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When meeting Derwin you are face to face with a contradiction. He is a successful musician in his own right, and remixed the likes of Bloc Party, Zero 7 and Little Boots. On the other hand, he is a shy character that is dreading going on stage in 15 minutes time.

How does performing make you feel?
I guess I’m a bit shy, it’s really stressful. You get the feeling you should cater to the audience, but at the same time you just want to do what you do, and not be bothered about what anybody wants. I mean the problem is the audience, they just don’t get it. It’s not their fault. I just feel uncomfortable on stage, like I’m there to perform like a monkey or something. When you are on stage in front of loads of people and you aren’t well known it’s difficult, when they are there to see you it’s great, but I think I could take it or leave it at the moment, the live thing.

You used to lay lyrics over your tracks. Why did you get out of the rap game?
Yeah well, I was never in it I think, that’s why. No, I used to do freestyling with this guy Infinite Livez on Big Dada, and I was making beats as well… We had an improvised noise rap group called Kiss Akabusi, It was good fun but I didn’t really feel comfortable doing it. I mean I loved to rap because I grew up listening to hip hop and stuff and I really wanted to be a rapper, but when I realised I was shit I gave up.

I heard that you used to work in a sex shop?
It was probably one of the best jobs I ever had, it was easy. It was just long hours and a lot of weird customers. It was quite depressing; I’d get invited to weird orgies by 60 year old guys asking me to bang their wives. And I got a lot of questions about erectile dysfunction, and making your cock bigger, quite a lot of that. The most depressing thing was how many fake vaginas and blow up dolls I sold around Christmas… one guy bought a blow up doll on Christmas Eve and brought it back on Boxing Day because it didn’t work. So he’d had it over Christmas and thought “right, I’m gonna get a shag out of this blow up doll” and it didn’t blow up, so his Christmas was ruined. Grim.
You sold your entire record collection to pay for a Japanese diploma… Was that hard to do?
Not really because I got to a point where I didn’t know what else I should do with my life, it was a real teenager kind of thing, even though I was 23. I kind of just sacrificed one thing for another. I love being able to speak, read and write another language. It’s not a language that a lot of people would take the time out to learn I don’t think.

Which record do you miss the most?
A few old Aphex Twin records from when he wasn’t called Aphex Twin, he was called something else… Also this track by Intelligent Hoodlum and Craig G – Live And Direct From The House Of Hits. My mate gave it to me on a 12”, and I fucking sold it. And I’m really annoyed that I sold it because it’s amazing.

How did living in Japan for a year affect you?
I get really inspired when I’m there, I like the way things look. It taught me to be more independent, and trust myself. Trust my own judgment, and just do what I’m doing.

What are you listening to at the moment?
I just bought the Mount Kimbie album, and an album by a guy called Forest Swords. And Jason Derulo I guess.

Finally, do you have a joke for us?
No.

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The debut album by Mount Kimbie, Crooks and Lovers, is an expansive yet understated record. Lump them in with post-dubstep contemporaries Joy Orbison and James Blake if you like, in reality their unassuming sound is a broken love-letter to the capital in all its ramshackle, hyperactive beauty. Jehan Harding caught up with Dom Maker and Kai Campos after their set at Field Day to find out more.

How did you guys meet?
Dom: We met at university, we were in the same halls together. That was in South London at Elephant and Castle. I was studying film and video.
Kai: I was studying Artist Management. We used to walk to uni together sometimes, talk about music and stuff.

How long have you been producing?
D: Together about two and a half years. Prior to that, I’d done about five or six months. It’s easy to get into but it’s not easy to master. The amount of throwaway files we’ve got is unbelievable. It’s really difficult to keep the quality up. I just produce a lot of shit..it’s difficult.

Mount Kimbie – Field by Ragged Words

How does the partnership work? Is it like one of you will start with something?
D: We’ve always worked in that way. We wrote together [when] we were in London, and then I moved to Brighton and it’s become more sending things back and forwards. We don’t assign roles or anything like that.
K: We both do similar things I guess, share ideas. Quite often if we’re practising for a live gig, we’ll end up writing a lot and developing things.

