[Still Music]

Authenticity plays a major role in the career of a musician. Those who remain true to themselves and their artistic vision are generally regarded in higher esteem even though they often may not receive the recognition or attention they deserve. A perfect example of this would be Rick Wilhite, the Detroit producer otherwise known as The Godson, one quarter of 3 Chairs, and one of the most underrated producers out there, who despite releasing exceptional house music for the past fifteen years is nowhere near the household name of his 3 Chairs contemporaries. This lack of public awareness is tempered by the critical acclaim Wilhite receives, and the release of his first album proper should go further to addressing that balance.

A vocal proponent of keeping a sense of tradition and humanity about his music, whether it is a DJ set or in his productions, Wilhite refuses to be tempted by the digital trappings of so-called convenience that have come to proliferate electronic music culture in the past ten years. To that end, Analog Aquarium is as you’d expect it to be: an album made entirely on analogue equipment that sounds all at once a timeless classic and futuristic. Wilhite even adds his own vocal and beatbox effects to the tracks, as he has explained he often uses his own voice to emulate various drum sounds and synths. Though four of the tracks from the album did recently get released on the Japanese branch of Jerome Derradji’s Still Music, for all intents this is all new material.

The strength of feeling in Wilhite’s expression is felt from the very first track, as Osunlade and Theo Parrish help him to re-interpret The Jackson 5′s “Blame It On The Boogie,” overhauling the disco classic with breathtaking finesse. The plucked funk guitar, burned out bass and mirage-like keys circle each other with a mesmerizing ardor, with Billy Love improvising large parts of the vocals and taking them to a higher realm. “Dark Walking” with Marcellus Pittman is lush, deep house that in many other hands would sound too formulaic, but the overlapping high hats, deep rubbery bass and evenly balanced keys all tie together with a dreamy, effortless grace.

The album as a whole is incredibly strong, but with repeated listening you get the sense it’s anchored by the vocal tracks, like opener “Blame It On The Boogie,” “Muzic Gonna Save The World” and “In The Rain.” In each case it is vocalist Billy Love who helps to make these tracks, also going a long way to give the album the personality that it has. That said, the vocals on “Muzic Gonna Save The World” are jointly provided by Sondra “SunnyB” Biar, whose voice cuts through the muddy, bottom end of the deeply pulsing, mid-tempo house cut, lifting it up out of the mire of almost subliminal funk. The instrumental tracks carry serious weight too, “Sunshine Pt. 2″ holding elements of Ron Trent’s “Altered States” in its brooding bass line, while “Deep Horizons” is summery, breezy house with flourishes of Latin percussion accented by minor piano keys.

Wilhite wears his influences on his sleeve on Analog Aquarium, showing just how closely related house, funk, boogie and techno are when seen through his Motor City eyes. The majority of the album is a mixture of the first of those three elements, but when Wilhite shifts into techno mode, it’s an unforced transition for the album. The moody, late night vibes of “Cosmic Jungle” are simplistic with only three or four sounds being used to create the feeling of narcotic unease, but no less effective for it. Sitting somewhere between Omar-S and Lowtec, it provides one of the two proper techno moments on the album, the other being the sparse, percussive-led “Cosmic Soup,” essentially a raw drum track with meager detailing around the edges.

But the lasting impression of the album and indeed why it grabs a hold of you is the very human swing of the tracks that no computer could have replicated; the rich, resonance of higher frequencies pushing through vintage compression, the obfuscated rhythms and melodies that lie half submerged under the pillowy low-end. These things mark the difference between a record that is hot for a minute and one that can be taken down off the shelf after twenty years and still stand up against the current wave. It is not something that can be mimicked or fluked, it is the primordial spirit, funk or soul that has inhabited the best of black music throughout the ages and one that is writ large all over Analog Aquarium.

