Jeff Mills

Thoughts on seeing a hero for the first time in over a decade

As an English teacher (part of the reason why I’ve not written anything in over six weeks is due to the deluge of work that is the start of a new academic year - apologies), I’m intrigued by the word “moment”. Unusually, we tend to use it in passing, mostly as a prepositional phrase of time - e.g “I’ll be with you in a moment”. It seems to be something momentary, signifying something of some insignificance due to its transitional nature. However, we also get the adjective “momentous”, which has an antithetical aspect to it, as it carries a lexical meaning of great power and significance. Many European football managers, not least Fabio Capello (who struggled with the language but would always use the phrase “in this moment”), Jurgen Klopp and Pep Guardiola, freely talk about moments, steeped in the knowledge that these small phases of time can change games, careers and lives.

Listening back to the seminal Jeff Mills Live at the Liquid Rooms mix, there are several moments which I would argue redefined Techno wholeheartedly. The first is within 45 seconds or so of the mix starting, when Mills’ DJ style was unleashed on a mostly unsuspecting audience (for those who had not witnessed him play). The segment of Beltram’s “The Start it Up”, Surgeon’s “Magnese” and Mills’s own “Steps to Enchantment” where several copies of each record seem to be in action over the course of 90 seconds or so, brought a new paradigm of what Techno could be. This was something that was, for many of us at the time, otherworldly. The other, near the end of the mix, where Dan Morgan’s “Flowerchild” emerges, aided by a breathtaking backspin and the relentless, coruscating power of some hi-hats immediately after, transformed the possibilities of Techno. Many DJs over the last two decades or more have built, I would argue, their entire style on these pioneering moments by Mills. I cannot find it online, but an article in Overload magazine by Jon Osselaer many years ago argued, with some clarity if I remember, that Jeff Mills “killed” Techno, in that the singularity of his DJing style was so overpowering that it left no real room for manoeuvre for any other DJ style; you either adapted or died. I have argued in other places long ago that the inevitable evolution of this was the three-deck propulsive, compressed Techno played by men in vests built for vast warehouses - there is no room for subtlety, dynamic change or narrative subversion.

Twelve years ago I saw Mills play a momentous eight hour set from start to finish. And in many ways, it persuaded me that my time in clubbing wouldn’t get any better. With parenthood around the corner, it was very likely that I would never be able to better that evening, which was remarkable in many ways - not least in being in a 200 capacity venue with superb sound and lots of fellow rave orcs who had been there from the very beginning when he started playing in London in or around 1993. So anything less than that was always going to be a difficult thing to follow, and perhaps, just perhaps I shouldn’t have entertained another night.

Still, it’s Jeff. There is always headroom for him to surprise or beguile you even if he has ploughing this furrow for nearly four decades. Frankly, I am not interested in his quasi-jazz projects and find no attraction in them - they are Barbicanised for want of a better phrase, a neologism to suggest how venues with intellectual pretensions can try to elevate very ordinary sounding music to something approaching profundity and generally failing. That’s another topic entirely, and one I could devote much column space to, but, in general, I am very specific in my approach to this sort of thing; it’s either a grimy warehouse and near pitch-black lighting or I’m not going at all. The memory of so many great nights at Steve Bicknell’s Lost nights has shaped my aesthetics on these things so sharply that it’s hard to imagine this sort of experience in any other way. So when cosmic alignments happened (i.e the Friday night of a half-term when I’ve got a week to recover and parenting duties are not as full-on as they have been in the past), there I found myself in the company of a few other die-hards waiting again for "Uncle” Jeff to grace the stage.

When I last saw him in 2012, he was in a great moment. I have written previously elsewhere on the evolution of his DJ style, which seemed to reach a peak again around this period of time. Since the advent of his style in the mid-nineties, it could be argued that some of his competitors in the genre had refined what he did, generally being more precise, more fluid and, arguably, a little more pragmatic. If you wanted three-deck chunky bangers with backspins, neatly co-ordinated and generally quite consistent in application and delivery , which many UR-t-shirted men clearly wanted, then many other DJs could do exactly the same and maybe even better at times. Go back and listen to any number of Jeff Mills sets on YouTube from the nineties and I would argue that there’s an energy to them that is unparalleled, but the delivery when we listen back is perhaps lacking when we approach them from a casual listening perspective. Our heads were so shaken by him back then that we expect perhaps a great deal more from him than any other DJ. Certainly, during the 00’s (sorry but I despite noughties), he was in a transitional phase for some time - I have a strong memory of a 2005 Lost when he had clearly “lost” the crowd and, seeing him afterwards, he thought it was his “worst set” - but by 2011 or 2012, the truly celestial Techno he was pumping out every month was, in my opinion, the equal of his best records; he had entered a production phase that was, at least to me, producing what he imagined Techno to be - a journey into some unknown space.

I’ve not been in a club for at least five years and, certainly, not with any regularity for a decade. And “Uncle” Jeff brings out people who are die-hards. Faces I did not know personally but recognised from dancefloors of yore, lined, ageing, hair now grey, but still eager, because, well, it’s Jeff. There are very few in Techno with such a magnetic pull as him whatever the occasion. Two hours only this time, which was to be expected and in many ways, he was in another transitional phase. It was enjoyable to listen to at times, but there wasn’t the propulsive and chaotic energy of times past if I’m honest, which is perhaps an unfair criticism. His incorporation of his 909 work seemed more like a tool to help phases of his set rather than being the totemic procession it used to be (I’m always reminded of Spinal Tap’s Stonehenge whenever he gets on the 909 for some reason), but I’m not sure if it was particularly enjoyable this time around. However, criticisms and arms-folded-impress-me-standing-at-the-back-of-the-room negativity aside, there was something singular about it; some liquid-sounding house tempo records, a sense of the old Chicago rhythms percolating around, and little dwelling on the past - I probably recognised, apart from his own productions, around two records. It was all over by four, when, predictably, most of the dancefloor disappeared and the energy of the night evaporated there and then. If I’m honest, the night wasn’t a surprise in terms of expectations, but on returning through the Gotham-like streets of East London on the way home, I was still grateful in a way for those many moments I had with him all those years ago, which are burned into my brain in a way that very few other musical acts can match. He may not be the kinetic force he was in his sixties, but there’s still a tremendous vision and craft there that we should all cherish. Long live Jeff.