Movement 2007 Day 2 Sunday
Read the review from www.residentadvivor.net's review of Detroit's Movement 2007, which includes a blurb about my performance that year.
The full article is available at:
http://www.residentadvisor.net/feature.aspx?828
photo courtesy of Vanessa Miller
http://www.residentadvisor.net/feature.aspx?828
photo courtesy of Vanessa MillerExcerpt from ResidentAdvisor.Net’s review of Movement: 2007 Day 2 Sunday
written by: Steve Mizek
written by: Steve Mizek
Day Two – Sunday (Photo Gallery)
Sunday afternoon greeted us with a torrential downpour and strong winds which soaked pants and shoes within minutes. The Real Detroit stage, dotted with large puddles accumulated from early morning storms, was forced to stop Ryan Crosson’s set in the first few minutes as the PA was sitting in an inch or two of water. As luck would have it, though, the rain suddenly dissipated and the disappointed were free to roam. After event planners scrambled to wring out the PA, Crosson was able to pound his smaller but sizable audience with pock-marked melodic techno. Hunger bested any desire to see Lee Curtiss, so I wandered to the few food stands available, mostly made up of local Detroit eateries. Unfortunately you couldn’t just buy food, you had to exchange cash for tickets at an uneven exchange rate (nine tickets for every ten dollars); I would end up spending more money on tickets than on anything else. Munching on falafel, I watched milieu on the main stage from afar. It was nice to hear some Basic Channel sides aired even if to a tiny crowd, though he would soon switch to more modern material including the ever-durable ‘Rej’, as well as Donnacha Costello’s ‘6.6’.
Sunday afternoon greeted us with a torrential downpour and strong winds which soaked pants and shoes within minutes. The Real Detroit stage, dotted with large puddles accumulated from early morning storms, was forced to stop Ryan Crosson’s set in the first few minutes as the PA was sitting in an inch or two of water. As luck would have it, though, the rain suddenly dissipated and the disappointed were free to roam. After event planners scrambled to wring out the PA, Crosson was able to pound his smaller but sizable audience with pock-marked melodic techno. Hunger bested any desire to see Lee Curtiss, so I wandered to the few food stands available, mostly made up of local Detroit eateries. Unfortunately you couldn’t just buy food, you had to exchange cash for tickets at an uneven exchange rate (nine tickets for every ten dollars); I would end up spending more money on tickets than on anything else. Munching on falafel, I watched milieu on the main stage from afar. It was nice to hear some Basic Channel sides aired even if to a tiny crowd, though he would soon switch to more modern material including the ever-durable ‘Rej’, as well as Donnacha Costello’s ‘6.6’.
Matthew Dear chats to RA
How many times have you played DEMF?
Twice? This will be my third time I think. But we always do something around the festival, but I’ve only been a part of it twice.
What is your set like when you play with someone else?
Me and Ryan, we’re really keen on each other’s styles and we’ve played together for almost six years. It’s more fun than anything, and we just love to have a good time. Honestly, I’m a lot better when I play with somebody else. I need that extra record of time. And it’s fun, because I get to sit back, listen and enjoy the set and I don’t feel as rushed. When it’s just me, it’s more working; and that’s cool, but it’s nice to just enjoy the party as well.
When you play with someone else, does that expand the scope of what you play?
I think it gives you a bit more freedom – a bit more variety. Ryan plays a bit more straightforward, he plays the deeper, harder stuff; and I like to play more experimental, trippy groovy stuff. So when we play together it’s a cool mix because he’s playing more edgy and I can get deeper and weirder – it’s a good balance.
How many times have you played DEMF?
Twice? This will be my third time I think. But we always do something around the festival, but I’ve only been a part of it twice.
What is your set like when you play with someone else?
Me and Ryan, we’re really keen on each other’s styles and we’ve played together for almost six years. It’s more fun than anything, and we just love to have a good time. Honestly, I’m a lot better when I play with somebody else. I need that extra record of time. And it’s fun, because I get to sit back, listen and enjoy the set and I don’t feel as rushed. When it’s just me, it’s more working; and that’s cool, but it’s nice to just enjoy the party as well.
When you play with someone else, does that expand the scope of what you play?
I think it gives you a bit more freedom – a bit more variety. Ryan plays a bit more straightforward, he plays the deeper, harder stuff; and I like to play more experimental, trippy groovy stuff. So when we play together it’s a cool mix because he’s playing more edgy and I can get deeper and weirder – it’s a good balance.