Accounts of Theo Parrish gigs often begin with the enigmatic DJ clearing the floor. The jazz, Afrobeat, dub reggae, and soul records he is known to drop tend to startle festivalgoers and dabblers who have come to expect nothing but four-to-the-floor from a dance DJ. Read on, though, and it turns out that just about every Theo Parrish set ends with minds blown and booties shaken, those experimental jazz cuts moving feet as ably as acid house bangers. Once hooked, you may find yourself going out of your way to hear the man spin. It seems likely that Parrish would occupy the role of DJ’s DJ, a selector and mixer whose dedication to the art is matched by few, even if he had never put out a record. But Theo Parrish has put out some records. Since his first release on Kenny Dixon Jr.’s KDJ, Parrish’s own Sound Signature has become a buy-on-sight label for even the most discriminating DJs and fans. Keeping subtle, complex, emotional deep house on the map for the past two decades, he has developed his style while maintaining a singular aesthetic. LWE recently checked in with Theo Parrish, finding him as busy — and as brilliant — as ever.

You recently reached a potentially new audience with your LCD Soundsystem remix, a combination that not many people might have expected. How did that come about? Do you think the prevalence of disco and house-based sounds that labels like DFA have engendered is a positive development for the music?

Theo Parrish: They hit me up and their approach was attractive; they said pick anything you want and sent the full album in parts. I don’t really recognize any current production as genre specific, so I hear a head nod and a wink to disco in their sound, but it’s the ethic — the DIY ethic. That’s where the value is.

You clearly have one of the deepest record collections around. Where are your favorite places to buy records?

I know a lot of people with a whole lot more, but I buy anywhere and everywhere. Some spots, depending on what I find, are my favorite that day after being dry for weeks. Some are account drainers, meaning they are rarely dry. Favorite cities with lotsa diggin’ possibilities for what I like: Chicago, Detroit, Minnesota, Toronto, Kansas City, Cincinatti, Osaka, Tokyo, London, Manchester, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Berlin. Just google local stores in those cities and go get your knuckles dusty.

The records you became known for early on were often sample-based and tracky, while you’ve since then experimented with vocals, group improvisation, and other techniques. How has your musical style evolved, in terms of your approach to production and your understanding of your own work?

I get bored very easily. I relied heavily on samples simply for lack of equipment. As I acquired more equipment the creative possibilities grew. I was sampling less and learning to play, and started to get to know some talented live players (like Jerry the Cat, John Douglas, Duminie Deporres). I had to try to keep up with them in the studio — and prerecorded stuff doesn’t change on the fly, you have to program it to — so the idea of being in the moment and learning about the ever-elusive pocket came when I was working with The Rotating Assembly. Those rehearsals had a large impact. It galvanized the theory of dedicated practice to build skill. I then found it limiting to sample larger blocks of music, so individual sounds, little bits, became more of what I would use for my sound pallette, and then less and less. Then I would only sample myself, and get drums from multiple sources: records, keyboards, live kit. Then I got tired of sampling altogether. That went into playing everything realtime and recording it. That was a big step, and don’t really expect to master that, just only improve. It’s currently what I wrestle with now, along with incorporating the methods I have a moderate grasp of already.

Some of your most recent releases have been vocal tracks, from 2008′s Chemistry to the most recent records with Bill Beaver and Danny Banks, and your DJ sets always incorporate soul and disco songs. Do you write words as well as music? How do you collaborate with a vocalist or instrumentalist?

Depends on the vocalist. With Bill Beaver, he comes up with lyrics off of the top of his head. First take. You better catch that first one, too. With Danny Banks, he had a written song, and all I had to do with was work on his phrase spacing. He’s so skilled, he was running all these backgrounds. Some idiot put it out there that there was AutoTune involved: No! No bloodclaat AutoTune in my studio! Blasphemer! Listen to the damn song. Anyway. For Genevieve Maranttette, I wrote “You Forgot,” “Split me Open,” and for Karen Bosco I wrote “Melt.” Lakecia Hughes came off the top for “Summertime Is here.” Monica Blaire, as on “They Say” and “Second Chances,” hears the song, then writes, and an hour later it’s laid down — efficient. Alena Waters offers solid suggestions in arrangement that always make sense to follow, that provides places for her to sing around and with. Very intuitive. As for the instrumentalists I’ve been blessed to work with, particularly John and Duminie, I just tend to give them adjectives. I can trust their taste.

