Jeff Mills moves through music as a space of continuous research. His work does not simply define a sound, but questions what sound can become: a language, a vision, a form of movement capable of shifting perception beyond the present. In his practice, machine and intuition do not stand in opposition, but enter into tension; rhythm becomes thought, performance becomes a space where the audience does not simply listen, but takes part in a transformation. Jeff Mills continues to push electronic music beyond its most recognisable boundaries, seeking to understand what it can still reveal about us, about the future, and about the possibilities we have not yet learned to hear.
After all these years of performing around the world and producing music, what is the reason you still do what you do?
Reasons. I love music. I’m enameled with what music does, how people react to it, how it can say and imply things that would be difficult to say any other way. Music precedes language and comes from origins far beyond this planet, so musicians and DJs are dealing with a form of communication that we probably can’t fully grasp. And, we have to assume that because of our lack of senses, we are not able to experience the full scope of sound/music. So, as I make my way through my career (and around the world), yes, I’m presenting music, but I’m also trying to understand more about what I’m dealing with.
Detroit is often described as the birthplace of techno, but in your work it also seems to have become a symbolic, musical, futuristic and deeply human landscape. How has Detroit shaped the way you imagine sound, and how much of that city still lives within your work today ?
Earlier in my career, the city was important because it was the root of most of my influences and experiences, but it does not shape and dictate the sound anymore. By coincidence, and not by design, I was born and raised there. And I’m grateful to have been connected to the city’s rich music history, but as in any active career, I moved on. I still remember – I’m still The Wizard. But, the scope of what I’m dealing with is much wider and the reasons I’m extending outward go far beyond the streets of Detroit.
You have described your music as “a way of making people feel as if they were in a time beyond the present.” In your sets, this feeling seems to emerge through the way you raise the intensity, let it fall, change direction and guide the audience through the night. How much of this journey is built in advance, and how much is created in the moment ?
It's all created in the moment. But this isn’t the only way to approach music programming for audiences, it’s just what I prefer. There is no correct or incorrect way to play music. I do it this way because it allows me to explore more. If I may add something to this answer for your readers: the aspect of DJing is only a small part of the genre. And in my opinion, it is far from the most important part, which has proven to be music production. It (the creation of music) is this area of the genre that will survive in the memory of people much longer than a DJ set. It is “music” that we measure the paths from our youth throughout life, it’s how we measure the progress of creativity, measure whether the artist has something substantial to say, or not, it’s how we understand the level of an artist’s talent, knowledge and skill, and why we should spend our time and money with their music or not. Music is still the most important part of electronic Music, even if we act like it isn’t.
The Bells has lived different lives: first as a techno track conceived for the clubs, capable of bringing the audience to what you described as a “point of no return”; and later, through ‘Blue Potential’, as a piece reimagined with the Montpellier Philharmonic Orchestra. What did it mean for you to see a techno track enter into dialogue with an orchestra ?
The Bells is standing the test of time. It’s quite remarkable because this wasn’t my goal when I made it. In 1995, it was only created for something that only I could play so, I made a test sample disc of it. It wasn’t until I was asked repeatedly by other DJs what it was that I thought about releasing it commercially. When I play it, either on vinyl or with an orchestra, it creates the same response as in 1995. After 30 years and in a strange way, The Bells has begun to have its own life. Mentally, I’ve moved on but this track has been burned into the memory of so many people that in a way, it belongs to them just as much. It is the people who are mainly responsible for why this track is still played so often today.
The Roland TR-909 in your hands seems to become something more than simply drum machine, it’s a live instrument, shaped by gesture and sheer instinct. How did you develop such a personal language with it ?
Well, maybe we misunderstood the creative boundaries of machines from the beginning. As much as I can remember, there was never a rule that said we must only program the machine. Obviously, “playing” them was overlooked as we were amused by the new idea, back then in the 1980s, that these machines could do simple to complex tasks for us instead. So many of us stopped or even never played instruments. No real improvising, no real solos. Unfortunately, in Electronic Music today, we are not as free as we could be. And, I think what I’m doing with a Roland TR-909 is only a small indication of what’s really possible. On another point, today’s audiences of Electronic Music are [maybe] not getting all that they deserve as the result of DJs and artists not exploring more because if I can solo and be impulsive on a drum machine for 15 minutes, surely they can too.
