Metric system
Techno pushes the speed limit
by Matt Ashare
The tone for this year's CMJ Musicfest -- and, in a sense, for the big
trend of late '97 -- was set by the opening-night party last week at Roseland
in New York City, where a handful of techno dudes (Crystal Method, Daft Punk,
Fluke, Death in Vegas, and the Aphex Twin) were joined by the higher-profile,
femme-fatale-fronted British outfit the Sneaker Pimps. It was a stiff shot of
the new electronica served with a fizzy rock chaser from a band who shrewdly
filter their fluid techno-pop through layered sheets of overdriven guitar. Or,
as I began to think, it was electronica's sleek new metric system of finely
calibrated BPMs inching toward the stubborn American mainstream (if such
a thing still exists) in steps still measured by the, um, familiar yardstick of
modern rock.
A pared-down version of the same show, featuring headliners the Sneaker Pimps
and the Aphex Twin, with jungle DJ Luke Vibert and the edgy Brit-rock band
Linoleum, arrived in Boston, at Avalon, last Sunday. Actually, Linoleum, whose
Geffen debut was produced by local Fort Apache dudes Sean Slade and Paul
Kolderie, arrived too late for the early 5 p.m. show, cutting the bill's rock
quotient in half. But there was still plenty of guitar-bass-and-drums from the
Sneaker Pimps to balance the drum 'n' bass Vibert spun between sets.
It might have been interesting to see how many people would have shown up just
for the Aphex Twin, an eccentric and normally reclusive Cornish-born DJ whose
given name, Richard D. James, is also the title of his most recent Elektra CD.
(He also records under the names AFX, Polygon Window, Metapharstic, Caustic
Window, Dice Man, Joyrex, etc.) James doesn't make songs so much as create
intriguing, generally wordless, not necessarily danceable, and often hookless
sonic constructions, none of which has been suitable for commercial radio in
the US. Yet press coverage coupled with word-of-mouth and an American
major-label deal has made him one of the better known sonic auteurs to emerge
from Britain's rave culture over the past few years.
As it was, even the Sneaker Pimps, whose trip-hoppy single "6 Underground"
(from Becoming X -- released last year in England on Clean Up and this
year in the US by Virgin) hit big on radio and MTV, didn't manage to draw a
full house for their 6:30 p.m. show, which set dense, computer-enhanced rock
against a techno backdrop of ethereal synth tones, ghostly samples, and the
screened images of computer data and circuitry diagrams. At their best, the
Pimps offer a sleazier, spiritually debased version of Portishead's sensual
slow dances, with frontwoman Kelli Dayton's cooing voice seductively grinding
against rocky guitars and echoey grooves. The result brings to mind the "dance
remixes" of the '80s, whereby technologically savvy rock bands like U2 and
Simple Minds would turn their hits over to a producer who would recast the tune
as a dance-club number by emphasizing the bass and drum tracks, slapping on a
whole lotta reverb, and fading the guitars and vocals in and out of the mix. It
also recalls mid-'80s Siouxsie and the Banshees with deeper beats, though I
swear the vocal line from "6 Underground" is a permutation of a Tears for Fears
hook.
Unfortunately, the Sneaker Pimps weren't even as visually compelling or
engaging on stage as the Banshees, who themselves were never known to be a
particularly exciting band. And with Dayton's crucial vocal melodies buried in
the mix, it was hard to tell the mid-tempo thump of "Becoming X" (the set
opener) from the mid-tempo thud of "Walking Zero." Indeed, the Aphex Twin, who
hit the stage at 8 p.m., was more entertaining -- and he spent his entire set
lying down on a sofa with his head hidden behind an array of mixing consoles.
James began his set by deconstructing a Kraftwerkian synth motif until all
that was left was a barrage of rapid-fire beats. He went on to tweak an
undulating jungle rhythm until it sounded like a swarm of malfunctioning
helicopters, and he layered squiggles on top of blips until they resembled a
chorus of Nintendos. Comic relief was provided by a pair of dancing (and
humping) stagehands in giant teddy-bear costumes (one pink, one orange), but it
was even more amusing to watch a gradually thinning crowd of people watch a guy
lie on a sofa for an hour.
At the CMJ Musicfest, the presence of guys like Vibert and James had
the effect of making the grungy, Mudhoney-style garage punk of the Murder City
Devils (who played a modestly attended Sub Pop showcase) and the
country-flavored pop of Amy Rigby (who played on two of the festival's four
nights) seem suddenly quaint. But it's not yet clear how or even whether an
artist like the Aphex Twin will ever be able to navigate America's sturdy rock
infrastructure. The speed limit here is still posted miles per hour, not
kilometers and not BPMs.