From Sam Frank Sent Sun, Aug 9th 1998, 05:12
From Sam Frank Sent Sun, Aug 9th 1998, 05:12
This is from today's NYTimes. I really think that Sasha Frere-Jones, along with Douglas Wolk, Peter Shapiro, David Toop, (sometimes Simon Reynolds and Kodwo Eshun), and a few others whose names escape me, are doing a really good job of bringing electronic music to larger audiences (Frere-Jones writes for The Wire, but also for Spin, the Village Voice(?), and now the Times). Any other writers worth keeping an eye out for? ***** With Roots in Dance Music but Not for Dancing By SASHA FRERE-JONES IT'S not uncommon nowadays to see the funky techno of the Prodigy and the jazzy drum-and-bass of Roni Size described in the music press as electronica. This usage is odd for two reasons. The first is that terms like techno and drum-and-bass, or even just dance music, already ably describe the work of these artists. The second is that electronica had a different meaning before American writers, looking to herald the next big thing in pop music, got their hands on the word. The term first appeared in the early 1990's in the English press when artists like Aphex Twin and Autechre started using the equipment of dance music -- samplers, drum machines and synthesizers -- to make instrumental music that had little to do with dancing and more to do with texture and patterns. The vagueness of the word matched the music's alien nature; it was hard to know what to make of fractured, skidding music like Autechre's "Tri Repetae" but easy to tell that it had been made with electronic equipment. Two new albums, Plastikman's "Consumed" and Lithops's "Uni Umit," hew to electronica's original definition. Both are hard to describe but remarkable, proving that electronica is not as alienating or superficial as its naysayers claim. Both Richie Hawtin, who performs under the name Plastikman, and Jan Werner (a k a Lithops) have roots in dance music, but their new albums are not likely to make anyone dance. These albums are triumphs of abstract sound, the sonic equivalent of stones found on the beach, revealing new bumps and streaks with each examination, kept for no reason other than their beauty. Mr. Hawtin, 27, is from Windsor, Ontario, a town close enough to Detroit -- the birthplace of techno -- to be considered one of its suburbs. Inspired by the sleek, electronic funk released in the late 1980's by techno pioneers from Detroit like Jeff Mills and Juan Atkins, Mr. Hawtin released his first singles in 1990, functional tunes in the "acid" techno genre. (The genre gets its name not from the drug but from the harsh sound of the Roland TB-303 keyboard.) Plastikman albums like "Sheet One" (1993) and "Muzik" (1994) filtered the abrasive pulse of acid through an elegant sense of timing and space, creating a minimalist dance music unlike anything being played in clubs at the time. And though Mr. Hawtin has continued working as a DJ since his debut as a recording artist, organizing ambitious parties in abandoned buildings and playing raves around the world, "Consumed" (Mute) is his least dance-oriented album yet. Tracks like "Passage (In)" and "Consume" move to a steady 4/4 pulse, but the syncopation that typified his previous work is gone. The thumps and the pinglike sound of searching radar create a mood in "Consumed" that is oceanic and hypnotic yet hardly New Age: the tension is too thick. W HERE P LASTIKMAN'S spooky marine music may evoke big, dark places, "Uni Umit" (Moikai) sounds like a series of extreme close-ups. A collection of untitled pieces Mr. Werner recorded between 1994 and 1997, "Uni Umit" is full of amplified sounds that could have started as mistakes: fingers rubbing strings, objects colliding, speakers growling. To this bubbling mix Mr. Werner adds lovely, sliding melodies at unexpected moments. The result is a self-contained sound world that evokes one of Joseph Cornell's box sculptures lighted from within. When Mr. Werner works with his partner, Andi Toma, they call themselves Mouse on Mars. This duo, based in Dsseldorf, Germany, released its debut album, "Vulvaland," in 1994. A mix of drum machines and what sounds like faulty kitchen appliances, the album was one of the first of the 1990's to suggest that electronic music could be about more than precision and repetition. The twosome's subsequent albums, "Iaora Tahiti" and "Autoditacker," abandoned standard rhythms and further developed those scratchy, unexpected sounds. Mouse on Mars has just released a vinyl-only album called "Glam" (Sonig/Thrill Jockey), which was commissioned for a soundtrack for a Tony Danza film and later rejected. More varied and energetic than "Uni Umit," it is the work of artists who still feel a sense of wonder at the possibilities of sound. Although it seems unlikely that electronica, whatever definition one chooses, will ever replace rock or pop, artists like Richie Hawtin and Jan Werner are making rich and useful music. It is doubtful, though, that anyone will ever ask a wedding band to play a Lithops song. The strength of this subtle, oblique music is precisely that it takes listeners to places other genres don't reach. Heard this way, electronica is neither the next big thing or a new name for an old form. It is simply music worth listening to. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com