[M-Plant]

Rightly or wrongly, Robert Hood is mainly associated with that most abstract strain of minimalism. Maybe this is because Hood’s body of work from the 90′s had such a hugely profound effect on electronic dance music that emerged in Europe over the past decade; but framing his catalog and passions against this narrow framework does the Detroit producer a disservice. There are a myriad of other cultural reasons and explanations as to why Hood has been cast in the role as a minimal techno father figure: these include the ongoing narrative of Detroit as the birthplace of electronic dance music, an unspoken need for the wave of mnml that emanated from Europe over the past decade to validate itself though tacit alignment with a true innovator, and the less esoteric explanation that Hood’s releases are of the very highest quality and caliber, with records like Internal Empire and Minimal Nation responsible for pushing techno music to its creative zenith. If it is possible to temporarily put these achievements to one side, it should also be noted that Hood also explored the gray area between jazz and techno — a path once also mined by Ian O’Brien, Patrick Pulsinger, Mad Mike and Dave Angel — on the superlative Nighttime World album, and his current Floorplan release goes back to his gospel roots.

It has long been known that Hood is a deeply religious person — according to pre-Internet techno lore, he used to ask the Lord for advice before accepting a DJ booking — but “We Magnify His Name” is his most explicit musical expression of this part of his life. Based on a rolling disco groove, it features a preacher man at the start, followed by samples of a gospel choir and a gloriously soulful male vocal accompaniment. Choice quotes include claims that “we are not worthy of his love.” It’s the kind of experiment that could go terribly wrong in a lesser producer’s hands, but Hood ensures, through the use of delectable disco strings and rave whistles, that it is a euphoric experience. “Baby Baby” is less of a stylistic shift and more in keeping with previous Floorplan material, with the stuttering vocal snippet that intones the track title welded to a tight claps and a juddering rhythm. Here too however, the perceived perception of Hood shatters as brassy stabs kick in and provide the track with great impetus. Finally, “Basic Principle” is a return of sorts to the Detroit producer’s more commonly known approach. Less visceral than recent M-Plant outings, the rasping percussion and insistent chord builds eventually give way to one his typically eerie organ riffs. Sanctified may end up in familiar territory, but of more importance is the fact that it reveals a new facet to one of electronic music’s most feted artists.

[M-Plant]

The last time one of Robert Hood’s tracks was remixed, the result was a disaster. Somehow, Freak’n'Chic managed to persuade the Detroit producer to let Shonky loose on “Who Taught You Math,” originally issued on Peacefrog on 2002. Unsurprisingly, the “if it ain’t broken don’t fix it” maxim never sounded more apt. This time, Hood’s M-Plant has done the recruiting, and rather wisely has selected James Ruskin to rework “Alpha,” the first single from Hood’s recent Omega album. Given Ruskin’s place at the forefront of white-knuckle techno for the past 15 years, this interpretation seems more subdued or muted than is his usual approach. Could it be that the UK producer was mindful of the task at hand and decided to play it safe? It’s hard to imagine someone of Ruskin’s caliber making such a compromise and anyway, it would be difficult to make the original’s stomping drums sound more intense.

While Ruskin’s version also features grainy drums, they are more understated and do not leap out at the listener like Hood’s arrangement. That’s not to suggest this remix doesn’t bring with it dance floor clout: the beats, though slower and less insistent, provide ample space for Ruskin to create an intensely-woven wall of spiky, metallic percussion and even add in some vocals, albeit ones that are muffled and remain in the background. Ruskin’s remix isn’t the only reason to check this release: Hood has a habit of making inspired use of B-sides — “Wandering Aimlessly,” anyone? — and this is one such occasion. “The Family” is vintage dance floor Hood, with a visceral, spiny rhythm soaring onwards and upwards, tempered only by thunderous claps. “Family” is worth the price alone of this release, but it is also worth acquiring to hear just how good Hood can sound when the remix job is placed in the right set of studio hands.

[M-Plant]

The conceptualization of science fiction through techno is nothing new, especially not for Robert Hood. As far back as his first albums, Internal Empire and Minimal Nation, Hood has posited the existence of other worlds, alternate realities, and supposed futures. His latest long player, Omega returns to this recurring theme, postulating a post-apocalyptic world of decay and decrepitude in which one man works to find a cure for a plague that has rendered any human survivors zombies. The basis of inspiration for the album comes from the 1971 movie Omega Man starring Charlton Heston, an adaptation of Richard Matheson’s 1954 novel I Am Legend. In keeping with the waste and burned out, outlaw society depicted in the film, Hood’s tracks are charged with a bleak, mutant desolation. However, where the B-grade Heston flick is soundtracked by a copacetic, funk/jazz accompaniment that sounds every ounce a part of the decade it was made in, Omega the album is cut through with an urgent, futuristic score that profiles the ideas contained in Omega Man rather than the style it was made in.

Hood captures his dystopian vision expertly; from the narrated intro “Alpha (The Beginning)” and tone-setting “The Plague (Cleansing Maneuvers)” through to the aptly titled “Omega (End Times),” he builds the music around his ideas. Much of the album sounds like it is written from an impersonal viewpoint; that is to say that tracks like “Think Fast” and “Towns That Disappeared Completely” feel like they are the theme music of the conceptual plague itself. There are moments that feel more like human expression: “Are You God?” reverberates with a searching, thoughtful tone, and “The Workers Of Iniquity” also carries with it a certain sense of being hand wrought. The bulk of Omega, though, feels like music is being produced by the stark, febrile world it depicts. On “War In The Streets” you can hear the crackle of digitally rendered fires burning, pulsing war cries of zombies bent on destruction, and on “The Family Watches” the staccato chime makes the synths seem to be transmitting in Morse code.

