Fifteen years ago, Armand Van Helden's "Witch Doktor" dominated dance scenes around the world, serving as the lead song on the soundtrack into purgatory with its hellish alarms. However, instead of frantic sinners running for cover, excited club goers ran toward the dance floor.
Since then, a string of successes followed: a 1998 Grammy nomination for remixer of the year; remixing for Tori Amos, Britney Spears and Janet Jackson; and tossing out numerous dance joints of his own like "The Funk Phenomena" and the Billboard chart-topping "You Don't Know Me."
It's January 20, 2009 and Armand fails to answer his phone for our 3 p.m. interview. I expect this, as I've read he never answers his phone, something he later admits as somewhat factual. After few attempts and a call to his agent, I get through. I imagine his excuse resides with his eyes glued to that morning's events: President Barack Obama delivering his inaugural speech.
Negative. Passive on the historic moment, he says, "I think presidents are powerful people. They have the power to pass bills, but I think that's where there power ends."
Instead of dark eyes fixated on a television screen, they scramble from white walls in the lounge-area of his living space to a window with a view of a skyscraper or two. A Starbuck's double shot espresso and Naked Juice churn in his stomach on this "cold, but nice day." He seems spaced when asked general questions that get me general answers:
What's within your reach or in your pockets? An iPhone and a wallet.
Any resolutions for the New Year? Staying in the flow of the flow.
Where were some places you lived as a child? Turkey. Holland... Italy.
I sense his anxiousness and lasso him in with the meat and potatoes of the interview warping him back to his set at Crobar a month prior. A dramatic six inches barrels in cars outside the venue where inside, his DJ booth towers, God-like, over a sea of "Tic Tac" poppers, orange tans, Armani Exchange and an Armand carbon copy or two.
How did the decision to spin at Crobar, for a recession-busting event on top it all, come about?
An agent does all my stuff. They basically hit me up once a week asking, "Do you wanna spin here? Do you wanna spin there?" They don't tell me what clubs, just cities. I don't play the States often and I only play one weekend a month. That's kinda my average.
Did you find the crowd more or less engaged than in cities elsewhere?
The crowds in Europe tend to confuse me for guys that spin more adult. I play kinda childish. I'm old, but I play like a child. The crowd at Crobar, to me, seemed awesome. I don't play sets - anything Chicago - like in terms of the history. A lot of people who own up and come out of Chicago represent that groove, and I'm not a great groove DJ, never been. Maybe in my earlier days I was all concerned with playing instrumentals, really groovin' them out - that's a very Chicago thing. But I look at dance music in an odd light. It's probably not healthy, but I always look at it in a rock or hip-hop sensibility. I'm always the enemy of house in a way; I'm always trying to bring those things into house.
Fans always have expectations of their favorite artists. What in turn do you expect of an Armand van Helden fan?
That's a great question. I've watched people in interviews, on TV, and I've noticed people saying "my fans." I don't use that vocabulary. I don't use those two words, because I don't think I have any. I know there are people, because they come up to me and they say their piece, and I appreciate it of course. I just don't make music to think about them. I'm not saying I'm selfish. I'm just saying I enjoy making music like a painter enjoys painting a picture. My big problem is, I don't give a fuck! [laughs] I can't tell you if it's a positive or a negative.
