- The theme behind Sandino's café bar is revolution; located in the heart of Socialist "Free" Derry and named after the Nicaraguan rebel/hero Augusto Caesar Sandino, its blood red walls contain images of Che Guevara and iconography that loudly proclaims: "Free Palestine." Perhaps, then, it's a rather apt location for the crowd that Celtronic Festival attracts each year. Libertarians and hippie-ish avant-garde music loving kids abound, ready for music from the fringes: This year's roster of 37 acts features folktronica, dubstep and ambient experimental. Even better? The five day festival only costs a mere £30.
WEDNESDAY
It became quickly apparent that, even on a Wednesday night, that this was a deal that plenty of punters couldn't pass up. Usually, techno in the middle of the week is a non-starter for the second city of Northern Ireland, a place that is still crawling out of the economic doldrums of the 1997 peace process. Someone forgot to tell this to the 250 peeps bouncing on the floor to off-kilter pulsing beats, though. I ask one dancer why he thinks it's so rammed on a Wednesday. His curt reply: "The kids just wanna party man."
Warm up acts Jean Luc & Dollface and Mezzanaesia opened the floor with differing sounds. Electro clash disco beats with sweet chirping pop vocals vs. off key synths and industrious clanking that nods towards Raster-Noton's minimal sounds. Moshi Moshi's James Yuill, meanwhile, was the male equivalent of Little Boots with an electronic kit, and an acoustic guitar that led to "This Sweet Love," a ballad layered over techno beats that sounds a little bit like The Postal Service. "No Kids Allowed" similarly had a simple techno hook that looped over synths and guitar, leading one audience member to tell me that they liked it, "it's something different." The rest of the floor seemed split.
Photo credit: Paul Kavanagh
Phil Kiernan was up next, and he quickly brought things back to the realm of dark techno. Ever since the days of "Chunka Funk," Kiernan has had a touch of funk in the techno he creates. And tonight was no different, as sinister sounds with touches of intense belting bass created a tunnelling vortex of sound in Sandino's. The crowd responded in kind, getting messy, and throwing their fists in the air. I don't have any track IDs, all I know is that many of the cuts played came from his upcoming album on Cocoon, aside from the pared back simple notes of "Never Ending Mountain," which played out as his final tune of the night. It's pretty clear Kiernan—along with a vanguard of Irish producers like Donnacha Costello, Matador, Chymera and Sourcecode—represents all that is right with Irish techno at the moment.
FRIDAY
Set above a pub that holds traditional Irish music sessions and opposite a religious trinket store, The Gweedore is a little bit of debauchery amidst a sea of purity. On this night, Dixon was providing the tunes, the crowd the debauchery. As Dixon hit the decks, the half-full floor became immediately rammed. His set consisted of balmy grooves that filled the air with deep soulful vocals and warm saxophones that stretched their notes like an ode to Miles Davis's "Bitches Brew." Jäger shot-selling girls with tangerine short satin dresses, puffed hair and matching fake tans imposed on the otherwise perfect club feel, but the perfect crowd made up for it by dancing with no inhibition to the melodic harmonies and old school piano house proffered up by the long-haired jock whose mane swished in time with the music.
Photo credit: Paul Kavanagh
Henrik Schwarz's remix of The Detroit Experiment's "Think Twice," Morel's "Let's Groove," his own edit of Lykke Li's "Dance Dance Dance" and Ame's "Setsa." Wolf whistles and chants of "come on" from the floor added to things. So did boys taking their tops off and girls taking flowered garlands from around their necks to share with others. A girl tells me later on that she lost her job recently. "I'm so skint I'm in an £8 outfit from a charity shop, but there was no way I was missing this party." And, as a tribute to Michael Jackson plays, I ask someone what it's all about in 2009: "It's not about getting high any more, it's about the music being good enough to dance to with or without drugs and making it accessible for everyone." Indeed.
SUNDAY
What happens when you take an art gallery, place two tables in the middle of over-sized speaker racks, add some psychedelic graphics that bubble away on a pale back wall, sprinkle into the crowd barefoot girls and musicians such as Tom Middleton and Gary Curran of the Japanese Popstars and at the centre of it all place a wiry haired figure who operates a MIDI keyboard, 2 FaderFox units (a micromodul LX2 and a micromodul LD2A) a Mackie 1402 desk, a DP4 Effects Processor and a laptop running Ableton live?
Photo credit: Paul Kavanagh
An intimate art-house gig with Ulrich Schnauss, of course. The feeling of the night was summed up quite early by a girl who told me that there was a "very mellow mood in here." If Dixon was the sweaty rave up of Celtronic, this was the art voyeur's event. Only about 80 or so people gathered in, some who sat with legs crossed, some who wore plaited headbands in their hair and woollen Rastafarian style beanies that bobbed in the crowd as they moved to the music. "At least they're here for the music. Maybe Schnauss would prefer that to 1000 people who are drunk and out of their mind," another kid told me.
Schnauss's music is filled with deep, dense emotional swathes of synthesised ambient sounds that at times create a haunting like environ. Here, you could see how the sound intensified as his fingers triggered FaderFox controllers, which he would kick back and forth furiously at 90 degree angles. As the sound went shoegaze, I closed my eyes and it became like a drifting lullaby. Eventually, the pace picked up and pistons chugging away layered over tightly wound clonking wooden beats. And then what sounded like an arriving aeroplane spilled from the speakers—a rush of sound that he transformed into clean techno rhythms. With no crowd barriers, a guy danced freely right in front of Schnauss with a t-shirt proclaiming, "Hey Ho, Let's Go." Schnauss appeared unfazed, though, and continued playing as he ran his hand over the MIDI keys to create a frenzied noise over the programmed sounds he ran underneath.