Exit Interview: Raphaël Valensi aka Laura Ingalls

Raphaël Valensi - also known as Laura Ingalls - has been a longtime driving force in Shanghai’s music community. As he prepares to leave the city, I sat down with him to collect his thoughts on his experiences and the goings-on around him.



Part One:

Ivan: Take me through when you got here. What was local music like when you got here? How did you first get involved?

Raph: I got here about 8 years ago now. I was first actually brought over to play at a really posh club on the Bund, which was kind of a weird fit for me, ‘cuz I didn’t really DJ back then. Clem [Clément Pony, of Jongno Edits and Acid Pony Club] was working for this event company called Riviera, and so he was doing events at like, Bar Rouge and Lounge 18, and places like that. It was a weird introduction to the city because we really don’t come from a posh background, and definitely not from a posh club scene background, but for some reason we got – not sucked in, but brought over to do that, possibly because we were French.

So the funny thing is that I was brought here to be a DJ on the Bund, but the first club I actually played at and went to was Logo and then Shelter – even before I started playing for the club that I was hired by. Back then, there were very few places. People were in between Logo and Shelter, Shelter and Logo, Logo and Shelter, Yuyintang of course…but that’s all there was. I feel like back then you couldn’t really call it a scene. It was a micro-scene, it was so tiny.

I: That’s true. Especially at old Logo, you might have a few bands, and then a bunch of DJs playing, and then some guys freestyling…



R: You had jam nights on a Sunday, where people would just get really drunk and play horrible Bob Marley covers, and then you’d have a DJ playing house music until 6am, and that was the Sunday night here. It was actually pretty refreshing, coming from Paris where everything is…back then there were also very few clubs that were open in Paris, and it was hard to get a gig. We came here and we’re able to book a gig literally overnight and play the next day.

We all remember that Maxime [Lenik, former manager of Logo] was great at booking people that didn’t fit together at all, so Logo was just this random place. Shelter was still experimenting with their bookings, and so they let us in. I think it took us, after that night, about three or four years before we played at Shelter. Back then they’d just opened, it was not the institution it is now. So yeah, that’s kind of how it was here. Then Dada opened, and from there on it dominoed into this scene we know now.

I: You mentioned that you and Clem came over to play Bund parties. How did you guys figure your way and get involved in the more underground side of things?



R: Because that’s where we come from. We were already doing underground techno and house parties in Paris, and that’s what we were drawn to. Clem was here before me, about a year before, and he had started playing at Mao and Logo. He hadn’t played at Shelter yet, but he was already connected to that scene. When I came over, because it was the two of us, and I guess also because my English is slightly better, I got to meet some of the people that he hadn’t met yet. For us it was natural. We went where we were used to going in Paris, which is a place where the toilet smells bad.

I: In Shanghai, there aren’t a million options. It’s always felt kind of open. Anyone new who’s interested is eagerly included.

R: I heard from a lot of people who moved here that they couldn’t get gigs in certain places, but I never really had that problem. I guess because we’ve been here for so long, and we knew all the players, if you can call them that…but it was never really hard for us to get a gig. We got introduced to Michael [Olsen, of Dada], we got introduced to Gaz [Williams, of The Shelter], we got introduced to Maxime back then. These were the options that were open, and we just played around and that was it. I guess for people who come now, there’s a bit more competition, but I still feel that it’s really, really open. There’s people that I know from before they even became DJs three years ago who are now playing everywhere. That’s not something you’d be able to do unless you’re extremely well connected anywhere else in the world.

Photo by Andrew Rochfort

I: It’s been about 8 years, as you said. Take me through the evolution of how things have come while you’ve been watching and participating.



R: There’s a few sides to that. First and foremost, when we came here, we were primarily DJs. What evolved for us is to find our mark as being producers as well, which was something we were doing before we came here, then put on the side to build our DJ reputation. By becoming more involved in production, whether it’s our own tracks or producing for other people or other bands, it really allowed us to make this fun party atmosphere that we were developing into something more professional. It’s hard for me to talk about the evolution of the scene without talking about my own evolution, in and out of the scene.



