![]() |
![]() |
| "I hate sitting in front of a computer and thinking about the next arrangement and fucking with the next four bars. I want to play this music live. I don't want to program. We have hands and we can use them. It makes no sense to pre-program." | |
With this statement, Ingmar Koch, a.k.a. Walker, one half of the German techno duo Air Liquide, spits in the face of modern techno's status quo of live performance and composition. Many techno artists are so concerned with reproducing their recorded sound that "live" simply means pressing play on a DAT machine. But Walker is adamant about their approach--Air Liquide performances are real time--gritty, personal, spontaneous. For Walker, music is an exercise in freedom, an experiment in sound and feeling, not a stilted, pre-programmed structure. While many techno artists endlessly endeavor to make their music faceless and anonymous, Air Liquide is as personal as you can get.
After collaborating together on releases such as the Liquide Air EP and the Nephology album, Walker and Jammin' Unit, the other half of the Air Liquide duo, have continued to sneer at convention with last year's The Increased Difficulty of Concentration, a double CD offering equal portions of sparse dancefloor acid and vague ambience, and the recently released separate albums, Black and Red, that push their unique minimalism into an even more challenging vein. "I think Black and Red are a little bit more complex. Not that easy to listen to...more styles mixed up," Walker concedes in a thick German accent. Overall, the Air Liquide sound is a glimpse into post-apocalyptic paranoia--stark, driving acid rhythms and blurry, industrial visions only crazed robots could dream.
These are minimal compositions, never consisting of more instrumentation than the hands of Walker and Jammin' Unit can actively manipulate while the recording tape rolls. The result, however, is simply-layered songs that capture the random creativity of an informal jam session and the freeform style of jazz. This active approach also applies to performing live, and has earned Air Liquide a renowned reputation for their intense live shows throughout their home city of Cologne, Germany, as well as Europe at large. Walker explains: "We improvise all our music. We don't compose anything on the computer. We just play around. The composition, if you like to call it, is later when we cut our live jam into the song structure."
Walker's view of music production was not always so progressive. His start in the music industry was as record producer of formulaic house and hip-hop tracks, helping to sell over 3.5 million records to techno kids. Walker was headed for the fast lane, but when the record label he worked for went belly-up and his wife took their kids and left him, Walker's life began to unravel in a big way. With abrupt changes occurring in his life, Walker abandoned his 'music for the masses' style and headed underground.
Trained in electronic composition at the University of Cologne, Walker found himself returning to the ideas of one music professor in particular. Typically it is the student that renounces a conservative paradigm, but it was Walker that came to the university indoctrinated with traditional ideas of composition that this inspirational professor demolished. Walker explains how his teacher, an advanced music philosopher, attacked musical dogma: "I'd compose normal things and my professor would say, 'Stop this fucking nonsense, there are no right harmonies. There are no right melodies. There are no right rhythms. Do whatever you want to do...create your own. There is not a right way to tune a synthesizer. There is no correct or not correct. Do whatever you want to do.' This was mainly what I learned at university. It was a really special thing."
In contrast to punk's rebellion against the stagnant institution of rock, Walker's immersion in the acid underground was not reactionary, but an evolution. The influence of legendary German artists Can, also from Cologne, along with his experiences at university, gave Walker a starting point from which he would create his own sound. Add to the mix an affinity for the deep bass funk of old-school hip- hop, as well as the early Chicago acid, the orgins of Air Liquide's funky electronics begin to make sense.
In 1991, Walker met Cem Oral, a.k.a. Jammin' Unit, a studio engineer and producer from Frankfurt, and inspired by ideas from past and present, began to develop their own production style. An Air Liquide record is the product of night-long marathon recording sessions where the recording tape rolls endlessly, capturing the best moments of their spontaneity. "When we go into the studio we make a lot of tracks, but throw most in the trash box," explains Walker. "We work almost three or four months on one album." That's a lot of tape.
Aware of the clichés in techno, Walker and Jammin' Unit resist relying on the standard Roland tools and choose to exploit the capabilities of a variety of machines, one at a time. Walker: "Our technique is to choose a main machine for different productions, and don't always use the same ones. We're constantly exchanging equipment. Every kid thinks, 'If I buy a 909, a 303, a 101, I'll be a techno star!' If you want to make old-school acid, sure, but to make interesting music you just need an instrument to work with and your brains and your hands. You don't need anything special from a certain factory like Roland or Yamaha."
Walker refutes the notion that the creepy alien nuances to their music are a by-product of a lifestyle separated from the daylight world, or a happy combination of psychedelics. Instead, the one absolute to Air Liquide is their disturbing sound--it's an intentional foray into darkness.
"This strange style is our idea behind Air Liquide," Walker elaborates. "It's always the same feeling we want to create. We definitely want to create a feeling that isn't too happy. I know how to do happy music, but it's not Air Liquide. If the music's too happy people will listen to it when they are cleaning their apartments, washing dishes, or it'll be used as elevator music. I hate the idea of hearing our music in elevators. Our music is for thinking, dreaming, listening--frightening or lovable. We want to make the soundtrack for your nervous breakdown, your acid trip, or watching the stars."
Walker's only hope is for the future to continue in the same direction: "As Air Liquide we definitely want to stay funky. For me, I just want to keep producing records. We produce records for ourselves first, then for the people into this type of music. But I cannot guarantee that we'll keep our style."
Guarantees or not, Walker makes clear the most important part of his music: "That it comes from the heart, definitely." Air Liquide's music may be a foreboding experience, but its honesty is assured. ![]()
(A megadose of thanks to Michele Colyn for her lifesaving transcription of this interview.)