Before streaming or music television, underground music spread at a glacial pace. In the late 20th century, it took years for some of the most celebrated rock bands, like the Fall or the Clean, to even make a dent in North America. That's what makes it remarkable that two Europeans, drawing on their love of nascent electronic music and their proximity to Detroit and Chicago, sparked a global musical movement in just half a decade.
Even more astonishing is that this revolution grew out of Windsor, ON.
Emigrating from the idyllic English town of Banbury — famous for its currant-filled pastries — for Canada's automotive capital, a nine-year-old Richie Hawtin was shocked by the city's gritty industrial façade. "Windsor was a complete alien world to us," he tells Exclaim! "There were massive cars and wires all overhead. It's like when you see Blade Runner; it's futuristic, but a mess kind of."
Arriving at the dawn of the 1980s, Hawtin had his first encounter with electronic music through his father, a robotics technician at General Motors' Windsor plant. "He was handing down things like a reel-to-reel and a tape player to me as a very young kid," explains Hawtin. "He was playing things in the background like Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk."
Feeling isolated in a foreign land and living in the small Windsor bedroom community of LaSalle, Richie and his younger brother Matthew became more withdrawn. "I remember being extroverted when I was in the UK; then I would become much more introverted," Hawtin recalls. "I think that was what led me into listening and getting close to computers."
Hawtin took solace in Detroit's radio broadcasts, which, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, were among the most groundbreaking in the country. Trailblazers like Duane "In the Mix" Bradley and the Electrifying Mojo on WJLB, along with WGPR-TV's The Scene (renamed The New Dance Show in 1988), ignored genre, nationality and race, blending German krautrock, English synthpop and American disco, funk, soul and early hip-hop. This fusion of sounds would absorbed by three Belleville High School teens — Juan Atkins, Derrick May, and Kevin Saunderson — who laid the foundation for what would become Detroit techno.
Close to a decade younger than the Belleville Three, Richie and Matthew grew up on Detroit's second wave of innovative radio, shaped by the pioneers of first-wave techno. "In Windsor, we had all the Detroit radio stations," remembers the elder Hawtin. "You had Derrick [May] sometimes popping up on 107.5 [WGPR], and when we were in high school, Jeff [Mills] was on five days a week on WJLB."
With a co-sign from their parents, the Hawtin brothers regularly traversed the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel to immerse themselves in the Motor City's music scene. "They're quite liberal," says Matthew. "There was no way they could contact us, but they liked that we were together."
"We did a lot of things as Windsorites that Windsorites didn't do, because if you're in the '70s and then the '80s, Detroit was the big, bad place," adds Hawtin. "We didn't know all the stereotypes. We didn't know that this border was also a racial divide."
Sneaking into Detroit hotspots like the Studio 54 clone Taboo, the goth-industrial Leland City Club, and the Shelter (heavily featured in the Eminem film 8 Mile), the Hawtins got their first real taste of Detroit techno. "There was sort of a group of us, and it was friends hanging out in that scene," says Matthew. "But the Shelter was really the place where Rich got the DJ bug."
Lugging stacks of house and techno records across the border, Hawtin landed a gig opening for veteran DJ Scott "Go-Go" Gordon. While the Belleville Three were taking Detroit techno global with hits like Cybotron's "Cosmic Cars," Rhythim Is Rhythim's "Strings of Life" and Inner City's "Good Life," Hawtin became a fixture at the Shelter and the Music Institute. Despite support from Detroit icons like May and members of Saunderson's KMS label, some remained skeptical of the young Canadian. "There was other people who thought we were like the devil white kids coming in to pilfer the scene," he says. "I never got into any fights, but there were some moments where I was really scared."
While Hawtin was building a name in Detroit, he remained unnoticed in his own country. It took a mutual friend to even put him on the radar of Southwestern Ontario's top DJ, John Acquaviva. "Karl [Kowalski] worked at a record shop, Dr. Disc," says Acquaviva. "We had a branch in Windsor, and I worked at the main shop (in London, ON), and I was buying the records."
Starting as a disco DJ in the late 1970s, Acquaviva was a hot commodity, spinning at chic nightclubs, university campuses and house parties throughout the 1980s. "I became a No. 1 DJ in 1982," he clarifies. Before a trip to techno's capital, Acquaviva called Kowalski for an update. "I was like, 'Hey, what's up in Detroit?'" he says before giving his best impression of Karl: "'Yeah, there's this guy Richie Rich playing at the Shelter.'"
