Submitted by Matthew Crick

Every month, positioned around a table wearing only our serious faces, we take a look at the record labels that are hotter than a Burning Man bicycle seat; choose one, and then put it on our approving pedestal. Simple you say? No, not really…

Even If Sean Brosnan weren’t a smoker, he’d be easily forgiven for lighting a fine cigar and inhaling large, celebratory breaths as he reflected on a busy but victorious past few months for Needwant. Admittedly, the label chief would probably quickly extinguish any lavish praise aimed at himself and instead redirect it at the artists and events he continuously represents.

Rewind three or so years and Needwant started life as a humble fanzine, built on the unwavering philosophy of bringing house music and art together. This vision was brought to life with the occasional, disheveled party popping up in London, swiftly amassing a dedicated following, a large number of which will be making an appearance at this month’s warehouse shindig no doubt.

However, it is the imprint’s present form of delivering exceptional music from some of the industry’s finest that has captured our immediate attention. With a conveyor belt of mouthwatering releases from Maxxi Soundsystem, Bonar Bradberry, The Mekanism and Mario Basanov (not forgetting the fifth installment of the Future Disco series), who are all flying high in their own right, the bar has evidently been raised to a lofty level – and one that has defined Needwant as one of the most influential record labels around today.

Our current Needwant favourite is Mario Basanov’s ‘We Are Child Of Love’

[Listen here]

Interview by Courtney Nichols

Jacques Renault is a rare breed of musician: not only is he a fan’s artist, but he also is an artist’s artist. From the likes of Dimitri From Paris (for Dimitri no disco track is too dated to re-master), to DFA personalities who have masterfully blended the worlds of contemporary music and pop culture, Jacques Renualt’s fan base is an every-growing pack of A-listers to Z-listers, smooth cats to stray cats, bulky jocks to men in frocks.

Based in NYC, Jacques Renault’s eminent rise to nu disco fame resulted from a post-punk upbringing in Washington DC. In 1997 he relocated to the Chicago to continue viola education. The viola soon transformed into house music, and he scored a residency at Smart Bar and became a buyer at the legendary Gramaphone Records. Like 70’s icons that predated Renault, The Big Apple demanded his presence. Manhattan stints at Happy Endings, APT, Tribeca Grand and 205 Club, rapidly became global stints at Tokyo’s Womb, Rio’s D-edge and London’s Fabric and Plastic People. Record labels went mad for his pure sound and stoic demeanor. DFA, Chinatown, Throne of Blood, Italians Do It Better (among others) commissioned remix after remix, track after track.

Despite worldwide acclaim, Jacques Renault remains refreshingly local, consistently playing to his NYC crowd through his Let’s Play House idiom with close friend, Nik Mercer. Jacques has also launched his own label, On The Prowl, which has featured original material and remix work from Azari & III, Tensnake, Coyote, and sloughs of various nu disco staples. Like The Twin Peaks character of the same name, Jacques Renault is a pimp dealing out the latest and greatest in dance, electronic and the like. His drug is disco, and everyone is getting addicted.

The House Of Disco: How have you seen the disco / dance scene differ between the US and Europe?

Jacques Renault: It’s pretty tough to say; we influence each other all over the world. Taking a bit from here and there creates our sound.

That being said, do you also see a difference between playing the East and West Coast?

A bit, but each DJ has their own take and push. As a whole, each region will have a statement to make. Italy over the years, like NYC or Berlin for example, has been creating big scenes that people notice all over the world. It has something to do with who you surround yourself with and where people gather, of course.

Obviously much of your notoriety has been the result of parties you have either hosted or played at. Do you find that community, either on or off the dance floor, is an integral part of the nu disco scene?

Absolutely. I think a lot of the friends I have made over the years have built this into a global music scene. The vibe in NYC is a great example of how all of our friends are going to different parties, playing each others events, promoting things maybe unknowingly just by their attention to what is happening on the Internet.

On The Prowl is decidedly more of a curatorial project rather than a straightforward record label. Discuss this recent trend of record label as curation.

I like to look at all my projects from as many angles as possible. I try my best to work with people, I find that when I get to dictate the night, the song the album or the label it is just a part of the larger picture. I enjoy working with people and creating something that isn’t quite out there. That’s how new things are obviously born, but opening yourself to more ideas to what already exists will push yourself to keep going forward. That’s how I’ve been exposed to so many artists from around the world. We’ve all heard this 4/4 beat, how do we add to what will forever exist?

In that same vein, have you noticed a cultural shift from parties as random acts and random audiences toward parties as curated events?

It’s easy to say that people have been drawn to a particular style or look of music and where it is located. The not-so-regular-venue changes constantly these days and that these parties are what I like to go to; for example No Ordinary Monkey or A Club Called Rhonda are similar to how I curate my own Let’s Play House events. Legendary clubs in like Paradise Garage or Panorama Bar don’t really have to think about these things. I think personal style, taste and pride take direction in where we trust our music influence direction.

Through what means do you discover new acts to either sign and / or become a fan of?