I always think with music like Mount Kimbie’s, the environment is very important? Do you wanna get a more secluded studio?
D: We’re trying to find a space at the moment.
K: It doesn’t really need to be a studio, don’t need a 30k studio. Just need a space that isn’t my kitchen. We’ve moved around quite a lot, probably recorded in like I dunno, ten different places.

Like where?
K: Dom had this shitty old fucking room in Peckham. Just so small, horribly small.
D: Just taken up by the speakers, the monitors.
K: We wrote most of the first EP in there.
D: I think you can hear that.
K: Second one was done at my house, mostly in my kitchen. The album was all over kitchens and garages bedrooms and stuff.

What’s the story behind the album name, Crooks & Lovers?
K: I was listening to a podcast called the Hackney podcast. They usually centre around a specific theme. This one was about Night in Hackney taking about taxi drivers driving around, dropping people off. How they are kind of, these people that are involved so much in the city and they really don’t know they connect everybody. There was a line about delivering lover to lover and crook to crook. I thought it really summed up my experience of London, in terms of, I love the place dearly and I hate it as well. This crook and a lover aspect to it, same with everybody you meet in London, they’re crooks and lovers.

http://www.myspace.com/mountkimbie

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The Mercury Prize underdogs may have missed out on the top accolade but stand unfazed as they continue to break through with a forthcoming second album. Jehan Harding talks to singer Dave Okumu.

The Invisible are delightfully difficult to place. The critical acclaim showered over their self titled debut album, nominated for the prestigious Mercury Music Prize in 2009, hasn’t changed them in the slightest. Soulful frontman, Dave Okumu was even asked to join the panel of judges this year, an honour surely bestowed only upon those with certain credentials.

“It’s really made me appreciate even more the significance of being nominated. What it actually takes to make that shortlist, having been on both sides of the fence, which is really peculiar, a bit like going behind enemy lines in the most positive way.”

“There’s something tokenistic about a winner, an overall winner. I think the most significant thing about the Mercury award is actually the shortlist. It provides an overview of what has happened in British music over 12 months. I think if anyone wanted to look back at a particular year or period in music, they could look at the Mercury award and whatever you think about that shortlist, it’s kind of there to promote discussion in a way. It’s never going to cover absolutely everything.”

The trio, consisting of Okumu (vocals / guitars), Tom Herbert (bass / synthesizer) and Leo Taylor (drums), continue to immerse themselves in other projects. Hot Chip’s recent album, Made In The Dark, featured contributions from Taylor, whilst Herbert and Okumu are working with long-time Zero 7 collaborator, Tom Skinner, under the name of Crump.

“I think space vs distraction is always a challenge, it’s the challenge of the modern age. It’s seems like so many people are so often in flux just trying to get things finished, get things done and it can be really difficult if you haven’t got a structure that automatically provides that. We’re always juggling various things, whether it’s live commitments or our involvement in other projects that are important to us. The Invisible feels quite significant and we’re really proud of ourselves for just creating our own structure.”

Whilst sessions for their debut were overseen by avant-garde electronic pioneer, Matthew Herbert in secluded Whitstable, the follow-up has been more half and half. The foundations have been laid in London at The Pool, under the watchful eye of Ben Hillier, esteemed producer behind Blur’s Think Tank amongst other classics.

“I’d never been there before [The Pool], and I always wanted to record there. I’m a real fan of Ben’s and I love the studio, so it was great to do some tracking there.”

The trio have now decamped to Brighton for overdubs and tweaks and good times all round with Rich File, formerly of UNKLE, calling the shots and keeping them sane.

“It just feels like he’s exactly what we need. The role of a producer can mean so many things, it can be very ambiguous, some producers are glorified engineers, some producers are fascist sort of imposers of their vision which is kind of how I see Rich. Obviously we really need someone who can help us realize our ideas fully and bring that extra dimension and continually keep us focused and inspire us. Rich is doing all of the above, and he’s also just making it really really fun. So many people make records and it can be quite a miserable place, tortured and painful. There’s a lot of agonizing and insecurity and concern about what people are going to think, that’s just totally absent from this process and that has a lot to do with Rich. Just the energy that he brings to the table, the types of dance-moves he selects at certain points to express the meaning of the song. It could be in the way that he marinades the bacon with chilli sauce, at just the right moment when you really need that little pick-me-up. Or when he introduces Maynards Wine Gums to proceedings. Or through the way that he produces sound through an array of really quite high-end equipment. It’s just a whole range of things really, it’s just a joy. I feel like I could just carry on doing this forever, I hope we’ll make lots of records together.”

