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Is music journalism in crisis?

“People misinterpret the job of music writers, that it’s to somehow ensure the health of the music ecosystem. It’s fucking not.” I’ve just asked Michael Hann, former music editor at The Guardian, about the role of the music media in 2019. “The job of music writers is to offer the most reliable and honest information,” he continues. “And to entertain their readers. That’s more or less where it begins and ends.”

Hann’s answer follows a pretty negative line of questioning from me, born out of what feels like a tough period for music journalism. 2018 was the worst year for journalism layoffs since the recession. Music publications like Drowned in Sound and Red Bull Music Academy have been forced to cut entire sections of content or close completely, following the likes of NME, Groove, i-D, The Word, Blender, and Paste. Some surviving publications, like Pitchfork, have announced that their content will not be free to read for much longer, forced to charge readers due to dwindling revenues.

Others are stripping back their editorial, replacing reviews and news stories with sponsored content, so-called journalism written to the specifications of the corporations paying for it. These necessary partnerships with big brands sometimes mean publications are forced to censor the rest of their output for fear of upsetting their sponsors.

Then there’s every writer’s worry about being canceled on social media, huge PR machines pushing the same artists onto the fronts of magazines, and freelance writers being paid next to nothing, if at all. The result, often, is grey, uninteresting writing that makes you wish you’d never learned to read. And if you somehow produce a compelling, original, honest piece of work, it has a fraction of the impact it once would have done—“as much cultural power as someone walking into a forest and smashing your head repeatedly into a tree trunk,” Hann says

There’s also the argument that today’s music malaise, as it is sometimes perceived (the recent dearth of innovation and radical new sounds), is in some part the fault of the media. Jeff Mills, a founding father of techno and by all accounts a deity in electronic music, recently told Resident Advisor that standards in the scene are now too low, and that “media plays a big part in making the standards too low, because they talk too much about people who haven’t done too much.” He went on to say the media should only cover artists who have “done something special. Then it raises the value of everything, and everyone remains at their level until they do something special.” It all suggests an industry in crisis. We’ll get to what “something special” is, but first: here’s what the bloody hell has been going on.

“…for outlets to publish paid-for mixes and premieres under the guise of supporting that artist’s music is to mislead, and thus to fail, their readers.”

Sam Davies

Before the internet, magazines funded themselves through a combination of sales—the $3 or whatever you would pay for each issue—and advertising, the space on their pages bought by companies marketing themselves to readers. As magazines made websites, vast amounts of their content became free to read, meaning readers had little reason to part with their cash and publications became precariously reliant on advertising. Then Facebook and Google began to dominate the online advertising market: in 2018 they took 56.4% of internet ad revenue between them, predicted to rise to 61% this year. This leaves online publications to fight for what’s left, or look for other ways to fund themselves, such as online subscriptions and donations.

Another option is sponsored content, also known as “advertorial,” “native advertising” (because it looks broadly like any other content on the site), or, horrifically, “spon-con.” Publishers say sponsored content currently accounts for 18% of their overall advertising revenues, expected to rise to 32% by 2020.

In the music media, sponsored content deals often come from PR companies representing artists, labels, and events, who offer money to an outlet in return for coverage of one of their releases, gigs, or—most commonly—festivals. Until recently, that meant display advertising (banners with video, image, and text promoting the event), but thanks to Facebook and Google taking all the ad revenue and the widespread use of ad-blockers, marketers now place more value on editorial coverage. This means a PR company funding festival trips for writers, paying for flights, hotels, VIP passes, and all manner of amenities on arrival. In return, the PRs expect editorial on the event, including news posts, previews, features with the artists (look out for all those mentions of the festival in artist interviews), posts on social media, and a review.

If that review is anything less than glowing—and plenty of festivals are hard to enjoy even with unlimited G&Ts—the publication could face some unpleasant conversations with the PRs. I, for one, like others I’ve spoken to, have received bitter emails in response to reviews (including those published in these pages), informing me that my opinion of x-album/event/whatever can’t possibly be accurate because of y-reason, and as a result I can consider myself unwelcome from reviewing anything associated with z-company in future. So far I’ve been backed up by editors, but not everyone is so lucky.

If a publication depends on a PR firm because of the income they provide through advertising, that firm might threaten to pull all their ad money unless a negative review is taken off-site. Increasingly, writers also have to deal with PRs asking to see reviews before they’re published; with survival dependent on keeping their sponsors happy, many have little choice but to oblige, allowing festivals, labels, artists, or their representatives the final say on a review which is about them.

“I have heard a couple of rumours stating that certain female producers have paid to get their music featured or get a cover of a magazine. I think it comes from jealousy…..It is very different from paying your press agent to help you pitch and co-ordinate press, which is like any other service out there.”” — Anastasia Kristensen

Clara Suess, owner of Suess Media, a PR agency that has worked with record labels like Columbia, Insanity, Skint, and Champion and artists like Solid Blake, Stanton Warriors, Pris, and Lia Mice, explains that the situation goes beyond festivals. Although she says she has no personal experience of artists and their publicists buying features or reviews, she is “aware that there are places. I’ve had this discussion with other PRs and they’re like: ‘well, if you’re stuck…’.”

Danish techno artist Anastasia Kristensen explains: “I have heard a couple of rumors stating that certain female producers have paid to get their music featured or get a cover of a magazine. I think it usually comes from jealousy. However, I do not have a proof or knowledge of direct payment to anyone. It is very different from paying your press agent to help you pitch and co-ordinate press, which is like any other service out there.”

Suess continues: “More and more titles are starting to charge for premieres and guest mixes,” she says. To be clear: that’s artists, labels, and PR agencies having to pay publications to have their track or DJ mix featured on their site? “Yeah. It’s becoming more and more common, and when I explain to labels about this they’re usually quite shocked,” Suess says. “Often what happens is platforms say ‘we’ve got a certain number of paid spots, a certain number of free spots, and once the free spots are used up, especially for last-minute requests, they say ‘look we do have a slot for that week for a premiere or a guest mix, but…’.” She won’t tell me which publications, but says it usually costs about £20, before adding that fees are rising with certain outlets, while big YouTube channels already charge far more, including one who once asked her for a four-figure sum.

It’s a symptom of the ridiculously tight margins to which cash-strapped media outlets are having to operate as ad revenues continue to fall. Derek Robertson, former editor at recently shut-down online magazine Drowned in Sound, has already come to terms with sponsored content as a necessary evil: “I think the time to be proud about stuff like that is long gone. My opinion is that as long as it’s clear that it’s being sponsored and as long as the sponsor doesn’t turn round and say ‘you can’t say that’, I don’t see a problem with it.”

But for outlets to publish paid-for mixes and premieres under the guise of supporting that artist’s music is to mislead, and thus to fail, their readers. It becomes even more nefarious when the content in question is an interview or—worse—a review, washed with a sheen of positivity under the influence of sponsors. All this distorts the musical landscape, allowing the artists and organizations with the most money to buy critical favor. To fulfill Hann’s definition of reliability and honesty, publications must not be funded by the same people they are critiquing.

“Could a white artist have made Slikback’s Tomo? Could a man have made Jenny Hval’s Blood Bitch? Could a binary-gender musician have made Sophie’s Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides? It’s the music media’s job to not only cover but to find music like this, to uncover the next Oil of Every Pearl by listening to artists from every walk of life and bringing them to wider attention.”

Sam Davies

Yet since Hann started writing, decades ago, reliability and honesty have been joined by another stick with which to beat journalists over the head. Thanks largely to the proliferation of musicians brought on by the democratization of music-making and music-distribution technology—the fact that there are now so many artists—arguments now increasingly center on what, or whom, music journalists should be writing about. In electronic music, for instance, nobody can seem to agree which artists deserve the media’s attention.

First and foremost, surely, the answer is good music: positive critiques either analyzing what makes a popular track so impactful or shouting from the rooftops about a thrilling act that nobody’s heard of. There’s also rubbish music that needs writing about: stuff that’s getting attention but which a critic dislikes and must dismantle to stop the artists responsible, invariably the big ones who are making the most money, from getting away with it. (As yet I haven’t thought of a reason to write about rubbish music that nobody knows about.)

Jeff Mills believes the music media is failing to perform this simple function. I reach out to ask his definition of the “something special” that makes an artist worthy of coverage. “I think the term ‘special’ means when something is being displayed and performed that we’ve rarely or haven’t heard or seen before,” he says over email. He adds: “I do not believe that an artist with millions of social media ‘likes’ falls into such a category.”

