Levon Vincent: An Introduction

I’m not sure many people have written more words about Levon Vincent at this point. As an editor at Resident Advisor, I was lucky to have a front row seat to Levon’s emergence as one of the most impressive and idiosyncratic house and techno producers of the half decade plus.

Levon certainly didn’t begin his production career in 2008. Look at his Discogs entry and you’ll see stray releases starting in 2002 on More Music NY. If you have one of those, you’re rather lucky: They were limited at the time and mostly ignored. Looking back, that was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to him. Forced to rethink his approach, he regrouped and forged a new sound. With no pressure – aside from the self-imposed kind – he was able to arrive at something utterly distinctive.

It’s clear that Levon owes a lot to Roland’s Space Echo – a building block of dub techno – but he used it differently than almost anyone else. Whereas most producers looked to make their tracks roll seamlessly, enveloping the listener in clouds of ambience, Levon always added something odd to the mix. (A keening organ on “1000 Miles from Home,” panting breaths for “Woman Is the Devil,” a malfunctioning air raid siren on “Solemn Days.”)

I think the secret to Levon’s biggest tracks is a simple one: He gets you to accept the strange as normal. There’s nothing else that sounds like the twisting snake charmer riff of “Six Figures.” Hear it once, though, and it sounds pre-ordained. Like all canon fodder, it’s as though these things were always out there in the ether, simply waiting to be pressed to wax and presented to the public.

In 2009, Levon officially became “a big deal.” He did a podcast for Resident Advisor that gave context to his work, putting it alongside Chicago and New York house legends. Then, his track “Late Nite Jam” was licensed by Tama Sumo for her Panorama Bar 02 mix. It made RA’s year-end tracks list, even if his remix of DJ Qu’s “Party People Clap” might be better.

Around this time, Levon began touring in earnest as a DJ. Idiosyncratic is once again the best word to describe what he does. In a scene dominated by jocks that keep the beat and vibe going at all costs, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a set where Levon – at some point – doesn’t let a song play all the way out and then begin on another vibe entirely. It’s a simple thing, but a trick that I don’t see utilized all that often – or to such brilliant effect. You can’t necessarily hear traces of this in his 2011 Boiler Room or 2013 fabric mixes, where he seamlessly puts together strange and disparate records like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Last weekend I had the pleasure of seeing Levon play again. His set was around three hours and nearly two-thirds of it sounded like new music. He’s been quiet on the release front since the end of 2012, and these tracks – predictably – sound like nothing he’s ever done... and as though no one else could have made them. Levon rarely announces anything he’s doing beforehand. (Boddika – a former drum & bass producer rarely keen to announce things – once marveled to me how Levon “keeps things tight.”) My suggestion is to keep an ear out. You’ll know it when you hear it.