Nicolas Atcheson: Club music is political, and we shouldn’t forget it

by Kristina Kratochvílová

The first Holešovice OKNO by Alexmonhart was opened with a set by sound designer, DJ, and member of Prague’s club scene Nicolas Atcheson, performing as Atch22 from the label Amphibian Records. As the final preparations were underway, sunlight streamed through the showroom windows, with reflections of the mix dancing across the walls—hinting at bright beginnings. Not only for Alexmonhart’s new series, but also for Ankali, the club where Nicolas has long been active and which, after months of uncertainty and the threat of closure, has found at least a temporary revival.

We meet just after Ankali’s weekend-long eighth birthday celebration and Saturday’s performance by FKA Twigs, who praised the inspiration she drew from Prague’s underground scene—briefly putting local clubs in the spotlight of international media. But did that spotlight benefit the local scene, or FKA herself? Can running your own label in the Czech Republic provide a living? What’s the difference between Czech and Western DJ fees? Are daytime raves the future? And can political engagement and art ever truly be separated?

In promo interviews for her new album, FKA Twigs praised Prague’s underground scene and its influence on her work. But describing a scene after just a few nights can feel illusory. How would you describe Prague’s underground scene, where you’ve been active for about six years?

It’s very different than it was six years ago. There are far more producers now, people creating amazing music, but I think most people in the West still see us as “the East.” Even when the things created here are just as interesting, they don’t get the same spotlight.

When FKA mentioned Prague, her experience at Fuchs and the inspiration she drew here, it also had a problematic side. Essentially, she’s using the vibe or her idea of the space, but doesn’t take the next step to truly connect with the scene—like reaching out to local producers or dancers. On her new album Eusexua, for instance, there isn’t anyone from our region involved. In some ways, it feels quite superficial, and I know I’m not the only one who thinks that. A lot of Prague-based producers have spoken about it publicly.

Overall, I believe that the people producing here are far ahead of what cultural journalism reflects—and I don’t just mean globally, but even within the Czech Republic.

Have you personally experienced how difficult it is to break into cultural media? Have you tried through your own activities?

Of course. Unfortunately, both Czech and international music media are mostly focused on other genres, and club music doesn’t interest them much. But when we did a send-out of one of our records that could have fit into those small gaps of interest, we faced the problem that unless you pay a big company a huge sum to distribute your press materials, the music doesn’t get anywhere.

I’m talking here mainly about international outlets. In the Czech Republic, we did manage to find some support within the limits of what’s possible.

Why do you think clubs and electronic music don’t get much attention from the media? The news about the possible closure of Ankali, where you work, and the emergency shop to support the club, did appear in several outlets.

Sure, but that was more reactive. When people realized they might lose such an important club on the Prague scene, they stepped in to help prevent that, which is obviously amazing. But in the long run, the club struggles with a sharp drop in attendance—and that’s the alpha and omega of whether it can survive.

I think for many music journalists, club culture doesn’t seem as “artistic,” even though I believe the opposite. For many, it doesn’t look like sophisticated culture—it’s “just” nightlife.

Ankali is written about abroad, and people talk about it internationally, but the hierarchy between West and East is very noticeable.

Exactly. When you deal directly with the international scene, that East–West hierarchy is obvious. Someone from Eastern Europe might have a more interesting and overall better space and position, but the reality is you can’t shake off the “Eastern” label in the eyes of Westerners. For example, a DJ starting out in the Netherlands has a much easier time breaking abroad, because they immediately fall into the orbit of clubs that are globally known and benefit from completely different formats of state support.

A friend of mine in Denmark, for example, was able to spend an entire year producing music at home because he received state funding. So there are really two problems keeping us from catching up to the global scene: a lack of cultural support here, and the fact that people on the other side of Europe simply don’t feel the need to care about what’s happening here.

What could be the way forward? Creating programs under state institutions to showcase Czech producers internationally?

In some ways, that already exists. For example, the SHAPE+ initiative for innovative European music and audiovisual art worked that way. But I think the main thing should be to make sure such projects are stable and long-term.

And also to realize that you don’t need to pay €1,500 to bring someone from the West—you can build a lineup with artists not only from the Czech Republic but also from nearby countries. There are so many great artists from places like Poland or Hungary. In the deconstructed club scene, for example, julek ploski, who once released on the excellent Czech label Gin&Platonic, or ewa sad. And in faster techno, someone like slym from Hungary, founder of the Techlab label, around which there are plenty of other excellent producers.

You work at Ankali. You started as a night manager and now you’re responsible for booking. Is focusing on “Eastern” talent something you try to put into practice there?

It’s not really my personal credit, but right now we’re in talks with a DJ collective from Vienna called sugar slip, which focuses on bass music. Vienna isn’t Eastern Europe, but it’s still an “off the radar” scene. The project is also grant-funded on their side, which says a lot.

In the past, for one of Amphibian’s events, we booked Syrphin from Belarus. But it’s hard to set an example, say, when putting together a UK music lineup, since so many of those artists are based in London. The listener’s gaze naturally points that way, and of course we fall victim to that too.

