Fischerspooner is not something enjoyed in moderation. Just watch their stage show -- a synchronized sensory overload of throbbing keyboards, feathered dancers and flashing lights that looks and sounds like the court at Versailles visiting Burning Man -- and try to take it in small, measured doses. Just try to avert your eyes from frontman Casey Spooner. Corralling the audience with his gaze, he has more cajones than the Rat Pack and more attitude than a diva (with a few more costume changes thrown in for good measure). It's clear as soon as the first track is cued; this is an orgy of entertainment. Don't get squeamish.
Of course, as with many artists working on a grand scale, there is going to be a little misunderstanding. Despite loads of critical acclaim, some see New York's Fischerspooner as just another disposable piece of electrotrash, a funny prank more parts kitsch than class. Though it may not be readily apparent during their performances (especially the part with Spooner sporting a thong), Fischerspooner has a serious side tucked away beneath the glamour. As they tour the nation this fall and prepare to release their sophomore album, it should become apparent that this band is more than a sideshow. They don't just make pop music; they examine pop culture. Or, as Spooner explains, "we're an independent pop think tank."
Fischerspooner began as a creative collaboration between Casey Spooner and Warren Fischer, who met when both attended the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the early '90s. Spooner, a performance artist interested in video production, found a lot in common with Fischer, an experimental music fan who had collaborated with avant-garde rocker Jim O'Rourke.
"We sort of shared a similar point of view, primarily that we didn't agree with anybody," says Spooner. "It was a lame moment dominated by political correctness, and we wanted to create something that wasn't just home videos of people talking about each other."
Despite similar attitudes, the duo didn't really collaborate until after college, when they reunited in 1998 in New York. Spooner, searching for help on a film project, enlisted his old friend Fischer. Though their collaboration didn't work out as planned -- the film was a bust -- both of them loved the digital soundtrack Fischer had composed and decided to keep playing with it. Eventually, the duo recycled the music into "Indian Cab Driver", a song about back seat sexual advances set to Third World pop music.
"I have a crazy combo of interests," says Casey, "and I didn't know how to combine them. The fact that we stumbled on this was just great."
Performed live for the first time at an East Village Starbucks, their riotous debut of "Indian Cab Driver" was a preview of things to come. Spooner turned the coffeehouse into a catwalk, striking exaggerated poses, while Fischer cued up the tracks on a nearby CD player in full view of the audience. Fischerspooner had formed.
Soon the group was playing out all over New York and becoming a smash hit in New York art circles, with a reputation for decadent, constantly changing performances fueling the buzz. They hit churches, galleries, even a restaurant at the World Trade Center and kept topping themselves; at one show, the group performed inside an elevated, custom-built glass box that sucked up enough juice to blow out the building's circuits. All the while, they kept writing scores of new songs and independently releasing their dark, synth-driven pop music. It was, according to Spooner, an experiment in seeing how well they could infiltrate pop culture.
It was during their initial run around New York galleries that Fischerspooner dropped "Emerge", their first proper single. It turned out to be a groundbreaking track, leading NME to praise the group as "the best thing to happen to music since electricity." However, Spooner's tongue-in-cheek singing and Warren's glammed-out electronic beats on "Emerge" weren't just the formula for a dance floor smash; it's also their mission statement set to music.
"When we came up with the track, I just loved the idea of performing the statement instead of letting it sit on a page," says Spooner. Ironically written for an upcoming show in a museum, "Emerge" reflects the band's goal of both celebrating and spoofing culture.
"It's partly the idea of not being afraid of indulging in simple thing," says Spooner. "We wanted to do something that was timeless and universal."
These external, timeless ideas -- sounding, looking, and feeling good -- form the refrain of the piece. When integrated with live dancers, where ritualistic dancing and almost-tribal rhythms form the backdrop of the lyrics, it's easy to see why Spooner readily admits they aren't really dealing with anything new, just looking at it in a new light.
"People are constantly fixated on this idea of the new," says Spooner. "It's not bad if something isn't new. Group catharsis, the ritualistic experience of music . . . I mean, that makes us sound like Burning Man, and we certainly aren't that tribal-tastic. But when you think about it, Brittany is that same sort of thing. In a thousand years, there will be something just like that."
The song caught the ear of fans and critics, and soon could be found at more nightclubs than the Hilton sisters. Despite having a stage show that prohibited them from large-scale touring, they still attracted worldwide attention. Fans kept clicking on the group's website and trading songs, spreading the Fischerspooner gospel to locations as distant as Brazil and the Canary Islands.
"People love the mythology of the project," says Spooner. "Some people ask us if our music will fly in Middle America, and I say that's not the point. We get emails from Latvia, for god's sake."
Soon, a stage at Starbucks just wouldn't cut it. DJ Hell, impressed with a white label copy of "Emerge", personally invited them to perform at Berlin's Love Parade in 2000. They released their debut album, #1, in England to an enthusiastic press. David Bowie invited them to play at the Meltdown Festival in London, where Spooner spanked a heckler onstage in front of a gleeful Boy George. Kylie Minogue invited Spooner to perform her song "Come Into My World" on the show Top of the Pops, a duet so sultry that it was tabloid fodder for weeks in England. They were worldwide, and despite making the media froth at the mouth everywhere they went, Fischerspooner never let the attention go to their heads.
"With press and publicity, we just have fun," says Spooner. "This is our fantasy of what pop culture should be. Are you going to get the truth from the media? Probably not. And we don't really care about the truth."
By 2003, the group was certifiably white-hot. They had signed to Capitol Records to release #1 in the United States and embarked on their first U.S. tour. In typical fashion, it was a bit outrageous; a 12-passenger bus took 17 dancers, performers and crewmembers cross-country.
"We wore the same thing everyday, we didn't bathe," says Spooner. "I totally understand the rock 'n' roll aesthetic...I lived on adrenaline."
The tour found the group challenging themselves with a new motif. The spring performances were all stars and stripes, examining the American flag and its iconic status.
"I thought it was weird how pro-war rallies had this insanely prominent pro-flag motif, yet the dumb protestors weren't using the flag to symbolize democracy and questioning government," Spooner says, "even though it's such an American ideal. People automatically assumed that pro-military was pro-American; I wanted to counter that."
Though he wasn't advancing a political agenda, many people took the new incarnation of the group's performances a little too personally.
"I was doing a whole look, instilling the flag, taking the flag back," says Spooner. "It was amazing how many people were annoyed by that."
Now, at the beginning of a new fall tour, the group promises to be just as provocative, taking aim at one of the oldest phenomena in American pop culture.
"Now I'm on this white hip-hop thing," says Spooner. "It's not about the whole wigger thing . . . it's about how black culture is constantly co-opted by white culture, about people like Eminem, who're doing something that has nothing to do with them."
With typical flair, Spooner plans on decking himself out this time around. It's won't be cheesy or lame, just the consummate performer decked out in a toreador-like sneaker suit. Having just returned from a series of festival performances in Holland and Belgium, where the audience was insanely large, it looks like this tour should raise the bar yet again. It also appears that fans are looking past the glitz and glamour and appreciating the true dimensions of Fischerspooner's work.
"Our work can be inane and vapid if you read it one way, but on the other hand, we're exploring eternal themes," says Spooner. "We're just trying to build and construct culture instead of knocking it down."
— 21 October 2003
