It's tough to say exactly what makes a good label owner. Depending on the type of operation, there are various factors at play. But one thing is certain: there's a lot more to it than just music. Successful labels will usually have a well-defined vision for their project. This affects everything, whether it's artwork, release formats, promotion, or something as simple as deciding how many copies of a record to press. The best label owners will carefully consider every aspect, with the aim of releasing high quality records that stand the test of time.
As founder of Northern Electronics, Abdulla Rashim has found his calling. He's been a well-regarded solo act since 2011, dishing out mellow, highly textured techno from his Stockholm base. His deep and atmospheric sound is indebted to established Italian artists Donato Dozzy and Giorgio Gigli. There's little doubt that Northern Electronics will be Rashim's most unique and lasting legacy. He's assembled a crew of fellow Stockholm residents—Varg, Korridor, Acronym, SARS—who are behind some of the best and most popular deep techno of recent years.
The Northern Electronics aesthetic is subtle and refined. An equal focus on experimental and traditional techno sets the label apart. This variety gives Northern Electronics an appeal that reaches beyond the techno purists who flocked to Rashim's early work. DJs can take their pick from the relatively upbeat, club-ready tracks of Korridor and Acronym, while Varg and Rashim supply the label's most leftfield fare. The uniting factor is a sense of emotion. It shines through the label's catalogue, whether it's the subaquatic tension of Acronym's River Red Gum, the hazy despair of Varg and SARS's New Wave album as Född Död (Studie I Närhet, Längtan Och Besvikelse), or Korridor's blissful, retro-tinged techno on Taotast.

"It's really hard to translate it into words," Rashim says. "It's all about an emotion or an idea. I can hear it instantly. We all can."

I'm speaking to him on a warm Saturday evening in Berlin. Throughout our three-hour conversation, Rashim speaks slowly and softly, pausing occasionally to collect his thoughts. Tall, slim and blonde, he has a boyish face that doesn't seem to match the moody and often melancholic sound of his music. You'd be forgiven for considering Rashim shy, but give him time and he'll soon be cracking jokes and talking about rappers like Drake. He also gives off the aura of someone who thinks very deeply about his craft.
Northern Electronics is Rashim's second label. It follows Abdulla Rashim Records, which released six deep techno 12-inches between 2011 and 2013. An outlet for his earliest productions, it launched at a time when there was plenty of interest in his type of music. Labels like Prologue, Stroboscopic Artefacts and Mike Parker's Geophone were going from strength to strength, turning out complex, contemplative tracks of various moods and energies. 

Abdulla Rashim Records was a successful project, but its founder had greater ambitions. "From the beginning I had the idea that I wanted to build something out of Stockholm," Rashim says. "I wanted to create a platform and a group that could stand by itself and not have to rely on other people. We would only rely on ourselves.

"I always wanted to start a label," he continues. "But I never really understood how I could shape it, and how I would set up everything. So I took a few years to think about it, and did Abdulla Rashim Records in the meantime."

The night before we met, Rashim played a Northern Electronics showcase at Berlin Atonal, a popular festival dedicated to avant-garde sounds. Along with Varg, Acronym and Puce Mary (an act connected to the Copenhagen record store and label Posh Isolation), Rashim had been given free rein over a five-hour portion of the night, during which they'd delivered deep, dense and mostly beatless live sets. There was a sense of defiance about their approach. The group's refusal to offer any dance music reflects how Northern Electronics operates: they lure people in with techno, then hit them with something more challenging.
"Even though it's not dance music it evokes the same kind of emotions," Rashim says about their sets that night. "I don't care if it has straight drums or no drums. It's about the vibe, not how fast it's going or if people can dance to it."
Northern Electronics launched in 2013 with Varg's Misantropen, an acid-tinged album that bundled deep techno with ambient sketches. Acronym's DJ-friendly River Red Gum single followed, after which the label dropped its first beatless release: Abdulla Rashim and Varg's maiden collaboration as Ulwhednar, a five-part drone piece titled Withatten 1892. The cassette-only release preceded Ulwhednar's first full-length, an untitled percussive techno LP. It also came with a batch of ambient and drone sketches, reinforcing Rashim's dedication to both sides of this coin.

