Friday, April 30, 1999 | 9:45 a.m.
They've collaborated with U2 but refuse to release anything from the sessions. Ditto a stalled collaboration with Michael Stipe. Their lead singer doesn't care much for singing. Nearly all the songs on their latest album play well past the seven-minute mark; "Cups" runs close to 12. And they're just one component of a design alliance that calls itself "Tomato."
They may sound like lunatics of the first water, but that's Underworld for you. And true to their name, the London techno outfit is hotter than hell right now. "Born Slippy (NUXX)" is still working off the push it received from its appearance at the climax of "Trainspotting" some three years ago, new album "Beaucoup Fish" is getting rave reviews (no pun intended) across the board and tour stops are selling out right and left.
"We've been lucky, haven't we?" says DJ Darren Emerson, calling from Chicago's Riviera Theater. The other two thirds of Underworld, vocalist/guitarist Karl Hyde and programmer Rick Smith, are on stage firing up the equipment needed to make a room packed with disaffected youth into one giant, kinetic, sweaty party consciousness. "It's quite new territory for us, all this support. We're just gonna keep on doing the live thing, pushin' it."
"The live thing" comes to House of Blues at 1 a.m. Saturday. If it's anything like the breathless fan reports on Underworld's website (dirty.org), expect a seamless mix of hyper-disco beats, catchy melodies (a distinction that sets Underworld apart from many of its techno brethren) and Hyde's rapid-fire, improvised wordplay. Imagine Gregory Corso fronting Kraftwerk and you're still nowhere near it.
What's most remarkable about Underworld's live synergy is that there's nothing in their recording method that would suggest it.
"We all have our own studios, so we work individually sometimes," says Emerson. "We get together at the end of the day and see what sounds good to each other, and whether it sounds good to other people. We're chopping and changing (tracks) all the time." "Beaucoup Fish" was a year and a half in the making -- announced by the frenzy of "Moaner" on the soundtrack to 1997's despicable "Batman and Robin" -- but Emerson insists there was no tedium; quite the opposite, actually.
"When all three of us are in the studio, it can become a bit tiring sometimes," he says. "You feel like you want to do something, but only one programmer can work behind the computer at a time."
Emerson kept his mind and hands limber by spinning discs at London clubs. The DJ's learned technique of crowd control (see Iara Lee's wonderful film "Modulations" for more on this), and the buoyancy of the music probably helps the band's live show, the fan reaction to which recalls the adulation given a certain Irish band. What happened to those U2 tracks?
"I don't think we'll put them out. We wanted it to be more like a collaboration, rather than an Underworld remix of U2," Emerson says. "We're still friends. They're up for experimenting; I think that's cool."
It's a harder path, but Underworld walks it with a shambling, almost bemused gait. When watching their set, try to remember that these guys have Bono on DAT in their archive, gathering dust. In a time where most artists coast on little more than a reputation and a sense of entitlement, Underworld's devotion to craft is a prize, paid off in beats strong enough to bend souls and smart enough to turn corners.
Stereo DynamicsPizzicato Five, "Playboy & Playgirl," Matador: For the uninitiated, a brief primer on Tokyo's Pizzicato Five is in order. Today, the group is down to a core duo of studio whiz Yasuharu Konishi and vocalist Maki Nomiya. And as always, P5 takes the whole pop catalog of the 1960s -- everything from The Beach Boys to "Casino Royale" -- internalizes it, and re-creates it with a breezy flair that delights a growing base of devoted and annoys just as many. It's Burt Bacharach with a Japanese accent -- if you don't like one of those qualifiers, you won't like the band.
"Playboy & Playgirl" follows the pattern set by its previous releases, too closely: if you have one, that's enough. (P5's dogged adherence to form recalls a David Bowie comment on Kraftwerk's Florian Schneider: "He's a craftsman who makes the same chair over and over. It's always beautifully made, and it's always the same chair.") The wild, horn-driven rave-up is here ("Week-end"), as is the low-watt R&B smoker ("Such a Beautiful Girl Like You"). The breakbeats that spiced up previous release "Happy End of the World" have been shelved, replaced by live strings ("I Hear a Symphony"); the core of their sound remains largely unchanged.
Unlike Combustible Edison, which sent their loungecore sound into a new and different arena with "The Impossible World," P5 seems all too happy to remain in the same, comfortable zone. Still, as morning music goes there's nothing finer, and you should acquire at least one of their albums. Even if the changes from record to record are purely cosmetic, at least they're high-quality cosmetics.
Get out, Act UpSo I like the Crash Test Dummies. Big deal. They've got some good songs, you know. The quirky Canadians play the House of Blues tonight at 9, with opening band Sixpence None the Richer -- proof, if ever any existed, that every decent band name has been exhausted. Call 632-7600.
If there were some way I could make tattooed love punk Mike Ness a regular in Caesars' big room, I would. As it stands, I'm more than happy to check out the Social Distortion frontman's solo gig 8 p.m. Saturday at the House of Blues. But I'd still get a real kick out of seeing him croon "Night and Day."
But wait, there's thrash! Local purveyors A Pig Named Jodi, Buster Crack and Pimp scare the plaster off the Sanctuary Saturday night at 8. Be at least 18 years of age or just don't be there. Call 477-7703.
Is it true? Oh, yeah! Masta blasta Beck plays the Tropicana's Tiffany Theater Thursday at 9 p.m. Call 739-2411 and don't wear anything too constraining.
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