Repress!

Miss Kittin & The Hacker are the Electro duo of Caroline Hervé and Michel Amato from Grenoble, France. The pair met during the early 90s at a rave and soon after bought turntables and began DJing. In 1996, they started writing music heavily influenced by 1980s synthpop and post-punk bands like Fad Gadget, DAF, Liaisons Dangeuresues, and Yazoo, as well as Italo Disco. Bored by the techno scene at the time, they set out out to lighten the serious tone and bring a campy sexiness to the dour musical landscape. Upon hearing their demos DJ Hell signed them to his Munich-based International DJ Gigolo label and released their first 2 EPs in 1998 and 1999. Their debut album ”First Album" was released in 2001 followed by . in ?.

“Lost Tracks Vol. 2” contains 4 previously unreleased demos recorded between 1997 and 1999. The duo fused 80’s European New Wave/Italo Disco with 90’s Detroit Electro acts like Le Car and Dopplereffekt. By utilizing verse-chorus structures, they playfully shook up the loop based hard techno and electro that was popular at the time. Their studio set up at the time was a Korg MS-20, Roland SH-101, TR-606, TR-808, Siel DK80, and Boss DR-660 drum machine. The songs are direct, spontaneous, seemingly improvised in places. Miss Kittin sings about falling in love in the new millennium, snuff movies and controlling the unknown trip to death, all in her cheekily derisive French accent. All songs have been transferred from the original DAT tapes by the band and remastered for vinyl by George Horn at Fantasy Studios. The vinyl comes housed in a glossy jacket featuring a black and white photo of the duo taken in 1996. Each LP includes a postcard with liner notes from Miss Kittin and The Hacker designed by Eloise Leigh. As Miss Kittin says of these demos, “We were naive, innocent, adventurous and we didn’t expect anything in return” More

Tracklisting:
A1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - The Womb
A2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - 1000 Dreams
A3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - PPPO
B1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Party In My Head
B2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Indulgence
B3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Emotional Interlude
C1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Suspicious Mind
C2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Electronic City
C3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Inutile Eternit
D1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Ray Ban
D2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - 1000 Dreams Reprise

Release Note
The duo's second album, in full. More

It's been some six years since Caroline "Miss Kittin" Herve and Michel "The Hacker" Amato last delivered fresh material together. While we await further news of their long-mooted comeback, there's this tasty EP of previously unheard archive material to enjoy. Made up of tracks recorded between 1997 and '99 - when their production partnership was in its' infancy - The Lost Tracks Volume 1 contains a number of fuzzy, stylish, floor-friendly bangers, from the S&M-themed madness of opener "Leather Forever" and stripped-back electro gem "Nightlife" (a tribute to Berlin clubs of the period, apparently), to the high-tempo acid-loaded freakishness of "Loving The Alien". Top-notch sleaze.
More

Tracklisting:
A1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - The Womb
A2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - 1000 Dreams
A3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - PPPO
B1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Party In My Head
B2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Indulgence
B3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Emotional Interlude
C1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Suspicious Mind
C2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Electronic City
C3 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Inutile Eternit
D1 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - Ray Ban
D2 Miss Kittin & The Hacker - 1000 Dreams Reprise

Release Note
The duo's second album, in full. More

Dance music has always been grounded in a sense of place. Chicago, Detroit, London, Berlin—a zip code can tell you as much about the music as the year it was made.

But beyond the nuts and bolts of the here and now lies a netherzone where some of the best electronic music floats, impossible to pin down. Swayzak’s Snowboarding in Argentina is one such record.

The title hints at its uncanny placelessness. The music has nothing outwardly to do with Argentina, for one thing. The work of UK producers David Nicholas Brown and James S. Taylor, it was recorded in a number of locations—mostly bedrooms—around London. Yet there is little that is quintessentially British about the music. Instead, Brown and Taylor drew much of their inspiration from, on the one hand, the luminous chords and silky heft of Detroit techno, and on the other, the staccato drums and clipped textures that were then beginning to bubble out of Berlin and Cologne.

That brings us to the question of time. For if Snowboarding in Argentina belongs to nowhere, it is equally a product of nowhen.

On a practical level, the music took shape in the mid to late 1990s, although it took nearly 10 years for it to come to fruition. Brown and Taylor began jamming on instruments, then machines, in the late 1980s. Then,
after Brown suffered a serious car accident, the two musicians began working together more seriously. Trial and error yielded a promising single with a downtempo vibe that a hired-gun studio producer promptly ruined; Swayzak retreated to their bedrooms. They learned about Chain Reaction from a radio show, found new ways to burrow into the circuitry of their machines, and by 1996 they had hit upon their sound. brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publish nine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after
its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working
off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars.

The core of Snowboarding in Argentina appeared on a series of three two-track singles in 1997. (Taylor brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publishnine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars. More