Let’s get the party started with Basement Jaxx
FELIX BUXTON doesn’t seem to have very strong opinions on twerking. This is a disappointment as the video accompanying the comeback single by his band Basement Jaxx features a robot reprising Miley Cyrus’s notorious bottom-waggling routine.
I had vaguely hoped the ‘Never Say Never’ promo was a sardonic commentary on the intersection between music and celebrity culture. But no, apparently it’s a short film about a saucily gyrating android — nothing more, nothing less.
“We’ve had an amazing response,” says Buxton. “I have to be honest, the credit goes to the director, Saman Kesh. He’s very young and full of energy — it was his vision and we were happy for him to go with it. It was like ‘Where’s Your Head At?’ [the highly controversial video accompanying the 2001 Basement Jaxx single of the same name and directed by McG]… it sort of became its own thing. There are videos we become involved with. Those are two where we took a step back.”
These are heady days for Basement Jaxx. Junto, their first album in five years, is a hedonistic triumph: far removed from 2009’s brooding, cinematic Zephyr, it sees the south London duo returning to their hands-in-the-air origins. It is brash and upbeat, shot through with Latin vim (‘Junto’ is Spanish for ‘together’). The goal, explains Buxton, was to make an LP people could straightforwardly enjoy, without having to think about it too much.
“We were actually keen to put it out earlier in the summer. The last one was introspective. We were in a different place. The idea was that this one would be bright and optimistic — what you’d put on at a party or barbecue.”
After Zephyr, neither Buxton nor musical partner Simon Ratcliffe, were sure there would be another Basement Jaxx album. They’d had fun, released lots of worthwhile music. Still, fresh ideas were getting harder to come by. Besides, they worked steadily as DJs and found success composing for cinema. Life was good — did they really want to spend 18 months sweating out new tunes in the studio?
What changed their minds was the renaissance in British dance music. Up and comers such as Rudimental and Disclosure were bringing the genre out of the underground, back to the mainstream — and name-dropping Basement Jaxx as a formative influence. If Buxton and Ratcliffe were to attempt a comeback, this was the moment.
“Basically it was put to us that we should do something now because people were listening to this kind of music again,” says Buxton. “The landscape had shifted, producers and DJs were making music. So we went into the studio. It took two years and wasn’t always easy.”
In the recording booth, Buxton is a perfectionist, occasionally to his detriment. His instinct is to keep working on a piece of music until it is somewhere beyond flawless. However, part of him recognises that, eventually, you have to step back, to let go. Otherwise you’ll just get bogged down, a prisoner to obsession.
“We’ve always been like that, ” he says. “We’ve always spent at least a year on a record. That isn’t unusual. A lot of musicians are perfectionists, you’ll find.”
Basement Jaxx broke through in the late 1990s, with a baggage-free mix of world music grooves and blissful rhythms. On the heels of the beery, lowest denominator ‘big beat’ scene as personified by Fatboy Slim, they were a blast of fresh air on a sweltering day. Soon, they were posterboys for UK dance — and a major live force, utilising musicians, vocalist and dancers, instead of the traditional samples and loops.
Along with everything else, they’ve always had a sly humour. Their second album, Rooty, was named after an rude Australian word; ‘Basement Jaxx’ itself was a wink towards Irish audiences.
“We knew ‘jacks’ means toilet in Ireland,” says Buxton. “Here was a band whose second album was a rude phrase and whose name meant toilet in the basement.”
Buxton feels their career is unusual in that live and recorded elements inhabit entirely separate realms. You can be a fan of Basement Jaxx as performers and DJs yet only dimly aware of their studio output. This does not vex him in the least.
“People know they can come and see us live and are guaranteed a wicked night out. They might not know much about our music. The live show is its own beast. We’re lucky to have cultivated that element. Recorded music has an uncertain future — nobody is sure how it is going to evolve. The fact we have a whole other side to what we do is fantastic.”
In their late 30s, Buxton and Ratcliffe are too long in the tooth to be considered part of the EDM movement sweeping the world. Nonetheless, they believe dance music’s rejuvenation is to everyone’s benefit — and prominently decline to join in the chorus of disdain directed at EDM from an older generation of producers and DJs.
“EDM is its own thing,” says Buxton. “There is lots of good stuff. We performed at [major EDM festival] Ultra this year — the audience was a bunch of 15-year-olds wearing Day-Glo paint. For them, it must have been amazing. The vibe was quite hippyish — very positive. They’ll look back and remember it all their lives. How could you disapprove?”
He thinks EDM broadens the audience for electronic music. “Maybe some of the rock kids like it ’cos they can punch the air as these big riffs come along. It’s very different to where we come from… we took our inspiration from artists who were more minimalist and soulful. Some of the EDM production is amazing — it’s spacey and atmospheric and absolutely massive, all at the same time. ”
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