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You draw a lot from literature in what you do. Your original ideas derived from cutting up ˆ la Burroughs, then youÕve done these biographical works of Patricia Highsmith and Ludwig Wittgenstein, etc. These are not typically rock & roll-type concerns.

DANIEL: No, IÕd like to build work that happens as an idea and happens as sound, and it hopefully also happens as music. But it doesnÕt need to be music first. Hopefully it can survive as music when IÕm not around to pontificate about it, but for me I often start at a conceptual level, and I just find it perverse that by fixing what you do with one concept ŠŠ like weÕre just going to work with the skin of a rabbit ŠŠ you know, it sounds not very promising, frankly, but in fact it becomes incredibly freeing once youÕve gotten over that decision, Õcause thereÕs so much that you can actually do with just the noises of the skin of a rabbit.

How do you generate your music? Should we assume that you generally start with a concept rather than an emotion, say?

SCHMIDT: Yes. In fact I donÕt think weÕve ever started with sort of, ŅIÕm pissed off today, letÕs make a pissed-off song!Ó [laughs]

DANIEL: I think the emotion needs to be inside the form, and I think some people respond in a very emotional way to the music. We get letters sometimes that are very demonstrative about this, and I donÕt mean to sound cold, like itÕs all just their projection, I just think the emotion has to be in the form if itÕs really there; it shouldnÕt be about, well, I felt this way and that proves that my song is sad, that proves that my song is joyous and upbeat. There are things that I want the listener to decide for themselves; I think sometimes music becomes a kind of emotional porn, you know, people put it on to feel powerful when they feel helpless.

IÕve been listening to SchubertÕs Winterreise this week a lot, and I canÕt tell if the fact that itÕs doing the things to me that itÕs doing are because of the work; and with Matmos I think it can be distracting that people think they need to know this elaborate ŠŠ

SCHMIDT: What do you mean, Ņthe workÓ?

DANIEL: Well, I mean there are a lot of different emotions in Winterreise, but because I know a lot about the circumstances of when it was made I tend to just hear it as all melancholic and I donÕt hear all of the other emotions inside it. I mean, I just think that sometimes the discourse can capture the work. I donÕt mean to say that in the interview that youÕre the bad guy, youÕre creating more discourse. [laughs]

How strictly do you have to stick to a concept once youÕve decided on one? Do you ever find, since youÕre not just scientists, youÕre not cold people, the emotional element does take hold mid-process and carry the work through?

SCHMIDT: I think IÕm probably the guilty one in that. I have more pitched music sort of training; IÕm the one who says ŅOh, this seems to go in a sad directionÓ and letÕs push that hard, letÕs use these particular chord combinations or whatever.

DANIEL: When I started out we would use an object and I would just sample the object and I would stack it in octaves so that it was always more or less in whatever pitch the object itself was in. We actually got into trouble when we started to make a piece commissioned by the Kronos Quartet, because we had them play this hubcap and the hubcap was in this really weird, dour not-quite pitch, and we had to adjust it so that Kronos could play along with it.

And I guess thatÕs an example of starting with some material back of the object and not really worrying whether the outcome resembles standard music or not. But we have to be cool that Kronos are not going to bring an extra set of four instruments just so they can play along to our piece, you know, to make it in the key of hubcap. [laughs

For your second record in the '90s you recorded the sound of a vivisected crayfish, among other animal things. In a case like that, was it the idea of what you were doing or the actual sounds you discovered in the process that was paramount?

SCHMIDT: You know, there are rich ideas and there are rich sounds, and if youÕre extremely lucky theyÕre the same thing. [laughs]

DANIEL: I often think maybe people feel weÕre gimmicky in over-sharing all this information, but it really does matter to me thatÕs itÕs real, you know, that the basis really was crayfish nerve tissues, that the basis really was playing an actual Enigma Machine used in WWII. We go to great lengths to acquire access to very unusual situations, because we think sonically thereÕs a point to the particularities of objects, that you get both.

What I really like is how you guys provide the background info on what youÕre doing, just in case someone wants to further appreciate what theyÕre hearing. What I like even better is that a listener doesnÕt necessarily need to know all this stuff to enjoy the music.

