(06.13.05) THERE have been shows I’ve seen that I equate to religious experiences (Legendary Pink Dots, Gridlock) and then there are the shows I have missed for outrageously irritating reasons that could’ve been on the top-shelf with the rest of my treasured memories. I didn’t have a phony ID to see GusGus with Lamb and my former trusty wonder car with a squashed soda can holding up a busted pop-up headlight gobbled up my Orbital & Underworld allowance with a new clutch. On their first tour since 2002 (and, primarily stopping at “danceterias,” to quote Rob Brown,) Autechre have returned to the stages to preach their digital gospel to their faithful, but terribly fickle following, and I am glad they decided to set up “church” at the Mezzanine club in San Francisco on a Friday night so I could be baptized into their live experience with plenty of time for recovery.
After hoovering my 9:45 PM Venti Affogato Frappuccino before stepping inside the venue, my jaw dropped when I saw shirts for sale. I gladly surrendered my legal tender and headed for will-call, since I seemed to be the only bloke in the joint wearing an “I am not Keef Baker” shirt. The crowd was very San Francisco, a pleasantly diverse variety of people; some I overheard voicing their varied opinions on past Ae shows, and wondering if this show would live up to their expectations. Rob Hall‘s infectious set was already luring dancers to bop to its pulse in the background, and a short time later, I noticed someone chatting it up wearing a not-so-fashionable neck brace. I wouldn’t let a silly neck injury keep me from this night, either!
SND followed suit with a mixture of critical beats pillowed between tiny pockets of subtle melodies sewn open and spilling over with crisp icy clarity. Maybe it was because I missed my vital disco nap that day because I chose to ransack Amoeba records for 3 hours before the show instead, but
all throughout SND‘s 50-minute set I kept experiencing a surprisingly 
pleasant buzzing sensation near the top of my head. SND completed their engaging set and I could tell they had set the anticipation for Autechre in motion. They were the tasty appetizers, but it was time for the main course. I decided it was time to relish the liquid SweeTart taste of Red Bull at midnight; I wanted to be alert since I remembered that Autechre preferred to perform in the dark.
And dark it was. A bloody dark, bloody hot and bloody good 90 minutes of frenzied insanity that had the entire packed room moving, with sparse evidence of the ubiquitous chin scratching non dancing types usually blocking your view of the stage. Rob Brown and Sean Booth were both barely visible anyway, save for the blinking LEDs of their setup illuminating their hands like they were bobblehead alien alchemists deftly manipulating a cadre of seamless rhythms, prompting hoots and applause with each silky segue. A quick accidental look up at the skylights in the ceiling revealed an intimate overhead view of their meticulous work; their setup had more lights than that W.O.P.R. computer from the movie War Games. I tried to get a respectful no-flash picture for posterity, but before the voice behind me could say “don’t waste your battery,” my camera went dead.
A flurry of insistent, complex beats flew from the speakers all around, and at one point, a seriously DSP’ed voice sounding like a chopped up whoosh popped up in the mix. It could have been reciting the Ten Commandments for all I knew; I must have needed a little something extra in that Red Bull to fully decipher the message. All the while, I was trying to scribble down notes in my pad by the glow of my Nokia and prayed I wouldn’t need that magic Red Bull to make out what I was writing down later.
Near the end of the show, Sean Booth glanced at his watch, a signal for the Ae-style everything-but-the-kitchen-sink intense freakout that soon followed to reduce the crowd to blissed out mania as it built layer upon layer with increasing intensity to a surging crescendo and eventually came to a grinding halt. This show surpassed my expectations by far; aside from the possibility my virgin status might influence my opinion. All I know is my feet were killing me and I felt destroyed when I finally got home at 5:45 AM, and I think that’s exactly what Autechre set out to do.
Autechre‘s Untilted is out now on Warp Records.
