As the electronic descendant of the lowly "cover version," the remix has become an inventive genre in its own right. The free Internet distribution of Danger Mouse's Grey Album-- the now-infamous blending of Jay-Z's The Black Album with The Beatles' self-titled White Album-- invited the wrath of EMI and reopened the debate over music ownership and the rights of artists to re-interpret. It's a good thing industry stuffiness isn't universal; otherwise, we'd have been denied expert recycling from the likes of Two Lone Swordsmen, art-house sonic terrorists V/VM, and the quirky lounge styling of Mike Flowers. Despite such capable company, Mochipet has elbowed to the top of the pile with this ridiculously unpredictable collection of reworked material. Combat takes an intriguing angle: On each track, two or more artists are pitted against each other in a cacophonous "battle of styles," with Mochipet stirring the cauldron into a frenzy of seizure-inducing mayhem.

Mochipet is Taiwan's David Wang, who made his name with self-released original material he'd send free in CD-R form to anyone who requested it from his website. Following his second CDR release-- Randbient Works 2002, which was released just as his idiosyncratic esoterica began to see recognition in the underground-- Wang was offered the opportunity to cut a 12" for Ellen Allien's Teutonic imprint, Bpitchcontrol, and happily took on the staggering workload that comes with the territory for electronica auteurs. Now there's Combat, his first official full-length, which comes courtesy of the Tigerbeat6 label's mischievous subsidiary, Violent Turd.

Here, Wang epitomizes the revisionist tendencies inherent in his genre, and produces surreal distortions and grotesque caricatures of some of music's most established institutions, from Yes to DJ Qbert. But Mochipet is no common mashup artist: Here, he complicates that formula by selecting source material purely via word association. Those of you who might balk at the uneasy pairings of Barry White with The White Stripes, or Captain Beefheart with Captain & Tennille may be alarmed to imagine Mochipet's own tireless techno battery scaffolding such unsteady constructions. But relax: Combat is a riotous, hilarious success.

After the introductory megamix of "Mochi vs. Soulseek", in which Wang prepares us for the maelstrom to come by borrowing from Rod Stewart, Destiny's Child and Vanilla Ice, the bombastic party-scape of "Wang Chung vs. The Real Wang" reveals an infectious enthusiasm for juxtaposition. But "Johnny Cash vs. Cash Money Millionaires" is the kicker, treating the originals with affection and intuitive invention. Here, Wang coaxes humor and optimism from Cash's ghostly vocals, doing no disservice to a legacy he could so easily have offended. "Aphex Twin vs. Thompson Twins", meanwhile, finds Combat at its most perverse. A cheekily crooned rendition of "Come to Daddy" degenerates into an unruly musical brawl as Wang's wacky interpretations overlap psychotically in a glorious flourish of creativity.

At worst, this record can be frivolous (see the banal but mercifully brief "Thundercats vs. The Stray Cats"). Some may also scorn the lack of structure which hovers over the proceedings, threatening to break up these strange marriages, but I'd argue that in such scattered sensory eruptions, Mochipet tends to incites the maximum incredulity and hilarity in his listeners more often than not. Naturally, of course, there are exceptions: "Barry White vs. The White Stripes vs. White Lion" can be oppressively jerky, despite offering an amusingly discordant vision of 70s, 80s, and contemporary pop. And "Neil Diamond vs. King Diamond vs. Lion King" is an unsettling carousel that reels drunkenly before slamming into the ghost train, ending the album on a mysteriously callous cackle.

Sonically, Combat pushes few boundaries, but does revel in an obsessive pop fascination that playfully upsets all preconceptions. Perhaps the album's most disturbing moment-- a candid reproduction of Captain & Tennille that escapes unmolested for one entire, terrifying minute-- best illustrates how gripping Mochipet's relentless showmanship can be.

Indeed, Combat is too involving to be considered pure mockery, too self-involved to be simply a tribute. But maybe Combat is best-described as a sort of deranged karaoke. Wang plasters himself all over the guilty pleasures in which he so degenerately indulges. As such, this record is best enjoyed by the drunk and the whimsical, all of whom should be prepared for one stupefying, maniacal experience.

-Dan Lett, April 20th, 2004