A while back, the producer and DJ Paul Woolford rang Dec Lennon, aka Krystal Klear. Woolford knew the young Irishman was unhappy. Lennon was shedding the accoutrements of a successful DJing career – elements of the team around him, and the act of DJing itself. Having risen to a certain level from Dublin to Manchester to London, on paper, everything looked swell. But Lennon had lost focus. He set out to make music and produce records, yet after establishing the record label Cold Tonic, he found himself sometimes DJing in clubs to the wrong audiences and frustrated by how his creative time was bring squeezed.
Six words Woolford said down the phone have stayed with Lennon ever since: “Produce your way out of it.” When he hung up, Lennon wrote the advice down on a piece of paper and put it on the top of his screen in his studio.
You could always hear the craft and sense of development in Lennon's releases in the mid-2000s, music that was definitely facing in the right direction but perhaps unsure of how to proceed. In 2017, a beefier sound emerged, with the tracks 'Danceteria' and 'Keith Haring'. But 2018's EP release The Division, on the acclaimed label Running Back, is a massive lurch forward.
A previously somewhat anaemic sound has turned into a monstrous one. Krystal Klear is reborn
This summer, his tune Neutron Dance blasts from clubs, festival stages, cars and house parties. It’s not a one-off. Division Ave is a track that feels like it’s been around forever, the sound of a drone synchronising with Manhattan’s traffic lights. The tune that got him signed to Running Back, Shockzoid has urgent, attention-grabbing momentum and a stadium-sized riff. Crucially there is a sense of emotional depth in these songs. They are evocative and bold, confident and fully realised. The hesitation is gone. A previously somewhat anaemic sound has turned into a monstrous one. Krystal Klear is reborn.
Shame
Two years ago, Lennon found himself looking through his repertoire of work on the website Discogs. The tunes he wasn’t happy with stood out, things that weren’t “up to standard, and I was a little bit ashamed of”.
He questioned why he made certain songs, thinking, “I don’t know why I did that. Oh, the money was good.” He gained massive recognition for a Sky Ferreira remix of ‘Everything Is Embarrassing’, a harmless and well-received number in early 2013. Recalling making that track, he says, “I had three days before I left Manchester for Christmas break and my manager was like ‘I got you a remix, the money’s good, do you want to do it?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, alright, I’ll knock this shit out in three days.’ Disrespectfully, I kind of did. It was a real knock-out thing. I didn’t like it, I wasn’t mad happy with it, but the money was good.
“The next thing you know, it’s Stereogum, and it’s top of Hype Machine, and it’s this million views and that million plays, and I’m going ‘What? I don’t even like this. Okay.’ You’re painted then with that for a while: ‘play the Sky Ferreira remix’.”
Back to the studio
Being led by a cheque that didn’t necessarily result in the standard of quality Lennon set himself, clarified things. If he really wanted to realise his ambitions, he had to step out of the DJing rat race. Grinding away in the studio, the work began to pay off creatively.
“What I have achieved is a solitude in the studio where I know how to make exactly what it is that I want, without diluting the product or compromising it.” That studio is on South William Street, a large, no-frills room with exposed brick, and windows letting the Dublin light flow in.
Lennon’s goal was to sign to Running Back, calling that ambition his “absolute dream for at least seven years . . . I just want to be on that label. It’s just the coolest label in the world. It covers everything in a manner that’s consistent.” The label is run by Gerd Janson, and has released tracks by Todd Terje, Theo Parrish, Roman Flugel, Prosumer, and more.
Prolific creator
Anyone who follows Lennon on Instagram will clock his ability to create prolifically. He teases works in progress constantly, a staggering number of beginnings of tunes, ideas, riffs. But it’s finishing them that’s the tough part. “Sequencing is my worst nightmare. I speak to [Gerd] Janson about it on a daily basis like, ‘As usual, I’ve knocked out a banging 32, now I have to make this into six minutes of music, how is this happening?’ Sequencing is a pain in the arse.”
The way his mind works is that one idea almost instantly triggers another. Before he finishes a riff he’s playing with his left hand, he’s already thinking of the snare roll with his right. The key elements of most of the songs he has released are completed within 20 minutes.
Case in point, ‘Neutron Dance’, a track that is monopolising sets in clubs around Europe right now, and is only going to get bigger. The riff, bass and drums were done in around 15 minutes. Mid-composition, his cousin came into this studio and Lennon played the tune, confident that the riff was “annoyingly good”. His cousin didn’t like it. Later that day, Lennon got a text from said cousin, “I can’t get it out of my head.” After that, it took a month or two to fully stretch the tune out the way he wanted it.
‘Shockzoid’ is the track that got him signed to Running Back, but when Lennon and Gerd Janson started playing ‘Neutron Dance’ in their DJ sets, the reaction was pronounced. “Don’t they say that’s always the way? It’s the song you least expect to do the business that sometimes does.”
Early influences
Lennon’s father was a pirate radio DJ. As a kid, Lennon recalls Prefab Sprout tunes playing in his dad’s car. “I remember listening to ‘When Love Breaks Down’ when I was about 10. We were driving through Pembroke Villas, I was getting dropped off to meet my mate from school.” Young Lennon was obsessed with ‘We Close Our Eyes’ by Go West, and loved Pet Shop Boys’ ‘West End Girls’. What’s the common denominator?
