A fresh-ish industrial sound, beyond the Cleopatra/Metropolis vein, not-quite Prodigy, not-quite C-Tec mix, something to appeal to the new-bombed dance punks.
Ad Rock and some other dude fuckin’ around on a drum machine/sampler and a Casio. If you accept the kitsch and try not to be so cynical, it’s pretty fun.
Ministry and Revolting Cocks guys, but instead of guitars, you get cello. Instead of bass, you get piano. Instead of drums, you get a metronome. And crooning.
Rozz Williams started doing this depressed pompous dark rock schtick back in high school. Apparently, the fact that he’s now dead hasn’t slowed him down much.
Martin Atkins is the Greg Ginn of the early 21st century, i.e. appearing on just about every release on his Invisible label. One difference: He doesn’t suck.