In 1995, “Da Funk,” the first single from Daft Punk’s debut
album, Homework, filtered into suburbia through corporate
alt-rock radio and MTV’s Amp and completely blew my teenage
mind. Those french-fried funk guitars, strutting bass synths,
squiggling 303s, and stomping drum-machine beats—I don’t think I’d ever
really heard a funk guitar at that point in my life, let alone one
sampled and splayed over an 808 beat (it would be years before I even
knew what an 808 or 303 was, or why those machines even mattered). At
the time, my buddies and I didn’t even have the language to talk about
dance music, let alone dance to it; the best description we could come
up with for the track was “scootin’ music,” because when you listened
to it while driving around in your parents’ car, it made you want to
scoot your ass around on the seat.
By now, the 15-year-old story of Daft Punk is legendary: Parisian
kids form a Brian Wilson–inspired rock band, open for Stereolab, are
dubbed “daft punk” in a harsh review from Melody Maker,
reappropriate the critical dis as a new moniker, start making techno in
their bedrooms, turn into robots, and take over the world. Along the
way, they taught generation of American “rock kids” to dance.
I know, because I was one of those kids.
By the time the duo released their sophomore album,
Discovery, five years later, I’d found enough like-minded,
disco-deprived rock kids to make for some pretty good dance parties.
Daft Punk’s “One More Time” or “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” would
always be the odd techno banger sandwiched in between all the usual
’80s new wave and popular hiphop, the rare electronic jam that everyone
could agree on. (“One More Time” is also the only song I’ve ever sung
as karaoke.)
When Daft Punk first appeared, they were lumped in with other
“electronica” crossovers the Prodigy, the Chemical Brothers, and Fatboy
Slim, hyperbolically hailed by the U.S. music press as the
death/rebirth of rock ‘n’ roll. But Daft Punk were never even the
biggest electronic act in America, let alone a credible threat to rock
‘n’ roll hegemony. While “One More Time” hit number one in France and
number two in the UK and Canada, it reached only number 61 in the U.S.
(tying with “Around the World” as their highest charting stateside
single)—well below the domestic sales peaks of Fatboy Slim’s sing-along
sampledelia “Praise You” and the rave-rock meth threats of the
Prodigy’s “Firestarter.”
Yet, Daft Punk have proven far more enduring than their would-be
contemporaries, both in their musical output and their profile in pop
culture. While other acts faded from view, became embarrassingly dated,
or just pumped out mediocre records, Daft Punk have retained their
cachet and grown only more popular. Even the generally disappointed
reviews of their most recent album, Human After All, have
hardly diminished their iconic stature.
Daft Punk’s enduring prominence has as much to do with their
cleverly constructed image as it does with their endorphin-releasing
music. Their robotic facade allows them a certain aesthetic
timelessness. While other acts grow old and flabby or bald around the
bihawks, Daft Punk have maintained their carefully crafted mystique,
dodging interviews, rarely playing live, and never appearing out of
their disguises (though appearing everywhere from Gap commercials to
Kanye West videos in them). They have remained eternally,
facelessly cool.
While their crossover-ready contemporaries were caught up in the
aggressive sweep of “big beat” and “electronica,” Daft Punk eschewed
trends to produce the fey synth pop of Discovery and the pet
project feature-length anime Inerstella5555. For a pair of
supposedly dispassionate robots, Daft Punk tend to follow dramatically
personal and humanly fallible whims rather than merely mechanically
reproduce their successes.
And those whims keep them on the avant-garde, at least to American
ears (and eyes, thanks to collaborations with Spike Jonze, Michel
Gondry, and Leiji Matsumoto). Homework announced techno and
French filter house, Discovery‘s light pop presaged
indietronica and laptop pop, and even Human After All, given a
couple years’ critical distance, sounds like the first shot of the
current Parisian electro assault led by manager Busy P’s Ed Banger
Records.
Daft Punk’s legacy continues to grow. In addition to stepchild
Banger, the duo have produced a feature-length silent film,
Electroma (about, you guessed it, robots on a quest to become
human—a kind of inverse Daft Punk legend), and, despite rumors, they
apparently have no plans to hang up their helmets anytime soon. At long
last, they’re coming to Seattle, and by all accounts, their live show
is spectacular. To borrow a lyric, Daft Punk are playing at my house.
I’ve been waiting for this forever. Now let’s scoot. 
Electroma screens Thurs July 26 at the Capitol Hill Arts
Center.