That’s difficult. I miss my days of going to my favorite record stores and discovering my music on my own. Either it was from my record store friend or an attractive cover or label, I continue to look for that experience in NYC and online. I’m bad at keeping up with music blogs, but try my best to hear as much music as possible to hear what it is I think is me. I joke that I hear more bad music than good, but that’s the whole point for me. I want to hear more and more and then it will hit me. I’m they guy you have to wait for at the listening station because I’m listening to more than the limit. I try to hear the most out of everything.

What is the last live show you have seen that blew you away?

I saw Holy Ghost! last week and they sounded great. Maybe I’m being biased because I’m friends with them, but to be honest the handful times I’ve seen them they’ve just gotten better and better. It’s great to hear them.

Being classically trained in the music world — do you find yourself collaborating with artists that have a similar educational background? Do you prefer to work with artists who are analog inclined?

I’ve always been more of a “player” than a “studio guy.” I think my studio skills have gotten better over the years but I tend to collaborate with people that have a slightly different background than myself. I think it helps with new ideas and opens up sounds that I would not have considered before. You’re obsessed about different details.

Where would be the most spectacular place to overhear one of your tracks?

Anywhere on the water, beach, boat, canoe, etc.

Beside music, do you have interest in collaborating with artists of other artistic forms?

I went to art school so I’ve done a few odd things. But I joke about being a wine nerd or a foodie. I don’t know enough but I respect the people that know.

Have you ever stepped back from the music and wondered why now? Why is disco on the upswing? What is it about contemporary culture that is craving dance?

Disco was never here or there it’s always been present. People can doubt it but it’s just been in one form or another. It’s feel good music and you really can’t deny it if it’s good. I know there’s plenty of bullshit music out there, I went there and it just puts the few stand out tracks in front that you will remember for as long as you want to. People will always want to feel good, and they want the soundtrack and the memory with it.

Our friends over at Minimum Wastage have given us this exclusive interview with Flight Facilities about their most popular song and pick their brains a little. The origin of the name is particularly interesting. No Australians were harmed in the making of this Interview.

Interview by Jules Hallam.

Meet Flight Facilities. Incarnated as anonymous producers hailing from Trinidad & Tobago, the Aussie duo chopped up Holy Ghost & Cut Copy originals before realising the freakishly popular ‘Crave You‘ featuring the heartfelt lyricism of singer Giselle Rosselli. Two million Youtube hits later and Aeroplane swooped in to chaperone Crave You and Friendly Fires into a blistering dancefloor re-work.

Atricle by Juliet Shaw

“I can’t remember a time when music wasn’t a pleasure. It was something that was always there, like food.” So says Al Kent of his formative years, and it’s a sentiment that has continued throughout his life.

With current projects including a five-CD box-set compilation of rare disco tracks to be released on the BBE label in October, a second Million Dollar Orchestra album with full live orchestra in the planning stages, a remix for funk band The DT6 in collaboration with Tom Moulton soon to hit the shops, his own Million Dollar Disco nights in Glasgow and Manchester, guest DJ appearances across the world, numerous re-edits of rare disco tracks, and a sideline in writing about his heroes, one could argue that music isn’t just like food to Al, it’s more akin to breathing.

For a young boy growing up as Ewan Kelly in 1970s Glasgow (Al Kent came later, his alter ego being named after one of the rare soul records he’d bought as a boy), the mod revival that alerted him to sixties soul having been and gone, a penchant for soul and disco music could have spelled the end of credibility amongst his peers. But rather than alienate him, his growing collection of Motown earned Ewan a seal of approval.  Delving deeper into the black music he’d discovered, the strings and percussion of the disco albums he’d found brought together everything he loved about the sounds he was playing, and his obsession began.

“I didn’t suddenly hear a record and think, oh, I like disco,” he says. “There’s nothing that stands out like that, I probably heard them at the time and thought it was soul. It was only later I realised there was a disco scene, it was just that all the elements of the sounds that came together for me.”

His extensive record collection was quickly honed towards ’60s soul classics, then deeper into northern and seventies soul and disco. Before long, the young Ewan harboured a need to hear his own type of music in a wider environment and at the age of 15 he decided to stage his own night so he could be sure of hearing the music he loved instead of dancing to everyone else’s beat.

“I can’t even remember anything about what led to us staging that night,” he says. “It was just one of those things you did as a kid. At the time we were going to school discos and not hearing the music we wanted to hear. If we were lucky there might have been a bit of soul, then there’d be a punk section, a ska section, everyone getting their own fifteen minutes.”

Despite his unassuming reminiscing, there are few 15 year old boys who, on not hearing the type of music they liked, would stage their own nights. Most would throw themselves into whatever their peers were listening to. But rather than conforming to the masses, Ewan hired the local community centre and a pair of decks and put on what would be the first party of many.

“Had we any sense, we would have hired somewhere really small,” he says. “But there we were, 20 or so of us, in a big community centre with the people who ran it standing around wondering what the hell it was we were listening to.” Despite the decline of mod culture, Ewan managed to find a core group of fellow soul enthusiasts who shared his passion. Travelling to parties around Glasgow soon led to requests for him to bring his extensive record collection to provide the soundtrack.