The Leron Carson release on Sound Signature, while widely loved, has been shrouded in mystery. Who is he, and where did the music come from?

Leron is a lifelong friend from Chicago. We came up in the same area. We started making songs at 14 or 15 years old, almost every weekend until I went away to college. The songs I released by him had been on a cassette he gave me and were done in those early years. He’s always been a sorely overlooked talent.

You’ve had a residency at London’s Plastic People, which has been under threat of closure. As the trend moves towards giant superclubs, where have you found that the best parties takes place, and what makes them special?

You can’t judge a party before you get there, so it’s quite random. So many factors affect any given night. The issue with superclubs is the lack of intimacy. Smaller venues solve that, but it’s difficult to find smaller venues with powerful systems. A small club with a powerful soundsystem is always a good foundation. You have the intimacy, and a good system allows a wider range of songs to be presented outside of their percieved setting. The people have a chance to experience a wider range of emotional connection or repulsion.

The Three Chairs compilation CD, Spectrum, gave a lot of listeners a chance to catch up some hard-to-find records. Will there be more releases from the group in the future?

We shall see…

What else can we expect from Sound Signature in 2010?

Sketches. Sketches is a concept I came up with for some unreleased material I mastered without the songs being complete with all the elements. It was an experiment to force myself to get back to some basic production ethics I wanted to reacquaint myself with. It will be available only in Detroit for festival time, and I am only doing 150 copies and four separate pieces of vinyl, each one with a differently painted jacket. The only songs that may reappear on later 12″s this year are “Something About Detroit,” “Thumpasaurus,” and “Kites On Pluto.” I’m playing them out now to see which ones need more or can be released as is. Coming soon is the Sound Signature Sounds Pt. 2 compilation CD including Sound Signatures titles only available on vinyl from the catalog, and Translations, a CD comp of remixes and edits that are no longer available or previously unreleased.

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.

[Sound Signature]

Few contemporary producers elicit unqualified, borderline worshipful praise quite like Theo Parrish. The mere mention of his name is enough to cause the eyes of house-heads to glaze over as they exhale the longest, most reverent “Ohhhhhh, dude” imaginable. The cynic in you refuses to believe that any producer, let alone one working today, could live up to this sort of breathlessness, but Parrish — now well into the second decade of his discography — consistently does. I often wonder if his sounding like practically no one else is a function of him understanding house better than practically everyone else: whether in the slow shuffle of his Sound Signature 12″s or the unbridled eclecticism of his legendary DJ sets, Parrish commits to the groove with a warmth, adventurousness, and veritable taxonomy of influences that makes him the standard-bearer for so many of us who love this music. I could keep talking about Theo for the next three days, but I haven’t mentioned Billy Love’s new doublepack for Sound Signature yet, and I’m pretty sure my eyes are starting to glaze over.

Given the feelings elucidated above, it’s unfortunate but inevitable and probably not a huge tragedy that Billy Love’s latest, the four-sided Melloghettomental, will be discussed as a new Theo Parrish record. As Love, born William Beaver, showed on the Rotating Assembly’s classic “Seasons Of My Life,” dude can carry a tune soulfully and dependably, all the while sounding like not much more than a stand-in for Stevie Wonder. But I’m not sure you’d want a more distinctive voice vying for your attention when faced with such sublime instrumentals. Melloghettomental is billed as a collaboration, but Love’s voice just feels like another instrument in Parrish’s orchestra. Judged as a collection of Theo Parrish productions, Melloghettomental is one-quarter exceptional, one-quarter excellent, and one-half not bad. A-side “Can’t Keep Running Away” is the unabashed stunner. Love’s voice recedes relatively far into the background amid Parrish’s slowly modulating drums and minimalist piano chords. It’s far more straightforward and emotive than Parrish’s recent bassbin-rattling remix of LCD Soundsystem’s “45:33″ or the ultra-grim “Major Moments Of Instant Insanity,” but it’s no less ambitious. For me, “Can’t Keep Running Away” slots perfectly with vintage Theo Parrish and on its own justifies the price of this set.

