30.07.24
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Original release date: 9 June, 2003
Label: Tempa Recordings

Emphasising power and using scarcity to its advantage, the early dubstep scene flexed with the first instalment of this now-seminal DJ mix series

In June 2003, the first-ever release to use the name dubstep landed: Dubstep Allstars Vol. 1, mixed by DJ Hatcha for Tempa Recordings. In the early 2000s, dubstep was mutating in real time at the FWD>> club night at London’s Velvet Rooms and Plastic People. Vol. 1, near-perfect in its vision and execution, serves as a snapshot of this time; after the dominance of 1990s UK garage, and before the wobble-centric brostepmutation of the 2010s. Vol. 1’s swung ’n’ subby sonic flow is more sour than Sincere, more subtle than Spongebob or Scary Monsters & Nice Sprites.

My 2003 review of Vol. 1 for Jockey Slut magazine framed the release as the foundational statement of the genre: “After three years deep underground, a compilation steps up to define what dubstep is. Turns out it’s futuristic Croydon garage that takes in Detroit, drum’n’bass, broken beat and, would you believe it, dub [influences].”

Dubstep’s founding fathers fill Vol. 1: El-B and Ghost camp member Roxy (RIP), Horsepower Productions, Artwork, Benga, Skream, Kode9, The Spaceape (RIP) and Hatcha himself. There are some obvious omissions – Zed Bias, Slaughter Mob and Oris Jay – while others were more in dialogue with breakbeat (DJs Zinc and Hype), grime (Plastician) and broken beat (Landslide). Digital Mystikz would only gain momentum the year after. But broadly speaking, Vol. 1 is a snapshot of the visionaries that laid dubstep’s foundations.

While keeping its rhythmic backbone of skippy 2-step drums, Vol. 1 shows impressive range. Benga’s Star Wars (The Hatcha VIP) has something of Musical Mob’s skeletal, proto-grime classic Pulse X about it, but with laser snares that are offset at the end of the bar. It foreshadows the ‘kick-spacesnare-space’ half-step beat that would come to define dubstep. Mark One, now of Ibiza dance duo Solardo, contributes Rage, fuelled by breakbeat fills.

Benny Ill looms large throughout. He’s involved in nearly half the tracks on Vol. 1. Sholay is a joyous, subby re-contextualising of vocals from the legendary Indian film of the same name. On Classic Deluxe – so named because every sample used comes from a classic – he invokes the lilting soca beat pattern, as does the Latin American-influenced Cuba by El-B and Roxy.

Through these stylistic choices, Vol. 1 created ripples; some of them did “define what dubstep is”, some ultimately did not. In fewer than five years, dubstep was transformed from a 50-person community making dark 134 bpm beats into global 145 bpm midrange wobbles that felt palatable to Americans raised on metal and emo bands.

 

“'Vol. 1' shows the effects of scarcity on quality: to be in a Hatcha set was everything, but to make the grade, each track had to survive his selection filter, the cost of being cut to dubplate and a road test on the punishing Plastic People system”

 

So far is the journey from then until now that Hatcha’s selections could be unrecognisable to contemporary fans. The comments sections on YouTube uploads of Vol. 1 reveals dubstep fans’ repeated asks: “how is this even the same genre?”

Scarcity played a big role in Vol. 1. A small number of influential selectors were chosen to mix the series’ 11 volumes, just as Hatcha chose a small number of influential producers to champion on Vol. 1. At the time, Hatcha commanded an outsized power by playing exclusive dubplates on a handful of dancefloors and pirate radio stations.

His competitive mindset and aggressive mixing propelled the scene forward, invoking a dubstep arms race. By 2003, it wasn’t good enough to buy new records in shops for a FWD>> set. Tracks had to be unreleased and, ideally, exclusive. Vol. 1 shows the effects of scarcity on quality: to be in a Hatcha set was everything, but to make the grade, each track had to survive his selection filter, the cost of being cut to dubplate and a road test on the punishing Plastic People system. Factor into this Tempa’s own A&R filter, and the quality bar goes some way to explaining the longevity of the mix.

Music habits changed more in the 20 years after the release of the mix than in the two decades before it. Back then, underground dance music relied on a gatekeeper-controlled network of radio, magazines and physical releases. Now, we all command instant access to a superabundance of audio. Only a tiny minority rely on magazines for music discovery, buy music in physical formats or even own a functional player for such formats. Given the explosion in access, it feels inconceivable that any one audio mix could make or break a DJ today. To command the respect and attention that Hatcha did in 2003, a contemporary DJ would have to fight past the deluge of daily uploaded mixes.

But this era of abundance has trade-offs: it exchanges increased musical access and choice for diminished ownership and durability. The growth and collapse of MySpace tells this story: two months after Vol. 1 was released, the network gave musicians a revolutionary way to share music without gatekeepers, technical barriers, geographical boundaries or expense. The dubstep scene embraced MySpace.

Today, MySpace is a relic – and worse still, it has decayed, admitting in 2019 it had lost 50m tracks uploaded onto the site before 2016. With the Dubstep Allstars series absent from Spotify still, it’s now thanks to YouTube that a global audience can access Vol. 1. A 2003 mix series on a physical format may seem like an artefact from a bygone age, but it continues to nudge listeners into thinking about the ownership of music by fans, the creative output of grassroots communities and more durable forms of archiving.