The perceived prominence of so-called “Instagram DJs” in music magazines has led some to suggest social media is skewing our perceptions of which artists are making the best music. “I don’t believe social media turns water into wine,” said Radio 1 DJ Pete Tong on a panel at Ibiza Music Summit (IMS) this year. Magazines might argue the same, and that they’re entitled to analyze how music’s biggest Instagram stars have become so popular. But social media’s popularity contest is driven by visual stimuli—nice pictures and funny stories: hitting the follow button on an artist’s Instagram page doesn’t necessarily indicate a fondness for their music. That’s not to say that nobody who follows, say, Varg on Instagram has listened to Nordic Flora series—probably lots of them have—so water into wine it is not. But considering the many followers who are just there for the photos (not to mention the growing trend of celebrities buying fake followers), it’s no stretch to say that social media can make a £5 Echo Falls look like Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Anyone claiming to be a connoisseur—that is, a music critic—must be able to tell the difference.

“I think it’s great to feature women, but that is not through over-promoting female artists that might not even be talented but just because they are female.” — Steffi

There aren’t many magazines who would admit to covering an artist based on social media alone. There are, however, other possible motivations for featuring musicians who don’t meet Mills’ “special” criteria. Magazine covers today look markedly different from those of 30 years ago, when the likes of NME and Melody Maker were invariably adorned with images of white, male musicians. Today, nearly everyone I speak to seems to agree that we should be writing about music from ethnic minorities, far-flung scenes, LGBTQ+ artists, and women. The motivation for doing so is less clear, but there are two obvious reasons.

The first is that music needs diversity, and that the diversity of sounds being made is inseparable from the diversity of the people making them. Could a white artist have made Slikback’s Tomo? Could a man have made Jenny Hval’s Blood Bitch? Could a binary-gender musician have made Sophie’s Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides? It’s the music media’s job to not only cover but to find music like this, to uncover the next Oil of Every Pearl by listening to artists from every walk of life and bringing them to wider attention. This might be a leap for some, but it seems like no coincidence that techno, a genre dominated by men for 30 years, is now producing little other than inexpressive, self-absorbed (one might say masculine) records. Perhaps years down the line a less homogenous music industry is more likely to produce wild and exciting new ideas—remember them?

The other approach is to actively cover minorities as a kind of initiative for social change. By pushing minority artists, magazines aim to encourage future generations of non-white producers, gay MCs, and women DJs, for example, to get involved in the scene. On that same IMS panel, DJ and broadcaster Jaguar enthused about the positive impact of seeing women and ethnic minorities, like herself, at the top of the scene, mentioning Honey Dijon, The Black Madonna, and Peggy Gou.

But it sometimes feels as though magazines are choosing to cover minority artists with little consideration for how good their music is, promoting an image of diversity at the expense of genuine critique.

German artist Dana Ruh suggests there are some more cynical motivations at play: “In my opinion, the past two or three years as all the discussion about females in the techno scene came up, I just had the feeling some marketing companies saw their chance,” she says. “They looked for young, good-looking women, started to invest in all channels and then it exploded…I guess at this point these magazines started to be interested.”

Though it might not be clear to their readers, many of the minority artists who feature prominently in today’s magazines also happen to be the ones with the largest public backing—not just social media followings but also sponsorship deals with fashion brands and the financial heft of far-reaching PR machines. Revealingly Suess tells me the majority of interviews with artists she represents come about through her approaching writers, not vice-versa; it’s worrying to think of an industry where journalists, rather than seeking out good music themselves, simply write about the artists who marketers tell them to write about.

Dutch artist Steffi concurs: “I think it’s great to feature women, but that is not through over-promoting female artists that might not even be talented but just because they are female.” She also points out that more needs to be done than magazine coverage alone: “The unbalance between male and female is something that has been there for millions of years and should be looked at on a much bigger scale. It takes years and years to change that and lots of work.”

Employing policies of positive discrimination means music magazines performing a role more like that of a charity, working “to ensure the health of the music ecosystem,” as Hann puts it. Doing so at the expense of honest music critiques, arguing that a musician is breaking new ground just because they’re from a minority background, is to sacrifice our role as journalists. It’s easy enough to find good music from the other side of the world, easier than ever in fact. If writing about it also cultivates a more diverse industry, great. But critics do so through critique, through exploring where an artist’s work sits in the world and analyzing what it says about you if it makes you feel a certain way. Simply promoting artists, placing their image wherever you can, and claiming their music is great just because of who they are, is more the job of a PR.

“I think the standards are too low in electronic music. I think the media plays a big part in making the standards too low, because they talk too much about people who haven’t done too much.” — Jeff Mills, via Resident Advisor

Which brings us to Mills’ next answer. Responding to a question about the importance of women in techno, Mills replies: “Probably the best, most interesting DJs that are women are those who have been in the scene for more than a few years. If showing this fresh new crop of women in the most prominent spot of a magazine is showing progress, then it seems short-sighted and is probably a sign that the magazine probably never took women DJs seriously in the first place, even in a male-dominated genre like techno. Are any of the highlighted women DJs we see today known as great technical DJs? Programming geniuses perhaps? Are they exceptional musicians? Have any of them unlocked a special knowledge that catapults Electronic Music to a new height….? Or has just ‘looking sexyIf ’ [sic] behind the DJ set become a skill? If so, then a magazine that uses this as the premise to have this person featured on the cover sits in the category of fashion modeling or acting.”

I put these comments to Steffi and Ruh and both broadly agree. But I’m struck by hypocrisy in Mills’ emphasis on catapulting electronic music to new heights while his own image continues to appear on the covers and home pages of numerous magazines. Mills hasn’t taken electronic music anywhere fantastically new in the last, say, 20 years, and neither have Richie Hawtin, Armin van Buuren, Robert Hood, Kevin Saunderson, or Adam Beyer, artists who continue to grace our favorite pages not because of radical recent work, but because of what they did in a now bygone era.

Then who is “special” enough to be on a magazine cover? I ask Mills if he’ll provide an example of a recent techno record he likes. He declines: “I’ve made it a habit to never critique anyone else’s work because I can never really know the true meaning and purpose of it.” He doesn’t seem to know and god knows I don’t either. But maybe therein lies the problem: nobody in electronic music has really done anything “special” in the radical, never-seen-before sense that Mills means, for some years now, at least not to the extent that any sort of consensus approval has formed among the press, or indeed the general public. That many of the electronic artists pushed back then are still featured prominently today is indicative of a genre in stasis. All journalists can do about that stasis is look for exciting sounds elsewhere, investigating music made by members of previously ignored communities and shining a light on stuff that nobody would hear otherwise.

When there’s nobody too good to ignore, someone will complain whoever ends up on the cover. The solution for magazines then is simply to write about the artists they think are best—whether they’re British or Palestinian, gay or straight, big on Instagram or completely anonymous.

“If a journalist sets out to speak from a position of authority, it should be merely an entry-level requirement that they know their shit top to bottom and inside-out.” — Paul Woolford

Then there’s the question of how to write about music. Any idiot can say if they like an album or not, but part of a critic’s job is providing expertise on the subject, explaining why it’s good and what the artist is trying to achieve with it. Taking this to its logical conclusion, American pop artist Lizzo reacted to a 6.5/10 review of her recent album with the shouty claim: “PEOPLE WHO ‘REVIEW’ ALBUMS AND DON’T MAKE MUSIC THEMSELVES SHOULD BE UNEMPLOYED.” Mills voices a similar opinion, telling me he’s never read a review that correctly describes how he uses the Roland TR-909 drum machine.

“If a journalist sets out to speak from a position of authority, it should be merely an entry-level requirement that they know their shit top to bottom and inside-out,” says producer and DJ Paul Woolford, though he stops short of Lizzo and Mills: “I think expecting critics to be musicians would mean merely a more performative and possibly more boring style of writing. In some ways, the less analytical they can be, the better. This is purely personal preference, but when you throw away the technical context of what you know about the artist/person, and focus on purely how the music inspires emotion, this can be a greater indicator of the strength of a piece of work.”

There are still critics writing passionately and expertly, often with differing opinions—which is great: we can and should debate about music until we’re blue in the balls. But thanks to social media that debate has ballooned wildly out of control, making the music critic just another voice in a chaotic conversation and dramatically shrinking their impact. Where once a critic could write a bad review without fear of a thousand contrasting opinions coming back at them, now anyone who disagrees with your take on a record can tell you why within a few clicks. And rarely does it stop there.

“I spent a week getting death threats from Lana del Rey fans when I gave her album two out of 10,” says Robertson of his time writing reviews for Drowned in Sound. The most esteemed critics may have Twitter followings in the tens of thousands, but such figures pale in comparison to those of musicians, particularly the megastars. As soon as an artist expresses their displeasure at a negative review, millions of fans feel encouraged pile in, informing the plucky so-and-so who dared to criticize their fave just why they’re wrong, unfit to do their job, and unfit to walk the earth.

