In Depth: Francois K

In Depth: Francois K

23 December, 2010 | 4.57AM

• Written by: Beatportal
• Filed under: Music News: francois k, melbourne, nye

We feel fortunate today to be able to bring you an extensive interview with the legendary François Kevokian, aka François K, conducted by the Australian television host, writer, and director Ian Buckland—one of the few dance-music journalists still on the scene who, like Francois K, was there at Studio 54 in disco’s heyday.

On December 31, Francois K will be making a rare Australian appearance with FUN NYC MEL NYE at Melbourne’s Fitzroy Street “uber club,” Pretty Please. Supported by Christian Vance, Kaz James, and Feenixpawl, and with admittance strictly limited to only 400 tickets, it promises to be an evening to remember. Check the link for more details, and read on for a fascinating and candid interview with one of dance music’s most iconic figures.

Ian Buckland: I am in an unusual position as I have been to New York’s famed Studio 54, as you may as well been told. Let’s talk about what was it like: the atmosphere that created that exciting nightclub feeling that we now expect, the presentation, the DJs, who were stars for the first time really…

François Kevorkian: I was there in the ‘70s. Not as a DJ. I only played there once or twice after it got closed down. It reopened with the same name but it wasn’t the same crowd anymore. There are only three people who could claim to have DJed around those times and two of them are dead. Actually a few more people but it was very, very little.

I don’t know, I think it was all about money, power, being, if you were allowed, to feel special cause you could rub shoulders with all these people that were “famous.” I personally thought it was ok. But I think that I’m not the kind of person who buys People magazine so I don’t really care that much, to be honest with you.

So you went for the music?

Well, my friend Richie was the DJ (Kaczor) – we all really liked the music he was playing. The parties were great but the music was very commercial. The owner was always making sure that a certain kind of thing was always being played. That it didn’t go too funky or too underground. Similar to many other clubs operating at the same time in NY, they were basically aimed to a very wealthy, affluent jet‐setting crowd. To be honest, I really can’t think of another phenomenon that took place for so little time and took so much of a life of its own. And became so embellished—the light systems were great. The things that were going down on the dancefloor were spectacular. Like when they built the bridge. In ‘77, you wouldn’t have seen it. The moving bridge across the floor. A lot of the props, like the moon with the coke spoon, were great.

I was just trying to release music that was special and music living on its own merit, rather than being artificially propped by this whole other construct, heavy promotion and giving people money to do things.

But, to be honest, people are so star-struck, they’ve blown it up to be something, I really don’t think I can comment on it. I was so unimpressed by it. I did meet a few interesting people but over all, the whole scene was very superficial. Everybody there was either very rich or famous or using somebody to get something out of them. There were very few people that were actually there to enjoy themselves and to sit back and just relax. You could feel this tension in the room. All these people milling about, trying to …. What do you say, the “star f*ckers,” “gold diggers,” a lot of those people but as well as cool people just hanging out. The much better parties were elsewhere, where it was membership only, out of the limelight, never in the press. Celebrities might come but never talked about, very private, very fun, people could let their guard down and have fun.

One thing you have said was that the co-owner, Steve Rubell, that he directed the music…

Of course, it was a great part. Obviously, Richie could play a great deal of what he wanted but then Steve starts saying, “You better play that Blondie song again,” Richie would have to comply and do it. And that would be cause the artist is in the house or he wanted to create a particular kind of mood, or to play certain kinds of music cause it was popular and that was just the way it should be.

Did the commercial club scene affect you with starting your own record label and your career?

I didn’t start a record label until 1996. There was always this dichotomy where part of the club scene was very underground and part of it was really commercial. I really couldn’t say for sure that it affected me either way. It’s a matter of choice when you set up a record label, what kind of product you want to release. Certainly, in my case, I had the various opportunities to sign some big name R&B artists, or very big commercial acts who would need music video support, major touring support, completely out of our budget. If you go for the commercial thing, you really need deep pockets. It was never where I really came from. I was just trying to release music that was special and music living on its own merit, rather than being artificially propped by this whole other construct, heavy promotion and giving people money to do things.

You have that magic thing where you can pick a hit. Where do you think that comes from?

I just get hired to do things by people. If they choose to like the things that I do, then that’s great. I just do what I do. In those days, when records were actually selling, people had budgets, there were recording studios where you went to work, there was a whole ideology built around making music and selling it to people which has now, for all intents and purposes, exploded. But the point I was trying to say, people were hiring me ‘cause of some of the things I had done and they would have heard, after that took place for a while, there might be more of a reputation thing, I don’t know. I’m really unaware of the specific thing that would make people want to ask me to do specific things. I cannot be the judge and the jury. So I never consciously did anything either way, I just did what I felt was the right vibe, the right groove.

