Dunn on board for it.

What can you tell us about the mix you’ve put together for us?

Its a different direction this time. After doing mixes for Dazed and Mixmag, I decided to do it the way I do a big part of my live set. Acid.

And what can we expect from Murphy Jax over the next year?

I work on a new track with Mike Dunn at the moment, and on some other material for 2012′s release schedule. Let’s see what happens, as I don’t want to create that big expectation for a follow up hit like “It’s the Music.” Unique stays unique.

[Huntleys & Palmers]

With embellishments coming from the likes of Ricardo Villalobos for Auntie Flo’s debut release, Goan Highlife, on the Huntleys & Palmers label, there have been more than a few ears tuned to the next installment from the Scot with Indian heritage. His newest release for the label’s second 10″ is already getting a solid hammering from a wide range of jocks, this time backed by the South African talent DJ Sdunkero who offers up further heat with “Choosing Love.”

“Oh My Days” taps into the vital vein of UK bass music while casually sidestepping the ravey elements of the genre by alluding to big beat influences. Its tribal drum patterns are meted out with a deft hand, proffering more of a mad party vibe than a dark, streetwise one. The repetitive vocal hook accentuates the rising synth lines, which hoist the energy of the track further, the kinetic clatter of the tribal percussion petering out briefly when the vocal chant becomes a rallying cry. Tightly compressing the sweat factor into a less-is-more approach makes the track seem a lot shorter than it actually is, clocking in at nearly five minutes but seeming somehow to end abruptly. On the flip, DJ Sdunkero keeps the fire burning with sweltering synths towering over a perpetual African rhythm, the concussive drums moving along at a tight clip. It’s the more contemporary sounding of the two cuts, though also not as unique sounding as the A-side. Regardless, Huntleys & Palmers serves up two extra-crispy dance floor biscuits with their latest, which will no doubt garner more attention for both of these artists here.

Providing an incubus of sorts for ideas and explorations about music rather than simply setting up a record label, Armon Bazile has truly forged his own path through his music. It’s a path that runs deep with a spirituality whose intent is felt on each record, whether that’s the otherworldly, downtempo electronics of “Moonstalk,” the soaring, spatial techno of “Ozzie Davis,” or the blissful, aquatic deep house of “Underworld.” Releasing his first pieces of music digitally on his own Deepblak label in 2001, Bazile’s big break came when a friend passed on his music to Ron Trent, who duly signed the young producer to the first release of the then-resurrected Prescription label. The two went on to collaborate as Indigenous Space People on the Prescription off-shoot Future Vision for a beautiful moment in deep house, “Across The Universe.” Since then Bazile has been releasing under a raft of different names and with an open mind towards the genres through which he expresses himself, has established himself as a true artist. LWE caught up with Bazile to talk about Deepblak, the perils of accessibility and why his label mates are more like brothers than musical peers. He also provided us with our 101st exclusive podcast, an intimate collection of past and future Deepblak classics that will slowly rush over you like a rising tide.

LWE Podcast 101: Aybee (51:10)

Tracklist:

01. Herbie Hancock, “Tools” [white]
02. Aybee, “Ozzie Davis” [Future Vision]
03. Aybee, “Nigg#z and Space Machines” [Deepblak]
04. Prof. Delacroix, “Build Her” [Deepblak]
05. Mist Works, “Common Question” (Aybee’s Immortal Mix) [Atjazz Record Co.]
06. Ron Trent, “Manifesto” (Aybee’s Blak Space Federation Slap) [Deepblak]
07. Orion 70, “Enki” [Deepblak]
08. Orion 70, “Blak Planet” [Deepblak]
09. Aybee, “Love Of” [Deepblak]
10. Aybee, “Solaris” [Deepblak]

You set up Deepblak ten years ago. Can you tell us what your involvement in music was before this?

Aybee: I dabbled in production as kid, nothing serious. It got serious while running a portal site that covered night-life entertainment where I began to start hearing things in my head.

You have talked about being somewhat disillusioned with music you were hearing around this time. Do you mean specifically electronic music from around the Bay area, or techno and house in general?

At the time I was taking in a lot of music from the different scenes and for the most part enjoying it all, but there was something missing. I never felt complete. It was like an incomplete sentence. I kept hearing things in my head that I could not sync.

Was there one final moment that pushed you over the edge and made you want to start Deepblak?

As I mentioned I would go out to clubs and come home feeling incomplete, so I would start playing around with my drum machine (an old Dr. Rhythm) searching for ways to express what I was feeling internally. After gaining confidence in what I was doing, my D.I Y. gene kicked in with all its foolishness, convincing me that I could start my own label. I remember going up to an early DJ mentor of mine, John Paul Shiver, at a tiny little night I had at a DJ bar and saying, “I think am going to start a label”. I’ll always remember, he looked at me with this little grin and said, “OK we starting labels now?” and that was it. That endorsement was all I needed.

