The sky dims and the air grows cold. Conor and I open a midday bottle of wine in our studio as Carlos Aguilar, better known as Concrete Husband, arrives. Sleep still rests in his eyes. Pockets of skin peek through his baggy black clothing. He greets us warmly with hugs and kisses.
Aguilar began studying flute at a young age, sponsored and mentored by school teachers who recognized his talent. He went on to study and perform the flute, garnering accolades and awards along the way, most recently landing him a position opening for Eartheater on her Powders tour. The last few years he has pivoted away from his classical background, first he delved into experimental and improvisational music and more recently immersed himself in techno – finding solace and communion on the dancefloor and behind the DJ booth.
Aguilar wrapped up his debut EP “Pelvic Resonance” with White Owl Records late this summer and the drafts for its cover grace his inbox as we sit down to chat. We crowd around his phone and gaze at the cover, shot by fashion photographer Jean Toir. Aguilar’s face stares back buried in sand, surrounded by leering tentacles. This EP serves as a flag in the ground for his musical work — it combines his experimental background with his love for New York nightlife. We sat down with Carlos to ask him more about “Pelvic Resonance” and how he came to techno in the first place.
CONOR KRANE What is your dream musician blunt rotation? Three people. Any genre.
CONCRETE HUSBAND Dead or alive?
CONOR KRANE Dead or alive.
CONCRETE HUSBAND Definitely without a question Arca would be one of them. I feel like with classical music I’ve met everyone I want to meet.
CONOR KRANE Including the dead? (chuckles)
CONCRETE HUSBAND That’s the thing, I have so much irreverence when it comes to classical music. In music school you deconstruct everyone’s work so the illusion of a savant is completely destroyed. That’s why I’m amazed by contemporary people. Arca would definitely be one. Tim Hecker, and honestly, Nicolas Jaar.
CONOR KRANE Nicolas Jaar is so good.
CONCRETE HUSBAND He makes fab music. These are people who are alive right now making shit that excites me. These are the people I wanna be sitting around chatting with. We are making the thing. We are alive. I grew up within classical music so I’m unimpressed by dead artists. It’s about the people who are here right now. It’s about having conversations with each other because that’s the only way culture moves forward. As a cultural worker it is a responsibility to be looking at who is here and ask how we can support each other.
JACK CAVENAUGH Why did you leave classical music?
CONCRETE HUSBAND I want to make music that connects to people directly. When I’m DJing, I pose a question, right? I pose a sonic question and I gauge — ‘How do people feel? Am I getting more responses or less?’ And once you know how people feel, once you’re connected, then the question is ‘How far will we go?’ That’s what makes this techno thing so exciting; it’s about connecting with each other on the dance floor and from behind the booth.
JACK CAVENAUGH How do you feel like techno has changed since you started going out in New York?
CONCRETE HUSBAND Well the post-pandemic vibes with Output closing and Basement opening and all these new raves popping up has definitely changed the fabric of the city in terms of techno. My friends and I are noticing the way that Basement does lineups and how it has gone from purely international to heavily local. The people that were dancing in the front are now the DJs – finally it's happening. By having all styles of the international techno scene coming to Basement — not just to Basement but the rave scene at large — every single week. We were nurtured, educated really — we're so lucky here. I feel like we are at the very beginning of something new here in New York. We are in this moment of an overturn. And they really care, that’s the other thing. There are a lot of spaces that feel so removed from the people — or the community — who they’re trying to cultivate and I feel like the folks who run Basement are very involved -— are very generous, and are genuinely interested in developing the community. Plus after COVID we were all a little lost and we’re just starting to find our footing again I think. There’s so much creative energy and creative knowledge and everyone is excited to share and create and we’re willing to stick our necks out and experiment and try out things without being so inhibited by other factors and pretenses that we had in our minds and bodies before COVID even. I hate being the bitch to talk about COVID but honestly COVID changed a lot.
JACK CAVENAUGH I feel like a lot of us are kind of rave babies because of COVID.
CONCRETE HUSBAND Oh 100%.
CONOR KRANE Super significant.
JACK CAVENAUGH COVID gave us all this angst but I think it was a really pivotal part of making the New York scene what it is.
I go out, I party, I make music. That’s about all the credential’s I’ve got – not much to talk about the New York scene as a whole. Still, it feels like something new is in the air. COVID opened up a hole within myself and others – the looming possibility of loneliness in our already atomized world became realized. I wasn't in the city that year, I was home in Portland, Oregon, where I knew no one in the techno scene. I ached to connect, to feel the wet sweat of strangers – to bob up and down in a synchronous meld of heads on shoulders. Are techno’s powerful vibrations enough to fill this hole?
CONCRETE HUSBAND It’s so expensive to live here. Like sure, we all party and have fun and the carry can go three, four days. It happens, but it's not every weekend because we do not have that luxury in this city. We just don’t. And maybe that’s a good thing. I have a lot of friends who have been going to Berlin recently and coming back and saying it’s dark. People are just obliterating themselves. You need to show up to the club with intention because if you just show up to get obliterated what are you going to have to say in a few years when that’s all you have to offer. I think a lot of people get lost in the drugs and the fantasy and the illusions of techno. They forget why we’re there: to make friendships, to dance with each other, to fall in love, to fall out of love, to engage in this music. Going to the club is spiritual. It's such a special experience because who in their home has a Funktion-One sound system? No one. To be able to go and experience these frequencies that completely take over your whole body — that’s the point of going out, that’s the motor, the heart of this whole thing.
The more I go out, the more I learn that people go out for all sorts of reasons. Some people go out to fuck, some to drink, some to dance, some to do drugs, some to hang outside and chainsmoke, some to be alone, some to be together. A nightclub can be where we set aside our reservations, our inhibitions, our earthly cares, and sometimes our good-intentions, too. The club is a place where the boundaries between “me” and “us” become porous. Quickly one’s own intentions can seep out and populate amongst the crowd – our demons can be exorcized on the dancefloor, or transferred. And so can our angels.
The last of the daylight reaching into the studio has gone – the cold night is here. We wrap up our conversation and part ways, leaving questions unanswered. I’m left with a sense of urgency, with a recognition of the desire to connect that threads its way through all of our lives. I hope we’re able to do this, inside, and outside, of the club.
Written by Jack Cavenaugh for White Owl Records, 2023.
This interview has been edited for clarity.
Purchase the EP here
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