Hood’s minimal techno remains every bit as vital now as it was when he started making the tracks that coined the term. On the surface this album could come across like some of the more unforgiving sketches of what has come to be known as Berghain techno, though deeper meditation on Omega reveals that within the walls of Omega is a heart and moreover a funk. That funk is sometimes all that belies the human construction of these tracks, so good is Hood at conveying the bleak nature of the album’s themes. And it is that funk that separates Omega from being strictly a concept album to one that will also remain in plenty of record crates for a long time to come.

To factor the influence that Robert Hood has had in modern electronic music is no easy task. For not only was he part of the era-defining, second wave, Detroit techno militia Underground Resistance, but also can claim to be almost singlehandedly responsible for what we now term minimal techno. His Internal Empire and Minimal Nation albums stand to this day as blueprints for the genre that has since sparked ongoing generations of imitators with few managing to capture the raw essence of Hood’s vision. His M-Plant label has stood mostly as a vehicle for his own releases, though has from time to time played home to kindred spirits, and after a hiatus of some seven years was reactivated in 2009 with a run of new material and critical re-issues of classics from the vaults. In a career that spans some twenty years Robert Hood has indelibly left his mark on the techno landscape and to this day he continues to explore his particular brand of stripped back, haunting techno funk. LWE spoke to Mr. Hood about his new album, Omega, injecting faith into music and hearing the echoes of Motown through techno.

Let’s start with the new album. Lately you’ve been selecting pieces from your back catalog and re-issuing them. There may be some confusion about calling this album Omega and the title of one of your 2003 releases of the same name.

Robert Hood: Well the album Omega is based on the movie “Omega Man” and “I Am Legend,” so those are two separate ideas there, as the track “Omega” was taken from the album Wire To Wire and was just a B-side or a one-off from that album. This album is something completely different. It is talking about the end of times and it’s about the character Robert Neville (I don’t know if you’re familiar with the movie or not), but here you have a man who is trying to survive. He is seemingly the last survivor of biological warfare and he’s trying to survive the best he can and at the same time trying to come up with a serum or a cure for the plague that has affected these other inhabitants.

Was the music a metaphor for you providing the serum for a plague of not-so-great music out there?

No, nothing like that really. It was more me looking at if I was the last man on earth and chronicling that struggle; me putting myself in his shoes and dealing with my own psychosis and dealing with loneliness and dealing with a band of demented people who were out there to destroy me. So the music is me looking through the character’s eyes.

Is that something you do with your albums generally? Do you like to construct a concept behind them? Does that help you to structure a whole album?

Well yeah, I try to envision a world or an environment or a situation or circumstance and try to make a soundtrack to it, much in the way I did with Internal Empire. So I reflect and immerse myself in this environment and try to express that through the music.

You’re now living in Alabama. How does the more scenic surroundings go with producing something as raw and uncompromising as Omega?

Well you see it’s all in the mind, I just go inside myself and inside of my visions. When I was living in Detroit I had to step outside of myself sometimes and just observe the environment and grasp these visions and interpret them the best that I could. I would see life in Detroit as an observer. For instance on the Nighttime World albums, it’s basically observing urban life from a watchers point of view. So now, living in Alabama, I’ve had to go inside myself and pull out my imagination from experiences and imagining what life must have been like here in the South during the slave times and during segregation. It’s a process of pulling these thoughts and ideas and stories that I hear from other people and expressing them as best I can.

Your music has always stood out from the rest of Detroit techno. Can you tell us about finding your own sound and how conscious you were of making it so distinctly recognizable?

Well that was the first thing that I determined; I had to sound original. Of course I draw a lot of influence from a lot of other musicians and DJs; I also draw a lot of influence from a lot of film directors, from writers like Langston Hughes, from soul music, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, from lyrics, listening to David Byrne and Talking Heads. I determined that I had to identify with my own profile and not be like anybody else although I was made of many different influences. But I had to turn that into an original thought and an original vision. I had my own interpretation of electronic music and music as a whole; how I looked at love songs and traditional concepts and structures within all music. So I had to remember those things and at the same time take them apart and re-assemble them, so it’s just a strong identity and a strong need to be myself and not try to follow anybody else. The 70′s was a great blueprint for that; you didn’t have artists try to sound like and copy each other to sell a product the way we do today. We have this cookie-cutter idea in principal about music where it’s just a product and a commodity and it’s not art.

One of the things that has struck me about your music over the years is just how well it’s aged over the years in terms of sound quality. I remember picking up some of your earliest releases and you can still put those next to some of your latest material and there is just this clean precision of sound all the way through. Short of getting you to divulge your production secrets, what is your secret?

Well, listening to Kraftwerk and listening to Dr. Dre and people who take their time. You know, I really don’t consider myself an engineer in the traditional sense. In my opinion my ears are bad but I try to meticulously go through each sound and make them as vivid as I possibly can with the sparse equipment I have and just try not to clutter it up and try to keep it separated. Again, I’m not an avid technical person, I just try to listen as best I can. I just marvel at the engineers who worked on all of the Kraftwerk records and I just try to pay attention and to listen.

Throughout your career you’ve done so many remixes of incredible artists. What have been a couple of your favourite ones and perhaps ones that have challenged you?

