The Chemistry Set We Asked For

Geoff Carter

Wednesday, June 9, 1999 | 6:03 a.m.

First published on May 17, 1997.

Like any organization worth its pudding, The Orb obviously learned about marketing early in their career. Near the end of their set, opening for techno-darlings the Chemical Brothers (May 2 at the Hard Rock Joint), the video screens flashed the slogans "SUBMIT," "OBEY," and "ONLY ONE TRUTH."

While this "1984"-style posturing was likely a joke (remember, this is the group that released an album, "Pomme Fritz", on which every song title related to fried foods), the slogans had an eerie resonance. The two bands drew a rock-sized sellout crowd with nary a guitar in sight. Electronica is this year's religion, its ecstasy-soaked imagery and guileless spirit completely intact. The Orb was just stating the obvious.

Fortunately, this religion rocks. The Orb's two-hour set would have put Pink Floyd to shame, if the gentrified hippies had the courage to acknowledge their progeny. (Rumor has it that Floyd frontman David Gilmour growls at reporters who ask him if he's heard the Orb.) The aforementioned screens flooded the mind with rich, colorful imagery while the duo whooshed through their repertoire with a fury one wouldn't expect from the acknowledged masters of the modern ambient sound. Eno would have been proud.

The Chemical Brothers took the stage just after midnight, launching into "Loops Of Fury" with a righteous frenzy that didn't let up. More than any other artist of the genre, the Brothers illustrate why the medium is thriving: it is a medium, not a message. Tellingly, the intellebeams weren't aimed at the band, but the crowd.

Many rock bands demand that you stare at them reverentially as they bend over their instruments, doing basically nothing (Billy Corgan, are you out there?). The Chemical Brothers want you to look at the dancing fools around you, to be part of the experience. Little wonder the average arena-rock goon hates this music: nobody gets hurt.

The was one bad note: DJ Shoe, host of KUNV's "Dimensional Dance," was promised an hour or two to spin before the bands took the stage - a promise that was revoked the night of the show. It was the only discordant note in an otherwise flawless night of hard beats and sizzling submission. Pomme Fritz, indeed.