The greatest thing about Jeff Mills is the variety of reactions to his work provokes: adoring anoraks squabble over his most obscure Purposemaker release, the ill-informed techno detractors moan that it all bloody well sounds the same, right through to the other end of the spectrum where his music is analysed and deconstructed, in a laudatory manner, by high-brow navel-gazers.
Mills' reluctance to talk to the press, his prolific yet mysterious approach to issuing his experiments and the often brutally linear route these only serve to fuel the flames of fascination among admirers and cynics alike. In the record or club review pages of dedicated dance magazines, the phrase 'Millsian' has become an obligatory, and, more often than not, overused catch-all term for raw, minimal techno; while, in a more light-hearted vein, a request in a club for a few "Jeff Mills" usually isn't directed at the DJ.
Unwittingly, Mills has become the ultimate dance iconoclast: resolutely underground, yet familiar and recognisable, the creator of forward-thinking sounds in an area of electronic music that supposedly stopped progressing years ago, renowned for his apocalyptic, synapse-snapping three-deck DJ sets, wherein his frail form is blurred by a flurry of activity, the emanating raw sound collage in sheer contrast to his serene, understated demeanour. Maybe it's a sign of the times that he has released a compilation of hard-to-find Purposemaker gems and previously unreleased tracks, as well as being in the middle of his first ever photographic exhibition in London's Global Cafe, and that he's participating in the interview round to talk about both projects.
Certainly, when I talked to him exactly two years ago for Digital Beat, he was a very uneasy and unwilling interviewee, answering my questions with vague, one word replies and giving me the impression that there were a million other things he'd rather be doing.
In the interim period, Mills must have had a change of worldview, for today he's friendly, light-hearted and relaxed, and, judging on the avenue of expression he has chosen to explore has widened his artistic remit. Having only seen a few samples from the show, it appears that he is trying to visually recreate and represent the energy that his music and in particular his visceral DJing stints are fuelled by.
"It's my first ever exhibition," explains Jeff, displaying the kind of enthusiasm normally associated with an art student talking about their degree show. "It took me about a year and a half to create it and put it together, but I had the idea quite a while ago. Unfortunately, there was a lack of time to organise it, so it all stayed in a box in Detroit for about a year, and then I started using London as a base. The concept of the exhibition revolves around the various parts of the anatomy used to create music: the fingers, arms and ears.
"I think what I was trying to express was the notion that there are parallels to be drawn between visual art and music: I used these images in the context of an exhibition to provoke the same interest and reaction I tend to get from the music I make. I've always thought that we never see enough of what we hear: the more we do, the better off we all are. The development of my interest in photography is in line with the music I make: it's indirect."
While we will probably have to wait for a while before Carl Cox turns into a fully fledged Dadaist or before Pete Tong admits there's always been an impressionist element to his largin' it antics, in many ways, Mills' interest in visual art is a development that complements his musical work, especially in terms of the technique he applies to both disciplines.
"With my music or photography, I try as much as possible to make each concept as different as the next," he says. "I always imagine myself starting from a clean slate, and allow sufficient time in between compositions. The process runs at a steady pace, but the distance between creation and the release of the work is uncertain. I usually don't know when I'm going to release a particular piece of music so there is no schedule and time becomes screwed up. Anyway, when I make music time isn't important, it's of no essence, and even the length of the piece becomes irrelevant. The true test of great music is if you can purposely make something that is timeless. The ability to do that is an exceptional gift."
Although the majority of Mills' music - from his early days as part of the Underground Resistance sonic assault squad, through the white heat meltdown and pure experimenta of the Waveform Transmission era, and into the next millennium with the grainy, minimal funk blueprint of the Axis and Purposemaker series - are unique contributions to music's morphing map, surely adherence to the 4/4 format will, at some stage, call into question Mills' relevance.
"That's the hard part," comes his amused response. "Staying within the 4/4 format and staying different and keeping it simple, that's more difficult than exceeding it and trying to be different. I find it more challenging to stay within a structure because the music itself has to sound unique to be relevant. It's reverse psychology: after you make ten compositions with a 4/4 kick, what do you do to make the eleventh one sound unique? Bear in mind, too, that the music has to be digestible and dancefloor-friendly. The 4/4 is the easiest beat, the one that the cavemen created - it transcends cultures and countries. It's a wonderful structure!"
Although meticulous in his analysis and understanding of his chosen format, the unfortunate downside is that, while some of the greatest dance music producers and DJs have been inspired by his productions and DJing. Jeff Mills has also left a thousand formulaic techno copycats in his wake. Despite this, Mills feels positive about his influence on modern music.
"These people are all going through the same process I did. They're learning about something, liking it so much they wanna do it themselves and hopefully they'll end up create their own sound, or maybe even out of frustration create something totally new. At least some kind of action is being taken, which has to be positive.
"I learned from watching other DJs, tried to do what they did, and learnt to do it my own way. Instead of feeling angry, you see it another way: the music we love is being preserved. I once tried to replicate the sound of Kraftwerk, which was impossible! I was influenced by Moroder and Summer, especially in the early Axis material. I also used to look to Miles Davis' quartet compositions, which were very simple, and I used many of his concepts in the Millsart project."
It is fitting, then, that Mills' days as the Purposemaker are numbered: he claims that it was always his intention to pass the mantle onto a suitable candidate. "The Purposemaker is actually a character, and the idea is to make music for other people to use, a tool for others," he says. However, the chosen successor would have to work exclusively for the Purposemaker stamp, and financial and legal issues have to be sorted out first. Jeff also plans to start a third label, Tomorrow , which he wants to devote to musical and non-musical projects.
"The purpose of Tomorrow is to make music, but also spoken word work, sound effects and a combination of these elements. I want to make the listener feel a certain way, so I might just make a record with pure silence on it. I can see the value of a composition of nothing: in listening to it, the listener thinks, 'What the hell was on his mind when he was making this?' It's impossible to think of nothing, it would have to provoke a reaction, an emotion from what the listener does or doesn't hear."
As a parting shot, I ask Jeff what he'll be doing in ten years time: is it feasible that he'll still be DJing around the world?
"To be realistic, it will be more difficult to be a DJ. It's not always definite that I'll want to be behind two turntables, sweating to promote what I do. I can see myself still doing techno-oriented projects until I'm very old, even doing lecture tours. Techno will always be relevant."
And with that, the music's greatest, unassuming ambassador disappears into south London's bustling lunchtime crowd. n
* The Purposemaker is out now on React.