Guy Schwegler: You are a co-founder of Bala Club. How did that come about? And do you have a special role within the collective?
Endgame: We were all hanging out and doing parties and making music, and I guess it was just a way to put a name to what we were doing. It made sense to call it something, to invent our own thing and create a scene where there wasn’t one already. We all felt quite alienated from the club scene in London. This why we were all like, “we need something of our own.” We wanted it on our own terms without having to fit into someone else’s idea of what club music is. Bala Club started out with just a few of us. Over time it has grown and evolved. There aren’t specific roles or anything. With our compilation we tried to show what we’re all about—even if not all the people on it were strictly part of the collective. Everyone can give input.
Léonard Vonlanthen: What was it exactly that was missing in dance music (or other scenes) and that led you to start your own thing?
EG: There was a lack of vulnerability and emotion in dance music. There was no space for weird stuff that didn’t fit in. Especially in grime nights it can become quite macho and far removed from what we are about and from the environment we want to be in. I wanted a space where anyone can do anything and everyone is welcome.
GS: Recently I became quite obsessed with reggaeton. I understand Bala Club as one of the most visible signs of a general trend towards reggaeton throughout various scenes. Would you agree with that?
EG: Yeah. Initially that was definitely a lot of what we were playing in the clubs and what inspired the first release of our Blaze Kidd mixtape [Exclusivo]. We were writing beats for that and it made sense, but we were never trying to fit into a certain reggaeton genre. Reggaeton was only part of the inspiration. We were making it as a South American type of thing, but using London sounds. Since then it has kind of shifted to something more influenced by the new wave of rap music in the US.
LV: Where does the fascination with reggaeton or Brazilian funk come from? Do you have a lot of Brazilian friends or colleagues? Or have you visited South or Central America?
EG: Kamixlo and some others grew up with that music, so it was always very natural for them. And I was super influenced by them. I’ve also spent a lot of time in Jamaica—my dad lived there for a long time. And it’s funny because the music scene there I find very difficult to keep track of remotely. The only way to really understand it is to be there. The output of that country is fucking insane. My interest in Brazilian funk came mainly from DJing—the energy in it as dance music is kind of next-level. It’s the hardest shit I can find. That’s what I’m into: energy. If I hear shit that’s hard as fuck, I play it—it doesn’t matter where it’s from or who made it, even if it’s some Soundcloud producer with like ten followers. It’s changing slightly now, but the beauty of Soundcloud is that it’s an unfiltered chronological feed. You get shit as soon as it comes out. There’s no one saying that this one is better than the other one. You just hear it as it comes.
LV: Soundcloud is a limitless resource.
EG: Yeah. That’s why to me it’s the most exciting time that there’s ever been for music. The way that sounds travel, and the way people can collaborate—it’s fucking amazing and inspiring to me. We’re living in the future, in a way—that’s what keeps things fresh and exciting. That’s why it’s so crazy that anyone would play only one genre of music and be like, “this is me.” I don’t know, I find that whole attitude kind of dry, and it’s not relevant to me, actually. The world isn’t like that. It’s messy and there are people from everywhere. Music should reflect the messiness of the world.
LV: Has a funkeiro or a reggaetonera ever come up to you or gotten in contact with you because of the music you produce?
EG: Honestly, I think those scenes are too good. The producers, the MCs—they’re too on point…the shit they’re doing there is like ten times better than I could ever attempt. They would probably hear my shit and think it’s like weak as fuck. And the mad thing is that these producers, who’re like nineteen years old and make like ten beats a week, are all fucking amazing but no one gives a shit because it’s impossible to sell over here. And they don’t really care because they are already stars in Brazil.
LV: Yeah, I had to think about bossa nova. Back in the days, in the 60s, all the Americans came in and it became ‘their’ thing. The guys from Rio and stuff, where it started, got pushed out. But with the funk thing, for example, that obviously won’t happen because they are already superstars…
EG: In a way maybe they want to be big in the USA or whatever, but they don’t need it. I was supposed to play a show with MC Bin Laden in New York, but he couldn’t even enter the country, man. So it’s impossible for those guys. They’re too real, in a way. My friend in Lisbon put me in touch with the people from the Tarraxa Scene and—rightly so—there’s a lot of suspicion from their side. They’re kind of like, “why do you care? This isn’t your scene.” And I totally get that. I wouldn’t to create a scene and feel like someone is trying to exploit it or something. But still, I’m desperate to work with them. And I hope that they see with the music I release, that I’m genuine about it and not just trying to rip them off.
LV: You are kind of opposing the hegemony of dance music in Europe by mixing it with reggaeton and baile funk. At the same time, there is very little electronic music present in Latin America (from what I’ve experienced). Do you think this crossover could lead to a popularization of electronic music in Latin America?
EG: That could be, but a lot of these scenes, especially the funk scene in Brazil, are so good already they don’t need people from London trying to get involved. It’s a bit like the footwork scene in Chicago—suddenly all these UK dudes are doing it too. But it doesn’t mean the same thing. It’s such a specific scene. References are fine, but don’t try to be part of their scene—they’ve got their own thing. Same for us. We are super influenced by them, but we don’t want to be part of any scene other than our own. We want to have our own thing.
GS: There are two ways of looking at it: either it could critically be understood as cultural appropriation or as an acknowledgment of a ‘Latin’ part of the electronic music scene at large.
