There’s a good chance that DJ Elmoe was the first footwork producer you ever heard. Elmoe’s “Whea Yo Ghost At, Whea Yo Dead Man” topped the tracklist of Planet Mu’s iconic 2010 compilation Bangs & Works Vol. 1, sneaking in just ahead of the godfather DJ Rashad’s “Teknitian.” Elmoe’s track wasn’t typical footwork, though. Instead of juggling dozens of finely chopped samples, “Whea Yo Ghost At, Whea Yo Dead Man” opens with broad, epic synths plucked from the Vangelis tune “Ask the Mountains.” Planet Mu’s compilation is widely credited with introducing footwork to the world beyond Chicago’s South Side; by opening the record with such an ethereal song, Mike Paradinas’ label put the genre’s experimental side front and center.
“I don’t make my tracks for people to just dance off to, I make tracks that you can listen to forever,” said Elmoe (aka Johnathan Tapp) in an interview in 2019. Since Bangs & Works Vol. 1, he’s been quietly self-releasing his chopped-and-screwed style of footwork on Bandcamp, deconstructing the genre’s spartan percussion and juxtaposing it with pitched-down, otherworldly samples. Battle Zone, Tapp’s full-length Planet Mu debut, is actually a cherry-picked compilation of his back catalog; the earliest tune on it (“Battle Zone”) was self-released back in February 2014.
Remarkably, though, Battle Zone feels less like a compilation that spans over a decade of his music-making career than a labored-over full-length representing a delineated period of time. For the duration of the record, Battle Zone operates firmly within its own mutated definition of footwork, exploring a range of fast-paced tempos (instead of sticking to the genre’s standardized 160 BPM) and wielding the Chicago style’s sharp but mithril-light percussion with the sparing touch of an early-’00s dubstep producer and the guile of a free-jazz drummer.
Tapp played percussion in a band before he started producing footwork, which might be why his drums are so pronounced. Rather than crowd his compositions, he gives each hat, snare, and 808 kick the same time, space, and precision you would need to spark fire from a flint. Hollow drums stutter over glowing metallophones on “Come Back”; light-footed 808s dance around Sanny Alves’ warm Portuguese-language vocals on “Yes I Do”; and a closed hat and snare triplet dot the slurred rewind effect on “Bangin Vox” like an ellipsis. Tapp’s clipped percussion jumps out from these smooth, sepia-hued soundstages unbound to any particular structure.
This means tracks rarely go in the direction you expect them to. In the dying seconds of “Ina Rain,” its throbbing sub-bass begins swooping up and down as though set free and jumping for joy. The sprightly synths that open “Wander Nights” teeter on the edge of a minor-key transition until a full-bodied accordion blossoms and teleports you straight to the French Riviera. A barrage of motherfuckers attack the jubilant parade of piano and strings on “Give It to Em.” And on “Battle Zone,” Tapp abruptly pitches the track’s soaring synth arpeggios and confident “Like it’s hot” vocal down an octave to a more ominous and ambiguous place. These polarizing transitions are bold but not jarring, as though conflicting emotions had been lurking in each track from the get-go.
No matter how well orchestrated Tapp’s mercurial mood swings are, they could still throw off many dancefloors. “Wayne Train”—with its familiar quaking sub-bass and skittish hi-hats—is probably the only track that you can picture someone footworking to here. This puts Battle Zone at odds with where the genre is heading right now. While footwork has always been rooted in its dance, fans across the pond are increasingly choosing to move to it rather than treating it as a museum piece. Promoters like Tropical Waste in London are teaming up with local grassroots dance communities and putting footworking front and center at their gigs. But Tapp seems more interested in exploring how he can make the style’s instruments, rather than its dancers, move in new ways. For over a decade, he has developed his shape-shifting world of tight, high-speed rhythms and warped, wide-open textures; at last, his debut LP for Planet Mu expands on the promise of “Whea Yo Ghost At, Whea Yo Dead Man?” and “Yo Shit Fucked Up” to showcase the essence of Elmoe’s artistry. Even if it’s not battle ready, it’s razor sharp and exhilaratingly free.
