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Most people wouldn’t throw a Crystal Method CD into their car stereo and describe the duo as “musical entrepreneurs ahead of their time.” But the oddball business description would be more than fitting. Before electronic music was granted the same avenues of exposure as your run-of-the-mill Top 40 pop hits, Scott Kirkland and Ken Jordan of the Crystal Method were exploring alternative routes of rocking the masses to great success. “We can’t help it that we’re sexy! We can’t help it that everyone wants us!” laughs Kirkland, the vodka and Red Bull rushing to his head backstage at the intimate Vain Ultra Lounge in downtown Detroit. “But we did wrestle with the concept of [commercializing our music] early on. We were like, ‘Fuck you! Fuck money! We’re hardcore!’ … We were young, dumb and passionate.”

It might’ve started with a softcore GAP commercial, but the Los Angeles-via-Las Vegas boys of the Crystal Method didn’t stop there. The deejays continued racking up television, film, video game soundtrack and commercial credits like a rabid Pac-man hungry for points. Over 30 big budget films and a gracious handful of video games have been graced with their fierce, rock-charged brand of techno within a short 12 years. “Wrestling with an idea for us is kind of like the war on terror — where do I aim? Where do I swing?” continues Kirkland. “In the end … the idea is that we’re not specifically making music for commercials. These tracks are already out there in the ethos.” Adds an equally buzzed Jordan, “There’s some nasty shit going on to our music that we don’t even know about (laughs). Think of all the different ways our music is enjoyed! Once [we] got past that, [we] realized it’s wasn’t ours anymore.”

Once Kirkland and Jordan put down the vodka and took over the stage, the cinematic appeal of the Crystal Method was hard to deny. With only 200 or so patrons jammed into Vain the night before Movement 2010 was set to kick off (a cozy number of fans compared to the duo’s gig at Red Rocks in Denver the following night), their set didn’t sound like typical Saturday night club fare from out in the streets. It became a living, breathing, punch you in the face and pull you by the hair soundtrack — a raunchy sex scene fueled by simplistic, crunchy bass lines; a riveting car crash powered by thundering yet precise drums. Kirkland and Jordan served as the directors for the night’s film, constantly working the crowd and pushing the intensity towards a Hollywood climax with each track. Their performance proved it was never about selling records or using their music to sell jeans to middle aged women. With one last sip, Kirkland wrangled it all into perspective — “we love the music, we love the culture, we love the vibe.” Roll the credits.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

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