Inigo Kennedy
Gavin Weale speaks to prolific techno producer Inigo Kennedy about his 2001 debut album, The Bigger Picture.
With fifty releases in five years, Inigo Kennedy must be one of the hardest working techno producers in the UK. Since initially hooking up with Karl O'Connor from Downwards, Kennedy's hard-edged sound has evolved through the flurry of 12"s that have appeared on labels like Molecular, Instillation, Morpheus, Exhibit and, of course, Missile, for who he has just released his debut album, The Bigger Picture. He has secured an international reputation as a purveyor of thunderous digital funk – forging raw electronic grooves out of his often-obscure studio equipment – a fact that is reflected in both his productions and his DJ sets. Yet Kennedy retains a fairly modest degree of renown here in the UK.
"I've always been into electronics," he comments. "I was always pissing about with bits and bobs lying around the house – computers, fire alarm systems – so I probably got an interest through that. Then the whole digital keyboard thing came about just as I was getting into it, and I always remember being interested in the stacks of keyboards in the background rather than the singer."
After a boyhood spent taking things apart, Inigo Kennedy recalls an adolescence punctuated by musical epiphanies experienced in his bedroom. "I used to listen to the Radio 1 Rap Show," he explains. "Then I started getting more and more into the electronic side of it, which is why I liked Mantronix. They were landmark records for me. And then Paul Hardcastle blew me away: just in the middle of the hip hop show when they're playing all the old hip hop, and Paul Hardcastle comes on. I'd never heard anything like it before! I just thought, 'How did they make that? I want to make that!"'
Fascination with electronic machinery is a theme that repeats itself through the story of Kennedy's relatively short but intensely busy career. It also goes some way towards explaining the edgy, twisted techno that he spends most of his time concocting in his London studio. He's one of those strange breed of UK techno producers who, as a DJ, achieve a low-key presence at home but will regularly be rocking the pants off of thousands of people in various worldwide cities. He's constantly in the studio crafting releases (fifty since 1996), regularly touring, and definitely enjoying his ever-advancing musical career, yet rarely gets booked in London. So does it bother him being ignored in his hometown? "I think most people doing what I'm doing in London would say the same thing. Most of the guys living here, I see them at the airport, jetting off somewhere. There are some good clubs here but they always book people from abroad, so it's reciprocal. I go abroad to guest, but here they book their guests from somewhere else. Maybe that's how it works. It doesn't bother me – I just let them get on with it. In a way it's good because it means I can get on with more stuff in the studio."
Kennedy commenced his studio career in his early twenties after being influenced by industrial outfits like Nitzer Ebb, Front 242 and Ministry, although it was the harder techno sound that really grabbed his attention. "In the context of a club it seemed to make more sense – Jeff Mills for example – with people really getting into it. It felt more sociable because the Industrial stuff was quite cold."
Unsuprisingly his first efforts were fairly rough-edged. "It was pretty harsh stuff. I was definitely inspired by early Mills records, quite a lot of the Surgeon sound and with a bit of the industrial edge in there as well. It was really raw – not mastered or anything – just bashed down onto metal cassette." His awakening was the culmination of having some serious dancefloor 'moments' while studying in Manchester: "You'd get people like Dave [Clarke] turning up and playing early Jeff Mills stuff and it really opened my eyes – the whole energy of it. I was there totally straight, just off my head on the music."
Going on to record for Karl O'Connor's Zet (where he also met Umek), before meeting Brenda Russell and then Tim Taylor of Missile Records, Kennedy's music is often tarred with the 'hard' brush: a condition where people seem unable accept a producer is capable of making anything but hi-octane dancefloor tracks. This goes some way to explaining the wider scope he has achieved with his recent debut album on Missile. "I suppose there's a few tracks on there that aren't like what I've done in the past, and it's why I called it The Bigger Picture, he explains. "Most of my releases in the past have been club orientated, so it's been a chance to showcase different things that I can do, or that I have done. That's really what it is about for me. I've been making that different sound all the time, so it's just what people haven't heard. I've got feelings too! Even I have early mornings!"
What the album can't disguise, however, is the warped sonic graffiti that fizzles its way insidiously through Kennedy's productions – frequencies tweaked and modulated to their outer limits. So with that technical fascination, is it possible he's been fiddling around under the bonnet, so to speak? "I haven't necessarily customised my machines, but I think maybe I use machines that other people who do this kind of music don't necessarily go for. I know there's a lot of guys out there buying 909s and so on, but I've always been interested in the things that are really hard to program. I'm into that kind of 'experimenting with sound' end of it. I like programming machines! So I've ended up with some bizarre digital synths and maybe that's made a difference. Plus I have made some of my own filters and mixers, which helps because it's something that other people don't use." Also of note is the sheer speed with which he produces his tracks, keeping the creative process as a strictly solitary pursuit: "I haven't done too many collaborations. I find it quite difficult because I work very fast, and know exactly what I want in my own head. I don't really want to slow down and explain it to anyone; it would be a bit of a compromise. I might change my mind someday!"
