The gentleman at the keyboard is Tim Thomas, and he was way ahead of his time. While everyone was trying to sound like Nirvana, he was creating absolutely fucking chaotic rock and roll that sounded like robots having sex with smart punk rock bands. Like I said, way ahead of his time. You see, Brainiac is an example of what I like to call a Rosetta Stone band. Once you discover one of these bands, you can decipher where a lot of other bands got their inspiration and method from. Here are some bands who owe some definite tribute to Brainiac: At The Drive-In, Blood Brothers, The Locust, The Faint, Liars, and pretty much all the mid-to-late 2000s dance punk bands.
Let's take a quick trip back to 1994. Kurt Cobain died in 1994. Well, he shot himself in the face with a shotgun. At the time, everyone wondered what that meant for rock music, or scrambled to solidify Nirvana and Cobain's place in the pantheon of rock and roll. I did neither of these, since I was only 14. I mostly watched MTV non-stop while they played Nirvana's Unplugged on a 24-hour loop, broken up by periodic MTV News updates from the vigil/media circus that ensued in Seattle.
Brainiac released their second album "Bonsai Superstar" in 1994. It is amazing. I listened to it for the first time 3 days ago and could NOT BELIEVE this came out a year after "In Utero." The guitar playing is absolutely incredible and spastic, the rhythm section heaves and sways like it's about to puke, the vocals on almost every song have some kind of weird effect on them (or multiple ones), and the last track is just fucking synth noises and feedback turned into a haunting dirge (way before everybody would praise Radiohead for doing this kind of thing on "Kid A"). For all the controversy raised about how un-commercial and noisy Nirvana's "In Utero" was, "Bonsai Superstar" makes it sound like a New Kids on the Block record.
Fast forward three years to 1997: Kurt Cobain is in the ground, and the whole alternative revolution is not far behind. Spice Girls mania has gripped the country. Ska is popular for some reason. Creed's "My Own Prison" comes out of nowhere to usurp the allegiance of the lost, stupid, dangerous hordes of rock fans that Nirvana's rise and subsequent demise created. Commercial radio has not stopped shitting out Spice Girl clones and Nirvana-lite since 1997. Go listen to your local rock and/or pop station and tell me I'm wrong. There's no way Cobain could have envisioned the trajectory from Nirvana to Nickelback, just as Thomas could never have predicted that his music would inspire the artists in the exact opposite spectrum of indie rock music, but it's an interesting development.
Let's get back to how 1997 was going for Tim Thomas and Brainiac. They had just released an amazing EP called "Electro-Shock for President" that ditched guitars and live instrumentation for a completely synth-driven environment. They got signed to Interscope Records and started pre-production on their 4th studio album. And then, on May 23, 1997, Tim Thomas was killed in a car accident. Nobody questioned what this meant for rock music, or rushed to solidify Brainiac or Thomas' place in the pantheon of rock and roll.
I'd be remiss if I didn't remark on Cobain's suicide vis a vis Thomas' death, because I immediately thought about the connection when I first learned about the fate of Tim Thomas. I will say this, though. In hindsight, it did seem like Nirvana didn't have much gas left in the tank and had reached a ceiling with "In Utero." Cobain's death was unfortunate, but also cemented his legacy by not ruining it with what probably would have been two or three subpar Nirvana albums. By contrast, when you look at the artistic progression Brainiac achieved in 3 years, Tim Thomas's death is an absolute fucking TRAGEDY. Who knows what that fourth album would have sounded like.
I discovered Nirvana at the perfect time in my life, when things like rock bands or movies can seriously influence the type of person you want to become and emulate. Kurt Cobain wrote the music that made me want to pick up a guitar and start making music in the first place. I suppose I'm discovering Brainiac at an equally important juncture in my life as an adult. Tim Thomas is the kind of forgotten genius who inspires me to push my music into the dark, weird places I want to explore, without apology or hesitation. I mean, we're all going to die, so fuck it. I'd rather leave behind the body of work that leaves people wondering what the hell I would have done next.