The doublepack’s mid-section, “U Bring Me Up” and “Why Wait,” feels a touch average by Parrish’s standards. “U Bring Me Up” suffers from lack of focus or inventiveness, with Love’s vocals and Parrish’s arrangement feeling lost among each other. Bouncy and uptempo for Theo, “Why Wait” could only use to run on a bit longer: the tart Rhodes, loping and awesomely irregular percussion, and some of the set’s best vocal work end far too abruptly for how good they are. The title cut returns Parrish and Love to form. Sultry and stoney, “Melloghettomental” finds the duo at their sexiest, heaviest, and maybe poppiest. While it fails to reach the heights of Parrish’s greatest doublepack, Parallel Dimensions, Melloghettomental is compelling enough to keep both longtime followers and casual fans “ohhhhhh, dude”-ing ’til sunrise.

09. LCD Soundsystem, “45:33″ (Theo Parrish Remix)
[DFA] (buy)
The first time I (unknowingly) heard Theo Parrish’s remix of LCD Soundsystem’s “45:33″ was in July almost two years ago in London’s Plastic People at one of Mr Parrish’s monthly residencies. Frankly bizarre, even by Parrish’s standards, it had a stumbling, drunk groove, only held together by a chorus that I thought went “Feels so gooooood, when your body’s loose” (let’s just say my body was pretty loose). The next day, mindblown and hungover, and assuming it was an old disco tune, warped and welded to Theo’s template by his extreme EQ-ing, I turned to the famed truffle pigs at the DJ History forum, but even they couldn’t help out. I put the record on the mental pile marked “amazing but forever lost.” Fast forward to September this year, and I was idly listening to new stuff on Honest Jon’s website when I heard something familiarly unfamiliar. Turns out I completely misheard the lyrics (“Feels so flyyyy, when you’re out in space”) but this interstellar jam was no less brilliant than when I first heard it. Opening with steady snares, Theo’s ten-minute “Space Cadet” discombobulation of James Murphy’s Nike-sponsored work-out never stops sounding extraterrestrial. Echo, keys, stubby synths, a rambling monologue, hell, I think I even heard the kitchen sink make an appearance towards the end. The weirdest and wildest of Theo’s weird and wild oeuvre, it’s also one of his most anthemic. Well worth the wait. (Peder Clark)

08. Rainer Trueby, “To Know You” [N/A] (buy)
Long ago, re-edits were relatively simple, cut-and-tape, studio operations that put the good times right where the DJ needed them. Circa 2009, things aren’t as straightforward. In the Ableton age, edits are technically simpler to make, making them theoretically more difficult to pull off. The original and its merit are undercut as often as they’re overstepped, proving the effortless balance of Rainer Trüby and Danilo Plessow’s “To Know You” all the more impressive. Their elegant use of such a simple sample satisfies the aficionado’s concern for contextual constraint, while the complex accompaniment implies a theoretical commitment to the edit you know we’d all love to hear more often. (Andrew Clapper)

07. Walter Jones, “Living Without Your Love”
[DFA] (buy)
Walter Jones may not have had a prolific 2009, but by my count one for one is still a 100% success rate. That an artist could release a single EP and still stand out among the unremitting flow of new records that managed to take up browser and shelf space this year is something of an accomplishment. I had a tough time picking between both sides of this record, and although “I’ll Keep On Loving You” and I go way back (to when it was just a demo on Jones’ Myspace page years ago and he was kind enough to send me low bit-rate version to tide me over), “Living Without Your Love” connected on more levels with less resources. It manages to freely maneuver within disco and house idioms without seeming overly derivative. Contrary to some stories, Jones did not sing on this song, instead employing a fellow art school student to sing the lyrics. Never mind that it doesn’t have a chorus or that there’s only one lyric (“Live without your looove”) repeated throughout; it’s the phrasing placed on the words and the placement within the song that give it currency. Jones lays down a bass line dripping with funk while the lead synth dictates a moody and yet uplifting melody, finished off by rhythm guitar from Juju of Juju & Jordash. It all came together to form a song that left disco-fetishists drooling for more, but as the rest of the year would show it never came. A sign of Jones’ extremely high level of quality control, saving us from a string of merely good releases, and allowing us to savor one helluva great song. (Kuri Kondrak)

