July 15-21, 2004

music

Ghost Story

LOGO STICK: "Nothing makes me more pissed off than willful obscurity," says Mike Dykehouse, who's helping make Ghostly a household name.

How a dance/electronic label made its presence known.

by Andrew Parks

The ghosts of the maze haunt us all. Here's one now, its head cloaked in a salmon-pink sheet, its eyes springing like a Slinky from the wall at Spaceboy Records.

The ghost's name? Matthew Dear. This isn't one of those dreaded Pac-Man phantoms. It's the logo for Ghostly International: the most promising American label in underground dance music.

"It's a brand of the mind, a quality stamp," says Ghostly owner Sam Valenti IV. "It's not ironic. I just love that stuff — logos, branding and characters."

He founded Ghostly in his University of Michigan dorm room five years ago. The original intent was as ambitious then as it is today. First: discredit the notion that you must be a drug-crazed E-tard to appreciate dance music. Second: eliminate the tunnel vision of your not-so-friendly neighborhood electronic label. Lastly: meld and mold the opposing forces of art and commerce, high and low culture.

"There's a lot of people who want to hear good electronic music, then they go to the store and are faced with 70 shitty compilations," Valenti says. "I'm trying to bridge high art and credible music with engaging visuals and an identifiable brand. It's with the intention of eliminating the distance this music has created, either through the Warp model, which has evolved into a cold, vector-driven aesthetic, or the flip, which is the redundant, boring dance music most people buy."

The cover art is what draws a music buyer's eye to the racks. Ghostly's retro/futurist look excels at pulling potential listeners in, whether it be through the playful "Boy, Cat, Bird" designs of Michael Segal (Idol Tryouts) or the sometimes streamlined, otherwise abstract splatter art of Will Calcutt (Twine, One/Three).

The 8-bit Ghostly logo is prominent on each jacket, immediately recognizable in the upper-left corner of every 12-inch single. Valenti says he doesn't even like video game graphics that much (though he does appreciate the geometry of Q*Bert). The admitted Madonna fan attributes the success of Ghostly's insignia on '80s nostalgia, which explains why those born between 1975 and 1983 are drawn to the design as if in a tractor beam. It turns out Valenti spun hip-hop records under the name DJ Spaceghost in high school. One afternoon, a friend forged a metallic "Spaceghost" logo in shop class. Valenti encircled the bug-eyed creature, eventually birthing the Ghostly International brand.

The icon is now synonymous with the most diverse and accessible roster in American electronic music. Among its ranks: the micro-house and techno-pop of Dear, the funky, mechanized hip-hop of Dabrye, and the My-Bloody-Valentine-meets-bedroom-IDM experiments of Mike Dykehouse. Not to mention the livewire electronics of Midwest Product, industrial crunch of Kill Memory Crash, abstract tone paintings of Twine, or chilled ambiance of Kiln.

"Nothing makes me more pissed off than willful obscurity, and the elitist underground music scene," Dykehouse says. "It's like art. If Jackson Pollock brought his paintings to a gallery that represented Norman Rockwell, I don't think it would flow. So it's cool to work with someone who's willing to take risks."

The risk-taking began in October 1999 with Hands Up for Detroit, a 12-inch tribute to Detroit house. Fellow U of M student Dear (Valenti met the cultural anthropology major behind the decks at one of those lame but necessary welcome-week parties) collaborated with Disco D on the title track, a syncopated floor-filler of palpitating 4/4 beats and Studio 54 undertones. The out-of-print record sold 700 copies and established the label's local presence among clubs and DJs.

Ghostly seeped into the national scene with the release of Dabrye's One/Three, a pop-locked, icy take on hip-hop instrumentals, and Tadd Mullinix's Winking Makes a Face, which sounds like Autechre raiding the classical section of a Virgin Megastore. Both teased critics and pleased listeners, but Valenti didn't truly infiltrate the mass market until the release of Tangent 2002: Disco Nouveau. The electro collection arrived around the time Valenti received his degree in art history, and along with it came the graduation gift of a four-star review in Rolling Stone. Its tribute to quality proto-disco helped set the standard for the sexy, dark underpinnings of the electro-clash movement. Unfortunately, the scene was DOA, full of vapid vanity casualties who were unable to replicate the fresh sound of singles like Solvent's "My Radio" and Adult's "Nite Life."

