Crack

A darkened cafe, the interior starkly contrasted against the gleaming sunshine outside, seemed a fitting scene for twenty-one year old Julio Bashmore’s interrogation.

The clattering of crockery and chatter of ladies-what-lunch, launched the afternoon into full swing. The atmosphere was well-suited to a thoughtful discussion with the methodological, sure-footed Bristol-based house producer about the hype that is currently engulfing his music.
Fitting, I felt, because: a) only a non-scenester would be happy to order Moroccan mint tea (a sort of test) and b) being, as he is, white and ginger, the baking summer heat-wave forced us to meet in shady circumstances.

He turns out to be a man of simple pleasures... preferring to simply make music, than to traipse around DJ'ing for the many promoters that want him. He is not anti-DJing, nor does he possess a sense of exclusivity; he simply prefers being locked away, producing. To my knowledge, he hasn’t agreed to an interview until this one either.

Unfortunately, as such, you won’t be able to hear his slow-paced, stripped back house sets (from 95 to 125 bpm) anywhere this summer. A panoply of impending releases, a fully fledged EP and, somewhere in the desolate winter of 2011, an album, prevents him experimenting with his sounds on revellers. Being pale and ginger by his own admission, he also can’t physically handle summer gigs, as he explains: “I’ve tried camping and it doesn’t agree with me. I need my home comforts. Just give me a dark, air-conditioned room with a sofa in it and I’ll be happy”.

He is, indeed, as picky about his comforts as he is about where he plays out: “I’ve been invited to play at big dubstep nights, but haven’t. I can’t imagine following wonky, aggressive dubstep basslines and the crowd still being happy with things being slowed down. So I’ve had to refuse quite a few.”

It’s not arrogance that influences these decisions, but characteristic thoughtfulness and specificity. The overriding feeling is that he’s in electronic music for the long run. And that can mean some sacrifices at the beginning...he thinks.

Despite his near-pornographic moniker (‘Bash-more’), Matt, as he is somewhat anticlimactically (and I think comically) otherwise known, is a far cry from superficial. Bashmore was signed to Dirty Bird (Claude Von Stroke’s brainchild label) for his debut release and he is sure to point out that this fact is a game changer. You or I couldn’t refuse to play Fabric based on the line-up, but, with Dirty Bird as point one on his curriculum vitae, he can be more selective about which doors are opened and which are closed.

How did it happen? A previously unknown producer from South Bristol, insulated from all but the focus on low, bass frequencies of the Bristol dubstep scene, is signed at the age of twenty-one on the most revered house label around. What’s the secret?

Unfortunately, there isn't one. From much flabbergasted probing, deduction only suggests that his music is simply very good at moving bodies on the dancefloor. He has filled a niche in DJs record boxes where it should say ‘grooving, stripped-back, percussive or uplifting’ and thus, his first attempt at getting signed was so successful. His music, simple but by no means easy, turned heads. Bashmore says that he’s tried to tick the house music archetypal boxes in the past, but it just produces crap.

“Let the music dictate the genre, not the genre dictate the music”, is his philosophy. He is consequently in high demand. The name itself, Julio Bashmore, betrays Matt’s subtle business acumen: “People want to book a persona. They expect a handsome Latin man, and they get a pasty ginger”. It’s a formula that has worked in the past: Claude von Stroke’s real name is, in fact... Barclay.

Julio Bashmore was keen to talk about The Artist Formerly Known As (or ‘the genius’) Prince, and how, increasingly, he hears producers habitually referencing his unique, funky sound. Bashmore openly admits he gets both inspiration and influence from Prince’s sound. What I didn’t mention was that, perhaps, hearing the work of an artist you love in everything, you hear is one of the first signs of chronic obsession. Prince was, at the last count, mentioned once every ten minutes.

“Apart from Prince, my influences are classic, popular, early 90s house. In fact, the campest funky house. I grew up in the musical shadow of my older brothers and, before I was aware of clubbing or making songs designed to fit into DJ sets, I was bowled over by house music. I understand that house music has to fit in to other people’s DJ sets for it to find its place and that subsequently there is a friction between creativity and practicality. But I’m lucky as artistically what I want to make is music that works for DJs too”.

The UK funky scene, with its tribal elements and focus on percussion and simple melody, more than bass, really helped Bashmore achieve recognition. If forced to compare (an act most consummate musicians dislike), he sees his music more in-line with the likes of Addison Groove (‘footcrab footcrab footcrab‘) than with the dubstep around him.

The only trend Bashmore consciously feels part of is one of age, he explains: “Music is becoming a young-man’s game”, only, he doesn’t consider himself as one of the junior cohort: “I thought I was young, but look at Kyle Hall... he’s 18 and look what he’s producing. If you compare that to what I was doing when I was 18, well, its embarrassing.” Budding producers older than 21 reading this may, however, have little sympathy.

In his teens Bashmore was playing in an electro band, and producing dance music seemed the next natural step, something he is well aware of: “I stopped playing my guitar as much, and just enjoyed the electronic sounds and manipulation. After college, my five year plan was to get signed producing house music. I was set to study production as a degree, as part of the five year plan... but then I got signed to Dirty Bird.” The five year plan was successfully achieved in, well, a month. The Soviet planners would have been proud.

Perhaps what distinguishes Bashmore and other young producers from the other thousands is hardware: Bashmore’s funding from releases and DJ gigs is always reinvested back into more hardware. “Financially, I’m doing OK. I can’t go on holiday. But I can buy machines.” A promiscuous eBayer, his love of hardware defines his sound and, although not on the scale of Richard D James’ collection of analogue synths housed in an abandoned bank somewhere in London’s Elephant and Castle, getting off on Rolands, MPCs and Yamahas is what gets Julio Bashmore up in the morning.

A sophisticated sound can be very simple (not easy, mark you) but, importantly, it must be of an analogue connoisseur’s impeccable quality to get experienced crowds moving. This teased-out skill can be heard in fullest effect when listening to Julio Bashmore’s 808-kicks-laced, World Peace.

As such, the future holds hours of constantly refining his neo-funky-house sound – which might seem a bit lonesome for the likes of us. Yet, such concentration leads to bright and sparkly things, with DJ sets in the pipeline throughout Europe, the States and Canada. On the back of the recent remix of Hypno’s War Demons on PTN, we’ll soon be hearing a release on Soulmotive this July and Footsteppin Casm on Ten Thousand Yen soon to follow. These three releases, however, are but small fry in comparison to the EP and album that are to follow on an as-yet-unnamed, sure-to-be-hot label headed-up by Bashmore’s manager-extraordinaire.

The second five year plan, he tells me, involves two long-held dreams. First, setting-up a fully fledged studio that brings with it, no doubt, case-loads of analogue keyboards and drum machines. After the studio, Bashmore sketches-out the outlet for his non-house sounds. His own imprint, Broadwalk Records, (named after the suburban shopping centre near his home) will release reams of g-funk hip-hop and other renditions “too weird and camp for a house label”. Although his success has exceeded even his own expectations, his appetite for positive, uplifting, funky music is on the rise. I have a sneaking suspicion that, following in the footsteps of his muse Prince, the future might also hold changing his name to a suitably pornographic symbol.



Words: Jon Wiltshire

Tune: Banda 2

http://www.myspace.com/juliobashmore

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