Decks, EFX & 909 – Richie Hawtin – Minus Records – November 2nd 1999
A timeless techno mix by a master craftsman recorded during a golden age free of clicks, hype and gimmicks.
Content media calendars are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, they help fill in a lot of blanks that would otherwise require far more creativity and consideration than your average social media manager can muster.
On the other hand, they’ve also shaped expectations for those of us in the digital publishing sphere to publish the exact same content on the same topics, all year, every year.
And even though we’re all sick of seeing the same shit come around, woe betide anyone who fails to acknowledge one of our new pointless days by failing to post something.
Ok, so I was too busy for 808 Day and had forgotten it’s Alzheimer’s month. Plus I definitely missed the boat on International Calzoni Day and feel debilitating waves of shame over missing Multicoloured Cable Tie Appreciation Week but fuck it if I’m not going it miss out on posting something today, for “909 Day”, which is a thing now apparently so we must all post about it or risk the ire of twitter twats the world over.
That’s why I decided to write about the first 909-related thing that came to mind, and that’s just because it had the phrase “909” in it. Luckily it also happens to be a carefully wrapped, bulging gym bag stuffed with of pure, uncut raw 90s techno perfection from one of the biggest names in the game.
Ronseal Ritchie
Decks, EFX and 909 is Richie Hawtin at his most Ronseal varnish.
The album delivers 100% on its premise, no more, no less – there are decks, there are effects and, in keeping with today’s theme, there’s a Roland TR-909 drum machine.
In lesser hands, the result would be a lot messier, but in Ritchie’s hands the results are as pristine and clinical as you might expect, but it’s analogue science, not digital.
There’s a lot of skills on display here but little to no showmanship, instead just a relentless mix of fast cuts with heavy use of loops and delays, subtle drum pattern layers and careful platter nudges to keep the whole thing in time.
When you hear the tracks in isolation you can get a better appreciation for what’s happening in the mix.
It’s not seamless, nor should it be. This is techno as it’s meant to be, a man and his reflexes locked in a high-tempo struggle to tame the wild machines.
Not long after this, though, Richie took a different direction. I guess it started with Final Scratch (who remembers that?) which in turn led to his minimal bollocks phase and a super-granular approach to digital DJing which, to me, lacked the rawness I loved so much during his earlier career.
Then came Ritchie’s sake-shillin’ sellout-wears-Prada phase and I really thought we’d lost him forever, but catch him at a festival lately and you soon realise the man can still deliver the goods.
Put it all together and Hawtin’s career is a perfect example of just how much techno has changed since the 90s, from underground phenomenon championed by oddballs to just another obnoxious big business backed by hedge fund wankers.
This album’s a perfect reminder of how good we had it, before digital, before social, before platforms and streaming stats and engagement rates.
Decks EFX & 909 is a no-frills machine funk sandwich filled with blistering percussive cuts wrapped between two slices of dub techno. It curves up, it peaks and then it subsides once more, always strident yet never overwhelming.
It’s gritty, yet clean, fast and slippery, but not banging, it’s minimal but super funky, the very essence of the type of techno that I love.
It’s also got Surgeon, Jeff Mills, Ben Sims and Bruce Campbell for that matter (always award extra points for an Evil Dead sample) what’s not to love?
And then there’s that Nitzer Ebb bit right in the middle. That’s the bit most people remember for sure because it comes out of nowhere but works so well.
It’s also the exact point where the mix peaks, before it begins to drop altitude once more, eventually settling on some German dub techno taking it right down to a slow skanking finish – brilliant.
The 90s are responsible for a lot of terrible mix albums and the nowsies is responsible for an inordinate amount of uninspired, mass-produced digital content that’s trying to market itself as techno, and sometimes succeeds in doing so because the masses don’t know any better.
But get a good 90s mix like this one and the difference is plain to see.
So if you want to celebrate 909 Day and you’re heading out this Saturday, throw this mix on in the background while you’re getting ready and it won’t be long before you find yourself bopping along. It’s minimal, it’s cerebral but, unlike so much techno these days, it’ll also make you shake your ass.