There's been no shortage of dialogue around how dubstep has exploded and splintered into countless fragments-- disparate but still interlinked shards reflecting shades of techno, house, garage, drum'n'bass and everything else under the sun. English-born Paul Rose has historically been one of the earliest agents of this dubstep disintegration, making the move to techno haven Berlin early and establishing an interest in the genre that soon became commonplace among many of his genre contemporaries. Founding what would become one of the leading institutions in the techno/dubstep fusion with his Hotflush Recordings label and unprecedentedly landing a residency at the world's most infamous techno club, Berghain, Rose-- better known as Scuba, SCB, or Spectr-- has been a leading light in dissolving the boundaries between different worlds of dance music.
But no matter how experimental or cross-boundary this particular sphere of music gets, there's always a line drawn between all these iterations of "bass music" and what might be considered "proper" techno and house. It's the reason why Rose splits his time between Scuba (bass music) and SCB (straight-up techno), why his memorable RA podcast was a "versus" between his alter egos, and why his SUB:STANCE club night happens on Fridays at Berghain and not Saturdays. It's the reason why his only previous commercial mix CD as Scuba focused almost exclusively on dubstep-centric sounds with none of SCB trickling in. But all bets are off with Rose's contribution to the long-running DJ-Kicks series, where that border fence between "bass" and techno is finally demolished. Mixing genres isn't anything out of the ordinary anymore (in fact, it's pretty much expected), but rarely do we see this kind of flitting between extremes in such a small and confined space.
I'm tempted to say that the overarching theme here is techno, but it's a weird sort of techno. Even when we get big names like Surgeon and Marcel Dettmann, we're not given chunky workouts or sleek, streamlined bangers, but the militarist thrust of "The Power of Doubt" and the jerky IDM of "Captivate". Rose prefers these album cuts over easily more functional single material from either producer, which says a lot about his outside-the-box approach here. Forgoing both the instant-gratification quick mixing of bass music DJs and the lengthy blends of Berlin techno jocks, the tracks feel like they're melting in and out of each other, which means their generic signifiers melt away as well. Rose's style is a fastidious ebb and flow of microscopic beat-stitching. Structurally, Scuba's DJ-Kicks throws another curveball: It doesn't build toward any particular climax, nor is it centered around the "drop" structure inherent to most bass music. The closest we get are the bits of warm melody that seep in with tracks like Braille's jazzy "Breakup" or Mr. Beatnick's elegant G-funk epic "Don't Walk Away From My Love".
Lately Rose's own productions have been moving into house territory, slowing below even the accepted median "bass" tempo of 130 beats per minute (as theorized by Pitchfork's own Martin Clark). What this means is that his mix plays the aural illusion of actually slowing down over the course of its duration: where most DJs would gradually ratchet up the tempo, Rose drags it down from a healthy 132 BPM to a leisurely 125, right where his newest tracks sit. The descent is deceptive, because the mix comes closer to anthemic as it slows: The CD-exclusive "M.A.R.S" is an uncharacteristically happy-go-lucky banger, and it's followed by a rousing selection of house producers like Recondite, Jichael Mackson, and Rivet, previously unassociated with either Scuba or SCB.
No late-2011 Scuba mix would be complete without his controversial "Adrenalin", and DJ-Kicks finally delivers it. The track is given a five-minute spotlight, a gratuitous move for an equally gratuitous track touching on the untouchable: The pariah genres of prog house and trance are fastened with the most decadent breakdown you've heard since you used to listen to Sasha. Leaving "Adrenalin" to the end of the mix is perhaps the only predictable moment on Paul Rose's DJ-Kicks, a disc that's otherwise determined in its mission to keep you on your toes, knitting complex percussive webs and blending genres at a reckless rate that feels like a new gold standard for an already bled-through music world. It might be just a mix CD, but Scuba's DJ-Kicks is a landmark both personal and scene-wide. It shouldn't come as a surprise though, because Paul Rose is just leading the pack like he's always done.
