If there is one thing that unites the numerous dance music trends of the first decade of the 21st century, it is their lack of soul.
From the progressive house of the early noughties, to techno, electro house, breakbeat, and dubstep, what we like to dance to in clubs has increasingly become, for the most part, dehumanised.
Words cannot express how happy we are that Beatportal won Best Dance Music Website at the 2010 International Dance Music Awards (IDMAs) last night in Miami.
We are truly humbled that so many of our users came out and voted for us, especially considering the tough competition we were up against.
It’s Beatportal’s first ever award and I’ll admit that I even shed a tear or two when I heard the news.
What is the quickest way to lose the respect of an artist? Ask them to describe the music they make.
The last thing dance music producers think about when making beats is what genre category they’ll be on Beatport. At least, that is, any serious artist.
Of course, where there is the genuine, there is the pastiche. And dance music is crippled by a culture of imitation that, too often than not, is driven by a desire to fit into the sound du jour. It’s all about sales. And in this globally connected world, a passing bandwagon resembles a phone booth crammed with a philharmonic orchestra.
How many sub genres and micro movements have been drowned out by the thunderous echo of the sheep horde?
What is the quickest way to lose the respect of an artist? Ask them to describe the music they make.
The last thing a dance music producer thinks of when making beats is what genre category they’ll be on Beatport. At least, that is, any serious artist.
Of course, where there is the genuine, there is the pastiche. And dance music is crippled by a culture of imitation that, too often than not, is driven by a desire to fit into the sound du jour. It’s all about sales. And in this globally connected world, a passing bandwagon resembles a phone booth crammed with a philharmonic orchestra.
How many sub genres and micro movements have been drowned out by the thunderous echo of the sheep horde?
Amy Grill’s long awaited electronic music documentary Speaking In Code will finally hit the streets on March 12th as a DVD after nearly a year of screenings at film festivals and music events such as New York’s CMJ, San Francisco’s Documentary Film Festival, and Boston’s Independent Film Festival.
The film has changed a fair bit since the private screening I attended in Barcelona during the city’s annual Sonar festival in June 2008, although the dedicated director insists it’s all for the better.
If you haven’t heard about Speaking In Code yet, read my initial review here. For a taster, watch the exclusive video clip below which features David Day interviewing Richie Hawtin at Pollerwiesen in Koln – this particular clip was axed from the final movie.
A dancefloor is a garden of humans. Its sun is music, its flowers are people, and its main business is sex and death. Beauty is merely a byproduct.
But no one wants to talk about death – not in the garden, or on the dancefloor – so Swiss producer Raphael Ripperton helps us think about life and its fragile beauty, through his debut album ‘Niwa’, which means ‘garden’ in Japanese.
Through isolated moments of bliss, serene interludes of melody, and samples from the world around us, Ripperton has carefully crafted a lucid and thought provoking house longplayer that took the best part of two years. It is his brave attempt to describe the impermanence that we all face.
With so few dance producers, or artists for that matter, willing to face the subject of death, it is the inclusion of corporeality tracks like ‘At Peace’ and ‘Random Violence’ that push the album towards something profound.
Yet when I catch up with Raphael Ripperton, in his house in Lausanne, Switzerland, I am surprised to hear the voice of a man with unbounded cheerfulness.
He chirps and giggles his words, like a tipsy Frenchman on a bike laden with garlic. Hardly a dark angel. Then again, have you ever met an unhappy gardner?
Mahatma Ghandi once said, “The only tyrant I accept in this world is the ‘still small voice’ within me.” Jeroen Verheij aka Secret Cinema hasn’t laid his life on the line for world peace, but he must know a thing or two about self-belief and dedication.
For 20 years, the Dutchman has worked tirelessly behind the European techno scene, and remained, for the most part, in the shadows, perfecting his craft.
Watch this video on Beatportal
As part of our Black History Month celebrations, we produced this audio interview with one of Chicago’s house music originators, Larry Heard, a producer and DJ who has released house music for over 25 years.
He was responsible for some of house music’s most important moments, including 1988′s ‘Can You Feel It’, and proto-acid gems like ‘Amnesia’ and ‘Mystery of Love’.
Yet despite his mammoth discography and the wealth of house classics he is responsible for, Larry Heard hasn’t once lost touch with the demands of the ever-evolving dancefloor – his 2007 opus ‘The Sun Can’t Compare’ is widely considered to be one of the best house tracks of the noughties.
We sat down with Larry Heard to find out more about his earliest house music memories, his musical influences, and the technology that started his lengthy house music career.
Danton Eeprom is having a busy day, in what is surely his most successful ever month as a recording artist.
“I’ve done about 10 album of the month interviews so far and the reaction has been pretty amazing,” he says, as the throb of London traffic and the pitter patter of rain upon the city streets punctuates his rushed sentences.
The conversation stops, as he asks for directions. “Gotta turn left up there love, then cross over and do a right,” replies a faceless lady.
Danton jumps back on the line, “Sorry about that, I’ve just come from the Russian embassy to get my visa, and now I’m off to another embassy.”
We continue. “I was kind of wondering how it would go down as this album is quite diverse and pretty different to what I’ve done before,” he says.
That is probably the understatement of the year.
Dial Records is an apt name for a label that constantly changes sound.
When Hamburg flat mates Peter M. Kersten and David Lieske started their imprint in 2000, they hoped to create something without musical borders.
A decade later that wish is a reality, but they still plug away nonetheless. Dial Records continues to be a home-from-home for some of electronic music’s most unconventional, and some would say intelligent, sounds, including Pantha Du Prince’s deep house experiments, Efdemin’s understated house and techno flourishes, and Pawel’s melodic excursions.
It is also a place for its co-founders to release their own music. Kersten’s emotionally-charged deep house and minimal techno as Lawrence or Sten, has given Dial an eager following, and Lieske’s own Carsten Jost received plaudits back in 2001 for his album ‘You Don’t Need A Weatherman To Know Which Way The Wind Blows’.
But there is so much more to Dial then mosaic club cuts. From piano concertos, to sugar-laced pop, ambient breakbeat, and sonically sparse soundscapes, Dial offer a rich 360° view of electronic music.
As the label gears up to celebrate its 10th anniversary in March, we sat down with its co-founder Lawrence aka Peter M. Kersten to find out more about Dial Records, its early beginnings, and its greatest releases.
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