EG: Cultural appropriation would be the usage of these elements without understanding what they are. That’s what I was getting at with the footwork reference. People weren’t understanding the cultural references of anything—they were just purely ripping a drumbeat or something. I think everything we do with Bala Club is heartfelt and sincere. It’s never ironic. It’s 100% of what we are into. I’m interested in what a London sound is like. It’s interesting because London is the most multicultural place on earth. You have friends from all around the world constantly around you. They influence you and you want to make music that reflects that, rather than trying to block it out and trying to do what is expected.
GS: Do you see other parts of the scene that are making use of similar reference points, such as the tresillo rhythm?
EG: What’s really interesting and lucky about it is that there isn’t really a scene for it. As soon as there is a scene and a name for it and a thing that you can pin point, it takes the energy out. But there are a few people who are starting to work with similar stuff. Moro from Argentina, for instance. And there is the scene from New York called Flex that has been a massive inspiration for me. It’s a mixture between vogue and dancehall and has this super crazy energy, though it has this very slow tempo. It’s trying to do its own thing, too.
GS: Concerning tempo: over the last few years, we’ve seen a lot of different older elements or styles returning to electronic music, like wave, industrial, jungle…but they’re all played at a “techno tempo.” But your stuff (and also lots of the Bala Club stuff) is interesting because it’s quite strictly around 100 bpm.
EG: I think we all had the feeling we wanted to resist doing anything too safe. If we wanted to do 130 bpm club bangers we probably could. And people would probably be into it. But it wouldn’t be fulfilling, somehow. I think it’s more interesting to start something fresh where there isn’t something already. I remember a couple of grime DJs coming up to me and saying, “if we play your shit we’ll play it at 130.” I was like, “that’s such a cop out.” I was kind of disappointed. They weren’t trying hard enough.
GS: Do you see the use of dembow rhythms as something new on the electronic music continuum/ in electronic music?
EG: There are all those crazy things from Lisbon and the suburbs of Paris – Tarraxa and Kizomba. Those are their own things as well. You hear something like that and think, that’s next level and I need that. It’s really emotional music. The way they write melodies reminds me of how people used to write grime melodies back in the day—they’re raw, claustrophobic, and melancholic.
GS: Like XTC’s “Functions On The Low”?
EG: Exactly. That’s it.
LV: So there’s an admiration for scenes elsewhere—in Lisbon, Paris, Rio, etc. It’s interesting to hear that from someone in London since London itself is such a hotspot for so many music scenes, like grime…
EG: Honestly, the grime scene in London is kind of dead. Skepta and Stormzy—these guys are burning up, yeah. But there are really only just a few others. The thing that is really kicking off is the UK drill scene. And to me that’s actually way more fresh-sounding and exciting than beats that have essentially been around for ten or fifteen years. These new guys are taking it to another level. But they find it extremely difficult to cross over and be acknowledged, even in the UK, by mainstream media. Because it’s still so raw. It’s basically how grime used to be. Everybody is kind of ignoring it and in ten years they’re going to be like, “ahh, yeah, that’s amazing.” They should fuck with it now.
GS: I’ve read some reviews of your music and terms like “post-club” or “experimental” show up relatively often. Do you see yourself as an experimental artist? Or what do you see as the central focus or feature of your work?
EG: I don’t know, actually. I wouldn’t say that it’s very experimental in terms of its structure—in that way it’s kind of basic. I guess it’s only experimental in its approach and points of reference. But I wouldn’t say it’s musically experimental. One thing that’s kind of consistent through what I do is my work with vocalists who are unexpected and unusual, like UIK, Organ Tapes and Rules. I don’t ever want to be just a beat producer. Having a vocalist is like having an extra instrument. The ones I work with are all similar in kind of having a wide pool of reference and never trying to be like one thing.
LV: Do you speak Spanish or Portuguese?
EG: Vivi [Uli K] and Kami [Kamixlo] grew up in London, but their parents are Chilean and speak Spanish. And their natural singing voices are in Spanish. Blaze Kidd as well—he came over from Ecuador when he was around twelve, so his natural rapping voice is in Spanish. They explain what stuff means in songs. But I’ve never spoken Spanish, and that’s something that really concerns me. In a weird way, though, I have no clues what Young Thug is saying but I still fuck with it. Do you know what I mean? The emotion comes from somewhere else. And, by the way—his lyrics are fucking amazing, so you actually should read them transcribed. But even before you hear his lyrics you get what he’s saying. It’s the same with Organ Tapes— you barely understand a fucking word he’s saying, but you don’t really need to.
And I don’t want to sound pretentious, but lyrics are only really needed once you understand the music. Listen to any hardcore group. That’s always what I’m kind interested—I want music to move people without them having to think about it too much, or to deconstruct it. It feels so relevant now, because the new generation of rappers are taking this to new extremes and being really experimental with vocals and almost saying nothing in terms of actual lyrical content. But saying so much musically. And it makes the older generation hate it.
GS: It’s interesting that you talk about emotion so much—it seems to be quite important to you. But upon first listening to your music, someone might think, “this is just functional club music.”
EG: I grew up with dance music but also with emo, hardcore, and stuff that is cathartic, I guess. And that’s what I’m into. The thing is that I never want it to be boring—the worst thing would be if someone were to listen to my music and just be indifferent. I’d so much rather that they hate it. Emotions are what make it real, made by a person rather than a machine. You’re using electronic shit to convey something human. It definitely helps to work with a vocalist. That’s what I’m trying to get at with instrumentals—sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Kid D, a grime producer who’s kind of been forgotten, wrote stuff where you understand what he’s thinking. Like Burial. That was always his thing. He never had to say anything.