Like Hawtin, Acquaviva moved to Canada as a child. "I was born in Italy. We immigrated to Port Arthur in the '60s, and boy, we almost left," he laughs. "I think that's when we were almost thinking there might be an ice age."
Just as Hawtin's father introduced him to electronic music, Acquaviva's passion for dance music began with Giorgio Moroder, especially his work with Donna Summer. "Instead of buying candy or whatever, I'd buy a 45 I would hear on the radio," he says. "London was pretty good for radio."
After hitting it off with Hawtin and hearing he was interested in transitioning from club DJ to electronic musician, Acquaviva invited him to his studio — his parents' basement in London. "It was right in the laundry room," he says. "There's my studio and then the cellar with our tomato sauce and my dad's wine."
After recording mixes for Hawtin and rising Detroit techno producers like Kenny Larkin and Jeff Mills, launching a label seemed like the natural next step for Acquaviva. "I'm kind of the same age as Kevin and Juan and Derek, but at the end of the day, they had done it first," he clarifies. "So, they were an inspiration to the next wave."
Released on May 1, 1990, Hawtin and Acquaviva teamed up under the name States of Mind for the first official release on their new label, Plus 8. This 33-minute 12-inch vinyl includes five versions of their debut single, "Elements of Tone," featuring a Roland TR-909 hi-hat beat and the titular rhythmic recording tones from an Akai S900 sampler. This skeletal recording was amplified by a thundering Roland TB-303 bassline, a defining element of the label's early sound.
Manufacturing at Detroit's Archer Record Pressing plant, the early roster of Plus 8 featured collaborations with the Detroit-based artist Daniel Bell (Cybersonik) and New York's Edmundo Perez and Joey Beltram (Final Exposure), though it wasn't yet recognized universally as a Canadian label. It was only the controversy the label drew by stamping "Two White Kids from Canada" and "The Future Sound of Detroit" on early records that gave buyers insight into Plus 8's home base. "We were naïve kids," says Hawtin. "We didn't get all the political, social problems that Detroit had been through."
After international success with releases from Rotterdam's Speedy J, New York's Vapourspace and Lowell's the Kooky Scientist, Hawtin created Plus 8's first flagship artist in 1993. His full-length as F.U.S.E., Dimension Intrusion, followed a string of 12-inch releases and was co-released with Warp Records. As the fourth record in the British label's Artificial Intelligence series — alongside works from Polygon Window (an alter-ego of Aphex Twin), Black Dog Productions, Autechre, and Speedy J — Dimension Intrusion was an instant success for both Hawtin and Plus 8. While the debut F.U.S.E. record included earlier singles like the booming "F.U." and the club-ready "Substance Abuse," new tracks like the aptly titled "Nitedrive" and "Into the Space" marked Hawtin's shift from classic Detroit techno to a more innovative sound.
Just four months later, Hawtin surpassed the popularity of his own F.U.S.E. project, introducing Plastikman — one of electronic music's first global icons. With its cover featuring a rubbery, alien-like figure — designed by Ron Cameron for Acme Skateboards in 1991 — and printed on a blotter acid-style sheet, Sheet One is now widely considered one of the greatest electronic albums of all time. Plastikman's follow-up, 1994's Musik, earned a perfect score from The Guardian and, thanks to distribution via Mute's Novamute subsidiary, charted across Europe.
As Plastikman went supernova, Hawtin and Acquaviva looked to one of Detroit's most creative minds to keep the Plus 8 machine running. "They were looking for someone that could help them organize and do a lot of operational work with some creativity because they were extremely busy," recalls Clark Warner. A Detroit native, Warner was known as a local renaissance man, DJing clubs, collaborating with clothing brand Made in Detroit, managing alt-dance acts Charm Farm and Final Cut, and working with techno luminaries Kenny Larkin and Inner City. "When they were starting to get the label to a point where they're like, 'We need some external partners organizing our press contacts,' that's kind of what I brought to the table because I was hungry to do that," recalls Warner.
While Plus 8 originally cut its teeth with Detroit and international artists, the label fostered Canada's growing electronic scene, releasing records by Burlington's Legion of Green Men, Kitchener's Mike Shannon and Toronto's Psyance. "Toronto had a pretty vibrant scene," says Matthew Hawtin. "'Cause they had the bigger clubs. They had the bigger parties going on."
By 1997, electronic music was finally taking off in North America, driven by acts like the Chemical Brothers, the Prodigy and Acquaviva's former roommate, Moby. But just as Plus 8 was given the cultural infrastructure to break through this side of the Atlantic, Hawtin and Acquaviva decided to part ways. "I remember Matthew and I driving up to London and sitting in John's new house and someone saying, 'Is anybody having fun?'" recalls Hawtin. "And most everybody saying, 'No.'"
