| Kraftwerk
never do things the way other people do. That's one of the things that makes
them legends. Not the only thing mind you. Their live performances, infrequent
at best, are also the stuff of legend. The records, too. Elegant, sleek,
timeless works of art that still sound like they come from 25 years in the
future when they were made 25 years ago. |
| From
the opening seconds of the cinematic, impressive "The Man Machine", to the
closing bars of the graceful, futuristic "Music Non Stop", this is the stuff
of legend. In a shroud of darkness, four massive black shilouettes are projected
on a huge canvas that stretches up to the ceiling of the venue, echoing
performance art from the thirties. And instantly one knows, that this is
Kraftwerk. It's a statement of intent as dramatic as the opening seconds
of Star Wars. |
| So
this is an Event. A genuine, Hit-The-Headlines, front page news Event. It
gets a page all of its own in The Evening Standard : something I've never
seen for a performance by a band for which the phrase reclusive is generous. |
| But
Kraftwerk don't plays live, by any stretch of the imagination. There is
not second of analog sound in the entire set. Immobile, uniform, four anonymous,
reticent German techno pensioners stand behind four tiny Sony VAIO laptops,
surrounded by a massive projection screen, and occasionally one of them
taps his leg. That's about as live as it gets. That's a legend live in front
of your eyes. And despite their allegedly austere presentation, the minimal
lack of communication to the audience and the determindedly synthetic nature
of their music, there are few bands more human than Kraftwerk. |
| For
Kraftwerk are both the man and the machine. The soul inside the CPU. And
it's the little things that show just how human they are: the sly nod and
glance at each other, the way a smile crawls up Ralf's face during some
of the songs, the interaction between each member as they glance to each
other surreptiously in the darkness. The tap of a leg. The wry smile. Sometimes
the little things say so much more the big gestures. |
| See,
for all that everyone looks at Kraftwerk purely as Teutonic Ubergods of
Techno, they fail to realise that Kraftwerk aren't just The Robots: every
song is about the place where man and machine meet. Where man, nature, and
technology interact. Without Kraftwerk, these aging fifty somethings who
somehow invented and defined electronic music, most of the music in the
charts would still be tied to the limited palette of rock. And probably
made by skinny white boys and girls. And it's a far better live show than
any piece of stadium pompousity. Visually the presentation is stunning:
a wall of images that dwarfs U2's Zoo TV Extravanganza. Kraftwerk present
us a vision of the future the way we once saw it - both innocent and cynical
- and also the way it might yet be. A vision of the future from years past.
Constantly evolving and mutating, drawing on child-like simplicity and an
arch knowledge of classic futurism from across the ages. Images change from
simple, playschool blocks of text, animated with a charming, playful naivety,
to retro-futurist images of what could've been. And it's still light years
ahead of anyone else. |
| The
set progresses at an assured, confident pace, as the next number, a dramatic
reworking of "Expo 2000" is far beyond the capabilities of most bands half
their age. After all, with the bands lynchpins Ralf & Florian totalling
115 years of age between them, they should, by now, be resting on their
laurels, releasing greatest hits albums, performing no new material whatsoever,
and generally being lazy, complacent robobastards. Despite some claims,
tonight isn't some nostalgia fest: at least a third of the set comes from
their new album "Tour De France Soundtracks", and almost the entire
remainder of the set from 1991's radical album "The Mix". |
| The
new material they perform, effortlessly integrates into the established
canon of classic tunes that shaped modern dance music. And the new material
doesn't sound like the turgid final last gasp of the creatively bankrupt,
but material that is wonderfully now. The three song, sidelong epic "Tour
De France 2003 Etape" melds seamlessly into "Chrono" and "Vitamin", and
perhaps its part of the fun that Kraftwerk make cycling sound not only sexy,
but also exciting. Thematically, the melting of man and machine in perfect
harmony is as Kraftwerkian a concept as you can get. Where the gears of
machines work in tandem with the finely honed muscles. |
| But
inside the sterile atmosphere of the Royal Festival Hall, this classic auditorium
holding just 1.800 people, there's, at times, less than 1% of the audience
dancing. Ok, well, maybe by the end, there's at best 30 people dancing in
the small section in front of the stage, whilst 1770 people sit in their
seats, passive, British. Venturing to the front of the stage is, in itself,
an amazing experience. It's akin to watching Kraftwerk in your living room.
