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

(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.

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.

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