ARTIST

The Chemical Brothers

In years to come, fans of electronic pop music may be amused to learn that two nerdy-looking guys who called themselves brothers spearheaded a movement that eventually took over the music industry. Wishful thinking? If looking at their humble origins as simple DJs in London's techno house scene, Chemical Brothers Tom Rowlands and Ed Simmons would probably agree.

Making their name at The Heavenly Sunday Social, a popular pub venue in London's ever-changing dance scene, the pair favored records with big beats, sirens, and massively dynamic crescendos, all of which figured in their debut recording, Exit Planet Dust. Rolling from track to track like a good dance set, Exit Planet Dust slowly builds in intensity, from the wah-wah bass exultation and funky rock groove of "Leave Home" to the buzzing house funk of "In Dust We Trust," to the wobbly, final climax with "Chemical Beats." Like a bionic Sly & the Family Stone wrestling Public Enemy, the song flexes its big funky muscles, dropping sirens, squishy bass, and flashy drums under the staccato hip-hop chants of "huh huh huh." The track slowly dissipates into "Chico's Groove" and "Life Is Sweet," which have more to do with The Orb than George Clinton.

Exit Planet Dust was a roaring success, even racking up rave reviews in the States. Dig Your Own Hole elaborated on Dust's sonic explosions, adding Oasis' Noel Gallagher for the psychedelic house hit "Setting Sun." The duo's video garnered heavy MTV rotation, and the album debuted on Billboard's rock chart at Number 14. Some songs drew from odd sources. "Piku" recalled a combination of churning synth pop and hard rock, "It Doesn't Matter" was a nerve-wracking disco spiel, while "Get Up on It Like This" combined three drum loops, blaring horns, and scratching keyboard sounds into a delirious funk shoot-out. "The Private Psychedelic Reel" closed the album like a '70s Canterbury group riding sitars, guitars, and funk into the sunset.

Initially thought to be faceless DJs with nothing noteworthy to say, The Chemical Brothers have taken this whole star trip by the horns. Expect more trippy, mega-fried funk from these Manchester turntable terrorists.

Written by Ken Micallef