Techno, Techno, Techno, Techno…

If somebody mentions the word ‘techno’, what springs to mind? My partly assumptive guess based mainly on conversations I have had with people who centre their entire musical outlook around what daytime radio tells them, would be either ‘2Unlimited’ or ‘Marching Germans’.

However with a little digging past the perceived face value of techno as a somewhat dirty word, it is arguably the most longstanding, diverse and fluid form of electronic music.

Originating in Detroit in the mid 1980s, techno developed hand-in-hand with the advent of drum machines and synthesizers with certain hardware, for example Roland’s TR series, became particularly synonymous with techno. The word ‘techno’ itself derives from the backdrop of Detroit that the genre was inspired and influenced by; automotive industry, machinery and all round technological advancement.

As we crawl into 2009, it is worth noting that it is over twenty years since the ‘BelleVille three’, Derrick May, Juan Atkins and Kevin Saunderson first set about sequencing analogue beats and sounds. What has happened in the two decades since? Much. As with any music, possibly even more so in this case, techno has diversified and developed in every possible direction. Some would say it has changed beyond recognition in some circumstances, although in part this is down to the previously mentioned ‘confusion’ over the definition of the word.

In recent years the widespread popularity of techno, in its truest form at least, has begun to dwindle. As the stranglehold of mass media continues to dictate what people enjoy and are ‘in to’, trends and fads are becoming all too common.

In Manchester, however, it is still at the very forefront of the city’s buzzing music scene. In 2006 ‘The Warehouse Project’ threw a party at the Boddington’s brewery, showcasing some of techno’s true luminaries including Los Hermanos, DJ 3000 and Robert Hood. Despite the WHP since morphing into a hulking great soulless money making mechanism, this night alone speaks volumes for what Manchester can offer. More importantly, however, are the numerous other independent nights and parties that week in, week out go far out of their way to provide the city’s discerning clientele with something different. This widespread, intertwining network of nights, parties and shindigs are what truly sets Manchester apart, allowing for the continued immersion of Manchester’s clubbing fraternity in everyone’s own personal favourite strain of what we know and love as techno.

Check out more about Motor Techno and Tom Long at: Motor Techno Radio



TOM LONG

Why The Gays...Deejay

1. The Music industry relies heavily on the ‘pink pound’ (especially in a credit crunch) and the homo-audience has revived some major celebs’ careers time and time again; see Kylie, Madonna, Britney (do you think they would have survived so long without us) and we have helped hurl others almost over night to the top of the charts, see Girls Aloud, Katy Perry, The Saturdays, Sugababes (including the chav and ginger one who left.) G-A-Y/Heaven, gets the biggest names performing because the DJs keep spinning their tracks!

2. For every cool-indie-electro-fluorescently-coloured-accessory club there is a better cool-indie-electro-fluorescently-coloured-accessory club. (Note: we invented that before it became mainstream. Sunglasses in a nightclub? Chunky plastic bling? So circa 1981!) For all RnB clubs there are funkier and more ghetto booty shaking nights at gay clubs. 80s, 90s, 00‘s night are OWNED by the gays… noticing a trend? Therefore hundreds of opportunities are available for gay DJs to spin some tunes up and down the country.

3. Gays love dancing. So much they take off their shirts. Where else can you get a better view of a room full of tight Calvin Kleins and testosterone than from the DJ booth?!

4. These sexy sweaty dancing gays are on the prowl usually… always… ok, most definitely (they have their shirt’s off for heaven sake!) and who best to gyrate against than the one in the power of the music, the DJ!

5. So along with constant adoring attention from pilled up party boys, as a DJ you get a host of freebies. Free entry. Free drinks. Free merchandise and use of the bathroom and the aftershaves for free.

6. It’s common knowledge that’s its really who you do and knowing who you’re mates do, that propels you into the high society of the gay world. As a DJ networking skills are crucial. Thankfully every popper and WKD fuelled night is just another opportunity to mingle. Forget boring meetings and lunches, a quick gossip and re-enactment of ‘I’m Spinning Around’ is much more successful. (Hot pants optional)

7. As a DJ you play the music you want to hear! Setting up your own club night gives you the freedom to express yourself, including revealing all those dodgy one hit wonders you love so much!

8. Want to get your club night noticed? Then invite some hunky boys, throw in a couple of outrageously dress up Trannys and Ladyboys and BAM, you’re sorted! Everyone loves and bit of rent-a-crowd in fancy dress, drag and with big hair…

9. DJs can earn a ridiculous amount of money for one night with the least amount of work! We maybe lazy, but we look damn good doing it!

10. Gays have the best taste in music. Ever. Fact.



DAN LAMBDEN

Why I Love Hip Hop

I hate the way fashion has to be written in the form of commandments; you know the “Thou shall not wear pointed shoes with skinny jeans!” Well anyhoo, who cares?