I did one for a guy called DJ 3000, a Detroit native. Frankie is his name and he’s a very melodic type of cat and he has this pristine production too. So that was a challenge, to approach this particular mix and I had fun doing it too. It hasn’t been released yet but that was definitely a challenge. I had a lot of fun working on the Ben Klock remix too and it’s one of those records where it’s fun to play and it was fun to reassemble too. There was also a remix I did back in ’94 or ’95 for Ian Pooley and that was big fun. I still love that record today. I also did a remix of an X-103 project, “Atlantis,” and that’s one of my favorites as well.

You were talking a little earlier about being in to the sounds of Marvin Gaye and soul when you were young. Listening to your music, a lot of people wouldn’t be able to see the influence there. For you, how much do you feel that your minimalism draws on that legacy of funk and soul?

Well, for me personally, I hear echoes of James Jamerson (the uncredited Motown bassist on most of their 60′s-70′s hits). So the sounds that were able to take you into a place and a time after the riots in Detroit and give you a vision of an atmosphere that was like telling you a story. Isaac Hayes, for example, was able to give you an idea of life on the city streets through the “Shaft” soundtrack, so for me with minimalism, it was taking listeners into an atmosphere of Detroit the way I saw it; the grayness and the hopelessness. But through that hopelessness there was also a hope of a potential of what could be a bright future, of still having faith and hope. I think I’ve been able to do that through minimal music. It is at times dark and kind of sinister but then we’re dealing with reality, with situations and circumstances that are obviously there in our lives. We see what’s happening in Haiti, what’s happening all over the world with the environment, with wars and destruction but I try to evoke a feeling of hope and a hopeful future. And for me, with Marvin Gaye through songs like “Holy Holy,” “What’s Going On?” and “Save The Children,” Stevie Wonder’s Songs In The Key Of Life, that’s what I try to weave into the tracks that I make and I feel that’s been accomplished.

With that in mind, you’re a religious man. Do you tie in your faith to your music and how you approach it?

Oh absolutely, God is the source of everything I do, is the source of our existence and the source of our vision. God is a spirit and so are we; I’m just in tune with the Holy Spirit and I give all honor and credit to that driving force and am always mindful of God’s spirit. I think we don’t realize that we are all spirits but there have been times I haven’t paid attention to my spiritual calling and my inner vision, so to speak, and tried to do it on my own. But it’s amazing what a person can do when they are in tune with the spiritual self.

The ideas behind the early second wave of Detroit techno always seemed to me to be more than just about the music. Can you tell us a bit about the ideals you had and those of people like Mike Banks and Jeff Mills who you were working closely with and how they extended beyond just making great music?

Yeah it was all about reality and dealing with reality. At the time Public Enemy was out there pushing this idea of being culturally and socially aware about our surroundings and about ourselves. That was the main focus of Underground Resistance, whereas some of our contemporaries were more concerned about a fantasy landscape. We were definitely all about reality and that was the driving force behind UR. We dealt with the experimental subjects on the X projects. But when you’re living buildings that are burned out from the Detroit riots, it just seeps into your DNA and so we felt it necessary to chronicle this life in Detroit. You know I rode the bus with these single mothers that would get up at 6 o’clock in the morning in the dead of winter and would have to struggle, the Detroit struggle was what it was about. We tried to focus on documenting this experience.

I’m not going to ask you the same question about what happened with you guys at UR because I’m sure it’s very boring for you, but are you ever in touch with each other?

I don’t know if Mike and Jeff keep in touch but we see each other on the road and it’s friendly. I mean, we’re brothers and we have a tie and a bond, musically and spiritually. We lived together, worked together and travelled together and that won’t ever change. They definitely blessed and touched my life and I would like to think that I did so likewise, so when we do see each other it’s all love.

It must be really interesting having been in that collective that was such an incubation unit for amazing ideas, being able to see where each other’s careers are at, that you’re all still upholding these ideals you forged back then.

Yeah it is, and I was like a sponge, man. At the time I was just a young impressionable adult just trying to learn from them masters. It was like learning from Obi Wan Kenobi and Yoda, learning how to use the force. It was amazing to see how they worked together because individually they’re both such completely different people. Mike was this militant, raw street guy and a great musician, skilled on the keyboard and the strings as well as on production. And then Jeff, it was amazing just to watch him edit on the two-inch reel, it was like watching a surgeon and scientist operate and making these drum patterns, so I was just a greedy sponge watching all this. And then the way they thought and their concepts helped me to develop and it was just an amazing experience.

You continued to release music after M-Plant went inactive in 2002. What was the reason behind putting a hold on the label and the reason for reactivating it, too?

Distribution after 9/11, it was already going bad and the industry was just over-saturated and I was becoming disheartened and uninspired. So all of these factors were just starting to mount so I just wanted to take step back and put M-Plant on hold to look at another approach. Music downloads were really starting to take hold and put a strain on the market so I was very unsure about what was happening as I’m sure a lot of labels and producers were. Bringing it back was just a matter of time; I just needed to catch my footing and approach things differently. The new minimal movement; you have a handful of artists who really got the artistic properties of minimalism, but for the most part, 85-90% of them did not and are just going minimal for the sake of it. So we had to bring it back to continue to tell the story and to set it straight.

Are we likely to see a continuation of Drama and Duet and some of the other labels as well?

I don’t know. I’m thinking that over right now and I’ve got a new Floorplan EP coming out later this summer. I haven’t decided on the others yet whether I’m going to revisit them too; I’m just so wrapped up right now in reinventing M-Plant and reinventing Robert Hood and reintroducing myself and the label to this newer generation and rehashing the old relationships for those who have been down with me throughout the years. So at the moment that’s my focus and we’ll look at the other labels a bit later.