“They’ve made music that’s incredibly warm using only cold components. That’s what I think I like about it all. You listen to a Motown record, pure instrumentation, or anything like a Quincy Jones record, and you’ve got the warm Rhodes, the fat bass, the thick drums, the really pinch-y lovely hats that resonate throughout the whole thing, then you’ve strings which are just cream, then you add a vocal. It’s perfectly warm texturally.
“But with all Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, Human League, late 80s records, even New Order, they’re using a DX synth which is digital synthesis which is all very thin and tinny sounding. They’re using LinnDrums, not like Prince necessarily because he added live drums to it, but drum machines. All of these components, when you listen to them, they don’t have that same level of warmth. But what I love about those records is that texturally they all manage to make them sound really thick and warm, which is what to me makes them really cool.”
Well equipped
Walking around his studio, he details his gear. First up, a Juno 106 synth, “I use that on everything. It’s one of the best synths ever made. I bought mine for 200 quid from a guy in Liverpool.” Next up, a Moog Voyager, and the first synth he ever bought when he was 14, a microKorg. There’s a Korg Poly-800, and a Yamaha DX21 and DX7, “The DX7 would be predominantly known as the ‘Thriller’ synth, it’s used on a shit tonne of 80s Quincy [Jones] productions. 21 is the light version, but there’s four sounds in that I just can’t get anywhere else.” There’s a Korg M1, “or, as anyone would tell you, the ‘house’ synth . . . because of the house organ”. There’s his electric guitar, “It’s an ace in the hole,” and a Roland TR-909 signed by Robert Hood, which he brought from Eamon D1.
Roland sent him a TR-8S, which has the circuit-models of an 808, 909 and 707. Finally a 303 for an acid sound. “I don’t think there’s any right or wrong way, but for me, this is my formula. This is how I get my end product and what I feel most comfortable around. You could put me in front of a modular synth and I wouldn’t know what to do . . . I know a lot of guys – who I call PE teachers – they spend a shit amount of money and time on an abundance of equipment. They’re constantly buying new gear, and they know it inside out. Jesus, they could midi a giraffe to a 909 and make it work, but they can’t make a tune. I would tell anyone: don’t get overly obsessed with having this thing or that thing, just get what you think you want, learn it, and use it.”
New York
Lennon didn’t want to be that DJ who “just has to play bangers for 60 minutes and make people go mad. I wouldn’t enjoy that.” The energy he gravitated towards was in New York, where he now spends a lot of his time. “New York doesn’t care who you are. You’re here, be humble, do your thing, have a good time, and everyone will get along fine.”
I'm constantly writing ideas, and then I come back here [Dublin] and I just explode. I let it all out
When he walks down the street in New York, he thinks of Larry Levan, Danny Tenaglia. He thinks about the nightclubs Twilo and Paradise Garage. He thinks of the artists Kenny Scharf and Dash Snow, “these people were in this neighbourhood that I live in or that I roam in. There’s something that gives you this energy that you want to be creative constantly.
“For me, the kind of way I work is I’m over there, I get this pent-up creative tension, I sketch ideas on my computer, I’m constantly writing ideas, and then I come back here [Dublin] and I just explode. I let it all out.”
Positive visualisation
Around seven months ago, Lennon became more invested in positive visualisation. Despite feeling anxious about how the EP release would progress, he held a mental line about it being successful. Lennon is a man who likes to tick something off a list. In his apartment and studio, he has photos of things that influence or inspire him. There’s an intensity to his approach, and he has tried to become more laidback in recent months.
“I’m a goal person. If I have something that I’m working towards, it aligns your focus, it gives you a reason to wake up every day. If it was as simple as ‘whatever’, my brain is too frantic, there has to be stabilisers on it, otherwise it would go everywhere. If I know I’m focusing on something, it drives the energy in a much better way, as opposed to ‘whatever’. I’m not a ‘whatever’ guy. I didn’t smoke weed growing up. I’ve always been quite anal about wanting to complete things and get things done.”
Believe in yourself
Self-actualisation is about talent, it’s about motivation, it’s about focus, it’s about not fearing honest creative expression. But it’s also about hard work. Lennon put his head down, believed in himself, and shut out the noise of the industry, of what’s fashionable, or what makes a quick buck.
“I’ve diluted so many good ideas over the past 10 years of my career where I’ve had one manager pull me this way, or another influential artist friend pull me another way, or a DJ friend who comes in and tells you ‘you should do this’. And because you’re in a moment of crisis perhaps, you’re not sure what’s going on in your career, you start to make bad decisions because you can’t remember what your original decision was.”
Now, he says, he has a real grasp on what he’s doing, from an EP release, to his series of T-shirt designs. In the past, Lennon says he has been humbled by his mistakes. He believes in luck, being in the right place at the right time, but also falls back on his aunt’s philosophy: the harder you work, the luckier you get.
“I’ve worked my ass off to get to the position that I’m in now. There have been so many ups and downs in the past two years. Had you spoken to me a year ago, it would have been a very different conversation. I would have had no agent, no manager, no release signed with anyone. I was still in Ireland wondering: have I just gone and risked everything to go back to square one?
“The best advice I could give would be to go with your gut instinct, no matter what people are telling you around you. I’ve neglected that, and it’s led me down some stupid paths. In the last while I’ve only gone with my gut and it’s paid off more than anything else.”
Krystal Klear's EP The Division is on Running Back
