The woman with the green hair poked her head into my dressing room and said, "Five minutes." I finished stretching, grabbed some white towels and my records, and headed downstairs. Two DJ setups flanked the sides of the stage. An androgynous bouncer pointed me toward the left setup with a Maglite. I carried my crate of vinyl to the turntables and began cueing up my first samples. I tried not to pay attention to my competition, Basement Jaxx. I was just here to make some crazy dance music and perhaps get some props. At moment later I glaced over, out of curiosity. I noticed two guys in Kappa sweats talking on pink cellphones... to each other.

"Are you ready to jack some bodies?" one of them said.

"Yes, let's jack some bodies for certain," the other replied.

I started feeling pretty confident about this competition. The guys looked like Ibiza coke dealers, not DJs. My first song was going to cut up some wack Mahavishnu Orchestra records with the "Goldfinger" soundtrack. "Billy Cobham beats mixed with John Barry orchestral blasts should be acceptable," I thought. But then, the audience tonight was a bit different. I noticed more hair gel, more hair dye, and lots of little "Hello My Name is" nametags with obscure names like Loki, Yleecia, Brinne, and Martini. These were record industry people! Who could tell what they'd feel or how they'd react? Basement Jaxx were blowing dramatic kisses to the crowd of industry people saying, "We are going to jack your body. For real."

A whistle blew. We were to begin. I began my set with the Mahavishnu Orchestra and John Barry, as planned. I cut up some drums off The Inner Mounting Flame and dropped in some bass hits and thick Bond- score samples. It wasn't the greatest moment in the history of music, but I kept the beat unpredictable and fast. The industry types scratched their chins, sipped their Red Bull n' Vodkas, and chatted to each other on candy- colored cellphones.

"Hmm, it's a bit too abstract."

"But how will it sound in 'Bebe?'"

"Kitsch. It needs more kitsch."

"I'm not hearing a single."

I finished spinning and let Basement Jaxx give it a shot. One of the guys pushed a button on a Roland 303. The other pumped his fist in the air chanting "Jack your body!" The first guy started triggering some porn samples. A woman moaned over a standard 4/4 beat and some whiny tea- kettle noises flew throughout. It was terribly uncreative. Soon the bass line shifted an octave and the one guy mummbled, "the rhythm/ the traxx/ the basement/ jaxx." I had this competition locked up! Seriously, this was the kind of stuff that was maybe "creative" (if just based on the fact that it was new) in Chicago in 1981, but electronic music has come so far since then. I decided to pull out my nail in the coffin-- a skittering track of japanese wind-up toys and tornado warnings cut with the baseline from Fugazi's "Waiting Room."

Basement Jaxx finished their overwhelmingly lengthy song. I smiled and dropped records onto my turntables and readied my samples. But the crowd payed no attention. A din of gossip rose throughout the room.

"His name is Simon, that sounds French! Are they French?"

"A lot like Daft Punk, but a different name!"

"Sex! Sex! It has Sex!"

"Man, this coke is really good."

"I can sell that to BMW tonight, babe."

"Mmm, I can't dance very well, this is my kind of music!"

"Wha? I wasn't paying attention."

Eventually the crowd quieted and I began my masterpiece. It was insane. It moved. It breathed. It changed tempos, styles, rhythms, keys, and samples. I came off sounding like a cross between Amon Tobin and Radiohead. I finished and looked up at the packed club, my body glistening with sweat. The crowd was huddled over in front of Basement Jaxx.

"We'd like you to become popular!"

"You really jacked my body!"

"I haven't heard anything like that since... I haven't heard anything!"

"I like porn!"

Basement Jaxx gave it another go. Or it could have been the first again. I don't know. It was all just rehashed house music. And it's certainly not gonna move you emotionally without the aid of illegal substances. Basement Jaxx are well aware of this intrinsic link between drugs and house music. All four of the songs they've played so far have ended with the suffix "-lude." This type of house music is more functional than emotional. It's a pulse, and not much else. Now that I knew what the crowd wanted, I was gonna jack their bodies.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," I said. "I'd like to announce that my next song will be a bit different. It'll be a flashback to the divas, drugs, and monotony of Chicago's Wharehouse, circa 1981. I'm now going to refer to myself as DJ Sweat N' Shake and this is my new song "Jack Yo Lap."

I pushed "start" on my drum machine. I let it endlessly throb out a 4/4 beat while I mixed in some samples from Swedish stripclubs of a girl asking, "Would you like a lapdance?" I grabbed the mic and yelled, "We gonna jack your lap! Jack your lap! Come on everybody and jack your lap!" The crowd got into it. They seemed to dig the rehash.

"This sounds just like that other stuff!"

"I love stuff I don't have to think about!"

"The kids will buy electronica if it has drug and sex references."

"I'm so jacked!"

