I don't feel that I've been part of a musical "scene" for a long time now, a good five years, likely (and this hasn't changed, that's not where this is going). The problem is twofold. One, with time, any scene gets to be so damn big that either I don't have the time to follow everything in it, or I find myself not liking an appreciable fraction of the music within it. Two, my range of musical interests has grown so much over the years that I no longer have the desire to concentrate most of my energies on one particular type of music. Thus, it's all boiled down to two things: good music and bad music. Techno, for one, is so complicated, with everyone in the business running record label(s), each one for a different set of ideas, DJs coming to town all the time, a CRIPPLING number of new releases every week, etc. You see, many techno artists have home built studios, thus, they can crank out new tracks on their own time without having to suck major label corporate dick to get company money behind $100 000 of studio time and subsequent album promotion (not that there's anything wrong with that). I have very little will for keeping up with all these activities, I'm much happier walking into a store, grabbing a bunch of interesting looking vinyl, listening to it, and buying my favourites.

Under the canopy of "stuff I like" are the musics presented at MUTEK, in Montreal, which is where I am right now. Minimal, bleeps, blips, "clicks and cuts" (ugh), whatever it is, I like it. I have no yen to get in touch with the newest digital trends or label launches. I just want to spend a weekend in a city listening to wicked techno. That's enough for me.

Yesterday, I visited Ex-Centris, home to the first two nights of MUTEK, to pick up tickets that I had reserved (for this coming weekend). At the risk of coming across as elitist, I expected MUTEK to draw a more "intelligent" breed of fan compared to the powder-sucking go-go dancers that Toronto City Council seems to worry about. Well, I got what I expected, all right. Ex-Centris looks like a Greek temple decorated by the hand of European sleekness. Huge columns flank the outside. Upon entering, you immediately notice the purple glow of the neon lights in the darkened cocktail lounge to the right. I walk up to a tellers face just inside the entrance. That's right, just her face, on a round video screen on an otherwise black, opaque wall. The head says that I can pick up my tickets from the media table inside.

Inside, the scene resembles a crowd gathered for a university lecture or an art exhibit. Young bohemian types mix with White Men in Suits in a large softly-lit atrium. An impressive scene in the sense that it shatters all preconceptions about "rave culture" by practically outclassing the upper class. I don't even know if everyone was there for the same purpose (probably not) but the fact that techno fans seamlessly were mingling in a setting more reminiscent of a museum opening than a rave was damn cool. The whole scene was 100 times more swank than I would have expected. I pick up my ticket and slide to the adjacent table to grab a MUTEK t-shirt and CD (featuring tracks from the artist performing here). A patron and the woman behind the counter were talking techno (en francais). He was inquiring about the other CDs on sale and what they sounded like. The talk turns to Goem, and I try and help out by sharing my knowledge of Goem's music (en anglais, on ne veut pas m'ecouter, quand je parle francais, j'ai oublie presque tout la langue).

Later that night, I went to the Society of Arts and Technology building (SAT) for a nightcap. I'd visited SAT earlier in the day, and again, I was struck by the whole museum aspect of it. Temporary bars were set up in the corners, while a mass of electronics, belonging to that day's Happy Hour performers, occupied a side of the room. The electronics table was set up in front of about a dozen, small, round cocktail tables, with trendily dressed twenty-somethings sitting at them making polite conversation. Toward the rear of the building, partially obscured by a big black curtain, was a larger area, presumably the dance floor for the main performances. Grey floors, black curtains, not much else -- a minimalist indoor cafe.

Oh yes, the music. Mike Shannon worked a seamless two-hour set on the decks, jumping constantly among his three decks, fingers always busy, something like Spiderman, if he had spun house and techno. For part of his set, I sat at a candle-lit cocktail table and read, in one of the digital culture mags that they were giving away, about how digital video is causing a stir in Hollywood. Oddly similar to the analog v. digital, vinyl v. CD argument. Of course, I also danced, but being a bit tired from walking around Montreal all day, spent some time sitting on one of the many person-sized, shin-level cushioned platforms that were scattered throughout the room. I particularly enjoyed sitting behind the performing platform, away from much of the crowd, where I could relax and watch the performers work either in the flesh or on one of the two giant video screens on either side of the stage. Then, there was a live performance by Chilean duo Ric y Martin. Their stripped-down locked grooves were doing it for me, although I'm not sure I could say the same about most of the rest in attendance (at least for those were dancing, who seemed to be searching for a few more quirks and breaks in the rhythms). This may or may not bode well for the rest of the festival, particularly the Kompakt showcase.

Nothing sensational last night, but certainly solid. Bring on the label showcases.