"Emmanuel Dauchez, born October 16th 1970, discovered electronic music in 1991 during a rave party presented by members of Planet Core Productions. He initially started mixing trance and techno in the early 1990s before focusing on hardcore [These CDs are V-E-R-Y hardcore --S]. He built his reputation in the after-partys of the first Parisian raves. His dark style is partly inspired by the work of Swiss artist H.R. Giger. He has tattooed half of his upper torso in Giger's biomechanical style."
2019 interview...
What does "Le Malin" mean?
It's actually from a funny French movie, Les Frères Pétard (The Joint Brothers), from the '80s. Two losers in Paris try to make a hashish deal, and every time they fail. One of the guys is called Manu and in a certain scene his partner is saying: "Manu Le Malin, the guy who always succeeds." But it's a joke. It's a big joke. And for me, taking that name was a joke. My friend said, "We've got the flyer for the first party, do you have a name? You need a name." I thought, let's call myself Manu Le Malin then. It's just one time. It's just for fun.
What party was that?
12 November, 1992. That was the very first official one.
But you were playing illegal parties before that?
A little bit. Not being booked, just turning up with my record bags.
Can you take us back to that 1992 rave?
It was just so good that I am still doing it, still raving 25 years later. That's all I have to say about it.
How did you start DJing?
I used to collect records way before techno. I had a collection of Trojan Records, some other soul records, ska, stuff like this. So I had some records and I was DJing without knowing it. At parties for friends I'd put some records on turntables and just played songs. Then techno happened. I had one turntable with no pitch. I bought another really cheap one with pitch, a mixer and some small speakers and started playing the same records over and over. But the music was the thing. When you come back from partying and you're in that psychedelic vibe and you just want to recreate it in your little room where you are living. That's how it happened for me. I went deep into the core, and I don't mean hardcore.
What were you playing back then?
I was playing trance, house, dance music records, because my tastes were not made yet. I was buying records just because of the cover, or because I heard a song in a gay club. I have a collection of gay anthems actually, and I love it still. Like P.J.B.'s "Bridge Over Troubled Water", a house version with a big vocal. They are the only records that are not lost somewhere in my apartment because I still have those in a little box I carry everywhere. It's like my guilty pleasure. That was not about the underground at all, I was just buying records. Then I went to Thunderdome, end of story. Thunderdome '93 changed my life.
What was so special about Thunderdome '93?
30,000 people in one room, I had never experienced that before. 100K sound, never experienced that either. It was at the Jaarbeurs in Utrecht with the Octopus (ride) in the middle of the room. Everyone was dancing in the same way, dressed in the same way, and I thought, "This is it." I went there with a bus company that organised travel to parties from France. I heard something was going on in Holland, but I was not prepared. The next thing I know, it's the morning after and I'm wearing a red long sleeved shirt (I never wear colour) from Mokum Records that says: "No Racism, No Fascism." It's the afterparty and they're playing proper gabber, and I'm dancing like everyone else. I thought, OK, I've found my nest. I never became a gabber DJ at all, but the Dutch culture turned me from a hard techno-whatever DJ to a young hardcore DJ playing PCP and Industrial Strength.
What was the early '90s hardcore scene in Paris like?
The scene was really active. We all knew each other, and we don't know each other...Parisian politics. The hardcore was really serious though [Godfucking right it was. --S]. No cheese at all. That's a French thing: we eat the cheese, we don't play it.
At the same time you were deeply into techno. In Sous Le Donjon, Laurent Garnier says there was a "turf war" happening between the early hardcore and techno scenes in France. Did you experience this?
If you're hardcore, you're hardcore, and that's it. You didn't go to clubs and listen to Garnier, as I did. But I said, "I'm going to do whatever I want to do, go wherever I want to go, and play whatever I want to play." I was playing techno, hardcore, playing at a club, a free party, no boxes, no labels. I was really connected to the illegal scene with Teknokrat, then Heretik, Infrabase, and recently Kraken. But I was also in the legal scene with the label (Bloc 46) and playing in clubs. I was doing le grand écart (the big split). I'm the Jean-Claude Van Damme of hardcore.
Did you want to be a producer?
It was a logical progression.
How did you get signed to Industrial Strength?
I met Lenny Dee really early, in '93. We had to do a CD together called Hardcore Vol. 2 on Fairway Records. That was my first DJ CD mix. We became great friends. He's my mentor, really. When I came back from Thunderdome '93, I was buying up PCP and Industrial Strength records. Then I meet Lenny. Then my first record lands on Industrial Strength. I was the happiest guy, and I am still really proud to be Lenny's friend. It's funny, that first record he made had so many mistakes in the credits. My name was spelt wrong. And Daft Punk was written wrong as well (as Draft Ponk). Thomas Bangalter did the record with me. At the time I had no gear. We did two tracks together, and you can feel it. He's an animal behind the machines.
How did you meet?
I was a night owl, going from one club to another. At the time I was playing that first EP (The New Wave) on Soma which came out before Homework. I was playing this record at some party and Thomas was there. They were living in Paris, so I said let's meet in the studio.
Do you prefer producing with other people?
I've been making music with Electric Rescue as W.LV.S. But now I'm having a new workstation installed in my place. No more analogue, no more gear with lots of dusting. Because of my terrible way of life over the last ten years, most of my gear has been lost or broken or was sold for gambling. So now I am starting from zero. I was on Cubase before, now I am starting with Ableton. I bought some gear, a 16 channel Faderport for the digital mixer and an Ableton Push 2 so I can use my hands. I have ten fingers. My eyes, forget about it, I'm blind. And I hope I can hear. Maybe not, I don't know. Maybe it's been so long I haven't done anything by myself that I'll be like, it's over. But I don't think so. I miss it. I miss it a lot.
Why are you returning to solo production now, after so many years?
Better life, better way of life. No more gambling, no bullshit. I have my own apartment. I am not sleeping on my friend's couch anymore. I can buy some new gear and a new workstation. I have a lot of friends who helped me with this. Especially the Astropolis guys, they helped me a lot. They saved me. They grabbed me and dragged me out of the shit. I said, "Don't waste your time. I hate myself, I hate people," and all this bullshit when you are in the fucking pit. But they insisted. And thanks to them!
Was there a turning point?
About four years ago or something? A lot has changed. I destroyed my life. It took me four years...with help...to be with you today. And the music was the key, of course. When you don't trust yourself any more and you don't trust people, music brings you closer together than you think. That's what music does: reunites people. I'm a DJ, I just play records. No big deal. I can stay at home and play for myself, but I play for people or I play in front of people. And in the last four years that has given me something back. I feel good about it. That's something that I lost a long time ago.
Like a healing process?
Music patches up your bruises. I loved music from the first day. Before I was born, my mother was listening to a lot of music. She's probably the one that gave me this passion for music. We had a difficult way of life but she was always into music and I was close to her. There's a well known phrase: "Si tu veux faire entrer la lumière il faut craquer le crâne," which means, "If you want to let in the light you have to crack open the skull." Sometimes music can hurt you a lot. It can be really painful. But in the end, as I love to think, music will always help and be the last woman standing.
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