“We don’t write music, we make it.”
As befits someone who has never been shy of proffering an opinion or three, Karl (Regis) O’Connor has some thoughts about the state of today’s electronic music scene. Particularly when it comes to the overly commercial attitudes associated with what passes for most of modern-day dance music. “If you make something, it’s your dinner date with eternity,” he rails when discussing Sandwell District’s new album, End Beginnings. “That’s what you should be doing, you’re making a record. It’s not about making a track to fulfil something. No, that’s the difference between people who are in it for the music and the art and those who are just in it for the sesh.”
Make no mistake, Sandwell District, the shadowy techno collective, of which O’Connor is the lynchpin alongside Dave (Function) Sumner, have always been about the art. If they hadn’t parted in such bitter circumstances, one would describe End Beginnings as a hotly-anticipated comeback. But, quite simply, no-one ever expected their return. “I was always really averse to it,” he reflects. “It was always a very fractious relationship between me and Dave in particular. It was this rock’n’roll escapade, it wasn’t really dance music. Everyone left on bad terms, everyone walked out. I was left on the decks at Fabric. Dave didn’t turn up and that was that. There was all this hyperdrama nonsense. We didn’t speak for 10 years.”
They are, then, the real deal. In truth, they always were. They were the genuine article back in the early-00s, when Regis and his long-time confidant Peter (Female) Sutton established the artistic co-operative, first as an offshoot label to O’Connor’s influential Downwards imprint to release sonic missives by themselves, and then Function and Juan (Silent Servant) Mendez among others.
Unsurprisingly, Sandwell District remain true originals today. Over a decade since their last acrimonious blow out – Sumner not turning up to DJ alongside O’Connor at Fabric might have been the final straw, but in reality, it was death by a thousand cuts – Sandwell District are back. Older? Certainly. Wiser? Arguably. Still outspoken?Absolutely.
“To get beyond the spectacle you remain silent,” O’Connor avows. “You do nothing. And that’s effectively what we did. We didn’t release records. You’ve got to get beyond the spectacle, once you get dragged down into the whole messy soup…”
The result is End Beginnings, a majestic coming together of cinematic techno and mind-bending dancefloor dynamism; an album that marries Drexciya’s idea of techno being an act of seditionary innovation to a sense of unbridled fun, an imperative that means an awful lot to O’Connor. “Having a good time is pretty much why you get into it in the first place,” he notes wisely. “And it is fun. I think we feel a lot more fortunate now, especially with what happened with Juan. We’re grateful.”
End Beginnings then is also a moving requiem to a fallen soldier – Juan Mendez. At the beginning of 2024, Mendez tragically died just as things were moving in the right direction for the collective. Mendez’s stunning artwork and visuals were always a central pillar of Sandwell District; indeed, he was working on a piece of art entitled ‘End Beginnings’ that was mooted to be the album cover. That work was never finished, but O’Connor and Sumner took the title to honour their friend’s contribution. It remains a fitting tribute to the stop-start nature of this rebel alliance.
“We were a real gang,” O’Connor reminisces. “We used to come into town, tear it up and go home. We got banned from about three airlines for fighting with each other. We used to turn up at the airport, get hammered and it would go downhill from there.” No wonder they were described as techno’s answer to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young by online music organ, The Quietus. O’Connor laughs when that interpretation is put to him. “That’s brilliant,” he says. “It’s probably very accurate. As long as I can be Nash.”
Back in the early 2000s, this gang, fuelled by the spirit of unfettered collaboration had become a transatlantic clandestine super group comprised of Regis, Function, Silent Servant and Female centred around the techno mecca of Berlin and culminating in the release of 2010’s revered Feed-Forward album. The album sold out immediately (as did 2023’s long awaited box set reissue), but by then, the tumultuous alliance had come apart at the seams. The kinetic energy at the heart of the Sandwell District project couldn’t hold. Theirs was no post-acid house loved-up dynamic – this was pure, reckless rock’n’roll abandon. Something was bound to give.
The time to remain silent is now over. The catalyst for their reunion might come as a shock to some, mind. “I struck up a really close friendship with Mark Lanegan before he died,” explains O’Connor. “Which was weird. Mark Lanegan, king of grunge, friend of Kurt Cobain. He told me to keep going, to revisit Sandwell District.”
Even though O’Connor and Sumner had been blood brothers – metaphorically and literally at times – Karl couldn’t envisage working with his old sparring partner again; couldn’t see past the drama that had come to define their relationship. Lanegan had other ideas. “He said ‘it’s more than the sum of its parts and it’s important’. I began to think maybe it was a good idea.”
He continues: “The last time I saw Lanegan was at the Roundhouse. As I was going into the dressing room to meet him John Paul Jones from Zeppelin was coming out the other way. I remember thinking this is certainly something. I knew then it was something special and I had to listen to him because it’s good to listen to people and get over yourself sometimes. That’s what it was – getting over yourself.”
Even then it took time for relations to thaw. Mendez was the conduit between the friends-turned-adversaries. After much umming and ahhing on both sides a plan was set in motion to re-release the collective’s Feed-Forward album. The limited nature of its initial release, the mythology that had built up around it in the intervening years and its importance and influence upon everyone from Mute’s Daniel Miller to techno poster boy Daniel Avery meant their reformation was no exercise in nostalgia.
“You have to decentralise the ego for the good of the project,” O’Connor says. “And then it’s about reframing it in some way. You are going back to rebuild something, but the way things are now and people’s attention spans are so short in general, that it’s almost like it’s new again.”
The new album itself has its roots in underground techno - long-time connoisseurs will recognise Motor City impulses and 80s European industrial electro, while recent disciples will appreciate the post-Berghain rush – but it’s also a considered, dare-you-say, mature home listening experience. It verges from the ethereal psychedelia of ‘Citrinitas Acid’ to the hypnotic tribal drums of ‘Dreaming’, by way of the propulsive futurism of ‘Hidden’ and the widescreen electronica of ‘Least Travelled’.
With the lessons of the past learned, Karl and Dave worked on the album remotely – in London and Berlin respectively. A buffer was also put in place in the shape of Simon Shreeve, formerly of the dubstep outfit Kryptic Minds. When the final hurdle just couldn’t be surpassed and before stasis set in, mixing was handed over to Mika Hallbäck (Rivet). Seth Horvitz (Rrose) and Sarah Kranz (Sarah Wreath) were also enlisted to add to the collaborative spirit the collective has always benefited from.
Welcome back, Sandwell District, we have missed you. Your time is now…
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