Well, it's official: electronic music is taking over. Hide your daughters and old Paul Simon tapes, because no one will be spared. You thought Wendy Carlos was a joke? Oh no, she/he was only the beginning. And it gets worse. You see, it turns out that this is one revolution that, no matter how seemingly intimidating and complicated (let's face it, the Borg are most likely listening to Autechre), is probably for the best. The more I delve into new music, the more I find it contaminated by the all-assimilating force that is electronic music production. Older artists are stepping over their fanbase to work with techno producers, while the young ones are throwing away subscriptions to CMJ for old Beatfreakery rags. The good and bad news: most of the stuff sounds no worse than your average zeitgeistmusik.

And there are a thousand stories in this revolution: David Bowie outdoes Trent Reznor in the late 90s, and I realize why that isn't such a great deal; scores of bands rip off Can and Cluster and call it "post-rock," wondering why Stereolab fans think they're boring (Stereolab fans!), and some end up pretty decent. To me, though, the coolest stories are the ones that end up like Rotoscope.

Norwegian composer Andreas Mjøs formed the electro-acoustic outfit Rotoscope in autumn 1999. With an eye towards Warp and Ninja Tune, he started the band in an attempt to reconcile the purely electronic music played in clubs with modern experimental music, all with the idea of playing live. The band features musicians from all walks of arty life: classical composers, jazz players, pop singers, orchestral musicians-- it's a something of a brainstorming session for the tuned-in and overachieving. And they sound neat, too.

Great Curves is the band's first album, though for the most part, it sounds as if these guys (and one gal) are old pros at putting stuff to DAT. All of the tunes are messed with, mostly on the production end, as the band and co-producer Jørgen Træen seem to have an inexhaustible array of effects, loops and otherwise unnatural doings transpiring. Some people call this stuff IDM (an inadequate description at best) or electronica (a stupid term altogether), but there are too many roots in traditional sounds and structures here to give all the credit to machines.

"Press Stop" begins things with a bang and a glitch, as percussion and wailing saxophone are cut up beyond repair, put through who knows what number of computer-generated filters and patches. It's quite short, but it most certainly sends the right signals: this isn't going to be your average jazz-informed indie statement. "All That You Owned (Remix)," something of a skittish, distracted ballad, is the first tune to feature the childlike vocals of Christine Sandtorv. Distant, sometimes-backwards piano, record-scratch atmospherics, and a bassline that only occasionally makes itself at home in the proceedings peep in and out in no discernable order, turning what could have been a simple tune into the most complicated two-minute "song" I've heard in a while.

"The Bogota Sub" is born out of the distortions of the previous tune, and quickly launches into more glitches and computer-chaos. However, the unmistakable feel of acoustic percussion and horns are all over this track (and the rest of the album), and despite the fact that actual humans could probably never play this way live, the tune isn't far from some kind of future jazz groove I imagine would sound great while overdosing on two or three media of your choice. Try, the soundtrack to watching three television sets at once, two of which are broadcasting the end of 2001, and the other Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi.

"Cooks Whip, Music Goes On" makes a jazz noise or two, especially via Lars Horntveth's ultra-suede tenor playing during the solo break in the middle. Real drums drop some real groove, vibraphones vibe, and for the most part, I find it very easy to label this "modern jazz." But labels suck, so I'll stick with "stuff that sounds like jazz, if it were made be people listening to new music-- and by new music, I don't mean the new Lenny Kravitz" music.

Other tunes are much closer to the purely electronic realm, such as "Watercooler" or the Talking Heads-referencing "Divide and Dissolve." These tunes may have had roots in acoustic/live performance, but are subject to so much post-production that they could probably pass as straight IDM in most quarters. The former is a brief display of reverb-laden drum machine blips and bangs, with a by-now familiar (in electronic music, anyway) disorienting, distorted glitch presence. The latter is a lengthier percussive exhibition, steering closer to jungle theory (as defined by new Boredoms, not Goldie) than post-everything sensory overload. After a restrained intro, things get rather out of hand, what with all the hurricane toms and rocket ship engine thrust noises. I'd say it was all too much, except it's such great stuff.

Great Curves ends with the epic "Traveller," which brings vocalist Sandtorv back into the mix, and excludes almost everything computer-generated. Hypnotic keyboard motive aside, this is a fairly addictive song. Sandtorv's singing could be a potential source of annoyance, particularly for anyone who isn't down with girly-girl vocalizing, but it seems to fit well here. In any case, her section of the tune ends quickly, leading to an instrumental vamp with layers and layers of Horntveth's woodwinds and some nice acoustic guitar. It reminds me a little of the last tune from Idiology, but these guys play soulful where Mouse on Mars was cinematic, and assured where the German duo was innocent and playful. An intriguing finale to a release with that's almost always at odds with what a band given their instrumentation should sound like. Recommended.

-Dominique Leone, December 11th, 2001