The influence of jazz on recent electronic music is often overstated. Some folks, for example, describe Red Snapper as "jazzy." Why? Because they have a standup bass player. So did the Stray Cats, my friends, and Lee Rocker has more in common with Charles Nelson Reilly than he does Charles Mingus. As L.L. Cool J said when contemplating a move out to Cali, "I don't think so."

Then you have Amon Tobin. Brilliant man, definitely. The way he incorporates the sound of jazz instrumentation into his tracks is consistently inventive, and with apologies to Josh Davis, I'd call Tobin the real Jimi Hendrix of the sampler. But again, his music seems to me worlds away from the genuine article, as I'm sure he would agree. Perhaps jazz depends on either the interaction between musicians or real-time improvisation. This would mean that one man sitting in front of his computer couldn't make jazz.

But what about two guys in front of a computer? Atom Heart and Burnt Friedman, two Germans working together under the name Flanger, make a convincing argument for cut-and-paste jazz. A casual listen to Midnight Sound could mislead you to the conclusion that it was recorded live in 1969, with Joe Zawinul on electric piano, Milt Jackson on vibes, Percy Heath on bass, and Joe Morello on drums. But upon closer inspection, there's something very unsettling afoot. Vinyl crackle appears out of nowhere mid-song, only to vanish 25 seconds later. The drums get stuck in a digital roll, apparent casualties of a botched Csound operator. The instruments sound like they were recorded at different studios and in different eras. And occasionally, it all breaks down into abstract low-volume noise.

It's a bit jarring to hear the voice of the computer in this ostensibly acoustic context. Further adding to the confusion, Flanger boldly present a wholly sincere reading of the rarely covered Miles Davis classic, "So What." Same opening bass motif, with Bill Evans' piano replicated on vibraphone. There are wispy brushes on cymbals, and some Latin percussion fluttering in the background. And when it breaks into the immortal choruses and the soloing begins, the vibes even sound improvised, tapping out some sharp counterpoint to the familiar piano vamp. It sounds like the whole band is there to me. Is it live or is it Flanger?

This disorienting feel of Midnight Sound makes sense when you consider the men behind the curtain. Atom Heart last made the scene as Señor Coconut, a fictional Latino bandleader with a fondness for Kraftwerk covers. That project was likely conceived and executed on Atom's computer. He may have actually played the vibraphone and keyboards (he's also credited with those instruments here), but only to sample the sounds and feed them into his sequencer. Burnt Friedman's past projects have also toyed with the idea of "real" bands. Who knows how many people are actually involved in the tripped-out glitch reggae he makes while allegedly fronting the Nu Dub Players? And Con Ritmo, his most recent solo release, alludes to live jam sessions with what is surely a fictitious group.

All this conceptual tomfoolery could be kept separate from the actual music on Midnight Sound, but then we'd be ignoring the best part of the package. Considered apart from its "angle," Midnight Sound is pleasant, but ultimately mediocre mood music-- light, tasteful cocktail jazz with dollops of digital processing. It's nice enough in the background, sufficiently complex to keep your interest, but not obtrusive in the least. And a concentrated listen offers certain rewards, revealing the sometimes subtle, sometimes glaring, and always carefully calculated digital stitching that binds this pseudo-acoustic music. No matter how you slice it, though, nothing about Midnight Sound says "great."

-Mark Richard-San