Gui Boratto
Interview Nik Mercer
Photography Paul Rodriguez
It’s hard not to think of Gui Boratto as one of the most serious and intense musicians and producers out there. The deep contemplation of his three albums, Royal House (Trama, 2004), Chromophobia (Kompakt, 2007), and, most recently, Take My Breath Away (Kompakt, 2009) is hard to ignore and even more difficult to not to let consume you. Syncopated rhythms, densely packed beats, heavily layered synthesizer riffs, and swooning bass and guitar melodies make all his work undeniably complex and indisputably moving.
He succeeds at both keeping your mind working – trying to explicate every eight-bar sequence of tune-age – and boogieing to his universally appealing jams, whether you’re listening to them at a cavernous São Paulo nightclub or in the comfort of your living room (the place where, coincidentally, the magic happens for the man).
Surprisingly, Gui is a humble and gentle family man who concerns himself less with the dynamic of dancefloor hits and more with the well-being of his household (before conducting this interview, he chatted with his wife via Skype for an hour or so and remotely tucked his daughter in for the night).
After talking with Gui about his latest full-length effort, the soothing Take My Breath Away, it became clear that he’d probably prefer to find you jogging to the songs neatly packaged within than grinding the night away in a sweaty underground techno club.
Tell me about the theme of your new album, Take My Breath Away. It has a unique progression to it.
Yeah, it’s kind of like this (makes outline of two horizontal humps).
It doesn’t really resemble your previous album, Chromophobia.
To me, anyway. I think they’re quite similar in the melodic way, and also, maybe, the way it [develops] from the beginning to the middle to the end. Of course, they’re two different albums and they were created with two years in between, but I think they are quite similar. My way of thinking, the way I put all the tracks together, the way I tell a little story.
It’s interesting how you keep making that vertical up-and-down motion. Most people tend to think of the progression of their albums as a mountain with a single peak, not two or three.
First of all, I think the first track, “Take My Breath Away”, opens the CD because it expresses the whole thing. That’s the track that tells the whole story, so that’s why I decided to open the album with that track. It’s like a prelude with really long, melodious lines. It has lots of different emotions in it, too. There are some happy parts, some dark parts. That’s why it opens the album only to be followed by “Atomic Soda”, which is the darkest track. It goes down from there with “Colors”, but it builds back up again with “Ballroom” and “Eggplant”. Then there’s the final end, “Godet”. Yeah, “Ballroom” and “Eggplant” get pretty heavy, but they’re different that what I’m used to, still. They feel a little more ambient and ethereal. Maybe more contemplative or something. Music is always a reflection of our moods. I did the album between June and October. I delivered the album in November. Those four months, I was pretty happy. I was having a vacation in Barcelona with my daughter and my wife. It was right in the middle of the process, and that’s why it sounds really melodic. But the album’s not really happy all the time. I got into introspective moods. I still think the result is quite similar to Chromophobia because the process was really the same. I produced most of the album during the morning, my best time to compose. It’s right after having breakfast with my daughter and sending her to school. My studio is in the living room of my house, and it’s really great to produce there [at that time], not late at night.
That’s interesting since—
Yeah, most of my friends like to go to the studio at, like, 2 a.m. I really hate that. Well, sometimes it’s nice; that’s the nice part about having the studio in my house. Sometimes I do productions after having dinner with my wife. I’m really focused during the morning. I really like being alone then and doing music. It’s where my inspiration comes from.
It’s interesting because the living room is normally a place of extreme comfort and relaxation.
Yeah, well, it’s really what I love to do. More than the gigs, more than everything else. I never was a DJ, and yes, playing in front of a crowd is really fun and amazing, too, but having to be away from my family [is tough]. Like, right now, I was just on the phone with my wife in Brazil for about an hour. They’re going to sleep in one or two hours. Anyway, I have these two very different panoramas: the one in Asia or America or wherever and the one at home, in Brazil.
Is it ever difficult for you to articulate your inspiration and the work you put into your music in comfortable zones to a big club crowd? There’s quite a contrast to a smoky nightclub with strobes and tons of noise and your cozy living room in the morning.
