These recordings weren't intended for release, they aren't even demos, but rather exercises – process tracks in an attempt to mirror the influences of an aspiring artist as they oriented their emerging work. Most of the tracks were constructed in single sittings and recorded to cassette at home in Glasgow through a Philips AW-7694 boombox. That they feel finished, even iconic amid the short lived confluence between Detroit techno and intelligent dance music, is a testament to what was materialising, but also to our collective nostalgia, revisionism, and thirst to understand how we've arrived here and why. Übungen has that youthful and pre-internet utopian aura, without being tethered to the phony maxed-out optimism ricocheting across the Atlantic in a 4G pollution. That I first came to Dave Clark's earliest work in the anxiety-ripening stage of the pandemic while I was becoming chronically sick – a time when it was all too easy to glide through dystopian nightmares and realities alike – only speaks to the work's presence and its allowance to dream, ahistoricism or splice into the affect of histories, and to dismantle the contemporary, not in an arsy or nihilistic way, but to appreciate (questioningly) the passage of time.
Sitting somewhere between an EP and a full-length, these six pieces predate Dave's other archival release – Sparky's 94Archive2/8 [Rubadub, 2015], which also features cassette transfers originally recorded in stereo without overdubs. As a sound archivist myself, it was a welcome experience first listening to Dave's transfers on headphones while walking around the canals of Maryhill rather than handling the digital captures in a studio. I've been enamoured with the music ever since and despite the original utilitarian intention, shifting contexts and the chance to listen afresh decades on allows for clearance (dare I say recuperation). It is, for this reason, and the sardonic re-opening of archival material perverted into something on the ground, that's not merely dog shit, that I am very pleased to finally share this collection.
Each of the titles provides the recording year and is initialed by the respective influence: Carl Craig, Aphex Twin (you'll recognise the shimmering hi-hats), Yellow Magic Orchestra, Black Dog, Polygon Window, and Drexycia.
Sitting somewhere between an EP and a full-length, these six pieces predate Dave's other archival release – Sparky's 94Archive2/8 [Rubadub, 2015], which also features cassette transfers originally recorded in stereo without overdubs. As a sound archivist myself, it was a welcome experience first listening to Dave's transfers on headphones while walking around the canals of Maryhill rather than handling the digital captures in a studio. I've been enamoured with the music ever since and despite the original utilitarian intention, shifting contexts and the chance to listen afresh decades on allows for clearance (dare I say recuperation). It is, for this reason, and the sardonic re-opening of archival material perverted into something on the ground, that's not merely dog shit, that I am very pleased to finally share this collection.
Each of the titles provides the recording year and is initialed by the respective influence: Carl Craig, Aphex Twin (you'll recognise the shimmering hi-hats), Yellow Magic Orchestra, Black Dog, Polygon Window, and Drexycia.
