Industrial may be the worst genre ever. Based on the concept of "noise as music," it has spawned hundreds of boring, pretentious, discordant albums. So many, in fact, that bad industrial has become a genre of its own. 

This isn't fair to bands like Einstürzende Neubauten, who have been smashing windows and splitting pianos in the name of good industrial music for more years than I have been alive. Formed in Berlin around 1980, EN became known for setting fire to their stages, using power tools as instruments, and building their own scrap metal drum sets. Over the years the shows and albums mellowed, but often to the improvement of their deconstructionist sound. Unfortunately, no matter how many jackhammers they brandish, there is probably little they can do to redeem industrial's sullied name or discourage its passé following of Goth rockers (which, financially speaking, would probably be pretty stupid anyway).

Perhaps this is why when I talked to Einstürzende Neubauten's percussionist Andrew Chudy (N. U. Unruh) before their show, he thrice denied the industrial name, despite the fact that his band is revered as its forefather.

"I don't believe in industrial or whatever," he said. "It's not industrial music, it's commercial music. You can download it, you can purchase it, so it's commercial. Go in a factory and hear that noise. You cannot dance to that. What–" he feigned a perplexed look, "–the rhythms are automations? I don't believe so."

On EN's latest "so-called industrial" album, Perpetuum Mobile, Chudy constructed the usual sideshow of new instruments, including a pipe organ and an air cake, which involves a nozzle and some bottles mounted on a record player. Each is only a few days in the making.

"The idea comes to me within five seconds, and then it takes maybe two days to work it off properly. Then we use," he said, shrugging.

Other times they sample household appliances for backing tapes. A dishwasher, for instance, is a "nice idea," Chudy said.

"Jochen [Arbeit, the guitarist] is into washing machines – the programs of washing machines. I think he is going to do an installation, I'm curious to hear it someday. Our aim is to combine everything into music which is possible, not excluding washing machines, dishwashers, or whatever."

These domestic items aren't nearly as dramatic as the jackhammers, which were retired years ago. But Chudy doesn't think fans hope for stage destruction and pyrotechnics anymore.

"They've seen it all," he said.  "I mean like the last time I was using the jackhammer before it got stolen in Copenhagen, I was just holding it up and showing the audience I could use it, but I'm not." Besides, "The accelerating of a drill is nice, but if you keep on drilling you get bored."

Along with pipes and air compressors, Perpetuum Mobile features plenty of standard instruments. And though Chudy says there are "plenty of tones in noise," the harmonic pianos, vibraphones, and guitars on Perpetuum Mobile make it easier to connect with their music.

"It's better to sing to. More people can communicate guitar-wise, bass-wise, and as I told you we have pipes cut to pieces – they produce very nice tones. I wouldn't say it's more mellowed out, but it's one way to reach the listener."

Einstürzende Neubauten has a bizarrely close connection to their listeners, whom Chudy praises as "very intelligent." The band has given fans the option to listen to new music before it is released by broadcasting their rehearsals live from their bunker in Berlin via streaming Web casts. Then fans suggest changes, some of which, Chudy says, are actually implemented.

But this democratic platform is only available to listeners willing to fork up 35 euros, or about 41 U. S. dollars (a CD is included for the money). Twice during the interview Chudy name-dropped their site, and spouted infomercial-like lines about how for only 35 euros they would autograph pictures and ship a CD directly to your house.

Yet selling albums directly to listeners isn't just a financial experiment for EN. It's also a chance to tell their record company to piss off.

"There's no use doing business with record companies," Chudy said. "First of all, they don't pay that much any more.

"In the end we did use distribution from Mute records, just to find our records in the stores. And we liked the idea of the whole infrastructure and doing touring."

EN has been harboring a grudge against the recording industry for a long time, owing to some bad business with Some Bizarre records in 1982. Front man Blixa Bargeld even wrote a hex/song about it, which he always dedicates to the label's owner, Stevo. 

"There's not a lot of trusting in record companies anymore," Chudy said. "So that's why we became more independent, and not dependent on the record companies."

In the next stage of the website, www.neubauten.org, the paying fans or "supporters" will be asked to participate in a concert in Berlin next October. 

"We will ask the supporters to come to Berlin and actually contribute on a so-called ritual performance.  They will build a choir, or they can hit things, we will give them different tasks."

For American fans, flying to Berlin may be the only way to see EN again, as Bargeld revealed at the beginning of the Chicago show.

"At the Metro – I think the first time we played here was about 1986," Bargeld began.

At this, a fan in front wooed loudly, and Bargeld nodded at him pointedly.

"You were there. I remember you – you were there. And you were about two years old. (laughs) But we have played here so many times, and we played in many places in Chicago even before that. And so this is a farewell. This is the last time we play here."

The sea of black-clad fans booed incessantly, and one guy wearing a bowler hat and heavy eyeliner reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange threw his empty cup of beer. Bargeld waved them quiet.

"We cannot afford playing in the United States of America any longer," he said. "We can't. So please enjoy this show as much as you all can."

We did.