WED., JUNE 20, 2007
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Rising Above The Rave: The Art Of Kenji Williams
by Robert Phoenix
If one could assign the attributes of a baseball player to an artist, Kenji Williams would be what they call a five-tool-player. The classically trained violinist and electronic music producer is also a filmmaker and visual artist who's recently collaborated with Alex Grey, creator of the ecstatic series of visionary views into the body electric on the award-winning Worldspirit DVD that combines Williams’ music and filmmaking with Grey’s uber-psychedelic art.
Born in Malaysia to mixed parents, Williams learned the way of the bow and rosin at age seven. But it was his exposure to the Detroit/Toronto underground rave scene in the mid '90s, while studying film in college at the University of Toronto, that turned his world upside-down. Blown away by the energy of Plus 8 crew (Richie Hawtin and John Aquaviva) along with the Belleville bunch (Derrick May, Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, et al.) Williams put his violin away and started to both document and participate in the rave scene, first by producing a student film, “Moment Utopia” (which later became a more fleshed-out doc feature) and by making music.
His first foray into the world of dance music produced a single that was picked up by none other than John Digweed, who at the time was launching his Bedrock label — not bad for an absolute beginner.
Meanwhile, he had relocated to the Bay Area where the biggest psychedelic party since the '60s had been in effect from the late '80s through the late '90s. Chronicled by the likes of Mondo 2000 magazine and Douglas Rushkoff in his classic, Tom Wolfe-inspired Cyberia: Life in the Trenches of Cyberspace, “The Bay” was awash in MDMA, ibogaine, LSD, mushrooms, DMT and ketamine. During these high times, Williams’ transformation went into hyperdrive, where crews like Spundae, Moontribe and others ruled from midnight 'til dawn.
Williams took on the moniker ABA Structure and produced two promising EPs, Illusion and Tektonik. But it’s his first full-length release, Epic that forged his musical identity as a producer, fusing gentle grooves and warm electronic beats amidst the wash of nature sounds like lapping water and gently blowing breezes. Epic also has a lite-dub feel to it, lending it a semi-danceable sensibility, even though the BPMs never outpace the heart on any one track. If there were any sort of comparisons to make with Williams' output on Epic it would be with Kruder/Dorfmeister as a creator of intelligent dance music, slightly chilled.
On the deliriously dubby “Houseboats,” Williams reacquainted himself with his old friend, the violin, as strains of its classical sounds lap in and out of the undulating rhythms. The violin would play a large role in his next incarnation as a member of the trance dance outfit Medicine Drum, where he would perform side-by-side with his former partner, the exotic Russian siren Irina Mikhailova, who also sings, quite beautifully at that, on Epic.
Touring and recording with Medicine Drum gave Williams a renewed love for the violin and he decided to bring it to the fore in his solo performances, playing live while mixing beats for heads awash with serotonin and possibility.
His next album, Faces of Epiphany, is more up-tempo and even aggressive on the heels of the blissed-out beatitude of Epic. The lead track, “Spirit Walker,” begins with a muezzin-like cry over a bed of soft synth washes that kicks into a full-blown dance floor assault, but like most of Williams' compositions, it never feels edgy, nervy, or anxious. It’s full-tilt but controlled at the same time, propelling, driving, pulsing, but never out of control. It’s a trademark quality of most of Williams’ art: pushing the edge, but never going over. Even on “Illusion,” the other dance floor stomper on Faces, he never delivers beats beyond the body's and mind's ability to assimilate them; using delay, reverb and loops, he suspends moments in time while the track surges forward. It’s a technique not too unlike one Steve Reich used on Desert Music. In this regard Williams comes very close to the minimalist camp, but veers left towards the dance floor. If there was ever a record crying out to have remixed versions floating around clubs across the planet, it’s Faces.
His latest audio work is the soundtrack to Worldspirit. It marks yet another departure for the impetuous Williams, as he takes on sacred space music and deep mystical ambience on tracks like “Buddha Embryo,” “Progress of the Soul” and “Aura.”
With each successive outing, Williams' ability to craft new worlds in sound and image grows exponentially.
What’s next for him?
