I mentioned this mix in an earlier post, and at the time thought it had never been released. Imagine my joy to find it at last on the 2004 compilation Anthems. It seems it was hiding all the time, masquerading as “Liewerk: The Kraftbach mix”. That’s cute, and I suppose if you look at it squinty-eyed it does seem a bit Kraftwerk-ish. I must say I find that just a tad disrespectful though, because this is very much a Daniel Miller mix, and arguably he is an even more pure electronic musician than the formerly flute-tootling Düsseldorfers.
I’m glad it was finally issued though. It was a landmark mix for me and I think it still sounds good.
Here’s my audio and visual reinterpretation of Erasure’s “why can’t we all just get along” opus. For this clip I have mangled the song’s original rather excellent video, with hopes that my liberties will be excused by those involved.
The remix was done almost exactly 30 years ago at the dawn of 1987, around the same time as Daniel Miller’s legendary lost Laibach mix, which would account for the presence of his EMS Vocoder 2000 in the studio.
The edit of this mix is unusual in that there is no edit at all for the first couple of minutes. Having looped a few bars of backing vocal over the rhythm section I enjoyed the resulting chord inversions so much I just let it run, even though the results were a tad dissonant for an Erasure track. In fact I got a phone call from Flood after delivering the mix, to warn me that this one “might not fly”, as he could imagine Vince Clarke gagging somewhat on the jazzy chord shapes. But it did fly, Vince didn’t gag…and here it is, pop pickers!
I’m back, mission accomplished: Arnold Turboust’s new album is in the can, and I can honestly say it’s one of the best things I’ve ever worked on.
I flew out of Charles De Gaulle airport on November 12th, happy and satisfied. As we all know, 24 hours later a horrible atrocity was committed in Paris.
This one hits home particularly hard, partly because of my personal love for France and my friends there, and not least because many who lost their lives were enjoying a performance by a local Southern California band.
I have quite a few readers in France; if any of your family or friends were caught up in this tragedy, please accept my deepest condolences.
I’m posting this song again as a tribute to all those affected by this terrible event.
An earlier Rhythm King session from the end of ’87, this featured the late great Matthew Ashman of Bow Wow Wow on guitar*. An interesting mashup of influences, perhaps not altogether successful but I think you’ll agree that an entertaining video came out of it. And who can forget the immortal couplet :
It is the sound of the inner city…it ain’t The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.
*The linked Bow Wow Wow clip is, in my opinion, the best music video of all time.
This is from the end of ’87, one of the last sessions I did at the Guerilla Studio in Maida Vale. The band mainly seemed to comprise a Canadian chap named Roy, and was signed to Product Inc, the Mute subsidiary that also released the Swans output.
It isn’t a great song, probably not his best song, but listen to the way the overdriven guitar comes in. I was certainly to recall it a couple of years later when the new sound started to come out of Seattle.
A nice surprise: the lads called me up out of the blue, flew me to Belgium, got me ratarsed on that lethal cloudy brew they have over there, then threw me in the studio to record them for a couple of days. Flew Me and Threw Me…sounds like a Robin Thicke song. Somebody get Pharrell on the phone. Lawyers on standby.
I would say this is an unusual album on the “industrial” scale of things; not as overtly political as their previous output, it delves more into the politics of personal life, the power of tradition, the power of the feminine, the incontrovertible power of bagpipes. I like it a lot.
The song Current Affairs features your loyal servant banging away on the studio grand, while the crew man the drums in laid back mode. Somewhere somebody is watching Panorama…or is it Un Homme Et Une Femme…
Mute Records launched a new subsidiary called Rhythm King, a label that was to make a lot of noise over the next couple of years. Their message was loud and clear: DJs are making hit records now and they’re here to stay. As a longtime Jeremy Healy collaborator I was of course down with that.
The first signing was this trio of post punk refugees, three of the funniest and most talented characters I ever worked with: Gary Asquith, Danny Briottet and Carl Bonnie. Their song Cocaine Sex really blew the cobwebs out when I first heard it and I couldn’t wait to work on it. It had already been masterfully recorded by Paul Kendall but a bass sound courtesy of the Roland Juno 106 pulled things into focus.