Editor's Idea: December 1996
ISSUE 154, December 1996
Editor: Tony Herrington
Frankly, we are shocked. When The Wire became the first UK magazine to run a major feature (a cover feature, even) on the New York mixologist and Illbient prosletyte DJ Spooky back in August 1995, little did we suspect it would help precipitate an outbreak of total war.
Even now Spooky is something of a shadowy figure as far as the UK music press is concerned, but back in August of last year he was all but unknown. We had heard of him via heated rumours drifting across the Atlantic: of a young, self-styled, black bohemian DJ-cum-low-end-theorist, an apparent cross between Greg Tate, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Mark The 45 King, who was talking up the new sciences of sampladelia and remixology like a Gilles Deleuze of the decks. We only had a vague notion of what Spooky's music actually sounded like, but that didn't seem to matter. His PoMo patter was attempting to extend the debate surrounding some of the most galvanizing music of the moment, from abstract beat collage to breakbeat science. Basically, the DJ talked a good game. That seemed reason enough to stick him on the cover.
Now it's all got ridiculously out of hand.
Spooky not being one to hide his might under a bushel, we knew that initial interview would provoke as many people as it would entertain, and sure enough, opinions duly came flying into The Wire office, mostly from America, and mostly claiming that we had "given too much respect" to Spooky by putting him on the cover.
Those early exchanges of fire officially escalated into full scale war in the first weeks of October 1996, with the columns and letters pages of The New York Press serving as the battleground. First, NY Press contributor Adam Heimlich's did a no-holds-barred hatchet job on Spooky in his 'Weather Vane' column. The flavour of Heimlich's critique can be gauged by the illustration that accompanied it, a caricature of Spooky captioned: 'DJ Stoopit'. Spooky duly fired back a wounded, bitter reply, accusing Heimlich, among other things of being a racist. Then, in the following issues' letters pages, all hell broke loose as NY Press readers responded to Spooky's attack on their man, laying into the DJ like they were honour-roll members of the NYPD's tactical assault squad: "The only problem with Heimlich's piece was that it didn't go far enough into how foul the little fucker - and all he represents - really is." "Spooky, I have been waiting for a long time to say this, you're full of shit." "[Spooky] take your fucking holier-than-thou-'racist'-multiculturalism and shove it way up your own ass." "[Spooky] you lame-assed, self-absorbed no talent." "Mr Multiculti Dialogue Spooky, you dumb fuck." One reader even alluded to 'promotion' of Spooky by The Wire and others: "That group of Eurotrash you've got following around with you obviously knows nothing about musical experimentation." Phew. Only in America.
In the midst of a blitzkrieg the circumstances that caused war to break out in the first place are usually forgotten. However, at least one of the issues at stake here is a familiar one.
Putting aside the fact that Heimlich's article seemed to be based on some very shaky knowledge of the kind of musical initiatives which Spooky connects with (from the Ambient chill-out room through plunderphonics to block-party mixology), what really seemed to get on his nerves, not to mention those of the NY Press's letter page assassins, was the fact that Spooky had the temerity to talk big about such 'lowly' forms of endeavour as HipHop, Techno and drum 'n' bass. American writers such as Tricia Rose helped pioneer 'serious' exploration of the wild fringes and dark recesses of US pop culture, but as in the UK, America's pathologically cynical music media will still only countenance Spooky's kind of high falutin' talk when it is applied to the towering icons of international pop. If you want to deconstruct the world through the distorting lens of Courtney Love's sex life, well all right. But spinning dense hypothesis out from the virtual realms of hard disc editing systems? Forget it.
All of this seems particularly pertinent as this month's cover story focuses on a number of Spooky's contemporaries in New York's digital underground. This is a diverse group of musicians, ranging from the dub refuseniks of the Wordsound label to Cultural Alchemy's hypertheorists. What connects them, apart from the fact that they are producing some of the best music around right now, is their refusal to shut up and let the music speak for itself. We look forward to reading The New York Press's response to this new burst of noisy activity, taking place right in its own back yard, in about 18 months' time.
