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DJ Hell: Day + Night
DJ Hell has just released the most interesting album of his career, a double disc record that combines his dance floor focus and love of Kosmiche rock. RA's Richard Brophy calls up London to find out more.
Explaining his survival strategy, legendary investor Warren Buffett once said that he is "fearful when others are brave and...brave when others are fearful." And while Buffett may not have yet been vindicated by this daring approach, it seems that his philosophy has resonated in some unlikely places.
At a time when so many electronic music labels are flooding the market with poorly conceived, hastily executed releases, Munich's DJ Hell is bucking the trend. The head of the iconic International Deejay Gigolos label has just released his third artist album, Teufelswerk ("Devil's work" in German), a meticulously produced concept work, spread over two discs. "I felt it was time to say something new, to do something different," Hell says during a non-stop press day in London to promote the release. "A single CD that's 80 minutes long has its limitations, but I feel that the format is still important. From the artwork and design to the mastering and concept, the whole programme is important. You shouldn't just release music as a wav file, each release is meant to fully represent an artist's work."
Of course the last time I spoke to Hell, three years ago for the release of his Misch Masch mix CD, he said he was planning to release the album and possibly most of the Gigolos catalogue for free online. So why did he have a change of heart? "At that time I was thinking of doing it the way Radiohead did for their last album—they made good money and got a lot of attention," he explains. "I thought this would be the right decision, but then I had a rethink. I felt that we shouldn't give away our music for free, but at the same time, we didn't want to work against downloading music because we didn't want to stop some of our fans. There are ways of selling music digitally without giving it away."
All of which would have made perfect sense if the global economy hadn't taken a nosedive late in 2008 and conditions hadn't continued to deteriorate. To borrow from the pervasive economic jargon, Hell feels that macro issues, rather than the micro (ongoing) problems of falling sales in the music industry pose the greatest threat to the survival of Gigolos and underground labels generally. "The big problem now is the economic recession, it's hitting us hard, it's like a double blow," he says. "I feel that it's going to hit Europe very badly this year. A lot of people are going to lose their jobs and a lot of companies are going to go bankrupt. It's easy to realise this, but the worrying thing is that the media and the politicians don't want to talk about it too much or admit how bad it's going to be."
In the meantime, there's Teufelswerk, Hell's most ambitious release to date, to contend with. While it's tempting to theorize that the album further reflects the perverse symmetry between tough times and defining moments in Hell's career—his breakthrough release, the timeless "My Definition of House Music," was released at the start of the '90s, coinciding with the last major European recession, while 2001, when Gigolos lead the electroclash wave with releases by Fischerspooner and Kittin & Hacker, was also the year of the 9/11 attacks and the start of the war on terror—the reality is that the latest album was the product of a few years' work in a number of different locations.
"The album reflects my music and my DJing over the past 30 years," proclaims Hell in such a convincing manner that it's hard to doubt him. "It was recorded over a period of one-and-a-half years and the presentation, the design, took another half a year, but getting the contracts signed took even longer," he explains, alluding to some of the big names who have contributed to Teufelswerk. "But I'm happy to release the album on my own label and control the release. I did a lot of production in Vienna, Berlin and Copenhagen and then I didn't listen to the album for about two months to get a fresh perspective. It was the most intense studio work I've ever done—I pushed myself to another level of production and I'm very proud with the result," he adds.
Divided into "Day" and "Night" discs, unsurprisingly, the latter focuses on the dance floor. It succinctly represent Hell's own DJing, from the prowling bass and sleazy Chicago jack of "The DJ"—featuring P Diddy—through the Dr Motte-style screeching '90s techno of "The Disaster" and electro-techno growler "Bodyfarm" as well as the chart hit in waiting "U Can Dance," with Bryan Ferry crooning effortlessly as only Bryan Ferry can over a catchy electronic disco backing track. "The DJs will buy this album for the 'Night' part: it reflects all my years, my career as a DJ," Hell notes.
