It doesn't take a rocket scientist to "get" the Chemical Brothers' high-tech brand of pop, but then, the English duo's music has little to do with the brain's higher functions. During their performance Tuesday at the Hollywood Palladium, it was best to be out on the dance floor, letting their hard-driving electro-funk hit you where it's supposed to--in the viscera.
For just over 90 minutes, Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons crafted a seamless set of futuristic disco, hunched over their consoles like twin Wizards of Oz, dwarfed by the black-and-white projections and throbbing strobe lights among their ever-thickening sonic cacophony. They bowed slightly to performance conventions ignored until recently--such as acknowledging the audience--but the young tribe didn't expect conversation. Communication came through the sounds themselves, and so a diaphragm-rattling bass note elicited the sort of cheers a hearty "How ya doin', L.A.?" might extract from an average rock crowd.