Ryan Elliot and Matthew Dear (as Audion, again) refilled the Real Detroit tent with an enjoyable tag team set. While one poked around on M.D.’s laptop for tunes, the other would mix and EQ. It was amusing to watch the pair react to each other’s choices and do their best to keep the mix going – here favoring darker, wonky house and techno. Once again I found myself conflicted schedule-wise as Chicago producer/DJ Kate Simko was performing at the same time, so I split to catch half her set. Except for occasionally flashing a grin, Simko intently stared down her laptop and stirred up the crowd with a low-end heavy contingent of stark techno. Now the Plaza was reaching attendance levels similar to the previous day, not least because of the beautiful sunshine which swept the sky clean of clouds. It was also worth noting that there were a decent number of younger and significantly older attendees, most likely locals, offering hope that techno was still accessible to more than just the club set. Keeping with the apparent female theme, Heidi jumped on the decks after the roaring applause for Simko died down and offered Johnny Dangerous’ ‘Beat That Bitch’. Claude VonStroke was front and center snapping pictures of Heidi and offering Dirty Bird releases for her bag. Even though her next choices – a Steve Bug tune and Martin Lansky’s ‘Let Me Dance’ – were compelling, an interview with Simko brought me back to the Real Detroit stage were Matthew Dear and Ryan Elliott were still holding court while Kenny Larkin set up. A girl next to me said they’d just finished up a mini-set of Chicago house.
Later at the Pyramid was Baby Ford, minus Zip, who chose to stay home for family reasons. I was quite keen on Ford’s set, which was a touch more light-hearted and chipper than I had expected and included Matthew Dear’s ‘Dog Days’ and piano-laden house tracks. I then briefly snuck over to hear some of Misstress Barbara’s set, which at times had an “I Love Techno 2007 (The First Six Months)” feel to it. Dear proved popular with her as well; she dropped ‘I Gave You Away’, before closing with her undisputed smash, ‘Barcelona’. Moments after the crowd struck up a “Bad Boy Bill” chant, which prompted me to evacuate and claim a spot on the Pyramid for Gui Boratto. Armed with only a laptop and MIDI controller (from the look of things), Boratto delivered a flawless if unsurprising set to the thoroughly excited and voluptuous crowd crammed into the plaza. ‘Beautiful Life’ proved to be the perfect warm weather anthem many guessed it would be during the winter months (I’ll be damned if it’s not used in at least two commercials by year’s end) while Kompakt’s favorite number cruncher and co-owner Michael Mayer continued the label lovefest on the turntables, opening with Prins Thomas’ remix of Lee Jones’ ‘There Comes A Time’. Wearing a Mr. Happy T-shirt, Mayer fittingly bounced along enthusiastically to his selections, including Simon Baker’s rated single, ‘Plastik’. A large yacht passed alongside the plaza; its passengers marveling at all the people stricken with uncontrollable dance fever.
Thanks to another scheduling snafu (especially common on Sunday), Hardfloor were still erupting over-the-top rave bombs well after Monolake was slated to start. No problem for the audience, many of whom had long since cracked their glowsticks for the day. Several thunderous drumrolls later, Monolake’s table mounded with gear was shifted onstage and Robert Henke alone got cracking. Iceburgs of melody slowly floated from the speaker racks, only to be chopped up by clanking metal drums. It was somewhat odd to see barely-clad women gyrating to such austere music, but it showed the audience was more interested in a solid beat than its sonic accoutrements. With Model 500 still being assembled in the background, Henke and his Elmo shirt (!) kept cranking out the beats. But boy, when the four hooded members of Model 500 finally did take the stage, the crowd erupted with an intensity not before seen during the fest. Juan Atkins stood in the middle and addressed the crowd through a harsh, booming voicebox. Over twenty years on, Model 500’s tracks still had a great deal of immediacy to them, a testament to Atkins’ songwriting in spite of primitive technology. A slew of uniformly dressed dancers, later branded the X-Men, got down with old school breakdance moves during a couple tunes. Because of all the schedule-shuffling Model 500 only played for under an hour, but by the time they closed with the legendary ‘Clear’, the full house was still full and boogying through the exhaustion.