How thought out was the label? Was it simply a desire to create something different, to find your own sound or were there deeper lying concepts and ideals behind it?

It was not very well thought out at all. I just followed a feeling. I was a recovering web 1.0 guy who was lucky to escape that bubble bursting without having a nervous breakdown. With music I felt like a child again, like the first day of school. I was spiritually changing — my life perspective was changing. All I knew is that I wanted it to be a home for creativity. I basically disappeared from society while within it for a year. I became a monk of sorts. I began to live rhythm. I began seeking a greater understanding.

Tell me about the rest of the Deepblak crew? Were they all on board from the start or have there been additions along the way?

The Oakland based crew is Afrikan Sciences, Damon Bell, Blaktroniks and myself. Our paths all intersected along the road. About 3 years in I found myself getting some head nods from the broken-beat community. One day I was contacted by Afrikan Sciences via the 4hero board saying that he was digging the vibe, and that he was living in Oakland. When I checked out his music I knew something was happening. I now had a fellow traveler and we proceeded up the road. Blaktroniks had always been around. They had been doing their thing since ‘96, and were a source of inspiration as I decided to pursue my path. They had been on Jonah Sharp’s Reflective label, had several albums out, and were seasoned live performers. The were very much a pioneering group in the Bay Area. If you go back and look at Oakland sonically in ‘96 you will not hear anything close to what we do. So it took a lot of courage on their part to step out to the world. Mutual respect between us was always there. One day we just asked ourselves, why are we not working together? We had a meeting at Afrikan Sciences’ pad in ‘07 with the now Berlin based Onyx Ashanti in attendance to figure out how we could work together. That’s when Blaktroniks became involved with the label. Damon Bell came into the fold after moving to Oakland from So.Cal. We became friends through our mutual friendship with Ron Trent. I knew Damon as a DJ, but he mentioned to me that he had been doing production. He let me hear some his stuff, and boom, it was a done deal.

And do they stand for more than being just artists on the same label? I get the feeling the ties are a bit stronger than that.

These are my brothers. These are the guys who lend you 20 bucks when you’re broke, or invite you to dinner when you are hungry. I have respect, love, and admiration for them individually as men. It’s life enhancing. I am humbled and forever grateful that I am able to experience this cycle with them.

I know you take some inspiration from your grandfather and your uncle who were both involved in music, but what were some of the first electronic tracks you remember hearing that really switched you on to it?

So much and so many. But I will say this: when future civilizations dig us up I hope they find Manuel Göttsching’s “E2-E4.”

And were there any parties you were going to that inspired you?

I have a wide ear so I would roll to a lot of different scenes and draw inspiration from many things. There was no definitive party or moment. But I will say I had a soft spot for what the drum and bass kids were doing in San Francisco. They had a lot of passion.

What were the first pieces of equipment you bought?

Dr. Rhythm DR-660 and a Korg X5.

Still on equipment, what forms the basis for your most of your tracks? Is there one piece of gear that you find indispensable for your tracks?

The basis for most of my music is emotion… life. The more I live the more I experience, the more colors I gain to express myself. The equipment is inconsequential. It is merely an extension of the spirit. Hardware or software I can use to speak.
When you started Deepblak I understand you took a year to shut yourself away and focus on it completely. Were you undertaking any kind of practical exercises at this time to help you develop your skills, or were you basically working solidly on making tracks?

I was trying to figure who I was and why — what was this rhythm I had inside and why would it not leave me alone? These things require sacrifice and isolation to understand. I think the primary skill I built in that time was listening and feeling. Hearing something in my head and trying to bring it to a tangible existence. I had no map. What I learned is that every sound has a soul. It has life-force, electricity, a few seconds of root cause. The greater attention you pay to the sounds the greater your ability to articulate your soul’s thoughts.

With the concept of seclusion in mind and developing your own sound, how much help or hindrance do you feel the accessibility to music and information is these days?

Access can drown out your voice. People have unprecedented access to everything, and don’t even know why they want it. As my dad always says they have “Text but no context.” The access is only reflective of one’s consciousness. There are amazing things happening and terrible things happening. This balance is ancient. The information age puts people on a hamster wheel of speed, acquisition, and transaction. The need to keep pace takes over, and they soon forget why they are running. Speed is often a killer for creators because we need time. Things take time. When you put the emphasis on speed context becomes expendable. Context is essential in finding what old jazz musicians call one’s “voice.” Take your time, unplug, and find yourself — find your voice. If you can find the discipline to do so I think you can use the access wisely.

From various sources (your bio, track names and your tweets) I gather there is a deep vein of spirituality running through your life and your work. Did you grow up with this or was it something you discovered yourself?

