At the moment, Tricky is not in motion. But given the trip-hop auteur's predilection for spending the bulk of his waking hours recording, remixing, and producing music -- other artists' as well as his own -- the sight of him sprawled across a sofa backstage at the Charlotte, N.C., Lollapalooza seems unusual indeed. On the other hand, he's entitled to a little rest, having just finished performing a hour-long set of dark, dense, dub-influenced soundscapes that left many in the audience scratching their heads.

Such is the challenge Tricky faces on a multi-artist bill headlined by the pummeling industrial-metal outfit Tool. Despite his cult-star status and a pair of albums (1995s Maxinquaye and '96s Pre-Millennium Tension) that won critical acclaim, the Bristol, England-born performer finds himself playing to crowds less interested in sonic collage than enjoying the sun. This hard truth, which Tricky discovered during Lollapalooza's opening date in West Palm Beach, Fla., has required some quick strategizing.

"At the first show, we just couldn't get into it," says Tricky, shaking his head. "But now, we understand we're playing for people who don't know us. We've always had it easy back home, and this is kind of a difficult situation. In our usual set, some of the songs almost stand still. But you've got no time for that here. You've got to hit with all your energy right now, because the audience is saying 'OK, whaddya got?'"

Indeed, Tricky's presence on the seventh annual Lollapalooza tour is a test of sorts -- for him, as well as the festival's more alternative rock-oriented audience. After all, atmospheric, genre-skipping experimentation does not generally go hand-in-hand with a rowdy crowd guzzling beer and clamoring for guitars cranked up to 11.

"Music has to be mongrel and chaos for it to live," Tricky contends. "The music industry thinks people are ignorant and need to be spoon-fed, but who wants to listen to just one thing all of the time? I guess it's easier to want minstrels and categories, though. I think that sells easier." Nevertheless, in Charlotte, Tricky and his five-piece band (which includes singer Martine) did succeed in pulling pockets of the audience into the hypnotic undertow of songs like "Christiansands" and the mesmerizing autobiographical rap of "Tricky Kid."

"I'm still learning," says the singer, who was born Adrian Thaws. "I want to write a song as good as Bob Marley or Prince or Kurt Cobain. And I haven't done that yet and won't for many years." Nobody can accuse him of not trying, though. He says his new album is already in the can ("I just have to mix it") and promises it will be "very different" from his previous work. The lyrics reflect his experiences "living in New York, watching a lot of death around me, and realizing that life is cheap."