"MSTRKRFT - They're Safer Than Bees" by William Oliver Hart

We sent our good friend Will over to witness some lasers last week, and here is what he had to say.

There's plenty of things that want to kill you in 2008; terrorists, bored children, bees, the Chipotle Chicken Ciabatta sandwich at Jack-N-The-Box, that Black Hole Machine thing in Switzerland. MSTRKRFT don't want to kill you though. Thus begins my first blog for Mezzanine, entitled "MSTRKRFT - They're Safer Than Bees." I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this on the back of a paper plate at Fuddrucker's and giving it to my girlfriend to transcribe.

Seeing that I quit my job, I saw MSTRKRFT mid-week. Really, what else am I gonna do with my free time? Get kicked out of the library some more? Please. Annnyways, the two opening DJs, Congorock and Felix Cartel, both subscribed to the same vague aesthetic of EVERY SOUND EVAR (car alarms, sirens, the cries of hungry babies) that has the potential to be the crux of some hardcore booty-quaking dance anthem. This, like anything else cool, kind of requires a sort of Kirkegaardian leap of faith to appreciate.

When MSTRKRFT hit the stage around midnight-ish, it was totally satanic panic. Do you think you like lasers? MSTRKRFT like lasers at least 5,000 times more than you. MSTRKRFT sounds like lasers. Okay, imagine Xanadu plus rave-action, divided by American Apparel, times epilepsy, and you might have an idea what the MSTRKRFT experience entails. Let's just say I'm pretty sure that the people that decided not to gorge themselves on Dimethyltryptamine before the show felt pretty solid about their decision. It could've been a bad scene. Not surprisingly, these brosephs' mastery of iconography probably rivals their oft-cited peers Justice, but it's not exactly surprising, seeing that a KRFTR himself, Jesse Keeler, cut his teeth with Death From Above 1979, a short-lived band whose music is wholly forgettable but whose striking elephant-schnoz imagery from their first CD is forever burned into my brain. Oh, and I think they had some sort of semi-epic beef with DFA stalwart Jamie Stewart 3 years ago. I remember thinking, "This could be a dance-punk Jay-Z versus Nas." But alas, no cool dis songs were produced. We all lost.

Wait - what was I talking about? Ah, right.

There is a sort of hamfisted horror show schlock to MSTRKRFT's presentation, from the Jason mask imagery to the blatantly metal (re: verging on illegible) font that proudly adorns a grip of their new merch. Their face-melting brand of electro strum und drang is offset perfectly by videos of explosions, fire, guns, and boobs, a display that is artsier than I'm letting on, and that I can assure you is supposed to be postmodern. But like their music, it works just as well (if not better) on a very superficial level: it's all icing, all the time. Subtlety is cruel mistress. These guys probably get super pissed when they're bored. I've never heard MSTRKRFT outside of a live setting, and I can't help to feel that you'd be missing the point if you just listened to them otherwise. Omygaw, I just noticed we have a Pitchfork link. Seriously, guys?