by RAF KATIGBAK

Rewind to the early '90s, to a small town 30 minutes outside of Frankfurt, Germany, where a young Anthony Rother has started making electro music. Raised on a steady diet of Kraftwerk, Miami bass, John Carpenter and pop music, and surrounded by nothing but "horrible commercial discotheques," Rother's heavy bleeps and beats have a tough time finding an audience. His friends think he's a couple of wieners short of a schnitzel, so he heads for the big city. In Frankfurt he meets Johannes Heil and Heiko Laux from the then-burgeoning techno label Kanzleramt. He starts producing with them and his life is changed forever.

Fast-forward to the present. Rother has become one of the most consistent and sought-after electro producers in the world. He's given a production hand to techno legends Sven Väth and Dave Clarke. He's recorded some of the most melodic and interesting electro around under the names Family Lounge, Lord Sheper and Psi Performer, and his Little Computer People album has been deemed an electro synth-pop classic. His label Psi49Net repped purist electro and his new label Datapunk (set to launch this month) promises to take electro in a new, rougher direction. This weekend he's in Montreal to perform one of his legendary live sets at Elektra.

Mirror: You've got so many styles and aliases, it's hard to keep track.

Anthony Rother: Yes, but everything I do is cruising around this electro world. It's all different views on electro - to me, that's very important. Now I'm ready to release everything under my own name because I think people can accept that I'm doing different styles.

M: While your styles may vary, the main theme throughout your releases is an obsession with technology.

AR: I use machines to express feelings that come from humans. The problems are mostly human, explained from the view of the machine, the deepest emotions like love, hate and the fear of the future. It's also about man's place within technology.

M: Sounds very Matrix-y.

AR: It's funny, when I came out with Sex With Machines in '96, I was really into these sort of deep thoughts about man and machines and when I saw The Matrix in '97, it was like a vision that I had come to life. It really scared me, to the point where I had to go, okay, that's just Hollywood, and I got over it.

M: Sounds like a real bad trip. Speaking of bad trips, did you see any of the sequels?

AR: The second was too fast, too loud, too much. I bought the DVD and I can't watch past 20 minutes. It's like a land of coke.

M: So have you unplugged?

AR: Yes, I'm not so much connected anymore. Two years ago, if you asked me what I would bring to a desert island, I'd say, "Oh, I need this, I need this..." But now I'm just using machines. I love them in the moment, when I work with them, because in the moment they give me a feeling. Today I'm trained. I'm trained to go deep. When I started thinking about these things I'd go overboard. It somehow fucks up your brain. Now the technological world is more of a second home. I can work there and when I leave it I can go into real life. That's something I learned making this music.

With Headscan, Vromb, les Passagers and Euterke at Usine C on Saturday, Nov. 22, 9pm, $25

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