The label has steadily widened its scope in the two years since. While a little-known sublabel called Blodörn released drone cassettes, Northern Electronics has put out New Wave (Född Död, SARS), ambient (D.Å.R.F.D.H.S.) and industrial (Lundin Oil) along with techno records from Varg, Acronym, Rashim and Dorisburg, an artist more commonly known for his house tracks. A particular feeling—perhaps melancholia—connects much of it. This emotional content is at odds with one of techno's most notable recent trends: the move towards harder, industrial-style sounds. The music on Northern Electronics is also often dark but rarely harsh or confrontational, which sets it apart from the masculine UK aesthetic that's been enjoying a revival. This may explain Northern Electronics' increasing popularity—many people listen to it to hear something that's not immediately available in harder strands of dance music.
It's that same reason many people listen to deep techno, including Rashim himself. "I guess it's liberating in a way," he says. "Some music can give you the feeling, 'It's all going to be OK,' even though it's melancholic. I'm not sure why it's so special. In some way it's completely different to what we're used to hearing. It has a greater impact and meaning for me than a lot of other stuff. It feels like it's not a part of regular life."
Every artist on Northern Electronics has a deep connection to the label. Not least Varg, who's been responsible for some of the label's most far-reaching work. His birth name is Jonas Rönnberg, and his moniker means "wolf" in Swedish. Varg is often mistaken for a reference to Varg Vikernes, a racist Norwegian black metal artist known for burning down churches and murdering one of his fellow band members. "It has absolutely nothing to do with Vikernes," he tells me over email. "I can't really understand why people think that. It's just a regular name for a person or pet, just like Christian, Yves or Celiné.
Rönnberg is the Northern Electronics' most outspoken character. He arrives 90 minutes into my conversation with Rashim, and the dynamic of the group (which now includes Acronym and designer Jonas Bard) immediately changes. Rönnberg talks quickly and loudly, is fond of telling stories and is prone to going off on tangents. "I think we gave Atonal one hell of a show," Rönnberg grins, still buzzing from the night before.
Rönnberg also played a separate showcase with a live band (which included Frederikke Hoffmeier of Puce Mary, Loke Rahbek of Damien Dubrovnik, Ossian Ohlsson of Vit Fana and film composer Erik Enocksson) on the Atonal main stage two nights earlier. His performance received a mix response from people he'd spoken to afterwards, and he seemed both confused and pleased by the reactions. "A lot of classic techno guys didn't get the show that I played on Thursday," Rönnberg says. "Afterwards, they kept coming up to me like, 'I didn't really understand the show—it doesn't sound like your records!' But after the label showcase, some of them came and said, 'Now we understand! We've connected the dots.'"

According to Rönnberg, events like the Atonal showcase are an important piece of the puzzle. "They start to see the whole picture and put everything together," he says about the label's followers. "It's fun to paint the picture for these techno heads that came to Northern Electronics from Abdulla Rashim's past. We can force-feed them the other stuff. That's the fun part of it."
Invitations to play events like Atonal are a sign of Northern Electronics' success, and it's well deserved. The sheer amount of thought, time and energy that goes into each release dwarfs many other electronic music labels, and the difference shows. Perhaps integral to it all, though, is that the label's core group are close friends who understand each other well. "It feels like the label is simply the most concrete thing that comes out of something a bit more complex," says Acronym, who's been quiet for most of the evening.
Statements like this are typical of Northern Electronics. They're self-aware and trying to understand their label's place, but they're also not afraid to talk about its endgame. "I can really see an end," Rönnberg says. "I don't know when or where, but I think the most important part of doing anything is to know that it will end. But for now, I think we have a good situation. It's not ending now."

"We'll keep going as long as it makes sense to do it," Rashim says. "I don't want this to be one of those adventures that keep on going forever and the quality just fades. At the end all you have is a shell of something that used to be good but isn't anymore. That's the worst thing I can think of."
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