Let’s talk about some of the pseudonyms you’ve used throughout the years. A lot of Detroit producers have played around with different names and you’re no different there. Some of your aliases are obvious — for instance when you use the Floorplan moniker. But what makes a Monobox release different from a Robert Hood release?

A Monobox release is — well, I don’t like to use the term “intelligent techno,” but it is more experimental. It’s taken from a book I read when I was a kid, maybe 13 or14-years-old, about these aliens who came to earth. There was this black box that floated above the Earth for weeks on end. It was just this ominous box floating above the earth and the book dealt with the minds of the earthlings who were just trying to grasp what this box was. The diminutive sound that comes out of this side of me is very different from the more soulful Robert Hood, Minimal Nation sort of sound. It’s more of a cold sound, looking at art and electronic music from more of an alien, android perspective rather than a human side.

And what about The Vision?

I got that name from a comic book character from The Avengers and at the time it seemed kind of fitting with being a part of Underground Resistance because I considered myself a rogue member of the UR organization, a renegade affiliate of theirs. I saw myself as this comic book character.

Technologically how much has your studio evolved over the years? Are you more digital based now?

It’s still pretty much the same as it’s always been. I mean I don’t use a 909 any more but I still produce the same way but the gear — I never really relied on samplers that much. Only really with Floorplan with some disco loops here and there but I still produce the same way. Hardware sequencing is still my choice. The biggest thing I’ve changed is my drum sounds.

You’ve focused the bulk of your career on minimalism. Being very ideas rich in how you approach your records, after all these years do you find your music is still giving back to you and teaching you?

Absolutely, I mean when you’re in tune with where your wealth of creativity and inspiration is coming from then it’s a never-ending well of discovery and that for me comes back to my belief in God. On this Omega album I felt that inspiration coming from many different moments in time. I mean, there are moments on there that remind me of 70′s kind of David Axelrod feeling and then also a futuristic, sci-fi, cinematic feeling too. So I’m constantly discovering minimal grooves and percussion, bass lines, it’s just never-ending. I feel like I’m perpetually stuck at the age of 22. I feel like I’m growing spiritually and as a man but there’s this fountain of youth and my state of mind is constantly being renewed.

What can we expect from Robert Hood in the next year?

You can expect for me to work so much harder at expressing my spirituality through music and I want to take us to places we never even thought we could go. I want to express who we are as aliens, as spirits and I really want to expose and put out there that this is not our home, that we’re just passing through. So I really want to push the envelope on that principle that we are all spirits. Musically and spiritually I want to be able to take us there. How I’m going to do it I don’t know, but faith is not seeing the staircase but taking the first step.

After resting his ears and brain cells, LWE’s editor-in-chief, Steve Mizek, files his report on Movement 2010

As May rolls around each year, many dance music fans in America and around the world instinctively reach for their wallets and begin making preparations for Detroit’s annual electronic music festival, Movement. Although the festival has gone through many iterations in its eleven years of existence, this habit proved equally entrenched in 2010 as fans of all ages and from every corner of dance music culture returned to the Motor City to visit with old friends, make new ones, and dance until their feet threw in the towel.

Inner City. Photo by Bryan Mitchell for Paxahau

Slung across Memorial Day weekend, set outside in Hart Plaza, and featuring a broad range of musical acts, Movement is closer to a Lollapalooza style of festival than the substantially more niche events that make up the Mutek and Unsound NY festivals. This approach has its advantages and drawbacks. On the positive side, an abundance of acts assures that attendees will have their tastes will be catered to — however briefly — and provided alternates in case of disappointments. The all-at-once style also puts a larger strain on the promoter’s resources, and spending in one area (eg. adding extra talent) can mean less for another (eg. no free water in the VIP section). If attendance numbers are any indication, this format has grown increasingly popular since Movement first became a paid event, attracting a record number of more than 95,000 ticket holders in 2010, according to The Detroit News. Overall I enjoyed my time at Movement, but I suspect some of the fest’s shortcomings were the result of the give and take required to cast its net so widely, so quickly.

Martyn. Photo by Joe Gall for Paxahau

At first glance, Movement’s line up was spectacular, bringing together dozens of artists I’d long wanted to see, such as Ricardo Villalobos, Kyle Hall, Theo Parrish, Martyn, and many more. The reality was slightly less rosy, not least because visa issues caused Villalobos canceled his long awaited appearance. Many of the artists I wanted to see were also clustered around the same times, leaving me dashing from stage to stage in hopes of at least sampling both Cassy and Anthony “Shake” Shakir, or dOP and DJ Koze. I was disappointed with the line-up for the Red Bull stage, which was occupied by drum and bass acts for the majority of Saturday with only a token artist to represent the burgeoning U.K. bass music scene — and few would argue Martyn even remotely fits that classification. There were a few other lame bookings as well (is Booka Shade still relevant in 2010?), but the biggest disappointment on this front was the Movement Torino stage.

dOP. Photo by Paul Kelley for Paxahau

Inaugurated this year after Movement launched the Torino-based version of the fest in 2009, the Torino stage brought the total number to five and was comfortably positioned in a grassy area along Hart Plaza’s streetside perimeter. A long, nearly wall-less tent stacked full of speaker cabinets, the stage was looked upon with jealousy by those of us who spent much of the weekend in the tomb-like underground area hosting the Made In Detroit stage. Not only did the stage have a weak line-up, it was sparsely attended for long stretches of time when more desirable artists like Kirk Degiorgio were playing. Considering how full the Made In Detroit stage stayed throughout the fest, it seemed foolish to find it it once again relegated to an underground, concrete clad stage with poor acoustics. It’s a shame Paxahau, the promoters behind the festival, still hadn’t learned their lesson three years on.

