INTERVIEW BYSEAN OCEAN
In the dense ecosystem of Detroit’s underground, few figures command as much quiet respect as Bill Spencer, a man frequently characterized as one of the city’s most essential best-kept secrets. A multivalent presence whose work spans from the gritty, vinyl-only house sets of the Marble Bar to the lush, Spencer operates as a vital bridge between Michigan’s deep musical heritage and its electronic future.
Some people have described you as one of Detroit’s “best-kept secrets.” Do you find that this designation gives you more freedom to operate within the underground electronic and rare-groove scenes without the pressures of mainstream expectations?
I think that anytime someone calls you a “best-kept secret,” it’s flattering but also a little funny. It’s definitely not something I set out to be. But yeah, I do think there is freedom in operating without a lot of eyes on you or positioning yourself where that is not the ultimate goal. I’ve never really gotten any enjoyment out of self-promotion or the attention Olympics and would rather just indulge in whatever is inspiring me at the moment.
It seems Carlos Souffront, Tadd Mullinix, and Todd Osborn have been pivotal in shaping your musical trajectory. What was it about this specific regional connection that taught you to value eclectic, high-skill selection over adhering to a single genre?
Those three were definitely the first DJs who shaped my style and approach. When I first started DJing, they weren’t just the local guys I looked up to; they were also literally the people I was buying records from when first starting out. What struck me about all of them was this total lack of boundaries in their selections, but always extremely high quality. With all of them, you’d hear such a range of styles and sounds, but it all made sense because the thread was always feel and musicality, never genre. I think this was also regionally experienced as another big influence of mine, which was Detroit radio with DJs like Wax Tax’n Dre and DJ Fingers. You’d hear house, boogie, electro, ghettotech, and techno all in the same hour block. Both of those were greatly influential and inspiring as I started out and continue to be.
With the label Just Us Records, you and Izaak Schlossman focus on independently produced R&B, soul, and jazz. This at surface level seems kind of eclectic. How do you decide which musical themes are worth following for years? Is it more or less based on the concept of keeping Midwest soul alive?
It’s less about a geographic mission statement and more about following what genuinely moves us. Izaak and I have been sending music back and forth daily for years, and we kept arriving at the same conclusion: there’s this enormous well of independently produced music from the 80s, 90s, and early 00s that remains mostly unacknowledged despite the quality of the work. I’m always drawn to music that can have a second life, especially in a different context than it was created.
In your residency, A Month of Sundays, you guide listeners through everything from prog rock to psychedelic dub. In your mind, is the residency a chance to say something personal or about educating a global audience toward these sounds?
It’s definitely coming from a personal place, but honestly it’s starting from a selfish one, which is just a desire to share the things I’m excited about. Recording mixes and sharing them online has always been my main source of output. It’s this format to explore whatever I’ve been into lately or a way to dig deeper into a sound, vibe, or era and present it in a contained, complete way. NTS (Radio) as a platform is perfect for that because the audience is global and already curious and pretty open-minded, so I feel lucky to have it as a regular thing in my life.
In the collaboration with Saginaw, Real Talk included explicit political statements. How important is it for Detroit electronic music to remain socially conscious and engaged with its environment today?
I think it’s impossible to make or play music in Detroit and not be in conversation with the social and political realities of the city. The history of the music from here is inseparable from the Black experience in this city, in everything that shaped this place, from the labor movement to deindustrialization. I think Detroit electronic music has always been socially conscious at its core, even when it’s not explicit. So yeah, I do think it’s important for artists here to remain engaged with their environment—the city gives and has given us so much, and the music should reflect that.
Describe your involvement with the party “Suck It.” It sort of functions as both a queer underground disco and an electronic cabaret—is that correct?
Yes, that was a party I did with Geoffrey LaRue, who was the real driving force and visionary for that monthly, though we have not done it in many years since Geoffrey moved to Berlin. The theatrical element of the night was definitely genuine, though Geoffrey and I certainly leaned into a “schtick.” At its heart, it was a community-focused party that was dedicated to creating a fully inclusive place.
Also, you’re affiliated with Suck It while working with Geoffrey LaRue. There’s something of a dramatic and indulgent push-and-pull dynamic going on there, yeah?
Yeah, we definitely had this very yin-yang thing going on behind the decks. We have very different instincts at the moment, but they complement each other in this really dramatic way. There is definitely very real tension and release in how we play together that I think is part natural and part orchestrated.
