Techno icon Josh Wink has been making music for 21 years. As a kid, he was so hungry to break into the early rave scene in his hometown of Philadelphia, PA, he’d work the clubs as a bar-back in order to hand off his mixes to the managers. Apparently, that kind of tenacity is what has made Wink what he is today: a busy DJ/producer taking his style of tribal techno around the world, all while running his own record label, Ovum. And that’s not to mention the success of his most recent album, When A Banana Was Just A Banana, which was recently given the full remix treatment from a list of house and techno’s finest. We were able to shoot over some questions to Wink, who was kind enough to squeeze us in whilst airborne. He gave us a list of his top three favorite tracks he’s written, what he loved and hated about ’90s raves, and a killer recipe for his favorite banana-based treat.

What can you hear now, as you answer these questions?
People talking, announcements, airplane engines, things you can imagine if you were on an airplane.

Which of your many monikers could you do without? And if you had to add one in its stead, what would it be?
I’m happy with my past (except for remixes of my original music without my approval) and my past monikers. Everything has led up to now, and I’m cool with this.

What do you miss the most about old-school rave culture?
There was an innocence of that time, which, unless you were a part of it, it’s hard to imagine. Maybe the innocence was just that we were all younger and exposed to a new style in music that was just blossoming.

And what were you happy to see disappear?
Love to say glowsticks, but I think they’re still around.

Tell us a funny story about being an underage DJ in Philly.
Well, the only way I could get into the clubs when I was under 21 was being a bar-back at a club. I was 18 and giving my mixed tapes to the manager of the club while I was cleaning glasses and stocking beer. Also, when I started getting gigs at the clubs at 19 years old, my friends, who were the same age, wanted to visit me in the club and couldn’t. So, I used to have to either sneak them in the club or sign a waiver on behalf of them saying that they would be in the booth with me and not drink.

What’s the new hotspot in Philly?
Don’t really know. Something weird about always being on the road and traveling is not knowing what’s going on in Philly.

If you could go back and change anything about your first EP, Tribal Confusion (released as E-Culture with King Britt), what would it be?
Nothing.

When exactly was a banana just a banana?
1982, or the time right before becoming a teenager.

And what is a banana now?
It’s everything you want it to be. Endless! HAHA!

We read that you’ve worked a bit with Trent Reznor. What was that all about?
He recorded vocals on “Black Bomb” from my HearHere LP. He’s very talented!

What inspired the feminine name of your record label, Ovum?
Life. It was/is about life music. And the basis of life is the ovum.

If you were in a bar fight, would you rather have Carl Craig, Carl Cox, or Carl Winslow on your side?
We’re all lovers, not fighters.

You like to give out “useless/interesting info” on your Twitter feed. How about an exclusive fact for us?
In my 21 years of making music, this is the second interview I’ve had with your magazine.

Top three favorite tracks you’ve written. Go!
That’s a hard one, but if I could only chose three [they ‘d be] “Higher State of Consciousness,” “Liquid Summer,” and “I’m on Fire.”

Banana split, banana cream pie, or banana bread?
See if you can guess.

1.5 cups spelt flour
1 tbs baking powder
1 tbs cinnamon
pinch sea salt
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup coconut oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup almond milk
1 tsp apple cider vinegar.
toasted pecans or walnuts
2 bananas (mashed)
(all organic ingredients if available)

“We need TOTAL coverage!”

I kept repeating that line from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and my photographer, Kelly O, was clearly getting sick of it. It was 5:30 a.m. at the final day of last week’s Gathering of the Juggalos, and we’d already been privy to a stabbing, a bricking, some country-bumpkin cocaine, and a guy named “Kiltman,” who forgot where his penis was. We’d wandered too deep, drank too many shitty beers, and though we were on assignment, there was a growing suspicion that the Big Laugh behind this trip was actually on us. It was time to leave this place—back to the relative security of the Bible Belt.

The trip started innocently enough on Friday morning. We drove from Nashville to the very southern tip of Illinois, right across the Ohio River from Kentucky, to a small town called Cave-in-Rock. The Gathering of the Juggalos was about 10 minutes from there, down some graveled-out, winding roads that were barely marked. By the time we got close, it was already pitch-black outside—the only light I saw came from an ambulance and a few cop cars that were parked about four miles from the grounds. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but those cops were the last law enforcement I would see for the rest of the weekend.

As we entered through the main gate, people were shuffling around like zombies; the heat was oppressive and the bugs were even worse. But the Juggalo family mentality was in full effect—everyone was greeting each other with a “whoop whoop” that was so automatic, it was both reassuring and creepy.

Comedian Tom Green was doing his stand-up routine to an enthralled audience sitting on bales of hay, so we decided to find some beer. A couple of nearby Juggalos had a 24-pack of Coors Lite, so we began talking with them about beer and heat and eventually, the real meat and potatoes: a stabbing that occurred about an hour before we arrived. Could have been B.S., but it turned out a 49-year-old man named Mark Rice was later arrested for the crime. “Y’all better be careful out there. Whoop whoop,” was the last thing the guy told us before we headed towards the second stage, where Tila Tequila and Lil Kim were about to play.

