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(Clicka qua per la versione Italiana)
Summary.
The last dance "cross-over" of the 1990s was to be the one between techno and
rock music (or "big beat"). This happened almost by accident, as a number of
British producers and djs reacted to the intellectual wing of dance-music
by focusing on more accessible dance-music that relied on shameless, old-fashioned catchy breakbeats and silly, novelty-like samples. Because it did not
depend so much on studio trickery, it could be performed live, thus meeting
the demand of the rock audience. Because it could be performed live, it
reasserted the importance of the "front-man", the distinctive trait of rock
music.
The idea was pioneered in England by Liam Howlett's Prodigy with the hyperkinetic numbers of Experience (1992), the versatile and cosmopolitan Music For The Jilted Generation (1995) and the super-synthesis of The Fat Of The Land (1997), which ran the gamut from ambient to heavy-metal (albeit in a very superficial manner). The Prodigy became the first superstars of the rave culture. Howlett was the brain behind the act, but Keith Flint (the singer) attracted the tabloids. It was techno for the rock market.
Full bio.
(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
The Prodigy were, for a few months, among the most interesting British techno artists: they combined a violent beat and rock guitar (that is, a punk spirit) with the showmanship of two of the greatest performers of the 90s.
In the early 1990s, Liam Howlett, in cahoots with Keith Flint and Maxim Reality, invented the hyperkinetic mix of What Evil Lurks (1991) and especially Charly (1991), dance tracks that relied almost entirely on sheer energy, yet effectively created a genre of their own.
Experience (Elektra, 1992) is essentially an anthology of their early hits, with some filler. Jericho shows how the trio shifted toward a more comic style, in the vein of old instrumental novelty (mutatis mutandis): the tribal polyrhythms of electronic music, the circus of looped voices, and carefully distributed dissonances all serve as a bit of a parody of the genre. Equally amusing is Out Of Space, a spell cast for a squeaky voice that even descends into a lazy beach rap. Hyperspeed and Everybody In The Place return somewhat to their beginnings, with a frenetic disco beat that builds to its own climax.
There is little to say about the other tracks. Music Reach and Ruff In The Jungle Bizness draw on disco music stereotypes (the break that launches the disco diva, the DJ urging on in a hoarse voice). One of the most epic rides is Wind It Up, which chases a reggae-style ring-around-the-rosie refrain with the usual sequence of hard breaks and relaunches it with a driving piano loop.
Music For The Jilted Generation (XL, 1995) presents a more versatile and cosmopolitan artist, capable of blending Nirvana and soul in Voodoo People (with its most frenzied rhythm ever), and at the same time a more melancholic and mature artist (the sound of breaking glass in Break And Enter), able to delve into the social issues of his time. While No Good harks back to old disco music, Poison embraces hip hop. Elegant funk and jazz touches also embellish the darker ballads. Howlett returns to his adolescence as a rhythm monster only with the raw techno of The Heat and the epileptic charge of Full Throttle, which sounds like a western soundtrack played at breakneck speed. Only in a minor episode, the tropical fanfare of One Love, does Howlett recall the irony of the first album. The heavy metal riff in Their Law (one of the most powerful tracks) opens new horizons for his hunger for violence. Less convincing, however, is the progressive techno of the Narcotic Suite, in three movements, an attempt to recreate the intellectual musings of Yes or Genesis in a techno context. Liam Howlett has the merit of being able to fuse explosive energy with the sophistication of a craftsman.
After the singles Firestarter and Breathe, which had anticipated an increasingly brutal sound, Prodigy released the album The Fat Of The Land (XL, 1997), a manifesto album that essentially serves as a bridge between various fin-de-sicle genres, from ambient to heavy metal.
Firestarter, a rap delivered with punk fervor, and Breathe, with furious rap and a riff worthy of the Stooges, were the first singles. The demonic scratching of Smack My Bitch Up is enlivened by Indian timbres and chanting. The long collage of Narayan serves as a stylistic summa, alternating (somewhat arbitrarily) a soul song with tribal drumsnbass, a spacey Robert Milesstyle music box with a Tibetan litany. The aim of fusing hard rock, hip hop, and techno culminates, if anything, in the melodrama of Serial Thrilla. Perhaps it is no coincidence, however, that the best track on the album is an instrumental jam, Climbatize, played with an energy halfway between the Whos We Wont Get Fooled and a Scottish bagpipe band.
The albums greatest flaw is predictability: the hip hop chant of Diesel Power, the train techno of Funky Shit, and the novelty synth-pop of Mindfields are flawless, yet they merely rehash stereotypes.
While the Chemical Brothers do everything to surprise at every turn, Howlett performs the exact opposite: every second of music is utterly banal in its context. Prodigy gives the listener exactly what the listener expects. Banality has its merit, especially in the field of dance music, but all things considered, perhaps the early singles were more fun.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
Hell's Kitchen (XL, 2000) is Maxim's solo debut, centered around the
success of the hit single Carmen Queasy.
Prodigy returned with the (awful) single
Baby's Got A Temper (2002) and the full-length
Always Outnumbered Never Outgunned (Maverick, 2004),
de facto another Liam Howlett solo album with guests:
Oasis' vocalist Liam Gallagher
(Shoot Down),
rapper Twista (Get Up Get Off),
the Ping Pong Bitches (single Girls),
Princess Superstar (Memphis Bells),
and actress Juliette Lewis (the furious Spitfire, possibly the stand-out, and the Fifth Dimension's oldie Hotride).
Only a minority of the collaborations work.
Invaders Must Die (Cooking Vinyl, 2009) contains three intriguing ideas:
Omen
(merengue steps and industrial beat),
Colours
(a frenzied electronic timbric fanfare),
and the batucada Take Me To The Hospital.
On the other hand, Invaders Must Die boasts
loud distorted electronics (almost a Deep Purple riff) and massive drums.
The whole, however, mostly sounds terribly outdated and frivolous, with
Warrior's Dance evoking the classic rave atmosphere of 20 years
earlier.
Keith Flint, the voice of Firestarter and Breathe, died in 2019 at the age of 49.
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