For those who do not want to read a long-legged, gas-powered, self-important raveup simply know this:
We at Magnetic have been around long enough to know better than anyone what in electronic is good. We are going to give you a weekly tear-down and re-construction of the Beatport charts. We are Always right. You. Me. We.
For those of you with both brains, excellent sex organs and… a bit more time on your hands:
There was a time, in the ’90s, when people were excited about electronic, SPIN had heralded it as a paradigm inexorable. In Spain DJs were ferried about in hot pink, block-long limos and had their own brand of airline, in France young children were required to get tattoos of their parents’ favorite label on their buttocks and the UKs’ Paul Oakenfold received a knighthood. Stateside, we in the music journalism core began to get excited. Genre-specific magazines sprang up, rumors of new and prestigious awards specifically aimed at EDM circulated, Oprah came out against it and the Crystal Method’s "Busy Child" ran on the soundtrack on every movie in 1999—things were going swimmingly. Then… the fall. The bellows of praise turned into the sound of lonely crickets. Less an actual fall than a forgetting-by-degrees. There was no event, no announcement. But sales began to slump, publications collapsed, producers were mothballed and DJ Keoki, after being coaxed down from several ledges became an accountant in Orange County.
And then, all of a sudden, in 2009, magic. Real. Magic. It truth t’was the product of an elaborate spell woven and invoked by Adolfo, M. von Pfeiffer’s midget manservant and I. We had spent the summer in the library in Istanbul researching the arcane and forbidden, listing, cross-referencing and testing found recipes for holistic success via the occult until… one actually worked. Our successes started small at first, and grew. Electric Daisy Carnival pulled higher numbers than Cochella, deadmau5 sold out back-to-back shows at the Hollywood Palladium, Trent Reznor won an Oscar and we couldn’t hide any longer. David Ireland and Rob Simas decided to tap dance together once again, and Magnetic was born… and here we are all. The field of talent is wide and ever-widening. There is much to discover, much to critique. Together, via Magnetic’s RE-Beatport, you and I will celebrate the excellent and bake the asshole music into a worthless goulash to be bludgeoned over the fetid anvil of failure.
As with anything enjoying unfettered success in a capitalistic society they’ll be more than a handful of spiritless, party-wrecking and love-shorn degenerates who, via cash-generated connections and kickbacks, will attempt to lash themselves to the hull, cash in on the booty, the fame, the fun and frolics. But our party ship is not for them, to mix metaphors, their ponies will be weak and easily spottable and we will put them into the earth in the spirit of peace. Together. They’ll be plenty of surprises along the way, occasionally we’ll be joined by some of my more interesting friends, names you’ve heard before, names you’ve not. So quit baking cookies, and stop by more often. This is crucial to the continued existence of mankind. And really, what else better do you have to do?
Let us pray,
Piano and string instruments. Not seen every single day in the context of house, but like chocolate and peanut butter they go great together, you’ve got to work hard to fuck them up. And out of Deutschland, Shir Khan—the man behind the curtain here—keeps it simple-jazzy and unassuming. Not heavy, but hefty, and swung with a light touch. Good in moments when you’ve escaped for a bit—or somehow convinced everyone to shut the hell up.
Magnetic rank:#1 | Beatport rank: #9
House of the week. Chuckie’s got a good hand on his tech and soul in his meat. So good, in fact, I’ve got my meat in my… bah.
Magnetic rank: #2 | Beatport rank: #10
Taking Jim Morrison lyrics and setting them against aerobicize beats AND dropping the “g” in your title? Fuck it. You’re winning.
Magnetic rank: #3 | Beatport rank: #6
Chillin’. Yep, I myself am now goin’ wit the no “g.” This track keeps its head down, hands in-pocket and movin’. My man Stu knows what time it is in the bedroom. Ugly time.
Magnetic rank: #4 | Beatport rank: #8
Yea. This may be the music Darth Vader puts on when he does his Tuesday night crank calls, but we’ve got Chemical Brothers bastardization going inside. I flipped a coin to decide whether I’d walk away impressed or offended and it landed on an edge, vertical. Nuff’ said.
Magnetic rank: #5 | Beatport rank: #2
Well, it’s Ultra. His name is Wolfgang and it’s on Ultra. You figure it out. Sleek, but somehow hairy. What I’m saying is that Ultra has always been a little metrosexual, and that’s not a bad thing, I just can't get with "those" types of listeners, waxing their body hair...and pumping out to music by a guy named “Wolfgang.” It’s just not wholesome, Call me superficial, call me old-fashioned, “…call me Mr. Vain (call me insane).” Yeah I went there. Look it up. Magnetic rank: #6 | Beatport rank: #4
“You can’t stop me. No. Non. No. Oh. Oh,” Sounds like she’s boosting up to take care of some cosmic shit here. I was excited off the bat. WE were gonna get it done. Together. But you can have all the epic reach, the soaring intentions in the universe and have it given away by a crap-sounding snare drum. Why the snare? You just ain’t breaking down and walls, not falling in love for the first time, not saving your planet from destruction with a snare drum in the background. I thought I’d wrote a law keeping snares where they belong, in sleazy Vegas stand-up clubs to illustrate a bad punch line. Inga, my buxom Swedish secretary will make it so by the ‘morrow.
Magnetic rank: #7 | Beatport rank: #5
I heard this last week when I was in Abercrombie and Fitch where the guy whose penny loafers I’d sworn a blood oath to spray paint had chosen (in a last-ditch and lilting effort) to hide. There are a lot of folks given production credit here, so I’m not sure whom to blame...So I found the guy with the loafers and made him pay. Again. This time it was his braided leather belt™ (with genuine leather, embossed moose detail™, vintage metal buckle and classic fit) which suffered traumatic alteration); but, I paid him the $17 for a new one, my therapy is satisfied for the week and we’re good. Happy times.
Magnetic rank: #8 | Beatport rank: #1
Chris Kaeser, Sven Kirchhof, Max’C, Redd Nose “She’s Playing On U” (Sven Kirchhof Remix) In & Out Recordings
Sven, Sven, Sven. What did I tell you about abbreviating pronouns? She's playing "U?" You know readers, funny thing, I met... Sven at Jordan Knight’s SMS-themed birthday party and can that dude kill a wine cooler!?!? LOL. ROLFLMAO? Fuck.
Magnetic rank: #9 | Beatport rank: #3
Yeah. No. Does your high school track team need a theme song?
Magnetic rank: #10 | Beatport rank: #7
Go get your popcorn at 3:00. But be back and belted in at 4:15. Hardwell is rumored to be an above-average producer. Unfortunately, I heard this rumor via MTV’s Clublandand had sent a hit squad for him—as is customary in such instances. After today, though, I’ve recalled my goons and have shared cigars with my man. This track has three acts 1, 2, 3—akin to the structure of a classical tragedy. Sadly, it also has in common with Shakespearean drama the hero with a tragic flaw. In our case here it is Hardwell… and his hair.
Magnetic rank: #11 | Beatport rank: gone from last week