For the moment though, the plans veer more towards developing his own label, Asymmetric, taking his sound to new places (ie Brazil), and waiting to gauge reaction to The Bigger Picture. If it goes well, we may well see Kennedy tapping into that softer side of his psyche that he let slip on certain of the album's tracks. For the meantime, however, it's dark, digital funk all the way.
"I've always been into electronics," he comments. "I was always pissing about with bits and bobs lying around the house – computers, fire alarm systems – so I probably got an interest through that. Then the whole digital keyboard thing came about just as I was getting into it, and I always remember being interested in the stacks of keyboards in the background rather than the singer."
After a boyhood spent taking things apart, Inigo Kennedy recalls an adolescence punctuated by musical epiphanies experienced in his bedroom. "I used to listen to the Radio 1 Rap Show," he explains. "Then I started getting more and more into the electronic side of it, which is why I liked Mantronix. They were landmark records for me. And then Paul Hardcastle blew me away: just in the middle of the hip hop show when they're playing all the old hip hop, and Paul Hardcastle comes on. I'd never heard anything like it before! I just thought, 'How did they make that? I want to make that!"'
Fascination with electronic machinery is a theme that repeats itself through the story of Kennedy's relatively short but intensely busy career. It also goes some way towards explaining the edgy, twisted techno that he spends most of his time concocting in his London studio. He's one of those strange breed of UK techno producers who, as a DJ, achieve a low-key presence at home but will regularly be rocking the pants off of thousands of people in various worldwide cities. He's constantly in the studio crafting releases (fifty since 1996), regularly touring, and definitely enjoying his ever-advancing musical career, yet rarely gets booked in London. So does it bother him being ignored in his hometown? "I think most people doing what I'm doing in London would say the same thing. Most of the guys living here, I see them at the airport, jetting off somewhere. There are some good clubs here but they always book people from abroad, so it's reciprocal. I go abroad to guest, but here they book their guests from somewhere else. Maybe that's how it works. It doesn't bother me – I just let them get on with it. In a way it's good because it means I can get on with more stuff in the studio."
Kennedy commenced his studio career in his early twenties after being influenced by industrial outfits like Nitzer Ebb, Front 242 and Ministry, although it was the harder techno sound that really grabbed his attention. "In the context of a club it seemed to make more sense – Jeff Mills for example – with people really getting into it. It felt more sociable because the Industrial stuff was quite cold."
Unsuprisingly his first efforts were fairly rough-edged. "It was pretty harsh stuff. I was definitely inspired by early Mills records, quite a lot of the Surgeon sound and with a bit of the industrial edge in there as well. It was really raw – not mastered or anything – just bashed down onto metal cassette." His awakening was the culmination of having some serious dancefloor 'moments' while studying in Manchester: "You'd get people like Dave [Clarke] turning up and playing early Jeff Mills stuff and it really opened my eyes – the whole energy of it. I was there totally straight, just off my head on the music."
Going on to record for Karl O'Connor's Zet (where he also met Umek), before meeting Brenda Russell and then Tim Taylor of Missile Records, Kennedy's music is often tarred with the 'hard' brush: a condition where people seem unable accept a producer is capable of making anything but hi-octane dancefloor tracks. This goes some way to explaining the wider scope he has achieved with his recent debut album on Missile. "I suppose there's a few tracks on there that aren't like what I've done in the past, and it's why I called it The Bigger Picture, he explains. "Most of my releases in the past have been club orientated, so it's been a chance to showcase different things that I can do, or that I have done. That's really what it is about for me. I've been making that different sound all the time, so it's just what people haven't heard. I've got feelings too! Even I have early mornings!"
What the album can't disguise, however, is the warped sonic graffiti that fizzles its way insidiously through Kennedy's productions – frequencies tweaked and modulated to their outer limits. So with that technical fascination, is it possible he's been fiddling around under the bonnet, so to speak? "I haven't necessarily customised my machines, but I think maybe I use machines that other people who do this kind of music don't necessarily go for. I know there's a lot of guys out there buying 909s and so on, but I've always been interested in the things that are really hard to program. I'm into that kind of 'experimenting with sound' end of it. I like programming machines! So I've ended up with some bizarre digital synths and maybe that's made a difference. Plus I have made some of my own filters and mixers, which helps because it's something that other people don't use." Also of note is the sheer speed with which he produces his tracks, keeping the creative process as a strictly solitary pursuit: "I haven't done too many collaborations. I find it quite difficult because I work very fast, and know exactly what I want in my own head. I don't really want to slow down and explain it to anyone; it would be a bit of a compromise. I might change my mind someday!"
For the moment though, the plans veer more towards developing his own label, Asymmetric, taking his sound to new places (ie Brazil), and waiting to gauge reaction to The Bigger Picture. If it goes well, we may well see Kennedy tapping into that softer side of his psyche that he let slip on certain of the album's tracks. For the meantime, however, it's dark, digital funk all the way.