Most writers I speak to seem resigned to social media vitriol as part of the job (if you don’t have a thick skin, you’re in the wrong business and so on). And that everyone-has-a-voice, everyone-is-held-accountable vibe comprises not just personal attacks, but also indirect tweets obliquely referencing writers, like a playground brat whispering about you just loud enough that you can hear. It can also mean an artist informing the world that, even though your review was positive, you just didn’t get the album; or a musician sniveling that they weren’t referred to by “their alias,” like a child insisting that everyone calls him Batman. All this, combined with the intimidation tactics of PR firms mentioned above, contributes to a tetchy—at times poisonous—atmosphere surrounding contemporary music criticism.

“The inevitable result is an epidemic of positive reviews, an unstoppable tide of seven- and eight-out-of-10s, a tepid porridge of music writing barely distinguishable from press releases.”

Sam Davies

Music’s biggest players, the global artists and mammoth PR firms, are tightening their grip on the industry narrative. Press days, where an artist is given 10 interview Skype slots with journalists in a few hours, are orchestrated by PRs to create safe, identikit write-ups. Surprise album drops, where music is released with no advance listens for members of the press (or no warning at all), leave reviewers just a few hours to listen before making a judgment, leading most to take the risk-free route of half-hearted positivity. The inevitable result is an epidemic of positive reviews, an unstoppable tide of seven- and eight-out-of-10s, a tepid porridge of music writing barely distinguishable from press releases.

“It does seem like the vehemence and the overall temperature of music writing has gone down,” says Simon Reynolds, author and music journalist of more than 30 years. “People seem to expect critics to not let that kind of “fan” mentality into their writing. They seem to think impersonal judgment is possible or desirable.”

But the subjectivity and personality of music criticism, the simple fact that a review can only ever be one person’s opinion, is crucial to its functionality: without it, a review is not really criticism at all. On the subject of Lizzo’s objection to the personal opinions in that review, Robertson says: “OK, so this person didn’t particularly like what you did or whatever, so what? Fucking grow up.”

There’s something of a paradox in that, while artists and PR teams go to new lengths to control and influence critics, a review’s impact is arguably smaller than ever. “What we think of as the core music press is no longer a monopoly, but an ailing sector within a babble of voices,” says Reynolds. “I think it’s the babble—and the way that means any individual writer’s voice, or magazine’s collective voice, doesn’t have as much influence or impact—that discourages people from making big claims for anything.” But why should being just one voice in a crowded conversation lead writers to dilute their opinions? In some ways this should enable critics to say whatever they want, safe in the knowledge that hardly anyone is reading anyway.

“I think free content ultimately has to die, I think the model is dead. If music journalism becomes accessible through payment only, many will stop reading. But maybe a world where only those willing to pay to read in depth stuff about music is to be desired.”

Derek Robertson

What shines through here is a rose-tinted reverence of the past. Before decrying how bad things are today, it’s worth remembering that yesterday was hardly perfect. Considering how overwhelmingly white and male magazine covers were just 20 years ago, the increased prominence of minority artists now is a sign of progress. Is music journalism in crisis? “In some ways, that question is predicated on the notion of having some kind of golden age of music criticism,” says Hann. “I’m not sure that there ever was.”

But changes are needed. Though “independence” is a tricky term to reconcile in music these days, in the media it remains vital; the sooner publications separate themselves from advertorials and sponsorship deals from those with vested interests in music, the better. That could mean an outlet’s income becomes dependent on charging readers. “I think free content ultimately has to die, I think the model is dead,” says Robertson. “If music journalism becomes accessible through payment only, many will stop reading. But maybe a world where only those willing to pay to read in depth stuff about music is to be desired.”

Some will say this is no longer a realistic goal, that free content is now accepted as standard and for it to remain that way, corporate money is a necessary evil. But also crucial and attainable is the music media’s independence from musicians. Social media—especially Twitter—has eroded the barriers between artist and critic, while in electronic music it seems just about every writer is also a part-time DJ who sometimes messes around on Fruity Loops. Meanwhile, there are plenty of producers who also write reviews themselves. That can lead to friendly relationships, but as New York Times film critic A.O. Scott says: “the tension between artists and critics is crucial.” Paramount to our ability to make reliable and honest critiques is our freedom from the influence of those we are critiquing—which includes artists, labels, festivals, and anyone connected with them.

Also important is our ability to choose our subject matter ourselves, not writing inbox journalism based solely on the stuff we get sent by PRs, but seeking out music of our own accord, searching in places nobody else is looking and writing honestly, reliably, and passionately about why it matters—or why it doesn’t. And remembering that we’re not writing for the artists, for the industry, or even for the listeners. We’re writing for the readers.

Editor note: A previous version of this article accidentally misrepresented a quote from Anastasia Kristensen. This has now been updated.

Photos:

Jeff Mills by Jacob Khrist
Anastasia Kristensen by Morten Bentzon
Steffi by Stephan Redel

Podcast 850: Flabbergast

Formed from an unexpected one-off collaboration for a remix for Crackhaus on Mutek_rec in 2003, Flabbergast is the alias of Guillaume Coutu Dumont and Vincent Lemieux. Launched in 2014, it draws on a wide array of influences including jazz and hip-hop, while fusing electronic sounds with organic instrumentation. Since 2014, the focus has shifted from spontaneous live improvisations to focused compositions and an increased presence in recorded music. In 2015, they released their debut 12″, Nr 1, on Circus Company, and they’ve since put out music on Yoyaku, their own Copier/Coller, and Switzerland’s Adam’s Bite—which is where they recently put out Default Mode Network, four tracks of wonky minimal. (Their debut album, Consolation in Constellation, will land on Paris label Chapelle XIV soon.) Their performances fuse DJing with live production; Lemieux on his records with Guillaume on his instruments.

For this week’s XLR8R podcast, they’ve delivered a segment of a recent performance at Le Salon Daomé in Montreal—a memorable night in front of their old friends in their hometown. “It’s always fun when we play over there because there is a good mix in the crowd,” Guillaume says. “Old ravers and younger freaks. That’s when the sauce really thickens.” Tune in for 83 minutes of free-wheeling minimal, techno, and dub, recorded on the fly.

01. What have you been up to recently?
We are currently on tour. We just finished the Berlin leg with a show at Hoppetosse. We have been keeping ourselves busy in the studio lately. Since the pandemic, the amount of music we’ve produced is quite staggering. Some of it will see the light of day in the upcoming month. The Default Mode Network EP is now out on Adam’s Bite, and 11:15 in Your Dream on our own label, Copier/Coller, will come out soon. We can also announce our first album, Consolation in Constellation, on Paris label Chapelle XIV. We are very excited about this one. It’s quite different from everything we did together thus far. This summer we are also releasing a first digital EP on our label. All that material has been created with a Yamaha Electone organ that we named Roberto. Then there will be a second EP for Circus Company.

02. What have you been listening to?
Sault, Jungle…so good.

03. When and where did you record this set?
We recorded this set live at Salon Daomé in Montreal where we do occasional parties. We do two types of show. We have a full on machine live with only our music, like the one we’ll be performing during MUTEK in Dubai or this year’s 25th edition in Montreal. But we also do a hybrid version that usually better suits the club context. In that format Vince plays records while Guillaume plays live on top. It’s a very fun way to improvise and it’s very entertaining for both of us.

04. What setup did you use?
Vince used turntables and CDJs into an Allen & Heath Xone:92 mixer. I had the HandSonic HPD-20 drum pad, Eventide Pitchfactor delay, Waldorf Streichfett String synthesizer, Elektron Digitakt, and the computer and soundcard.

05. How did you choose the tracks you’ve included?
We absolutely never plan our sets. So this is fully improvised. Vince also chooses material that is sometime more stripped down than other tracks he could play in other moments. The fun thing is that we don’t do it in a back-to-back format. There are usually three channels open on the mixer at the same time. It’s a lot of work for Vince to keep all this synced up but I think it helps to create something special.

06. What’s next on your horizon?
We leave for Dubai where we do three shows for MUTEK festival. Then we’ll head over to Tbilisi for a show, and then back to Berlin at Club der Visionaere. Then back to Montreal to finish mixing a bunch of releases. We’ll also have to start preparing our new show for MUTEK Montreal.

XLR8R Subscribers can download the podcast below. If you’re not an XLR8R subscriber, you can read more about it and subscribe here.

Sam Gendel and Sam Wilkes Release New Album

Sam Gendel and Sam Wilkes have released a new album on Leaving Records.

The Doober is the pair’s third saxophone and bass guitar album, following Music for Saxofone & Bass Guitar (2018) and Music for Saxofone & Bass Guitar More Songs (2021). This time Gendel is on on C-Melody saxophone with Wilkes on the Fender Precision Bass.