We were primarily DJs, and then we got trusted by a few bands, including yours, to produce. That gave us an insight into what I would call “teacher rock” back then in Shanghai. You had all these amazing bands that were playing everywhere who were primarily teachers. Friend Or Foe’s first album era [Note: Friend Or Foe’s first album, My Claw Is Never Limp, was released in 2011]. From then, we really felt this cross-pollination between us and this teacher-rock scene. I’m gonna keep calling it that and make it a thing. That opened us up to new friends, and all of the sudden we were DJs, but we were also producers, we had a studio. That was the first evolution for us, where we came out of the electronic thing to become more close to the rock scene. That opened us up to more gigs and collaboration, including what became Death to Ponies.



After that, the next big change for us was when we took all of that expertise and turned it into a proper job working as sound engineers for venues and events. Yes, we were still on the scene, yes were still playing, but kind of had this in-between where our main focus was not on making money out of DJ gigs or rock production, but out of being sound engineers for events. Our priorities started shifting. We were doing that to the point where we are now, where I can barely call myself a DJ anymore. I DJ once a month, maybe. I did the whole “Laura Ingalls is dead” thing, which of course is funny to everyone, but for me it was a point at which I was like “This is not my job anymore.” This is just a hobby. I guess most people didn’t really see that as a transformation, but for me it was so drastic. From DJing 5 times a week to 5 times a year, it was a big change for what I was doing. That was another evolution, where I basically took a day job and just was like “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

I: What was your motivation for making that change?



R: Aging? I’m not 25 years old. There was really a time – there was a shift in the music of the clubs here – where I was feeling really old. I felt that I was playing music that was not interesting to anyone anymore. Being 30-something and playing for a bunch of 20-somethings and feeling this divide, like “I don’t understand what you guys want, and you guys don’t understand what I’m playing, so what the fuck am I doing here?” I did not want to be the 45-year-old DJ at the club who’s trying hard as fuck to stay relevant. It’s not me. I got a girlfriend, I wanna work, I want to do other things, I want to be able to go to sleep at night. When you DJ, you abuse yourself, and you age. I’ve a lot of respect for club owners who are at the club 5 to 6 to 7 nights a week and manage to not completely abuse their health like I used to.

I: We’re talking 5, 6 in the morning, or later.



R: Exactly, yeah. And that’s not something I was willing to do anymore. I felt a point where I was like – there’s been an evolution, I’ve missed an episode, or a whole season, and now I’m like, “what the fuck is this?” I would go out and listen to the younger DJs and be like, “I feel old. This is not me, I don’t understand this music.” I stopped playing with Acid Pony Club, I was over it. Sam sort of dragged me back in – Mau Mau – what he offered was for me to help with the label side, helping with producers, which is more interesting to me. That’s how Co:Motion came to be, and for me, it was the idea of still having a foot in the scene, but not having to be at every party or promote as heavily. Just being able to be in and out and taking a back-office role.



Photo by Stephen Kearney

I: I’d like to get your input and your thoughts on what’s been happening around you as well. No one journeys in a vacuum; it’s all within a greater context.



R: Of course. I would separate this into three eras. In the first era, where I was growing up with DJs, there was not much competition. There were maybe 10 of us who were DJing around town. It was a big family. Of course, we had people we were friends with more than with others. It was this family of people who knew each other, who’d go to each other’s parties and get drunk with each other, and so we enjoyed the fact that it was literally 10 or 15 of us. Maybe we weren’t working together, but we were playing at each other’s parties and clubs. It was small and enjoyable in that way.



Then, because more clubs opened, there was a bit more competition. People started flying into Shanghai that we didn’t know, who were doing different things. It started splitting up into different crews, people who were playing different areas in the city. That’s kind of when I started losing touch with what was around me. I’ve always tried to go out and listen go what’s new, but when there’s 10 to 15 new DJs a month, you just lose touch. That’s what happened with me and the DJ scene. I came from the background of knowing everyone, to now where I’m at a party and these people are in the DJ booth, and I’m like “Who are you?” I don’t know anyone. Some of them know me, and they’re like “I opened for you at wherever,” and I’m like “I guess? I’m glad you remember.”



So that’s how the DJ thing evolved. With the teacher rock scene, it started really organically for us because I was kind of drunk and bumped into Adam [Crossley, of Friend Or Foe] at one of his shows, and I was kind of cocky, like “Yea, I’m a sound engineer, I can produce the shit out of you guys!” And I guess he was as drunk as I am, cuz he totally trusted me. And so we started producing everyone and their fucking mothers. It was incredible. I ended up producing XXYY, Girls Like Mystery, we did all sorts of random things. And it was literally just me and Clem hanging out at YYT walking up to you, walking up to Adam, to all these guys, and being like “Yo! I can produce your album!”

