Charlie May Live at the Barbican for Sasha’s Refracted Tour
Few artists have left as significant a mark on electronic music as Charlie May. From the formative days of UK electronic music as one half of Spooky, to his longstanding creative partnership with Sasha and his pivotal role in records such as Xpander, to his releases here on ASIP as part of Quiet Places. Charlie has been responsible for some of the genre's most significant moments - and many of my own personal favorites.
Charlie’s latest album here on ASIP, Trusted Farms, provides us with yet another small glimpse into his beautiful mind. The album marks his first solo album on vinyl, bringing together a collection of beatless compositions, some of which have been quietly taking shape for more than a decade. Trusted Farms reveals the melodic instincts, experimentation and unmistakable production touch that have defined his work for so many years, boiled down into a succinct and emotionally charged 12”.
Getting to know Charlie through this release, there's a certain humility that feels increasingly rare; an artist responsible for some of electronic music's most celebrated moments, yet one who has always seemed perfectly content to remain behind the scenes, letting the music speak for itself.
It's therefore a real pleasure to bring Charlie into the spotlight for a small moment, and share the words, stories and insights of someone who has been such an inspiration to us over the years.
ASIP: I wanted to start at the start… with Spooky. But I don’t think there’s much detail before then out in the world. So, who was Charlie May before Spooky?
Charlie May: Duncan and I grew up together so we had been mucking about in bands for years prior to forming Spooky. Obviously the arrival of acid house had a huge impact on us. I had always been into music, taping things off the radio. Singing in school choirs. I learned the piano from age 4 and started improvising and making my own music soon after. I used to mess about with 2 cassette decks, recording between them and overdubbing parts. I still find that process fascinating - the way that two or more musical parts or sounds combine.
One reason I got into music in a big way was due to being sent away to boarding school when I was eight - music was a big part of the curriculum but also an escape. This is a long time ago before the advent of even the Sony Walkman. I still remember the first time I put on a pair of headphones and heard stereo sound. It blew my mind. Truly a transcendent experience. So I heard and performed quite a lot of choral and classical music, often in spaces with great acoustics. Now i just dial up a plug-in to get the same effect. Every bit of free time I had I would sneak off to the music rooms and mess about on the piano. Eventually forming bands which was frowned upon in those days. I still feel a sense of rebellion going into the studio to make music. I aspire to upset grown-ups to this day.
When people talk about early Spooky now, there’s inevitably a historical importance attached to it. An evolving scene/genre, defining albums and remixes that I’m still digging out of old compilations today. How would you best describe this time of your life and your fondest memories?
We were extremely blessed to have been a part of the early wave of house and techno in the UK. Right when the technology became affordable enough to make records at home. It was a diy punk ethic. So many factors came together to create this highly vibrant and creative scene. It was certainly heady and I remember being carried along by the collective energy. We worked hard at it but it wasn’t really work. So much talent was concentrated into this small scene which spread all over the world. Looking back it seems dreamlike. Being young meant having the energy and stamina to go the distance too, so 3 day studio sessions with little sleep were completely fine. There was no hard disk recording, no mobile phones and no internet. Yet this futuristic music was everywhere. It was in many ways far simpler than today. At the time I thought it would last forever and in some ways that has turned out to be true. I certainly enjoy making music as much if not more today. Everything changes subtly and then one day you look back and think ‘how did that all happen’ ? It was a blast for sure. I try not to forget how pure and uplifting those times were, also a bit rough around the edges. Unlike today it felt truly anarchic, there was no one in charge telling you what you could or could not do or say.
You’ve made a return with Duncan lately, and a new album this year titled Lucent, as well as energy around remix EPs from the likes of Alex Kassian. I think many Charlie May fans will know you have been busy behind the scenes and probably never stopped creating music for many years now, but what spurred this desire lately to put out new releases?
Pure coincidence really - it just happens that way sometimes. Both Duncan and I have been doing our own thing as well as occasional Spooky tracks for years. He has his label 49 North and various collaborative projects. I put out quite a few releases on Bandcamp as well as doing remixes. Writing mainly. I try and write some music every day.
How much do you allow the history of Spooky into the room? Are the old records useful reference points, or are they something you deliberately avoid looking towards?
It’s great that as time goes on the early tunes get new leases of life through a younger audience and dj’s discovering them or through remixes / re releases. It’s important to curate the story and protect what happened when. Other than that we don’t dwell on the past. I always want to try something new in the studio - see where it leads. Electronic music is truly boundless and that sense of anything is possible is a reason to continually move onto fresh turf.