The Moritz Von Oswald Trio with Carl Craig. Photo by Joe Gall for Paxahau

Keeping five stages running simultaneously and smoothly throughout the festival requires a large, skilled crew to handle all sorts of problems. Sadly tech problems were not uncommon throughout the weekend; and while it’s presumptuous to attribute these to Movement’s expansive size it certainly didn’t help that five stages needed attention. Where strings of sound dampeners hung from the ceiling yielded modest gains in the sound quality of the Made In Detroit stage, various gear problems left artists playing at inconsistent volumes, through turntables emitting obnoxious feedback (as marred Kyle Hall’s set), and without sound at all (during Robert Hood’s live set). If not for the quick thinking and hard work of an unsung hero like producer/engineer Kevin Reynolds, the Made In Detroit stage would’ve been in shambles. Gear problems also took a large bite out of The Moritz Von Oswald Trio’s highly anticipated set and decimated their audience.

DJ Koze. Photo by Joe Gall for Paxahau

For many electronic artists, events aiming to please the broadest range of fest-goers means tapping into the most populist part of their sound. Unfortunately few DJs do this well; it’s as if there is a formula dictating that for every hundred dancers beyond the first the music needs to be more visceral and less challenging or detailed. For example, Chicago acid pioneer DJ Pierre peppered his set with unflattering minimal house cuts that forfeited the momentum of his better, more acidic selections (and hearing him play Dubfire’s remix of Radio Slave’s “Grindhouse” was enough to make me walk away). Although this phenomenon was most prevalent at the usually minimal-focused Beatport stage, it also affected artists like DJ Koze, Kirk Degiorgio and Onur Özer who I expected to throw off the shackles of lowest common denominator techno/house but ended up embracing it in order to attract and keep bigger audiences. DJs like The Martinez Brothers reveled in the inanity of their music, endlessly milking the entertainment value of dropping the bass on their exasperating facile Latin house tracks.

The Martinez Brothers. Photo by Paul Kelley for Paxahau

Cassy. Photo by Paul Kelley for Paxahau

Thankfully, there were also DJs who played to bigger crowds without sacrificing any quality from their selections. Cassy, who opted for the hardest tracks I’ve ever heard her play, was especially successful in this regard. She satisfied her audience with a mix of techno bangers (seemingly culled from minimal’s first, Detroit-based heyday) and effortless, summery house grooves without veering into dry patches. Larry Heard ran with the acid house vibe his predecessor, DJ Pierre, couldn’t reliably deliver and kept the concrete bowl of the main stage relatively full. Martyn, an artist whose appeal is defined by his ineffable nature, kept his set varied and thick with hooks and vocals. Whether he was playing 2-step, minimal techno, wobbly dubstep or classic house audience his audience never missed a beat, even launching into crowd surfing during Adonis’ “No Way Back.” Derrick Carter and Derrick May also deserve praise for their canny populism, tossing classics like Paperclip People’s “Throw” into their minimally-inclined but decidedly funkier house sets.

Derrick Carter. Photo by Douglas Wojciechowski for Paxahau

Theo Parrish. Photo by Aaron M. Jones for Paxahau

Yet my favorite sets came from artists who tried to lead their audiences or seemed completely uninterested in crowd expectations. Theo Parrish was the king of the latter domain, weeding out those who were there for anything but the music with loose, free jazz cuts before launching into an eclectic mix of contemporary R&B, proto-house, new wave, remixes of Marvin Gaye, and a few of his own tracks — including his LCD Soundsystem remix. His ability to be recondite but irrepressibly fun made his set worth waiting the extra hour while he readied himself off-stage. Rick Wilhite was also good at confounding and entertaining audiences with a set that had as much to do with rock as funk, dropping remixes of Bjork between unusual old house tracks with a regal air to his posture while at the decks.

Rick Wilhite. Photo by Aaron M. Jones for Paxahau

Visibly frustrated but equally determined, Kyle Hall worked through a buzzing turntable to keep his dancers happy, finding common ground between jack tracks, old school classics like Cajmere’s “Brighter Days” (Underground Goodie Mix), and new, soon-to-be classics like Wax’s “No. 30003-A.” One of my most beloved moments of the entire festival arrived during a similarly diverse set from Anthony “Shake” Shakir, whose brusque transitions were made unimportant by his unexpected track selections. Those who doubted the dance floor potential of Kyle Hall’s “Kaychunk” were proven misinformed when Shake unleashed the cut to the delight of a packed Made In Detroit stage, dancers following along even through its beatless portions and throwing hands in the air when the kicks returned. I also enjoyed a deep and techy set by Patrice Scott of Sistrum Recordings and parts of the blistering techno churned out by DJ Rolando, an admired UR-affiliate.

Anthony “Shake” Shakir. Photo by Aaron M. Jones for Paxahau

The live PA is an arena that usually allows artists to avoid giving in wholly to populism because they’re playing their own material. Yet the biggest pitfall of live PAs is how they magnify an artist’s aesthetic weaknesses and require consistently engaging music to keep the ball rolling. This was especially noticeable for Martin Buttrich, who drew largely upon his debut album with all its indistinct arrangements writ large over an hour’s time. Much to my surprise, dOP similarly struggled to keep fest-goers engaged. Oozing charisma, vocalist Jonathan Illel did his best to keep the crowd pepped up with goofy stage antics, but the set seemed canned and unusually insipid for a group as stylistically diverse as dOP. René Löwe and Peter Kuschnereit, the men charged with keeping Basic Channel’s music alive as Scion, had a hard time building momentum behind their feathered dub chords and drones. Fans of Richie Hawtin’s Plastikman material were understandably thrilled with his rare performance, but I found his shimmering LED display more interesting than his straightforward minimal techno.

