My last missive took a brief look into the circuit-studded heart of the electronic movement in popular music. In it, I outlined some issues that the genre was grappling with as it makes the transition from The Next Big Thing to a mature art form. The hand-full of bands that washed ashore on a gargantuan wave of hype were floundering a little -- only partially delivering on their promise.

It seems that the prospect of a premature ejaculation, when so many publicists have worked so hard, is wholly unacceptable to the recording industry. Even though hype is flagging, round two is coming down the pipe -- fast.

The September issue of CMJ New Music Monthly is a pretty good indicator that the train is still on track. The mag is rife with electronica. The cover story is dedicated to Prodigy, the frenetic, Madonna-approved foursome with groovy hair. There are reviews, there are interviews and there are ads, lots of them -- all dedicated to electronica acts. On top of all of this, the accompanying CD sports five electronic tracks (including the first three.)

As I discussed previously in this space, one of the tactics of techno advocates is to infuse it with the trappings of rock -- up-front, in-your-face live shows and plenty of large, crunching guitar samples. By clothing it in the mainstream, electronica can use the established rock formula to capitalize on a built-in fan base, fill larger venues and ultimately sell more units.

Case in point: track two on the CMJ compilation, "Ain't Talkin' 'bout Dub" by Apollo 440, begins with the repeated phrase, "Let's go back to the rock, back to the rock, back to the rock..." A sample of Eddie Van Halen's rapid fire "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" solo follows. Layer upon layer of electronic beats are heaped on top of each other in an endless loop with Eddie down there holding it all together, cigarette dangling from his lips. Here, my theory kind of falls to shit, because despite new singer Nuno Bettencourt, Van Halen's influence has taken up permanent residence in the late '80s -- but I think you get the larger point. Is there any band that personifies "Rock" more that Van Halen? I ask you!

The third track, a collaborative ditty by Filter and The Crystal Method that moves like a meth-addled cheetah is especially interesting. Called, "(Can't You) Trip Like I Do," the track is an emissary from a land of strange bedfellows -- Spawn -- The Album (Immortal-Epic/Sony Music Soundtrax).

Spawn -- The Album showcases phase two of the electronica push -- guerrilla marketing. Knob twiddlers like Alec Empire's Atari Teenage Riot, D.J. Spooky and The Dust Brothers, team up with rocker types Slayer, Metallica and Korn respectively. All this in honor of Spawn, the big screen adaptation of one of the most popular comic book heroes of our day -- a brawny, caped fellow able to shoot chains out his chest. The idea behind the album is to sneak in electronica under the banner of rock and comics -- two pulse-quickening staples of pimply American teens with allowances burning holes in their pockets.

The awkward introduction between the two genres is a friendly one by design. There's a lot of money to be made, despite the fact that the average Slayer fan would sooner throw out their hairspray supply than shake hands with a baggy-panted, ecstasy-chomping Atari Teenage Riot fan.

Maybe the pronounced differences are what makes the soundtrack viable. To hear Alice Cooper's latest acolyte, Marilyn Manson, howling along to trip-hoppers Sneaker Pimps, or Hank Rollins spewing venom over tracks laid down by Goldie is a novel concept and good clean fun for an hour or two.

It wasn't really a breakthrough concept, however, it's been tried before. 1993's Judgement Night soundtrack was created to the same end. As a matter of fact, it was created by the same guy, Immortal's Happy Walters. In Judgement Night, the synergy was between rap and grunge, but the concept was the same. Odd pairings like Mudhoney and Sir Mix-a-lot, Faith No More and Run DMC were designed to bring each style of music to a new audience and, in the end, bring each audience to the theater.

The result of that project was a bad film with an interesting soundtrack. That's about it. There was no blending of cultural camps. Even though some bands like Ice T's Body Count were swept away by the concept, they didn't go far.

After webcasting Machine Head, a very serious thrash metal band from Oakland, this weekend at Chicago's Metro, I'm just not convinced that the crossover concept has legs. The crowd at the show was there to inflict injury. They spat. They kicked. The lead singer sent our sound man into fits of censor button pushing between songs as he swore like a drunken sailor. Compared to the mellow, experiential vibe at rave shows with acts that seem to be cringing behind their turn tables to shield themselves from all of the attention, it'll take more than a soundtrack to bridge the gap.

We'll see what shakes out. Even if Spawn -- The Album doesn't give birth to a new type of music, it will promulgate the reputation of electronic music and segue into its next stage. If nothing else, maybe it will get the Beavis-set to learn new polysyllabic words like, Orb-i-tal and The Crys-tal Meth-od.

Brandon Barber