I really don’t know how to call the whole ‘sound’ thing, man: it all kind of gets a bit, y’know… as soon as you start saying anything but ‘dubstep’, people look at you like ‘come on, mate’ – y’know what I mean? I’ll try and do it in the least fruity way possible… I like to think of it as exploring 140 – fuck it, I’ll use dubstep: exploring the dubstep template and UK underground bass music in general and incorporating my own influences, the music that I was listening to growing up, like hip-hop, you know, sample heavy boom bap hip-hop kind of shit, into that. Yep, I’m Commodo from Sheffield originally, and then recently I’m based kind of half here and half elsewhere. So despite the lack of label mates on the bill, it should be far from surprising to see Commodo’s name up there too.īy way of introduction, what’s your name, where are you from, and how would you describe your sound? Joker, Darq E Freaker, Dusk + Blackdown, Royal-T: these are all people who historically have cast off the shackles of genre definitions almost as quickly as music journalists and fans alike have been able to squeeze them into a pigeonhole. In his own words, Commodo is almost actively “not trying to join any particular scene,” so it’s perhaps a testament to this that he should make his fabric Room One debut on a lineup dominated by artists who have consistently pushed the envelope in terms of how their music can be defined.ĭespite the grime association that will no doubt (and however unfairly) follow the Butterz tag, April 10th’s main room is packed with pioneering talent. He’s refreshingly frank about everything, from his views on depressingly-formulaic dubstep records (“neurofunk drum & bass shit at a different tempo”) to the need to keep testing his own approach (“I’m pretty riff-based these days, I might have to switch it up”). That desire to leave a recognisable stamp on a record is, if anything, about as close as Commodo comes to a sense of direction. He’s clear on the utmost importance of originality and leaving his own impression on a listener, and he’s genuinely humble in his own successful achievement of it too. Or rather – and this is absolutely key – his lack of direction.Ĭommodo channels dubstep’s - and for that matter grime’s - early spirit not in a self-referential way that relies on borrowing now-nostalgic sound palettes and introducing them to a generation too young to have been in the clubs in the genres’ so-called golden days, but rather in the sense of creative, borderless freedom that made these scenes so exciting in the first place. Over the course of an hour or so in conversation, much of what Commodo says is prefixed with a drifting “I don’t know…” or affixed with a searching “do y’know what I mean?”, but these conversational tics belie a confidence in his own direction as a producer.
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