Tracklisting

01. CIRCLE
02. GBTC
03. RUGGED ROAD
04. BEN HUR
05. TOMBO
06. THE CIRCLE GAME
07. THE EDGE
08. BOA 2
09. TOMORROW NEVER DIES
10. SWEET FIRE
11. MILTON SUITE

The Doober LP is available now. You can stream it in full via the player below and order it here.

Photo: Marcella Cytrynowicz

Jon Hopkins to Release His First Album Since 2021

Jon Hopkins will release a new album in August.

By turns “devotional, empowering, and nurturing,” we’re told, RITUAL is a 41-minute single piece of music unfolding over eight chapters. It is a culmination of themes explored throughout Hopkins’ 22-year career, and acts as the “kinetic counterpart” to 2021’s Music For Psychedelic Therapy, an album made to accompany Hopkins’ guided psychedelic trips.

The album features long-term collaborators Vylana, 7RAYS, Ishq, Clark, Emma Smith, Daisy Vatalaro, and Cherif Hashizume, and it came together within the second half of 2023. Though initial seeds were sown in 2022, when Hopkins was commissioned to compose for Dreamachine, an immersive experience in London created by Collective Act, in collaboration with a team of artists, scientists, and philosophers.

Sonically, the release is both “emotionally and sonically heavy,” we’re told, whilst retaining a warm, live feel, “where the juxtaposition between softness and intensity forms the core of the whole.”

Ahead of the album, Hopkins made the following statement.

“I have no idea what I’m doing when I’m composing. I don’t know where it’s coming from, and I don’t know where it’s going, nor does it seem to matter. I just know when it is finished. So all I can really do is feel my way to the end, then try and retrospectively analyze what might be going on, and try and figure out what its purpose is. What is clear is that this one has the structure of a Ritual. I know what that Ritual is for me, but it will be something different for you. It feels important not to be prescriptive about what this Ritual actually is.

“It feels like a tool, maybe even a machine, for opening portals within your inner world, for unlocking things that are hidden and buried. Things that are held in place by the tension in your body. It doesn’t feel like ‘an album’ therefore—more a process to go through, something that works on you. At the same time, it feels like it tells a story. Maybe it’s the story of a process I’m going through, and one that we are all going through. Maybe it’s also the story of creation, destruction, and transcendence. Maybe it’s the story of the archetypal hero’s journey—the journey of forgetting and remembering.

“Ultimately though, all I have to say about it is said by the sound.“

RITUAL will be premiered in spatial audio at London’s ICA on May 12. Pre-ordering the album will give pre-sale access for tickets. A further listening event will take place at Glastonbury Festival on their “Ambient” stage.

Ahead of the album, Hopkins has shared a video for “part v – evocation,” directed by Dave Bullivant and starring aerial rope performer Bryony Louise Fowler.

The track is defined by deep, hypnotic drums and a long build to epiphanic light. It’s designed to give listeners “a window into the full experience.”

Tracklisting

01. part i – altar
02. part ii – palace / illusion
03. part iii – transcend / lament
04. part iv – the veil
05. part v – evocation
06. part vi – solar goddess return
07. part vii – dissolution
08. part viii – nothing is lost

RITUAL LP is scheduled for August 30 release on Domino. Meanwhile, you can stream “part v – evocation” in full below and pre-order here.

Photo: Imogene Barron

Artist Tips: re:ni

re:ni is the chosen alias of Lauren Bush, a Birmingham, England-born, Dorset-raised, and South London-based DJ-producer. Her musical roots stem from her father, a DJ himself who exposed his daughter to an array of records and hosted parties where he and his friends played sets incorporating soul, hip-hop, drum & bass, and house, among other genres. She found a connection to drum & bass soon thereafter, from partying and via her older friends in her orbit, and began DJing; encouraged by a friend, she bought a pair of decks and spent many months mixing her Dad’s old house records.

Over time, her sound has transitioned to a bass-heavy, rhythmic sound. A move to London has provided her with a steady stream of bookings across the UK and abroad. In 2018, she delivered an XLR8R podcast, a mix of dark and atmospheric rhythms spanning breakbeat, dub techno, and jungle, recorded live at Portugal’s Orbits Festival. A few years later, she released her debut EP, Revenge Body, on Munich’s Ilian Tape, and in February she put out her second outing, BeautySick on Batu‘s Timedance. Ahead of another hectic summer of touring, and in celebration of that release, she took a moment to reflect on the key things she’s learned over her career so far.

Take your time

When Revenge Body, my Ilian Tape record, came out in 2022, I immediately felt a pressure to follow it up; I really wanted to prove myself as a producer because I’d mainly been DJing up until that point and I wanted to show that I could also make good music. I was really proud of that record and I wanted to take advantage of the moment. When people rate what you’re doing it’s natural to want to keep bettering yourself and exceed their expectations.

After the pandemic, when I was touring regularly again, Batu approached me about working on a release on Timedance—something I was really excited about. But because I was playing so many gigs again, rather than being locked down at home, I found it nearly impossible to get back into a rhythm of writing tunes.

Looking back, I realise that my mindset switched; I found myself consumed by just getting stuff finished in the hope they’d be good enough to release rather than just enjoying making music. I was constantly second-guessing myself and putting unnecessary pressure on myself to be creative when I was exhausted from touring.

I later moved back to my parents for six months and something shifted again. I was once writing for fun, without the noise of London and I wasn’t thinking about timeframes and releases so much. Once I let go a bit and just went back to jamming and trying things out, I felt the creative block lift.

Two years passed, in fact. And, with hindsight, I’m so relieved I waited; during that time, my sound has continued to develop and I’ve now released a record I feel I will be happy with in years to come, which I don’t think I would have been had I rushed it. The tiniest details I added or subtracted in the final stages all contributed towards the end result.

I think you have to remind yourself of what you want from music. For me, I know that I want to listen back to my music and know that I executed it as best I could, and for this to happen I need every extra revision and tweak.

I think it’s especially important for me because my sound doesn’t easily fall into a singular genre; my tracks aren’t formulaic. I have to really think and consider what impact they’re going to have on the audience. On the dancefloor. Because I’m not following a pre-existing template or structure I think it takes me more time to get it right. To find the necessary nuance.

I recently unpacked my records after having them in storage and it was such a heartwarming process going through them: remembering where I first bought them, mixes and sets I’d played them in, generally just connecting with the music on a more visceral level. A record collection takes time to build; hours of digging, visiting record shops, practising for hours and hours. And it’s the same with producing. Finding your sound and style doesn’t happen overnight and developing your technique and style isn’t supposed to be easy or quick.

“There’s a great skill in knowing when you’re making tunes because you feel like you should, perhaps to try and please a label or someone, and when you’re making tunes because you feel inspired and you want to express yourself.”

—Re:ni

Don’t try to force creativity

As I mentioned, it can sometimes feel like external pressure or expectation takes away the joy of being creative. In these moments, it’s tempting to keep on pushing, but normally the tunes you’re making might have great elements but they won’t click. You’ll find yourself flogging a dead horse and that’s never a good place to be.

I’ve come to learn that there’s a great skill in knowing when you’re making tunes because you feel like you should, perhaps to try and please a label or someone, and when you’re making tunes because you feel inspired and you want to express yourself.

The best work is definitely in the second category. Your job is to stay there for as long as possible, and step away when you’re not in this zone. It’s not always easy to realise this but the first step is being conscious of it.

You have to remember you’re making music because it’s fulfilling for you, or whatever the initial reason you started producing was.

David Bowie talked about “never [playing] to the gallery”—”the reason you started was there was part of you inside that you wanted to manifest in order to understand better how you interact with the rest of society”—meaning making music was a way of understanding yourself better. Sometimes you need to stop trying, or stop all together and do something unrelated to making music, then come back to it, in order for it to make sense. Starting a remix can help because you’ve already got a framework and often new ideas stem from there.

I know when I’m not inspired because I’ll find myself being lazy. I’ll spend too much time on one idea simply to put myself off from starting something new. But I’ve learned from that.

Recently, for example, I was working on a 120 bpm sort of dubstep tune which I just couldn’t finish. I tried changing the tempo to 140 to see if that was the issue but it completely lost its groove and at that point I knew it was best to abandon it and move on.

That being said, you should always save projects because there might be elements of a tune which work perfectly in another context.

What I mean to say is this: it’s so important to jam and experiment in the studio rather than being focused on turning everything into an end product, however successful you are. Focus less on the end goal and more on the process. The enjoyment. That’s what you started doing this for in the first place, right?

Get comfortable with criticism but remember you’re making music for yourself

When I began releasing music in 2022, I really suffered from imposter syndrome and constantly worried that I wasn’t good enough.

