I’m what most people would more than likely call a “techno nerd”. For instance, I’ve got every Warp release, from the first Forgemasters 12″ up through the mid-2000s. I have all the Global Communication records, everything on General Production Recordings, all the Rephlex shit, blah blah blah, etc etc etc. And when I like a label or artist, I make sure I own everything they do. For instance, I possess every fucking track, production, remix, and fart that Andrew Weatherall has ever released. He is the main reason I am here right now, writing about my intentions, and wondering if I’m at a point where I should discuss my own little record store that hides away in a small town storage unit, tucked away on a quiet street in America. When Weatherall died, it really devastated me. His death slammed into me harder than any other artist’s passing in my life. Prince dying was tough for me, but nowhere near in the same way Weatherall has affected my being.
I first discovered Lord Sabre in 1990, at a Depeche Mode concert, where his remix of Happy Mondays’ “Hallelujah” was pumping out of the speakers. Everyone around me was like, “what the holy fuck is this??” We all had a moment, but maybe none of them were as profoundly changed as I was. A chick standing behind me yelled into my ear who it was, but didn’t mention it was a Weatherall mix. I spent the rest of the summer tracking it down, and once I did, my future started taking shape. Each time I went to the record store it seemed like another Weatherall remix emerged. And another. Yet another. Each one better than the last. By the time his Flowered Up remixes appeared I was in full-on obsession mode. From that moment forth, it made imminent sense to forge punk with dance, and piss on anyone who said you couldn’t. Music became about the energy, the vibes. My punk-y background could mingle with rave culture, and anyone who didn’t get it was a square. I kinda still feel that way. Weatherall solidified that. My entire record collection is a homage to an idea Weatherall introduced me to. Once I read interviews with him, and experienced his sense of humor, I learned that music fell into two distinct genres: good or bad. Anything else was just bullshit talk that meant nothing. The guy meant a lot to me, I’ll just put it that way. He’s the ultimate inspiration to me, even in his untimely death.
Even though I enjoy dissecting and pontificating art and human behavior, I’m going to try and keep my rambling as to-the-point as possible. I’ll probably fail, and you should call me on it in the comments. Please let me know what you think!
Occasional Feel Good 