The UK underground dance music zeitgeist is soundtracked by the post-dubstep techno sound of London. It is bass-heavy, beautifully produced and often mind bending music, constructed from killer breaks and abstract sounds. Labels such as The Trilogy Tapes and Whities are leading this movement. Both are immaculately presented, placing art and fashion on level with their fresh-sounding music. And both have released records by Angus Finlayson aka Minor Science. The Berlin based Brit, who earns his keep as a writer for Resident Advisor, had his first release on TTT with the Noble Gas EP, and then two more on Whities more recently – all of which have had an explosive effect wherever they are let loose. It is no surprise that he has been snapped up by our friends Broken Mechanics to play at Wire next week.
We spoke to Angus about life as a journalist-promoter on the crest of the bassy-techno wave ahead of the event.
What is it like to be operating on the Whities label? It seems to me that you are a group of artists charting new territory – would you agree?
It’s a pleasure to work with Nic Tasker, though I’m not sure it’s innovation that guides the label so much as personality. Each Whities artist has a very distinctive character, and Nic goes to great lengths to bring out that character. A good recent example is the new Reckonwrong single. Alex is a friend — we lived together in Amsterdam for a while — and it’s been great to see his music develop into something so unexpected and unique. I don’t think he could’ve done that so effectively on another label.
What aspects from your early love of dubstep do you retain in your productions?
In “Naturally Spineless” the influence is pretty clear — I suppose I was semi-consciously channelling that ’06-’08 period, which was very formative for me. In other tracks dubstep might not be audible at all, but I do think it’s there somehow. One aspect of this would be subbass. When I was getting into production, mostly through my older brother and his friends, dubstep was the thing we were all into, and it went without saying that you needed a subwoofer in order to make those basslines. (People with better technical know-how than me will dispute this, but that was our belief at the time). I got one fairly early on, and most of my tracks feature low frequencies which some club soundsystems can’t produce. This is self-defeating in some respects, but it’s worth it for the ‘easter egg’ effect, when you hear the track in the right space and it suddenly takes on a whole new dimension.
How important is it to be working at RA, and how does it inform your musical output?
It’s very important in that it pays my rent! Having a job which is fun, interesting, and accommodating to my disrupted routine — but that also gives me a stable income — really helps me to be creative when I sit down in front of Ableton. And of course, it’s a privilege to have a job which basically involves listening to interesting music all day. But it does have a sly counterintuitive effect on my music-making, in that writing scratches much the same creative itch as making a track, which means that I don’t necessarily feel all that motivated by the time I get into the studio. I think the desire for change can be a spur to creativity — as a teenager, for instance, I put huge amounts of thought and energy into the music stuff I was doing, because it represented a possible escape from what I saw as a dissatisfying life situation. Life has now dealt me a pretty good hand, so the incentive to make bangers isn’t as strong. You’ll notice I’ve only managed one record per year so far…
Did you always want to go into club writing? Why is it important to take a critical, even academic, look at nightlife? And how does this marry with the hedonistic lifestyle that often drives the scene?
Quite the opposite actually. I started writing (for small blogs) when I was 18, and during my student years I repeatedly decided to sack it off, since it wasn’t what I really wanted to do (which was make music). But each time I got sucked back in. When I finished university it was my best shot at making a living in something music-related, so my decision to pursue it was basically pragmatic. But of course I do enjoy it, and I care about doing it well. Why is it important that somebody writes dance music criticism? Why is it important to be critical about any sort of art or cultural pursuit? I guess because it can deepen and enrich the experience of it. That value is obvious to the people who enjoy reading criticism, just as the value of repetitive dance music is obvious to people who enjoy getting their heads cleaned by a kickdrum at 5am. In both cases, there are people on the outside of that experience whom no amount of argument will win round. Which is fine.
I think ‘hedonism’ versus ‘intellect’ is a false dichotomy, left over from our religious past here in Europe. (There’s a quote that stayed with me from Ned Sublette’s book about Cuban Music, which I can’t find but will paraphrase: “the next time you joke that white people can’t dance, consider that dancing was effectively banned by the church in Europe for hundreds of years”). When you take away the prudish religious-moral objection to getting blitzed on substances and listening to loud music, it’s hard to argue that that experience can’t also be somehow ‘intellectual’. If anything, the hedonism it a big part of what makes dance music worth writing about.
In a previous interview, you said you were drawn to electronic music because you could have complete control over what you were doing. Is there any point in music, while performing, producing, or DJing, that you lose control? And is that a bad thing?
DJing and producing are very different processes. I suppose as a DJ you’re surfing a wave of control. It’s important that you stay on the board, but the risk that you might fall off is part of the entertainment. Production does involve accidents — as the cliche goes, they can lead to the best ideas — but it doesn’t carry that risk factor. Ultimately you have a veto on what gets released into the world. Of course, producers try to inject ‘liveness’ into their recordings by means of one-take straight-2-tape jams etc. — but those spontaneous recordings can always be tweaked or discarded before release. To be honest, I think producers have an obligation to exercise their veto, and squeamishness about using it is one of the sins of modern production. I guess this is one respect in which my day job might have influenced my music-making. I have a fairly good sense of the unbelievably vast amount of music being made right now. Why add to the noise unless the track you’ve made is the absolute best you can do?
How do other artists see you, being a “journo”? Does it affect your relationship with the club community?
Yes, it causes problems sometimes. I can understand why a musician might take it personally when I trash their record one week and have the temerity to release one of my own the next. If they think my music is shit, the injustice is doubly outrageous. Conflicts I’ve got into — and I try my best to avoid them — tend to involve musicians who feel somehow wronged by the press and are looking for a way to get even. By putting my own music out there, I’m perhaps more vulnerable to attacks than other journalists. That’s OK, I can take it.
What inspired your latest release on Whities? What on earth is a Durian?
A Durian is fruit mostly found in Southeast Asia. It tastes delicious but smells absolutely disgusting, or so I’ve read (I’ve never tried one). To my mind at least, there are connections between the durian on the cover of the Whities record, the track titles, and the alternating sweetness and rancidness of the music. There’s a logic that dictates those connections, but I think it’s more interesting if it’s not explained. A thematically consistent record gives the listener something to sink their teeth into, but the more heavy-handed the message gets, the less room there is for interpretation.
Have you played in Leeds before?
No, and I’m looking forward to it!
Minor Science plays for Broken Mechanics on 15th November 2016 at Wire. See the event page here.
Oliver Walkden