One day I remember receiving an email from a label who was ready to sign a release having never even heard anything I’d made. I sort of had my suspicions that they just wanted a woman on their discography, to be honest. I know things have progressed a lot in terms of representation in this industry, but there are still labels and promoters out there looking to work with women solely to tick boxes and fill quotas, and when you have experiences like this it plays into the imposter syndrome feelings.

All this has shaped my attitude towards criticism, which can be difficult for artists to receive and absorb. I’ve come to value it, provided it’s constructive.

You grow so much out of feedback sessions with friends whose opinions you trust to be honest; and this is a tool that I encourage all artists to make use of. I actively seek it out.

It can crush you if you know they’re not feeling a tune, but you have to abandon your ego and remember people are being honest because they want you to improve and reach your full potential. (That is the people you trust anyway.)

That said, it’s important to use feedback to develop your own style rather than simply following someone else’s instruction. Keep an open mind, and don’t always do what your friends say. They aren’t always right. Because only you are you.

It’s about being open to other people’s takes and advice. But don’t try to make tunes that sound like theirs; instead, use their perspective to inform your own style.

I say this because when writing for someone else it’s easy to fixate on trying to please the label. To make music for them, rather than you. I spent months sweating over whether my tunes were going to be good enough and made it hell for myself.

Search for the balance between taking on board constructive criticism and buckling under the desire to please others. I’m inclined to put extra pressure on myself because of how many times I’ve been told by men I’ve only got certain opportunities for being female rather than being talented. It feels like the stakes are high, and that’s something I’m always fighting!

Nobody else can be you, so be yourself

I recently read an interview with DJ Spinn where he talks about authenticity. “The secret is always looking in the mirror and being better than yourself,” he said.

And it made me think.

I feel like this process of finding authenticity in your music begins even before you open the DAW, in the environment you build around you. Having a home studio in a London flat isn’t particularly inspiring in my experience, so the more personal a space you can make it the better. I feel more creative when I have sentimental artefacts and trinkets around my decks and studio. It could an album or a book that inspires you. Somehow this has an effect on a subliminal level. I believe that.

I also think leaning into your emotions is a great idea. In can be really transformative because you’re making work that embodies whatever you’re going through at that time. Making music has definitely been a healing process and has brought me out of the trenches. In those low patches where interacting with people feels like too much, being creative can be a safe, cathartic space. When I listen back to those tunes now it’s a poignant experience.

As someone who has struggled with mental and physical health issues throughout my adult life I hope this might resonate with others and inspire someone reading to get creative; music and art really can be the best outlet for difficult emotions. Lean in, not away.

At least with DJing, there’s a lot more focus on the individual nowadays than there was pre-socials/pre-streamed content and it has created a pretty dire culture of social climbing and clout-chasing. I’ve spent one too many festivals bumping into DJs who don’t even acknowledge my friends if they’re not DJs or “in the industry.” Raving began as an escape: where you could be anonymous and enjoy this united transcendental experience regardless of anyone’s social status. It definitely feels like that’s got lost a bit.

In the age of social media there’s this pressure to be doing everything, to have your name everywhere, to be associated with certain people in order to further your career. It’s all very individualistic and at odds with the idea of dance music and raving as escapism.

I think you should do the opposite. Stay true to yourself and try to pay less attention to what everyone else is up to; being an online personality or part of a clique is not a genuine, and I doubt very fulfilling, path to success.

Elijah talks a lot about all of this on his socials and one thing he said stuck out to me recently: “You have to go outside to get it done.” My take on this is that you have to put the work in and go deeper than the surface level (i.e of social media clout) to have longevity and garner respect.

Focus on your strengths, but also your weaknesses

In the studio, it’s easy to focus on your strengths. That’s fun. Easy. But you should also develop your weaknesses.

For me, I’ve been DJing for years so arrangement is one of my strengths and comes naturally to me. Once I have a good idea I can fairly quickly build it into a playable structure.

What I find harder is mixing and getting sounds to sit together in a way that maximises their collective impact.

I feel like there’s a lot of comparisons you can make between making tunes and cooking. Where the drums and bass, which are a key part of mixing, are concerned I tend to think of them like baking where you need to be a bit more scientific and strict with amounts or it can all fall to pieces, as opposed to making a sauce or something where you can freestyle and there are no set rules.

I didn’t know any of these rules when I started out. Once I put reverb on my bass! All of it is a learning curve though.

When I’m making a track, I always remind myself that the kicks, bass, and snares are the parts I need to give the most attention to. They’re the core foundation of dance music and when you get those right you don’t need so many other sounds.

I spend a lot of time soloing out my drums, rejigging the patterns so they subtly change throughout the track, resampling and creatively processing one-shots of different percussion instruments that already feature in the track.

I’ll sometimes craft a really nice build or transition from just stretching out a snare hit, reversing it and adding a load of reverb and cutting it off right before the next beat in the bar. You’d traditionally think of pads and ambience providing atmosphere in music but I’ve learned that drums can do so much too.

I want to make music that leaves an impression on you on the dancefloor, which leads me onto another thing I’ve learned.

An important ingredient in this is restraint; being able to strike that balance between weirdness and functionality. I could spend all day playing around with vocals and delays, creating dubby soundscapes and so on, but without strong drums and a solid bassline, these elements swamp the groove of a track.

I’ve been working hard to understand this balance, and how it all fits together. Where does it make sense for a section of a track to be dry and stripped back in order to create contrast and make the trippy parts more impactful?

To do this I remind myself to experiment. To not always make music that I’m going to share with other people.

This is linked to what I said before. Instead of trying to finish tunes, it can be a lot more productive in the long run to spend time just experimenting. There’s so much to learn in terms of layering and EQing and that’s before even getting to processing, where you can be endlessly creative.

On “BURSTTRAP,” for example, I wanted to try something different where the bass was more of a lead, as I tend to go for simple sine subs that are less of the main character. I created a more stereo sound with a phaser and duplicated with a drier version, and although the tune grew into a lot more as I added vocals as a main feature, it was built around the bassline which isn’t usually how I write. I mention it here because making this tune definitely showed me it’s well worth mixing up your process!

Actively practise good habits

This tip refers specifically to DJing rather than production.

When it comes to learning an instrument or a sport, the phrase “practise makes perfect'” has been the gospel. But I don’t think this theory is watertight: through the process of repetition, something becomes a habit, and this also means that bad habits can linger. “Practice makes permanent” is more accurate.

I don’t often bring records to gigs anymore but I play them at home a lot, for fun but also to practise beat-matching and phrasing without the visual cues of CDJs. That’s because I think it’s always good to have a more challenging home set-up so that you’re better equipped to deal with potentially unfamiliar or challenging settings when it comes to playing out.

I read an interview with DJ Bone where he talked about his first home DJ set up being like a bootcamp, preparing him for every possible variable where he might have to adapt so when it came to club shows he was hardy and prepared for anything.

You really have to go into gigs being prepared to adapt, because every club set up isn’t going to be the same and it definitely won’t feel as comfortable as playing from your bedroom. Yes, it’s frustrating when you encounter technical difficulties, for example you play a show and there’s an issue with the monitors or you’re playing b2b with someone who might play in a very different style to you. It feels like you can’t go into autopilot as you would playing at home or solo. But this is all part of being a better DJ; you adapt and learn from mistakes. And by being smart with your home setup, you can make yourself more adaptable.

Photos: Artist’s own

Actress to Release 10th Studio Album

Actress—the moniker of British electronic producer Darren Cunningham—will release a new album via Smalltown Supersound.

Statik is “imbued with a sense of freedom and stillness,” we’re told, because Cunningham wrote the majority of it in an extensive flow state. It follows last year’s LXXXVIII, released via Ninja Tune, and marks his first full length for Smalltown Supersound.

Once “inside” the Statik experience, listeners may well find themselves “newly calm and meditative.” While it’s unmistakably an Actress albums, it’s also “distinctly aquatic and subtly primordial, and so offers his audience novel elemental atmospheres to flow through,” we’re told.

Alongside the album, the Norwegian label has shared “Static,” a shadowy and buzzy ambient track, and “Dolphin Spray.”

The collaboration between Cunningham and the Smalltown Supersound evolved organically following his remix of a Carmen Villain cut for the 12″ of her Only Love From Now On LP.

Tracklisting

01. Hell
02. Static
03. My Ways
04. Rainlines
05. Ray
06. Six
07. Cafe Del Mars
08. Dolphin Spray
09. System Verse
10. Doves Over Atlantis
11. Mello Checx

Statik LP is scheduled for June 7 release. Meanwhile, you can stream “Dolphin Spray” in full via the player below and pre-order here.