One of the things I’m sure took up a bunch of your time was Sasha’s Refracted tour. I wanted to first say, the recording of that at the Barbican, and the live video is, to me, a defining moment in electronic music. I was gutted to not see it live, but living vicariously through the recordings is enough to give me goosebumps each time. Reflecting back on this and your key role within it all, how do you feel about it now you’ve had a few years away from it?
It was quite an experience for all of us - especially for a bunch of studio rats not used to performing live. It was tough going at times but because of the people involved we managed to produce something special I think. I loved the shows and would jump at the chance to do something similar again. When it all comes together and the music finally gets played to an audience there’s a welcome sense of completion. But we were blessed to be a great team of people. I think that’s the most important ingredient.
Can you tell us a bit about the process of reconstructing dance music for this type of setting? And why you think it worked so well?
We took the approach that there were to be no laptops or computers on stage - so everything had to be played with hardware or real instruments. Which is obviously quite a tough route to take but it paid off in the end. The whole show was painstakingly built from the ground up. It took a while and there were constant changes and adjustments. We had to learn new tricks along the way. When you have someone like Barry Jamieson on board who can solve any technical issue, plus a top tier monitor engineer and stage manager to keep law and order it raises the potential of what the collective can achieve considerably.
“I put hours of effort into trying to be a good producer but in the end the best results are graft accidents.”
I would kick myself for not taking this opportunity to ask you for your story on Xpander. Of course, you were instrumental in the development of that EP, but can you tell us in your own words how it came about and the relationship that developed with Sasha after?
It started life as a track in the Spooky live show when we were touring with Megadog. It was more of a breakbeat vibe but we couldn’t get it to gel in the studio so it got put on the shelf. Fast forward about 5 years and I met up with Sasha who asked if had anything useful lying around that we might work on. I remembered I had this riff on an old DAT tape and played him that. He got very excited and that enthusiasm breathed new life into it. I think the moral of the story is record everything and don’t throw anything away in case someone else has a better idea. After that we just kept working together as we were on the same page. We did Belfunk as a result of messing about with Orbital’s Belfast. You can never really tell how things are going to work out.
There’s a temptation with a record as revered as Xpander to assume everybody involved knew they were making something important. What did it feel like in the room at the time? Was it painstaking, exciting, ordinary, frustrating?
The whole Xpander process stretched out over a period of time. There were a few attempts at mixing it that I remember. Then there was the Wipeout version. We knew it was strong musically but that’s only half the battle. So it was a bit of a rollercoaster. A lot of tracks end up driving you nuts at times. When it was done we knew it was finished. Can’t ask for more than that really.
Do you remember the smallest decision on Xpander that ended up making the biggest difference?
Probably the decision not to go to the boozer / curry house for once and actually continue working instead.
Dennis and Dave of Quiet Places were a part of the Refracted tour playing live alongside you. Is it fair to say that was the early seeds of the Quiet Places project, in so far as you working closer together and understanding each other musically?
For sure - we started Quiet Places as a way to decompress from the punishment of the live shows. It was a natural reaction to want to make new music that was very free floating and unrestricted. Hence we decided on two rules : no grid and no beats. I very much enjoy making those albums - the process is therapeutic, except for Dennis who has to clean up everyone’s audio mess and make it sound like an actual record.
We know about the formation of Quiet Places and the many whiskey-fuelled jam sessions that spawned those deep trips. I feel like this format of long form albums is really under-appreciated, but for those that get it… they really get it. In today’s ‘Spotify age’ of previews and playlisting, these albums completely buck the trend. What are your thoughts on this approach you’ve undertaken with Quiet Places? Do you see the act of listening to long form more like a chill-out room experience? Or is it the storytelling aspect, through samples etc?
A record like that can function in different ways - as a backdrop to some other activity or post club winding down. Or it can be music to drift off to. Or taken in its entirety as a story, like a movie.
I have recently trained myself to sit down and listen to albums from beginning to end without pause or distraction. It has to be played on a quality system, then your brain receives every detail and nuance. It’s a very different experience that ends up being transcendent and nourishing. We have become accustomed to skimming over the surface of a rich culture and missing out on so much.
A 40 minute album can literally change your life for the better if given the appropriate attention.
Charlie May live at the Barbican for Sasha’s Refracted Tour
In the Trusted Farms album notes, we talk about you being great at writing short phrases and riffs that become inseparable from the track around them. And the evidence out in the world is clear that you’re brilliant at it. Where does that instinct come from — playing, repetition, sound choice, classical training, experimentation, or simply knowing when you’ve stumbled onto something?
