“I’ve had multiple anxiety attacks on stage this year, and it was always related to feeling like a fraud,” electronic music producer Porter Robinson tweeted earlier this year. The comment came during a multi-tweet outburst about his debut album and the state of electronic dance music (EDM), of which he is one of the biggest stars. Since then, he’s made plenty of comments about how the predictable functionality of EDM had begun to leave him cold and that with his album “Worlds” he would be making music without DJs in mind.
“Worlds” is Robinson’s exploration of “hugeness and gorgeousness and vastness and beauty,” and its lush video-game electronica is certainly more pleasant and gentler than his early knucklehead electro anthems. Rather than the chainsaw dubstep of his patron Skrillex and his EDM contemporaries, it seems more inspired by the synthesizer epics of scene progenitors Daft Punk and Justice, M83’s orchestral tendencies and the Postal Service’s emo-friendly melodies.
Robinson brought “Worlds” to a sold-out 9:30 Club on Monday night, where it was clear that the young talent has refashioned EDM in his own image. The tempos, rhythms and crescendos of the music and the sensory overload of the show’s visual onslaught — blinding LED lights, columns of smoke, streamer explosions — are still very EDM but through a prism of Robinson’s personal interests.
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He has tweeted that the album “is literally about the ability of our minds to create and imagine fictional places” and with his live show, he’s done just that. Robinson is a self-described Japanophile, and his live show feels like his Tumblr come to life: a tapestry of anime and role-playing games, three-dimensional landscapes and 8-bit emoji graphics, with a premium on kawaii — the “cuteness” of Japanese culture. And while neither Robinson nor his fans seem too concerned about appropriation, the branded surgical masks at the merch table might be a bridge too far.
Yet while the music — a mix of originals, remixes and edits of old tracks — still fits the definition of EDM, the experience was not quite the bonkers frenzy for which the genre is known. From behind a plexiglass sprawl, Robinson sang and played live (or as live as an electronic show can be) with a laptop, an array of keyboards and electronic drum triggers. Each song stood alone; it wasn’t the seamless, non-stop party of a traditional DJ set. Decked out in collegiate casual rather than raver chic, the young crowd didn’t seem to mind, singing along and pumping their fists — although it was tough to really dance amid the communal mass.
“You guys know this record better than anyone,” Robinson assured the crowd before his one-song encore. “I love you guys.” Judging by the crowd’s reaction, the feeling was mutual.
Kelly is a freelance writer.
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