In the ’00s, the 14-legged love machine that was U.S.E seemed to be on the verge of superstardom. The Seattle group’s absurdly ebullient dance music was huge in Japan and had important American critics ululating with hyperbole. Indie-rock fans and electronic-music heads united in their admiration for U.S.E, whose members conjured a euphoria so overwhelming, they almost had a benevolent, cultish aura about them. Aural and lyrical love was U.S.E’s drug, and people needed to score.
U.S.E (short for United State of Electronica) didn’t blow up as expected, though, and they dispersed following a 2009 New Year’s Eve show after releasing two albums and five singles. Their catalog abounds with anthems geared to evaporate cynicism and gloom with the flourish of a radiant synth swell, an ecstatic guitar chime, a pell-mell disco beat, and an angelic vocal. I had the good fortune to witness hundreds of Japanese fanatics lose their minds to U.S.E in Tokyo and Osaka, and it felt, looked, and sounded like a Pacific Northwest Beatlemania in miniature.
