Dub is the drug

>> From Montreal's Mossman to Napalm Death's ex-drummer, dub bridges past and present

by CHRIS YURKIW

What is dub? Ask the prophets, and ye shall find many answers: "A series of mistakes," "a successful war on logic," "a journey through time and space," "a technology of the sacred," "stoner headphone soundtracks of the highest calibre..."

"Dub was created from reggae--those two things automatically flow in and out of each other. But I don't think that dub could have existed without reggae," says Moss "Mossman" Raxlen, a guy from NDG who, at 23, has taken it upon himself to be Montreal's messenjah of dub. He spins copies of rare Jamaican 45s in clubs. He used to run a little dub and breakbeat record emporium at Duluth and Drolet. He promotes shows and produces music. But most of all, Mossman likes to call himself a "reggae historian."

Moss is highly passionate about this thing called dub, as many of its devotees tend to be, especially the original '70s stuff that's essentially instrumental remixes of reggae songs with the vocals dropped out and simple effects like reverb, echo and delay popped in. Dub, as it came out of the ramshackle recording studios of Kingston, Jamaica, was probably the first instance of "the-studio-as-instrument" being applied to a form of popular music, save eccentric blips like Brian Wilson or Phil Spector.

But despite being a kind of "machine music" in that sense, dub results in the mystical, the transcendent, the transgressive; an environment in which time is stretched and compressed via sounds--sounds so concrete they create space. A vocal line echoes off into oblivion... only to bounce back twice as loud. Drum rimshots are amplified until they pierce. A background sound suddenly becomes the focus of a dub, on which the whole thing lingers for an extended moment before plodding on. And underneath it all are molasses basslines, so phat they're obese.

Dub has been around about as long as reggae itself, but it's currently enjoying new life as its influence on electronic, dance and any kind of "studio music" becomes more and more apparent. Hip hop, ragga jungle, and drum 'n' bass are only a handful of the most obvious offshoots.

"King Tubby, Lee Perry and Kraftwerk," cites Moss. "The Jamaican dubheads and those weird fuckin' guys from Germany--they're the greatest influences on pop music right now. There's still the alternative rock scene, but if you listen to that now it's heavily influenced by the hip hop sound, or the electronica sound."

Cut to England, where Caribbean immigrants have woven reggae and dub right into the fabric of politico-cultural life, most notably punk music in the late '70s. UB40 came from Birmingham, and so did one Mick Harris, who by the mid-'80s would have the distinction of being in the band that took rock music to its utter extreme, and in a sense, conclusion. Napalm Death were the premier "grindcore" group, with songs so fast (it's said that drummer Harris got up to 400 beats per minute) and torturously heavy that they often lasted only 20 seconds.

When Harris left Napalm Death in 1991, it was almost as if he had no choice but to move into other areas of music. In a classic "post-rock" shift, he went to the other extreme and turned to heavy bass, minimalist tones and hyper-slow breakbeats, calling himself Scorn along the way and trading in his drum sticks for what he calls "the whole studio process, the whole recording, the engineering, the whole thing." If people need a neat phrase to sum up Harris as Scorn, it's usually "ambient dub," even though what Harris is doing is more obviously a related descendent in the "digi-dub" age.

"I got turned on to reggae listening to John Peel's show and through some Rasta friends," says Mick. "But what really fascinated me was the b-sides of singles which had the instrumental dub versions on them. I loved the effects, the playing with faders and dubbing on the board. It's a journey every time, and that's what dub is to me: the effects, the mixing board, incorporating the two--and just letting it go."

Scorn performs as part of the Invisible Records tour with Pigface, FM Einheit, Bagman and Not Breathing, Sunday, April 5, 8pm. Foufounes, $17-20. Mossman plays Dub Lounge night at Blizzarts, April 23


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This document was created Thursday, April 2, 1998. ©Mirror 1998