Recondite Is the Most Important Name in Techno You Haven’t Heard Yet

It was 9:30 pm, and faces were glum—to put it mildly.

This was the third time a crew known as Dirty Epic Productions had attempted to bring Recondite out for a gig, after visas and travel issues botched the prior two attempts. Until LAPD Vice courteously showed up to shut down a party that hadn’t even started, this one was supposed to be the charm.

One year ago, booking Recondite for a 90-minute live show would have been a forward-thinking, off-the-beaten-path venture for a promoter. Now, Lorenz Brunner—as he is known on passports and bank statements—has blown up. A few facts support this claim.

First, he’ll be releasing an LP called Iffy on Dixon’s Innervisions in November, which is as close to a highbrow musical seal of approval as exists in dance music today.

Second, he’s billed with the likes of Richie Hawtin, Hot Since 82 and the Martinez Brothers on Friday’s ENTER. stage at this year’s Insomniac Halloween two-day extravaganza Escape: All Hallows’ Eve.

And third, as the designated artist hospitality handler for the aforementioned evening at the end of September, I saw Recondite’s drawing power firsthand. With the original venue on the southeast outskirts of Downtown L.A. compromised, the hastily found backup venue was a bona fide dive bar smack-dab in the middle of Inglewood.

I left an empty venue with the lights still on and sound still getting set up around midnight to pick up Mr. Brunner, nervous about how different things would look when I returned with him about 45 minutes later.

“For a couple of years, my viewpoint was that it is much easier to stay honest in your art when you are not financially reliant on it. Right now, I’m trying to prove myself wrong.”

At the very least, I treated Recondite to his first In-N-Out (Double-Double, no onions), so there would always be that. When we returned, it was a 180-degree transformation.

It was packed, and not just with your run-of-the-mill warehouse techno-heads. People with looks and outfits better suited for Sound or Exchange had braved a last-minute venue change and made the trek deep into South Los Angeles—to a place that looked like it should have a drunk Randy Quaid lying in the corner cradling a Steel Reserve—just to catch the L.A. debut of Recondite’s Ableton-fueled live set.

When Recondite took to the Funktion One, the hooting and hollering of the crowd was pronounced and prolonged. People were INTO IT. They wouldn’t even shut up when the sound system finally got the best of the old-school circuit board and had to be rebooted. No one, not Recondite or the crowd, missed a beat.

And the beats came. There’s a hypnotic quality to his music that draws you in with its subtle arrangements and then smacks you across the face with some seriously dense bass that is wobbly without being obnoxious. No wonder Dixon was on board. To call what he threw down “techno” would do it a great disservice.

As I discovered in conversation on the drive back to his hotel, Lorenz Brunner is just as pensive and methodical as his productions might suggest. Here are his answers to several questions I was able to pose to him immediately after his departure.

This past year has been a whirlwind for you. Tell us a little about when you knew things were accelerating and how the ride has been so far.
To be honest, there was no point where I thought, “Okay, things are picking up. Let’s do this.” It really seemed quite natural after years of constant development. From the outside, it may seem fast, but for me it was still organic in a way. I spent five to six years only in the studio without releasing anything, and another 10 years before that to listen and heavily collect music and DJ in order to filter what I like about music, which eventually got me focused on what I wanted to do.

Did you ever imagine during the 10 years you were a physical therapist that your hobby would eventually become your main focus in life?
“Imagine,” yes, because I can imagine many things, but “expect,” no. Actually, for a couple of years my viewpoint was that it is much easier to stay honest in your art when you are not financially reliant on it. Right now, I’m trying to prove myself wrong.

How have you adjusted from making music purely for yourself as a hobby to it being a source of income? Has injecting business into the hobby changed your approach or philosophy at all?
This is an interesting topic, as the whole evolution of things sometimes holds surprises within. Right now it all seems to go together extremely well. I get to make my art and actually use it onstage to present it. So people have interest in my creative output, and if this interest makes me financially independent, that’s a privilege. But I’m aware that, especially nowadays, peoples’ interests can change rapidly (which can also be a good thing), which means that I will eventually have to be flexible and not take anything for granted.

What worries you the most about your success?
Maybe I should say things like “I’m worried about losing the connection to friends and family,“ or “being afraid of the ‘what goes up must come down’ phenomenon,” but both things are not the case. Actually, I never had many diverse social contacts, but the ones I have (close family and friends) are stronger than ever. I’m very grateful for the possibilities you have these days in terms of communication. I’m constantly writing texts and emails and having calls with my family and my close friends, wherever I am. I feel very connected to them, and we keep each other updated a lot. And then when we have physical sightings—it’s amazing!

And about the other thing—like I said in the last question. I think you need to be aware of potential lows and stay flexible. So what worries me really sometimes is the lack of sleep, to be honest, because that can give you a bad mood even if everything is fine.

“If something accessible from my side stays behind for people in the afterworld it will be my music, and if they can still relate to that slightly melancholic, deep, uncertain, fragile but harmonic vibe—that’s the best thing I could ever achieve musically.”

What makes you the happiest?
There are many things that make me very happy. For example, when I arrive at my grandma’s house in Bavaria (even though she does not live anymore) and I walk into the garden and maybe even climb up the tree I used to climb as a child. But when I think of music, I think the happiest moment is when I sit there and work on a track, lose myself in it, and work on it for two hours and suddenly wake up and instantly understand why my subconscious made me create this track and that atmosphere—because that was the mood I was recently in due to whatever circumstances surrounded me at the time.