Kid Koala and Amon Tobin: Attack of the Ninja Tunes

The international turntablist community gasped a collective "Oh, shit!" two weeks ago when the Canadian collage-DJ Kid Koala had his record box stolen from a train in southern France. Fortunately, the crate of rare wax was recovered, so when Koala and fellow Ninja Tune labelmate Amon Tobin hit the Middle East downstairs last Sunday night, the wunderkind spinmeister had his trademark collection of test tones, self-depreciating putdowns, and obscure comedy vinyl along with him. But Koala came to Cambridge with more than a deep collection of Mel Brooks sides. He also brought along another DJ, P-Love, and a four-piece band, Bullfrog. This attempt at "short attention span theater," as he described it, broke up the usual monotony of turntablist gigs with live funk jams and plenty of scratch-happy wanking on four turntables. Koala proved himself to be an able ringleader, trading James Brown soul shouts with P-Love on one song, then playing pitch-control melodies over Bullfrog's bossa nova grooves on the next.

The crowd loved everything, from the amazing turntable jazz of "Drunk Trumpet" to the Gary-Glitter-meets-Kraftwerk grooves of "Roboshuffle," even though some stuff, especially Bullfrog's lukewarm indie funk, wasn't so stellar. But Koala charms folks with his cute mug, an "aw shucks" grin, and the stage presence of a well-intentioned Boy Scout troop leader. His goofy riffs and quirky sound sculpting are a pleasant respite from typical turntablist attitude, which is all b-boy braggadocio and macho skill flexing; and to prove that he's more Eric Idle than Eric B., Koala busted ill cuts over the theme music from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Whereas Koala's light-hearted set provoked smiles, the Brazilian-born and London-bred DJ/producer Amon Tobin focused on rattling ribcages and bruising eardrums. All the jazz and classical influences that pepper Tobin's latest Ninja Tune album, Supermodified, were discarded in favor of exhilarating (and exhausting) forays into drum 'n' bass brutality. Barely acknowledging the crowd's presence, Tobin manned the decks for an hour-long set that was all woofer-tearing bass lines, syncopated snare shards, and stomp-box gutter tones. Although he mixed in a few of his own tracks ("Four Ton Mantis," "Sordid"), Tobin focused on sonic mayhem instead of self-promotion or smooth mixing. Nonetheless, a good bulk of the thinned-out crowd danced (or maintained a meditative head nod) until he relented around midnight, when they exited nursing sore necks and ringing ears.

-- Michael Endelman