Later at the Pyramid was Baby Ford, minus Zip, who chose to stay home for family reasons. I was quite keen on Ford’s set, which was a touch more light-hearted and chipper than I had expected and included Matthew Dear’s ‘Dog Days’ and piano-laden house tracks. I then briefly snuck over to hear some of Misstress Barbara’s set, which at times had an “I Love Techno 2007 (The First Six Months)” feel to it. Dear proved popular with her as well; she dropped ‘I Gave You Away’, before closing with her undisputed smash, ‘Barcelona’. Moments after the crowd struck up a “Bad Boy Bill” chant, which prompted me to evacuate and claim a spot on the Pyramid for Gui Boratto. Armed with only a laptop and MIDI controller (from the look of things), Boratto delivered a flawless if unsurprising set to the thoroughly excited and voluptuous crowd crammed into the plaza. ‘Beautiful Life’ proved to be the perfect warm weather anthem many guessed it would be during the winter months (I’ll be damned if it’s not used in at least two commercials by year’s end) while Kompakt’s favorite number cruncher and co-owner Michael Mayer continued the label lovefest on the turntables, opening with Prins Thomas’ remix of Lee Jones’ ‘There Comes A Time’. Wearing a Mr. Happy T-shirt, Mayer fittingly bounced along enthusiastically to his selections, including Simon Baker’s rated single, ‘Plastik’. A large yacht passed alongside the plaza; its passengers marveling at all the people stricken with uncontrollable dance fever.
Thanks to another scheduling snafu (especially common on Sunday), Hardfloor were still erupting over-the-top rave bombs well after Monolake was slated to start. No problem for the audience, many of whom had long since cracked their glowsticks for the day. Several thunderous drumrolls later, Monolake’s table mounded with gear was shifted onstage and Robert Henke alone got cracking. Iceburgs of melody slowly floated from the speaker racks, only to be chopped up by clanking metal drums. It was somewhat odd to see barely-clad women gyrating to such austere music, but it showed the audience was more interested in a solid beat than its sonic accoutrements. With Model 500 still being assembled in the background, Henke and his Elmo shirt (!) kept cranking out the beats. But boy, when the four hooded members of Model 500 finally did take the stage, the crowd erupted with an intensity not before seen during the fest. Juan Atkins stood in the middle and addressed the crowd through a harsh, booming voicebox. Over twenty years on, Model 500’s tracks still had a great deal of immediacy to them, a testament to Atkins’ songwriting in spite of primitive technology. A slew of uniformly dressed dancers, later branded the X-Men, got down with old school breakdance moves during a couple tunes. Because of all the schedule-shuffling Model 500 only played for under an hour, but by the time they closed with the legendary ‘Clear’, the full house was still full and boogying through the exhaustion.
Heidi and friends grew moustaches especially for the Minus afterparty. Photo: Stephen Boyle
Minus Afterparty (Photo Gallery)
Minus’s minimal aesthetic seems to take over any space it inhabits; as was the case with the Museum of Contemporary Art of Detroit, which was stripped of all its art and plunged into darkness. From what I could tell the space was a repurposed warehouse with a huge main room lit only by a few red laser beams and visuals projected above the informal DJ booth. Footage of a carwash and then magnetically-manipulated iron grains offered a surreal touch to the booming minimal assault coming from all angles; it was quite a place to be off one’s face. Moments after I found a suitable spot the screen announced JPLS was handing over the turntables to labelhead, Richie Hawtin, much to the delight of the quaking masses. RA’s photographer, Stephen Boyles (who was like an second set of eyes throughout the DEMF), pointed out the discreetly located VIP room, which turned out to be right behind the DJ booth. As Magda, Heidi and a few others horsed around with electrical tape moustaches, Hawtin continued his relentless campaign unaware.
Juan Atkins Afterparty
Just when I thought it might be time for some rest, Stephen offered the chance to check out Juan Atkins’ loft party five or six blocks away. In a neighborhood equal parts historic brick houses, rundown board ups and freshly built developments, Atkin’s loft was easily overlooked, except for the short parade of cars scrambling for parking. Wooden floors and brick walls greet me inside, along with about 35 to 40 other people dancing casually to jacking house blasting from the modest but powerful PA. Buzz Goree and A Guy Called Gerald reigned over the turntables, turning out first wave monsters like Detroit Grand Pubahs’ ‘Sandwiches’, Atkins and Baby Ford looking on from the sidelines. In spite of the inviting house party vibe, my legs were about to give out so I had to miss Atkins spinning at 5 a.m. I felt lucky just to be there at all.
courtesy of www.residentadvisor.net
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