Perl River is for many a definitive trance track. As with most things though, definition (or rather social labelling) holds greater sway than any specific characteristics. How we think about the world is always holds more sway than the objective reality of the world.
The period betwen 1998-2001, plus or minus a few years, is commonly regarded as the ‘golden age of trance’. In 1999 Pearl River smashed out across dance floors across the globe. DJs smoothly mixed the track into countless double CD compilations following on from its clubland fortunes. This late 90s success earmarked it as genre framing classic trance and I distinctly remember it featuring in a Gatecrasher New Years Eve Classics night in the mid 2000s.
In truth, 1999 was Pearl River’s second outing. Originally hitting dance floors in 1996 with a release in 1997, it shares status with other ‘classic-trance-from-99’ tunes which weren’t actually from 1999 at all; Paul Van Dyk’s For An Angel probably being the foremost example.
Like the archaeologist who digs up an Iron Age broach which has evidently been made in the Bronze age, we have to ask, what’s at play here? Why did some Trance fall short in the mid-90s only to explode in the late-90s?
Explanation can be found by examining the socio-economic historical context of Pearl River’s first outing. In 1996 clubland was a very different place. The euphoria from the days of acid house had all but been completely extinguished by the crackdown on race culture codified into law by 1994’s Criminal Justice Act.
As "sounds wholly or predominantly characterised by the emission of a succession of repetitive beats" were being slowly and uncertainly appropriated by a fledgling club culture, the ravers used to hurtling round the M25 of a weekend looking for tips on the next illegal party didn’t feel comfortable enough just yet to abandon the free cultural moral high-ground and head into the arms of the capitalists - however clean the toilets and good the weather was indoors.
It would take a youth culture in the UK who were happy to embrace the benefits of high capitalism’s cultural product, of cultural consumption choices used to create post-modern musical identity, clubbing brands rather than simple clubs and record labels as websites, T-Shirts, video streams and web radio for a dance music to really grow.
In 1996 and 1997 things were beginning to bubble. The queues outside house and techno clubs were getting longer and someone walking around town in a Ministry of Sound T-Shirt didn’t look out of place. The formula of the golden era of trance had yet to be agreed upon, but the key musical characteristics were being experimented with. Breakdowns were getting longer, snare rolls louder, saws were making wider leads and Dutch DJs seemed to be talked about more and more.
The kids who were too young to have embraced Acid House were thinking about electronic music and clubbing in an increasingly positive light. Thinking they could get the best out of capitalism without any of the cost they started getting sucked in. It isn’t without irony that many from this cohort were the first and loudest to proclaim in the early 2000s that the trance bubble had burst, that the brands had become too commercial and the music had become a boring and formulaic only driven by hype. Followers of Techno on the other hand, a much more subversive, anti-mainstream and possible even politically aware genre, just looked on with a smug smile, saying quietly ‘I told you this would happen’.
So, in 1996 and 1997, people just weren't ready for Pearl River. Only by 1999, when the commercial apparatus of Trance as a clubbing brand, a cultural identity marker and symbol of post-post-Modernity was ready did it have the success it finally won. This odd artifact in the social memory of Trance is worth thinking about as it throws up some very interesting questions about aesthetic origin and of course the normative account of the genre’s history...not bad for something you mum probably owns on her digitally mixed ‘WORLD’S BEST MEGA-TRANCE HITS’ triple compilation.
Trance – what should I say about the much abused genre? I'd never admit it to the uber-cool elitists nodding rhythmically to Dave Clarke or Rex The Dog, writing down each and every record in the set list, but I do have a soft spot for the genre. Trance was the genre which brought me into DJing, sparking the obsession for record collecting and electronic music which has been with me for the majority of my life. Alarming but true. When my mind was opened to electronica, trance was the upcoming sound of the moment, bubbling away with an unrestrained energy in the few years before its unprecedented explosion into popular culture.
It is all too easy to fall back on the ubiquitous old writ that 'Trance is not what it used to be'. Wile there is truth in that to a degree - modern trance productions frequently rely on massive overproduction to carry a tune and excessively euphoric and uplifting programming to achieve their sound - I'm wise enough to understand that many of us are looking back on things with a rather biased perspective. Who doesn't think that their defining soundtrack, their pure genre, their musical everything hasn't lost the soul that made it so great along its way? This is a common understanding which unites the punks of the 70s, the goths of the 80s and the ravers of the 90s.
Despite all this, sometimes the jaded, tinnitus ridden ears of this record collector strike lucky. Despite the bias, despite the over production and despite the commerce you get to hear a genre defining track. As if out of nowhere, it makes you remember just what it was you loved about all that chemical driven Cyberdog Gatecrasher hands in the air nonsense.
After you've heard this, you once more know what to say about Trance. Close your eyes, let your mind go blank, and you’re on an introspective journey wherever your mind wants to take you. Add some substances of questionable legal origin into the mix, and you’re on a trip to another realm of consciousness altogether.
I have a bit of a bias against orchestral music. Classical music in particular is heralded as the most technically proficient, the most intellectually stimulating and aurally arousing genre in the history of mankind. Many use it as the yardstick with which to measure every other composed work.
In truth, it’s simply the preserve of the well off, highly educated and quite often snobbish sections of society. Like fine champagne, its only real value lies in its scarcity; its esoteric rules out of reach to most, with access granted only to a certain privileged elite of society. In short, orchestral music is bourgeois.
