Listening to and reviewing all 1997's Essential Mixes
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bosstrabs 02-23 Nick Rowan
Gave this a spin, partly as the tracklist looked baffling.
I thought the mix itself was as baffling as the tracklist suggested. All over the place with a lack of cohesion and a fair bit of guff. ‘Song to the Siren’ over ‘Offshore’ is a mess that does neither track justice. I thought my ears were playing tricks with me.
bosstrabs Enough screen time! Nick went back to the Essential Mix he was also supposed to be delivering to Tongy that week, rage coursing through his veins. He cued up banger after banger, an eclectic set with focused mixing:
I agree that it sounds like the mix of a man filled with rage, but more in a ’having a mental breakdown trying to complete a jigsaw and chucking the pieces across the room" kind of way. I think the relative quiet from Tong-y was less out of respect and more out of just wishing to stand back as Warren has his meltdown.
It’s still not a complete failure, a mix which peaks with ‘Hidden Sun of Venus’ would struggle to be, but 8.5 seems generous.
Mad_Cyril As part of X-Press 2 I think Amps
Hmmmm. Maybe @bosstrabs can clarify here, as I think he was resident just as himself.
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bosstrabs Hugo has just PMd me, volunteering to do April and May.
Mad_Cyril Imagine having to be bailed out by Hugo.
Lol. I’m definitely not doing all of those, but having looked at the list I was curious about the first one in April anyway, so I’ll do a one-off guest review. You’re still on the hook for the rest, and there are a couple from March you’ve not done yet either!…
06-04 Sven Väth
The year is 1985. A bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Sven Väth emerges from ballet school, and devises a plan with his dear friend Michael to find an excuse to prance about on TV. Desperate music industry executives in a culturally bereft and irrelevant divided Germany give the pair a record contract with little objection. ‘Off’ are born, and with little in the way of competition on the German airwaves, they garner some initial buzz. But then, disaster!
An appearance on German show ‘Discoring’, performing their latest single ‘Electrica Salsa’… Not even the ravenous mob of teenagers in the audience fed on a diet of David Hasselhoff and cheap amphetamines could deflect from the sudden realisation of what viewers were watching - the Emperor has no clothes! ‘Off’ were turned off - as the duo were swiftly dropped by their label.
Fast-forward a decade, their music dream in tatters, and the pair are making ends meet working at the local Volkswagen factory soldering electrical components. Working overtime late one evening, Sven starts fiddling with the radio playing on the factory floor. At some point, the receiver picks up the crackling signal of a pirate radio station wafting across from Berlin, on which a DJ is playing Juan Atkins and Basic Channel records.
“Ach, Mein Gott!” squeeled Sven. “Was ist diese moderately paced music, vich machs mein toes tvinkle, und mein Herz so desolate feel als ein nacht-time autobahn in vinter?! Michael, maybe ve can mach somezing similar mit diese Machinen hier. Du hast ein tape-recorder, ja?”
“Richtig. Was für eine tolle Idee! And this music has no lyrics, so we don’t have to hear your shitty voice again!”
So the pair got to work, staying behind every evening after all their colleagues had gone home.
“Michael, how is it venn ich diesen button push?” “Ohh, es macht ein Fizz!”
“Vass venn ich pull dis knob?” “Es ist wunderschön Sven!”
“Und venn I vack mein hammer on this shaft?” “Ja… Don’t stop Sven!”
“Dis work macht mich schvett. Ich muss weg mit mein top.” “Ah Sven, all dis hart labor hast du schwoll”.
And so, many months and dinners of cold bratwurst later, their cassette was finally complete.
“Sven, vass should ve mit diss do?”
Again, Sven turned to the radio. Fiddling with the knob once more, a voice called to him: “Welcome to another edition of the Essential Mix, with me Pete Tong”.
Sven chucked the cassette in to an envelope addressed to Pete Tong at the BBC, along with a slip signed ‘Sven Väth, Germany’.
On receiving the tape, Tong thought it was pretty good and worth playing. He wondered whether he should try and get a bit more information about the artist before doing so, but then figured that it wasn’t necessary. “You’re listening to Sven Vath, from Germany” he says over the mix. No more context is provided, or needed.
Meine Bewertung: “Siebzig von Neunundneunzig Luftballons.”