Plastikman. Photo by Bryan Mitchell for Paxahau

Of course it wasn’t all bad on the live PA front. Ryan Crosson and Niko Marks were more engaging, the former because his psychedelic style kept shifting and the latter because he sang along and played keys with his prerecorded tracks. Despite the rain and lengthy gear troubles, The Moritz Von Oswald Trio, who were joined by Carl Craig, gave no quarter to accessibility and soldiered on through free jazzy arrangements and dub-flecked rhythms. Kevin Saunderson and Paris Gray’s Inner City project proved to be an entertaining if predictable headliner for Sunday night, performing the radio-ready tunes that brought them acclaim without renovating much for the 21st century. But the granddaddy of all live PA’s came from Robert Hood. Dressed in his signature jump suit and tweaking a bank of analog equipment, Hood built impossibly complex rhythmic structures higher and higher before demolishing them under the weight of truly gargantuan kickdrum hits. Even when his equipment suddenly gave out he was quick to find a solution and launched right back into destroying what remained of audience’s hearing.

Robert Hood. Photo by Paul Kelley for Paxahau

The cure for the blandness of so many DJs’ festival sets was attending afterparties, which seemed to be held almost anywhere people could fit a PA. As we noted in our afterparty guide, there were so many going on it was impossible to attend everything you wanted without a car, superhuman stamina, and a fat stack of bills. But the parties I did attend offered such concentrated good times that I didn’t mind missing the Shit Show or the infamous boat party. The best party I attended was NDATL’s Deep Detroit at 1515 Broadway. Essentially the back room of a late night cafe, the space was perfect for hearing Kai Alce lay down some unconventional deep-house, one of the most perfect house sets I’ve ever enjoyed care of Larry Heard, and a James Brown-heavy set from Theo Parrish — not to mention the exclusive 7″ single on sale. That same night I tried to catch Ben Klock at the Centre Street Social but left disappointed as the long line I waited in was informed the party had been shut down by the police. This became a common theme throughout the weekend as the police shut down party after party, possibly in response to a number of shootings that reportedly occurred early Sunday morning. Early Monday morning I made it to the MetroPlex 25 party located in a gigantic building stocked with three floors of DJs. There I enjoyed an uniformly excellent house set from Eddie “Flashin” Fowlkes and a surprisingly decent and techy set by Kevin Saunderson, offering more evidence that the big stage mentality is only temporary.

Larry Heard. Photo by Douglas Wojciechowski for Paxahau

As much as I’m glad that Movement is becoming a truly popular destination for electronic music fans of all stripes, I’m also disheartened by what that’s meant for the quality of the festival. Granted any large scale event is going to feature DJs playing to the sensibilities of unwashed masses, but Movement’s continual enlargement has escalated the rate at which I’ve been disappointed by jocks giving in to these instincts. The addition of a fifth stage yielded very little of interest and was another slap in the face to Detroit’s homegrown talent who were without a doubt the festival’s highlight — even in an unfavorable venue. Focusing on creating a catch-all electronic music festival to sell ever more tickets has come at the expense of the bedrock on which it was founded. What’s more, the quality of the afterparties schedule that weekend made it easier for fans to skip the festival entirely and catch sought after artists in settings conducive to the highest caliber of music instead of what might work for candy ravers, guys in green body suits, and average fest-goers alike. I sincerely hope Paxahau and all involved at Movement continue to refine what works and show more respect for Detroit’s artists instead of relentlessly expanding. It’s a wonderful festival that I’ve enjoyed a great deal each year — including this one — but the reasons for returning for the festival itself are dwindling.

When the Detroit Electronic Music Festival started back in 2000, music festivals in general and electronic music festivals in specific were a much less common sight. Now the world is positively bursting with them, as scenes as farflung as Croatia and as close (for Americans) as Seattle and New York vie for clubbers’ frequent flyer miles. Detroit’s festival, now known as Movement, has had to step up its game to retain its dominance as the U.S.’s leading festival of its kind. For the 2010 edition, Movement has expanded to five stages placed throughout Hart Plaza, one of which is sponsored by its sister festival, Movement Torino. With so much to choose from, LWE has decided to reprise last year’s popular festival guide. Because the daily schedule has not yet been released we’re breaking things down by stage, so at least you’ll know where to be to see these incredible artists at work. Updated: Schedules are posted below.

Glacéau’s Vitamin Water stage

Plastikman photo by cuzinmank

The Vitamin Water stage is without a doubt the biggest (set in the concrete ampitheater) and fittingly hosts each night’s final headliner. Here you’ll find Richie Hawtin resurrecting Plastikman for his second U.S. appearance in many years, as well as live performances by 2007 headliner Model 500 and Kevin Saunderson’s Inner City.

Larry Heard

You’ll also find us at the Vitamin Water stage to see Chicago house legend Larry Heard spin, producer/comedian Kenny Larkin performing live, a dub-flavored DJ set from Mark Ernestus of Rhythm & Sound, New Zealand funkster Recloose, and a live set from up-and-comer Luke Hess. We might also check out DJ Sneak, Stacey Pullen, DJ Pierre, and Matthew Hawtin if time allows.

