John Roberts
Europe’s dance scene takes a deep breath. Minimal techno—with its endless, cold baselines and teasing repetitive structure—is getting banned from most of the clubs. Traditional house music is back again. But the transition between minimal and house is going too fast. Saxophone solos, bongo extravaganzas and hysteric vocals are exaggerating the need for deepness. Fortunately, there are producers who don’t fall for the overdose and are able to manage the fragile architecture of groove-orientated, soulful dance music. John Roberts is one of them. He’s a tall, skinny dark-haired guy with eyes so clear and sparkling that it almost seems as if they are glowing. His 12-inches for the Berlin- and Hamburg-based Dial label brought mystery and elegance back into deep house. His live-sets in leading dance-venues like the Panorama Bar in Berlin are highly acclaimed by prominent DJs, producers, journalists and of course those who are exchanging words for body language in clubs all over the world. We met John Roberts between sound checking and his live performance at the Club Trouw in Amsterdam. In an apartment formally owned by two heroin addicts, in the western part of the city, John sits on a couch, smoking a cigarette and checking his beer can for content. In the background the song “They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!” by Napoleon XIV is playing.
It’s recording. You can start your monologue.
(Laughing) Is this the Beatles? Which album is this? The White Album (Apple, 1968)? I found this copy of The White Album that belonged to my dad and inside the record sleeve there was a letter that he had written to his first girlfriend. He was the same age in the letter as I was when I found it. It was so weird. It totally sounded like I wrote it. He made the same shitty jokes and he had the same bad tactics with women.
Who is John Roberts? You can start where you were born.
You really want to know?
You are 26.
Twenty five, I just turned 25. Eight months ago.
Did you have any outlooks on your future?
You mean when I was young? It depends on when you’d ask me.
Did your parents have any expectations of you?
They wanted me to have a good job. That’s all they cared about. For a long time I wanted to be a graphic designer. They were really pushing for that. I started for two years and then I changed to art school: The School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
Did you produce any music at that time?
Yeah, I was messing around with it.
Only people who don’t take it seriously say that they were just ‘messing around.’
I wasn’t taking it seriously back then.
[John gets a little toy keyboard with animal sounds. He’s pushing buttons and speeds up the tempo. Someone in the room says ‘ghetto house.’]
What was your first contact with house music?
I grew up in Cleveland. When I was fifteen I started going to this record store called Grand Pubas.
Was it owned by the Detroit Grand Pubahs?
No, it was owned by a guy called Doug. And they were never really friendly to me. But I would buy these mix tapes from these guys from Chicago. Like DJ Milton, DJ Funk and DJ Deeon. They played this super stripped- down house music with just an 808 bass and them speaking and rapping over the beats.
Did you go to parties where they played that stuff?
I really wanted to. But they would only play that kind of music in Chicago, in the projects. So, basically I never got the opportunity to go there.
You didn’t dare.
No. But then I moved to Chicago and went to some clubs where they would play it. But they mixed it with old classic Chicago house and deep house.
You know, art students in Holland like to play ghetto stuff at parties. They are drunk, and they’re always so ironic about it.
But I think that’s as good as it can get in a way. That’s how they show their appreciation for it. They obviously could never have the authentic experience. For a skinny white guy it’s the closest you can get to showing your appreciation for something like ghetto house.
It seems to me, that you show the same reservation in your productions. You would never try to put a ghetto touch on your tracks or get vulgar.
It’s not so much about getting vulgar in the sense of using a rude vocal, but being vulgar by overstepping my bounds. I know there are a lot of deep house artists nowadays who put vocals over their tracks. Like someone preaching. But I think that’s totally inappropriate.
Why?
Because it has nothing to do with your upbringing. You’ve probably never been to a Baptist church. I mean, you can do it and have a good outcome. But I think that’s a really inauthentic experience that you are creating. So I’d rather take a vocal which relates to something I’ve experienced myself.
One of the tracks you played at the sound check had some sort of hidden vocal. Are you afraid of using vocals in a too obvious way?
Maybe. I’ve always felt that with vocals. Sometimes I put them more in the front, but I kind of like them hidden in the back. Most of the time I chop or strip them down because I want to use them like a percussive element.
Your tracks don’t have those explicit vocals, but the beats are pounding like ghetto house. They really hit you in the face.
My beats are still influenced by Dance Mania records. That’s still what I’m buying.
When I heard your tracks for the first time, the groove appeared to me as a galloping horse. And sometimes I heard an element which sounded like a whip, reining for control.