After the split, Acquaviva thrived as a globally respected DJ and innovative business mind, leading Plus 8 sublabel Definitive Recordings (while putting our records by Germany's Ian Pooley and Toledo's Omega Man) and co-developing the revolutionary DJ tool Final Scratch with N2IT and Hawtin.
At the rise of MP3s, Acquaviva also helped establish electronic music's premier streaming hub. "Napster's not fair to artists," he remembers thinking. "Well, why don't we release something that DJs will buy? So, I came together with another group, and we launched Beatport." Hawtin, meanwhile, would create M_nus Records, putting out future classics by Detroit's False (a.k.a. Matthew Dear), Germany's Thomas Brinkmann as well as music under his own name and his Plastikman moniker.
While early Plastikman recordings were made at his parents' house in Lasalle, from a studio dubbed UTK ("Under the Kitchen"), Hawtin would purchase a former firehouse in Windsor's Walkerville neighbourhood, close to the historic Hiram Walker distillery. Named the Building, Richie recorded some of the label's most daring and influential work there, including what would become his emblematic effort, 1998's Consumed. Under the Plastikman moniker, Hawtin stripped down his crackling beats to create an ambient masterpiece that still retained the essence of Detroit techno, earning near-perfect reviews from critics outside the electronic music world, including SPIN and a budding Pitchfork.
Just as M_nus gained worldwide acclaim and Hawtin was planning a move to Berlin, a cottage industry began to rise up around the scene he helped build. "In my house on 530 Walker Road, I built a small little studio on the front with gear that I wasn't using," he says. "I invited up-and-coming artists to come through there and just get their hands on some equipment."
By the turn of the millennium, Windsor had become a vibrant hub for electronic music, with homegrown talent like Ian Hind, Kero and Liam Lux playing sets at iconic venues across the city. These included techno clubs like the Underground, the Amsterdam and Platinum, as well as punk venue Walker 917, rock club the Coach and Horses and Windsor's legendary LGBTQ+ bar, the Happy Tap.
"We had an event that Matthew [Hawtin] and Clark Warner were doing called Neroli, that was down at a coffee shop," says Richie. "Later, I invested in a small bar called 13 Below where we were doing house and techno nights." Makeshift parties and dance nights were emerging across the city, echoing London's acid rave scene from a decade earlier. "We did an incredible warehouse party on Halloween 1995," adds Hawtin. Raver-focused shops like Rotate Records and Spank Nite Club Gear sprang up, while Windsor's visual and performing arts scene intertwined with the city's thriving techno scene.
"Richie was very encouraging to a lot of the folks," recalls Christopher McNamara, who co-founded Thinkbox — a six-person audio/visual collective uniting Detroit musicians and Windsor artists. "The Detroit techno guys were heading to Europe since their own city was less receptive," he says, noting how Hawtin's influence helped Windsor quickly pick up on Detroit's lead. "Basically, somebody had left the porch lights on, and he kind of came in and began to build a scene."
By the mid-2000s, Windsor's top electronic artists also began moving on. Thinkbox's Christopher Bissonnette signed with Chicago's Kranky Records to focus on modern composition, while rising stars Heidi and Marc Houle found greater success in Europe. Hawtin settled in Berlin, releasing landmark albums from Detroit's Magda and Troy Pierce.
However, a quarter-century after Plus 8 shut down, its influence still echoes across Canada's diverse music scene, with artists like Caribou and Grimes openly expressing their admiration.
"My introduction to Plus 8 was because there was a scene of techno music happening in Hamilton at that time," says Jeremy Greenspan of Junior Boys. "I knew that it was special — that there was this Canadian dimension to this international phenomenon." Like in many Canadian cities, Plus 8 left its mark on Greenspan's hometown, supporting the local scene by distributing Steel City Records and releasing music from artists like Ollie and Ngin-O. This inspired Greenspan to create a sound of his own that pushed boundaries and carved its own path. "All my friends who were into indie rock or punk, that seems so completely old-timey to me," he adds.
With the recent success of the Sheet One and Musik's 30th anniversary editions, it's clear that Plus 8 Records remains a pivotal chapter in the history of electronic music — not just in Windsor or Canada, but globally.
"I'm incredibly proud and amazed at what we accomplished," says Hawtin.
"I built Plus 8, but damn if Rich Hawtin ain't more Plus 8 than me," laughs Acquaviva. "Plus 8 always had a vision."
"That combination was just dynamic," Hawtin beams. "It was beautiful and amazing."