For me, it’s important to give space to lesser-known artists and producers. At the same time, you have to keep balance. We need to fill the club with people, and that leads us to another issue: hype today is largely manufactured on social media. We’ve learned to consume mostly ten-second clips, which has flipped the way we experience DJ sets. I remember when, seven years ago, someone released a mix—we’d listen to it in full and share it with each other. That happens much less today. I think people have stopped looking for new things. And it’s not just the younger generation—overall, there are fewer people doing that deep digging, spending hours trying to discover new music.

Do audiences at Ankali—or at your label’s events—react more to big names on the lineup, or are they drawn to the expected atmosphere?

Lately, what draws people most are collectives or groups that promise a certain vibe. In our club, most of the monthly program consists of rentals, because collectives work better than individual names. Bigger, well-produced parties like our weekenders also work really well—they attract people who might otherwise go out only once every two months.

And materially speaking, it’s tied to the worsening socio-economic situation in the Czech Republic. People simply have less to spend on culture. If Prague were a six-million city, it would be different. But in a smaller market, it’s harder. And besides, this music is very specific—it’s not for everyone.

How did the Ankali emergency store turn out?

We managed to save the club temporarily. We nearly reached the fundraising goal, and I think it gave us the boost we needed to get back on our feet. In the past two months, attendance has improved, and we hope the trend continues.

For the coming season, we’ve planned a very diverse and balanced program. I hear from people that they’d love to attend events that aren’t just techno, which is great—because we do those too. At the start of each month, we publish the program, so it’s nice when people look up the artists and listen to their music on Soundcloud. They might discover they enjoy something unexpected.

It’s impossible to know every artist’s name—even I don’t know them all, of course. That’s why it’s great to stay open and give a chance to someone new.

Are daytime raves the future?

I think so. They didn’t really catch on in Prague before, but lately the interest has been growing. I think it’s also because many people who care about club music are now reaching the age where they’re starting families. A daytime party is easier for them to attend.

How did you actually become an active part of this scene?

When I was sixteen, I started coming to Prague to visit my friend Martin Habrovanský (DJ name Aplus Plusplus), and we went to our first parties together—like Cukr, Polygon, Nite Vibes, Harmony, and so on.

Back in Zlín, where I’m from, Martin and I started DJing together as Teletext. Later, when I began studying at FAMU, we became friends with Honza Sedláček and Adam Kraus from Persona, who occasionally invited us to play with them. Eventually, when Inger Illel joined our crew, Amphibian was born.

We started hosting our own events and building our own community. From that, we began getting booked in local clubs like Ankali or Fuchs.

Can running a label in the Czech Republic provide a living?

No. A label here is almost always a passion project, something we all subsidize from our own pockets. It’s not profitable at all. The only real income can come from throwing events.

If you want to release records or physical formats, you have to cover design, distribution, everything. Bandcamp generates some money, but it’s nowhere near profitable. Our label is slowly reaching a point where it can sustain itself, but it could never sustain us.

Let’s talk money. How much does it cost to book a Czech DJ, and how does that compare to Western artists?

The standard fee for a Czech DJ is around 4,000 CZK. It depends on the type of event—commercial ones might add a few thousand more. For very small foreign artists, motivated simply by wanting to play here, the minimum is about €250. On top of that, you cover accommodation, food, travel. So €250 is the baseline, but it easily climbs into the thousands.

So the gap between local and foreign artists’ fees is pretty big.

Definitely. And foreign artists also have to travel here, so the fee also compensates for their time spent on the road.

With Amphibian, you released the compilation Transmission for Palestine, which earned you a Vinyla nomination. This year you released Transmission for Lebanon. How important is political engagement in the art you make?

For me, it’s automatic. This entire sphere of music has been political from the beginning, and I don’t think it can be apoliticized. The exception is, of course, music produced under major labels as a conveyor-belt product—but that’s not what we’re talking about.

House music was born out of underground queer culture among Black communities in New York. Techno came from marginalized groups in Detroit. It would be absurd to forget that.

I believe that if contemporary artists take a stand against injustice, together they can make an impact. For example, the Sonar festival was recently bought by the massive investment company KKR, which is tied to major development projects in Israel and co-finances genocide. Dozens of artists spoke out and said they wouldn’t perform there—and it shook the festival hard.

In November, Amphibian Records is planning an event at Archa+ in a unique quadraphonic sound format. What makes it special?

Most music we hear is in stereo—two channels, left and right, whether in headphones or clubs. The idea of going quadraphonic came from Láďa Štěrba, our “sound guru” at Amphibian who also works at Archa. He mentioned he’d been doing quadraphonic live sets with badfocus, and we all loved the idea of bringing that format to Amphibian.

Quadraphonic sound means four discrete channels, so the music surrounds the audience from all sides—it embraces them. Honestly, until the last moment we weren’t sure it would work in such a large space. But it turned out beautifully, and lots of people came specifically because they were curious about the format. It was really special, and we’re excited for the next edition on November 14.

Finally, Alexmonhart has a fragrance collection for different personality types—The Raver, The Thinker, The Ritualist, The Minimalist, The Dreamer, and The Avantgardist. Which one are you, though I think I might already know the answer?

For almost a year now, I’ve been using The Raver and The Avantgardist together. That combination just fits me perfectly, and I think it really works.