"There were some good bands, but no one made a good record," Valenti says. "I met with a few major-label A&R's, who asked me about electro-clash and who was going to be big. I could have cashed in on that hardcore, but to what end, to have the label die by now?"

Aside from stray singles, Valenti has circumvented the key of Nouveau. What began as a boutique electro label has evolved with its artists, especially the forward-thinking pair of Mullinix and Dear. The former has almost as many aliases as Kool Keith, including the aforementioned Dabrye, the curator of dirty techno James Cotton, and the drum 'n' bass maven SK-1.

Valenti met Mullinix at Dubplate Pressure, a record store owned by Ghostly artist Todd Osborne. (Mullinix and Dykehouse still work there in their downtime.) Mullinix handed Valenti a tape of house tracks, and Valenti promised artistic freedom in return.

"I liked his plans, but more importantly, his ambition," Mullinix says. "This was only after one release, but I had faith in his outlook for the label and he gave me creative liberties I saw unlikely elsewhere."

Most Ghostly artists signed for the same reason. Dykehouse left the esteemed IDM imprint Planet Mu because owner Mike Paradinas "wasn't interested in any of that guitar stuff. He has an aesthetic that he wants to portray, and that's cool. I like that each record I make for Ghostly can be completely different, 180-degree shifts. I don't ever want to be caught up in an idea, whether it's shoegazer, IDM or R&B."

Dear has recorded under the name False for Richie Hawtin's Plus 8 label and Jabberjaw for Berlin's Perlon. So, yeah, he's in demand. Yet, he stays with Ghostly because of its expansive vision and Midwest family dynamic.

"In any art form, you need to find other aspects of it that can stimulate you," he says. "I couldn't send weird or guitar-based stuff to another label and feel confident that they'd know what to do with it. Here, if I want to do more vocal or pop-based stuff, I don't have to censor myself."

Dear certainly didn't censor himself at a recent performance at Joe's Pub in New York City. Industry insiders expecting the usual laptop techno set were stunned when he showed up with a sideman (Will Calcutt), microphone and guitar. "Was he a little awkward in front of the mixing desk, clutching the mic stand?" asks John DeCicco, the show's booker. "Sure, a bit, but he's got a very good voice and I think he's been veering toward making what we traditionally refer to as "pop' music lately anyway, so why shouldn't he present himself that way in a live setting?"

Calcutt left his usual Ghostly chores of shooting promo photos and designing record covers behind to man a laptop for Dear. He plans a similar setup on the upcoming tour as well.

"People will dance in clubs to techno," Calcutt says. "However, once it becomes live electronic music, people revert to cool rock rules and only barely acknowledge the beat with the occasional toe tap/head nod. I think that Ghostly sets itself apart by being about the bigger picture. It's not an instant payoff listening to the music. Sure, a lot of the releases can set dancefloors on fire, but it's in the time afterward that the releases really shine."

Dykehouse performed with a full band at the Joe's Pub show, but will revert to his former solo guitar/laptop incarnation on the current tour. He admits that teaching his compositions to others was destined for disaster, but calls the live experience is more fulfilling than the man-behind-the-curtain IDM fare.

"I'm sure the next Boards of Canada album will be great, but hearing it live would be redundant aside from hearing it loud," he says. "I come from an art-school background, so I'd rather confuse people. Not to sound pretentious, but people think punk-rock posturing has to do with haircuts. I can piss people off within five seconds of being onstage, and that's something I relish."

Art and Artifice Tour featuring Matthew Dear, Dabrye, Dykehouse and SV4, Thu., July 15, 10 p.m., $8, Silk City Lounge, Fifth and Spring Garden sts., 800-594-TIXX, www.r5productions.com.