Photo: Ola Rindal

Podcast 849: Hugo LX

Hugo LX is a Paris-based DJ-producer born Hugo Lascoux. Although his music is built on the foundation of house, it’s flavored by downtempo beats and touches of jazz, hip-hop, and ambient. His journey began in western France, a place where it was difficult to access music, so he would record Saturday night radio shows on tapes. “I’m a seaside kid that got his taste for music thanks to late night radio programs and music videos,” he tells XLR8R. Though he loved house and techno, he gravitated towards hip-hop and soon started DJing at Parisian breakdance events and using looped breaks and samples to craft his own original jazz- and funk-infused grooves. In 2011, he relocated to Japan, to begin work as an architect, but instead his affection for ambient, jazz and eastern hip-hop, became stronger. On his return, he launched Hugo LX, a project informed by these inclinations, and in 2016 he released four EPs and an album. A year later, he released Akegata, and since then he’s found his way onto Motor City Drum Ensemble‘s MCDE records and launched his own imprint, Doma Music.

For this week’s XLR8R podcast, Lascoux has delivered a techno-leaning mix recorded live from Womb Club in Tokyo for Mutek, filling it with tracks from XLR8R favorites including Kyle Hall, Donato Dozzy, Linkwood, and Wata Igarashi. 

”I had a little urge to leave the house, funk, and soulful spectrum for a second, and Mutek’s techno and electronic inclination allowed me that freedom,” he says.

01. What have you been up to recently? 


For the most part, I’ve been traveling lately, playing gigs in Europe and Asia. 
Ive built quite a strong network with promoters and crews over the years, which makes most trips feel like family visits. It’s a real blessing; most of the fam I get to work with always manage to add a little special treat on top of my visits. It could be some very local places to eat at, or some gorgeous architecture to see. These often fuel my creativity and add to the corpus of works I try to assemble: beats, writings, photos, and drawings, whatever it is. This way I’ve been able to craft quite a bit of music recently, at times working on a chair in front of a wide screen felt less inspiring, although necessary at some stage.


02. What have you been listening to?
I’ve been using the Bandcamp application a lot. I really love to order collectible, small-run wax or cassettes, and then make memories to it while traveling.
 Recently I’ve been listening to both Sam Wilkes and Sam Gendel a lot. Then, Mndsgn of course, Devin Morrison, Knower, Spacek, all the freshest beat stuff. Lots of Japanese ambient. And my automatic “go to” artists: Egberto Gismonti, Milton Nascimento, Wayne Shorter, Robert Wyatt, and Airto & Flora. And on a more danceable tip, I’m really into the music of Kyle Hall, Jon Dixon, K15, Stefan Ringer, Meftah, Deon Jamar. That for me represents a sort of new golden age of dance music on its own!

03. What is it that appeals to you about electronic music?
Energy and details. I remember hearing Ron Trent mention the high power of electromagnetic sounds when using analog equipment, and I could totally relate to it, although I use mixed techniques and digital devices. Like, how very few elements can bring so much energy out of our bodies, and the level of detail that tickles our brain cells. There’s a certain magic to it!

04. When and where did you record this set?
This set was recorded at Womb Club in Tokyo on December 9, 2023, for the Japanese edition of Montreal-based Mutek Festival.


05. What setup did you use? 


Two Technics SL-1200MK7’s, three Pioneer CDJ-3000s, and a Pioneer DJM-900NXS2
. Whatever set up I’m provided, I try to make the most out of it!

06. What made this recording so memorable?
I was actually very sick during that Asia tour! it’s one of these rare times I wasn’t sure I could actually perform, especially in Taipei and Jakarta.
 Fortunately, I received a lot of care and support, and I felt extra motivated. Also, listening to a DJ Sodeyama live set downstairs was inspiring and very energizing.


07. How did you choose the tracks you’ve included?
Even though I kept a certain house groove as a common denominator to most of the tracks I selected, I relied on quite a few techno elements and deeper cuts.


08. What’s next on your horizon? 

I’m currently putting the very final touches to my long delayed new album.
 Not a dance music project, more of a mixture of my downtempo, beats, jazz, and ambient inclinations, with a certain groove and a certain texture to it.
 This is one very special project, very dear to me as I got to enlist all my usual musician crew at once, which is a rarity with everyone touring so hard lately. Plus, I finally got the occasion to invite an artist I’ve been wanting to collaborate with for more than 10 years! I can’t wait for everyone to dream to, drive to, and live to this music.

XLR8R Subscribers can download the podcast below. If you’re not an XLR8R subscriber, you can read more about it and subscribe here.

Tracklisting

01. OCB “It’s Alright” (Astro Fever Records)
02. Modes “M52” (Spazio Disponibile)
03. Kaoru Inoue “On The Road” (Seeds And Grounds)
04. KMFH “A2” (Self Released)
05. Roman Lindau “Sub Suggestion” (Fachwerk)
06. Donato Dozzy & Anna Caragnano “Parola” (Rework) (Spazio Disponibile)
07. Kyle Hall “The Cosmic Touch” (Apnea)
08. Gonno “Energy Flash” (Jin)
09. Laguna “Crossing Avenue” (Spazio Disponibile)
10. Tim Jackiw “Invisible Prison” (Self Released)
11. Call Super “I Love Like Your Men” (Can You Feel The Sun)
12. Architectural “Biding All In” (Remix) (Chapter Records)
13. Wata Igarashi “NRO” (WIP)
14. Linkwood “Nae Drama” (Night Theatre)
15. Hieroglyphic Being “The Lust Within” (Self Released)
16. Danton Eeprom “The Infinite Symbol” (Tsuba)

Photo: Marco Miraglia

Kiasmos to Release ‘Playful’ Second Album

Kiasmos, the duo of Icelandic composer Ólafur Arnalds and Faroese musician Janus Rasmussen, will release their second album on Erased Tapes.

II is the “triumphant followup” to their self-titled debut in 2014, which re-envisioned minimal techno with orchestral flourishes and weightless production.

Across 11 tracks you can “clearly hear how Kiasmos have evolved as sonic architects,” we’re told, in the deeper acoustic textures, atmospheric ambience, restless grooves, and ambitious string arrangements.

“It’s bigger, both in sound and production,” says Rasmussen. “The music has matured yet there’s a playfulness to it.”

They worked on a lot of II during the lost year of 2020 and 2021.

In Bali, they sampled traditional Balinese percussion like the gamelan and incorporated Rasmussen’s field recordings of their natural surroundings.

The album follows Flown, an EP that the pair released in March featuring three of the album’s tracks.

Along with the album announcement, they have shared a new single, entitled “Burst.”

Tracklisting

01. Grown
02. Burst
03. Sailed
04. Laced
05. Bound
06. Sworn
07. Spun
08. Flown
09. Told
10. Dazed
11. Squared

II LP is scheduled for July 5 release. Meanwhile, you can stream “Burst,” “Flown,” “Told,” and “Dazed” in full via the player below, and pre-order here.

Podcast 848: Brawther

Sammy Gouyette, the Parisian DJ-producer better known as Brawther, is driven by a “profound love” for house music,” he tells XLR8R. His journey towards that love began in the late ’90s with ambient and experimental IDM from people like Aphex Twin and the Rephlex label peers, but after multiple holidays in the UK he discovered deep house and eventually artists like Pépé Bradock and St.Germain, who became his main influences. He’s been trying to create that same vibe ever since. In the efforts, over a career spanning nearly 15 years, Gouyette has become a champion of the genre, effortlessly weaving together the elements of the past and present, allowing its essence to shine through as much as possible. Much of his original music has landed on Cabinet Records or Balance Recordings, the label of Ron Trent and Chez Damier, and that includes Endless, his debut album from 2015. He takes pride in his music’s ability to resonate with individuals, fostering an intimate bond that transcends the limitations of time and space.

In line with that, for this week’s XLR8R podcast, he has delivered just over an hour of deep and hazy house, pulling from artists including Elephunk, Atlantic Fusion, The Biffters.

01. What have you been up to recently?
Lots of travel, some to new territories, and the usual balancing act of being a DJ, producer, father, husband, label owner. And a master of none!

02. What have you been listening to?
Besides the sporadic digging spree online and on my travels, I tend to not listen to dance music at home and usually tune in to a bunch of digital radios that broadcast reggae, ’80s boogie, boom bap, and classical. We have a little Bose speaker in my living room with pre-programmed channels that run in the background for most of the day.

03. What is it that appeals to you about electronic music?
Besides the music itself, which encompasses so many different kinds of rhythms, tempos, flavors, and styles, it’s the social experience of it; the act of dancing and sharing the moment with other people who enjoy the same music. For example, there’s something different about a proper house night with a proper sound system where everyone is locked in the music.