I don’t believe that you discover something that was already there. I think that we are ALL born with the answers and we spend our lives learning the questions. My path is my purpose. Everyday is another day in school.

How do you feel it informs your music and creativity?

It is the root cause. The source.

Can you run us through some of the aliases you use and what they mean to you.

o1o (Oakland’s 1 and Only) was a name I used for things slower in tempo. Afrobatik was more up-tempo staggered in homage to the jazz fusion things I love. Prof. Delacroix, honestly I just thought it would be cool to put out some music with a French name. Orion 70 was more of an homage to techno. Bla Kula was for underground remixes. Lamaj was deep, late-night house or what Ron Trent and I like to call The Brotherhood of the Baby Powder. Aybee is all of the above. There are others, but a good friend mentioned that I should kill that practice because folks were getting lost and he was right. So Aybee from here on out.

You’ve released two albums to date. Was the approach to the albums different? Did the medium of cassette for the Further release play a part at all in the way you made Ancient Tones?

Yes the approaches were very, very different. With the East Oakland Space Program album I wanted to put frequencies in the air to offset the negative ones that were suffocating my home town. That’s how it started, but by the time it came out so much had changed in my life, it became so much more than I intended. With the Ancient Tones project, Mark at Further Records essentially gave me a blank piece of paper, crayons, and then said, “OK, color and call me when your done.” It was so pure, that experience. Just coloring. The cassette was great because I knew people would engage in a long player format so I could really stretch out in a cinematic way. And I must a admit also there’s a great feeling going to a café, and pulling out a 20 year old Walkman with no reverse button in the midst of iPods.

The way Ancient Tones flowed, parts of it sounded quite like a live PA. Do you play live?

Yes, I do play live. It is the most exhilarating feeling. I stumbled into it last year. Afrikan Sciences and Blaktroniks were very helpful in that process. There is nothing like the pure horror of people looking at you as you build a vibe. That horror turns into happy accidents and excitement as you get the roller coaster going with no steering wheel. At least that’s how we do it. I will never forget the second live session Afrikan Sciences and I had at my apartment. We just plugged in everything and he started with a some crazy warped out sample and we built from there. One hour later he was murdering his upright bass with sweat dripping onto his laptop, I’m building beats, playing synth and anything else I could find. Pure madness that all made sense, just one of those moments where the stars aligned. We stopped and looked at each other like what just happened? We go to check the recorder, and we only had the first 10 minutes recorded. We just shook our heads. We always say God took that session. That was a thrill. I will spend the rest of my life trying to do that again. I am working on developing a monthly in Oakland around the concept of our live sessions.

You’ve had a few releases now on Further Records. Do they feel like a bit of a kindred label for you?

Yes! They could have been great label owners in any era of recorded music. They are the type of people where you can say, ‘I have a recording with beetles jumping into a bowl of buttermilk on top of my Moog,’ and they will be like, ‘Let’s do it.’ That attitude makes every artist better. Very grateful to know them. Good people.

What can you tell us about the mix you’ve put together for us?

Sort of a mini Deepblak sampler. A small trip. Dedicated to my feline Brother Stew who recently made his transition. Hopefully the mix is a little propulsion on his journey.

What can we expect from Aybee and Deepblak in the next year?

Albums from myself, Afrikan Sciences, Damon Bell and a lot of cool concept projects. More work with Further and others. More live performances. Continued study, evolution, and development of our voices.

Forming part of the very bedrock of techno, Juan Atkins’ influence on the past thirty years of electronic music is truly immeasurable. His first musical venture, Cybotron, with Rick Davis birthed such classics as “Alleys of your Mind,” “Cosmic Cars” and “Clear,” records which laid the foundations for what would become Detroit techno. On his own as Model 500, Atkins surged forward with his particular vision of electro and techno, releasing further classics in “No UFO’s,” “Night Drive” and “Starlight” among others. Together with Derrick May and Kevin Saunderson the three were responsible not just for a dazzling array of records, labels and aliases, but for creating a movement, a culture, part of music history. There is not much to say that hasn’t already been said about these pioneers of techno, so instead LWE tracked down Atkins to talk about new Model 500 material, some of his early influences and the music that he created that has come to define electronic music. He also provided us with our exclusive 99th podcast, which shows that after thirty years he’s still a vital part of the scene he helped to create.

