It made perfect sense for French beat-head Kid Loco to dedicate one of his albums to both Jimi Hendrix and Andrew Weatherall. In the techno scene, Weatherall dwells in just as lofty a realm as Hendrix does in the rock world.

As a club DJ he has been a prominent U.K. figure since the '80s; as a remixer he hasgiven his golden touch to everyone from the Happy Mondays to the Orb and New Order and as a producer he was responsible for the blissed vibe of Primal Scream's anthemic "Screamadelica." As an artist in his own right he has brought us the dub-wise grooves of the now-disbanded Sabres of Paradise and, in recent years, the twisted electro grooves of Two Lone Swordsmen.

As a sort of electronica godfather, Weatherall was in Tokyo Nov. 24 to take part (with the other Lone Swordsman, Keith Tenniswood) in Electraglide at Makuhari Messe in Chiba. Attracting approximately 20,000 music fans, it was perhaps one of the biggest techno events in Tokyo's clubbing history. It was also a scenario considerably different from the acid house/techno movement of the late '80s from which Weatherall the DJ emerged.

"There were perhaps 200 people inside and more outside who couldn't get in," Weatherall says of gigs in the early days. "Those that couldn't get in went away and made their own club night, and it went on from there until we reach the size of an event like this. A logical progression," he says, grinning (something he tends to do a lot of).

The Electraglide line-up was a who's who of the world techno mafia -- if anything it was too much to take in on one night. After all, who could choose between Two Lone Swordsmen in the DJ pool and Underworld on the main stage, or later in the evening, between Luke Slater in the main room and Richie Hawtin (a k a Plastikman) in the DJ pool? Then there was Orbital playing before the majority of the audience had even arrived. A large number came to see Underworld, currently riding a big wave of popularity, but the more informed section of the crowd came for Two Lone Swordsmen.

Over a relentless flow of crunchy beats and dirty grooves, Weatherall manically mixed in live dubbed-up samples on the turntable, producing a high-tension roller coaster ride of mad spurting noises. With the two biggest influences in their music being dub and electro, one could expect a strange gap between the roughness of dub and the plastic sheen of electro. But there is no such contradiction, since their approach to electro is unique in its earthiness.

"There is a lot of electro out there that is just trying to sound like the '80s, that machine-sound. I can't see the point of that. Our drum machines run on gas and water, and they break down," he joked. "We are taking the past and making a new future, but I like my future a bit imperfect. We just lay our hands on anything -- old records for sampling, bits of equipment, drum machines, anything. We just try things out and see what we come up with."

Their hands-on approach to trackmaking provides the opportunity for the "analog mistakes" that don't occur so easily when working completely digitally. "When making music I get a tingle, I don't want to lose that tingle," Weatherall says.

Weatherall met Tenniswood just before the Sabres of Paradise disbanded. Weatherall says he'd seen him around, doing sound engineering, and that he seemed to have the necessary skills and ideas. He found out later it was partly bravado. "He made out he was more qualified than he actually was," Weatherall says, laughing.

After two weeks in the studio of "messing about with loads of cheap old records to sample," they completed their first album, "The Fifth Mission."

Being on the same wavelength seems to be the most important thing to Weatherall, along with the fact that they're having a good time.

"We sometimes spend a lot of time listening to other music, and playing golf games on the computer when we should be recording," he says, chuckling. Their new label, appropriately called Rotters Golf Club, will be releasing both their own productions and those of new young artists.

"I could release tracks by more famous artists and perhaps sell more copies, but what's the point? I'd rather help kick-start some new people."

This motivation to encourage promising talent is also the driving force behind his occasional London club nights. Despite his own sterling track record, he still modestly considers himself to simply be a music fan.

"There is just so much good stuff out there," he says, and even if he doesn't realize it, a lot of it bears his influence.