Red Bull Music Academy Stage

DJ Koze

There are few forces as powerful as RBMA within dance music and they’re bringing the goods to their stage next to the concrete pyramid. We’ll certainly be in attendance for the oddball antics of DJ Koze, the mighty improvisations of the Moritz Von Oswald Trio, the ineffable beatwork of Martyn, and pianist extraordinare, Francesco Tristano. We’ll also stop by for Kraak & Smaak, Michael Mayer, Jimmy Edgar & co., and Simian Mobile Disco. That said, don’t be surprised if some of your unexpected favorites emerge on the RBMA stage, as they did last year for us.

Made In Detroit Stage

Theo Parrish

There’s been a lot of talk about why Paxahau, the company running Movement, decided to keep the Made In Detroit stage in the underground bunker for a third year. Last year we ended up avoiding the stage far more than we would’ve liked because of its dreadful acoustics. Although no explanations have been provided, we have been assured by people close to the festival that the area is being acoustically prepared to deliver a better sound. With all our hearts and for the sake of Detroit’s treasures, we hope so.

Robert Hood

All that said, there is an abundance of reasons to brave the cavernous space: Headlined by Detroit masters Theo Parrish and Robert Hood (who is playing live), the stage also features DJ sets from living legend Anthony “Shake” Shakir, the “Godson” Rick Wilhite, Sistrum Recordings head Patrice Scott, rising star Kyle Hall, and UR-affiliated Rolando. We expect to stop by for sets from K.Hand, Punisher and Ryan Crosson (live) as well, and shake our heads at having Magda of all people as a headliner.

Beatport Stage

Do we really have to tell you? (Ricardo Villalobos)

Although his name was only added to the bill recently, one of Movement 2010′s biggest draws is the first American appearance since 2002 from mad genius/superstar Ricardo Villalobos, so you can bet we’ll make our way through the Beatport stage’s densely packed crowds to take in his headlining set. We’re always eager to enjoy a set from Cassy, especially if it’s outdoors, and we’re especially excited to see outrageous jazz/funk/house trio dOP in action. We’ll also be stopping by for sets from Radio Slave, Martin Buttrich (live), and The Martinez Brothers — mostly to see if the lattermost live up to the hype.

Movement Torino Music Festival Stage

Derrick May

Movement’s newest stage is sponsored by its Italian sister festival and is headlined by founding father Derrick May, who also headlined Torino in ’09. You’ll find us dancing to sets by Kirk Degiorgio, Orlando Voorn, and Monty Luke (live). In all honesty, we can take or leave the rest of the line up.

Updated: Here is the festival schedule:

Check out LWE’s Guide to Movement Afterparties.

[Infiné]

What kind of music would people like Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley, Robert Johnson, or Johann Sebastian Bach be making if they were alive today? Would they have stuck to their roots and continued to play the music they were famous for and helped make famous? Or would they have updated their existing systems and ideas, used the latest technology and reflected their newer influences? It’s highly likely they would choose the latter (if you can look past the sheer logistical impossibilities of Bach especially surviving for so long). A group like Aufgang may well present us with the closest approximation of what someone like Bach may have sounded like some three hundred years after his time. The combination of Francesco Tristano, Rami Khalifé — both classically trained pianists from the prestigious Julliard school — and Aymeric Westrich, a formidable percussionist in his own right, lends itself to an interesting new take on both classical and electronic music. Taken from their self-titled debut album, “Barock” is reinterpreted by Wareika, Mondkopf and Robert Hood who all personalize the track and take it in whole new directions.

Hood applies his sonic scalpel to the track, slicing and reconstructing with absolute precision. At first it sounds like just another day in the lab for Hood, crafting immaculate minimal mosaics, until he brings in elements of the piano from the original, taking the track to a whole new level. The inclusion of the bright, baroque piano line against Hood’s sterile, razor sharp production is one of the best things I’ve heard from him in a long time, and given the high standard of his output that’s saying something. French producer Mondkopf takes those pianos and slows them right down, burying them beneath layers of thick, gritty synths. It almost sounds like an electro house track on valium (and without all the terrible cheese). Wareika also turn out a superb remix, reinterpreting “Barock” into a sprawling eleven minute deep house track that may not show many obvious traces of the original track but shines nonetheless. The many textures layered upon each other are buoyed by a simple, clear cut bass line that helps to drive the somewhat heedless track. An outstanding collection of remixes for one of electronic and classical music’s most innovative bands.

[M-Plant]

Robert Hood’s burst of activity in 2009 was composed half of new releases and half of reissues. After reissuing the classic Minimal Nation Hood fired off a couple new jams (including the wicked “Superman”) before continuing the reissues with The Pace/Wandering Endlessly. Which leads us to M.PM number 5, the legendary Stereotype EP first released in 1998. Last year we noted the strength of 2009′s reissues, and Hood’s were a big part of that.

[zero a="Robert Hood" r="Stereotype EP"]

So what does Stereotype sound like? To be blunt, it sounds like Robert Hood. Of course, that’s not a bad thing; this EP likely served as (and still is) one of Hood’s defining records, which should give you a hint to its quality. A1 a textbook example of the loopy, repetitive and funky techno Hood is synonymous with, pairing a near perfect kick drum with analog squelches and percussion shifting slightly but often. Flip the record over and the B side struts in with more finely tuned minimalism and plucked strings, my favorite of Stereotype and possibly Hood’s oeuvre as a whole. B2 skips along with rhythmic high-frequency bleeps and slicing hi-hats to keep the momentum pushing forward. Hood’s philosophy is one of clinical perfection, using the fewest possible sources and arranging them to maximum effect. Stereotype obeys this in full, and inspired subsequent generations of producers with its manifesto that perfecting one bar of techno is better than focusing on any sort of breakdown.