LWE Podcast 99: Juan Atkins (62:53)

Tracklist:

01. Wehbba, “The Speech” (Samuel L. Session Remix) [Tronic]
02. Trevor Loveys, “Stay In Love” [Jack Union Records]
03. Lee Burridge, “Here’s Johnny” [Leftroom]
04. Smash TV, “World Wide Wet” [Leena Music]
05. John Selway, “Interplanetary Express” [Tronic]
06. Derek Plaslaiko, “Raw Jam” (Jonas Kopp Remix) [Perc Trax]
07. Room 10, “RM07.1″ (Pattrix Phiorio Remix) [Retrometro]
08. Marco Effe, “Zenheiser” [Break New Soil]
09. Carl Craig, “DJ-Kicks (The Track)” [Studio !K7]
10. Shlomi Aber, “Tap Order” [Ovum Recordings]
11. Internullo, “Taifas” (Alex Celler Dub) [Yellow Tail]
12. Shlomi Aber & DJ Sneak, “After Touch” (DJ Sneak Version) [Be As One]
13. Solid Gold Playaz, “Next Faze Of The Game” [Real Estate Records]
14. Skeet, “Come Back Raw” [Monaberry]

A lot, of course, has been written about your legend and the legend of techno, how it came about and everything, but for you personally, can you tell us a little bit about your sort of first brushes with music, perhaps some of the earlier stuff you remember hearing that made you want to be interested in music on a deeper level?

Juan Atkins: Well, I mean I’ve been interested in music probably ever since I’ve been born. I pretty much always knew that I wanted to make music or make a record, you know? I mean even from a very young age. I guess the first time it came very serious [was when] my father bought me an electric guitar for my 10th birthday, and it’s one of those with the built — I think it was a Slingerland — with the built-in amp to amp, and the guitar case was the same thing. You know, the amp was built into the guitar case. So I guess you could say that that would be the defining moment when I was getting serious about a career in music.

So who were the artists for you who made you want to be a guitarist?

Oh man, definitely from my whole music listening career there’s probably been Sly and The Family Stone and P-Funk. Sly and The Family Stone’s “Family Affair” was the first record that I ever bought with money out of my own pocket and going into the store myself. Before that my grandmother used to buy us The Jackson 5 Christmas albums. But I think probably Sly Stone and P-Funk, which [there are] a lot of similarities in those two acts.

I understand that when it came to getting into electronic stuff your first synth was a Korg MS-10. Was there a particular thing about that machine that made you want it? Had you heard it being used in records or anything like that?

No, I actually used to — there was a music store, a piano store called Grinnell’s, which is… actually my grandmother raised me from most of my young, younger pre-school era. And she had a Hammond B-3 organ, and she used to go into Grinnell’s and buy sheet music and get it serviced and everything at the store. And then this store had a back room for all the electronic keyboards, for the synthesizers that were just being introduced to the public at the time. I mean, man, this had to be, like, mid to early 70′s.

Wow.

Yeah. I was, of course, a very young child at the time and she used to take me in there, and I would go back in to the back room and play around, and the synthesizers they had there were a Korg MS-10 and a Minimoog, and these were the first affordable synthesizers that were available to the general public. They were monophonic, you know, nothing fancy, but these were the first small synthesizers that were available to the youth I guess.

And so did you play around on that and it just sounded really cool so you wanted to get that one?

Yeah, we used to go in the store and play, that’s the one they had in the store, so eventually when I was able to get one that was the one I got.

Yeah, cool. So your first documented music was with Rick Davis as Cybotron, but had you been playing in bands before that?

No, that was my first real authentic move, I guess you could say. I mean anything else was just when guys in the neighborhood, we would get together and, during this time, it was playing in the garage in the neighborhood, playing in the garage was a big thing. So we didn’t play, we didn’t have any I guess you could say professional bookings or anything like that or recordings or anything. It was just messing around. So Cybotron was the first real group.

At that point in music, things were definitely band oriented, even if you were making electronic music like Cybotron or Kraftwerk or something. When did you start to realize that things could be entirely self sufficient and perhaps also completely instrumental?

Well, you know actually I started — my first demos were done by myself entirely. So I was always with the concept even though I wasn’t using any drums machines or sequencers, I was using methods that were enabling me to record my own fully, I guess, produced demo. And I would use the record — they had a record at the time called Drum Props, and it was basically just a rhythm track record with just different drum beats on it. Like a live drummer playing out different patterns on this record. It was maybe 10 to 12 different tracks with just drum beats on it. And I would play this record, into — I had two cassette decks and a little mixer, a little PA mixer, and I would play this record through the PA mixer and then record a bass line and drums on one cassette and then bounce it back to the other cassette and keep adding tracks onto it until I had a full track.

Awesome.

So I guess you could say that was my first “one-man band” situation.

Did you see that, at that stage, you know, as a viable sort of thing?

No, actually the reason why I did that [was] because I used to get this magazine called Songwriter Magazine. I don’t know if they’re still around, but they had a contest, every year they had a contest. This magazine would sponsor a contest, and if you won, you won some recording time and a record contract and blah blah blah. So I wanted to enter this contest, but I didn’t have any band members to play with so I had to make my own track to get into this contest. I mean I didn’t win, but at least I was able to enter.