DANIEL: Yeah, it should have a life without that information. People freak out that because of file-sharing now thereÕs just a file and it doesnÕt have the credits and it doesnÕt reflect the community of people that made it happen, and I think thatÕs true; on the other hand, now that thereÕs the internet, if someoneÕs curious about what weÕre up to they can find it out, because weÕre so eager to rant and rave.

People get very worried about what the future of material is in an increasingly digital environment, but I think also itÕs potentially a good time for conceptually oriented work, because the means and ideas can transfer so quickly now.

What youÕre doing is important in a different way. For example, I liked this story I heard about the making of The Rose Has Teeth in the Mouth of a Beast, where, on the track in tribute to writer Patricia Highsmith, IÕm told that you literally based the work on her books, i.e., you played the books themselves and recorded it. I believe that a snail played theremin on the album, too. What I find throughout your work is a kind of humor.

SCHMIDT: [laughter] I think it comes fairly naturally. I dunno. We probably wouldnÕt be too humorous if we thought about it too much, if we were too conscious of it.

Yeah, itÕs dangerous if your primary goal is comedy, because nothing is more repellant than something that sort of smirks at you about what itÕs doing. I mean, here IÕd say my model is more Nurse With Wound than Frank Zappa, maybe.

IÕm thinking of the track "Germs Burn for Darby Crash" on The Rose Has Teeth, where Drew gets burned with a cigarette. ThatÕs not humorous per se, though perhaps the extent to which you were driven in injecting realism into the track could be viewed in a cracked-grin sort of way.

DANIEL: It wasnÕt funny when we did it live onstage. We did that in L.A. ŠŠ Don Bolles showed up and gave me an actual cigarette burn onstage.

That sounds like something Don would do gladly.

DANIEL: [copious chortling all Õround] Bless him!

Do you think that irreverent or physically radical approach to making serious music is rooted in anything that might be related to the infamous California Lifestyle?

DANIEL: Well, yeah, you could direct a straight line from Chris BurdenÕs performance works to something like the Darby Crash piece. And thatÕs the other thing: ItÕs like when youÕre in a band, everyone assumes that your influences are just other bands and other records, but certainly for me and IÕm guessing that maybe for Martin too, the history of performance art and body art is really where we get a lot of our ideas and our sustenance from. You know, seeing pictures of Marina Abramovic pieces when I was a teenager ŠŠ I didnÕt have access to that kind of culture in Kentucky, but just seeing what she was doing, that was just as intense to me as punk rock.

Your artistic relationship formed after youÕd gotten together as a couple. How does your personal relationship come into play when youÕre making music? Is their an extra, oh, dynamic involved? Is it better, is it more difficult?

SCHMIDT: They feed on each other. I think it probably makes it more complicated. You know, you canÕt get away the way you can from another musician, for better or worse.

DANIEL: WeÕve always been both, like the musical partnership and the seduction process were the same. And I think it comes with a substantial benefit, because as improvisers, I feel like knowing where MartinÕs going and just playing music with him for so many years now, 15, 16 years ŠŠ we just had our 18^th anniversary on Halloween ŠŠ I can sense where a gesture is coming from and where we might go; it just feels very simpatico. On the other hand, it makes me jealous when I hear him improvise with other people [laughs] in a way that I donÕt think I would be if we were just in a band.

Your music has grown more and more complex and sophisticated. Yet on Supreme Balloon you simplified, sort of, using exclusively synthesizers, and no microphones. It was another concept, in a way.

SCHMIDT: I think it was partly selfish, in that IÕm sort of a gear hound ŠŠ I love my synthesizers and I felt like they were not getting enough attention. You know, thereÕs so much fuss about samples, samples, samples, and I always felt like, ŅBut what about synthesizers? TheyÕre good, too.Ó [laughs] And the interesting thing about synthesis is that itÕs extremely content-free, except with electronic music thereÕs a history that comes along with it; we tried to explore all of that along with it as well. The weight of history with a violin is a little too much to cover. The history of synthesis is relatively short.

Yet Matmos doesnÕt make abstract music as such. And are you a pop band? Do you care about how youÕre categorized?