Inspired by playing violin a mere 200 meters away from a launching rocket in the dessert of Kazakhstan, Willliams wants to bridge the gap between Earth and space, collaborating with astronauts in an orbiting space station with live feeds and images provided in a real-time performance with Williams holding court. Now that is truly epic.
Born in Malaysia to mixed parents, Williams learned the way of the bow and rosin at age seven. But it was his exposure to the Detroit/Toronto underground rave scene in the mid '90s, while studying film in college at the University of Toronto, that turned his world upside-down. Blown away by the energy of Plus 8 crew (Richie Hawtin and John Aquaviva) along with the Belleville bunch (Derrick May, Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, et al.) Williams put his violin away and started to both document and participate in the rave scene, first by producing a student film, “Moment Utopia” (which later became a more fleshed-out doc feature) and by making music.
His first foray into the world of dance music produced a single that was picked up by none other than John Digweed, who at the time was launching his Bedrock label — not bad for an absolute beginner.
Meanwhile, he had relocated to the Bay Area where the biggest psychedelic party since the '60s had been in effect from the late '80s through the late '90s. Chronicled by the likes of Mondo 2000 magazine and Douglas Rushkoff in his classic, Tom Wolfe-inspired Cyberia: Life in the Trenches of Cyberspace, “The Bay” was awash in MDMA, ibogaine, LSD, mushrooms, DMT and ketamine. During these high times, Williams’ transformation went into hyperdrive, where crews like Spundae, Moontribe and others ruled from midnight 'til dawn.
Williams took on the moniker ABA Structure and produced two promising EPs, Illusion and Tektonik. But it’s his first full-length release, Epic that forged his musical identity as a producer, fusing gentle grooves and warm electronic beats amidst the wash of nature sounds like lapping water and gently blowing breezes. Epic also has a lite-dub feel to it, lending it a semi-danceable sensibility, even though the BPMs never outpace the heart on any one track. If there were any sort of comparisons to make with Williams' output on Epic it would be with Kruder/Dorfmeister as a creator of intelligent dance music, slightly chilled.
On the deliriously dubby “Houseboats,” Williams reacquainted himself with his old friend, the violin, as strains of its classical sounds lap in and out of the undulating rhythms. The violin would play a large role in his next incarnation as a member of the trance dance outfit Medicine Drum, where he would perform side-by-side with his former partner, the exotic Russian siren Irina Mikhailova, who also sings, quite beautifully at that, on Epic.
Touring and recording with Medicine Drum gave Williams a renewed love for the violin and he decided to bring it to the fore in his solo performances, playing live while mixing beats for heads awash with serotonin and possibility.
His next album, Faces of Epiphany, is more up-tempo and even aggressive on the heels of the blissed-out beatitude of Epic. The lead track, “Spirit Walker,” begins with a muezzin-like cry over a bed of soft synth washes that kicks into a full-blown dance floor assault, but like most of Williams' compositions, it never feels edgy, nervy, or anxious. It’s full-tilt but controlled at the same time, propelling, driving, pulsing, but never out of control. It’s a trademark quality of most of Williams’ art: pushing the edge, but never going over. Even on “Illusion,” the other dance floor stomper on Faces, he never delivers beats beyond the body's and mind's ability to assimilate them; using delay, reverb and loops, he suspends moments in time while the track surges forward. It’s a technique not too unlike one Steve Reich used on Desert Music. In this regard Williams comes very close to the minimalist camp, but veers left towards the dance floor. If there was ever a record crying out to have remixed versions floating around clubs across the planet, it’s Faces.
His latest audio work is the soundtrack to Worldspirit. It marks yet another departure for the impetuous Williams, as he takes on sacred space music and deep mystical ambience on tracks like “Buddha Embryo,” “Progress of the Soul” and “Aura.”
With each successive outing, Williams' ability to craft new worlds in sound and image grows exponentially.
What’s next for him?
Inspired by playing violin a mere 200 meters away from a launching rocket in the dessert of Kazakhstan, Willliams wants to bridge the gap between Earth and space, collaborating with astronauts in an orbiting space station with live feeds and images provided in a real-time performance with Williams holding court. Now that is truly epic.
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