HEY BOY ? HEY GIRL
Do you think The Chemical Brothers were surprised by their success (I certainly was). Are they squirreling away their millions in case the whole world turns round and notices that these particular dance emperors have no clothes on ? a most unpleasant image. They certainly are not spending any of their money on new ideas, new collaborators or shampoo. It is plain to me that Tom and Ed ? names of one fifth of Radiohead ? never expected to get big. After all, why would they originally call themselves The Dust Brothers. Surely not as a homage to the yank remixers of the same name, more that they thought they could flog a few of their tin-tray rattling tunes under false pretences.
Not only are they wholly responsible for the career of Beth Orton, but they also leant a degree of so called credibility to the in-credible sulk himself (Noel Gallagher) and resurrected the career of those perennial second-raters The Charlatans. How did they do this? Well, they noticed that people liked builds in dance records. They therefore created tunes which contained nothing but builds. Alien to them was the idea that the build had to take the listener somewhere. Nope, in a CB production the build takes you to a wholly new build. Or at least a build which sounds surprisingly like the previous one. Its Build For Build’s Sake – as 10cc would have put it.
Lack of imagination is nothing to scoff at in pop, it?s often the creative buggers who give us the most trouble. That said to tool three double albums which are genetically identical to each other in nearly every sense takes the formula to its limit. Six tracks mixed together ? for the party. Then a Noel Gallagher track, a Beth Orton slowie, a dodgy whispy instrumental and the some ten minute noncey piece with Mercury Rev adding their special touch. That Rev special touch in full is usually a flute and a flanging pedal. The worst thing about the Private Psychadelic Reel is that it wasn?t. Private that is.
Imagine instead, the better world we would live in if instead of making records, the Chemical Brothers (they don?t take chemicals, and they aren?t brothers) had faltered at the first hurdle. ?Do you want to come round and make ground breakingly repetitive records??. In the perfect world the reply would have been ?Nah, I?m washing my hair?. But we don?t live in a perfect world so these superstar DJ?s aren?t going anywhere. Exit Planet Dust – Enter Planet Arse.