SCHMIDT: I think we want people to enjoy listening to it. ItÕs not experimental music in that ŅWe do an experiment and this is the outcome whether you like it or not.Ó Generally, if we do an experiment and the outcome is bad, for lack of a better word, we donÕt use it, or will push it around until itÕs, you know, not bad anymore. [laughs]

DANIEL: I think pop is an amazingly flexible word. When Martin and I started our collaboration, we got into screaming arguments about what the word meant. We were on vacation in India and I think I ruined a good 12 hours of vacation in India by yelling about Ņpop.Ó And I guess what I like about ŠŠ

SCHMIDT: We could still get into that argument.

DANIEL: Yeah, letÕs do it now, itÕs on! [laughter]

SCHMIDT: ItÕs obvious that the word is short for popular; itÕs music thatÕs trying to be popular ŠŠ it wants you to love it.

DANIEL: ThereÕs a definition: ŅAn index of the cash register.Ó Whatever sold: pop. ThatÕs all there is to it. I think thereÕs also an implied lite, like it doesnÕt matter, is transient, is disposable, is flexible, is functional. All those kind of terms that arenÕt musically specific, they apply to all kinds of cultural products. To me itÕs really interesting when you can sneak something thatÕs disturbing, threatening, heavy, unpleasant into pop form. You know, thatÕs why it was fun to make A Chance To Cut, because we were making basically peppy, toe-tapping pop music out of the sound of bones being broken, and human blood and fat.

I donÕt know, I think worrying about pop and whether or not we belong is not really helpful to the form and ­­ŠŠ

SCHMIDT: ItÕs not something we think about like moment to moment, thatÕs for sure.

DANIEL: We let it happen, you know? If youÕre making a piece about Larry Levan, well, it better be funky, and it better be fun, you know, thatÕs the point. But when youÕre making a piece about, you know, Charles Turing, itÕs just ŠŠ

SCHMIDT: Alan.

DANIEL: Alan. If youÕre making a piece about Alan Turing, then maybe funkyÕs not appropriate. I want to be free to make that sort of music when thatÕs what I feel like making, but IÕm not interested in chasing a marketplace in a cynical way.

SCHMIDT: Boy, weÕre blowing that. [laughter] On the other hand, if you compare us to, like here in Baltimore, there is a deep, committed majority of musicians around who really could give a flying fuck about ŅpopÓ; theyÕre very committed to noise and the improv thing, and whether some kids like it or not be damned. I compare myself to some of my compatriots here and I realize how much more pop I have or desire for that in me.

DANIEL: And IÕm even more that way, I think Martin is much more the improviser, and IÕm more addicted to structure.

SCHMIDT: I love noise and the result of whatever happens when you improvise, but a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down. You know, a bit of melodic content or rhythmic content energizes chaos; you have to have dark to make light meaningful. And if its undifferentiated noise, people stop paying attention in a couple minutes.

DANIEL: It also becomes a way of playing it safe.

Maybe we can say youÕre a pop band who arenÕt necessarily so populist. I mean, seriously, do you make political music, however you might define that?

SCHMIDT: Sure, to a certain extent, to use that as a shorthand. I think Drew and I have different feelings about this. If we were to make music that was attempting to influence peopleÕs political actions, for my part it would be a lot more straightforward than what we do. I mean, there is some political content to what we do, but itÕs pretty light and easy.

DANIEL: The implicit politics of memorialization is what our work does. If you make a piece like The Rose Has Teeth, itÕs no accident that a history of the lives of so many queer men and women involves so many people who committed suicide. And thatÕs political; itÕs not just an accident that the statistics point toward madness and self-destruction, because weÕre in a homophobic society. But I donÕt feel like I somehow am rescuing these long-forgotten people; I donÕt think Ludwig Wittgenstein needs me [laughs], heÕs doing just fine without somebody writing a pop song about him.

I think the risk if you turn your art into political work is that itÕs a way of inflating your own importance, and it can let people off the hook too easily, like ŅOh, yeah, AIDS, thatÕs a real crisis, oh, IÕll listen to a Bruce Springsteen ballad in a movie starring Tom Hanks. Okay, now IÕm done.Ó

Political art doesnÕt necessarily translate into action, and I think if the frame is politics, then artÕs not structural enough to be where the battle ought to take place.