When the British band the Prodigy played Irving Plaza in New York City this month, something extraordinary happened. Yes, the performance had punk-rock vigor; Keith Flint, the singer-dancer with the shock-rock hairdo, made Halloween faces at the crowd, emcee Maxim did some barechested stage strutting, and band mastermind Liam Howlett coolly orchestrated the show from behind his banks of keyboards. But from the first note, the sweaty, expectant crowd, which had seen the band pushed on MTV for months, began to dance. There's no dancing at alternative-rock shows--people merely mosh, which is as close to dancing as car crashes are to figure skating. But when the Prodigy's deep bass groove hit the crowd, they were off. Feet were moving in time, and arms were swaying with the rhythm. Dance-rock was cool again.
This was supposed to be the summer of "electronica"--artificially flavored pop that relies heavily on synthesizers, samples, loops and dance-beats and less on guitars and vocals. But so far, electronic, or techno, music seems to have only a few more fans in the U.S. than Dennis Rodman has in Utah; the most heralded acts have been weak performers in the marketplace. Now the Prodigy has arrived in the U.S., and its potent album, The Fat of the Land (Maverick/Mute XL/Warner Bros.), due out July 1, is not far behind. Can the band give electronica the jolt it needs?
Others have tried and failed. The ambient electronic group the Orb's newest CD, Orblivion, has sold only 65,000 copies in the U.S.; recent releases by such vaunted acts as the Future Sound of London and Underworld have moved fewer than 60,000--the Spice Girls sold more than that last week. Even the Chemical Brothers, after a media push that would make Madonna blush, has failed to crack Billboard's Top 10. And what's worse, these CDs have been creatively wanting--the Chemical Brothers' Dig Your Own Hole (Astralwerks) features a few songs that energetically blend rock and hip-hop, but Public Enemy and the Beastie Boys did it better in the '80s. The Future Sound of London's Dead Cities (Astralwerks) is as exciting as a dead Tamagotchi, and Underworld's Pearl's Girl (Wax Trax! Records) is only a trifle more fun than having a fax machine call you on your voice line.
Some veteran artists sneer at the hype. "I'm not a big fan of racist-conspiracy theories, but it's hard not to notice that for the last 15 years every R.-and-B., hip-hop and dance record has been an electronic record," says U.S. techno pioneer Moby, who is white. "Then two white British guys [the Chemical Brothers] come along sampling hip-hop without the lyrics, and they're hailed as avant-garde."
Other observers believe the music industry, desperate to revive sales, expected too much. Says Gary Richards, who heads A&M's techno label 1200: "One company tries to sign a band, and another jumps in, and it begins to get out of control." Although lyric-driven techno songs by White Town and Sneaker Pimps have got air play, Vinny Esparanza, co-editor of the Gavin Report, which tracks college-radio-station playlists, says, "A lot of the deejays around now were brought up on punk and grunge, and are unsure how to approach electronic music."