You have said that when artists rely too much on technology to materialize ideas for them, music can begin to sound increasingly similar. For you, how important is the process of searching, of not knowing exactly what you are looking for, in order to discover something genuinely new ?
To be clear, all artists are not the same. But in saying this, too many artists that sound the same is, and has always been, a bit disturbing to me. I don’t know, maybe it comes down to the way we interpret sound and rhythm. If I’m making something in the studio that sounds like something I’ve heard before, I erase it and start over. Maybe this isn’t the case for many others. I guess the question is whether artists want to sound like other artists. I have to assume the answer is yes. So, originality and working to create something “seemingly” different doesn’t seem to be the first choice in Electronic Music. “Continuation” seems to fit more appropriately. I assume that if I can come up with something different, it might speak to someone new, not only the same people.
Having moved through very different eras of club culture, what do you appreciate most about the way performances are experienced today, and what do you miss about the experience of the night as it once was and what do you think the club scene should become in the future/how it should evolve ?
I know that in my generation, undisclosed competitiveness amongst artists and DJs was an obstacle that prevented many things from happening and as the result, missed opportunities for the general public to experience. Today, there seems to be a much deeper appreciation from younger audiences than before. Maybe it’s because a lot of important things were created long before they were born so, they do not have the habit, or competitive instinct, to try and compare themselves and their actions. The history is ours and the future is theirs. One doesn’t have to always dominate or dictate the other. Even still, there seems to be a strange type of conditional form of currency with the past and “knowing” about the past – “keeping it real/OG” and always knowing where one comes from. People use the past to slow others down, hold them back, or control them. To evolve, we have to remind ourselves and others that actions speak much louder than words. Anyone can talk, but not many can actually materialize and do it.
Is there something you still have not said through your music, something you are still searching for ?
Yes, I’m convinced that there will be a time when all of this - the time spent, hard work and close attention of so many people - to build a super-genre of music will all make sense. I know that at times, we like to entertain ourselves in thinking music is like sports and that there must always be winners and losers, but the truth is that everyone contributes to the artform. In small or big ways. And that it’s all relevant to the cause. This is what we all understood in Detroit in the 1980s and what so many of us still know today. It was always about “it”, not us or me.
When you look at electronic music today, where do you feel its greatest unexplored possibility lies?
Rebellion.
Your new project, The Trip to Vega, imagines a journey towards a distant Star System through electronic and acoustic music, images and optical illusion. What drew you to Vega, and what kind of experience do you want the audience to enter through this new work?
The Trip To Vega suggests that our present condition here on Earth may not be a sustainable one. And in this probability, the idea to consider leaving this planet and migrating somewhere else might be our only logical option. The concept of the album is about the journey from one place, through the unknown and uncontrollable cosmos to another place where we might be lucky enough to live and continue to evolve. The album speaks to the idea about the “rights to live” and what is paramount in terms of survival. The things we want to do, things we should do, and who gets to decide. Another way to look at this concept is by considering “today” is Earth and tomorrow is “Vega”. How do we get there? What must we do to ensure a safe transition? Safe travels. The year of the concept takes place in the year 2097, only three years before the turn of the next century. So, even though humanity is in trouble, time will continue with or without us. It’s a date that a younger person today, if they can stay in good health could actually live to reach it, so being able to count down to the concept is quite interesting. Technically, no drum machine was used. So, percussion and drum-like sounds were applied individually, like a painter selecting colors to apply to a palette. Also, very few high frequencies were used on the tracks because in the concept, humans lost a lot of the ability to hear because of the environmental crisis at hand. I’ve already started working on the concept for the next album, but, I’m not ready to reveal it yet. It’s a quite shocking idea. Science-fiction thriller.