Observing every last move and gesture by the band themselves. Seeing Henning
trigger samples with his feet, or Ralf gently pick out melody lines on his
keyboard when they're standing a matter of four feet away from you is a
mindfuck. This must be what it's like to see The Beatles rehearse. What
weird is when members of the band look down at you and wonder what exactly
you're doing there, whilst they're powering through the colossal "Radioactivity".
But they're doing amazing things to the song: the opening three or so minutes
are a replica of the original, thirty year old lullaby to the power of FM
radio, before the song suddenly turns itself inside out, shot through the
arm, mutated into a rampaging beast of urgent, apocalyptic, techno: in some
bizarre form of rhythmic meltdown. All you can see are enormous, simplistic
graphics depicting atoms splitting off, reforming, exploding, in a way that
makes it look all so innocuous, even though the graphics are detailing,
scientifically, the release of energy that could eliminate mankind from
the planet. As Lester Bangs rightly stated, Florian looks like someone who
would destroy half of mankind by pressing a button and not even betray a
shred of emotion. Die Mensch Machine Semi Uber-Ding, indeed. You can't help
but feel overwhelmed by the assault on the senses around you. You give in.
You surrender to the music. Because, like the apocalypse, its out of your
hands. |
| But
it's not just what they sound like (even if they sound the way that films
of the distant past always envisaged the year 2001 would look: sleek, beautiful,
perfect). It's the songs that they write: occupying the middle ground between
classical theory and avant garde experimentalism, in a effortlessly dispatched,
seamless performance. The kind of thing that will forever be maintained
in history. But it's a case of sensory overload. Sound envelopes you, surrounds
you. Images bombard you on a huge seamless screen that dominates your field
of vision. The world outside Kraftwerk ceases to exist. |
| Sometimes
even Kraftwerk themselves cease to exist. For the second encore, they don't
even appear on stage. There's a ping. And a whosh. And the curtains part
to reveal, not Kraftwerk themselves, but their electronic Robot doppelgangers,
dancing in harmony like ballerinas, glancing from side to side, as the venue
fills with irresistible rhythms, and massive projected text. Dancing mechanik.
Functioning Automatik. Aerodynamik. It's an utter, utter subversion of everything
you would expect from a concert. A piece of performance art with more balls
than Elton John. And its nuts. It's like going to see, I dunno, U2, and
them having a tribute band playing the encore. It's Nuts. By the final number,
the epic recreation of "Music Non Stop", its increasingly obvious how human
this band are. Each member takes turns for a discreet solo spot - Florian
tweaking the sound effects, Fritz manipulating the rhythms to add a constant,
ever fluctuating beat to the original, minimalistic track, and Henning bending
the bass into all manner of unrecognisable, perverse shapes. And, as each
member finishes his spot, a touching exit. Each member sprints to the side
of the stage, takes a bow, and disappears into the darkness. |
| It's
almost the end. Henning darts from behind his keyboard, beams and waves
at Ralf, and then takes a bow. And then it's just us. Ralf, alone, on stage,
a 58 year old German techno pensioner with a laptop, dress in a luminous
green wireframe robot outfit and sunglasses, surrounded by Robots, like
a child in a toy store. Dancing mechanik. So many bands just become hollow
nostalgia acts, rotating ever changing lineups, anonymous additional musicians,
redundant and cashing in on memories at overinflated £150-a-ticket costs.,
living in some kind of past, performing at best one or two songs from the
past twenty years. Kraftwerk, despite being reclusive perfectionists, are
still pushing forward, still exploring, still looking to the future. Not
many bands deserve the status of being legends. But Kraftwerk are more than
that. They are genius. Music. Non Stop. |
|
|
|
| After
the usual vocoder abstractions reverberate over the barren, black stage,
the curtains are illuminated revealing the projected, iconic-ally familiar
silhouettes as the band ready themselves behind their consoles. The curtains
part and "The Man Machine" from the 1978 album of the same name
begins a set containing virtually no surprises, little having changed since
1991’s The Mix tour. In spite of this there is reason to be grateful, this
being one of the few opportunities much of the audience will have to see
the group again. |
| Traditionalists
might find something dubious in a performance partially controlled by four
laptops, but as Ralf Hütter once envisioned the bands of the future touring
with their instruments in their pockets, this is arguably a vision of progress.