Photo by Rachel Gouk

I: That’s how Death to Ponies got made. I remember you came up to us after a show and were like “Let’s make a band together. What do you guys think?”

R: Yeah, because I had a feeling that something could happen there. And it was kind of exciting, cuz you had all these bands that were getting together. I know you don’t really like them, but I was really excited about Pairs when I first saw them, when they were playing on the floor at Yuyintang.

I: You can’t deny that they were passionate, and that they took an active role in making things happen.

R: [Xiao Zhong of Pairs] was just a crazy kid who was trying to make shit happen. Nichols [of Rainbow Danger Club and Death to Giants] was around, everybody had their bands and they were all friends. You’d go to Yuyintang and you’d see three bands, out of which you knew practically everybody in the lineup. We were coming out of this DJ world, where we were removed from what was happening, and got adopted by the teacher-rock scene.

I: You’re referring strictly to bands that are all or mostly made of foreigners.

R: Yeah, and that sort of became a problem for me after a while. I realized that it was a situation in which bands were forming and breaking up overnight as half of the band would move away to their next contract. There was no real idea of a scene because there was no time to create one. At that point, we had honed our skills as sound guys, we had more confidence in what we were doing, but the scene, as I saw it, just crumbled into pieces. It died. Literally. To me, it happened overnight. Because you were more into that, you probably saw the way it de-escalated, but basically for me, there were a few key players that left, and the bands that we knew started splitting up.

Now, if you look at the program for Yuyintang or for the very few rock venues in the city, the local kids have taken over. Which is what we wanted! But, because my Chinese is complete crap, I really had a hard time. I tried to work with some of these bands, but it wasn’t flowing the same. Their references weren’t mine. They’re a lot younger, so they were talking to me about bands that I had no idea who the fuck they were.

It sort of crumbled, and we got more involved in corporate environments. It was hard for us to produce an entire album for 2,000 kuai and then say no to a job that would pay us 3,000 kuai a day. We’re like, “this is not really our thing anymore. All of our friends are dead.” So we moved on to become sound engineers – and I’m going to talk about this very briefly – but for sound engineers in Shanghai, there’s six of us. It’s very few people who have that skill set. We found our niche, and now this is what me and Clem do most of the time, and that’s how we make most of our money.

I: And you guys are doing this mostly separately, or together?

R: We do both. It’s funny, because we always had that dynamic, just me and Clem, where there are things we do together, and there are things we do separately. When we were younger, we were living together and DJing a lot together, but there were always nights where we were separate, there was always that dynamic. Now, more than ever, he has his girlfriend and lives in his apartment, and I have mine, and so we’re not together as much as we used to be, but we still collaborate on projects. I’m releasing a track on his label this month. We do a lot of jobs together, and we know that we work well together. We trust each other.

Raph and Clem. Photo by Yanock Col



I: You can see that especially in your solo work. As Ponies, you had a very defined sound, but as soon as you go in your own direction, it’s really easy to see whose music is whose. You go in such different directions. At which point did you guys start becoming composers?

R: That’s how our journey started. That’s how we met. We were at sound school together, learning to be sound engineers, but also because we were both already writing electronic music. We already had that passion, messing around with samplers and software and drums machines. We didn’t become that in Shanghai. We were already that, and then we came here and put that on the side for a while, and then because it’s our main passion – our main focus in life is to create music, not to play it – after a year of partying, after a year of being young and crazy in Shanghai, we sat down and were like “We need to get back to this. This is important to us, so we need to whip out the drum machines and start making beats again.”

Shanghai gave us the opportunity to be in a place where we could survive not having a day job. We had more time to make music. We could pay for a studio space, so we could have a studio, we could buy gear. Those are things which on the cheap would not be possible in Europe. I wouldn’t say we became beatmakers and producers here, but we definitely developed into the beatmakers and producers that we are today.



I: The city was able to support you so that you could have enough time to invest in personal work.



R: That was really why I stayed here so long. It allowed me to work and live off music exclusively, which is a luxury when you look at it from a western perspective. To live in Paris as a DJ and a producer, either you’re well-off to start with or you’re incredibly successful. Living arrangements are very different, it’s harder to get a studio, and there’s so many things that will get in the way. At some point, you’ll have to either give up or make it a hobby. Whereas here, we were able to exist that way, which is crazy and exciting. To this day, I’m very grateful that I was able to have this experience.



Part Two