The ghetto was mad hot

Seriously, it was like 93 degrees and humid

Walking through the festival grounds reminded me of techno camp-outs from 10-plus years ago in Wisconsin, or really, ’90s raves in general. People wearing hardly any clothes, doing an excessive amount of drugs, and just blowing off some steam for few days. So it wasn’t that alien to be there, and in a lot of ways, it was pretty cool. Almost non-existent security, no cops, no rules, and yet the Juggalos were kinda, sorta coexisting. Aside from the stabbing and brick throwing, at least.

Speaking of bricks, there’s been a lot of noise over the Tila Tequila incident, but I found a couple things more disturbing than the brick toss. One was that a few Juggalos I was talking with (pictured above) were absolutely enraged at how “unbelievably fake” Tila Tequila’s boobs were. They couldn’t stop talking about it—how unrealistic the shape was and how they “wouldn’t even” engage in sexual relations with her because of them. Secondly, I spotted several men running into the port-a-johns to grab feces from the reservoirs so they could throw the waste on stage. That was weird.

Someone called Tila Tequila a “dirty cunt,” and this young man threatened to hit him with his nitrous tank

After the Tequila brick toss, Sugar Slam, the blonde, pig-tailed woman from the Gathering infomercial came out and told everyone the second stage “Ladies Night” was done. So we began a long wander back to the car, only to get sidetracked by Vanilla Ice at the “Freakshow” tent. He was self-consciously playing “Ninja Rap” when we came up, saying self-deprecating stuff like “who still remembers this SHIT? Whatever, I fuckin’ love this song!” while holding up a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doll. Later, a series of women got on stage and took most of their clothes off during “Ice Ice Baby.” We stayed there until 6 a.m., and felt pretty positive about the experience.

These two were in the crowd during Vanilla Ice. I envied their bond.

There were all sorts of bizarre things you could do during the day at the Gathering: oil wrestling, helicopter rides, attend seminars on making it in the music industry, etc. But the one thing we missed that I regret was the Ms. Juggalette contest. I say this with total and complete sincerity, because I have no idea how they’d base their judgments. So many hardcore Juggalos that we met had a very old-fashioned take on what women should and shouldn’t show—I wouldn’t say it was puritanical, but (for example) showing boobs without warrant was not held in high regard. These women were actually referred to as “garbage dumps,” and there were many of them at the Gathering.

Saturday night into Sunday morning was met with a collective exhaustion, especially noticeable after Twiztid’s set on the main stage at 11 p.m. The heat was still atrocious, and a lot of Juggalos had been camping since Thursday, probably without any sleep. It seemed a perfect time to take a visit to the “drug bridge.” Nothing more than a short, over-lit bridge that connected one side of the campgrounds to the main stage area, where hundreds of people were buying and selling muscle relaxants, cocaine, marijuana, acid, lean, and much, much more. I’ve never seen so many drugs bought, sold, and traded so freely.

This man requested we blur out his face

We ran into this man at one of the Juggalo beer tents. Unfortunately, I didn’t get his name, but I thought he was one of the more intelligent guys we encountered over the weekend. Bear in mind that he’s talking on a megaphone in front of a bunch of other Juggalos, so there’s a bit of a peanut-gallery effect going on here.

I was pretty excited to see Slick Rick, Tone Loc, and Rob Base at the “Bomb-House” tent late on Saturday night. Sponsored by Shaggy 2 Dope from Insane Clown Posse, the tent was a little sparse on attendance, but the sound was good and the people there were totally into it. Slick Rick was a no-show, but Rob Base and Tone Loc were there, and they played what I thought was the best set of the festival. That being said, I’m not much of a Boondox fan, so take my opinion with a grain of salt.

At around four or five in the morning, Coolio got on the second stage and played the hits. We actually caught up with him earlier in the night at the same beer tent that we found the Juggalo Philosopher, and he was absolutely wasted. I could see the grey in his beard. But that didn’t change the fact that “Gangster’s Paradise” gripped this crowd with a startling jolt of ghetto reality. We decided to head home.

We came across this man while searching for our car, and he asked us if we needed any water, which I thought was really cool. We bullshitted for a while, and Kelly asked if she could get his picture. He was a very proper and polite guy, and he definitely had the best goddamn car on the lot.

We finally found our car at the end of a long row of tents, trash, and a security guard that tried to relate to us via “whoop whoop.” Inside the steaming rental, there was some water and a small cache of Twizzlers left, which I immediately ate. We briefly pondered the meaning of it all. It was too hot to think, but there was one central idea that stood out of this experience for me.

In an era where everyone likes everything, subculture has turned into a gigantic, indefinable wash. Punkers, rappers, ravers, witch-housers—they’re all listening to each other’s shit. Meanwhile, the clothes, the signifiers, the slang—it’s all been cross-co-opted to the point that none of it means anything. So what’s left? How do you rebel the old-fashioned way? Maybe if you’re from Kuttawa, Kentucky, it’s wearing evil clown masks and wagging around unmarked bags of pills. Maybe relishing in the ugliness is the only choice you’ve got.