Thatt must have been really strange because nowadays, I know for myself personally and so many other people, have decided to start, you know, on a career in music, they’re influenced by what had come before them, and you’ve cited people like Funkadelic and Giorgio Moroder as helping to influence you. But in terms of actually making electronic music, there must have been very few people at the time where you were growing up who were doing it.

No, nobody in the neighborhood was doing electronic music. I don’t even think anybody owned a synthesizer. At this time, when these synthesizers came out, nobody really knew what to do. You had a couple of people like Rick Davis, who I met in college, that even knew what to do. The only people who had synthesizers, like you say, were Giorgio Moroder, Stevie Wonder, Bernie Worrell from P-Funk and he is who peaked most of my interest in it because of course it was part of P-Funk. But tracks like “Flash Light” and “One Nation Under a Groove” were almost totally electronic, you know?

Yeah, it must be so strange to have not had that help, in a way, of anyone showing you what to do. Nowadays you’ve got, you know, kids can go onto YouTube and see how to play the chords, even. They can see how to program, but I guess it was all complete discovery, wasn’t it?

Yeah, for sure.

And breaking all the rules.

Yep.

I guess from the era, in terms of things being quite band oriented, it seems like you’ve always liked to keep that human element in your music, sort of through vocals, and you can always hear that funk in there.

Uh huh.

Is that important to you to, as far as you can take the machines to always still have a human element in your music?

I don’t think that it is so much as a conscious decision as opposed to, you know, more of a subconscious thing. I mean I think that for me, for making music, I like a lot of my personality to come out in the music, and that’s part of, I guess, the beauty or the fun of actually making tracks or making songs is to see how much of your subconscious thoughts or subconscious creativity can come out in your work. So you know, by me being human, I guess by default there’s going to be a human element to come out in the tracks. But what’s fun is to make these machines, I guess, more organic. But being electronic and still being technologically driven and organic all at the same time, there’s sort of an art to that. Yeah, I think that’s probably what makes Detroit music, myself and Detroit artists stand out. Because a lot of people here, a lot of the other artists, a lot of producers kind of took that as the standard. You know, so when you listen to a lot of next generation techno artists they kind of took cues from what we was doing when me and Kevin [Saunderson] and Derrick [May] and Eddie [Fowlkes] did it. And you know, I think that’s why Detroit still remains popular.

Were you producing first or were you DJing?

It probably all happened at the same time. I mean like I said, my father bought me an electric guitar for my 10th birthday, and I don’t even think mixing records was even conceived at that time. The closest thing that you had to that, I think, during that time was the DJ on the radio that could segue a record into another record. But actually matching beats — actually disco kind of kicked that thing off because of the disco, the four-on-the-floor thing made it very easy to match beats. And I think disco probably created the whole DJ culture.

So when you started doing stuff with Rick, were you playing records?

Yeah, I mean I heard, you know, the disco era came in and a lot of the radio stations changed their format to disco and then they brought — the first DJ that I heard on the radio, his name was Ken Collier, he’s deceased now. But he was on a station called, they called it Disco WDRQ, and he was their house mix DJ, and the first time I heard him blend records — I mean I think he blended something like “One Nation Under a Groove” with “I Just Want To Be” by Cameo, or something. And it was just like, ‘Hey man, I got to learn how to do that.’ But that wasn’t ’til, like, late ’70s, like ’79 or something like that.

Now while you were making music with Rick, were you sort of amassing more and more studio equipment of your own?

Yeah. I mean the first demos — like I said, I was doing these demos, and by this time I was just graduating from high school. And I went to a community college called Washtenaw Community College, and that’s where I met Rick Davis. Now Rick was what you call a quote unquote “electronic musician.” But he was very isolated, I guess you could say. I graduated in 1980 so this was, like, the latter part of 1980 when the funk to disco thing was still kind of huge. So we were still under the concept of, you know, the whole thing was when you were around other musicians [you'd say], ‘Hey let’s get together and have a jam session.’ That’s the only way that you could actually still make music.

A lot of people weren’t aware of trying to do things with drum tracks or doing tracks on their own, other than Rick Davis. So when we met he told me, ‘Yeah, I been doing tracks.’ He was very advanced, way more advanced than I was. He had a DR-55 rhythm composer, which was the first Roland drum machine. Also an MSQ-100 sequencer, it was like an early Roland sequencer. And these things, I didn’t know anything about. I read the back of Giorgio Moroder’s album covers, and I thought that you had to be a computer technician to do this stuff, you know? But Rick really broadened my horizons and introduced me to a lot of the equipment, and he had all of this gear. He had ARP Axxe, ARP Odyssey. He had these sequencers and drum machines, I mean when I walked into his room, he had all this stuff situated in his bedroom, and it was like walking into a spaceship. Because he was keepin’ it dark, he would keep his blinds closed. So all you could see was these LED lights. [laughs] And the way the ARP synthesizers worked, they had lights all the way across — that was the setup on the board. And they had lights just kind of on across this thing so it looked like an airplane cockpit or something. Yeah.

