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Techno

Techno

by Philip Sherburne

June 19, 2009

This month's column maps some recent high points across the spectrum of house, techno, their offshoots and inputs. There's no explicit theme tying together artists that range from L.A. to Rome, and elements from Ethiopian jazz to purist techno, but as usual, you'll likely be able to detect a preference for subdued epics and constrained psychedelia in the selection below.

Newworldaquarium: "Trespassers" [Delsin]
Jochem Peteri issued "Trespassers", his second record under his Newworldaquarium alias-- he also records as Newworldromantic, 154, and Ross 154-- in 2000, a time when Detroit classicism was less ingrained than it is at the moment. It went on to become a classic and Delsin has made it available again, both on wax and, for the first time as a standalone single, download.

This isn't the first time it's been reissued. Carl Craig's Planet E put it out as a promo-only offering in 2002, and its original Amsterdam home gave it a repress in 2007. It's hard to say just what makes this resilient single so powerful. The track's ingredients couldn't be simpler, with a birdcall-like synthesizer riff cutting through swirled Rhodes chords and a muted string ostinato; the stomping, skating beat is elegant but hardly draws attention to itself.

The more you listen, though, the more specifics escape you: Is the tempo fast or slow? (In fact, it moseys along at a comparatively staid 120 bpm, but something about its flickering ride cymbals, or perhaps the hard, rubbery attack of its kick drums, makes it feel much faster.) Where does the Rhodes line end, and the ambient icing around it begin? Is that a voice buried deep underneath whispering filters? How long have I been listening to this thing, anyway? Eleven minutes, nine years: both are true, after a fashion, and both figures seem interchangeable as long as the beat keeps rolling.

John Tejada: Vertex [Palette]
L.A.'s John Tejada might be too reliable for his own good. His singles, which rarely stray far from the thick of the dance floor, combine craft and grace in a wall that recalls Shaker furniture. But aside from the odd hit like "Sweat (On the Walls)", whose recognition factor benefited enormously from Qzen's spoken-word overlay, Tejada rarely seems to enjoy much acclaim outside DJs' ranks.

A new, four-track EP on his own Palette label may not feature much in the way of obvious hooks, but don't let that scare you off-- it's as full and rewarding as anything in the 4/4 spectrum right now. As on January's equally fine Fractals EP, Tejada explores different moods with every track, but they're all grounded in sumptuous keyboard lines, stacked like a princess' mattresses, and drum patterns taut as washboard abs. "Liquid Mirrors" is a model of restraint, paring back lush, resplendent chords to better highlight its driving bass. (I take back what I said about the lack of hooks-- when the bass bubbles up into the upper registers, the riff rivals anything by Lawrence or Gui Boratto.) The rave-influenced "The Locus of Points" slowly rotates with the weight of a punching bag; "P.L.L." starts life as a dry, bristling cactus-- shades of Ø or tobias.-- before blossoming into one of Tejada's characteristically melancholic melodies. And the title track toughens up Thomas Melchior-styled swing with great, buzzy chords that yawn and snap shut over and over again, changing color and timbre with the vagaries of his modular's knobs.

Nacho Patrol: Futuristic Abeba [Kindred Spirits]
Frankly, I'm shocked that it took as long as it did for someone to come up with an electronic approximation of the Éthiopiques sound; lucky for us that someone is the Netherlands' jack of all jacking trades, Legowelt. Attaching any one style to him is as futile as playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey in a darkened basketball stadium, but Nacho Patrol is something new even for him. Electric bass and guitars lay down vinelike counterpoints over a spongy bed of waterlogged organs; his curious, bubbling melodies do a good job of approximating the weird modal register of Ethiopian jazz, but with just a touch of Raymond Scott. Sounding as though the tapes had been left for a decade in barrels of oil, or chicken fat, the sound congeals into blots and blobs; of the drums, only the cymbals cut through the murk, leaving messy, metallic streaks across everything. The sense that something lost in translation languishes deep in all that white noise only deepens your curiosity.

Surgeon: Hello Oslo [Counterbalance]
After having spent the last two years ramping up on the remix and compilation front, Surgeon returns with his first solo EP since 2006's two-part Floorshow. That alone is cause for celebration; even more notable, Hello Oslo's four tracks turn out to have been recorded live in Norway one mad night last summer. I'm not familiar enough with Surgeon's catalog to say which tracks he's reprising, aside from 2007's "Bad Hands Break"; each track here begins in one place and ends in another, often changing itself up completely two or three times. The only constant is the music's compressed volatility, a kind of controlled violence absolutely deserving of Anthony Child's longtime alias. This is high-precision funk, shot through with mutating strands of atonal bleeps and imbued with a deadly sense of swing. Entering his soundworld feels like falling through the rungs of an iron jungle gym, right down to the cartoon stars swirling about your head.

