- During a lull in Ben Klock's set at Blkmarket Membership, as tracks began to shift from scuffed murmurs to stadium-sized magma, a profusely sweating Londoner turned to me and asked, "Who is this DJ?" Considering the tendency to fetishize the techno culture of Berlin in general and Berghain specifically, it was a moment of levity to come across an attendee whose appreciation of the jackhammer thrills had nothing to do with the foggy mythologies and unrealistic expectations that often accompany appearances by the likes of Klock in New York. The venue for this Ostgut Ton night was no Berghain, and it didn't need to be: Klock's sound evolved in tandem with that concrete stronghold, but his mixing manages to define spaces with a melodic brutalism all his own.
Entering the high-ceilinged room from off a gloomy side-street, the space was bare save for an enormous mirror ball slung low over the crowd, its constant revolving adding an incongruous sparkle. The crowd seemed small considering the name recognition of Klock and Ostgut Ton, with ample space to dance and wander. Ryan Elliott and Evan Baggs gamely represented the Zoo Project in the smaller of the two rooms, but the sparsely populated dance floor failed to generate any sort of unifying energy, with the room used primarily by smokers and others slumping against the walls.
Klock played for three hours, sidestepping the clock-watching that sometimes accompanies his marathon sessions. The pacing was often exhilarating but a tad too linear, alternating sweeps of percussive aggression and retrenchment. Klock judiciously deployed 303 gargles while tracks like Marcel Dettman's remix of the Junior Boys' "Work" flexed lascivious vocals. When he transitioned from grey-scale tonalities to a ravier palette the results were comparatively beatific. I'm an admitted sucker for gimmicky stagecraft: When Klock shined his flashlight into the audience in conjunction with seismograph basslines for example. Judging by the resulting cheers, I wasn't the only one.
Klock also deserves credit for the way he manages to blanket a room with productions as warm as they are calculated for maximum movement, moments when the planetarium chairs recline and you're left staring into space. He closed with his own remix of Josh Wink's "Are You There?" and while the squealing breaks played hide-and-seek with the vocal, you could hear a girl in the crowd shouting along with every inquiry, "I'm right here!"
As a replacement for Marcel Fengler, DVS1 unleashed springy and sour-faced hard techno. His mixing style is palpably physical and a joy to watch as he emphasizes constant frequency manipulation. Shards of noise pierced the rhythmic tics in DVS1's closing set, contours amplified by the way he pinpointed brief breaks of clarity amidst the general murk. There was an unfortunately timed subwoofer problem, though, and by the time the steroidal boom returned with a vengeance many had already retreated outside, stumbling back into the industrial anonymity of Brooklyn at 6:00 AM.