Fire charter

Prodigy seize the moment

by Matt Ashare

Ever since the dance crazes of the '50s, singles-driven dance pop (the stroll, the twist, the hustle) has primarily been about the appearance of getting there first, defining the sound of the moment, and cashing in with a track that captures the thrill of the here and now. That's something Liam Howlett, the techno-wiz mastermind behind the British electronica outfit Prodigy, knows well. And that's why two tracks -- "Firestarter" and "Breathe" -- from Prodigy's new album, The Fat of the Land (Maverick), were bona fide hit singles long before the disc hit the street July 1 and debuted at the top of the Billboard album chart. (It's actually been more than a year since "Firestarter" topped the British charts, and seven months since "Breathe" was certified platinum.) Up to this point in his career -- which has been more or less built on the foundation he laid down with "Charly," a single that became a soundtrack for the British rave scene in the summer of '91 -- Howlett has survived in a world where artists either break new sounds or are broken by them.

So the real challenge for Howlett and the colorful cast of characters that round out Prodigy -- septum-pierced punk mascot Keith "The Firestarter" Flint, kilt-wearing MC Maxim Reality, and lanky dancer Leeroy Thornhill -- is not to spearhead an electronica invasion in the guitarcentric USA with The Fat of the Land but to bridge the formidable gap between the dance clubs and the album-oriented-rock charts. In fact, just last week Howlett explained to an MTV audience that he doesn't even particularly care for techno or electronica anymore. It's no longer his bag. And despite what you may have gathered from watching Flint and Maxim striking poses in the "Firestarter" video, or Thornhill mugging for the camera in live shots, Howlett is Prodigy, plain and simple. Decisions about where to take the band musically are all in his hands. (Fact: Breeder Kim Deal, who is not now and never has been a member of Prodigy, has exactly the same number of song credits as Thornhill on The Fat of the Land -- her tune "S.O.S." is sampled so heavily on "Firestarter" that Howlett gave her a co-writing credit.)

Howlett may have been trying to generate controversy with the anti-techno comment -- The Fat of the Land is an electronic-pop disc through and through, not a guitar-rock excursion in the vein of Moby's latest. Or maybe he's simply realized that, in contrast to the ever-mutating dance scene, being far ahead of the curve in the rock world (à la seminal groups like the Velvet Underground, Can, and even Brian Eno the solo artist) is rarely a recipe for commercial success. In that sense, it was important to beat the Chemical Brothers' "Setting Sun" to the dance charts with "Firestarter." But it's to Prodigy's benefit that the Chemical Brothers' album Dig Your Own Hole has been out there for two and a half months, seeding the clouds for the potential reign of The Fat of the Land.

"This is dangerous/Open your head and feel the shellshock," Maxim raps menacingly against a bubbling stream of synth lines and electrobeats on "Mindfields," one of only two tracks on the new disc that feature him on lead. Nothing about the brisk mix feels particularly perilous -- and when it comes to lyrics, Maxim and Flint aren't given to wading far from the shallow end. Maxim's other moment in the spotlight, the disc opener "Smack My Bitch Up," is also pretty harmless once you get past the title. (When the band played it in Boston recently, I thought Maxim was shouting "Snap my picture," and I still think the fashion-pose angle works better with the tune's hopped-up disco beat.) But with all the hoopla that's surrounded the Lollapalooza-bound Prodigy and their multi-million-dollar deal with Madonna's Maverick label, there is the looming danger that The Fat of the Land won't live up to the hype.

When you cut through the cast of characters whose voices are grafted to individual tunes -- Flint on "Firestarter" and the similarly punkish "Fuel My Fire," Kula Shaker's Crispian Mills on the tantric "Narayan," and Kool Keith a/k/a Dr. Octagon showing everyone else up with his bristling delivery of "Diesel Power" -- the ultimate responsibility for the success of a Prodigy studio effort falls squarely on Howlett's shoulders. So with all those voices taking cameos, it makes sense to think of Howlett as a producer/auteur -- a '90s Giorgio Moroder creating state-of-the-art dance grooves for the masses.

Howlett succeeds by keeping his mix Moroder sleek and streamlined, though he replaces Donna Summer's playful sex with the equally playful aggression of Flint and Maxim. The result pushes all the right buttons, offering punk sneers, hip-hop boasts, and techno-color collages (the "Theme from S.W.A.T." bumping rumps with the B-Boys' "2-3 Break") over the kind of sturdy breakbeat loops that keep the rave kids out all night. It may not be a landmark in the way that, say, Nevermind was. But only because it's too of-the-moment. And that's something Howlett knows better than to worry about.