I put everything I experience into my music. Even when I’m making music in my living room, I’m remembering some situations at night, and, of course, that inspires me as well. I put all my influences into my music. Also, it’s really nice to see some of my friends play. That gets me excited and inspired as well.
There’s a certain gentleness to the music you make, I guess. One of my favorite and least expected songs on the album, “No Turning Back”, for example, is almost like a pop ballad.
Yeah, it’s pretty pop. I mean, I came from pop. My main instrument is guitar. I also studied piano maybe 12, 15 years. I remember when I was a kid right after school for the whole afternoon, six to eight hours, I was playing guitar. Even today, I really love rock and I still put some guitar in [my music]. But it’s still really mellow. “No Turning Back” is a really mellow track. It can be quite cheesy, as well! I don’t really follow any rules, I guess. I have a lot of friends who seem to produce the same track all the time. They’re really concerned about the dancefloor, and, yeah, okay. There are some club tracks on my album, but it’s really hard to make 12 tracks that are really only oriented toward dance.
That’s one thing that confuses me a little today. Musicians don’t necessarily distinguish between a 12-inch and an album; there’s a drive to always make an album. Like, you first make a 12-inch dance track and then you think, ‘Okay, I’m going to make an album now, and it’ll still be a dance-y, but it will include way more songs.’
Yeah, right. Like, b-sides on a 12-inch make sense, but on an album— (pauses). Vinyl is really oriented to mixing. They’re made for DJs. Most 12-inchs and EPs are focused on the dancefloor, and to produce an album that’s not really concerned about that [allows you to] show [your audience] different material. In 2005, most people knew me because of my dance tracks, so when I put Chromophobia on the market, I was able to experiment a little and show another side of Gui Boratto. I really like that. Most producers like to do albums because of that. They get to show different faces or experiment with things. Even if you put 12 club tracks on an album, you’ll never have 12 hits. I really prefer the slower tracks because you don’t get sick of them really quickly like you do with the club tracks.
I feel like some people try to pigeonhole you into the Kompakt scene and dub you, lazily, as a minimal techno guy. That completely disregards your desire to experiment. For example, your unique sense of rhythm and syncopation has always stuck with me. It’s not so much about intertwining and layering beats and melodies, but rather understanding how your songs work as a cohesive whole.
Well, I’m an architect, and— (pauses) I see music. It’s like a room. I don’t see the drum as being separate from the rest of the instruments. They’re all connected. There’s the rug and the sofa and the lamp, and everything’s part of the whole room. It’s hard to explain because music is really abstract. I treat one click with the same importance as one bass note or one synthesizer riff. So I see the music as a space and everything is really connected. Music is like a painting or a sculpture or, really, music is just like architecture, in my opinion.
You’re working with cutting up negative space, I guess. Music is filling ether with the opposite of silence. Architecture is about filling empty tangible space with forms and objects.
Exactly. Architecture is just as much about filled space as it is about empty space. Where the light enters, for example. The empty spaces are really important.
It’s pretty easy to layer things on top of each other indefinitely—
They just want to fill every second of silence.
You sort of transcend that, though. You have many, many different things going on in your songs, but seem to think of all of them as complete pieces. You see some sort of holistic togetherness in your work.
I never thought about that. I really think about that, subconsciously, though.
Did you bring any new instruments or equipment into Take My Breath Away?
When I was doing Chromophobia, I was using an older version of Pro Tools. I’m using a really amazing sound box that an old Neumann engineer designed specially for me. I asked for 16 inputs and two outputs, and it sounds quite warm and technically better, because the gear I use, it’s more high quality. But I like the Chromophobia sound, too, and I still use pretty much the same process. I have maybe 20 synthesizers. They’re not all in my living room because my wife doesn’t allow it. I open my closet, and find some in there. There are some under my bed, and in my daughter’s room. I make some recordings and then I change to another synthesizer. Also in the album, I recorded some bass. I just got a new Music Man bass. It’s a five-string StingRay, and I just love the sound. I tried so many – a few electronic ones, the Moog one, the Arp – and none of them sounded organic enough. I wanted to put some more organic elements into “Azzurra” for example, and that’s why I decided to try the Music Man, and I love the result. When the drums come in for what’s sort of like the chorus, it sounds really indie rock. I really like that, the mixture between real instruments and electronic ones. It’s sort of industrial. “Besides” almost sounds like an ode to Peter Hook’s bass playing at times, too.
