In terms of a musical revolution, the idea of “electronic” music should have had all the hallmarks of a new musical genre: The guitars, bass and drums were replaced by synthesized hums, beeps and insulated beats; vocals were no longer a necessity; and, what’s more, it had no hint of the previous definitions of popular music.

So when crafting a conception of a new musical genre, it would seem to be right up there. But electronic music has not been heralded as the “new sound” at any point in its history. Instead, the genre has been used and abused as pop music’s universal training wheels since before the genre was formed.

Even if you’ve never heard of the theremin, you’ve definitely heard its warbling, high-pitched whistle. While its predecessor, the ondes Martenot, could move with the atmospheric grace of a violin with proper manipulation, the instrument took years to master and produced little widespread interest. The theremin, however, found its audience: Countless science fiction flicks slathered their soundtracks with copious amounts of eerie warbling. Although theremin didn’t exactly scream classical techniques, its appropriation by the movie industry sent electronic experiments into the rock and pop cellar for a good 15 years.

Thank goodness for drugs. When LSD, marijuana and all sorts of psychedelic concoctions began to change the brains of the ’60s pop music visionaries, the sound had to change with it. While the obscure bands of the era may have used more analogue noises (Pearls for Swine used Morse code to spell out “fuck” in one of their songs), bands like The Who and Pink Floyd began to integrate synthesizers into their music, and the moog keyboard worked its way into nearly every ’70s rock group of the era.

Finally, around the early ’70s, electronic came into its own. Kraftwerk (which had previously counted itself as a sort of progressive heavy metal band) cultivated electronic music into a genre of its own. The group performed with synthesizers and keyboards while their minimalist thumps and occasional whisps of melody hovered over the mix.

Influential? Absolutely. But pop music it ain’t. Kraftwerk set a standard for the electronic movement that (regrettably) carried over throughout the genre: repetition, repetition, repetition. The thing that made Kraftwerk utterly unbearable for the vast majority of the population — other than the company of noisemakers Can and Neu! in the regionalized genre of “Kraut Rock” — was the repetition continued for half-hour spans. “Autobahn” charted in the U.S. top 40 when released as a four minute single, but that was considering it was cut down from 22 1/2 minutes.

So the piggy backing continued. Disco came along and made liberal use of synth and drum machines. Giorgio Moroder was an artisan of the electronic sound, but his talents were most well known for Donna Summer’s singles. Hey, at least he gave disco a little bit of a soul. For the rest of the mainstream, electronic music — either through sampling or pure synth — continued to be another nice little addition.

As you go through the years, the appropriation becomes a second thought. Cher wants to release a new single? Oh, yeah, throw in some pitch control. Justin Timberlake has a new single? Lay down a hot beat. Britney Spears is too drunk to come to the studio today? Well, who needs a singer when you have noises to distract from the tone! Electronic music has been the whore of the industry. Whenever some other element of popular music fails, insert synth or high-tech noises to spice up the song. For instance, “Leavin'” by Jesse McCartney is a just ’90s R&B croon without those pointless little beeps. It may not make sense, but it sounds different, so it goes up the charts.

But why couldn’t electronic make it on its own?

Well, it did. At least, they think they did. They just don’t really care about what you think.

While producers at Arista and BMG seemed to use electronic techniques like musical frosting, folks at labels like Warp baked the cake with it. LFO (no, not that one) and 808 State continued a tradition of sparse atmospheric tracks and half-dance beats. Today, artists like Squarepusher, Autechre and Aphex Twin have focused their work on interweaving lines of hard-edged beats with softer synth to create this skittering, twitchy genre of music called “IDM” — Intelligent Dance Music. If epilepsy is considered dancing, then maybe the genre fits. But it’s the “intelligent” part that really matters.

This is not tinkering; this is the new classical music. While the stuttering sound of a child-like voice repeating “Come to Daddy” over a low-synth tone and miscellaneous electronic clicks and clacks may sound like idiocy to you, it takes the expertise of a symphonic composer to execute. The IDM artists of today don’t need mainstream: It only creates lowbrow, base repetition. Their repetition is much more complex. Plus, who needs singing?

While utmost pretension may keep the great minds of electronic music from single-handedly birthing the next pop music renaissance, they’re integral if only for the remix. Bleeps and bloops will eventually get old, and people will have to find some new weird sound to spice up the music.

Many artists look at the remix as an opportunity to give their fans something without actually doing all the leg work — or to finally get on the charts. But remixes were a blessing with a gag order. Yes, you can remix a song. But why not remix the remix? And remix that remix?

Perhaps the medium is the real message in electronic music’s case. But we still need an actual melody to fit our pop music revolution.

You gotta think indie has a solution in there somewhere.

Jason Smathers ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in journalism and history.