Rock And Electronic Team-Ups Nobody Saw Coming

At first glance, rock and electronic music — be it EDM, dubstep, techno, electronica, or any of the other terms used to describe it — would seem to be separate dimensions of musical expression. Rock music traffics in the immediate, visceral rush of the human touch, while electronic music often relies on samples, synthesizers, turntables, and programming to create digitized sonic realms. There's valid artistry in both approaches, but it seems safe to say that the dance hits that took over every club in the '80s and the forgotten hair bands that deserve another shot have largely different audiences.

With that in mind, we wanted to take a look at some of the times these wildly divergent tribes have co-mingled to great effect. Whether it's guitar legend Kirk Hammett going toe-to-toe with electronic duo Orbital for a comic book movie or prog rock pioneer Jon Anderson working with Tangerine Dream to help redo the soundtrack of a 1980s fantasy classic, there's some fascinating collaborations to explore.  

When dubstep emerged from the South London club scene in the early 2000s, its popularity was immediate and astronomical, but it was about the furthest thing imaginable from heavy metal, even the outside-the-box stylings of nu metal pioneers Korn. Thus, 2011's "Path of Totality" seems daring to say the least. Featuring dubstep and drum-and-bass heavyweights such as Skrillex, Noisia, and Kill the Noise, the album is a musical gamble that pays off.

What makes the album work is Korn's already highly unorthodox nature as a band. From the outset, guitarists James "Munky" Shaffer and Brian "Head" Welch (who does not appear on "Path of Totality") built the Korn sound around a conscious effort to defy traditional concepts of the instrument's role in a rock-band context. With an approach that focused less on technical skill than the instrument's overall textural presence, the guitars on Korn albums have always been so heavily processed through effects pedals and digital manipulation that Shaffer and Welch have come off more as guitar DJs than standard players.

With that in mind, the ultra-processed power chords of the track "Chaos Lives in Everything" comfortably accent Skrillex's hyperkinetic electronic mania rather than the guest artist vying for space among the ensemble's swaggering mainstays. What's most readily apparent — and admirable — is the band's willingness to let Skrillex and his dubstep colleagues dominate throughout the tracks. Giving them that space to showcase their ideas on a major release from one of the top bands in the world conveys the tremendous respect Korn has for dubstep as a genre and for their collaborators as artists.

New Line Cinema's 1997 film adaptation of Todd McFarlane's "Spawn" comic book was famously panned by critics and audiences alike. Whatever fate may have befallen the film as a whole, the soundtrack features some notably innovative guitar work from Metallica's Kirk Hammett in collaboration with English techno duo Orbital. While it might sound odd to pair two purveyors of fine '90s electronica with the man responsible for many of the epic guitar solos that defined the '80s, the end result is the remarkably coherent "Satan."

At the time, newly emergent technology and the diversity of the '90s music industry allowed electronica to make inroads into popular culture. Thus, it's Hammett's keen understanding of the cadences and tonal affects of his digitized counterparts that gives the track its appeal. He stays in his own lane with regards to his tone — just distorted guitar, whammy bar, and his so frequently employed wah-wah pedal. From that limited toolbox, he's able to sculpt parts that fit comfortably alongside the electronic elements in a coherent and integrated manner. Palm-muted chordal patterns share space with a dialogue between whammy bar phrases and unhinged synthesizer theatrics. Coupled with wah-pedal cadences that recreate the effect of DJ turntables, it's a fascinating exploration of the techno world by way of guitar.

There are plenty of rockers who went electronic before it was cool, but veteran instrumental guitar mastermind Joe Satriani saw the creative potential when the genre was breaking big. Satriani — who famously taught guitar to Steve Vai, Kirk Hammett, and even Larry Lalonde from Primus — had already dominated two decades' worth of guitar virtuosos with his own crossover appeal. Albums like "Surfing With the Alien" and "The Extremist" had proven that "Satch" could do top 40 numbers on the Billboard 200, a rare feat for any instrumentalist and all the more remarkable for the experimental twists and turns taken throughout his career.

One such out-of-left-field release (or left dimension, in Satriani's case) was 2000's "Engines of Creation," a bold foray into digital realms with shred-guitar virtuosity navigating a world of programmed digital instruments. A collaboration with arranger-engineer Eric Caudieux, the album is a daring step away from the traditional rock band underpinnings of Satriani's previous work. Tracks like "Devil's Slide" and "Borg Sex" find the guitarist emulating the wild squeaks, squawks, and arpeggiated stabs of electronica while still incorporating the exotic modal phrasing and fluid legato runs that endeared him to guitar aficionados the world over. It's a conceptual environment that Satriani occupies naturally, as he's always adopted science fiction imagery into his aesthetic. As such, the high-tech virtual realms explored on "Engines of Creation" feel right at home in his company.  

Filmmaking is full of strange production decisions, not the least of which was director Ridley Scott deciding that his 1985 film "Legend" needed separate soundtracks for the U.S. and international releases. To that end, he enlisted the German electronic ensemble Tangerine Dream to produce a darker and more modern score to Jerry Goldsmith's original after stateside test audiences found the film unserious. Which soundtrack better serves the film is certainly fodder for discussion among cinephiles, but Tangerine Dream's involvement did produce "Loved by the Sun," a majestic collaboration with Yes frontman Jon Anderson.

Anderson's delicate, pristine voice floats on top of Tangerine Dream's synthetic orchestrations, a ray of human light refracted in and out of the neo-classical electronica that surrounds him. It succeeds because it manages to capture the grandeur of the film's bucolic, high-fantasy world while still satisfying the synth-pop leanings of '80s popular culture. Anderson's vocal performance is what truly sells the piece, and his modulation into falsetto voice during the bridge is so high as to seem superhuman but he never gives evidence of strain. The rest of Tangerine Dream's score maintains that precise and intoxicating balance between orchestral structure and synthetic modernism, but it's Anderson's angelic visitation that gives the soundtrack its signature moment. 

With 1997's "Bridges to Babylon," the Rolling Stones were going hard on their commitment to remaining relevant and contemporary. To that end, the album features an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink assortment of late-'90s auditory aesthetics, and it was only right that they dip their toes in the techno waters as well. Enter the Dust Brothers and the deep cut "Might as Well Get Juiced."

Where some guitarists might try emulating the effects of DJ turntables and synthesizer tone wheels, Keith Richards and company make no pretensions of matching the new sound. Instead, a standard Stones-style mojo blues track is remixed by high-tech impresarios and given a slick veneer of late-'90s techno ambiance. Charlie Watts' wide and open drum groove is brought center stage, and Mick Jagger's vocals are run through a wall of compressed distortion. Ironically, it almost sounds more like the Led Zeppelin of yesteryear doing "When the Levee Breaks" than anything contemporary to the time period.

Overall, the track does sound a little try-hard, but that's actually kind of why it works. The late '90s played a crucial role in shaping techno music as we know it today, but it was still a period when rock, pop, and other mainstream genres were in a state of flux. Nirvana had defined the first half of the decade, and a madcap rush to find the next big thing had defined the second. As such, the Stones trying a little bit of everything makes the whole of "Bridges to Babylon" an apt summary of the time period in which it was released. "Might as Well Get Juiced" stands as the surrealistic foray into electronica in a wonderland of late-'90s variety.