Editor: Tony Herrington
Frankly, we are shocked. When The Wire became the first UK magazine to run a major feature (a cover feature, even) on the New York mixologist and Illbient prosletyte DJ Spooky back in August 1995, little did we suspect it would help precipitate an outbreak of total war.
Even now Spooky is something of a shadowy figure as far as the UK music press is concerned, but back in August of last year he was all but unknown. We had heard of him via heated rumours drifting across the Atlantic: of a young, self-styled, black bohemian DJ-cum-low-end-theorist, an apparent cross between Greg Tate, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Mark The 45 King, who was talking up the new sciences of sampladelia and remixology like a Gilles Deleuze of the decks. We only had a vague notion of what Spooky's music actually sounded like, but that didn't seem to matter. His PoMo patter was attempting to extend the debate surrounding some of the most galvanizing music of the moment, from abstract beat collage to breakbeat science. Basically, the DJ talked a good game. That seemed reason enough to stick him on the cover.
Now it's all got ridiculously out of hand.
Spooky not being one to hide his might under a bushel, we knew that initial interview would provoke as many people as it would entertain, and sure enough, opinions duly came flying into The Wire office, mostly from America, and mostly claiming that we had "given too much respect" to Spooky by putting him on the cover.
Those early exchanges of fire officially escalated into full scale war in the first weeks of October 1996, with the columns and letters pages of The New York Press serving as the battleground. First, NY Press contributor Adam Heimlich's did a no-holds-barred hatchet job on Spooky in his 'Weather Vane' column. The flavour of Heimlich's critique can be gauged by the illustration that accompanied it, a caricature of Spooky captioned: 'DJ Stoopit'. Spooky duly fired back a wounded, bitter reply, accusing Heimlich, among other things of being a racist. Then, in the following issues' letters pages, all hell broke loose as NY Press readers responded to Spooky's attack on their man, laying into the DJ like they were honour-roll members of the NYPD's tactical assault squad: "The only problem with Heimlich's piece was that it didn't go far enough into how foul the little fucker - and all he represents - really is." "Spooky, I have been waiting for a long time to say this, you're full of shit." "[Spooky] take your fucking holier-than-thou-'racist'-multiculturalism and shove it way up your own ass." "[Spooky] you lame-assed, self-absorbed no talent." "Mr Multiculti Dialogue Spooky, you dumb fuck." One reader even alluded to 'promotion' of Spooky by The Wire and others: "That group of Eurotrash you've got following around with you obviously knows nothing about musical experimentation." Phew. Only in America.
In the midst of a blitzkrieg the circumstances that caused war to break out in the first place are usually forgotten. However, at least one of the issues at stake here is a familiar one.
Putting aside the fact that Heimlich's article seemed to be based on some very shaky knowledge of the kind of musical initiatives which Spooky connects with (from the Ambient chill-out room through plunderphonics to block-party mixology), what really seemed to get on his nerves, not to mention those of the NY Press's letter page assassins, was the fact that Spooky had the temerity to talk big about such 'lowly' forms of endeavour as HipHop, Techno and drum 'n' bass. American writers such as Tricia Rose helped pioneer 'serious' exploration of the wild fringes and dark recesses of US pop culture, but as in the UK, America's pathologically cynical music media will still only countenance Spooky's kind of high falutin' talk when it is applied to the towering icons of international pop. If you want to deconstruct the world through the distorting lens of Courtney Love's sex life, well all right. But spinning dense hypothesis out from the virtual realms of hard disc editing systems? Forget it.
All of this seems particularly pertinent as this month's cover story focuses on a number of Spooky's contemporaries in New York's digital underground. This is a diverse group of musicians, ranging from the dub refuseniks of the Wordsound label to Cultural Alchemy's hypertheorists. What connects them, apart from the fact that they are producing some of the best music around right now, is their refusal to shut up and let the music speak for itself. We look forward to reading The New York Press's response to this new burst of noisy activity, taking place right in its own back yard, in about 18 months' time.