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Studio 1
After the critical success of last year's multi-disc fetish item recognizing Wolfgang Voigt's pioneering Gas project, Kompakt wastes little time in reissuing this less expansive, previously out-of-print collection of the producer's concurrent minimal techno works.
Compared to the pomp, fanfare, and inflated buzz surrounding the repackaged commemorative Nah Und Fern boxes, Studio 1 comes practically under the radar in its unpretentious jewelcase with packaging that all but buries the origins of the material itself. (Notably, track names are not spelled out in the packaging, but Internet searches or visual cues reveal options. I've opted for the former in this case.) It is a simple, straightforward reissue looking to capitalize at least somewhat on Voigt's higher profile in the wake of both the aforementioned set and the perhaps more coveted Gas book+CD on Raster-Noton.
In these tough economic times, many of Voigt's older fans already familiar with his work under the Studio 1 (Studio Eins) moniker have little reason to spend their money on this, given the notable lack of bonus tracks. Still, such collector's sentiments become irrelevant once the music starts to play. Tracks like "Rosa 1" and the peppy "Lila 3" tinker with dub in a manner unlike the Chain Reaction crew, obdurately resistant to the temptations of long lush echoes that define the "pop ambient" Gas. Instead, Voigt plays ascetic under the guise of Studio 1, designing for austerity with delicate, precise rhythmic foundations. He makes it easy to share his appreciation for the delightful contrast of abrupt, punchy kicks against delicate synthesized hi-hats and snares. On "Neu 3," the bass subtly gurgles underneath that crisp mix while two tinny stabs play every four beats. This is precisely what drew me to the clicks-and-cuts scene in the mid-to-late '90s; moreso than the glitch, I was enamored with the trance-inducing hypnotic combination of minimalism and repetition in a dance music context.
Just about all of Studio 1 could easily pass as new material, which says more about the subgenre's arrested development than any visionary futurism on Voigt's part. Sure, Richie Hawtin and his M_nus crew have done a fine job of mining the darker forbidding corners, but—with few exceptions—producers since Voigt haven't done much to advance beyond the sound he undeniably helped establish in his more productive heyday.
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