Review: Method: An encounter of its own kind

Geoff Carter

Thursday, Aug. 16, 2001 | 8:24 a.m.

Vegas-bred techno outfit the Crystal Method is not of this Earth. Like the unidentified flying objects of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," its stage show is all colored lights and smoke; like the alien intelligence of that film, it communicates through music; and like the aliens in "Close Encounters," the band itself is only glimpsed fleetingly between bursts of strobe lighting -- its shape indeterminate, its purpose unknown.

Touring in support of "Tweekend" -- the Method's first new album in five years -- Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland drew on that old alien charm to whip through a set that was as invigorating as it was disorienting. The duo's celebrated "breakbeats" have only grown tougher in the intervening years, and their sense of melody has become as keen as a sword edge. There's real genius in the somewhat woozy "Over the Line" and the sexy "Wild, Sweet and Cool," and in "Name of the Game," the band has crafted its catchiest hook yet.

To its credit, the Method opened with three new songs, and doled out the now-familiar "Vegas" with surprising economy. Singles from the Method's "Vegas" -- most notably "Busy Child" and "Keep Hope Alive" -- have been used in dozens of films, television shows, commercials, and even in a video game or two. That the band didn't lead with this material shows how confident it has grown with performing. (Jordan told me, back in 1996, that he was "kind of embarrassed to be onstage" -- I'm glad he's over that.) Kirkland swings his keyboards as Pete Townsend once swung a guitar, while Jordan banters with the crowd -- they've become rock stars, good and proper.

Whether that's the right thing for them is hard to say. To my mind, their music remains a solid accompaniment to action, and not a catalyst for it; watching the band onstage, you can't help wishing for something to happen, like when rapper Ryu stepped to the fore during "Name of the Game." They sound amazing, but more often than not I found myself closing my eyes, exploring the more interesting world the band's instrumentals had built inside.

A wall of strobe lights, while an attention-getter, can become somewhat monotonous to look at without a line of go-go dancers in front. Their sound, while mightily compelling, is not a sound you can see. In that single respect, a show by the Crystal Method differs from a UFO sighting: You can describe quite clearly what you heard, and who was with you when you heard it -- but for your life, you've only the vaguest memory of what that low-flying mothership looked like.

That said, what does it matter as long as those tones ring out loud and clear? The Method's music can blow the lid off the most tightly screwed of heads. If you didn't believe in alien intelligence before you discovered the Method, you will after -- and spend the rest of your life trying to explain it to nonbelievers. History will want a word picture of these sounds and sensations -- and a description of two guys bent over keyboards won't convince anyone. Your ears must hear the Crystal Method before your eyes can believe.