Phoney

West Leicester, February 2016

It’s increasingly difficult to convince younger people that telephones were once necessarily tethered to specific geographical locations.  Even a relatively late-adopter like me, rarely ventures out without a phone in my pocket nowadays.  Indeed, it surprises me that a long-privatised telecommunications company like BT, still finds it cost effective to maintain public phone boxes against a ceaseless tide of petty vandalism and general indifference.

Who uses kiosks, like this one near my home? - I wonder.  It used to be a hub for routine drug deals, I believe.  But surely a tap would be placed on the line of any such hotspot, these days - would it not?  I guess we can’t ignore the fact that, even here, - in (supposedly) the fifth most affluent global economy; there’s a distressingly large hardcore of benighted souls too cash-strapped to envisage even the cheapest handset and a pay-as-you-go contract.

West Leicester, February 2016

In my younger years, phone boxes were just another part of ubiquitous street furniture.  Some of my earliest memories are of squeezing, with my Mother, into one of those iconic, Gilbert Scott-designed affairs; before we had a landline installed at home.  My face would be pressed close to the small panes of slightly cloudy glass, and the gnarly texture of multiple coats of red gloss on the cast iron glazing bars.  Sometimes, she’d sit me on the sturdy directory shelf, and I also remember the mechanical whir of the rotary dial and the satisfying ‘clunk-chink’ as she operated the coin-return knob.

Of course, it’s easy to over-romanticise such recollections.  The reality is, those old boxes often stank of piss, - even in supposedly more civilised times; and queuing in wind and rain to make routine calls was neither an enjoyable or efficient use of time [1.].  Even so, they never came close to the bland squalor of this contemporary example.  In reality, the only reason it even captured my attention, was for its formal juxtaposition of calligraphic graffiti and obscure, translucency.  It’s just another evocation of visually drained, uncommunicative vacancy, of the kind that fascinates me so much at present.

Central Leicester, February 2016

Coincidentally, it occurs to me that the little suite of semi-abstract images accompanying my last post, derive from Leicester's old Central Telephone Exchange.  Much of that building now houses residential apartments, but the frosted, wired, gridded windows I photographed punctuate one small section still housing telecommunications infrastructure.  By accident, and initially, for purely visual reasons, - it appears that another sub-theme may have emerged.




[1.]:  I also remember how, sometimes in the early 1980s, I left a bag containing all my personal documents, (including Passport, Birth Certificate, etc.), in a phone box near the student house where I lived.  In the ten minutes it took me to realise my mistake, - the bag was gone.  These days, I might lose my mobile phone, but, trust me, - whilst disruptive, that's far less inconvenient than replacing all that paperwork.

Dub Techno Primer: Playlist 13

Central Leicester, February 2016

As promised/threatened, here’s a themed playlist of some of the music that has filled my sound environment as I’ve worked on my artwork lately.  Everything here can be labeled Dub Techno, and, whilst it’s not all I’ve been playing, - it is a form I’ve immersed myself in plenty of at the moment.  The first few images bear no direct relation to the music under discussion, but somehow seem to chime with the general spirit of it.  I harvested them at the same location in Leicester, recently, and already regard of them as a rather pleasing little self-contained suite.

Central Leicester, February 2016

For those uncultivated by the micro-management of electronic music genres, Dub Techno (unsurprisingly) involves the combining of an often strictly-metred Techno aesthetic, with a Dubwise exploration of bass heaviness and sonic space, as explored by certain Jamaican studio pioneers in the 70s.  As a definable entity, it emerged some time around 1993 through the innovation of a select group of Germans, but really amounts to a kind of three-way conversation across time and space, between Kingston, Detroit and Berlin. 

Central Leicester, February 2016

Dub Techno has proved surprisingly enduring as a style, even if it lacks too much forward movement these days.  It implies, by its very nature, the almost endless plundering of a fairly limited palette of musical tropes, and has thus proved readily adoptable, (in sometimes diluted form), by an increasingly international army of producers.  However, I would argue that inherent conservatism might also be, in some ways, its greatest strength.  By embracing the idea of relentless reinterpretation of minimal sources early on, and by generally prioritising the opening of internal mental spaces over an imperative to always be seeking novelty, it also insulated itself, paradoxically, against the notion of short attention spans.  You either buy into this kind of steady state model, or you don’t.  On a more superficial level: who doesn’t enjoy a good echo – rolling on into infinity?  Dub Techno is bursting with ‘em.

