Is That Door Alarmed? Krystal Klear warms up for his Labour of Love party

Manchester-based, Dublin-born producer Krystal Klear talks to us about his upcoming Labour of Love party at Soup Kitchen, and “hitting the bollocks out of it” the night before visiting Nile Rodgers' home studio

Feature by John Thorp | 04 Nov 2014

“I had to get the train to Connecticut the next day, 11am, standard DJ protocol,” explains Dec Lennon, otherwise known as Krystal Klear. “But I’m in New York! I’m not going to not have the night in. So I went out, hit the absolute bollocks out of it. Gave the apartment keys to some chick, literally couldn’t lock the door. Got out to the studio, and it was basically 24 hours of mild panic attacks, fear of fainting and holding in farts. Talking utter piss. Apart from that, the best fucking experience of my life.”

That experience might sound stressful at the best of times, but consider that Lennon was travelling to Connecticut in order to visit the home studio of none other than Mr Nile Rodgers. On this occasion, Lennon, 25, was joined by one Michael McDonald, formerly of Steely Dan and The Doobie Brothers. McDonald had arrived at Rodgers’ request, in order to lay down the vocal hooks on a track that Lennon had been working on with the disco and pop legend for nearly a year. Before complications arose, the task was originally intended for the UK’s Jessie Ware, and the involvement of McDonald was Lennon’s last-minute, Fantasy Dinner Party choice.

“Any other fucker would have picked someone dead obvious, but it’s Nile Rodgers, you know?” exclaims Lennon, ceaselessly enthusiastic but, by his own admittance, not so fresh following an evening (and morning) out boozing with techno supremo Paul Woolford. “Is that door alarmed?” he enquires, anticipating but ultimately avoiding a potential sharp exit from the bar we’re in. Still, recalling his recent transatlantic exploits, Lennon exudes the grateful air of a man recounting an actual living dream.

“I originally wanted to go for Beyoncé, because she’s my dream. But Niles has been quite active, and if I want to push the boat, who the fuck is going to think of Michael McDonald?” It’s a good point, and testimony to Lennon’s one-size-fits-all musical approach. “The track could sound two ways with the mix down,” he explains. “It could sound raw, it could sound pop. If it sounds very commercially pop, then we might make it big, if not let’s just do it right.”


“I’m not a party snob, but I want to be able to play every record I want to play” – Krystal Klear


Doing it right is important above all to Lennon; as one of the core residents of Manchester’s acclaimed Hoya:Hoya night, he strengthened his reputation with breathless sets that seamlessly blend disco, boogie, house, rap, pop and more, paying tribute to underground sounds of now and then. While staying true to the vision of fellow residents Jon K, Illum Sphere, Jonny Dub and Eclair Fifi, he nonetheless quickly embarked on his own distinctive solo career, releasing tracks through Rinse, as well as helming his own radio show on the London station. His single with Manchester vocalist Jenna G, Addiction, received huge support from the likes of Annie Mac, and in an alternative universe, or perhaps in New Jersey circa 1991, would have rightfully soared to the top of the charts.

“I am pretty ambitious,” Lennon admits, and quite happily too. “There’s a competitive streak in me, but I’m most competitive with myself. I beat myself up. But I think, if you’re doing something, it’s worth going for something unachievable from anyone’s perception, because if you get the middle ground, you’re going to be delighted. If you’re an artist of any description, you need a level of ambition and confidence. You’re in the public sphere, and people can rip you apart.”

For all his innate confidence, Lennon is also refreshingly honest, both in his perception of the music business as a whole, and of his own career. His Cold Tonic label, run with friend and fellow DJ Maurice Alexander, began life as a stylish photo blog capturing the rather buoyant-looking life of Krystal Klear and his pals in the rave and beyond, and now extends to a record label that offers a distinct diversion from Lennon’s hymns to pop. “Truth be told, it started off as a photo blog, then a brand idea,” adds Lennon. “Not a brand like Coca-Cola, but we like the name, and the aesthetic. Now we want to push the boundaries of it, and see where we can take it.”

His own music has occupied the first three releases, consisting of bumping but painstakingly detailed club tracks that wouldn’t, and don’t, sound out of place in the record boxes of pals like Joy Orbison, Jackmaster and Skream. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Michael McDonald doesn’t show up on the valve-release funk of his own Tun Valve, which sounds so ecstatic you can practically feel the sweat pouring from the roof. Further dancefloor-focused material is set to follow, from Lennon as well as others.

“It’s a very conscious decision,” he explains. “I had a backlog of music that wasn’t necessarily what people had heard. And I went through a bit of a dark patch in my career where I released a couple of records that I wasn’t in fact entirely proud of. I just didn’t stand behind them, because I made the tunes a long time before they came out. And by that time, the sound was all over the place… That 90s house sound had been rinsed. So my best move was to do quite evidently pop stuff, and then, Cold Tonic. The pop stuff is the right side of my head and Cold Tonic is the left.”

Dismissing the slightly dodgy ‘nu-disco’ tag he was first mistakenly filed under, Lennon, through his time in the studio and on the road, has developed a more encompassing approach to music that’s to be expected from a man who spent his more formative years involved in rock and metal.

“Underground guys, or whatever way you want to look at it, what’s fashionable plays a massive role in their attitude. At the end of the day, it’s all music, so I don’t give a fuck,” Lennon says. “You can criticise quality, always jump on the quality-slagging bandwagon, 100%. But if I’m playing a Shed tune out, then going home and listening to Bell Biv DeVoe on my iPod, to me they’re the exact same thing, as I get an emotion that makes me feel good about what I’m doing. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true.”

Nonetheless, for all his own openness, Lennon notes that the split between the worlds of pop, disco, house and techno has left him with a DJ schedule that’s “the definition of a mixed bag.”

“I just like being in the rave,” Lennon acknowledges. “But after a while, I made a more conscious decision about the parties I played. I’m not a party snob, but I want to be able to play every record I want to play, I don’t want to feel awkward, which can happen both in the UK and Europe.” Returning this month to Manchester’s Soup Kitchen, Labour of Love, as the name suggests, is a party done the Krystal Klear way, allowing himself and friends that very freedom.

“It started with wanting to bring over Slow to Speak [of legendary East Coast record shop Dope Jams] to Glasgow and London, and they were the best DJs I’ve ever seen,” Lennon recalls. “I thought it would be good to put on a party, and you think, “we’ll serve this type of beer, use this type of sound system,” and it never happens. But with Hoya:Hoya’s approval, we did one at Soup Kitchen back in June. And it was the best party I played all year, it was up there with Panorama Bar for me.”

Lennon’s personally-invited guests for the second edition of Labour of Love at Soup Kitchen are another set of New York party starters, Mister Saturday Night, aka Justin Carter and Eamon Harkin, one of the few DJ duos who have managed to serve the beer they want and install the sound system they want at their own renowned parties. But with his increasingly busy production schedule alongside his hectic DJ commitments, surely Lennon isn’t getting involved in the promoter game?

“It’s not a Manchester party, it’s more of a worldwide party,” he explains. “I know that sounds a bit stupid, but it’s just doing it when we’ve got the right guys, and the vibe is right. And I want it to feel like a real rotation policy in terms of ‘just bring your shit, how long do you want to play?'”

Krystal Klear brings Labour of Love to Soup Kitchen, Manchester, on 8 Nov