Ten years of relentless touring can take its toll on a band, not least in a chronic disruption of television habits. Salaryman's novel solution is to install a crystal bucket onstage and hand the remote control unit to a member of the audience, thus providing both incidental visual accompaniment to their groovy basement techno and succour for anyone present gutted at choosing to miss out on The Big Match, or even The World's Most Dangerous Police Videos.
As The Poster Children, this Champaign, Illinois quartet bestrode the grunge era with a string of records made with US underground luminaries - most notably Steve Albini - but became gradually frustrated by the constraints of the traditional guitar-bass-drums-psychotic screaming format. Experiments with cheap keyboards and samplers led to the birth of Salaryman.
Instead of lacerating his vocal chords, Rick Valentin now pokes buttons, while brother Jim and erstwhile bassist Rose Marshack complete the transformation from sweat-drenched existentialist indie rockers to thoroughly capable keyboard operatives, who still happen to perspire a goodly amount. This is crucial: while the technology may have changed, Salaryman maintain their alter ego's combustible properties, junking the myth that the realm of analog and digital textures is necessarily an arid, fun-free place to visit.
Indeed, the star of the show is the two bands' sole constant factor. A polyrythmic blizzard of limbs and oblique time-signatures, drummer Howie Kantoff instils these pop ditties with a ruthlessness and abandon that mitigates against the concentration drift that only the most adept instrumental groups manage to avoid. That, and the fact that Salaryman aren't reliant on preprogrammed patterns, means proceedings here are fraught with spontaneity. Rose regularly stares at her colleagues in an endearing combination of terror and amusement as order somehow emerges from the electronic maelstrom.
This humanity and sheer gusto for the job at hand is Salaryman's saving grace, for in truth there is nothing vastly revelatory about their synthetic slant on alt-rock mores. With the Valentins' studious demeanour - tellingly, two members of this band have maths degrees - and all-round unselfconscious geekiness, Salaryman could be on a covert mission to elevate Thomas Dolby to the status of postmodern cultural icon. Yet with new tunes as transparently great as The Companion, or when armed with Voids and Supercluster's ominous punch, they are good value for an hour of low-key boffin-bothering enjoyment. Channel 5 has never been so worth watching.