Their debut album remains a joy. Hushed pop vocals drift over a world of acoustic warmth, filtered through electronic meanderings tinged abrasively and tenderly. So many ideas dwelled upon, but never for too long. The melancholy zest of London Town’s no-no-no hook and the cop-car siren solo at the end of Constant for example. The total effect is one of urgency and immediacy belied by a casual charm, that of a group totally on top of their aesthetic.

Bolstered by touring and the ensuing reaffirmation of their identity, the follow-up is definitely a record to be excited about. More captured hearts and critical fanfare will head The Invisible’s way. I know this because they are on the right path. One of their own making.

The Invisible will release their second album this summer.
Words: Jehan Harding
Images: Mads Perch

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As part of Issue One Fragment got the opportunity to catch up with Dan Swan; the artist and film maker favoured by many in the music industry including M.I.A and Rye Rye about his debut film; Lux Laze.

Dystopia is in the very essence of Daniel Swan’s debut short film, Lux Laze, which is an evocative homage to the visual codes of science fiction.

A time traveller reaches an uninhabited single continent of alienating and looming cityscapes. Soundtracked by Jack Latham, who provides a guttural otherworldly feel; the film marks a visual high water mark for a young filmmaker who is making waves with his unique style.

So how did the collaboration with Jack come about?
Dan: Well, do you know the band Lightning Bolt? The drummer has his own project, called Black Pus, and they were originally going to score it, but because of touring they couldn’t. Then I had a week, and asked Jack to do it and he said yes.

So did you just send him the film and get him to come up with something?
Well, no, it’s part of the reason I failed Camberwell [College] actually. I was late finishing the film so I ended up handing in the packaging I’d made with a VHS inside, except I hadn’t finished the film yet so I filled it with episodes of old American sitcoms. Loads of old Will and Grace episodes I think. Then one day I got a call from my tutor saying he’d managed to locate a VHS deck, and my heart just sank.

Do you approach things the same way? Whether you’re doing a music video, or visuals, or a film?
The first thing I did were these collages of Youtube videos, they were short films made out of clips I’d got off Youtube, I’d left the sound hard rigged in, so that it can create its own soundtrack. I don’t think my method of working has changed much since then, except now I’m making these things myself rather than re-appropriating them. I like to use the wrong tools for the job. I liken it to making collages, when you can’t change everything and you have to use what you can use.

You’ve already developed a really unique visual style I think. Especially in Lux Laze where it really seems to suit this sci-fi dystopia the characters explore.
It was more about the visuals, and the style, than the plot. I knew what I wanted visually, and the hardest bit was trying to come up with a plot to match what I wanted to create.

Did you shoot Lux Laze straight onto VHS?
Yeah, which was a real hassle. I wish I had shot it straight onto DV and then moved it onto VHS, it would’ve been a lot easier.

What I especially liked was that, you know how people say sci-fi and fantasy work is really about the present, but Lux Laze isn’t, its so self contained.
People said that it needed some kind of social critique to it, but I don’t think you should approach making a film by saying ‘this needs to be an exploration of what’s wrong with society’, or ‘I need to be dealing with social issues’. I wanted to make Lux Laze because I watch a lot of sci-fi and wanted to reference certain things I love.

What have you got planned next then?
I’m actually starting work on a second sci-fi film, which is going to be a Fata Morgana (mirage) desert type film set in an uninhabited future. There’ll be a machine, the last machine on earth, which has to re-inhabit the earth through this creature, this mutated little thing. I want to get some sort of mutant reptile from a pet shop, but I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get one? It’s all resting on its star character really.

Words: Felix Petty, Off Modern
Images: Dan Swan

Pick up a copy of Daniel Swan’s Lux Laze over at his website here: www.danielswan.co.uk

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The lovely Felix Petty interviewed our James Kirkup for the new Off Modern blog about the paper, growth and design.

Check the interview out here.

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