CRITICAL MAAS

THE STATE OF MAASACHUSETTS DECLARED ITS INDEPENDENCE in early November, and its leader delivered a knockout of an inaugural address.

That leader was none other than 31-year old German DJ Timo Maas, the newest darling of the dance music scene. But his success was far from assured-faced with rain-soaked clubbers sporting high expectations (other weekend visitors to Boston included big-shot DJs Laurent Garnier and Judge Jules), Maas had to work to win the favor of his Lansdowne Street crowd.

And as with many DJ sets, the first few tracks only lured the serious dancers and glow-stick fiends away from their drinks and onto the dance floor. But as the rhythms became more snare-intensive and Maas' trademark bass rattled the club's foundation, fewer and fewer found themselves able to resist. By the time the sampled introductory chords of Madonna's "Vogue" gave way to yet another punishing rhythmic assault, a mere hour into the set, it became clear that Europe's Next Big Thing was well on his way to winning over Boston clubbers.

From then on it was time for a first-rate showcase of Maas' signature "wet, hard funk," a genre-defying dance floor assault whose defining characteristic is its ability to create mass gyration on the dance floor. The basic tools-sirens, cricket chirps, claps and Maas' favorite sound effect, the synthesizer growl were not especially deft or inventive in themselves, but the insistent bass and driving beats kept the crowd eager for more. The stabs at drama, such as cutting the strobes to frame Maas between two columns of red light, were simple at best, but enthralling nonetheless.

But perhaps the greatest indicator of Maas' success was the absence of a riotous response to "Dooms Night," the Azzido Da Bass track whose ubiquitous remix catapulted Maas to the forefront of the international scene. The crowd certainly ate it up, roaring with anticipation as the familiar shuffling beat filtered from the speakers, but not so much that anyone could call Maas a one-remix wonder. If anything, they much preferred lesser-known but equally well-crafted Maas tracks, occasionally jumping up and down with the reckless abandon of seventh-graders at a school dance. That's not to say that Maas avoided well-known tracks-another crowd favorite was Fatboy Slim's new single "Star 69," universally recognized by its spoken nonsense-meets-gratuitous-obscenity loop.

Of course, "wet, hard funk" has a way of piling up on itself, a tendency that a well-placed vocal mix can alleviate. Maas was often a bit stingy in this department; although he was quite an affable presence in the DJ booth, the same personal touch of vocals would have provided an interesting counterpoint to his occasional minimalist proclivities. The set was generally straightforward and built around the usual throbbing 4/4 rhythms (Maas had promised earlier that evening that his set would be "a bit rougher" than his in-store performance at Allston's Sound Factory), but he threw in some overt nods to trance and breakbeat came as the set wound down. In fact, some of his final offerings seemed more like indications of the imminent end than attempts to close with a bang. But by the time 2 a.m. rolled around, his continued good reputation was already beyond secured.

The reticent superstar hammed it up as the needle lifted for the final time, drawing hoarse cheers and chants of his name with outstretched arms, a playful I-told-you-I'd-make-you-dance wink, and a devilish grin. It had been quite a workout for the Axis crowd, but one sure to result in many happy returns to Maasachusetts.

Next issue: an exclusive interview with Maas.

TIMO MAAS

at

Avalon

November 10

TIMO MAAS

at

Avalon

November 10