YOU CAN CALL ME CAL

Last month saw the release of dEcal s second album, Lo-Lite on their own Ultramack label. A painstakingly-created collection of abstract techno, the album is the duo s second to date, but has received little or no press coverage, bar a few perplexed reviews from mainstream publications.
Naturally, if Dennis McNulty and Alan O Boyle were foreign, or if their music had more of a rock influence, the critics would surely be creaming themselves.
The Irish press haven t a clue about dance music, confirms Dennis. At the start it was hilarious, but now it s got to the stage where we want to be left alone. It s annoying when someone with a token interest in dance music interviews us and starts comparing us to the Chemical Brothers, music that s light years away from what we do.
While Dennis jokingly suggests that dEcal would be taken more seriously if we had our photos taken standing behind synths, or with guitars: people can relate to that , the pair have managed to survive the ignorance shown them by being resourceful and enterprising. They own the Ultramack label together with their manager, responsible for the release of both dEcal albums and a stunner by like-minded producer Anodyne, while the promotions wing of Ultramack have staged the capital s more adventurous dance nights, including the recent live performance by ex-Black Doggers, Plaid. Remaining true to their indie/punk DIY ethics, Alan believes self-promotion is the only way to succeed.
To get to play live in Dublin you have to put on your own gigs, he insists. Do it yourself: don t wait around for promoters who don t really know what we re about. Anyway, live dance music has gone underground: people who do it are involved for the love and not the money. Bands like Autechre, Plaid and Bandulu are all playing smaller venues now because live electronic music isn t trendy.
Like the aforementioned bands, dEcal exist outside of any scene or genre, but also like their contemporaries, they have felt the effect of what was once a phunk city turning into a phucked city . Dennis reckons a shift in drug usage has brought about the situation.
For a lot of people, techno equals drugs, and when they stopped taking pills they couldn t see the point, because they weren t listening to the music properly. They ve all moved onto big beat now, which is vacuous music, but that s probably where its appeal lies.
Listen to Lo-lite, and it s clear that techno s influence has lived on, chez dEcal at least. From the old skool Detroit electro of Zerostar , the tense nighttime world jazz of Camoflage , and the Vogel-on-tranquilisers buzz of Pigeyes , to the clanging metallic melody of Phunk City , every element of the genre is represented imaginatively. It s hardly surprising that the boys recent chart in Digital Beat had a heavy leaning towards the Motor City, and that even when they were in rock bands (Dennis is still a member of Dublin atonal experimentalists Schroeder s Cat), they were down with black, urban streetsounds.
I got into dance music through electro, explains Dennis, before that I was into Queen! Seriously though, I love Basic Channel, but I m surprised that it took Maurizio so long to realise that the music he makes is actually modern dub. Octave One s new album is like definitive Detroit because it s so raw, polyrhythmic and percussive: a track goes on for ages, and then they play one note that throws you completely. Techno is the master!
Despite their love of experimental music, dEcal see a stage where they ll have to find a real day job ` la Larry Heard. Fair play to him for going back to his job, I m sure that ll happen to us at some stage, says Dennis.
However, unlike Larry Heard, dEcal aren t about to sell their equipment: We ll just release records when we feel like it. At the moment we re just making enough money on the label to put out the records anyway.
Stop what you re doing, go to your local record store, and ask the nice man behind the counter for a copy of Lo-Lite. Tell him Richard sent you. n
Lo-Lite is out now on Ultramack.