Release Date: Feb 14, 2012
Record label: Global A Records
Genre(s): Electronic, Club/Dance
“Vienna, I love you / But you’re killing me”... Relationships with a place you call home can mirror family ties. On the one hand, you have unconditional love for your soil and/or parents – on the other hand, you have communication breakdowns and frustration. Just ask any ex-pat; they loved their country so much that they had to leave it behind rather than watch what was taking place inside of it.
If you don't know Tin Man-- California-hailing, Vienna-based Johannes Auvinen-- he's arguably one of modern techno's most cultish figures, with a distinct sense of fashion and aestheticism both visually and aurally. But is he really techno? He made his initial fame off the back of a bunch of fabulous acid 12"s, but he's always had a darker, more experimental side, and since 2009's Cool Wave has been incorporating an introverted and dignified half-goth, half-baroque pop sensibility to his productions. Scared from 2010 was even less hospitable, all spooky atmospheres and post-punk vocals, and last year's follow-up, Perfume, brought back some of the techno-friendly snares and kicks but still centered around Auvinen's offbeat, sometimes off-key baritone.
To say that Tin Man's latest release is something of a departure immediately begs the question: "What is it exactly that Tin Man does?" Starting out producing acid house twelve-inches on the Finnish-based Keys of Life label, Californian-born Johannes Auvinen's subsequent work exists in a world between brooding singer-songwriter and strange, off-kilter dance music. Although far from dance floor material, it's informed by minimal techno and house. With Vienna Blue (a homage to his adopted home in the Austrian capital), Auvinen augments his electronics with a heavy dose of classical instrumentation, employing cello, violin and clarinet.
Mozart. Classicism. Sausages. The Danube in the morning. Coffeehouses, philosophers and palaces. Tram bells and knee-deep snow. Provocative glances as dinner suits glide past wine-toting ball gowns (rapt in expensive conversation) at the state opera house bar. A long, lonely walk home through a ….