“By that time I’d met people outside of school and out of my local area, so I had friends who were into the same sort of thing, not kids you would hang about with just because you went to school with them, but people who I’d met because they were into music,” he says. “I’d go to parties and maybe play a few records, and then from that I got a couple of gigs, but it wasn’t a regular thing – more like just turning up to a party and if I had records then I’d go up and play a few.” Pre-internet days, sharing rare tracks was a lot more difficult than simply logging onto DJ History.  But the good will out, and the music heads found each other by staging real-life forums in Glasgow city centre, word of mouth and street style being the indicators of a fellow enthusiast.

“At that time there was still a quite a big mod scene so it all revolved around fashion and music, and we would meet people because they looked cool,” says Ewan. “We’d be in Glasgow going shopping on a Saturday afternoon and would bump into people. There was a big scene of everyone from young kids to older guys who just hung about and we’d all meet each other and talk about music or whatever.” Despite his love of disco and soul, Ewan’s first residency was at the height of the acid house era, in a back-room function suite of the Videoplex Snooker Club.

“It was the late 80s or early 90s and at that time you could put a party on anywhere. I’d just started buying house records and was going to more clubs as well as northern soul things, and started buying some of the records I was hearing. Someone I know knew the guys who were promoting it and were looking for someone who had records, so they suggested me.” Coming from a background of northern soul, the acid house scene presented a welcome opportunity for Ewan to explore an extension of the music he loved.

“It was a very similar scene,” he says. “Northern soul was plainly about the music, obviously there was quite a big drugs scene as well but without the drugs the music would survive. With acid house it was more about the drugs and partying and less about the music, but the snooker place was probably the first time I saw potential for making money from playing music. Not a lot of money, but when you’re unemployed any money’s good, so I started to think more about where I could take it, but I never had a master plan or anything.”

Despite the lack of a master plan, Ewan has managed to dedicate a large proportion of his life to disco music in all its forms: listening to it, writing about it, editing it and creating it. Having a huge collection of original disco and soul when house music exploded onto the British club scene saw Ewan make a natural progression to sampling and editing, and the name Al Kent was plucked from one of his early soul records purely to avoid legal action from an obvious sample he used in one of his early productions. The majority of his work was created without the advent of modern technology which has made it a bedroom hobby to source, edit and record music. Digital software has made it easier for Ewan to make re-edits that may otherwise have proved impossible, yet despite the technology at his fingertips he’s chosen to eschew modernity and go old school with his second full-orchestra recording.

“I’ve never been into gadgets and gear,” he says. “All the stuff I’ve bought over time has been vintage equipment, but obviously I couldn’t have done the majority of the edits I’ve done without technology.”

So, casting aside the bedroom samples, Ewan decided to record with a full orchestra.

“It wasn’t a decision I made, it was just something that snowballed,” he admits. “I started off recording using loops and stuff and then got someone to play keys for me, a bit of bass. Then it kind of got out of control, I kept meeting people; it was a natural process. At some point half way through it I kind of realised what was happening.” The resulting labour of love, “Better Days” by the Million Dollar Orchestra, was hailed as a modern disco classic and drew comparisons with Salsoul and the string-laden recordings of 70s New York that inspired him. “Al Kent has managed to recreate the modern soul meets backstreet disco sound he loves with amazing authenticity,” declared house legend Joey Negro. Despite admitting the two years it took to record the first album were the most difficult of his life, he’s about to start it all again.

“It was enjoyable and stressful but the enjoyment overshadowed the stress,” he says. “It did feel all-consuming at times, and there were months on end where I didn’t do anything else, but I’m very happy with it.”

Surprisingly, Ewan has no formal music education and can’t read or write music. His perfectionism combined with his lack of written music knowledge makes for a haphazard way of recording, but that’s what makes his music stand out from the formulaic play-it-by-numbers that pervades much of the modern music scene.

“We really have no idea what’s going to happen until we get everyone in the room,” he says. “Last time, there was no structure about it: we started with a group of people I’d met and we ended up being friends, but I really had no idea what would happen until we started playing together. I can’t write music the way a traditional songwriter would write music, but I can certainly put stuff together from ideas I have, get someone else involved to play something and it evolves from there.” When he’s not playing, editing, conducting orchestras and writing about music, Ewan somehow finds the time to fund his vinyl habit as a freelance graphic designer. “I don’t think I could do the music if I didn’t,” he says. With the knowledge amassed from many years of collecting records  and the many edits he’s created, has there never been a temptation to pull together a formulaic chart-friendly track to pull in the pounds?

“I don’t think I’d be capable of making a pop record to be honest,” he says. “Making a pop record is a hard thing to do, unless that’s what you’re into. Everyone I know makes music from the heart. I really don’t think I could make a record that I couldn’t put my name to.” With a lifetime of edits, compilations, orchestral recordings and a website that reads like a disco A-Z, what comes first?

“DJing,” responds Ewan immediately.  “I enjoy everything I do, but a good DJ gig is better than anything, and not just because it means I can keep collecting records. Although I’d like to think the best is yet to come.”