Tracy + the Plastics

"Electroclash" is almost as dirty a label as "emo" these days. A reference to any pretentious art-school grad with a drum machine, neon '80s wardrobe, and a synthesizer, the movement earned heavy press hype, which in turn created a lingering backlash. Nevertheless, calling one-woman show Tracy + the Plastics just another lame electroclash buzz band minimizes the true creative aspect of her tunes.

Hailing from grrrl-powered Olympia, Washington, the former Wynne Greenwood's crisp beats rank among the most militaristically minimal of modern artists, while her severe synth creases and seductive coos and whispers are ideal for fans of Peaches, the Need, and even Sleater-Kinney. Her live show separates the poseurs from the fiercely protective new-wave updaters, however: Video screens project "The Plastics," a.k.a. Tracy's alter egos, as Tracy herself sings along, creating a multiple-personality keyboard fragmentation that's as artsy and renegade as anything MTV used to play, back when becoming a video star actually meant something.