(Laughing) When I started making music, a friend of mine said it sounded like a galloping horse, but like a horse with a broken leg. A broken horse. I like to have that one lagging element in there. But I haven’t thought about it much lately. I still want to keep some experimental elements in my music, but my goal has never been to alienate people. I never wanted to make experimental music for example. I’m not trying to be like, ‘Oh, I’m so underground and I’m making underground dance music that no one can understand.’ I think working on my album has helped me to find a happy balance.
Besides taking part in club culture, you also have an interest in art. You work in a gallery and you are planning to make some artwork yourself. Do you need that balance?
I think it’s good to have a change of scenery now and then. If I was only involved in club culture, I would be really depressed all the time (laughs). It really wears you down. I need other stimulation and inspiration. Nightlife can be very draining.
How does your interest in art reflect in your music?
I don’t know if it’s clear for anyone else, but when I’m making music I always think about these images I’m collecting. I’m not sure though if these images are getting translated into my music or not. But in the dance music community, I think the artwork of a 12-inch is not important to most people who are buying records anyway.
But your label, Dial, pays much attention to that aspect.
Yeah, but Dial is one of the few labels where people are actually commenting on the artwork, which I think is great.
I’ve seen some of the images you referred to, like the picture of a can of caviar.
A-ha. The Rolls-Royce.
Yeah.
A gate in front of a big mansion.
Right. But also a black balloon, which didn’t make any sense to me at all. Balloons need to be colorful and represent joy.
I’m relating those images to my music. The images are representing something that I want to express. For example, the balloon. It has some kind of elegance and melancholy to it. But it’s also reserved, in a way. That’s how my music should sound.
Can you tell me something about your art?
No, not really.
You don’t want to tell?
I don’t want to talk about it.
Why not? Are you ashamed of it?
I’m not ashamed of it. It’s just that I don’t feel confident about something that is not developed.
But you could talk about development.
(Silence)
Why did you want to create art in the first place?
Because I think that it’s a really nice outlet, besides making music.
Is it photography?
Yeah.
But you don’t want to talk about your art because it’s not developed yet?
Yeah.
So you don’t actually know what to talk about?
I don’t want to. (Pauses) Yeah.
(Laughing) Now you are just saying ‘Yeah’.
(Laughing) I don’t think it’s relevant!
If it’s finished, are you going to show it?
I don’t know. I’m more interested in making a publication, like a book. But I wouldn’t want to do it if it would be something totally separate. I like the idea of my music and my visual art strengthening each other. Making artwork for my records, for example. Both the art and the music are representing the same ideas.
What kind of ideas?
Depression, reservation. But wrapped in some sort of elegance.
I guess. You’re leaving one element out. Your tracks have this erotic element. But it’s hidden, like a secret. The listener can find out about it, but is not allowed to share it.
I think that is pretty self-reflective. (Laughing) I just have a slightly reserved personality.
Is that an act?
No, it’s really me! I always end up being friends with people who have a more outgoing personalities, because it helps me to be more outgoing. If I was friends with people like myself, we would spend a lot of time in silence (laughing). Watching television.
Do you think about the perception of the audience when you are preparing a live set?
I’m forced to. Because when I’m getting booked to play shows I have to play a club set. I cannot go up there and play a slow, galloping 118 bpm experimental set. I mean yeah, it’s going to be you and four other people who will like it. But 500 other people will get alienated. The music I made for the album is individual enough and able to stand on its own. And I know that if it falls into a trend, at least I wasn’t thinking about that when I made it. You can still get your point across but still find a way to be inclusive. I think at this point that’s kind of important to me. I wanted to make the album not only for the people who are buying the 12-inches, but also for the people who are not part of the dance music community.
Are there any beatless tracks on your album?
There was this one track I just couldn’t find the right beat for. And I listened to it in the context of the complete album, but without a beat it just sounded like a total drop off. It took away all the congruity. Because in the end I want to make dance music. I don’t want to take that away.
Do you need the structure of dance music?
I want to have the structure of dance music, because that’s where I am coming from. If I wanted to make something purely melodic, I would end up with a depressing folk album. But that’s not where I’m coming from.
To me it sounds you are using the structure of dance music to take away responsibility. The beat is always there. You didn’t invent it and it won’t go away.
You think I’m using the beat as a defense mechanism?
Yes.
I don’t know, maybe partially. But at the same time, this is the type of music that is important to me. I don’t have any desire to stray from that.
So let’s talk about your art again.
Can I use the bathroom?