06. Joker, “Digidesign” [Hyperdub] (buy)
Even Joker’s most rabid champions must’ve been taken aback when Hyperdub left this brash trunk-rattler on the doorstep. A sizzling reunion of electro and hip-hop, DJ Quik and Timbaland both figured into the “Digidesign,” but this was no pony ride. The kicks, clacks, and boings moving at a stop-start jerk, numb bass lines pursued darting surges of what sounded like a bug-zapper while, overhead, swirling video game trills battled for space with inebriated wails of pitch-bent pads. And then there was that bratty keyboard melody, the sort of chorus audiences couldn’t help but sing along with. If it burst out the speakers as the Bristol boy wonder’s most distinctive creation, only a few months later we’re casually calling it a masterpiece. (Chris Burkhalter)

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[Sound Signature]

Though “Red Lightbulb Theory” has been charted by, among others, Lawrence and Tama Sumo, and comes “highly recommended” at nearly every vinyl outlet, one wonders if anyone besides Theo Parrish, whose Sound Signature label put the record out, and Omar-S, who is credited with engineering and editing work, knows just who the hell Leron Carson is. Dude has the sparsest Discogs entry I’ve ever seen, with only one previous release listed: the B-side of SS012, “The 1987 EP,” which featured his (almost literally) hypnotic “China Trax” along with Parrish’s “Insane Asylum.” Apparently, the five tracks on this two-record set come from the same sessions as “China Trax” — recorded when Carson was fifteen years old. In Parrish’s own words, this music was “hand made, meaning no sequencing was used for the keys on any of the songs featured, using cassette tape overdubs — a lost science.”

“Lost science,” indeed. This release feels like an artifact of ancient technology, one of those primitive contraptions in sci-fi movies that does things none of the modern scientists can figure out. Appropriately, the fidelity on the record is marred by tape hiss and distortion; whether this sounds thrillingly raw or unacceptably amateur depends on the listener’s sympathies and the context (a Theo Parrish DJ set comes to mind). As for the music itself, produced by this precocious teenager during the later years of Chicago house’s golden age, it may surprise you. While the scene’s music was at its maximum pH level, a year after Phuture’s debut, Carson’s sound was an almost polar opposite of acid’s aggressive squelch. This EP’s A1 track, “Mechanism,” opens the record by epitomizing its aesthetic principles: minimalism, dissonance, and textural complexity. Its almost unchanging bass line — an occasional key modulation keeps it from crossing the line of boredom — lays the groundwork for a meticulous exploration of the rhythmic potentialities of house’s eternal 4/4.

“The Unknown,” a high-speed, atonal banger, is hard enough to demonstrate that Detroit’s influence on Chicago in the late 80′s had become just as profound as its inverse. “Dedicated” is a more subtle take on the same vibe, with a boogie-funk drum roll tempering its attack. It seems at first to take a page from Kenny Dixon’s playbook with the gratuitous crowd noise, but close listening reveals this is the sound of Martin Luther King Jr.’s introduction at the 1964 March On Washington. With all the controversy today over politically-charged deep house voiceovers, “Dedication” offers a compelling historical precedent. “China II” is, appropriately, a reprise of “China Trax,” with its melodically and tonally modulating melody reminiscent of Steve Poindexter’s “Computer Madness.” The title track closes out the set with its most surprising, and most contemporary cut. “Red Lightbulb” matches a floating pad to a dubby bass, with the most melodic and rhythmic variation of any track on the record. It proves that this record is no museum piece. If used with care, its components sound as good today as anything that came out this year.