MUTEK Day Three. The last discussion panel of the week attempts to address nothing less than the question of what electronic music is and where it is headed. This is such a ridiculously complex and involved piece of subject matter, and with the brainpower in attendance today, the discussion could have easily gone on for the entire week. That is no exaggeration. The entire discussion demonstrated that the question of "what is electronic music?" is nearly an unsolvable problem, at least in the sense that across-the-spectrum agreement appears to be an impossibility. But the input of suggestions from individuals is certainly welcome and is actively encouraged.

As you'd expect, software is a recurring subject. Recombinant Media Labs' Naut Humon wittily questions whether a gig these days is "music or a software demonstration". Tim Hecker, aka Jetone, states that electronic music used to be an elitist domain. It used to be that only hands-on electronic gurus with money to burn could make this music. Now, anyone with a computer and about a grand for the software can get involved. Throughout the afternoon, it is extraordinarily tricky to get the sense of whether anyone here believes this is a positive or negative thing.

Yet it's clearly not that accessible, since the most common criticism of electronic music is that it's, um, not human, it's mechanized, there's no soul. A lengthy discussion about expressionism vs predeterminism takes place. It's essentially an extension of Naut's previous comment, i.e. who is making the damned music? Is software just doing it's own thing, or is there any evidence that the artist has spent a great deal of time learning about the software and exploited it in a wholly original way?

Matt Herbert, aka Radioboy, feels that electronic music must become a "sharing experience" in order to gain greater acceptance. Performances must have an intimacy similar to people singing along while somebody plays an acoustic guitar. In this way, everyone feels as though they're part of the music. In my thoughts, I recall Janek Schaeffer's performance from last night as a possible candidate for a "sharing experience".

Philip Sherbourne (doing another fine job as chair of this emotionally charged session) makes comparisons with rock music, specifically punk. When punk happened, everyone and their uncle started a band, and most of them were crap. The cream rose to the top, their music evolved, and everyone else quickly ran their course. If exactly the same thing is happening with electronic music right now, then should we be worried about it? It's an excellent point that I wish had been given more weight. Contemporary performers can learn a lot from past trends, but there are also some unfair dichotomies between rock and electronic music. For instance, I've never understood how Oasis can climb onstage, stand around doing absolutely nothing, and it's called a "transcendent rock performance". But if someone with a laptop is onstage doing equal amounts of nothing, then it's boring. Sherbourne is on to something: some of the "criteria" (What is a "live" performance? Who can make music and what "should" their skills be?) must be revised, but others need not be.

This session runs more than half an hour overtime, which is expected when the people present are discussing their livelihoods, and feel the need to defend their reputations even when they're not at stake.

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Closely tied into this is the question of who attends MUTEK, for the wider one casts the net over what is posited as "electronic" and therefore "appropriate" for MUTEK (whatever that means), the greater the variety of people that will attend, which in turn is a prime indicator of the mood or vibe of MUTEK events, which is key in defining what MUTEK "is". One can interpret this as literally as one likes, since if it is indeed impossible or unwarranted to define electronic music, the same should apply to MUTEK itself. Last week, I considered the issue of the MUTEK attendees at some length, so I won't attempt to address the whys once more. I will attempt to interpret the whats, though. Bear with me …

Xenofonex and Capsule blend their performances together, which is sensible since it involves the same people. The first part is warm, luscious ambient and then the schizophrenic reaction takes place as we switch to a mixture of beats, electronic effects and (live!) heavily treated guitar. A bit too prog and middling (guitar solos? Why?) but huge, cherry-topped kudos to anyone incorporating guitar effects into dance music.

Camp offers a fun pack of treats, from Chain Reaction-esque minimalism to ambient to pounding beats. As he rocks the place, yet people stand around, I notice that things have changed. The crowd has changed. I peer out from my spot behind the stage and look closely - lots upon lots of people wearing black clothing. I look around me - same thing. Lord, the VROMB crowd has eaten the MUTEK crowd.

Worlds are colliding both musically and socially. Not only does VROMB's harsh and noisy style clash with much of the material at MUTEK, there is very little overlap between the fan bases. To the MUTEK crowd, VROMB is "emerging", but he is already a big name in industrial circles. And he lets loose with a startling forty minute set of rhythmic noise, steamrolling bass vibrations, and controlled chaos. The industrial fans eat it up, I could tell because some of them were tapping their feet. He leaves to deservedly thunderous applause, since he just blew away 90% of what MUTEK has to offer.