Central Leicester, February 2016

Perhaps part of my own fascination with the form is because the overriding attitude to open-endedness and a spirit of ‘the-same-but-different’, syncs well with some of my own current artistic interests.  Anway, genre analysis is a pretty fruitless pastime ultimately, so it’s far more instructive to simply get on with absorbing the music itself.

Central Leicester, February 2016

Maurizio: ‘MCD’

In the beginning was Basic Channel, - the Berlin-based production team and associated label, of Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald.  And, at the start of that - around 1993, was a series of much - lauded 12-inch vinyls, released under the Maurizio banner.  There’s something a bit austere and aristocratically aloof about these two, but that also reflects the spare elegance, thorough attention to detail, and immaculate quality control characterising  most things they’ve laid hands on over the years.

Early on, the Basic Channel sound was generally one of minimal rigour, placing the emphasis far more on the Techno side of the equation, than the Dub.  Indeed, those with an aversion to persistent, strictly metered 4/4 rhythms, or who listen on small, tinny speakers without much middle-range, might soon find this stuff quite tiring.  Personally, I find something mesmerising in it, and enjoy how you can hear an evolving engagement with the softening, broadening effects of echo, and certain melodic modifiers, as the series unfolds.  It’s a bit like witnessing a thorough R&D production phase.   Those Germans, - eh?.

The ‘MCD’ compilation brings together a significant selection of the ‘M-Series’, some in edited form, and is probably the best way to get a handle on the origins of Dub Techno as its stylistic conventions were being codified.  Physical artifact fans, without the time or resources to track down individual tracks on vinyl, need to source a decent used CD copy these days, - but it’s all easily downloadable or YouTube-able.

Rhythm & Sound:  ‘Rhythm & Sound’

If ‘M’ music was mostly a Techno thing, Ernestus & von Moritz’s Rhythm & Sound project clearly looked towards Jamaica.  Retaining the spare elegance that is their trademark, they constructed a highly engaging up-date of the 1980s Digi-Dub template.  The productions on this miraculous compilation strip away all extraneous clutter, to concentrate on recognisably Reggae-derived bass lines, snare splashes, and a world of ringing echoes worthy of Tubby or Scratch themselves.  The album is pretty much essential, in my view, - illustrating all the major aspects of the genre, still prior to their being fully set in stone.  It would be my one-to-save, should all the others on this list be swept away -‘Desert Island Discs’ -style.

An obvious feature of the R&S material is a slowing of tempo, - sometimes to a steady skank, as on a track like ‘Mango Drive’.  Elsewhere, the pace slows even further, to create a textural, smoked-out ambience, as in ‘Distance’; in which shadowy figures seem to move in slow motion.  ‘Roll-Off’ and ‘Imprint’ seem composed from little more than the shifting air movements in dense, herbal smoke.  Later R&S releases paid their dues by showcasing the conscious vocal contributions of such luminaries as Joseph Cotton and Sugar Minott.  Most of these tracks are instrumental, but Savage’s voice reasons thoughtfully from the track, ‘Smile’.

Fluxion: ‘Vibrant Forms’

Many regard ‘Vibrant Forms’ as a key release on Chain Reaction, - the imprint that Ernestus & von Oswald established in the wake of Basic Channel.  Fluxion itself is the nom de plume of Greek producer Kostas Soublis, and this 1999, release is an excellent compilation of early Chain Reaction tracks under that name.

First impressions and inattentive listening might give the impression of a series of steady-state bangers that don’t necessarily go anywhere much.  Pay more heed however, (through proper equipment), and a wealth of subtle nuance and gradual mutation emerge within each piece.  Most impressive of all, is the sheer, cavernous depth of Soublis’ productions.  Whereas some fill up their music with multiple layers of textural, fug, here he was excavating vast, resonating chambers of sound, whose components seem located at specific points in implied space.  Bung this through headphones, and you can wander around inside it for miles.

