One of the most amusing parts of next-level, forward-thinking electronic music is how eerily similar it seems to the most soulless and derivative sectors of social life. In some ways, cutting-edge music encourages and constitutes the new ideas that eventually blossom into new ways of living. In others, though, it would be difficult to distinguish the arrangements and mentalities of progressive electronic music culture from those “evolving” at a Hot Topic-sponsored lecture series featuring Kathy Griffin, Kevin Federline, and Vincent Gallo, with keynote address by Bono and a closing haiku by Ashton Kutcher,
Take fame and status for example. The mainstream popular culture pantheon very often features people whose fame is absurdly inexplicable. Beyond annoying people who are in the public eye, I mean people who aren’t famous for doing anything valuable or even remarkable; they’re just famous. Somehow, through no amount of talent, charm, or contribution of any kind, people like Paris Hilton, Ryan Seacrest, and Simon Cowell matter to the American public. No one knows why, but the cultural chorus just echoes, “Here they are—household names. Remember these.”
In some ways, electronic music that defies the generic, thoughtless, stale culture from which Ryan Seacrest derives his vapid powers (and swimming pool of gold dubloons) is fueled by the same arrangements that make Paris Hilton cool. How is it, for example, that Baltimore DJ Joe Nice has turned himself into the most important person in stateside dubstep?
He’s not a producer, he’s not a journalist, and he doesn’t have a label, and yet he is, bar-none, the most influential American in dubstep. For almost five years he has irrefutably been the US’s ultimate arbiter of England’s newest musical export. He has first dibs on the coolest, newest records in the world and a VIP pass to virtually any club with a good enough soundsystem to handle his decimating sub-bass sounds, and all he does is play other people’s music. Kind of similar to Paris Hilton, right? Seems weird, right?
Well, no. For one thing, Joe Nice is the smoothest, classiest, nicest person on the planet, while Paris Hilton is a whoring dog. But more importantly, Joe Nice’s rise to fame is due in large part to an unbelievably refined ear, impeccable skills as a DJ, and a fierce passion for the music matched only by my contempt for Hugh Grant. The difference, essentially, between perplexingly relevant members of the popular culture canon and taste-making future-music kingpins like Joe Nice and British counterpart Mary Anne Hobbes is that while Paris Hilton can make a B-rate porno, Joe Nice can put on an explosive, rattling, indescribable show like the one in Portland this late Saturday night.
I think I could see Joe Nice spin records with the sound off. He has so much charisma onstage and he’s so meticulous about how he handles his records—how clean they are, how gently he returns them to his crate—that its almost inspiring to simply observe a musician that passionate about what he or she is doing.
That said, the music was jaw-dropping. Berbati’s Pan doesn’t have the best bass in the world, but it was adequate to deliver the synthy wonk of Joker’s “Digidesign” and the crushing, Rick Rubin-sampling wobble of Jakes’ “Rock Tha Bells” with sufficient force. Effortlessly mixing an array of distinct cuts from across the genre—many of them brand new and unreleased—Joe Nice showed off the skill, knowledge, and influence that make him a crucial figure in dubstep worldwide. On paper, it may not seem like he does much, but his set of skills prime him to shape and share some of the most exciting music in the world, a feat that, as far as I’m concerned, is more than worthy of celebrity status.
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