[laughs] Awesome. When you guys kind of parted your ways, you formed Metroplex. Tell us a little bit about that. There can’t have kind of been too many small, independent record labels at this time, especially, you know, dealing in electronic music, or solely electronic music.

No, there was no other labels. And especially in Detroit, that was the only independent label, I mean, you know, Motown was considered an independent label.

But that was also huge.

Yeah. But I mean, yeah, but we used the same distribution. You know, we used independent distributors so you had other independent labels, but they were huge labels, still on independent networks. So I guess you could say this was the first electronic techno label.

So that must have been pretty scary because, I mean, as much of an un-financially viable option as that is today, to start an independent record label, it must have been harder then.

No, it wasn’t scary. Not at all, because basically we just had to have enough money to press the record. I mean it was because the record was popular because [The Electrifying] Mojo played the record, man, and it was an instant hit. So it wasn’t — we didn’t have any doubt about selling records, man, the records stores were beating our door down to get the record.

Oh, okay.

So there wasn’t nothing scary about that.

So was Metroplex kind of influenced from having had a brush with Fantasy Records?

Well, Fantasy, no, what happened was Fantasy picked us up. We started Deep Space Records, which was the label that we started to put out the first record, which was “Alleys of Your Mind” on the A-Side and “Cosmic Raindance” on the B-side. OK, that was the first record, and we came out with our follow-up, which was “Cosmic Cars,” and we used an independent distributor. I forgot the name of the company, but it was run by a guy named Bob Schwartz, and he was also distributing Motown and Fantasy and other independent labels. So he just called up Fantasy and said, ‘Hey man, I’ve got some guys here who are selling records hand over fist. You need to take a look at them.’ And next thing I knew, there was a contract in the mail.

Wow, excellent.

Yeah, so we signed with them.

Okay, so you had a positive experience with them, then.

Yeah, pretty much.

So there wasn’t anything to leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Yeah, no. That was great times. I mean the only… we got caught up in Detroit music politics between stores, like some stores were wondering why they had the record and this store didn’t have the record. And you know, we actually got threatened by rival distributors, like ‘Hey, if you sell to this guy, we’re not going to sell your record.’ You know, that kind of stuff. One distributor was in control of the one radio station and the other distributor was in control of the other radio station. So if you sell to this distributor and the other distributor doesn’t want to stock your record, therefore the radio station they are affiliated with doesn’t want to play your music. So we never was able to really have our music played on all the stations at the same time.

Oh okay. So when did you start playing around with sort of more 4/4 beats, what’s, you know, generally seen as techno now?

Well, I mean, you know, if you listen to the Cybotron album, there was a track on there called “The Line,” which was actually the B-side of “Cosmic Cars,” which was kind of a 4/4 track, 4/4 rhythm. It’s always been kind of — you know I’ve always been interested in that because disco, it was a big influence for me as well. Because it was the late 70′s, man; I was graduating back in ’80, so kind of like my whole high school existence was disco. Well, funk. Mid 70′s disco and funk was kind of intertwined, although disco was a little later. I don’t know if you can remember, a lot of funk groups started doing disco records as well. Yeah, that disco rhythm was always there, but, you know, the funk was there as well.

Yeah, sort of more syncopated.

Yeah.

So did you and Rick play live as Cybotron?

No, we never actually played live together. We did as — there was a festival in Ypsilanti, Michigan called the Ypsilanti Art Fair. And it was sort of the same thing as, just like a festival, but it was in a big open field, and they would do this thing every year at the end of August. And so we got up there and did a little thing. But we was up there with some other musicians so it wasn’t actually Cybotron.

But when did you first do a Model 500 gig?

The first Model 500 gig, I guess you could say, was probably 1995 when I did the 10 year anniversary of Metroplex. And we did a live show in an art gallery, which was in the warehouse district of Detroit, right down east of the Renaissance Center, maybe two or three blocks off the Renaissance. It was Mike Banks, Keith Tucker, and Tommy — I forgot Tommy’s last name. But the other half of Aux 88.

Oh right, Tommy Hamilton.

Yeah.

Okay, cool. Can you tell me a little about the different names you’ve used? Most prolifically, it’s been Model 500 and Infiniti, but some of the other names, your one-off few releases, Triple XXX, Channel One, Frequency. Did these others have a distinct flavor as well, or were they just kind of thrown in?

In a way it was like, when this technology came down it enabled you to do a lot of different things with all these different sounds and stuff. So I thought that, well hey, Cybotron had a distinct sound, Model 500 had its sound, so then also a lot of things that were done for collaborations with other people. Like Channel One was a collaboration with me and a guy named Doug Craig.

