(12.06.07) I wonder if anyone really loves fucking to IDM. Of the billions of
people in this world, there’s got to be at least one kinky Casanova
who totally gets down and dirty to 200 bpm. I can imagine him
referring to it as “Squarepushin” or “Coming to Daddy” or something
equally unsubtle. This is not subtle music.
Me, I can’t bone to this stuff. Did you ever try fucking on acid? It’s
just not the way things were meant to be. But that’s not to say this
spastic cold shower of a genre is at all bad. Albums like I Broke My
Robot’s Tomorrow Does Not Exist just have their time and place. It
is beyond clichéd now to observe that music like this is best enjoyed
in headphones rather than sweaty dance floors. But there is still a
deep connection between the two. You see, the pleasure in this CD
comes from its assault on what makes dance music sexy. You want funky
bass lines? Sorry. Looking for danceable rhythms? Not here. How about
memorable melodies? No. This is dance music turned inside out, ripped
apart, sewn back together, then set on fire.
Tomorrow Does Not Exist is fundamentally disagreeable. And yet the
depth of I Broke My Robot’s depravity is intriguing. The first four
tracks thrash about like a caged animal – aggressive, dejected,
passionate, afraid. Like any reasonable person, my instinct is to
recoil. But the fifth track is like, “Baby, don’t be like that,” and
its impassioned synth swells and improbably sad drum patterns bring me
back, hold me close, quiet my doubts.
It’s a short reprieve. The next two tracks shatter my trust into tiny
shards of rhythmic nonsense. It’s not until track eight, peculiarly
titled “evio_latt,” that any sense of emotional rapport reemerges. But
I’m strangely unsatisfied. True, the drum programming is righteous.
The rhythmic edits are mind-blowing. But the conflict between beauty
and terror, the sadomasochistic soul of IDM, is missing. Tomorrow
Does Not Exist is simply not seductive enough, not as nasty as it
could be. I want more.
The trouble is that IDM proposes ever-increasing novelty, and when you
don’t get it, it’s a cock-tease. Maybe the problem is that nobody
really fucks to IDM. We spend far too much time actually listening to
Tomorrow Does Not Exist is out now on Broken Fader Cartel. [Purchase]