Giorgio Gigli: Observation Document One [Prologue]
Rome's Giorgio Gigli continues to go deep and long on his second EP for Munich's fledgling Prologue label. I'm not sure that "Extrospection" really needs to be 12 minutes long, but then again, there's no reason it shouldn't be: DJs will grab what they want from it, while for home listeners, its droning, bassy toms and elastic plucks lull you into comfortable numbness. "Self-Reflection" is more urgent, riding unswung hi-hats and single-note bass through ache and echo. "Introspection", equally simple, best shows off Gigli's psychedelic touch; shuddering percussion reminds a little of Autechre's Anti and Garbage EPs, while metallic, percussive tones buoy a bobbing groove. Overhead, it's like a forest canopy, suffused with alien bird calls and insect chatter.

Millie & Andrea: "Temper Tantrum" / "Vigilance" [Daphne]
Modern Love's MLZ and Andy Stott continue their techno/dubstep balancing act on the third release on their Daphne label. "Temper Tantrum" is a lumbering bruiser that can't decide which way it wants to go; a knuckleheaded bassline pushes relentlessly forward, but the buckling breakbeats assert themselves with all the subtlety of a DJ juggling doubles. "Vigilance", closer in spirit to Daphne 02, lavishes its attentions on great, billowing chords in the dubby spirit of Basic Channel; what sets it apart is a lithe, almost 2-steppy rhythm cobbled together out of a rusty breakbeat and a pristine rimshot that cuts through it all like a lighthouse beacon. For my money, their slippery, morphing, woozily wobbly bass is as exciting in any low end in techno or dubstep at the moment.

Monolake: "Atlas" / "Titan" [Imbalance Computer Music]
While so much house and techno has slowed down in recent years, Monolake's Robert Henke doesn't shy away from breakneck tempos. "Atlas" gallops along at upwards of 140 bpm, staccato hi-hats perforating space like a punch card machine (an appropriate image, perhaps, given Henke's parallel career as a software designer) while sooty pads keep the Chain Reaction legacy alive. The kick drum, like the percussive arrangement in general, is always in motion, upending the 4/4 pulse in fits and stutters. On the B-side, "Titan" continues to blur the line between techno and dubstep, balancing straight-ahead hi-hats with staggering bass syncopations. The track's centerpiece is a long, winding lead played on what sounds like a conch shell, but the authority figure here is a wide-open rimshot that bangs down like a judge's gavel, as if mooting the whole techno-vs.-dubstep argument.

Mathew Jonson: "Walking on the Hands that Follow Me" [Wagon Repair]
"Walking on the Hands that Follow Me" is a slightly unsettling title, coming from an artist who's generated his fair share of underground adulation in the last few years, but the tune itself sounds neither like burning bridges nor crushing knuckles. Riding the uneasy undulations of a snaky synth lead, the track pulls together all of Jonson's trademark elements (skipping hi-hats, odd squiggles, vaguely Eastern scales), but it's no less effective for its familiarity. Still, "When Love Feels Like Crying" feels more special. Jonson's answer to Ricardo Villalobos' "Dexter", it follows a plaintive, cycling keyboard melody as it pools in burnished metal and goes coiling down the drain. Thanks to the way that Jonson records his tracks as live as his process will allow, hands on knobs and virtually every parameter up for grabs, the music is constantly in motion, as impossible to fix in place as a fistful of dry sand.

Thomas Brinkmann: "Isch" [Curle]
For anyone who missed it when it appeared on CD in 2002, on the artist's own max.Ernst label, Thomas Brinkmann's great "Isch" gets a vinyl reissue from Belgium's Curle label. I'd forgotten all about the track, but its weird, wah-wahing guitar, choppy jazz breaks and isolated vocal samples bring it all back. (You might remember it best from its central place in DJ Koze's All People Is My Friends mix.) It sounded pretty much unlike anything else when released, and it still does now, which makes the prospect of remixing it potentially disastrous. But Soulphiction steps up with an equally unusual "Remisch" driven by brushed snares, flyaway harps and vibraphone; disco-inspired walking bass anchors the wispy high-end with resolute good spirits.

Animal Collective: "My Girls (Mike Monday Unofficial Remix)"
Unlike remixes that beat you over the head with their source material, Mike Monday's unofficial rework of Animal Collective's "My Girls" sneaks up on you, building up with two minutes of controlled tech-house bump before the band's pinwheeling arpeggios finally reveal themselves, spinning like glittery scraps of Terry Riley's "In C". An extended breakdown cedes the stage to an all but unadulterated segment of the song, before letting AC's own, techno-inspired shakers set the pace for a sparkling climax. Monday writes in his blog that he originally created the remix for use in his live sets, but that "what I did with the track got such a huge reaction when I played it in my first live set that I decided I really had to commit it to...er...mp3." He continues, "It is completely unofficial so if you like it please support the brilliant, wonderful, marvellous Animal Collective and buy their album or if you can't stretch to that, then at least the track 'My Girls'." Hopefully Animal Collective will see the track in the spirit in which it was apparently created. It's a rare, un-ironic merger of dance music and something like "popular culture."

To read more of Philip Sherburne on techno, check out his website.

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