MEAT BEAT MANIFESTO :: Live at Slim’s (San Francisco, CA)

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(04.18.08) THIS was more than just a show, it was an industrial family reunion. I
ran into people I hadn’t seen in years, the kind of people who used to
write drum n bass but ultimately disappeared in their quest to
generate the perfect electronic sound. The kind of people who went to
work for “some tech company” and turned up inventing the technology
you’re using to read this review. And people like me, who can’t seem
to get serious about making a living because we’ve devoted our lives
to music.

Meat Beat Manifesto was the Velvet Underground of industrial music.
They may not have become the most successful group of the genre – and,
in fact, often the music they create isn’t particularly industrial at
all – but everybody who heard Storm the Studio went out and bought a
sampler and spawned an entire generation of music subcultures.

The long reach of Meat Beat Manifesto’s influence was everywhere last
Friday night, not only in the crowd but in the music itself. The holy
trinity of MBM’s sound – breakbeats, dub bass, and extreme sampling –
was the old time religion that brought everyone together. The opening
act, Dub Gabriel and Bomb SF, started things off with youthful dubstep
energy, performing with a live bassist, an MC, and two laptop jockeys
in masks and jumpsuits.

Following them was Badawi, who took a more academic, minimalist
approach to breakbeat dub. Sitting at a small table holding a laptop
and simple MIDI controller, he eased into his set with a deep, pulsing
bass rhythm. Slowly he brought in percussion, then more layers of
percussion and noise, then more challenging polyrhythms and meter
changes.

But Badawi seemed an odd opener for Meat Beat Manifesto. He performed
with a kind of austere, post-IDM bravura – sitting still at his table,
moving occasionally to turn a knob, offering nothing to watch and
nothing to hold onto but the growling bass. In hindsight, though,
Badawi was fitting. I was disappointed not to hear more of the Middle Eastern instrumentation he uses on his albums, but his stripped down,
dub-heavy performance felt appropriate because, undeniably, this music
is part of MBM’s legacy as much as more in-your-face, sample-heavy
breakbeat.

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It’s at this point in the review where things are going to get a
little weird. You see, when Meat Beat Manifesto came onstage, I felt
like a 10-year-old girl getting a pony for Christmas. 10-year-old
girls have neither the ability nor desire to critically evaluate what
such a gift means – they just fucking love that horse. So I’m throwing
critical distance out the window because it simply won’t capture what
was so special about this show. Instead, I present to you excerpts
from what I scribbled in my journal during Meat Beat Manifesto’s set:

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The place is packed. Occasional head of industrial dreadlocks bobbing
up and down. Mad props to the only guy here dressed like Information
Society.

MBM’s rider is 3 bottles of water and a stack of towels. Take that,
Fatboy Slim! They have four stations onstage. A drummer front right.
Video mixer front left. Jack Dangers in the center with two laptops,
some other equipment, microphones, cameras on him. A fourth station
with laptop, mixers, assorted electronics. Two projectors pointing
towards two giant screens back of the stage. Everything linked for
multimedia sequencing. Guy next to me: “That’s a lot of MIDI linkage.
We’re gonna be in for a long night.”

The visuals are blowing my mind. There’s a constant spark of
recognition when you see a visual and hear the familiar sample from it
– like a mental pop when the sample clicks. Hey, that’s Marshall
Applewhite! Oh, Apocalypse Now! Alien! I didn’t know that was fucking
Fred Astaire!

The visuals are working on a series of themes. A few minutes ago, it
was a series of guys falling, slipping away from the camera into a
freefall. Right now it’s a sequence of men eating soup. This is pop
culture mayhem.

People are really digging it. There’s quite a bit of dancing up in
front, and wait! A guy and girl are getting freaky together. Damn. I
want an industrial girlfriend.

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The music is a mixture of new tracks and classics. New dubstep and
noise from Autoimmune alternating with old favorites. I’m glad to
hear music that doesn’t make me feel old, even if it is music that
takes me back.

I push forward to the front of the stage. Guy next to me points at the
visuals: “See how he’s integrating George W. Bush into the guy from
Dr. Strangelove? Oh wait! I just saw McCain!” MBM launches into “God
O.D.” It’s fucking wild. Even the couple grinding at the edge of the
stage are kicking it up a notch.

The music melts down to a crazy series of drum breaks with
accompanying videos – the drummer is struggling to keep up. Then… bam.
Over. MBM leaves the stage.

Cheering, whistling, stomping. I feel like a teenager again.

MBM comes back for an encore with the familiar sample, “Hello teenage
America.” Fuckin’ A.

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There you have it, folks. If you can make it to a show on this tour,
go. If you can’t, too bad. But if you’re even reading this review,
know that your industrial family will be here for you, as long as
there are artists like Meat Beat Manifesto to inspire us.

Autoimmune is out now on Metropolis (US) and Planet Mu (UK). [Purchase]

For tour date information, visit meatbeatmanifesto.com.

Meat Beat Manifesto / Brainwashed / Myspace

Metropolis / Planet Mu