WE FEAR SILENCE PRESENT: BLUEPRINT w/ BEN KLOCK, BLAWAN + DVS1
Cable, London | April 5th
First, a declaration of interest. At Crack, we like techno. A lot.
House, disco, garage: they’re all amazing, but nothing hits us quite as viscerally as the intensity and slow development of an evening of techno music. Put simply, it cuts deep. This is an important admission, because the genre offers so few soft landings; no gentle ‘in’. Often, it’s pretty much impossible to access, like musical marmite in spoonfuls.
Yet with that hurdle long since overcome, it was with a spring in its step that Crack emerged on Friday beneath London Bridge’s arches for a 12 hour workout at Cable. Four serious DJs, each one playing a three hour set, promised a banquet of intense main-room partying for ‘We Fear Silence presents Blueprint’.
The line-up consisted of prodigious upstart Blawan, Berlin’s pre-eminent Ben Klock, Blueprint label boss James Ruskin and US underground talent DVS1, who was the night’s real hero.
After a queue lengthily disproportionate to the size of the venue, sobered-up revellers fell into a plunge bath of Ruskin stompers. It was a bit much, to be honest, affording the chance to warm up in Room 2 instead. A handful of low-profile DJs, on behalf of Colony, laid down varied techno, infused with grime, breaks, ‘UK bass’ and the acceptable side of dubstep.
Blawan followed Ruskin, under a weight of expectation. A series of collaborations, culminating most recently with a Surgeon tie-up, appear to have given him a seat at techno’s top table. But unlike Surgeon, he hasn’t necessarily earned this yet. Occasionally, his set sounded like the worst aspects of his productions: gratuitously brutal. One Crack associate’s interpretation, that this was like “being fisted by Mr Blobby” seemed rather extreme. Yet it was indeed unsubtle, insistent and often painful. It was devoid of texture, and lacked climax. The impression it left was that Blawan, once associated with ‘fun’ party tunes, was making a point of his latest hard techno persona.
Lucky, then, that his set was cut short at two hours, and on came the mighty DVS1, who’s been propping up mid-West America’s techno scene for decades. The extent of this man’s record collection and the depth of his experience provided an immediate, welcome contrast.
Gnarly synths kept unravelling new layers of percussion and ornament. Complex arpeggios interlocked perfectly with snatches of acerbic clap or snare. Rolling rhythms would lose touch of each other then, just at the right moment, conform rigidly again, accompanied by the perfect bass drop. One sinewy bass line meandered, without kick drum, for what felt like 10 minutes before stepping into line. Then he would visit tumbling oil cans of metallic techno onto his audience, in the best way imaginable.
DVS1’s set was not just the best of the night but a true masterclass. As is often the case with such things, the elder statesman showed the wisdom of his years: the most experienced, intuitive DJs don’t look like they’re using technology, they look like they’re playing an instrument.
Ben Klock, who effectively ‘discovered’ DVS1 five years ago and has supported him since, was similarly at ease with his craft. His recognisably statuesque figure arrived, seemingly (and somewhat churlishly) after a full night’s sleep, an orange juice and a bowl of muesli, to an awe-struck audience at 8am. His sound was Berlin-cold and constantly riveting.
Even though the mixing was sloppy at times and unable to rival DVS1’s majesty, he justified his standing. Klock remains a true don of the stern, relentless techno he has helped to proliferate in Germany. For the techno heads, of which many turned out, this was well worth staying up for. Everyone else was right not to bother.
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Words: Nick Johnstone
Photos: Alex Daniels
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