That comes as no surprise. When listening to Liebings music it's hard not to notice the amount of attention given to the lower frequency spectrum. Especially if you hear him play live through a good PA. No wonder he has his own philosophy when it comes to bass drums.

A bass drum has to fit a certain track. You can't use one bass drum sound for all your tracks. Everything below 200 Hz must fit really well together and the bass drum is the central part. Tuning the attack and the decay of it just a little can change the whole vibe of a track.

The Machinedrum seems to be a perfect match for a bass drum aficionado like Chris.

Once you get to know the Machinedrum you can really get where you want to. Especially with bass drums and sounds that should sound, you know, a little different. To have a quality machine in your hands, that feels good, makes such a difference. Because of this my studio neighbour also got a Machinedrum. He always turns to it when he starts working on a new track. That's the only way he can get the bass drums he want. For some reason he's also a bass drum freak.

Bass is obviously a dear subject to Chris and according to himself something he could talk about for hours. He even has plans of releasing an album containing only low frequency sounds. The only problem as he sees it would be that such an album would require a really good sound system to deliver the full experience. He himself would have no problem enjoying the fruits of his labor. His studio is equipped with a state of the art monitoring system capable of delivering an extremely broad frequency range. This is both a curse and a blessing.

It's easy to get lost in doing sound tweaks that no one will ever notice. Sometimes I have to slap myself when I realize I've spent the last two hours perfecting something that only I, sitting in the sweet spot of my studio, can hear.

The tyranny of freedom is often discussed amongst electronic musicians. The possibilities nowadays are almost endless, but that comes at a price. It's easy to lose the ever important spontaneity.

I've always admired how much you can accomplish by using only bass, guitar and drums, says Chris. My studio is located in a house and on the floor above me a quite famous German rock band, or former rock band really, called Böse Onkels have their studio. They can get their message through so easily and so raw. With electronic music it's very easy to get absorbed by the sound. This is basically one of my biggest tasks, to get more emotion in my music.

Chris' ambition to inject more human elements in his music might seem odd since he is regarded as one of the originators of the techno style known as Schranz. This hard, fast and unpolished genre is well known in Germany, but maybe less so in other parts of the world.

From 1997 to 1999 I hosted a radio show, purely about electronic music. At that time I liked to play this kind of distorted music. It didn't necessarily had to be fast, but very dirty and dark sounding. I tried to explain the sound to the listeners and came up with the word Schranz. It doesn't mean anything, but it was how I defined that sort of music.

The term took off and got a life on its own. Schranz compilations were released. The new generation of clubbers no longer went to techno parties, they went to Schranz parties. But by then Chris had already moved on. The advent of minimal techno had inspired him to lower the BPM and to round off the edges of his music. Something the fans that still saw him as the Schranzmeister reacted to.

I had to publish a statement on my homepage explaining that it would be better if the people complaining on my music just wouldn't attend my gigs.

He found himself trapped in the middle. Those who linked him to his Schranz past thought he was going too soft. Others still assumed he produced really hard stuff. But Chris believed in what he was doing and staying true to oneself will sooner or later pay off.

A funny thing happened when I was playing at a party in Spain. Four guys stood in the front row, pointing their thumbs down and pretending they were falling asleep. They were really stressing me. After half an hour they were gone. I then looked up and saw four girls dancing. I took that as a sign and thought to myself 'No, I'm not on the wrong track. I'm doing the right thing.

Indeed. A normal day in the world of Chris Liebing seems to consist of at least 36 hours. His calendar is crammed with gigs. CLR, his label, recently celebrated a ten year anniversary. Every Monday a new podcast is uploaded to his homepage. The podcasts feature interviews and DJ sets from both established producers and up and coming talents and attract an impressive amount of listeners. 200'000 downloads per podcast is not uncommon. This workload would bring anyone to their knees, but Chris Liebing shows no signs of stopping. The techno community can be grateful for that.