Porter Ricks:  ‘Bionkinetics’

This one’s from three years earlier, and may be held by some in even higher regard within the Chain Reaction canon.  Porter Ricks is the creative alliance of Sound Engineer Andy Mellwig and Sound-Art Designer Thomas Köner, so it’s no surprise that the main focus is on purely sonic characteristics rather than traditional genre-associations or ‘narrative’ arc.  In some respects, the album sounds like an even more abstract predecessor to ‘Vibrant Forms’, and one that equally repays careful listening.  Certain track titles suggest a nautical theme, although it’s not really an association I’d have made unaided.  However, ‘Biokinetics’ does represent a voyage of discovery across an ocean of sound, and certainly fits the Dub Techno bill by lending Techno’s mechanical underpinnings an altogether more enveloping aspect.

Pole: ‘1’, ‘2’, ‘3’

If Basic Channel pioneered the dubbing-up of Minimal Techno, a slightly tangential approach was taken by Stefan Betke, aka Pole, - and the other artists associated with his Berlin-based -scape imprint.  Famously, Betke utilsed a damaged and malfunctioning Waldorf 4-Pole filter, (no, me neither), to tap into the Clicks & Cuts vibe, - capitalising on the fallibility of technology, and subverting the supposed seamlessness of the machine ethic.

Betke’s intuited how that latent conceptualism might be applied within a Dub context; building rhythm patterns from the crackles, hisses and pops of his faulty equipment, - then combining them with deep, maternal bass and reductive synth stabs.  One possible interpretation is of music operating on an almost molecular level.  It was a winning formula, best sampled on his first three, numbered and colour-coded albums, ‘1’ (blue), ‘2’ (red), and ‘3’ (yellow).  I first encountered these via Leicester’s wonderful Goldsmiths’s Music & Drama Library, around the turn the century, - and have loved them ever since.  The deleted single discs were compiled into a grey-coloured CD box set in 2008, but frustratingly, on a fairly limited release.  Back to discogs.com it is, then.

Deadbeat:  ‘Wildlife Documentaries’

Deadbeat (Scott Monteith), In Full Effect

Canadian producer Scott Monteith, Aka Deadbeat, is a close associate of Betke, and this album – released on –scape in 2003, shares some of that distinctive Pole aesthetic.  However, Monteith has always maintained an essentially old-school sensibility, carving a career from exploring various facets of the Reggae, Techno and House traditions within the context of his contemporary production skills.  Everything he does retains an analogue warmth, - with each of his albums often exhibiting a specific stylistic or thematic identity.  Actual songs are not unknown within the Deadbeat canon, on occasion.  I’ve never met a Deadbeat record I didn’t get on with, but this little beauty gets my vote for its inclusion of the gorgeous, Hammond-driven, ‘Organ In The Attic Sings The Blues’.  It’s immaculate, approachable stuff, and even my old Mum likes this one.

Deepchord Presents Echospace:  ‘The Coldest Season’

The Echospacemen: (L.): Rod Modell, (R.): Stephen Hitchell

Okay, - this could get a bit complicated.  Deepchord is a name adopted by Detroit-based producer Rod Modell, (who also works under his own name), - originally in conjunction with Mike Schommer, but now as a largely solo entity.  Echospace is the name both of a record label and a regular collaborative arrangement between Deepchord and Chicagoan, Stephen Hitchell. Modell and Hitchell also work together as CV313, whilst Hitchell himself releases work as Soultek, Variant, and probably a host of other aliases I’m not even aware of.  Other people may or may not be involved at various points, and exactly what distinction ‘Deepchord Presents Echospace’ implies, - I’m not exactly sure.  To add to the complexity, everyone within their orbit seems to remix each other’s material, - apparently into infinity.  Dub was always about the versions, of course.

Whatever the internal dynamics, Modell and Hitchell form key figures in what amounts to a significant American nexus of the genre, (just as Basic Channel and -scape did in Berlin).  Significantly, Modell’s own roots go deep into Detroit Techno, whilst Hitchell’s Chicago origins place him in an equally significant geo-musical context.  Taken broadly, the Echospace sound might be said to take all the familiar Dub Techno components, - be they rhythmic or atmospheric, and recombine them into something truly immersive.  It can be ethereal or aquatic by turns, whilst a specific sense of place or unifying theme often prevails, - not least through Modell’s occasional incorporation of field recordings into the mix.  Even, at its least specific, the Echospace sound always resembles something deeply felt and connected to a particular context.