You will remember this if you are a true lover of hip hop and grew up in the 80’s/90’s era. Kangol hats? Adidas (without the laces)? Gold roped chains and a grand clock that hung as its pendant? And let’s not forget the Salt N Pepper leggings, the doorknocker earrings, the girls with the boy cut hair styles with a fringe hanging to the side. The inflated MC Hammer trousers and when it was cool to wear granny spectacles. The high top kicks, and the high top hair! The purple, the green, the orange - all worn together with political slogans embellished into t shirts.
And this was just the fashion. But this is why I fell in love with hip hop.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to emulate Sanaa Lathan in Brown Sugar, but when Keyshia Cole belted on her cover of Notorious B.I.G’s Juicy “they gone miss it like Biggie’s it was all a dream” that’s exactly the way I feel. I loved the Motown samples merged into Hip Hop and the way that handclaps and kicks drums thumped rhythm into your soul. Hip Hop was the culture while rap was the music. Hip Hop meant we could wear all our clothes excessively oversize, back to front or inside out. Rap meant we were the new generation of young people and society gave us hassle. Hip Hop meant we could perfect our graffiti art and our B-Boy stance. Rap meant we created iconic rhetorical phrases and if you know what’s coming next, then you were there to witness the birth of Hip Hop.

“Whose house?” No introduction needed. The legendary Rev Run, one third of hip hop pioneers RUN DMC, was living proof of how far Hip Hop has come. Alongside Spice Girl’s supreme member, Mel B, the reverend co -hosted the 2008 MOBO Awards. Long before Hip Hop became an East coast Vs West Coast thing, went down south and got Crunk and died. Hip Hop was about being funky, fresh and clean. There was no Range Rovers or grills, but roller-skates and one gold tooth. Rappers never got shot as a result of a freestyle clash. They went home and re-wrote lyrics for the next day cyphire. Most importantly, it wasn’t disrespectful and when things did get heated, we only went so far as “yo momma...” and we dare not finish the sentence with several obscenities.

But of course, times have progressed and we will never retrieve the golden era. But please do remember when people label booty shaking, cursing and a song using T pain’s auto tuner as Hip Hop, remind them that that isn’t B-Boy stance, that isn’t freestyle and that just isn’t HIP HOP. And if they want to know what is, tell them “I Am.” And that is exactly why I USED to love Hip Hop.



KAMARIA FLEARY

Tech House

Originating from the fusion of the incredibly underground and insanely heavy genera of Techno which originated in Detroit and the equally funky genre of House originating from the clubs of Chicago, Tech house is the ultimate genera of dance music carrying traits of both of these styles making it highly technical, powerful and very funky. Tech house is not a style well known however it is now spreading throughout clubs in the UK at an alarming rate proving just how irresistible it is.

Typical tracks have huge rolling bass lines with snapping kick and snare drums and complex hi-hat licks. Layered over these sounds are various clicking and industrial sounds played in offbeat arrangements creating an ultimate funk. Along with these sounds come amazing atmospheric and synthetic melodies blending in and out with the underlying beat. Each song has several breaks where the beat drops away and the melody is left to build up.

These moments are when the crowd are brought together all anticipating the climax point where the beat returns with more power than before making the crowd go wild as a sea of people jump up and down as one. From this point on it is the job of the DJ to mix things up intensifying the beat and changing into the next track creating a musical journey changing in both complexity and intensity as the crowd’s enthusiasm increases.

I thoroughly recommend checking this genre of music out as it is already becoming the next big thing in many many clubs across the UK and won’t be long until world domination is looking imminent.

SAM DOWDING

Beck - Modern Guilt (Interscope)

The cross-pollinating prince of pop returns hand in hand with the industry’s most ubiquitous and in-demand producer, Danger Mouse. The prospect is tantalising. Beck’s idiosyncratic take on a variety of musical genre’s coupled with Brian Burton’s unparalleled knack for a beat-laden hook is a match made in quirky-pop-heaven.
But the effect appears to have reined in Beck’s more experimental predilections – ‘Modern Guilt’ is certainly one of his more conventional albums, especially given the last two wonderfully oddball releases of ‘Guero’ and ‘The Information’.

At only 33mins playing time ‘Modern Guilt’ has been shorn of any of the progressive excesses of ‘The Information’ and this is perhaps one of the few weaknesses of a generally excellent album. Where previous efforts have had a sense of indulgent mischief about them, ‘Modern Guilt’ gets straight down to business. The sun-drenched sweetness of opener Orphans (featuring Cat Power’s Chan Marshall) and chugging funkiness of Gamma Ray are cut brutally short as is the otherwise brilliant Chemtrails where an emergent guitar solo is killed off before having the opportunity to offset the phenomenal drumming virtuoso of long-time Beck collaborator Joey Waronker. Brevity is the name of the game and Beck seems to lack the conviction of his previous releases, unwilling to revel in his own creations. As such the album has the feel of an extended E.P, a transitional piece between ‘The Information’ and something more significant, where musical paths are speculated but not fully realised. Nevertheless there is enough going on here to keep everyone satisfied if not sated. A decent Beck album is, after all, creative light years ahead of most of his contemporary’s efforts. Chemtrails is the outstanding track of the album, its paranoid, conspiratorial lyrics matched perfectly by its brooding, haunting sound.