Most times they were never there, they just send me the tapes, just do it. Sometimes there were there. Sometimes they were there and it didn’t all go smoothly. Because they had a very specific vision on how it was going to go, and the reason they hired me was be cause they did not have that specific vision, to let me do what I was doing. At times I collaborated with people where it worked, like with Kraftwerk. We had a natural chemistry, and now a friendship as a result that lasts ‘til today. Other people, I got the sense that they were just hiring me for a trend. Just ‘cause my name was hot. Although my name was on the record, they didn’t want it to sound outside of what they wanted to get as a result. There were really all kinds.

It’s the reverence we all have for these pop stars; it’s difficult for you as the producer to say, ‘You know, Mick, I don’t think it’s so great, can you try it again?’

I’ll go through a couple of the names you’ve worked with, if you could tell me how it was to work with them. The Eurythmics?

I never met them. They just sent the tapes. I met Annie Lennox once, before then.

Diana Ross?

Yeah, she was great. I met her a couple of times, she came to the studio. She was very happy to let me do my thing. She was a very classy lady, very professional.

Mick Jagger?

Sometimes he just let me do what I wanted, but sometimes he wanted to get involved in the creative side, change vocals, or make a suggestion. On one of the remixes, we actually did some rehearsals together, did a lot of production; he wanted me to hire some background vocalists, got more involved than a remix, it became a production. And it was the usual way of production, you worked together.

Mick, he’s a real pro. The only thing is difficult with these kinds of people is telling them, “No, that wasn’t good, you’ll need to do it again.” I think a lot of times it’s the reverence we all have for these pop stars, it’s difficult for you as the producer to say, “You know, Mick, I don’t think it’s so great, can you try it again?” It’s not the easiest thing to do. But we’d find ways to say, “It was great, but maybe you could try with more attitude on this word, could you listen back and say if you were ok with it?” As long as you were precise, you could get Mick to re‐sing things if necessary. And they would try hard to work with the producer because that’s why they hired them. And we had a great time.

Midnight Oil?

Oh, they were so professional. That was amazing. I had never worked with a band, I mean that was like production. So one remix I was sent a tape, that was “The Power and the Passion,” but another time was in the studio, and they flew me over. Obviously these guys play live every day of the week, so once they got into the studio, it was like, what guitar sound do you want, what does the snare drum sound like… You know, most of the songs were cut in one take or two takes, it was miraculous. That’s what you get when you go in with a working live band: there’s no fuss, no mucking about, they just get down to business. And with Pete Garrett, his vocals, every vocalist is getting pretty particular about the kind of vocals that they want and the performance that they want, but compared to my other experiences in working in producing bands, Midnight Oil were as pleasant as you wish anyone to be, and we did everything in such record time. In some sessions, we’d cut two or three tracks a day at least. I wish every session was like that.

Early background: in France, you were a drummer. Do you think that was crucial to your understanding of how the beat should go?

I took lessons for piano, guitar, other instruments, but I just think I naturally gravitated towards playing the drums. It just seemed natural, it’s in my blood. You may be rationalising it more than I ever did; I just did it cause it felt good. Felt like the thing I wanted to do it, not ‘cause my marketing department made a conscious effort analysis after doing focus group studies that that would be the best thing for me to do. No, it was not like that. It was … it felt right. Just the same way after being a drummer for few years that there were better opportunities in being a DJ and less competition, so I felt it best to switch around and I didn’t think that much about it.

You left France early on, on the trail of seeking things. Was there just not enough music there for you?

In 1975, we got exposed to a lot of stuff in France. A lot of bands would tour. I saw all the big bands of the day, Santana, Led Zeppelin, Frank Zappa, everybody was touring, but when you went to the States, it meant going to the source, where it actually happened, instead of people visiting. People were living there, you could be around the scene where it was actually being made, so that’s why I wanted to come.

You seemed to have an interest in jazz, soul at that stage. So was that’s why NY would be so attractive?

To me, at this moment, DJing has reached its logically mature plateau.

Yes, and I still do.

You are known as somebody who is an experimenter. Is that a hard thing to maintain over three decades? To keep changing, to keep finding, is it part of your lust or just something you do?