Yeah, I think it sounds more like the Cure.
I made a little joke at the end of “Beautiful Life”, though. There’s a Peter Hook high bass [riff]. I listened to New Order when I was a kid. That band really inspired me. So did the Cure and Depeche Mode. On “Beautiful Life”, I really pretend to be like Peter Hook. But “Besides”, I think, is more like the Cure. I use a guitar, and I wasn’t thinking about New Order.
Both “Besides” and “Beautiful Life” have this indie rock sort of sound, I think. I get what you mean.
I have a huge connection to rock. Especially bands from the ’80s, like Echo and the Bunnymen. I was never a huge fan of progressive rock like Yes. I used to listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin when I was learning guitar. I really loved Kiss, too. When I was a teenager, I was really into the ’80s. I was into simple rock—
That jangle pop sound—
Yeah, exactly. I really love the Seattle bands, too. Like Nirvana and Alice in Chains. I really love Alice in Chains or Soundgarden. It’s really simple rock that’s not concerned with guitar solos and stuff. I really prefer [strong] riffs and cool harmonies. I love the Smiths for that reason, too. They have such beautiful compositions.
The more you talk about the stuff you like, the more your music makes sense to me.
Yeah, you get it now.
Now, you’re on Kompakt, but I think you’re quite a bit different than a lot of the people on the label, and that’s not only because you don’t live in Germany. What drew you to that label?
First of all, my music has changed a lot since my first release, “Arquipélago”. That was much more of a Kompakt track, so they asked to release it on K2, their new label. After the third or fourth release, when we decided to make an album, I decided to bring my other influences in. Now I’m really free to do whatever I want. I feel a part of the family yet really independent. Of course, I’m not doing drum and bass and releasing it on Kompakt, and honestly, were I to do that, I’d probably put it out on a drum and bass label. Kompakt is a really creative label. They have drum and bass, ambient, techno. I mean, it’s a very wide and open label. There’s so many different styles on the same label, and that’s why they have the sub-labels, like K2 and Kompakt Pop and so many more. I think I’m free to do whatever I want. Even when they don’t like this song or that song, they allow me to put whatever I want on my album.
I think it’s safe to say that Kompakt has a handful of flagship artists, and you seem to be one of them.
I don’t know. I’m super happy to feel a part of the family and, at the same time, to release what I want.
They’ve given you a lot of freedom, which makes me wonder if you ever really think about the audience you’re making your music for. Do you ever imagine the audience you’re putting your music out there for or is the creative process totally a personal one?
Music is a product, right? Everybody’s concerned about who’s going to buy the product, even if it’s subconscious. Most of my audience is women to be totally honest. Like, 70 per cent of my audience is all girls, maybe because of the melodies.
Wow. I never really thought about that!
Me either! I just noticed that from the last two years. Especially in Brazil. I’ve been playing the south of Brazil, and there are the most gorgeous women there. When I play there, 80 per cent women! Maybe it’s because of the melodies. When you’re doing a club track, of course you think of the dancefloor. You think of the beats and the breaks. When I do a mellow track, I think of someone in the car or having lunch or walking with their iPod.
I assume you get a lot of support in Brazil and a good amount in Germany, too. Where else do you think you’re received well?
It’s really rare for me to play in the south of Spain, in Valencia, for example. All they want there is hard techno. Music is really cultural, you know? I play a lot in Barcelona or Madrid. The people in France really love my music. In Asia as well. I’m going to Japan for a 30-minute set! It’s going to take me five days for a 30-minute set! They really like my music, too. I love to play in Germany and in England, and even in the U.S. I really enjoyed my three gigs in New York. I played with Ellen Allien at Studio B, and it was really awesome. There weren’t so many Brazilians. Sometimes I play in a venue where, like, half of the place is Brazilians. I really prefer – when playing outside of my country – to play to the locals and not to the Brazilians! Amsterdam is really nice. The Dutch people are a really incredible crowd. Sometimes they make me posters with my name handwritten or track names to hold up during the gig to [request songs], like at a rock show.