Replica’s ambient, skittering drum ‘n’ bass suggests promise if he were to ever go down that particular generic path while Profanity Prayer’s apocalyptic disco thump is a gloriously invigorating listen. A sublime starter but we await our main course expectantly.


ROBERT DAVINSON

Chiptune Alliance Tour 2008 (Sabrepulse, Firebrand Boy, Random, Syphus, Henry Homesweet): iBar Bournemouth

ibar, Bournemouth

If you’re not familiar with 8-Bit music, imagine the soundtrack to your favourite SNES game remixed to buggery and smeared over a high tempo drumbeat.
It’s another step down the well trod path of retro, but thankfully it leaves behind any air of egotistic self-irony that most brands of retro suffer from this was evident as soon as I entered the tiny iBar. The atmosphere was magnificent, amplified by the fact the audience numbered less than fifty and none aged higher than twenty.

I arrived midway through a set by Henry Homesweet, a more aggressive artist who wasn’t meant to be playing this leg of the tour. His 8-bit-meets-hardcore approach had ninety percent of the tiny audience leaping up and down, hands raised.
Syphus and Firebrand Boy played well, Random, from Sweden, took the tempo down some, which was appreciated after energetic dancing in a small, sweaty room. Most artists danced around with souped up Gameboys in hand, reconfigured to harness the sounds the Gameboy makes. There was a definite sense of innocence, not because of the audience age, but although this music was fast and dirty and perfect for raving, the SEGA-esque blips and bleeps conjured childhood memories of days spent playing Sonic.
Then on came Sabrepulse, the name to drop in a chat about 8-Bit. Having had a lot of input on the tour, and considering his internet fame, I expected him to have a longer set than the other artists. So I was surprised when his set lasted as long as everyone else’s.

But that’s the way 8-Bit works. It’s by the kids, for the kids. This tour is not about boosting ego, it’s about showcasing new talent in an up and coming genre. And new talent was well showcased.



ADAM STONE

The rise in the price of live music

Next time you see one of those nostalgic posters advertising a Deep Purple gig, check out the price. What’s that?! £4? Maybe Deep Purple weren’t big enough to charge more back then? They were. They were bigger. Maybe the pound strength has dropped since then? It has, but even back in the day £4 was nothing compared to how much we pay for gigs and festivals today. The plain fact is: live music came cheap.

Continuing on the Deep Purple example, where they could have charged £4 a ticket back in 1970-something, they now charge £20 or £30. With their best work behind them, most of those paying are avid fans who remember paying £4 to see them back in the day. And don’t get me started on that Led Zeppelin reunion gig…

Music is becoming more of a business. Drawn by anything with potential popularity, businessmen come skulking out of their hives to take a juicy bite out of a fertile scene. But we can’t blame businessmen alone for rising prices. It seems bands shrouded in classic appeal, the golden oldies, draw more money per ticket (again I reference that Zeppelin gig). Perhaps it’s because they have an older, wealthier fan base. So why do the youth have to fork out £20 for this month’s big thing? I blame festivals.

As soon as a band hits a certain rung on the reputation ladder, waiting festival organizers snatch them up and embed them in their line-up along with other semi-big names rising out of the uncharted swamps of unsigned music. Playing a few summer festivals trounces the idea of a year long tour from the band’s point of view (unless they actually enjoy playing live), and kills off the idea of the single gig.

Long story short: big bands don’t need to gig to make money. They get enough from festivals.

Looking at this year’s Reading Festival line-up, I’m sure thousands of people forked out £155 just to see RATM reform and play. And if asked, I’m sure they’d say “I only wanted to see Rage. And £155 is how much you’d pay for the headliners anyway. And plus, you’re paying for the atmosphere”.

The atmosphere... People pay to camp in a field with hundreds of thousands of like minded folks. From one of the numerous hippy festivals scattered about England, to the chaotic airing out of the id Reading encourages, camping in large numbers is a desired break from reality that fetches high prices.

As much as people are willing to pay for a weekend of chaos/peace and healing, it has left the vibrant, cheap music scene of yester-decade in tatters. With the retina scanning, voice-recognition tickets festivals sell, Woodstock (the good one, I mean) will never happen again. And with ‘classic’ bands charging triple figures for tickets, get used to seeing small and unsigned bands or paying megabucks for the big ones on the rare times they venture beyond the festival walls.

But an empty wallet forces those with a passion for live music to dig deeper into the mysterious realm of the unheard and the unsigned, and see some real gems before the museum curators snatch them up, stick them behind six inch thick glass, and charge a bomb to see them.



ADAM STONE