It is my lust. Right now, I’m dabbling in two other projects I’m trying to develop much more as a long term thing. I’m involved in a live surround sound thing that I’m going to start in 2011, a bit different, not so much dance music, it’s going to be more for listening, more an environmental thing. More art gallery or different settings, like an auditorium, playing music in surround, multichannel configuration. It’s a completely different thing, but I’m really pursuing that as I believe that at this moment, DJing to me has reached its logically mature plateau.

There isn’t a lot left that hasn’t been done or can’t be done, like stretch a song, change a tempo, alter the vocals from male to female and like that, but it’s all kinda been done. I think that the thing you are alluding to is more or less the fact that there is a fascination with discovery, blazing new trails where there are no rules written. You could say it’s something that has attracted me throughout the years, rather than conforming to everything else that everyone is doing. I find it easier to carve my own niche, reap the rewards of not always having to be judged against a very, very crowded marketplace.

I read once that you referred to music appreciators as “beardos,” as they stroke their furry chins, or “trainspotters.” You appeal to the appreciator as well as the commercial market…

Oh yes, the “anoraks.” Well it’s just that when you play at a party, you know, one thing that has changed quite a bit from older days, is that in the older days, the DJ was a bit more anonymous, and people were dancing facing each other, having a party with themselves. Recently, people are all facing towards the DJ, and they’re all looking at the DJ; it’s not quite the same attitude, because they are paying attention to the DJ whereas before they would just close their eyes and dance to themselves. So, in a sense, that has changed the way dance music is being appreciated and shared. I think there has always been a component crowd that is scratching their beard and standing next to the DJ booth trying to find out what record is being played and all that.

I hear that you get that a lot. People running up to the booth, and saying, “What track is that?”

I don’t see any problem with that. I think it’s great. At the same time, I think that there are also certain parties where I’ve seen people who obviously can never be pleased. If you play something too obscure, they’ll be like, “Oh, nobody will go for that”; if you play something too popular, they’ll go, “Oh, what a cheap shot.” They are always looking to find something wrong with what the DJ is doing. I’m not necessarily talking about myself but I have observed it many times. They are just there to use the DJ to assert their own music identity, not to like it but in opposition by taking a stance against everything ‘cause it makes them really cool.

And that’s fine, they do that on blogs later, trolling on the net, it takes many forms, there is a kind of musical trolling where certain people are forgetting to just be enthusiastic and a little innocent about the music. They want to act jaded about the music, they’ve seen it all, heard it all. Everyone over the course of time will want to gravitate towards certain kinds of people and I don’t personally relish spending time around people who harbour such energies. I don’t find it very productive at large, unless that someone is very creative and has spent a great deal of time composing, producing, directing, it’s I guess really hard to accept people like that come to parties and they can kill the vibe a bit. I’m more into people who just let themselves go and get into the music.

You mentioned an “elastic sense of time” previously … in that you can stretch people’s perception a bit?

Yeah, whenever you have an environment where people are slightly disoriented, I think it’s up to you if you’re in control of that environment, to do things in a way you feel is appropriate. Even as far back as the ‘70s, conversations with other DJs provided the idea that even though a song sounded fine on its own at home, when you heard it in a club, it took a whole different dimension, and sometimes the little subtle parts that were great went by too fast and there was a necessity of repeating those. Because of the assimilation, when you’re in that environment, where the sound is booming and the lights are flashing, energetic people around you, it makes a completely different perception of what is happening. It might be really difficult to listen to things for what they really are and rather you need, as the DJ, to have a perception of what is required and sometimes will just go on too fast and you need to repeat it. Other times something is really boring, and you need to cut it down, and you know, your mission as the DJ is to be aware of this and make something happen. Or sometimes people lose their perception of the continuity of it and you take them into a sort of vibe where they look at their watch and think, oh wow! Or, the opposite, my god it’s taken too long. There’s a distortion of the linear sense of time that usually takes place outside the club when you’re in a more normal environment.

Deep Space NYC is your highly influential Monday night in New York. That’s where you first announced, “No dress code, just an open mind.” How did you come up with that statements and are you going to create a similar vibe to Deep Space NYC in Australia?

I just came up with it. If I came to Australia every week, I’m sure I could do that over time. But if you think I’m going to come one time, and do that, you must really think I have godlike powers.

What has been the impact of those nights?

