With computers filling more and more households and the meteoric rise of interative entertainment, it is no surprise that musicians would eventually seize CD ROMs as an unchartered medium on which to incorporate their music. Following Peter Gabriel's experiments with the technology just a year before, Bush, riding a wave of Nirvana-like popularity with their album, Sixteen Stone, released the "Little Things" Enhanced CD Super Single. Creating one of the first CD-Plus titles ever, Bush have, in a way, become interactive pioneers. But their incorporation of interactive multimedia and music have created a series of questions that, for better or worse, will come to define music as we know it, circa 1995 and well into the next century.

With the future of rock 'n roll on my mind, I step from the plane into Atlanta's monstrosity of an airport. Immediately I'm greeted by a brightly colored billboard bearing the message: "Atlanta '96 Home of the Olympics," and later, while riding the train into the city another billboard that reads: "Atlanta--The Future of America's Business."

Truly a city on the make, Atlanta is preparing to greet the world as an ambassador to the future. The combination of the city's glass and steel skyscraper skyline, and the countless cranes and scaffolding affixed to buildings under construction, is eerily awe-inspring. Traits that marked the agarian way of life in the Old South are far and few between. In the place of mills and factories are the buildings of Southern Bell, CNN, Coastal States, and Coca-Cola which dot Atlanta's skyline much like the Space Needle highlights Seattle and the arch signifies St. Louis.

Nestled between two anonymous office complexes on the north side of the city lies the Fox Theater. A restored playhouse on the outskirts of both Georgia Tech and the business district, the Fox is Atlanta's showcase for visiting ballets, operas, luminaries like Bob Dylan and today, Bush. Catching the band on the last date of their American tour, I can't help but wonder what the members of Bush will be like. Though not in the superstar strata of bands like R.E.M., U2, or Pearl Jam, Bush is arguably one of the most popular and hottest acts in the alternative rock circuit today. Based around Gavin Rossdale's distinctive howl, and marked by a two guitar, bass and drums aural assault, Bush has rocketed up the charts by crafting a hook-filled heavy pop-punk sound.

Formed almost four years ago on the streets of London, Bush drew from the power of punk bands like the Clash and the Damned and the pop sensibility of modern heroes such as Nirvana's Kurt Cobain and Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder. Holding down various rent jobs, such as house painters and ice cream truck drivers, Bush struggled to gain the attention of British record company executives. But to no avail. Basically ignored in England, Trauma Records chief Rob Kahane (ex-manager of George Michael, by the way) signed the band in 1993 and exported the four lads to the States.

Hooking up with Interscope Records, the band cut the now platinum Sixteen Stone. The first single, "Everything Zen" rose to the top of the playlists on alternative rock stations across the country and the rest, they say, is history. A string of hit singles followed: "Little Things," "Comedown," "Glycerine." And to date, just under three million albums have been sold worldwide.

At the Fox, I watch the band run through their pre-show soundcheck. The bass and drums puncture the air while the guitars roar through the empty amphitheater. The sound is ferocious--much like an airplane revving its engines. Bush runs through several extended jams and finishes with their current single, "Glycerine." Backstage, photos are taken and I meet the members. All are noticeably tired. Rossdale, the group's frontman, with dark circles under his eyes, bows out of the interview citing a sore throat and lack of sleep due to an all-night video shoot the day before.

Over a pre-show dinner of meatloaf, carrots, peas and mashed potatoes, Nigel Pulsford, the bald-headed guitarist, entertains at the table while I talk with drummer, Robin Goodridge, and bassist, Dave Parsons. All the members are road weary and are excited about getting back to London for a bit of rest. After dinner, Goodridge, Parsons, and I head off to the band's dressing room to chat, while Rossdale heads toward the tour bus for a nap. Pulsford just disappears.

We sit across a couple of worn beige couches and Parsons lights up a cigarette. With an unobsructed view of the Coca-Cola building through the window of Bush's dressing room, I ask what they think of the current multimedia technology that allowed them to put out the "Little Things CD-Plus."

Parsons exhales a plume of smoke and smiles, "The thing is we're just trying to get what we want to do out there. It's handy. All the things we wanted to do originally, we're doing now that we have the money. We liked the idea of putting out the CD-ROM. You hear about all this technology and it seems like no one has really done anything with it in a really exciting way, with music I mean."

It becomes immediately apparent that both Parsons and Goodridge are pleased with their entry into multimedia. Both musicians praise the ability for fans to augment their Bush collections, but as excited as Parsons is with the medium, he also has some serious reservations about the band's music being enjoyed through a computer. "I think you have t understand that is a completely different medium so it's never going to sound the same if you're standing in the room and you hear BRRRGGGH blasting because there really is no substitute. You have to be there. The energy has to be there. That's always how it will be with live music. There is no alternative. There is no way to get around it."