I finished the song and hopped off the stage. Some A&R; and PR people came over to me. We chatted while Basement Jaxx continued. During their next set, Basement Jaxx mixed in some lite Latin elements. Of course, it was backed by the same 4/4 beat pounding mercilessly on a nearby dead horse. An A&R; guy leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"You know, they do Latin. That's really hot now. So hot."

"So?" I replied.

"Listen, Brent, we'd love to sign you but you have to understand some things: for one, you're not British. So, there goes that British mysticism. Two, they're on Astralwerks, which has name recognition from the Chemical Brothers getting airtime on MTV. People can recognize the Chemical Brothers. Third, they have a logo. Logos are key. Here's what I recommend doing: Keep up with the "Jack Yo Lap" thing. I can see it on a soundtrack after we blow up this Basement Jaxx thing. Also, get an image. Something we can put on the cover of The Face. I'm thinking a caesar cut, a pencil- thin mustache, and some Le Coque Sportif warm- ups. At least get a cell phone."

"So, let me get this straight. You're saying that Basement Jaxx is going to be the next big thing in dance music?"

"Well, when we're looking for dance music, we mean dance music. Stuff that secretaries can grind to. Like the macarena, but with pizazz. Plus, we already have obligations to promote other bands associated with Basement Jaxx, so we're kind of obligated. Also, everybody hears they're good. So they must be."

"Hmm... Have you even heard good drum-n-bass?"

"Sure! Ronnie Sized was great! Great video, babe!"

I sulked backstage. After gathering up my gear, I went into the back alley to load my shit back into the Honda. Blocking my way out of the alley was a windowless tour bus with "JAXX" painted in silver across the side. I sighed. Suddenly, a guy with a beard put his hand on my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me.

"Yo, Brent, chill out."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jesus. I came to check out the show. I've heard a lot about Basement Jaxx. I read about them in that free Delta magazine. Listen, why do you hate everything?"

"Jesus, that's not it at all! I love music! I have hundred of CDs. I'm trying to get the word out on original bands. I'm trying to promote originality and passion. Not organ bleeps and fashion."

"But you do hate Basement Jaxx."

"Well, not entirely. I just hate the hype. It seems predetermined that the Jaxx will be the next big thing whether we like it or not. I mean, as far as house music goes, Underworld's Beaucoup Fish is a far superior album and I find it sad that people have already abandoned it-- a mere four months later-- for a generic, creatively stunted band- of- the- week. Did you see Spin's "Top 90 Albums of the Decade" feature? Basement Jaxx ranked relatively high, while a classic like the Orb's Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld was totally ignored.

"People have short attention spans."

"But did you hear that music inside? True music lovers will not get into it. Electronic fans have come to expect more. Look at anything on Ninja Tune. Anything. It's all much more complex and interesting. The mad breaks and live drums of Animals on Wheels blow that shit away. Amon Tobin could bludgeon these guys to death with just five seconds of his crazed rhythmic fury. Look at Pork records, a great little label from England that continues to plug away in obscurity while Moby's Play dominates the clubs and the charts. And how about Warp? It's like comparing primitive, neaderthal stone carvings to the Sistine Chapel. At some point, people have to realize that music has progressed. I'm sure there are kids out there that think Basement Jaxx is great dance music, but the odds are, they don't know much about jungle."

"It's not fair to compare Basement Jaxx to jungle. They're house music."

"Exactly! And what has come out of house music since Deee-lite's 'Groove is in the Heart?'"

"Uh... Fatboy Slim."

"Close, but that's big beat. The difference there lies with Cook's old- school junkyard beats and sense of humor."

"Well, what about Oakenfold or Sasha and Digweed?"

"Doesn't count. They're some of the most revered DJs in England-- not because they create house music, but because they scrounge and dig deep to find the really good stuff. It'll be a sad day for dance music when they play Basement Jaxx. And if they do, I can assure you it will be based on a momentary lapse of common sense due to the overwhelming pressure on them to play the latest hype. House music can't evolve, Jesus. Once it does, it no longer fits into that category. I'm grateful that it existed in the '80s and gave birth to better music, but I do think it's a little inaccurate to say that it's going to change music and lives."

"I can see your point."

"That's comforting, but you have to. You're Jesus. Really, people are comparing this record to Dirty Mind- era Prince! No. Just no. I saw Prince last year in concert and the little horny pixie played five instruments expertly while simultaneously humping them. That's talent. Basement Jaxx have no lyrics. And don't try to tell me that "Yo Yo" with its refrain of-- you guessed it-- "Yo yo yo yo yo" is better than "Uptown," "Darling Nikki" or "The Cross." It's can't be, if just for the simple grammatical reasons. I'll bet Prince is rolling in his grave!"

"He's not dead."

"Really, what's he done recently?"

-Brent DiCrescenzo