Electro-Corn
Chromeo proves more calculated cheese than cutting-edge pop
The night started off on a sour note. In line at the El Rey to see electro-funk act Chromeo last Friday (January 18), I made the mistake of protesting the venue’s ID-scanning procedure. I didn’t want my home address being sucked into any marketing-industrial vortex. “I don’t know you,” I explained matter-of-factly to the security troll. “How about you give me your address?” He barked back: “West 54th Street. Come on down and visit sometime.” I shook my head and moved on, but he kept on barking to make an example of me in front of all the kiddies. “Really,” he yelled, “I hope to see you there.” OK, gangsta.
Things didn’t get much better. The old theater was filled with geeky cool kids in tights, mullets, and other ’80s-inspired garb. (I actually spotted a young woman in shiny purple bicycle shorts, I swear.) It allowed 18-and-ups to enter along with those of drinking age. As a result, older guys were buying two and three drinks at a time, you know. It’s always a bad idea to mix under-21s with legal-age drinkers, but the crowd was fairly well behaved.
The problem was that these kids, like their elementary-school teachers only a few years back, love everything that’s put in front of them. Give them a gold star for that. Opener Peanut Butter Wolf was VJing a mishmash of video classics ranging from Van Halen’s “Jump” to Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin,’” all the while explaining his non sequiturs over the microphone: “This is Japanese hip-hop.” The crowd went wild. I could have thrown a turd on the screen, and these nerds would’ve needed paper bags to contain their hyperventilated enthusiasm. Wolf, by the way, is part of L.A.’s downer-than-thou indie hip-hop scene. Since when did those hoodie-wearing backpackers join forces with the pop-is-good poseurs at the El Rey?
By the time the Montréal-based headliners hit the stage, my eyes were rolling like the Dow Jones Industrial Average. The duo, Patrick “P-Thugg” Gemayel and Dave “1” Macklovitch, is the second coming of Elvis as far as this crowd was concerned. Chromeo’s brand of electronic pop – shiny, tongue-in-cheek interpretations of ’80s freestyle and P- (as in Prince) funk – seems whimsical, satirical, and cheeky. That’s all fine if you’re doing a “Dick in the Box” skit, but these guys take themselves somewhat seriously (and certainly their fans do).
Cornier-than-Nebraska tracks such as “Tenderoni” and “Needy Girl,” along with the duo’s Wayfarer shades, low-fi samples, and Dazz Band talk-boxing took us to Weird Al territory. But remember, Weird Al was a novelty act. These guys are just weird. The pair’s skinny-tie synth work and Rick Astley vocals are catchy, sure. But cool? This ’80s obsession is just government cheese. In between quick hits from its latest, Fancy Footwork, Chromeo even went ’90s on us, unleashing snippet covers of 2Pac’s “California Love,” and Snoop Dogg’s “Ain’t No Fun.”
“This is the stuff we grew up on, for real,” Macklovitch told the crowd. “This is, like, before YouTube, y’all.” Old school. In fact, the duo’s sampler told us, Chromeo is “gangsta, gangsta.” And then, like a YouTube video, the show was over.
With its first release on DJ Tiga’s Turbo records in 2002, Chromeo rose out of the ashes of the contrived “electroclash” scene. These guys are older than most of their fans, and they’re not dumb. (Macklovitch reportedly teaches French at Columbia University.) And they’re definitely savvy about the whims of the modern music market. (Maklovitch’s brother is Kanye West’s celebrated DJ, A-Trak.) All this leads you to wonder if Chromeo’s just a big, calculated put-on designed to tap the praise-me-now millennials who flocked to the El Rey. The show can be described as parentally approved, detuned edginess that’s just safe enough for a coddled generation, yet irreverent enough to seem rebellious. But Chromeo’s wink-wink gangsta prancing makes you wonder: Who’s the joke on? Because that kind of satire, coming from a French professor and a talk-box aficionado, could get you shot around here. I get the feeling the joke is on the audience.
As the show ended before midnight and the minivans rolled in to pick up kids in braces, I wondered if I’d rather have spent the evening on West 54th in South Los Angeles, after all. At least the experience would have been real.
Published: 01/23/2008
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why dont you get a life and stop complaining when people are trying to just have fun together?
That show was sold out and I know lots of people who would have loved to be at that show, and to hear you complaining about seeing the show (and for free i might add) it makes me sick.