This Ep again showcases Dennis diversity and distinct ability to gofrom uplifting spiritual deepness to hot, underground, deep, danceable,head nodding tech.
‘Through the trials and tribulations of my life, music has never left me. Never left.’ 'Let's get this right: I'm not a producer. I'm a song writer/producer.' 'As long as it's 4/4, bumping and a club record, I'm happy - I don't want to make anything sleepy.'
With such a statement it's obvious Dennis Ferer's passion for music is beyond question, and this unquenchable thisrt is largely, attributableto his childhood: one of his earliest recollections is thinking theivories of a toy piano aged four in a soul-and-disco-obsessed NYC house hold
Another vivid memory is as an eight-year-old, making after-school trips to local record shops to buy rap records, as both his ears and imagination were captured by the birth of hip hop in and around his New York neighborhood.
'I was born in 1970 but I'm more a child of the early 1980s and late 1970s onwards: As a kid I remember chic's Le Freak, and Rapper’s Delight” he recalls.
He also scoured the Columbia Records catalogue that his parents and aunts would use to purchase their music, and bought records with interesting names, such as the Doobie Brothers, or Kiss because of their striking LP covers. 'They were great times. We listened to Chic, Sugar Hill, Kiss, Rush and AC/DC - everything rolled side by side, there were no genres or the genres were easy listening, rock and soul.’
‘And that's my approach to music today: I grew up in the whatever age, where you would listen to everything and I'm doing the same thing now,' continues Ferrer. 'That's why people are surprised by my variety like if I do a tech thing, or an Afro thing, or a soulful record. That's the way I grew up. I didn't listen to one type of music.'
Ferrer is quite literally an exceptional producer, in that he writes 90% of what you hear on one of his records, from lyrics to melodies to beats. His specialty is songs ('That's what I grew up with and that's what wrong with this business, there's not enough songs'). Forthcoming LP, The World As I See It, redresses this imbalance: with a healthy representation of song-based house - or dance music with feeling and a message.
He is also exceptional because he's the anti-thesis of the anonymous dance music producer: he uses his real name - no pseudonyms, monikers, or abbreviations. That's because he's prepared to stand up and be counted, putting blood, sweat and tears into his records: 'This is who I am, this is not my job, this is what I love to do: when you get one of my records, there's quality - you're not getting cheated, I put my heart in it.'
Inspiration, however, can strike at the most unexpected of moments, and you have to be prepared: 'You can be taking a sh*t and be humming something and come up with a lyric and then have to run to the studio or write it down,' laughs Ferrer. 'Life is my muse - whether I'm having a sh*tty day, or I am happy or pissed off, what I write is coming from my heart. He’s been schooled by house and electronic music's leading lights of the last 15 years including early 1990s acid techno pioneer Damon Wild (behind Synewave Records), Kerri Chandler who set up a studio for Ferrer in his front room, and 'brought the soulful element into my life', while Kerri's good friend AROUND THE WORLD WITH DENNIS FERRER VIDEO REPORT
The logical step for a producer at the top of his game, is an artist album: The World As I See It. Dennis debut LP for King Street / Defected is an amalgamation of myriad, global sounds, expertly honed into soul-stirring house music and each track is a journey, with subtle detail: the soul from the belly gospel-tech flavored Church Lady, takes an unexpected twist four minutes in; the nourishing love song Touch The Sky is underpinned by off kilter, fuzzy electronic melodies and bongo percussion; the largely instrumental P 2 Da J is full of sharp and punchy chords and melodies, mesmerizing chanting and underpinned by a relentless, thumping bassline; similarly Son Of Raw's fuzzy electronic feel is bumping, with stabs of pads and pianos; Transitions' grooves undulate, tumbling, then pumping and steadied tribal drums; How Do I Let Go is a heartbreak elegy, recalling that desolate moment of realization that a relationship is over and will never be the same again; while Destination is pure dance floor drama which sees the Balkans on an aural collision course with Brazil and of course, underground New York house.
Discerning house dance floors across the global village couldn't have a more apt - or unifying - soundtrack.
