Tajh Morris interviews Gerald Mitchell about a classic Detroit record where techno fulfilled its promise as high-tech, futuristic soul.
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"Techno saved my life."
This statement might seem cliché, but in the case of Gerald Mitchell, it's reality. As a young adult coming up in Detroit during the '80s, there were many hazardous paths one could take. Music has historically provided an alternative avenue for citizens of the Motor City to navigate away from the dangers of street life. Although there were some bumps along the road, Mitchell has earned his place in the electronic musical canon. In addition to his many aliases and groups (such as the recent ode to backyard parties Celebrity BBQ Sauce Band, the long-running Los Hermanos project, and the chart topping Jaguar), he's widely known for his work with Underground Resistance since the mid '90s. One of the crown jewels in UR's legendary discography is Hardlife, released in the summer of 2001.
Although techno has come to be known for an absence of organic elements (like singing), the UR camp has consistently delivered soulful vocals with their hi-tech jazz sound. "Hardlife" has a sense of urgency, with the essence of the blues backed by a futuristic band. In a different era, "Hardlife" would have been played on the R&B stations, a crossover hit in the discotheques of the past. The lyrics have a weight to them straying from the individualist or hedonist lyrical content of so much modern dance music. Speaking to Mitchell about the record, I wanted to get an idea about the inspiration behind "Hardlife": "It's about people who struggle," he starts off, then pauses for a moment before continuing on. "The story is about addiction, to be quite honest."
The vocalist is Ron Mitchell, Gerald's cousin, and the song is about a family member who was addicted to drugs at the time. "Hardlife" was recorded during what could be considered Detroit's lowest period, when the city was barreling towards bankruptcy. The photo on the record's center label was taken in Skid Row, with immense corporate buildings in the background. This was when large portions of Downtown had no lights, crime was rampant and the city seemed left behind by American society. The Mitchells were born into Detroit at its peak, and came of age as the city fell into ruin. With their family unit in mind, the song is meant to convey a sense of hope, to move the listener towards the light and away from the streets. "It's an appeal to anyone who has ever been addicted to anything. Even myself, I will reveal my damage—I have been strung out on drugs before, what musician hasn't?"
It's refreshing to hear Gerald Mitchell frankly, even lightly, discuss this struggle, a sign that he'smade peace with the difficult parts of his past. "Thanks to God, I'm done with that. At the end of the day I'm a church musician. I grew up in the church."
You can hear these foundations in Mitchell's sound through his playing, and in the melancholy chords on "Hardlife." (This was his second release in the UR-verse, the first being "Soulsaver," under the name The Deacon, on the renowned Somewhere in Detroit sub-label.) He grew up with Mike Banks, coming up in the pre-techno music scene together as adolescents before losing touch in early adulthood. When they reconnected, Mitchell was working at General Motors, producing hip-hop and feeling unfulfilled, until being brought into the pinnacle production team in the genre rejuvenated his artistic creativity. He was a novice in the dance music world, so there was a learning curve as it took time for him to both appreciate and craft tracks himself.
These were the days of the original Submerge, the headquarters of UR that housed both their studio and record distribution. These days, most techno fans who visit Detroit know of the current techno museum near the city's Midtown, while the original was connected to lofts Downtown at 2030 Grand River. It was a hotbed of producers and DJs who were pushing the boundaries of what techno could be. "If you could get some music through that camp, you were good. They ain't going to take just anything."
Banks tapped a protege of his for the "Hardlife" remix, the late, legendary Aaron-Carl. Carl was a staple of the clubs, both in the electronic music and gay scene. His dubby mix took "Hardlife" into a dance floor-oriented direction as opposed to the traditional song structure Gerald Mitchell usually adheres to. His placement of sparse sounds, harder tones and a monster organ riff opens up "Hardlife" to the peak-time techno DJ, who might otherwise shy away from overtly soulful sounds.
Towards the end of our chat I asked Mitchell when he realized the song had a longevity, a life of its own, and he was surprised to learn there was such an enduring interest around it. Although he hasn't listened to "Hardlife" in a long time, it came back to him easily as he recited the lyrics and hummed the melody in conversation. When I explained that many would consider this a modern dance floor classic, he seemed genuinely humbled at the revelation.
"That's God, that's spirituality,' he said. "Some sounds that came out of my brain and people enjoy it, and will enjoy it when I'm long gone. That is something I have always wanted ever since I was a kid."
I assure him that he's achieved that goal—I've personally heard it played in numerous cities, in different countries, and it always hits the mark for the crowd. Knowing that your art has the potential to reach and connect with dancers you may never meet is the crowning achievement for someone who cares more about the culture than success. "I'm not a millionaire, but I'm not broke either. I'm healthy, turning 61 this year. I'm having a great time in life."