04. When and where did you record this mix?
I recorded this mix at home in Lisbon, Portugal around the back end of the pandemic. I must have recorded about 25 mixes during that time!

05. What setup did you use?
Two Technics SL-1210MK5 DJ Decks and a Vestax PMC 250 rotary mixer.

06. How did you choose the tracks you’ve included?
I usually spend a lot of time piecing the whole thing together. I’ll often look for a good intro and then build from there, like pieces of a puzzle, trying to create a journey. This one is in the vein of my hazy grooves mix series that I was doing during the pandemic. Deep, slower and hazy.

07. How does it compare to what we might hear you play out live?
It would probably be more akin to a deeper after-hours kind of setting or maybe something I could play at Heideglühen in Berlin, which has a crowd that loves that deep stuff.

08. What’s next on your horizon?
I am celebrating the 10 years of Dungeon Meat with my partner Tristan Da Cunha and we have a heavy touring schedule ahead of us.

XLR8R Subscribers can download the podcast below. If you’re not an XLR8R subscriber, you can read more about it and subscribe here.

Tracklisting

01. Solid Gold Playaz “Intro” (Solid Gold Records)
02. Elephunk “Emerald” (Bosh)
03. The Coastal Commission “Fucked Up Day” (Seductive)
04. Fred Everything “Mama” (Remake Part 1) (Earth)
05. The Biffters “Remember” (The Sunset) (Spacefunk)
06. Distant Strangers “Do Anything” (Distant Strangers)
07. Autonomous “Life Music” (Low Pressings)
08. Unknown “Unknown” (Unknown)
09. Elektric Suedehead “Micklefield Skyline” (Elektric Suedehead Rewire) (Mighty Atom)
10. Solid Gold Playaz “Movement Of Venus” (Kanzleramt)
11. J-Rod & Pat Nice “Capacity” (Roam)
12. Atlantic Fusion “Don’t Fail Me Now” (Moonlight Mix) (Fluidity)
13. Unknown “Unknown” (Unknown)

Photo: Beatrice Neumann

Download an Ableton Live Set From Nadia Struiwigh

In a world where conformity often reigns supreme, the pressure to neatly categorize and label our music into different genres can sometimes stifle creativity. However, for multifaceted artists like Nadia Struiwigh, these pressures serve as poignant reminders to assert individuality. 

Drawing inspiration from the visual cues of her surroundings and the self-described fairylands of her imagination, Struiwigh crafts nuanced, eclectic compositions that exude elegance and defy categorization. Her genre-fluid output spanning techno, ambient, and electro, emerges as a unique blend of experimental electronica, which has found homes on esteemed labels such as Central Processing Unit, Nous’klaer Audio, and Dekmantel. 

Beyond the studio, Struiwigh’s live sets and DJ performances traverse a full spectrum of sensibilities and styles. Hints of techno and drum and bass provide familiar footholds, only to be quickly swept away into the uncharted territories of her distinct auditory landscape. 

In partnership with Ableton, we talked with Struiwigh about her life as an independent artist, and the technical and philosophical concepts underpinning her work. For an inside glimpse into her creative process, she has also shared the Live Set of her new track “Leelow Waters.” 

Download the Live Set to Nadia Struiwigh’s track “Leelow Waters” here*

*Requires a Live 12 Suite license or the free trial.

Please note: This Live Set and included samples are for educational use only and cannot be used for commercial purposes.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with us today, Nadia. Can you tell us a bit about your background and what inspired your journey into music-making?

Sure, it all began when I was quite young. Instead of just listening to songs, I naturally perceived frequencies and began observing various elements in music. Like most teenagers, I reached that phase where I started going to parties and raves. One time I was raving and suddenly someone asked, “Hey do you maybe feel like DJing at our party.” I’d never DJed before so I said, “Err, yes sure.” I started making music quite soon after. My partner at the time had a laptop with Reason installed. I still remember the moment I took it onto my lap, in bed, and just started making a track with my headphones on. 

What do you think has motivated you to keep creating music since?

If I don’t make music for a week I feel like I haven’t expressed myself. Like if I go on holiday, even though for a lot of people it’s amazing to go away for two or three weeks, I become super restless. I need to create. For me it’s a must just to have a release; a way to communicate with other people. Making music is basically my main language. If I need to express myself, sending someone a track to convey how I feel is better than using words.

Which other artists have inspired your work?

I grew up with Enya and Genesis, and there was Dire Straits from my Dad’s side. It was nice to grow up around that kind of music because it had soul; it came from the heart. They made music with the tools they had at the time. And now, even though we have AI and so on, it can never go there. 

Later, I discovered more electronic music. I rode the Aphex Twin train. I was into Boards of Canada, Om Unit, and Debridge. Clarke was a big inspiration. Border Community was like a whole episode in my life. And James Holden’s work inspired me greatly. It showed me that experimental music is much more connected to the soul than we realize. 

Would you describe the music you make today as experimental?

Years ago a good friend described my music as electronic soul. And I think that is it. But I make every genre because I think they are all a part of who we are. I don’t want to limit myself. If I’m feeling super energetic for example, that can be translated into an energetic techno track. But if I try to make a techno track just because I have a goal in my head to do so, within five minutes, I’ll know it isn’t going to work. This happened to me last night, so I switched to ambient, and it turned out to be one of the best pieces I’ve ever made. If you can really tap into your true self and the way you’re feeling in the moment, you’ll know exactly what kind of genre you want to make.

Do you encounter any challenges marketing yourself as a multi-genre artist?

Normally, once you’re stamped with a certain genre, whether it’s techno, EDM, or whatever, it’s easier to sell. But every time that happens to me, I pull myself back and say, “No, this is not all I am.” I don’t want to be associated solely with one kind of energy. I’ve had to work really hard to trust my own thinking and beliefs to be able to do this.  

Did you ever have any formal music training?

No. But, when I was younger, if I heard a song I could immediately play it on a keyboard without even knowing which notes. They call it “absolute pitch,” so I can tune into scales easily. I’ve started to realize that in classical training, or any genre of schooling, they offer you methods to work with and express yourself, but I’ve developed my own methods. When I create music, I channel strong emotions. Last night, for example, I created an ambient track in just 30 minutes, because I was so in touch with what I was feeling. So, it’s not always about specific tools or techniques; it’s about what we feel. This is what I think about when I create my music. It’s not about individual elements like needing a kick, or needing that. No, it’s about the energy, the frequencies and the palette you will work with. It’s a universal language.

Can you recall any key moments or events that kick-started your music career?

I still know exactly when it happened. It was in 2017. I had been making my first album, Lenticular. Lenticular refers to the phenomenon where the surface of an object can appear different when you move it from left to right. It’s a cool way of looking at light. I have a big love for this because it shows how we can shift from one side to another and see something different. This is how I think people perceive life. We have these different filters. So that became the concept of the album. Anyway, I remember taking it along to the Ninja Tune ADE meet-up. I was one of three ladies participating in a demo drop. I was so shy. They put on my demo and I was like, “Omg they will burn me down.” But Peter from their A&R department came up to me and said, “Wow, who are you girl? Your music is something else, please keep doing that.” Luckily at the time a friend of mine was releasing music on CPU Records from Sheffield. Chris at CPU said to me, “Yeah let’s do it, let’s release this record.” I was jumping on my couch saying, “Is this really happening or am I too early? No, this is really happening!” At that time the label was really pumping, so the album got out there in all directions. An actor from The Wolf of Wall Street movie even reached out to say, “Your music is amazing! I listen to it every time I have to perform.” Someone at Ninja Tune also wrote and said, “I’d buy your records.”

After that, things started to flow. I got bookings. But then I became very ill for four years. I had to cancel everything. It was a horrible time. My whole life shifted, my friends shifted, and my perspective on life shifted. In the end, I’m happy that it happened because the younger me could not handle the music industry. I was saying yes to everything and it was exhausting. But now, I’m catching the wave again, I can feel it.

Have you always been in a position to pursue music full-time, or did there come a point where you had to take a leap and quit your day job?

A lot of people ask me this. It’s one of the hardest things. I bailed out of school to do music. I was that dedicated already. I was studying interior design and architecture but I was only submitting 2D projects, like videos with music. The teacher said, “Nadia, I don’t think this is the school for you if you want to do this.”

I went into freelancing because I knew my creative skills were my security system. If things didn’t work out with my music, I could rely on them. I taught myself how to be a web developer and a designer, and I’m writing now too. 

I had separate email addresses for graphic design and music, and I noticed a shift – more emails were landing in my music inbox than in the graphic design one. I realized my music was gaining traction, allowing me to do less design work.

