Dance music and politics were never compatible bedfellows. The largely instrumental nature of the genre and its primary function to make people dance coupled with its unwritten hedonistic agenda sits uncomfortably with the political sloganeering of its socially aware rock contemporaries.
Attempts to mix these two elements, usually involving an element of rock music were at best unsuccessful and at worst embarrassing, with Back To The Planet, Senser and countless other crusty crossover efforts that clogged up column inches in the NME and Melody Maker during the early to mid 90s remaining an unforgettable deterrent to any budding acid house soapbox types.
In the spheres of house and techno, adding political content to socially spawned music has always been pointless. Sure, it s possible to look to Detroit s Underground Resistance, their quasi-militant urban guerrilla poses and vague mentions of liberation and warfare as a foil to the argument, but they remain the merest blemish in the musical heritage of Detroit and Chicago.
Born as a form of escape from the depressing and dying environments that their practitioners were surrounded by, Detroit techno looked to the stars and sci-fi for further adventures, while Chicago house celebrated the simple joys of life: dancing, love/sex, getting high and having loads of fun.
Unfortunately for both parent genres, recent years have seen US hip-hop artists and European producers win more attention for their adaptation of everyday life to a musical format. In the UK, speed garage and drum n bass are the two most on the level forms, while the rest of the world is still excited about the French explosion. Ironically, the artist most likely to steal back the thunder for the Yanks in 99 is Cajmere, a producer who has stepped over the boundary a number of times to comment on socio-political topics.
Under his Green Velvet alter-ego, the Flash , Preacher Man and Answering Machine 12 s were among the biggest tunes of recent years, hi-octane jackin house that nonetheless managed to hit home with astute social commentary. Now his new album, Constant Chaos, a minefield of personal traumas and reflections on the woes of our world is already vying for the coveted album of the year title.
It s a reference to life and how I view it, confirms Cajmere over the phone from his hotel room. I m not worried about how people perceive me, I go through it all the time. In my music, my image, my career, people think I m out to prove a point, but I just view what I do as not conforming to society and what I m supposed to be. I didn t come up with the title, Chaos as an afterthought either: it describes the stress and troubles people suffer from, no matter how relaxed they seem.
As an example, Cajmere describes the upheavals in his own life. My life used to be far more difficult. Nowadays, the labels (Cajual and Relief) are in a state of limbo, but I used to pretty much run them on my own, that s no joke. Then throw in the variable of being an artist and it all becomes exponentially more difficult. We d have problems like the distributors not paying us, and although the releases were selling well, the industry were less willing to show an interest in the more experimental material.
With two of Chicago s most respected imprints left in hibernation, Cajmere had room to take his own risks, releasing Chaos on the Belgian Music Man label. While he believes most clubbers still opt for the safe bets , the album consists of twisted, albeit floor-friendly techno torchsongs. Covering topics as diverse as electrocution, sex, reincarnation, alien abduction and the breakdown of society through technology malfunctions, Constant Chaos is realised against a backdrop of jarring acid riffs, grating techno grooves and, at times, old skool rave signatures, re-filtered and interpreted in a 1999 pre-apocalypse style. A troubled antidote to Air and squeaky clean dance-pop, the work is a fitting soundtrack to welcome in Year 2000 and its associated prophecies of doom.
I like dark, raw music, I rate Surgeon and Aubrey explains Cajmere. Music that makes you wanna party, that sounds great through a big sound system in a club but that also makes you think, what s this? . I don t like formulaic music what I always try to do is to bring something new and innovative to people. Chaos isn t just a club album, but it certainly ain t an easy listening album either.
A regular on the European DJ circuit, Cajmere, however, is more known for his live performances when he adopts the Green Velvet persona. A mock horror techno romp that sees Caj s get out make Dame Edna Everage s wardrobe seem conservative, the Green Velvet show is pure theatre, done in the tradition of Chi town partying.
Mind you, listening to Cajmere it seems that, in the US, the house party has been superseded by the rave and techno scenes. I haven t been out in Chicago recently, because I think people there have given up the fight. The rave scene and the techno parties are much fresher, they ve been going on for a while, but they don t get much press. I only wish that the old people maintained the same naiveti and enthusiasm about the whole situation. Maybe they should listen to the work of their own hellfire and brimstone preacherman, Cajmere, for a dose of end of the millennium psychosis house music. n
Constant Chaos is released on Music Man on February 8th