The Detroit Escalator Company
(Excerpts)
- Released
- 2000
- Format
- Vinyl, 12", Compilation
- Label
- Peacefrog Records · PF099
- Rating
- 10/10
ambient-technodetroitfuture-jazz
Electronic AbstractFuture JazzAmbientTechno
View on Discogs ↗ Related titles
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Jeff Mills The Extremist Jeff Mills came up through the same Detroit underground that Ollivierra was running from the door — the Music Institute, Tresor, the Transmat orbit. -
Drexciya Harnessed The Storm Drexciya were UR-adjacent and developing their Afrofuturist mythology in parallel with the scene Ollivierra was documenting. Two records that sound like Detroit remembering itself. -
cv313 & Mike Huckaby Our Life With The Wave CV313 and Mike Huckaby's record is the other Detroit elegy — Hitchell finishing what Huckaby couldn't, Ollivierra documenting what he watched from the door. -
CH-Signal Laboratories (8003 Lucerne) Hypnotica Scale Sandwell District's sound was partly built in response to what Detroit records like this one showed was possible — negative space as the main event.
Neil Ollivierra was the promoter who ran the Music Institute — the Detroit after-hours club where Derrick May, Kevin Saunderson, and the Transmat/KMS/Metroplex axis developed their sound between 1988 and 1989. He was also Derrick May’s label manager for years afterward. When he eventually made his own record, Soundtrack [313], it was one of the most spacious and melancholic pieces of ambient techno ever pressed. (Excerpts) is the sampler from that album. The man who was running the door whilst the genre was being invented in real time made music that sounds like remembering the room.
The debut 12-inch, Shifting Gears (1996), was never officially released — Ollivierra pressed approximately 150 copies, sent some to journalist contacts, and gave the rest to Mike Himes at Record Time in Detroit to sell through the shop and mail order. All three tracks eventually appeared on Soundtrack [313]. (Excerpts) being a Peacefrog reissue is the reason any of this is audible outside those 150 original slabs. There is something fitting about a record this quiet having provenance this complicated.
I keep coming back to the particular quality of restraint here — how little happens, and how full the space feels anyway. Ollivierra’s Soundtrack [313] is the Detroit of the observer rather than the combatant, made by someone who ran the door whilst the genre was invented and then, years later, went home and translated what he had heard into something that sounds like missing it.