Back to the Bass
Techno stalwart Plastikman shakes things up with fresh tricks, personality, and - gasp! - vocals
Detroit seems so far away - a distant, subliminal memory that makes many new fans of e-music scratch their heads: Techno is from where? Yes, the city that bred Motown and Eminem also spawned one of post-rock's most vibrant and forward-thinking genres, but it's been under the radar for so long, many believe the current electronic dance music craze has roots in Europe. British-born second-wave techno-maker Richie Hawtin, a.k.a. Plastikman, is from neighboring Windsor, Ontario, Canada, but certainly made his mark in the Motor City scene. Now he's bringing the genre back to the critical fore in North America with his first artist album in five years, Closer, released last week.
The 33-year-old saw early underground success with 1993's Sheet One, which alarmed authorities with its limited-edition LSD-tab-style cover, and 1994's Musik, which woke up critics with its mach-one bass and minimal boom-box funk. His Plus 8 label has been a godsend for global techno fans, but the word "breakthrough" never came to mind with Hawtin. Until now.
Closer recalls the Plastikman of yore, with minimal, bass-heavy music that's deeply intimate, primal, and physical. At the same time, it raises the bar with laptop-style nano-blips, muted micro music, and an outpouring of personality and emotion rarely heard in recent techno (too often noted for its nosebleed aggression). Hawtin says his earlier work was about sticking your head in a warehouse-party bass-bin speaker and getting lost in the music. This one, he says, is about getting lost inside his own head.
"For this album, the concept was to feel and sound like you're trapped inside the head of Richie Hawtin for 70 minutes," he says. "I knew it couldn't just be an album filled with sounds and strings and drum hits. I walk around, and I talk to myself."
Indeed, in what could be a controversial move with the sometimes dogmatic techno community, Hawtin actually adds vocals to his sound, albeit spoken-word messages. "I hear everything," says his ominous processed voice on "Mind Encode." "Those aren't voices in your head. They're just the echoes of your indecision."
The album was recorded in his Windsor home studio beneath a former firehouse following a tumultuous year Hawtin spent in New York City. "I moved to New York for a bunch of different reasons," he says. "I was ending a long-term relationship. I felt that I needed to get away. New York seemed the best place to go to answer some questions I had. I had to get away from being a big fish in a small town and learn a bit more about myself."
Often the tracks feature off-kilter percussive elements that loop, nonetheless, in-time. And always, the bass is tectonic, despite the minimal, almost clandestine layering of sounds. ("We suggest wherever possible the listener should accentuate the bass further for an improved listening experience," notes a statement on the back of the disc.)
"I think there's a certain part of our body that responds to bass," Hawtin says. "You get a warm, cozy feeling from the lower frequencies. It surrounds you and encompasses you more than the high-end frequencies. There's not a lot of high end in my album, so I want people to put a good pair of headphones on and get wrapped up in this sound and lose themselves."
Hawtin gets lost in his own array of sound when he performs live, often pushing the technology of what can be done on stage. He's been an early adopter of Final Scratch hardware, which allows DJs to spin MP3 files on a laptop via vinyl simulators. He's always tried to integrate different elements onstage, most notably heard on his Decks EFX & 909, a groundbreaking, live-style mix-CD incorporating traditional turntables, an effects processor, and a legendary Roland TR-909 drum machine.
"I can still get turned on by hearing someone on two turntables, but more often than not it's quite uninspiring," Hawtin says. "I see myself less and less as a regular DJ and more as a performer. I'm using my material and other people's material, and I'm filtering it through a number of machines. I'm not so tied to turntables."
These days, he's not so tied to Windsor, either, preferring to spend much of his time at a second residence in techno mecca Berlin. "I don't know if I'll ever live in North America again," he says. "People don't understand why kids want to stay out late and listen to music with no vocals. It's not a place conducive to this music growing."Published: 10/29/2003
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