With each passing day, it seems that the the global bass tent becomes just a bit more crowded. Baile funk. Cumbia. Champeta. Mambo de la Calle. Kuduro. Kwaito. Shangaan Electro. The genres keep coming, and one of the latest to perk up gringo ears is tribal guarachero, a sound native to Mexico, particularly Mexico City and Monterrey. Last week, the latter’s most prominent DJ/production crew, 3Ball MTY, made a splash with the first “official” tribal guarachero release, a free, self-titled five-song EP. Aided by a promotional assist from cumbia don and Mad Decent affiliate Toy Selectah, the EP found its way onto many of the web’s usual tastemaker outposts, XLR8R included, and undoubtedly prompted plenty of people to wonder exactly what this music was all about.

Despite some of the ‘hot new sound’ hype that permeated the coverage of the EP, tribal guarachero isn’t exactly new. The name is a reference to guaracha, another Latin rhythm with roots in Cuba, although calling tribal guarachero a sonic descendent of guaracha is a bit of a stretch. According to 3Ball crew member Erick Rincón, “Approximately five or six years ago, the genre began with a producer from Mexico City named Ricardo Reyna. He began mixing tribal house rhythms with Pre-Hispanic singing, flutes, and drums; from there came the name ‘Tribal Pre-Hispanic.'” While these Pre-Hispanic sounds and bits of other more traditional Latin genres—cumbia is often cited as a major influence—are still present in the music, over time the style has been increasingly infiltrated by house, techno, and electro, resulting in a present-day tribal guarachero that is explicitly electronic. More recently, the music has displayed an increasingly reliance on squealing, almost trance-like synth melodies that sound a lot more like a European mega-club than Mexico. Yet this doesn’t mean that tribal actually sounds quite like anything else; the music is marked by its distinctive triplet rhythm, which gives the music an unusual and deceptively slow, loping feel, even as the songs hum along over a 4/4 beat at 133 beats per minute. The formula is quite simple, the production is lo-fi, and even the best songs are rather repetitive; as such, there are plenty of lazy remixes and lackluster tribal guarachero tunes out there.

Some of these characteristics undoubtedly stem from the fact that the tribal guarachero scene isn’t exactly populated by electronic-music veterans. Although it may not have roots in urban slums, as many other en vogue global bass genres do, it is dominated by teenagers. Rincón just turned 17, and his 3Ball partners DJ Otto (a.k.a. 17-year-old Albert Presenda) and Sheeqo Beat (a.k.a. 18-year-old Sergio Zavala) are similarly young, as is much of their audience in Mexico. Prior to the 3Ball MTY EP, their tracks weren’t really made with official releases in mind. Says Zavala, “We usually upload our songs to a host called 4shared, which the majority of us here in Monterrey use… from those same links, the managers of the most well-known tianguis (open-air markets) download them and put them on sale.” YouTube and online social networks are littered with tribal, and Zavala adds with a laugh, “Here in Monterrey, you can hear [tribal guarachero] wherever. I hear people play our songs on their cell phones when I’m on the Metro.”

DJ Otto – “Diablo”

Erick Rincón – “Magdalena”

It’s all a bit rudimentary, but the 3Ball crew isn’t operating alone. Mexico City’s tribal scene, led by artists such as DJ Mouse, DJ Antena, DJ Alan Rosales, and DJ Manuel Palafox, is also popping, although its take on the music borrows less from house and techno and more from hardstyle. Oaxaca’s DJ Tetris is another frequently namechecked producer, and more names will surely be surfacing in the months ahead, as the genre is quickly gaining momentum in southern Mexico.

DJ Mouse – “Pompi Cadera”

It’s also found a small fanbase within the US, as producers such as Dubbel Dutch, LOL Boys, Nguzunguzu, and Ghosts on Tape have begun to experiment with the genre and frequently include tribal guarachero in their sets. Even Europe is getting into the act, with people like the UK’s L-Vis 1990 and France’s Canblaster fashioning tribal re-edits and spreading the sound overseas.

Rincón is certainly ready for his music to go legit. “For me, as a producer, I’d like it if my music wasn’t solely distributed [through pirating and the internet], because that way I’m not receiving anything for my work.” He continues, “I’d like it if record labels were more interested in releasing tribal music in digital stores, or on vinyl and CD. I hope to see some of those opportunities soon.” Apparently, he may be getting his wish, as London label Pollinate has signed up some of his tracks for proper release, and according to Toy Selectah, Diplo’s Mad Decent and Daniel Haaksman’s Man Recordings have also come calling for 3Ball remix work. While the track record for these kinds of global bass sounds isn’t exactly great when it comes to longevity, or, better said, when it comes to the longevity of Americans’ and Europeans’ interest in them, it’s possible that tribal guarachero just might have some legs.