‘The Coldest Season’, (from 2007), is generally labeled their masterpiece.  It hangs together beautifully as an extended play, - with tracks morphing out of each other in a thoroughly engaging, continuous mix.  It may be the associations of the title, but there does seem to be a colder edge about this one, with clouds of granular hiss filling the opener, ‘First Point Of Airies’, rather like glistening ice crystals.  Tiny percussive splashes resemble the drips of melt-water at certain points, whilst, elsewhere, certain ambiences evoke howling wind or frozen voids.  Things become gradually more urgent as the album progresses, but at no point does any rhythm become either overpowering or inorganic.  ‘Aequinoxium’ seems to resonate from the interior of a hollow ice-formation, whilst ‘Elysian’ feels like hundreds of rubber balls bouncing down a glacier.  My only (small) reservation is with one or two slightly cheesy track titles.  ‘Sunset’, guys? Really?

CV313:  ‘Dimensional Space’

I’ll be honest, I find it almost impossible to get my head around the multiplicity of versions, remixes, and configurations that characterise Echospace music overall.  The distinctions between different projects may be somewhat abstruse and technologically derived, but I can only assume they mean something to the producers themselves.  CV313 appears to be a project largely driven by Stephen Hitchell, but one in which Modell, amongst others has clearly had plenty of involvement.  Certainly, he played an important part in shaping this, - the first CV313 album.  That process was itself a pretty tortuous one, with the original tapes, (dating back to 1998), being submerged by floodwater for some time.  That seems a delicious irony, - given the submersive nature of the music.  Anyway, what material could be salvaged was painstakingly reconstructed and finally released as ‘Dimensional Space’ in 2007.

The CD version is a double disc affair, comprising 80 minutes of original material, and a further selection of remixes of the track ‘Subtraktive’, by the likes of King Midas Sound and Brock Van Wey, as well as Modell and Hitchell themselves.  Sonically, there are no massive surprises, - just another extended feast of undulating atmospherics and lovingly sculpted soundwaves.  However, whilst the CV313 sound may often place itself at the more ambient end of the scale, it never loses a sense of rhythmic propulsion, or its links with the Detroit Techno tradition.  Interestingly, Hitchell has himself stated that this feels more relevant to him than any tangible Jamaican connection

Variant:  ‘Vortextual (Element 1 & 2)’

These two discs arrived on my doormat in spartan, but attractive packaging, - bearing next to no information.  What is clear is that Stephen Hitchell’s Variant project is even more strongly engaged with the ambient extremes of Dub Techno.  Echospace music is sometimes dismissed glibly as flotation tank fodder, but that really doesn’t do this justice.  For all its drifting washes of sound, undulating bass, gently pulsing rhythms, sonic vapour and echoing ambience, this stuff rewards engaged listening far more than passive consumption.

Each ‘Element’ is a single piece, and they extend the basic template of the most ambient Rhythm & Sound material, over hour-long durations, to achieve a form of elevation beyond mere stoned hypnosis.  Devoid of clearly defined structure, both pieces still mutate through numerous shifting phases, filled with captivating fine detail.  Rather than feeling deliberately conceived as Ambient music, each feels more like something originally chunkier, or with sharper definition, - now polished to a semi-transparent state.  Suffice it to say, 'Elements Zero', '3' & '4' are currently on order.

Pendle Coven:  ‘Self Assessment’

Miles Whittaker is one half of the Demdike Stare production team.  However, like most others here, he’s no stranger to multiple collaborations or releases under several solo aliases, - and has an extensive back catalogue to rival the best.  Pendle Coven sees him join forces with Gary Howell to explore various musical models beyond the suggested occult darkness of the project’s name.  Despite a slightly forbidding intro, the tracks compiled here in 2009 constitute a crisp, contemporary take on these styles, from the Step workout of ‘Unit 6’, or the elastic, Technoid bounce of ‘MVD Chamber’, - to the nearly-Ambient ‘Chord Calculus’.  Certain other pieces, like ‘Modern Mode’, seem to stir a Jazzier ingredient into the cauldron.  ‘Self Assessment’ might be something of a mixed bag, but I find it a satisfying listen, (and great to drive to, for some reason).

Conclusion:

'Vestige 1', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Ink, Spray Enamel, French Polish & Misc. Solvents
On Panel.  60 cm X 60 cm, 2016

Apologies for the length of this post.  Despite my best intentions, it does read like something of a genre survey, as well as a list of current favourites.  Old Dub Techno hands may find relatively little to surprise them above, but hopefully I might have introduced one or two new listening experiences to others.  If nothing else, it offers a little insight into the wider context in which my recent paintings have taken form.  I rarely produce anything in direct illustration of a particular recording, but have always played music as I work.  That my thoughts are clearly woven through each piece of visual work, goes without saying.  However, it also pleases me to think of the music's sound waves being absorbed into the very fabric of a painting, - even as my materials solidify in the same, moving air.