Has anyone ever told you that your music is tough to work with for other DJs? A lot of DJs need to work with a certain BPM.
My music is normally slower than the DJ before is playing. So sometimes, the DJ that’s doing the sort of warm-up asks me, ‘Gui, do you want me to go slower?’ I say, ‘No! Play whatever you want.’ I don’t mind if my music starts slower than the last one. Last year, when I was finishing with “Beautiful Life”, I heard some guys say, ‘No, I don’t want to play after that because it’s all ecstasy.’ I had that a lot in Brazil. At most parties, I’m the last one. In Brazil, I’m always the last one, but I always ask the promoters to put me in the middle. I think my music is for the middle of the night. It’s not for ending the night. My music is not for the peak time.
You were doing a few collaborative tracks.
Well, now I’m working on an album with Tim Simenon from Bomb the Bass. We worked together in Brazil for two weeks. It’s going to be a new Bomb the Bass album, produced by me and Tim Simenon, and we’re having a lot of collaborators on it. We made the skeleton – no, more like 60, 70 per cent of each track. Tim’s doing more work in Amsterdam or wherever and sending me back [the tracks] to get extra material on top. We have four tracks really done so far. We worked with maybe the best drummer in Brazil, this guy named Cuca Teixeira. We had a studio session with him to put live drums into the recordings. We’re just using little elements of his drums for texturing. I’m really excited by the album. Tim’s the artist. I’m just working as a producer. I’m doing some remixes as well. There’s a Moby one coming. I just received the parts last week.
There’s always been a tremendous amount of collaboration within the dance music world. It’s really exciting to see that. What inspires you personally to reach out to these people and suggest working on a 12-inch or an album? What’s the drive?
Well, it depends. I did some tracks with my friend Martin Eyer. When I was in Germany, we were together in his house, and he said, ‘Gui, let’s make a track.’ It was the first track we did. Then, when he was playing Brazil, we did another track – two, actually – and released them on Automatik, and it normally goes along like that. I’ve done a few tracks through the Internet when we’re not together physically. There’s lot of different methods of collaboration. You’ll do collaborations at least with people you like, that you identify yourself with.
You don’t see that a whole lot in rock.
Yeah, but it’d be nice. I’d like to collaborate with other artists, like rock musicians. Normally you see remixes, but not collaborations. But then again, there are projects like Electronic with Bernard Sumner, Johnny Marr and Karl Bartos. That’s a big collaboration band. I really love that band.
There may be an element of convenience to electronic collaboration. When you’re trying to do something with Marr and Sumner, for example, you sort of need to get all your guitars and equipment in one studio.
Well, yeah, it’s harder. It takes more time. It consumes more of everything. More money, more travel. It’s more difficult, you’re right. It’s pretty rare to get a rock and a techno guy to get together and do something nice. Maybe there’s still a cultural, tribe thing [going on]. Some of the [rock] musicians don’t think the techno guys are real musicians. It’s sort of a silly thought, but—
You don’t see a whole lot of rock bands collaborating with other rock bands.
Maybe old rock bands, though, like the Live Aid festivals.
Lastly, I’m still really curious about your architecture work.
When I graduated, I worked two years in the urbanistic area. I wanted to be an architect to work on buildings – that’s the main goal – but when I was in the middle, there was a lot of action in the urbanistic area. That’s why I worked two years within it. It’s really nice to think about a city in a different way, like an organism. You have to think about how it flows, how it connects, the public spaces, that sort of thing. That passion really grew up inside of me. I was involved in music for 10 years at that time, though. Now, I think it’s been more like 20 since I started when I was 13 years old or something. Music is my first passion. I did the architecture stuff because to be a musician in Brazil is hard. Music is not really a recognizable area. Architecture puts your feet on the floor; it’s a more solid career. My guitar professor and piano teacher had difficult times. They were always worried about money. In Europe, and even in America, you can follow music as a career. It’s easier than it is in Brazil. So I tried my second option, but I still love music more.