Then the pandemic hit and all my shows were wiped out. But I could still fall back on my other skills. When I lived in Australia I landed a job with Nikon as a brand designer, so I was always capable of getting those jobs. Eventually, I left my day job. But I had like zero in my bank account. So I had to ask myself, “OK, Nadia, what are you going to do?, because we need to earn money.” But I still took that leap of faith; even in those hard moments. 

This year, after a long journey I’ve been able to let go of everything that I was tied to contractually. I just work for myself now. It’s crazy how much things can change in only two years if you just focus and believe in yourself.

You are also known for your passion for music gear. What were some of the influential factors that contributed to that?

While I was growing up my Dad worked in tech. He was employed at various companies in high-up positions. He would always come home with the latest gadgets, so it was programmed into my DNA to become a tech nerd I think. Instagram later became a platform where I could share my passion for music gear. My account grew super fast as I exchanged knowledge and built an online community around it.

Let’s look at the Live Set you’ve shared. Could you shed some light on the inspirations behind the track and its title, “Leelow Waters”?

When I make music, I often find myself immersed in a sort of fairyland—I’m not even fully present in the real world. I inhabit my own world filled with hopeful and inspiring creatures. That’s a bit reflective of who I am; I love Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and all these sci-fi fantasy stories. 

“Leelow Waters” is essentially one chapter in a fantasy concept I’ve been developing. All these names come to mind spontaneously—they just pop up. I could probably write a whole book about it because it’s like a vivid painting in my mind. Essentially, I’m painting the entire scenery with my music.

Is there any particular methodology underpinning the way you produced “Leelow Waters”?

I saw this project as an opportunity to refine my skills in software again. Sometimes I like to work in the box; it can enable my creativity in different ways. I’m usually quicker with hardware, but overall, this track just came together differently.

Drum Racks seem to play a significant role in the project. You’ve chosen some interesting kits with nuanced hits, noises, and textures. 

Yes, I often use sounds from the Drum Racks in the Ableton Live library; because I feel you don’t always need to reinvent the wheel. Sometimes I like to create things from scratch; it feels therapeutic. But other times, I just want to compose. I want to find elements that resonate with my soul, and then I’m able to work quickly. I’m very quick with composing. I see it like painting. I start with a base coat and then add layers of color on top. 

Do you ever hit creative blocks when composing and if so how do you overcome them?

I strongly believe in the power of deletion. Rather than getting stuck in a loop, I make the composition as full as possible, then step back and assess if anything needs to be removed or added back in. My tracks tend to be longer than shorter so another function I use in Ableton Live is “Delete Time” (CTRL/CMD + SHIFT + X). I love it.

The drum patterns in your track are intriguing. Where did you draw your inspiration for them?

There are several ways I do my drums. I have a Push 3 which I put on repeat mode, so I can just repeat and overdub different hits. And again, I’ll make the drum patterns really full at first and then I’ll delete things until they make sense. 

I sometimes also convert a drum loop that I love into MIDI, so I have the groove but can use my own sounds. 

Sometimes I just want to get inspiration and that’s what I love about Ableton Live 12. There are these new generative MIDI tools which you can get a lot of ideas from. Before I would just use my mouse to click some notes into the grid and just listen. But now it’s become a lot easier because of this whole new world of features.

Do you typically record your own finger-drumming on Push 3 to build up your patterns or do you prefer to use step sequencing?

In this track, I played most of the drums on Push 3 in real time and then copied the MIDI patterns onto other tracks. If you look at the tracks in my project called, DRUMS1 and DRUMS2 they’re the same MIDI parts but I’ve chosen different starting points to create a kind of polyrhythm. 

On DRUMS2 I’ve used alternative sounds because even though it’s the same pattern it sounds totally different. Every sample has a different attack or release so the timing also shifts. It just creates this different groove. I love to play like that.

Also, if you look at the first Drum Rack, you’ll see the C1 cell is empty. This was where the kick was. But, I dragged and dropped that to a different channel. I always extract the kick because I want to have it clean. Then I can put a compressor on it to bump it up without affecting the rest of the drum kit.

Struiwigh creates polyrhythms by offsetting the start points of her MIDI drum patterns.

Did Push 3 feature in any other parts of your music-making process?

I also used it for playing keys, such as with the Massive X pads, and for recording automation. Also, I use the Push to check how my tracks work live. I gather all the clips and elements I want to use, then use it as a live instrument. This allows me to think about how I can build the track in real time. Afterward, I go to the Arrangement View in Live to map out the structure. I also enjoy exploring scales with Push because, as I mentioned, it helps me understand what works and what doesn’t in real time. It allows me to click less and be more expressive and intuitive with hardware.

Struiwigh uses Push 3 to play beats and melodies, to record automation and to sketch out song structures in real time.

There are some interesting static and filtered noise elements in your track. What techniques do you use to create those types of sounds?

The thing with noise is, it fills up a big portion of the frequency spectrum and I feel like it keeps things interesting and not too loopy. That’s why I use noise textures a lot of the time. I believe there are two ways of working with noise. One is to embrace total randomness, where there isn’t necessarily a discernible pattern. The other involves creating a pattern out of noise, so it becomes like part of the percussion. You can hear this approach in tracks by artists like Alva Noto. He makes textures with subtle beeps and nuances that feel quite structured. What I often do now is have a noise element as a wav. file in my project. I then use the Beat warp algorithm in Live and the Transient Envelope function to create a rhythmic gating effect. I’m fascinated by the extent to which even the smallest sounds can have a significant impact.

You’ve used the Auto Pan effect on a lot of the tracks in your project, what is the reason behind that?

Yeah, I love it, I always use it. So if you think about it, we never perceive sounds as static; they’re always moving. Like if you hear a car coming by, its sound is directional. I aim to create that experience for people. If all my sounds remain static, it feels unnatural. This approach works particularly well with pads. When you add movement to them, they become like the ocean; like waves. So, it’s not just about the sound’s frequency; it’s also about its position in space. I almost always use the Auto Pan effect to create movement. It’s really easy to use and doesn’t eat too much CPU. I also use the ping-pong Delay because it adds a subtle back-and-forth motion to sounds. If everything is in the center, it becomes challenging to mix down your track because it results in a big ball of frequencies in one place.

Struiwigh uses Auto Pan to create directional movement in her sounds.

When designing music for a club system there isn’t much scope for panning though, right?

It’s true, in a club environment, it’s usually all mono. This is why I always check my mix in mono. If it still works, I know it’s a good mix.

Nadia, thanks for talking to us today. Before you go, what’s on the horizon for you over the rest of 2024?

I’m launching my new label, Distorted Waves, which “Leelow Waters” is released on. There are a lot of shows coming up which I am grateful for; so summer will be pumping. Then I’m going to branch out with the music school that I am building. I’m already in the process of bringing it to fruition. Releasing-wise, hopefully, a second album and lots of collaborations are coming. I think this is a flying year and I’m happily flying with it.

Thom Yorke Composes Original Score for Daniele Luchetti’s “Confidenza”

Thom Yorke has composed the original score for Daniele Luchetti’s film “Confidenza,” an adaptation of the Italian drama based on Domenico Starnone’s novel of the same name.

“Confidenza” follows Yorke’s previous full-length score and original soundtrack for Luca Guadagnino’s 2018 “Suspiria” remake.

Produced by Sam Petts-Davies, “Confidenza” sees Petts-Davies and Yorke working again with the London Contemporary Orchestra alongside a jazz ensemble which included Robert Stillman and fellow The Smile bandmate Tom Skinner.

In 2019, Yorke contributed music to Edward Norton’s “Motherless Brooklyn,” and in 2022 he wrote two original tracks for the series finale of Peaky Blinders.

Alongside the announcement, XL Recordings has shared a music visual for single “Knife Edge,” starring Elio Germano and Federica Rosellini, featuring its sequence from the film re-cut by “Confidenza” editor Ael Dallier Vega, and a b-side track titled “Prize Giving.”

The score’s intro track, “The Big City,” was teased by Yorke in February within his playlist for The Smile’s BBC 6 Music Artist in Residence series.

Yorke has recently been touring with The Smile (Tom Skinner, Jonny Greenwood, Thom Yorke), who released their second studio-album, Wall of Eyes, in January.

Tracklisting

01. The Big City
02. Knife Edge
03. Letting Down Gently
04. Secret Clarinet
05. In The Trees
06. Prize Giving
07. Four Ways In Time
08. Confidenza
09. Nosebleed Nuptials
10. Bunch Of Flowers
11. A Silent Scream
12. On The Ledge

XL Recordings will release the film’s original soundtrack on April 26, with vinyl and CD to follow on July 12. Meanwhile, you can stream “Knife Edge” and “Prize Giving” in full via the player below and pre-order here.

Photos: Steve Tanner

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