Now it's time to get serious. The afternoons and evenings of the snooty, polite applause for obscure, willfully uncommercial artists that real clubgoers don't give a fuck about are over and done with. All week, there's been a heavyweight fight kind of buildup to this night at Metropolis. The star power involved is formidable. It's the bittersweet homecoming for Montreal's biggest minimal tech-house star, Akufen, and a celebration of his newly released album "My Way" on the prominent Force Inc. label. And most importantly, MUTEK attempts to fill a huge venue, the sleek Metropolis, and prove that she can hang with the big boys and draw sizeable crowds and money.

Steve Beaupre fires up the sound system with quality bass-heavy beats, leading into the set by one of Toronto's finest, Repair. They begin on a slightly rough footing, playing unspectacular house music with the ethereal-voiced Dawn Lewis. The Thibedeaus don't get settled in until Dawn leaves the stage, then they hit fourth gear running with the sublime, deep and minimal tech-house which is their forte. Adopting these grooves to include choruses and tinkly keyboard melodies is fine (hey, they can do what they want), but it's a shame to be spending some of their time with it when they can make world-class material in a different genre. Repair end up getting what they deserve - a room full of people dancing passionately to their music.

Now sufficiently warmed up, Copacabannark look to be out to destroy the mood despite the execution of yet another Wonderful Idea I Wish I'd Thought of Myself. In Copacabannark's world, the insanely hard, jacking house beat is tweaked every twenty seconds and rhythm is frequently and rudely interrupted by piercing high-frequency squalls and bombastic blankets of grey noise. Against all odds, the crowd totally eats it up, popping like five-day old pimples for each of these bizarre breaks, thus providing MUTEK 2002 with its very own Philippe Cam moment. It helps that Cabanne plays the part of Ralf from the Muppet Show, furiously headbanging away as he causes eardrums to break for the umpteenth time with noise squall #374A.

I close my eyes and open them repeatedly, but each time I see the same thing. I see performers on a stage, set back from the crowd and surrounded by mysterious dry ice smoke in front of an adoring audience that cheers them like rock stars. In short, it feels like an ordinary club gig. During the year and a half of MUTEKs I've attended, the artists performed on a centrally located stage and freely wandered and danced among everyone else. That's how conferences and conventions function. The speakers/artists are really no different than those who hear them. The opportunities to mingle allow people to freely share ideas, stories, experiences, and technologies. What we have here is a gaggle of club kids who came to dance and then go home.

But they also came to gaze at musical stars, which is why the front of the room becomes jam packed for Radioboy. Matt Herbert's done a zillion different genres during his lengthy career and most of them contain more creative worth than what is featured during this Radioboy performance. But who cares? The music is chaos. It's the soundtrack for him to get on stage and destroy the merchandise from companies and institutions he despises. He doesn't put his soul into writing melodies, he puts it into a path of destruction and gleefully samples the results. This is an unabashedly brilliant bit of politicizing. He is willing to partially sabotage his own music, his livelihood, to leave extra energy for the spectacle of annihilating these cancer-ridden wares. He is even willing to economically support companies like Starbucks and Gap in order to do these performances, all in the name of a greater good. He strikes ridiculous yet proudly triumphant poses such as a militaristic stance while staring intensely at the audience and raising a Big Mac over his head. The point is emphatically made, but damned if I know exactly what it is. It was unspeakably cool though, and I cheer wildly just like everybody else. Regardless if we don't feel as strong as him about the corporate evil, he's up there wreaking havoc in a matter that we'd all jump at the chance to do, for it looks like so much bloody fun. And if, in the course of observing this fun, one is made aware that Nike and Disney are corporate behemoths with questionable politics and business practices, then Herbert's accomplished everything he could have realistically hoped for.

The place doesn't exactly go wild for Akufen, except at the very front nearest the stage. I notice that there is a disproportionate number of musical artist, journalists and generalized Wednesday/Thursday MUTEK milieu. The rest of the floor dances politely, but without serious conviction. Akufen is preaching to the converted. As he gets deeper into his set, this vibe spreads until everyone is well and truly into until burning out near the end. Is this because 90% of those at Metropolis tonight haven't been taken in by the buzz from a series of acclaimed vinyl releases? It is a formidable task to hype a new CD cold, without that year of anticipation from the vinyl.

Due to hype burnout and exhaustion due to the late hour, most don't stay to hear Hakan Lidbo. A massive second wind develops, the dancefloor gets madder than at any previous point in the evening, and the clubgoers, those who supposedly only came for the dancing, feel Lidbo's beats in their bones. The building shakes with some of the most powerful bass I've ever heard, and I can't help but dance until it's all over.