Each time you speak to Phil Kieran, it feels like the first time you’ve spoken to Phil Kieran.

The Belfast man has been a (hyper)active presence for well over a decade – promoting esoteric club nights, managing a DJing portfolio that embraces mega-club and tiny venue alike, knocking out soundtracks, remixing for other artists, and – of course – producing music of remarkable variety and quality. With so much going on, you’d think some level of familiarity would have set in by now. But no, Phil’s natural inquisitiveness – his creative twitchiness – means that trying to second guess the man is a thankless task. His latest project, Le Carousel, is a case in point.
If one imagined that, after all this time, he would have stumbled on a tried and tested game-plan, its brilliantly hypnotic brew of subtly psychedelic techno and punk-infused dynamics would come as a shock; it’s like nothing else he’s ever produced.
“One time another DJ/producer said to me: ‘You always struck me as somebody that was lost, like you didn’t really know what music you wanted to make’,” Phil reveals. “I thought to myself after: it’s not me that’s lost. People that make the same shit all their lives, or just repeat the same idea 100 times; I would say that’s being lost. People that feel they have to make music within one genre and then stick to it, like they joined the music paramilitaries and couldn’t change their view point on music. I’ve always felt like I’ve been searching for the right thing and just trying to be honest. I’ve made some mistakes on the way but I finally think I’m getting there. It’s just taken 20 years to work it out.”
If Phil is a free-thinker, a run through the cast-list of cameos that appear on Le Carousel’s self-titled debut album reads like a roll-call of similarly open-minded figures. For example – Roisin Stewart and Charlie Mooney of Desert Hearts are there, as are Robyn G. Shiels, Gary Irwin and Danny Todd from Cashier No. 9. And then there’s David Holmes and Andrew Weatherall – both of whom provided remixes for the storming first EP. Safe to say, any endeavour that attracts artists of this calibre must originate from a true and sincere source.
“It’s a very clear snapshot of a period in my life that can only really be described as a bit shit,” Phil grimaces. “I don’t want to go into it too much, but I was not having a good time. I felt like I had to stop fucking around with making music for other people, or something that would work on a particular sound system in a particular night club. It was time to just make a record that reflected my personality and who I truly am. There was this huge feeling of time running out and life passing me by. It was time to stop pissing around and write a decent record. I put every drop of passion and feeling I have into this. The whole experience was hugely liberating.”