One thing I was kind of wondering about, I mean I know you guys all had your own lives and your careers were going in different directions, but it’s always seemed kind of strange, like, you and Kevin and Derrick are always cited as being sort of the birth of, or responsible for techno blowing up like it did, but you guys didn’t really ever collaborate that much did you, actually, on record?

Not really. I mean there were a couple of things, but we never really followed through for all three of us to do it. I mean and the funny thing is that in actuality we did collaborate a lot in the early days. I mean, like, records like “Let’s Go,” everybody was on that record. “Big Fun,” everybody was on that record. But we never really just sat down and credited everybody that was in the session.

Yeah. And I guess you all had your different directions, as well, didn’t you?

Yeah.

So when things really started blowing up and, you know, you all of a sudden get asked to DJ halfway across the world in Europe. Seeing the way that things were there, did that open up new avenues of inspiration for you and your music?

I guess you could say that, yeah, for sure. Nobody really anticipated traveling like that around the world, but definitely seeing different places and going to different cultures and things like that, it influenced you probably more subconsciously than anything. And then the spin that the UK and Germany and other places put when they started producing music and the artists came up, you know, there was a definite different spin put on the music. Like when the people in London kind of took things a different way. You had the jungle element that kind of came in, to me which was a continuation of hip house, which a lot of people kind of forget about. But there were a lot of house artists in Chicago putting hip-hop tracks on their house tracks, which to me was the palette for early jungle music.

Tell me about the first time you heard drum and bass, and how that made you feel, I mean did that sort of open up new areas?

Well, no, to me a lot of people come up with different titles for stuff and different categories for things that they just have to name it something, but to me drum and bass was jungle. I mean the first time I heard the term jungle was — I guess there was a time where Shut Up And Dance was doing — that was what I equated with that next step from hip house to, I guess it was kind of hardcore music, in a way. It was like rave, but then when the Jamaican kind of dub element came into it, it became jungle. And to me, drum and bass was kind of a stripped-down version of jungle.

Yeah. You know, I guess for a lot of Detroit guys, I can’t think of too many other people who have actually embraced that sound. I think from what I can figure, you and, I think, Sean Deason has played around with sort of jungle and drum and bass a bit. Was it seen any differently there? Like, it wasn’t such a good thing?

No, in the U.S. it was something that was kind of unheard of, and there was no audience, really, for it. There was no audience here really even for techno, for our brand of techno, much less the sort of evolution of it. So it was kind of like it was something totally new here. Even just a few years ago I would ride around and listen to this stuff, and people was like, ‘Damn, what is that?’

Wow, yeah. So has there been sort of other moments for you more recently where you’ve sort of re-evaluated music like that again? Like, there’s a lot of bass music coming out of England now has gone from half tempo drum and bass to dubstep, and now it’s gone very experimental. Is that an interesting thing for you?

Yeah, anything new or any evolution in music, especially when it comes to electronic dance music is interesting for me, on one hand. On the other hand, you have good and bad of everything, you know what I’m saying? You’ve got a lot more people dabbling and doing productions and doing music than ever before, I think, in the history of making music. So of course you’re going to have the amateur aspect to things, and just everybody that turns on a drum machine and a sequencer and a synthesizer I guess I should say should not be turning on a drum machine, a sequencer, and a synthesizer. [laughs]

Did it feel back when you guys started travelling more, and I mean this is probably more a question for Derrick because he was sort of a victim of it more, but when some of these English groups started sampling you guys early on and that started blowing up, I mean did you guys take offense to that?

No, I mean it was kind of flattering in a way to hear your stuff come back, that somebody would take the time to take your music and use it on one hand. But then on the other hand, the next reaction was, like, ‘Well, damn, am I going to get paid? That’s my music.’ [laughs] So it was kind of a bittersweet thing.

Yeah, yeah. What was it like working with the German guys like Thomas Fehlmann and Moritz von Oswald? Did they have a really different approach to music?

It wasn’t really that different. The thing about that was that they were really — this was at the time when a lot of digital, the really digital thing kind of came and swept in. You had sort of a backlash in a way where you had a lot of people that wanted to still use analog gear or prided themselves on digging up these old analog synthesizers and gear. And they were big on that. So as a matter of fact, like Moritz, his studio, Love Park Studio, was the first time when I’d seen an 808 and a 909 with MIDI on it, and so they had this interface, a box that turned control and CB gate and gate voltage into MIDI. So it was nice to work with them and the fact that you could MIDI up all these different old keyboards like Prophets and Junos and stuff like that.

And your personal studio, has that kind of always evolved with the times, in terms of what technology offers?

Pretty much, yeah.

So when did you sort of start using computers for sequencing?