Screen Test: My Weekend At Leicester Print Workshop

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

I was never much of a printmaker, - but doing something about that is one of my stated objectives for 2016.  Thus, I recently attended the rather splendid Leicester Print Workshop for a weekend ‘Introduction To Screen Printing’ course; and very rewarding it was too.

Leicester Print Workshop, February 2016

In all honesty, I wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the basic principles of screen printing, - having dabbled with it at various points over the years.  Like most Art students of my vintage, I encountered it on my Foundation Course, and during my first Degree Year, - albeit in a somewhat superficial manner.  I had even done a little bit during my childhood, via a family-focused evening class.  However, none of this had ever produced much of any real quality, and at no point did I ever feel like I really got to grips with either the technicalities or the creative potential of the medium.

Leicester Print Workshop, February 2016

This time round, I’m hoping to build up a little more momentum, - not least because I now have certain specific goals in mind relating to my ongoing artwork.  Whilst producing self-contained prints as statements in their own right may certainly become part of this, I also have ambitions to translate work from other media, (such as painting, collage, photography, etc.), into prints, and also for them to become potential raw material for further work, in turn.  The idea is to try to arrive at a kind of image-generating continuum, in which images evolve out of each other, - taking different forms as they do so.  This idea definitely stems from the work by artists such as Christopher Wool, Albert Oehlen, etc. which impressed me on viewing Tate Modern’s ‘Painting After Technology’ display, last year.  Another possibility is the combination of print with paintiong or other mixed media, as in the work of Robert Rauchenberg, for instance.

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

Anyway, before any of that can happen, the main aim is to reacquaint myself with the technicalities of the process, and with modern methods of translating imagery, creating stencils, and so on.  Of particular interest to me is the production of stencils photographically, - something which was dealt with thoroughly early in the weekend.  In fact, the whole course was very instructive, and Course Tutor, Nick Mobbs is clearly an accomplished printer and a practicing artist in his own right.  He was able to pass on a wealth of knowledge in ‘correct’ technique and good practice, as well as some of the quick fixes and on-the-fly remedies one often needs whenever any degree of technical process is involved.  It’s worth noting that the level of experienced technical support was pretty impressive too.

In fact, the general set-up was impressive all round.  Leicester Print Workshop is a well-established institution, and has gained an admirable reputation over the years.  However, it recently relocated to larger, newly renovated premises in Leicester’s so-called Cultural Quarter, and now has the space, light and facilities it deserves.  It’s possible to view the Cultural Quarter project as a slightly undercooked, missed opportunity in some respects, but if it is to become the kind of buzzy, creative hub its planners originally envisaged, another engine of actual, dirt-under-the-nails practice can only help, in my view.

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

Anyway, the images on here show some of the results of my weekend’s labour.  It’s pretty obvious that my own sticking point was around the registration of multi-coloured, layered prints, but Nick was able to impart various techniques for improving matters in this respect, and I’m confident I could make a better fist of it, next time round.  The images themselves were envisaged as non-precious practice pieces, although they do have some connection with my general concerns, both past and present.  I’m hoping that, the next time I set up to print, it will be something even more directly related to my current ideas, and that it will be sooner than later.

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

I’m always going to be drawn to the glitchy and the imperfect, and I’m pretty happy to capitalise on faults or fortuitous accidents, and to recycle my ‘failures’, these days.  However, I feel that, with continuing practice, I can now produce a technically successful screen print when required.  It’s always tempting to be seduced by the more Warholian end of the medium but, as Nick pointed out, the printers at The Factory knew how to print correctly when required, and all those grungy imperfections were deliberate stylistic affectations in reality.

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

One aspect that certainly did chime with my current preoccupations was the ability to produce numerous variations of the same theme or motif by simply changing colours, ink transparency or the order in which they are laid down, - even as a print run is in progress.  I’ll leave seamless mechanical repetition to the more commercially minded - for now, at least.

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016

Untitled Practice Piece, Screen Print, 18 cm X 18 cm, 2016