“We were definitely the lucky ones who switched the minimal sound, which was big for four years, to more groovy and deep stuff again,” the German says. It’s a fair assessment. The minimal years were characterised by sombreness and a certain amount of apathy for the dance floor. In contrast, the artists on 8bit – and other Mannheim-based labels – ply a sound that’s locomotive and playful, characterised by short, catchy loops. “We added more organic house and percussion elements and vocal snippets to the music,” Waldmann says. “Music hype is always like that. Someone tries something new and it gets big. After a while a lot of people produce the same sound and it gets boring again after two or three years.”
But why Mannheim? Despite just 300,000 citizens, it’s managed to develop an international identity where big cities like Frankfurt or Munich have fallen short. “This doesn’t depend on the city,” Waldmann says. “It’s always a group of people sharing their studios, parties and the music they like, and this could happen in every city in the world.” Perhaps, but the fact is that most of the time, cities fail to differentiate themselves from their neighbours. Something else had to be at play. In the case of Waldmann and Curly, that thing was undoubtedly 8bit, which they started even though Plastic City had already been a force in Mannheim for ten years. “We wanted to release our own stuff and build our own brand with some of our friends involved,” Waldmann says. “We were sick of signing a release to a label and it took them eight months to release it.” In contrast, he says 8bit’s artists wait a maximum of eight weeks. In the fickle, fast-moving world of house and techno, such rapid turnaround can only have contributed to the label’s success. Indeed, it echoes the story of Zara, the Spanish clothing chain who claim to develop and stock new items within just two weeks, rather than the six-month industry standard.
His other label, which opened in ’09, is different. For one, Curly isn’t part of it. “Katchuli Records is my little baby,” he says. “I’m not putting out so many releases and the sound is different from 8bit.” But the focus remains on working with friends; a tactic which has seen many labels flourish over the years. “I’m not using big remixes to establish the label,” he says. “I’m trusting more in strong originals to build the brand of the label. This might take more time, but in the end it’s better for the artists and for the label.” Despite these available platforms, he continues to release his own productions on a myriad of other imprints. “I can’t say no when people I know very well ask me to release something on their label,” he says. “I’m changing this at the moment. There’s two EPs ready for 8bit and Katchuli, and I’m working on something new for [Jimpster’s] Freerange later this year.”
All this success does have a price, however. Waldmann says he receives around 200 to 250 promos per week. “I can only check 30% of them,” he confesses. “Even if I could [check more], I wouldn’t want to.” For the most part, this reluctance stems from his innate old-school attitude. “In my DJ life, I always tried to select good, timeless music for my sets,” he says. “The more music I received and finally put in my case, the worse my sets got.” These days, he says, the turnover is too fast, and punters don’t have long enough to savour each particular hit. Such sentiments are to be expected from someone who’s been DJing since ’93, and lived through the scene’s immense upheavals. “The DJ was playing all kinds of electronic music,” he says of the ‘90s. “One dance floor the whole night, starting with house and ending up with breaks or trance.” Now, he says, things have become far more specific, tastes too narrow. But despite this impediment, Waldmann continues to emulate the diversity of his memories. “I’m always trying to tell a story with my music and not just pushing people to the maximum using a lot of effects and stuff,” he says. “I love using long breaks to transport a special vibe in my music. I use melodies, but not too many to make them sound cheesy.”
BY NICK CONNELLAN