We had one of the first systems, one of the first software-based sequencers was called Dr. T, which was run on a Commodore 64. I mean it had its glitches. It definitely had its bugs in it, and as a matter of fact, I went back to sort of a hardware sequencer because of all of the hiccups that software had. I mean of course they’ve ironed it out now, but that early stuff had a lot of hiccups in it. But the concept was good, though, because it had a lot of power. Because if you use the computer, of course you had unlimited memory, basically. And so it was a different thing to be able to use the computer with your sequencing. It was like, ‘Aw, man, we’ve got thousands of notes that you can record.’ This was at the time when we were first recording that there’s notes because each note took up so much memory. So the thing was, the selling point was that you can record 1,000 notes. A 1,000-note recording capability, this was the selling point of the early software stuff.

I know throughout your music, science fiction and the concept of space, things like that have been recurring themes in your music. What sort of other ideas have you liked to reflect on?

Nothing else, actually that I guess peaks my interest. Other than just thinking forward and moving forward.

I mean have there been incredible books that you’ve read, you know, that you’ve sort of thought about and made music because you’ve read them?

Not really. I mean, I’m kind of a spiritual person. There’s one book I read called The Game of Life and How to Play It. I forgot who the author was, but it’s sort of a spiritual sort of self-help thing. You know, it talks about thinking positive and being positive, and you know, you have to see yourself in positive situations before they can actually happen sometimes, you know?

Yeah, I remember hearing “Ocean to Ocean” for the first time and really figuring that must be quite a driving force for you.

Yeah.

Are there any aspects of your career that you perhaps don’t enjoy so much now as you used to?

Well, the major record companies have always presented a sort of a crazy approach to stuff. Because sometimes I think a major company, major companies are kind of too big for their own good, and they kind of lose touch with what is really out here or what really the people want. Commercialization comes in and radio controls it, and advertisers control radio, and it’s just a vicious cycle. So that has always created sort of a, I guess a dynamic to getting music to the people that want your music. Because I mean major companies, like, the whole CD thing — record companies are always promoting a progressing thing to of course help the major companies, and the CD kind of killed vinyl, but the independent companies and small labels thrived on vinyl. But it kind of upset the major marketing vehicle because the records– I’ll give you an example: Our record “Cosmic Cars,” when we came out with “Cosmic Cars,” we came out right out at the same time as Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” came out. And in the Detroit charts, there was a radio station that kind of had a chart, and it kind of controlled what Detroit was representing. Like, each city had a major station that had a chart. “Cosmic Cars” was number one on this chart. “Little Red Corvette” was number two. And, man, the record companies and the promoters went crazy because they were like, ‘Who is this? Who are these guys? Who is this Cybotron? We got millions of dollars of promotion behind this Prince, and these guys are beating us out in the charts.’ [laughs]

That’s crazy.

Yeah. So you know, when they came with the CD, that format kind of scrolled out the independent things so things like that didn’t happen. So we figured out how to make it cost effective to start making CDs. And then I guess it kind of changed, but there was a moment when the CDs kind of scrolled out all the independents. A lot of distributors, a lot of vinyl distributors, that was the reason that a lot of them folded, because the major companies killed it with the CD format.

I guess especially when you’re dealing with a format that’s good for DJs, CDs are just aimed at being albums.

Yeah.

So tell me about Model 500 now. When did you decide to re-form in the current line-up?

Well, you know, most of all the Model 500 recordings are me. I did [them] mostly as all just me, Juan Atkins. No collaborations with anybody, and when it came time to play live, I wanted to create a group. I wanted a band, I just always wanted the entity. That’s why I didn’t just go out as Juan Atkins, I called it Model 500. Because that was just something that, because Submerge, which is Mike Banks’ distribution company, was distributing a lot of Metroplex stuff, he would come to me and say, ‘Hey, man, I’ve got a lot of inquiries about a Model 500 show. Why don’t we get together and do it?’ And I said, ‘OK.’ So we just got together, me and him, and we recruited a couple other other guys, Mark Taylor and Milton Baldwin, and just hit it.

Cool. And so you guys recently released a new single, or earlier in the year. Was that a complete collaboration between everybody?

That was a collaboration. That was the first Model 500 collaboration. That was me, Mark, and Mike Banks. Yeah, “OFI,” “Object Flying Identified.”

And can we expect more?

Oh yeah. Well, I don’t know if it’s collaborative. There’s a new Model 500 that I’m just finishing up, the main track on this EP is called “Control.” And from all indications of early feedback that I’m getting, people are loving this track. So it’s like an electro track, something with my new kind of thoughts and ideas, my new sound on it. So it should be coming before the end of the year.

Excellent. Is that going to be on R&S as well?

I think so, yeah.

Do you still release on Metroplex?

Yeah, we may even release — this next single may have a joint Metroplex/R&S release.

Great, well thank you so much for talking to us and thanks for all the years of music.

Thank you.