The problem is, high cultural biases aside, orchestral music seems to capture an almost physically tangible epicness. Producers have many times over tried to capture this and imprint it onto their own work. Usually the results feel forced and uncomfortable. All the classical composition clichés are wheeled out in a cringe worthy effort to make the latest electronic hit serious and intellectual. The classical crew don’t do much better either when they repackage their sound with a sexy mega babe and cinematic video in an attempt to make it edgy and cool and get da yoofs listenin’ to BBC Radio 3 yo.
That’s why Hybrid’s Finished Symphony is so perfectly unique. Recorded in Moscow with the Russian Federal Orchestra, it succeeds because the orchestral and electronic are arranged in such a way as to build on individual strengths and compliment, not to bask in reflected glory.
By no small coincidence, good record collectors also tend to be good tunespotters. Admittedly, it does verge on the unhealthy side of obsessive compulsive, but you generally like to know which tunes samples what, can memorise your favourite DJ’s best playlists, absolutely love tune ids, and can usually recognise a song in a club before anyone else, even if it is still just from the kick and hi hat which is barely mixed in. By and large, this makes you think you seem uber-cool when you state with authority, ‘I bet he’ll play so an so next’. Of course, in retrospect, you’re probably not.
After going to see District 9, a superb piece of dystopian political commentary, I checked out the short on which it was based, Alive In Joburg. About halfway though my ears jumped to attention, and within an instant I’d got the sample, Matt Darey’s Possessed. Much to the detriment of the producers, this was not acknowledged in the credits. Once again, Matt Darey retains the award for most under rated and ignored producers in electronic music.
Possessed is awesomely energetic dark and brooding trance number. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t get picked up by all the major DJs despite its superb atmosphere. So, in lieu of any credits, I thought I’d dig out the vinyl and share it here. Shame my pressing sounds like it’s been mastered in a wheelie bin though.
This is one of those ‘they don’t make ‘em like they used to’ tunes, sounding and feeling distinctly of its age. This takes you back to halcyon 1997-1999 period when the commercial trance sound was slowly evolving, but before its noticeably overbearing format had been settled upon. It’s subtle, understated and repetitive; traits which were distinctly British in comparison to the dominance of the Dutch super-saw anthem bashers. Sadly, this is a very underappreciated and overlooked record, one which frequently gets neglected in retrospective discussions. I can’t decide if this is good or bad. It’s a tune which deserves recognition, but also all the more special because it doesn’t have that recognition.
Hand's Burn - Good Shot [Spot On : SPOT 23] (1999)
In conversation trance as become a dirty word. I could never imagine saying to anyone that I liked, or listened to ‘trance music’. This may seem somewhat pretentious position to take. Perhaps these are the deluded ramblings of a disillusioned elitist. But, the vast majority of music going under the name of trance has no connection to what I feel trance should sound like. If I say trance, people will think something completely different to that which I mean. This isn’t a problem confined to this genre, say you like techno to someone and the first thing they think of is 2 Unlimited. Add a prefix of Detroit or Looped and they look at you blankly wondering which planet you come from. This is somewhat understandable since they are specialist genres thus providing a central reason why I say I like ‘electronic’ music in favour of stating a particular genre.
However, back to the genre in question. I in no way wish this to collapse into a diatribe about how good trance was back between 1998-2001. That has been argued a million times over, and no doubt will be again in the future. And, irrespective of the merits or de-merits of that claim, the debate misses a key fundamental. Instead, I wish this to read as a general comment over general trends in trance production. Simply put, the majority of trance misses the true essence of what trance music should be. We are constantly subjected to over produced, euphoric nonsense: music which is supposed to be emotional, which is supposed to make you happy, which is supposed to be uplifting. That is not trance.
Let me use Cassidy’s Implode as a paradigm case of what is right with this genre. Trance music should be hypnotic, futuristic, and introspective. Music which has the ability to make you close you eyes on the dance floor and draw you into you own small universe, separate from the existence of others. A place where only you can go. It is to the detriment of music, and trance as a genre, that tracks like Implode are in the minority.
In the annuls of music history, the name of Matt Darey is unquestionably one of the most underrated ever to be associated with the genre of trance. He doesn’t headline major festivals, nor get booked for multi-arena nights. Instead he’s left to consistently produce to the highest calibre, slog away with his own syndicated radio podcast, run his own record label and promote his own club night while the ‘A list’ DJs snap up the peak time slots, and Mr. Darey is stuck with an mired reputation caused by the inclusion of his more accessible productions on old commercial trance mix cds. The man’s never even had an essential mix, yet they offer them out to just about anyone these days. Such is the ‘state’ of trance.
Mr. Darey’s remix of Technique - Sun Is Shining is a precise and exact simile of his career. An absolutely blinding production, but one which people never mention when reminiscing over that ‘golden age’ of trance: 1999. The concept is simple, an unpretentious lead against an atmospheric backdrop. However, it’s the bass line which really makes this track stand out. The programming on the simple square wave patch hypnotically runs through its rhythm before unrepentantly filling up the room in its entirety as the change in notation hits during the peak of the track. It’s sudden, out of nowhere, and leaves you wondering just where the hell did that come from?
Technique - Sun Is Shining (Mash Up Matt Remix) [Creation : CRE 306T] (1999)
Welcome to my blog; a exploration of thought about the process of collecting records and playing them to other people.
I've been DJing for almost ten years now. In that time I've amassed lots of records. I think they are all very good. I used to pretend to be a masters student, then I though I could be an officer in Her Majesty's Army. Now I'm not sure of much any more.
If you're curious about what Die Mensch-Machine is all about, why not start with the first post?