Tucked away in the southeastern corner of Norway you’ll find the town of Moss, home to 25,000 and a self-proclaimed ‘City without Vision’. It is the unlikely home of Sex Tags Mania, a label run by brothers Stefan and Peter Mitterer, who have fought against their rudderless surroundings to create one of the most eclectic, enigmatic and forward thinking labels around.
Now for the tricky part: trying to describe them, sonically-speaking. A dig through the Sex Tags crate will uncover sounds ranging from disco, deep house, techno, afrobeat, Russian electronic, goth-pop, psychedelic rock, instrumental hip-hop and the list goes on. Chris Farrell, owner of Bristol’s Idle Hands, has frequently named Sex Tags releases as some of the record shop’s most popular, so it was only a matter of time before they made an appearance in the city. Thankfully Dirtytalk took the plunge, bringing label figureheads DJs Sotofett and Fett Burger to the upstairs of the Motorcycle Showroom . After a rumoured drop-in at a metal gig earlier in the evening (the band were called Beggar if any Set Tags enthusiasts are looking for an insight into the label’s next possible creative direction), we were treated to a truly diverse evening of dance music.
If the diverse output of Sex Tags has been the main source of their cult following, then seeing and hearing them live only furthers this reputation; and the experience is very much an audiovisual one. Not for the extravagant lighting and staging (of which there was little, save for a hand-made banner exclaiming the evening’s main attraction), but just the spectacle of watching two DJs at the peak of their craft. Behind the decks, Sotofett and Fettburger had an intuitive relationship. Drifting silently between record box and turntable, it almost seemed rehearsed in its fluidity. Yet the mixing was so impressive there was a constant row of spectators at the front. Not dancing, just watching. Fascinated, entranced and frozen to the spot.
The majority of the evening occupied the space between house and disco, with Kerri Chandler a mainstay and some forgotten gems from Blaze and Montana Sextet also surfaced. Then, with the ushering in of an Errol Dunkley classic, we were taken dubside. No sooner were we accustomed to that unexpected turn, the clocks were wound back twenty years to a Bristol where jungle was king. For the more seasoned heads at the Showroom, this was a welcome trip down memory lane, but for us younger folk it was a rare opportunity to relive a pivotal era in the city’s musical history. By this time the crowd had started to thin, which only afforded those who remained the necessary space to let loose. It was even too much for Fett Burger to keep still, who ventured onto the dancefloor to join the party. We heard that wasn’t the last of it, but the ebullient brothers had run our batteries too low to carry on. We should have known better than to leave to the Duracells at home.
It’s a testament to the power of the internet, that such an experimental label in such an obscure part of the world, can win such favour with music lovers around the world. And it’s further testament to Dirtytalk that they were able to capture Sex Tag’s appeal in Bristol to such good effect. Then again, we’ve come to expect nothing less from them.