Well, Deep Space happens on a Monday night; how many club nights do you know that happen on a Monday night? Deep Space, which I do on my own, is a completely separate project to Body & Soul, which I do on Sunday nights only for special events and around the world now. Body & Soul I do with two other people, Joe Claussell and Danny Krivit. When I do Deep Space, I’m doing it in such a way that kinda opens doors, keeps away the weekend crowd who want to be merry. A lot of people who go party on the weekends, they want to go hear party music, they wanna hear feel‐good, get-down music. They’ve worked all week, they just want to get themselves into a great party atmosphere, have a great time. What I’m trying to accomplish at Deep Space, I want to play more music that is abstract, that’s dubbed out and trippy and out there and psychedelic and mixed up—and not necessarily have to obey a sort of dictatorship that people have cow‐towed to recently, that says a DJ plays beat-mixed music all night long without interruptions. So if they don’t play beat mixed music they’re surely must not be a DJ.

You like to surprise people.

The point of doing something like this… there is an artistic vision attached to this. That is, instead of playing a strictly roots Jamaican dub kind of musical format, and because of the kind of musically knowledge that I have accumulated over all these years of making music and mixes and stuff, I would be able to really present music that I’m playing in a kind of dubbed-out manner. So that’s why the real motto of the party is “no dress code, just an open mind,” it’s that I’m playing live on the mixing board. Now what does that mean, live on the mixing board? It means that, yes, I’m playing music that is probably commercially available, but the way I will be playing it is I’m going to be dubbing it out live in front of people and drawing out certain qualities. I will be making it so that you’re really hearing a different version than you bought or downloaded. And I’ll do something to make more use of it and apply that aesthetic and approach to all kinds of music … instead of strictly reggae, Jamaican or dubstep, and try to bring some coherence to all these types of music. You know, like, we had a party yesterday and for some reason I decided to play a Led Zeppelin track. But the way I played it, it became completely different to the way it was presented in a normal way. I think it was wedged between a dubstep record and a techno record, something like that. The point of Deep Space is instead of doing something that has this samey, uniform, calibrated vibe, like when you go to the fruit stand and you see these oranges on one side and apples on the other side, I just want to give you fruit salad, and the fruit salad is with my special dub sauce.

It’s more of an open‐minded format, where you could hear anything, and you don’t have to necessarily expect that you’re going to hear endless droning hours and hours of the same music.

Sadly, I need to tell you, it travels very poorly. According to other theories from people who spend most of their adult life researching conditioning on humans, it’s very difficult to come to a foreign country thinking that you’re going to change people’s minds who have been trained to listen to repetitive beats of the same kind of music for hours on end for years of their lives, continuously, and suddenly accept the idea that maybe that wasn’t all there was to it, but where in fact there was a something to the idea of presenting all kinds of music together that weren’t beat mixed and try to bring different qualities to it. It’s not impossible and there are certain countries, like Japan, where I’ve been doing it very regularly, where I’ve been able to train them, just as I was in NY, to accept that, but it’s been a real challenge, and in other countries they just don’t get it.

Please let’s clarify from the very beginning. As it would be doing a great disservice otherwise. I am not bringing Deep Space to Australia. I have not been booked to do a Deep Space event. Just because it could well be other DJs who clarify themselves as one-trick ponies and just have one style or one sound, or one thing they do, and therefore when you talk about one thing with them and then that’s the thing they will do. If it was presented to the public and promoted and completely put together to a way where that would be possible, then I would agree with it.

Thanks very much for speaking with me, Francois. We really look forward to you coming to Australia.

It will be wonderful. I really appreciate you taking the time to ask all those questions about Deep Space. At this moment I was going to say I would encourage people to actually do the thing that they could not do by clicking on the mouse and trying to download someone’s set and think that they are really understanding. I think there’s still something to be said for the idea of things having their own flavour, and not being just a global thing. And there is something to be said for being physically there and part of it. Rather than thinking that everything will be the same if you just download it. Make it your business to going there [to my performance], rather than just getting the sound file. That’s the beauty of it, you can do something that needs to be witnessed rather than some digital product that needs to be exchanged. Thanks very much.

Ian Buckland is an award-winning television host, writer, and director from Australia. Acclaimed for introducing popular music to television, he is a founder of three music movements in the Southern Hemisphere, an instigator of the world rave music phenomenon, and a member of the Olympic Games creative committee for Atlanta and Sydney. This century he created The Fashion Broadcasting Corporation in Europe, specialising in French haute couture. He is also an internationally respected magician and currently lives in Melbourne and, occasionally, Paris.

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