By Emma Silvers
By Gary Moskowitz
By Alee Karim
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
By Derek Opperman
By Emma Silvers
By Alee Karim
Eminem has said a lot of asinine things over the years, but when he carped, "Nobody listens to techno," he had a point. The style may have been born in Detroit, but as any number of DJs, producers, promoters, and isolated fans can attest, the domestic electronic music scene – itself lagging behind industry-dominating hip hop and a revitalized rock movement – has largely written techno out of the picture in favor of genres like house and trance.
But while the form has found itself ridiculed (or simply forgotten) at home, Michael Mayer and Kompakt, the Cologne-based label that he runs alongside Wolfgang Voigt and Jürgen Paape, paint a different picture of techno. Kompakt's modus operandi, in contrast to the genre's stereotypical bombast, incorporates hushed romanticism, ominous atmospherics, and unabashed pop indulgences. Now, Mayer is embarking on his first tour of the United States, accompanied by longtime Kompakt artist Reinhard Voigt, giving American audiences – especially those of us here in S.F. who remember the brief glory days of the late '90s, when an ambitious techno underground offered an alternative to the West Coast's ubiquitous funky house – a chance to catch up on the extraordinary state of the art of Cologne techno, which in the past half-decade has proved itself to be one of the most surprising, versatile, and sophisticated movements in electronic music.
Kompakt was born in 1998 as an attempt to streamline a multiplying set of Cologne electronic music projects. Led by Wolfgang Voigt, owner of the city's Delirium record store, a tiny coterie of DJs and producers had come up with a dazzling range of projects, labels, and aliases whose scope belied the crew's small size. Mayer fell in by virtue of being the shop's "first customer and harshest critic," as he puts it, passionately arguing the merits of every record to hit the shelves. Today, Mayer co-directs the label's A&R, plays a large role in its distribution operation, and serves as the company's most visible spokesperson.
Friday, Nov. 28, at 10 p.m.
Tickets are $10
As run by Voigt, Paape, and Mayer, Kompakt picked up where Profan, its best-known predecessor, had left off, and quickly became the standard-bearer for minimal techno, arranging the genre's clicks and thumps and blushing chords in a kind of infinitely malleable set of themes and variations that emphasized floating ambience and delicate tone color. Many people think that techno's 4/4 form is its Achilles' heel, but Kompakt dedicated itself to exploring every nook and cranny of the beat through the use of grinding polyrhythms and offhand syncopations.
Yet listeners who haven't checked in with the label since its first few dozen releases might be surprised at how diverse its output has become. Despite the ostensible intention to consolidate its array of projects, Kompakt now boasts a family of themed sublabels including Speicher (anthemic techno and swinging schaffel, or "shuffle" tracks riddled with triplets), Auftreib (hard-boiled, peak-hour tunes), and Kompakt Pop, which offers vocal tunes designed for radio play along with more floor-oriented remixes.
Kompakt's expansion into new sounds, in fact, was a reaction in part to the widespread fetishism of German minimalism. "We never saw the necessity to play only minimal techno all night long," protests Mayer, citing parties so fixated upon skeletal bleeps that they never reached a good rave's essential peak. "Minimal techno is quite limited in its emotional content. So our aim was to stretch the musical spectrum in order to keep things as fresh as possible."
Mayer's mixes demonstrate how broad the definition of techno can be. His contribution to London club Fabric's mix CD series, Fabric 13: Michael Mayer, runs from minimally melodic tracks graced with a sparkling, insistent high-hat to chugging electro-polka to slow-mo tunes that reference the Tom Tom Club and Joy Division. Mayer even transitions from a strings-and-glitch grinder into Westbam and Nena's "Oldschool, Baby" – a shameless piano house tune that was an enormous commercial club hit in Germany. In Mayer's hands, the song is redeemed: Fusing it with darker, more difficult sounds, he somehow manages to make its populism appeal even to the furrowed-brow elitists who normally have nothing to do with dance pop, revealing a truly universalist philosophy. "When we quote pop music, it's serious, not ironic," affirms Mayer. "We still stand behind our history. We don't think it's wrong if we used to listen to Pet Shop Boys. We think it's great music, so there's no reason to transform it to the club universe in an ironic way."
Across Europe, Mayer is an underground superstar, and Kompakt is arguably Germany's most important techno label. (The commercial rave DJ Timo Maas tapped three Kompakt tracks for his most recent mix CD.) But even in a city as cosmopolitan as San Francisco, Mayer and his label have almost no visibility. At Tweekin', the Lower Haight store that specializes in electronic dance music, it's possible to encounter sales associates who have never heard of the label. Amoeba and Aquarius carry the occasional Kompakt single or compilation, but neither restocks often enough to reflect the imprint's prolific output, which averages a new release every other week. The few club nights in San Francisco where you could reliably expect to hear Kompakt tracks – Broker/Dealer's weekly "Pop" and the minimal techno-specializing "Minimal Monday" – are now kaput.