Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

When this deep-dish outlaw electronic collage greatest anti-hits double album from old school plagiarist-producer, subversive publicist, transgressive after hours NYC DJ, and rabid record collector came in the mail, I got new locks for the doors and got rid of the land-line. With a steady stream of 'burners' (cell phones I ditch regularly), and a Costco-sized supply of peanut butter, I am holed up with a good sound system, pumping this sonic act of TERRORISM day and night, waiting for the helicopters to come down. Meanwhile, I'm making out my will for my hard copies of the "Hang the DJ" series to all the Girl Talk kids in my exchange cell.

Steinski has had his fingers on the faders since the early Reagan years, crunching bold beats with really hilarious cross-pop-cultural references, all in the name of dance dance revolution (The Game, not a game). I was lucky enough to have a few of "The Lessons" (chopped up with Double D), his series of just that for noise-heads and friends of the family back in the days when your regular purchase of new vinyl could be anything from Live Skull to the latest from Detroit house parties.

I never became any sort of Geeta Dayal, far from it, but remained friendly to this type of giggling powder-enhanced animated audio slice-ups. This huge collection collects the first, "The Payoff Mix," with the James Brown "Lesson," through the essential way-ahead-of-its-time "Voice Mail (Sugar Hill Suite)" before delving into various collaborations with People I Can't Tell You About.

I wish Steinski had been interviewed for the new Sound Unbound book, his voice would have been valuable to it (I'm sure DJ Spooky asked though, knowing Steinski's contrarian ways, the existence of this anthology is surprising enough). In the meantime, we have the second disc here, as necessary a text as anything Cut Chemist could come up with, a full hour manifesto titled "Nothing to Fear." Which is anything but.