[M-Plant]

While Detroit producer Robert Hood has enjoyed a renaissance in the past few years on the back of his exhilarating Fabric mix, the inspired Hoodmusic series and quite possibly a realisation in some quarters that what he has been doing for the best part of 20 years makes the mnml explosion look like a minor ripple in his vast creative depths, it was almost inevitable that at some stage he’d fall foul of a backlash. There have been rumblings about some of his gigs featuring pretty much the same records, often played in the same sequence, and Hood hasn’t helped matters with his last release, the effective but pedestrian “Obey/Resurrection,” which paled into significance when compared to most of his gold-starred back catalog.

Although he’s a gentle man, “Superman” sounds like a two-fingered response to such criticism. Fashioned around one of Hood’s trademark wiry rhythms, the title track’s pitch-bent hats and dense, rolling percussion provide the backdrop for a malevolently jarring riff. This is Hood at his brutal best, repurposing past glories to set the agenda now. “Range” is also rooted in 90′s sounds, its eerie organ riff and slamming backing come across like Hood’s Missing Channel side project paying homage to Jeff Mills’ “Solid Sleep.” It proves that when the going gets tough, mavericks like Hood get going.

On the reissue front, last year saw a new CD package of Basic Channel highlights, the Gas boxed set, and a repress of Model 500′s seminal Deep Space. Can 2009 match that? Six months in, looks like it just might. My picks for the five crucial reissues of the year so far is restricted to tangible products. This means I’m excluding some of the big mp3 arrivals of the year, several of which are news in their own right. In January, Omar S brightened my holiday malaise by making a healthy chunk of his FXHE label available through Beatport. Then, as spring turned to summer, Jeff Mills announced a gradual program to market some of his many career highlights in digital form, with value-added outtakes to boot. This year’s also opened up crucial back catalog material from Bine, Cache, Non Standard, Platzhirsch, and R&S to fill your iPod as well. As for discs silver and black, here’s what’s had me excited.

01. Robert Hood, Minimal Nation [M-Plant] (buy)
At long last, the spine that separated minimal techno lifers from tourists can be had for the price of a Best Buy gift card. Folks, this is simply one of the best techno long-players you’re going to hear. And if it weren’t enough that we can now revel in the “neutral potency” of the likes “Museum” on the bus, Hood has tacked on a couple of bonus cuts contemporary to the album, plus an entire mix CD. And if you need even more lean, robotic funk, there’s a new pressing of “Who Taught You Math” on, of all places, Freak n’ Chic. As Hood himself said, “In order to maximize the feeling of the music, sometimes we have to ridiculously spoil the listener with an embarrassment of newly remastered riches.”

02. Studio 1, Studio Eins [Kompakt] (buy)
Should you be in the mood for a more austere strain of minimal techno (or maybe just a more Teutonic one), this would be the chef’s recommendation. The latest entry in what I hope is an ongoing Wolfgang Voigt reissue campaign, this is every bit as raw and pummeling as Minimal Nation is funky. The tight, aggressive gyrations and morphing effects leave a dizzying impression, but these synthetic dub tracks are, like Hood’s, assembled from a handful of elements. Lucky for us this archival restoration is such a rumbling thrill to listen to today. For more information on why you need this disc, do check out Todd Hutlock’s review.

03. Rick Wade, Harmonie Park Vol. 1
[Funky Chocolate] (buy)
Rick Wade’s routinely jaw-dropping releases have a nasty habit of disappearing from the market. Funky Chocolate’s certainly done their part to help remedying this. The numbered title of their latest Wade package muddles things a bit, as this isn’t a straight copy of the first record on Wade’s Harmonie Park imprint. It does, however, contain the entire B-side of that 1994 deep house masterpiece, two Wade’s very best tracks. Impossibly infectious, the chords are thick and buttery, while the vocal micro-hooks deliver the kind of earworms that heads still haven’t shaken 15 years later. HP01′s “Nothing To Fear” and its DBX remix are tragically omitted, but the disco-gilded “I Feel Good,” from the second Harmonie Park plate, makes for one hell of a consolation prize. If this isn’t in your crate, your crate’s light.

04. Chez Damier, Time Visions 1 [Mojuba G.O.D.] (buy)
Similarly, Berlin house fiends Mojuba have just kicked off an all-Chez-all-the-time sub-label. The gently grooving A-side of the first release is brand new, but on the B you’ll find an invaluable pair of sought-after greats from the Prescription vaults. Trippy masterpiece “Sometimes I Feel Like” previously appeared on the unforgettable Hip To Be Disillusioned record back in 1994. The track here is technically an unreleased version, but I haven’t found reason for disappointment. The fluttering keys and urgent strings of “Teach Me, Keep Me” also first stirred hearts in ’94, when it appeared on The Gift, released under the Noni moniker. Fifteen years on, these tracks don’t seem to have lost any of their classy, energizing magic.

05. Jim O’Rourke, I’m Happy, and I’m Singing, and a 1, 2, 3, 4 [Editions Mego] (buy)
Certainly one of the most emotive, affecting moments in laptop naval-gaze, this rare electronic outing from Jim O’Rourke was ambitious and far-reaching, but managed a lightness of touch and warmth I believe surpasses that of any of the busy, multi-talented musician’s work. Ruminative but not cerebral, the album’s shifts from dread to whimsy to melancholy to glee move with the fluidity of a daydream. Out-of-print for longer than it was ever in-print, this album finally gets the deluxe edition treatment, tacking on an album’s worth of top-notch extra material. I’m unsure why Mego always insists on replacing the original covers but, as long as I waited for this reissue, I don’t dare complain.