Big names and dance floor tracks aside though, Teufelswerk is really fascinating because of Hell's approximation of '70s music on the "Day" disc. "Germania," "Nightclubbing" and "The Angst" are epic, unpredictable pieces that lurch from textured ambience into dramatic synth arrangements featuring swathes of freeform guitar jams and even some pomp rock riffs. In parts reminiscent of early Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream and Krautrock bands like Can and in others prog rock stalwarts like Pink Floyd, it's shamelessly indulgent—but Hell felt that after NY Muscle, he needed to do something new.
"I did a lot of the punk stuff on NY Muscle, so I didn't want to repeat myself. That album was punk with a New York flavour and I lived over there while we were recording to make sure it had the genuine sound that the city brings. Every five years or so I have to do something new, I have to reinvent myself. I didn't want to touch on the 1980s on 'Day' because I have done that so much before, so this time I went back to the 1970s," he explains.
Like a method actor approaching a particularly complex role, Hell immersed himself in the music of the time and even slipped into the recording approach used by the acts he took inspiration from. Of course, it also helped that he spent part of his childhood in front of his bedroom mirror, trying to emulate his idols: "I was a kid at the time, so I was listening to it at home, dancing around my bedroom. I was too young to go to the clubs, but I really liked Slade, Gary Glitter and Suzy Quatro, but around the same time, I was also into early electronic music: even as a kid, I was always really into music," Hell laughs.
"When I was recording 'Day,' I listened to a lot of Neu, Can and Jah Wobble. I'm a fan of early Kraftwerk, but when they were becoming popular, punk from the UK was coming to Germany and the energy was incredible. During the recording, I also listened to Pink Floyd, especially what they were doing around the time of Dark Side of the Moon," he explains. "The production became a fluid process and a lot of the time, we were just jamming together, like Pink Floyd or Can would have done." So why then did Hell not give full vent to his reinvention and produce a whole double album of spaced-out, '70s-themed experiments? "If we did the 'Day' album on its own, no one would buy it," comes the honest reply.
Despite his reservations, "Day" could have been released as a standalone album, albeit in an extended form. It has an off-centre hit in the form of Hell's cover version of Hawkwind's "Silver Machine," delivered in all the blissed out, stoned magnificence that it deserves—"DJs should never sing, so I got a guy called Roberto to do the vocals, with a little help from Billie Ray Martin," Hell says—and even its doubting author believes that there may be room for "Day" on the dance floor. "I'd love to hear people play music from 'Day' in clubs, and I've heard that there are some people who are already playing this type of set—Erol Alkan is meant to be doing slower, ambient sets now," he says. "Remember when Mixmaster Morris played everything from Pink Floyd to Silver Apples and Aphex Twin? It would be great to hear these kind of sets again."
As important as the music is, though, Hell clearly puts as much stock in his image: Just take a look at the album's artwork, which sees Hell daubed in rainbow make-up that screams Ziggy Stardust and wearing the kind of angularly padded double-breasted jacket that The Cars would have killed for. Then again, Hell was always more sartorially elegant than his techno peers and projected a strong look, even back in his more purist "Totmacher" and "Allerseelen" phase.
"I started to do my own photos because I was always unhappy with how I looked in these photo shoots for magazines. I didn't want to have the typical DJ shots wearing a hoody top or posing with headphones because I could never fit into that persona," he explains. "I feel that how you look is a big part of my world and what I do. It was the same for Grace Jones and David Bowie; how you present yourself counts, if it's on a record or in a club. Don't be lazy—take care of how you look." Indeed, when Hell's not making music or DJing, he works closely with the fashion industry in Germany, producing bespoke pieces of music for the catwalks. "I'm also designing sunglasses, men's underwear and a designer CD wallets for DJs," he points out.
However, DJing is still his first passion; while Hell has been spinning for close to 30 years and is now a youthful 46, he dismisses any suggestion that he's too old for his profession and believes that he is only beginning to reach his true potential. "When I DJ, I try to present the best music from all the best genres to create something great; this is what Ron Hardy or Jon Peel did and I'm from the same school—there are no limits," he claims. "Maybe a DJ needs to travel, to experience different countries, cultures or food to put something new on the table. Age doesn't matter; you could be 26 or 46, but once you're behind the decks, what you play and how you play it is all that counts."
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Published / Tuesday, 05 May 2009
 27 Comments
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