Shaking his head, Parsons continues, "If you're a real fan, you buy everything, even a shitty bootleg cassette. The quality is really awful but seeing or hearing the band is good enough. But there's no substitute for the real thing. Right now, our CD-ROM would be an addition to your collection, but it's extra. It shouldn't be confused with reality. It'd be really, in five years time, that someone would say the first gig they ever went to was on their computer."

Goodridge, with a wry British manner of perceiving the world, is even more wary that Parsons. Fearful that the future will see the end of human interaction, Goodridge remarks, "It's really just a bunch of images, isn't it? It's like simulated sex and all that stuff," he pauses and smiles. "Shagging a computer or watching a band - you can't beat it, skin, real people."

Neither Parsons or Goodridge want to condemn the computerized future too much, though. After all, Bush does give online interviews, has developed a webpage, and is currently talking to Apple about cutting edge software to use in conjunction with their upcoming album. Subsequently, Parsons positively glows with excitement when talking about the possiblities of the info-highway, "I imagine that sooner or later, when the software becomes cheaper, people will be able to do their own sort of CD-ROM thing or cheap video. Maybe people will be able to make their own videos, put them on the internet, and then other people can download them. Maybe, that's a good thing because MTV won't play them because they haven't sold many records, you'll be able to find it somewhere on the net."

But for all of Parsons' optimism, Goodridge is quick to paint an Orwellian vision of art, especially computer generated art, in a high-tech society. "You can give a kid a CD-ROM of a video, and in some way they'll be able to re-edit it. The same with music. It really can't get into that because at the same time it's like giving someone a painting by an artist and then saying "Re-arrange like you want it," Goodridge snarls. "That's rubbish. You have to respect the artist's finished product. It doesn't work like that. You don't go get yourself a box of paints and then mess with a Rembrandt. There is a finite line that we will get to. We must always fuckin' remember the art is in the conception of the idea and no so much in the ability to re-arrange it."

We continue to discuss the possibilities of music, Bush, and the internet, but I'm still concerned with the future of rock 'n roll and its relationship with technology. After all, Parsons and Goodridge, though cynical, have been talking with Apple and seem ready to explore different technological avenues for their music. They know that the increased ability to communication via the web and internet translates into more people listening to their music - or buying their albums. Cutting of Parsons in mid-ramble, I ask both musicians what effect computers will have on the actual act of creating music.

Goodridge's eyes widen and then he scowls, "Everything we've talking about effects music. A lof of music, like trip-hop and techno, has become very derivative," he says. "People are sampling people and it's coming back in and coming back in. Sometimes, like with Tricky (a pioneer in the trip-hop scene) it's good, but most of the time it's adjusting to the original concepts, diluting them.

"For some reason, when people use technology to make the music they think it's so clever," Goodridge says with his voice rising in excitement. "But really, it's far more clever to actually be a fuckin' musician and master your fuckin' instrument. To stand up there," he waves his arm towards the theater, "and do it every night. That's the difference. That's why bands like R.E.M. and U2 are still here. They can embrace technology, but at the same time, they're artists."

With Goodridge throwing around names like R.E.M. and U2, I ask who Bush views as contemporaries. Little do I realize that I have just opened a literal Pandora's box of anger and defensiveness. Slagged in the press as having a sound that is more Seattle than Liverpool, Bush has had to constantly defend itself against Nirvana comparisons, most being negative. "Listen, we're not just chronic fuckin' Pearl Jam fans like silverchair," he says with a sardonic smile. "We try very hard to avoid that, but obviously there have been people who have drawn certain conclusions about what we are or what we listen to. But our proof will only be when we release the next record and they will see that there is far more diverse sound to Bush than they thought."

Part of Bush's struggle with music critics, Parsons and Goodridge hope, can be avoided in the future through technology. If the world wide web and CD-ROM allow bands to stand on their own two legs without the traditional dependence on record companies and the press, than so be it. But Goodridge warns, "Computer generated art is great, but there are still people who paint on canvas who'll blow your mind every week. We have no fear of computers. In fact, it's great to embrace them, but it has to be taken in perspective, this technology. There is an inherent human quality in non-technology."

With the interview winding down and Bush just two hours from showtime, I ask one final question: "What do you think of Atlanta? After all, it will be the home of the Olympics next summer and it's also one of the most modern cities in America."

Goodridge and Parsons stand, the Coca-Cola building in clear view behind them. Goodridge rubs his chin, "Atlanta's one of the cleanest cities we've been to, with all these modern buildings and such. But you know, it's a bit empty isn't it?"