When the dust
settles then it’s time to take stock. Unfortunately the conclusions drawn
aren’t always the most pleasant. What bothers me more than anything at the
moment is what an increasingly unpleasant and petty environment I’m living in.
The UK can currently go and fuck itself. From returning from holiday and
encountering the warm welcome of stoney-faced immigration, to the constant
emphasis on repression and the dehumanization of those unlucky not to have been
born into relative security. Then you’re unlucky not to be thinking we live in
some post-ironic Dickensian parallel world when you hear of the deaths of those
“passed fit to work”. To top it all off, I’ve just seen an ad promoting having
an online shares portfolio from Atletico De Madrid’s shirt sponsors. What a
load of cunts.
So where does
that leave me? Why seeking refuge in escapism of course, namely the faculties
of cycling, food and music, specifically electronic and even more specifically
self-evolving, off-the-cuff relaxed turntablism. The type that needs little
planning but is allowed to spontaneously develop at its own pace. Sounds like I
can’t be arsed, but nothing could be further from the truth. However, to say
that I’m still finding my way as a DJ after spinning for twenty years wouldn’t
be an exaggeration.
You see, I’m not
one of those who regards their first gig as playing a bunch of post-punk
singles and some reggae to their mates in their bedroom. I could add years of
experience if I so wished and in doing so publicly announce myself as a great,
under-the-radar musicologist. Nope, I didn’t properly start playing until I
bought my current set up, only upgraded as far as cartridges and the addition
of some cheap CDJ200s are concerned, in Kentish Town while over on a visit in
1995. I dragged them over to Paris and got busy.
I don't think I
produced a set I was happy with for nearly two years, and by happy I mean a
complete C90 cassette flawlessly mixed and sequenced throughout. I was one of
the idiotic number who initially thought anything would go with anything, (see
“That’s How It Is” era James Lavelle), and took far too long to realize that
this wasn’t the case. There are always certain records that, no matter how
great they are, have no business as part of a sequentially beat-matched
selection. This then puts one under pressure to shoe horn them in somehow, or
just abandon all hope of their participation in the hope that the holistic
approach will prevail. It nearly always does in my experience. Whatever may be
sacrificed for the greater good is almost always forgotten about when the ends
justify the means.
Having said that
I’ve never done things the easy way while seeking out balance according to the
tracks I use. It’s the old adage regarding the distinction between planned sets
made at home and the spontaneity of a gig. I must open and close with tunes of
a similar tempo. There must be some sort of sonic fulcrum around the mid point
and, either side of that, a similar quantity of peaks and troughs/darkness and
light. My turntablism repertoire is limited, but spinbacks, filtering , manic
cross-fading and sundry other embellishments also come imbued with the stress
of symmetry.
And the tracks.
Always start at zero and work the tempo up from it. If the first track is given
four minutes, the final one must have the same. Something down tempo or ambient
to start, never anything more than a relatively relaxed piece of house, but not
with vocals. The groove shall have been got by around the twenty minute mark and
from then it’s onwards and upwards, until the midpoint which represents a
bridge back to the finish, with compositions that correspond on either side.
This is the peak of peaks, but not the only peak. Viewed as a graph this would look
like a line which fluctuates constantly, but uniformly.
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