Band charms with eerie sounds and rhythms

By Kristin Fiore
Daily Bruin Senior Staff

Defunct missiles and cannons, walls and floors covered with
government paraphernalia – what better place to hold an industrial
concert?

Actually, Friday’s show at the American Legion Hall with Meat
Beat Manifesto, Loop Guru and DJ Spooky seemed more like a rave
than a show – platform shoed and raspberry-haired fans buying "rave
glasses" and ambient tapes, smoking (everything but) cigarettes and
dancing as though possessed by the ancient goddess of groove.

Even between acts, the audience members were lost in their own
musical trances, choreographing rituals that seemed to shut out the
universe.

At 10:30 on the dot, however, the crowd joined to let out a
collective howl as Meat Beat Manifesto took the stage and began to
spin its eerie brand of sci-fi space rock.

The band started out strong with new songs off the
recently-released double album "Subliminal Sandwich" as well as old
favorites, though they did save some gems for later in the show.
After the first hour, the music lagged a bit, blending together in
a somewhat repetitive grind. But the audience didn’t seem to mind
too much; most kept on dancing, though some made a beeline for the
bar.

The stage set the tone for the show, with the band’s four bald
heads and hi-tech equipment bathed in an alien green light. The
entire ensemble was backed by a monstrous screen playing sci-fi
videos.

The crowd dived in immediately and was, in a way, the perfect
audience – enthusiastically yelling and dancing without moshing or
being obnoxious. You could make your way to the front rows with
little difficulty, and there was even room to dance there. The last
rows, normally reserved for the "too cool to be anything but bored"
crowd, were also alive with tragically unhip fans flailing their
arms and flipping hair of every unnatural color.

In another way, though, the crowd and band seemed engaged in a
phenomenon rare even for industrial and trance bands shows.
Usually, the crowd directs all of its energy toward the band, or
turns away in disgust and boredom to pool tables, cigarettes or
meaningless chatter.

But, despite all the passionate dancing and occasional cries of
approval for songs like the 1990 classic "Helter Skelter" and the
current single "Asbestos Lead Asbestos", the audience largely
ignored the band and held its own party.

Leather-clad punks and baby-doll-wearing girls swung and spun
ferociously, facing not the band, but the sterile, white walls that
lined the hall.

Others flung their arms in worship – or drunken stupor – onto
the colossal speakers that blasted Meat Beat’s samples and
aggressive rhythms throughout the entire auditorium. Their clothes
fluttered with the sheer power of the sound which could deafen the
hardiest of concert goers.

Only the front row religiously faced the stage, holding the
usually-coveted position that tonight seemed not only undesired,
but unnoticed entirely. The back rows, the cheap leather seats that
lined the hall and even the rooms in the lobby were in constant
motion and apparent ecstasy – everything blending with the music,
but not with the band onstage producing it.

This unusual mix of enthusiasm and indifference may stem from
Meat Beat’s absorbing, hard-hitting songs which lack the human
quality that normally draws an audience into the band itself.

The songs rely on keyboards, samples and machines as complex
looking as air traffic control centers instead of live vocals and
instruments (though occasional singing and guitar is used). To tip
off those who couldn’t hear the indifference, the drummer was
placed front, center-stage, which never happened even when Phil
Collins sang and played drums during Genesis shows. Meat Beat
Manifesto also carries a creepy, impersonal tone that, while
intoxicating, distances the performers from the crowd.

There was also minimal chit-chat between the two parties, as no
one from the band stepped forward to be the official "front man."
This was clearly not a problem for the audience, which was
completely absorbed and having a great time, but one wonders how
satisfying it was for the band.

Often, the best and most fulfilling performances are based on
the connection between the performer and the crowd that seemed
particularly lacking tonight. The show seemed to continue as a rave
with DJs throughout most of Meat Beat’s set. The strobe lights and
sci-fi videos flashing on a screen behind the band added to that
mood, as did the sandwiching of each band between DJs like New
York’s legendary Spooky and KCRW’s incomparable Jason Bentley, who
spun records after the show ended.

Though the post-show hour is normally a time when tired, sweaty
fans crowd the exit doors in a mad race to get to their cars first,
fans on Friday didn’t miss a beat as the music switched from live
to DJ. Half an hour after Meat Beat Manifesto left the stage, the
hall was still crowded with dancers and stragglers trading
philosophies and favorite bands or buying cassettes.

The show was a raving success (pun intended) despite the odd
chemistry – or lack of it – between the band and the fans. Meat
Beat Manifesto yet again proved its place among the most innovative
and enduring industrial bands. That aside, it must be said (as one
fan put it), "The crowd was more interesting than the band."

CONCERT: Meat Beat Manifesto played the
American Legion Hall on Friday, Sept. 27.