Making any art is mud slinging, then clearing away what isn’t necessary until you like it. Then sling some more mud. I put hours of effort into trying to be a good producer but in the end the best results are graft accidents. I do think those chance events and the chances of them occurring are increased by showing up regularly. Also breaking old habits and getting out of your own way. Having lots of ideas is great but that’s a long way from a finished record. I like finishing records but that’s also the part I find challenging and have to have a little bit of luck go into the mix. Also I make heaps of crap - masses of it. That doesn’t matter. Some of the best results start off as rubbish.
You have said in the album notes that working alone is only possible because of the collaborations you’ve been involved with. Who taught you something in the studio that permanently changed the way you work?
Everyone I’ve worked with has taught me something I didn’t know. Even people I have worked with for years are still full of surprises. I remember very early on being in the studio with William Orbit and being blown away by his talent and technique. He was the original studio wizard that inspired so many of us when we were starting out doing this stuff. He wasn’t in a fancy studio being fluffed up by minions and technical staff. He was doing it all by himself in the front room of his house and it sounded unbelievable. He wasn’t afraid to destroy what he’d just created and play it backwards at half speed to see if that worked better.
William was obviously a very sad and big loss this year. Hundreds if not thousands of us are probably revisiting your (Spooky) remix of Water On A Vine Leaf as part of the Northern Exposure reissue in the last few weeks - a reminder of your symbiosis together as label and remixer and a milestone moment. How was he as a label owner? What did he do in those early years to set you up for success?
William was really a silent partner in Guerilla, most of the day to day was covered by Dick O’Dell and Karen Howarth. Although his influence was obviously felt musically in terms of the label output. Many of the releases passed through his Guerilla Studio in Crouch End at some point. His technique in the studio influenced many of the artists on Guerilla at that time. We were pretty much left to do what we wanted - a few singles and then someone suggested doing an album so we kept going. It was all fairly loose. Just a great roster.
Guerilla shared an office with Loud and Clear and Hard Hands and the Darling Department so there was always plenty going on in terms of DJ’s, clubs and record promotion.
“Electronic music is truly boundless and that sense of anything is possible is a reason to continually move onto fresh turf.”
Some people might call Trusted Farms an ambient album because it’s beatless. But it feels to me like unlocking a special treasure trove of melodies and moments from one of electronic music’s best producers - vignettes of hidden chapters. What does this album mean to you in the grand scale of your career? What milestone, if any, does it represent?
It’s my first album release on vinyl which is cool - I’m not sure why it’s taken me so long to get that together ?! I’m not one for self promotion so I end up with stacks of unreleased music and no label. Hopefully I can start compiling and releasing some of this beat-less work now as 40 minute albums.
I know it’s like choosing a favorite child, but is there one track from the album that stands out for a specific reason in its production, or meaning?
Not really ! Hopefully the record flows well and makes sense as a whole. I like that some of the tracks started life years ago. Copper Beech is at least ten years old. Also that a track like ‘Just Nerves’ is played live from beginning to end in one take. I had this great sound going through a guitar amp so hit record and played it. That sort of thing doesn’t happen very often.
Can you tell us a bit about what you envisioned for the artwork for this album and what it means to you in its final form from Peter?
With artwork I know what I don’t like more than what I like which hopefully means I am open to discovering something new. I didn’t want a loud sleeve but rather something to compliment the black vinyl. Apparently there a few loose turquoise vinyl versions out there which is cool. When you showed me Peter’s work I immediately knew it was perfect for this record.
In a previous interview you talked about the need to scratch an existential itch and your music representing the edge & bittersweetness of life. Where does Trusted Farms with this ambition?
I really do spout utter rubbish sometimes .. I mean making records is therapeutic so it serves a medicinal purpose. I think the making of and listening to music is so subjective that it can’t really be pinned down. It does help make sense of the human condition and provides a common language of sorts to that end. It’s not meant to be entirely figured out otherwise where’s the fun and the mystery. With Trusted Farms it wasn’t really until it was finished that i thought ok now it has a function and purpose. I hope that it makes people feel good afterwards, like a decent meal. Not the grandest but nutritious nonetheless.
And for aspiring producers out there looking to come even somewhere close to what you have achieved over the years, what piece of advice would you offer them?
Stay true to yourself, don’t feel you have to fit in anywhere. Play to your strengths even if they seem insignificant at first. There’s a magic that comes into play with music making. You just have to keep showing up, especially when it’s shit.
~
Charlie May / Trusted Farms is available now.
Listen to Charlie’s isolatedmix from 2020.