Grant’s rating: “Pots and pans. Foreign muck. 2/10.”
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Really I wrote the above review just so I could have an excuse to post this abomination again:
And here’s the tracklist, for anyone wondering:
Carl Craig - Alien Talk [SSR - 188]
Robert Hood - The Grey Area [M-Plant - 307-1]
Soylent Green - Low Pt. 1 [Playhouse - 10]
Michael Mayer - 1 [NTA - 13]
Unless & W-Moon - Swimming… [Metro Juice - 001]
Claude Young - Prance [Elypsia - 006]
Alter Ego - Folk Song [Harthouse America - 4032-1]
Acid Jesus - Interstate [Klang Elektronik - 14]
Alter Ego - Absolute Pt. Drei [Harthouse - 114]
Bandulu - Runnings Part 3 [Foundation Sound Works - 003]
Blackman - Trick [Black Nation - 220]
Adam Beyer - Tasty Bits EP (A1) [Drumcode - 05]
Move D - Mercury Minute [800trak - 8005 TRAK]
Unless & W-Moon - Absolutely Terror Field [Metro Juice - 001]
Heiko Laux - There Is No Return [UTurn - 08]
Planetary Assault Systems - Signal [Peacefrog - 063]
Eon - Phaze Test (30 Beat Cycle) [Electron Industries - 8]
Sikøra - Haus [Klang Elektronik - 11]
Acid Jesus - Hibernation Drive [Klang Elektronik - 14]
Flexitone - Nausicaä [Planet E - 65231]
Planet Jazz - Monster!!? [Harthouse - 1022-2]
Cold - Strobe Light Network (Sven Väth Blue Glass Remix) [Elektrolux]
Plus a link to the mix itself:
Amps Actually, I don’t remember him being resident at all. It’s just the beginning of that Essential Mix said it.
When I first went, pretty sure the flyer said Residents: Paul Oakenfold, Nick Warren, Paul Bleasdale, percussion by Mav. That will have been late ’97.
Then Steve Lawler took over from Warren, then Fontaine took over from Oakenfold, then Yousef took over from Lawler, that will have been around 2002 and at that point a lot of people I knew seemed to stop going.
Lawler knocking out the big bang tribal?
I would have been all over that.
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LT42 bro i read ur post, i read it slow, i read it twice, and every time i feel my genitals shrink in protest, like they say “we no reproduce in species like this”, cos what u write is not review, is not opinion, is confession — confession of man who never made girl sweat from waist down, only ever hold hands in club then go home play sasha mix in flannel pyjama, cos too scared to hear track with hips, track with stank, track with smell, track that know it’s nasty and like it, but no — u want cleansed atmosphere, like rave is crime scene, and u forensic scientist who remove bassline with rubber glove and say “don’t worry everyone, i disinfected the vibe”. u say Funky Green Dogs is “shite” — no bro, what shite is ur libido, ur pulse, ur weak arse pelvis movement that get offended when groove too black, too gay, too real, cos that murk boys sound, that miami filth, that darkroom rhythm, that stank house from swamps with grease still on it — it scare u, cos u never fuck with light off, never been ridden to filter sweep, u never made mistake on dancefloor that turn into marriage or police report.
and what this line — “monged casuals” — u think u special? u think u better? bro u describe ppl in heaven and u mad they didn’t invite u. u mad cos their face melt from bass and u still standing there like librarian with MDMA allergy waiting for sasha to do key change like it symphony not session.
they play Funky Green Dogs and kitchen become club.
they moan. they whine. they arch back.
u hear that and u change the tune??
this not taste. this war crime. this genocide of groove.
u not selector — u cultural narc.
and this “Horse Careful” tune — already sound like beige spreadsheet. u listen to that and feel safe, u feel clean, u feel middle class again, like world make sense, like London rent is justified cos kick is so tasteful — bro ur dick dry. ur heart dry. ur whole vibe like gluten-free puff pastry.
what u hate is not sound.
what u hate is that someone out there fuck harder than u ever will.
I can’t see LT coming back from this one.
Dave’s worst alias ever.
I’ve not seen the repeated use of text speak for a while on here
bosstrabs That’s one hell of a track listing. The Ryder in his pomp around this time period.
