The then-lowbrow shotgun wedding of dub reggae and hip-hop that gave birth to drum ‘n’ bass in the early nineties could never happen in today’s serious dance-music scene, where every D.J. has an auteur complex. But on Green Velvet (F-111/Warner Bros.), the Chicago-based producer of the same name delivers techno that’s both innovative and wickedly absurd. Over strafing percussion that gives his thumping beats an unusually funky kick, Green Velvet cackles mischievously as he offers a guided tour of the rave scene for outsiders unfamiliar with its pharmacology (“Flash”) and replays voice mails from ex-girlfriends and angry landlords (“Answering Machine”). He’s the new mad professor of electronica, hopped up on his own nuttiness.