Still, since the last tour featured reassuring banks of synth modules, sequencers
and, vitally, a manual percussion board, this seems a little surprising
given that the aesthetic of machinery has for so long been a definitive
aspect of the Kraftwerk live spectacle. |
| As
a result, the stage appearance now bears a stark focus on the four band
members, attired in black suits, ties and red shirts. A strangely regressive
choice and another signal of the group’s attitude, which fluctuates between
almost complete stasis and occasional, utterly engaging surprise - something
most well represented in the evenings final dramatic costume change. |
| The
traditional layout of four screens suspended above and behind the players
heads is dispensed with in favour of a more expressive and panoramic backdrop
on to which various elements of computer generated imagery and film footage
are projected providing a breathtaking and fittingly hypnotic accompaniment
to the evolving, trance inducing sounds with their lapidary electronic percussion
that cuts the air with a bass-laden power whilst still maintaining a staggering
clarity. |
| After
"Expo 2000", originally composed as a theme for the German Exposition
of that year, and one of the only five new songs included, comes "Etape
1" accompanied by energetic footage of the infamous competition with
animated route lines and tricolour inspired abstractions. The introduction
of "Vitamin", one of the few tracks on the last album, "Tour
De France Soundtracks", to offer something genuinely new, triggers
an endless cascade of computer generated pills and capsules falling in succession
on screen. For all the pounding rhythms, to the misinformed, this may seem
an overt reference to recreational drugs, but all doubt is shattered as
a large white pill comes to fill the screen clearly inscribed with the legend
‘VITAMIN’. The original version of Tour De France follows, introduced with
the rhythmic breathing of a cyclist and inducing particularly rapturous
applause. |
| Hütter
throughout recites the various simplistic mantras raising his hand to his
mouth as if for emphasis, the impassive quality of his voice adding further
to the feeling of entrancement as he moves in measured response to his music,
eyes closed in a state of meditative aloofness. Fritz Hilpert smiles amiably
throughout whilst Florian Schneider, who famously maintains a great disliking
of both touring and live performance remains almost static, his visage significantly
less illuminated than those of the others. |
| For
the inevitable "Autobahn", the screen is filled with idealistic
images of the expansive constructions - some of the stock footage taking
a surprising turn as the age of the film becomes more apparent. Freshly
built roads reminding us of the occasionally ominous mix of man and technology,
a favourite notion of Kraftwerk’s and one most readily outlined as we head
from "The Model" through the sweeping analogue beauty of "Neon
Lights" (a song well translated in digital form, and accompanied by
the glowing forms of distinctly German electronic signs and symbols; UFA,
Mercedes Benz, Nacht Cafe) to "Radioactivity". A firm live favourite,
that begins with the now familiar, admirably direct and menacing electronically
voiced warning on the very real dangers of nuclear power. Following this,
the song begins in the original’s passive, ambient form before detuning
in to its modern techno mutation as an audio-visual anthem to nuclear destruction. |
| The
more affirming, breakbeat pioneering "Trans Europe Express" ends
the first half of the set with nostalgic colour footage regressing in to
grainy film of rails, pistons and, for the proto industrial "Metall
Auf Metall", colliding buffers. The curtains close to the immense applause
Hütter and Schneider have come to expect. |
| The
energetic "Numbers" restarts the show with its frantic counting
as the screen is filled with ZX Spectrum style numerals. After the "Computer
World" trilogy (including It’s More Fun to Compute), "Pocket Calculator"
emerge as the stage becomes immersed in yellow light and Japanese text frames
an image of the electric tool manipulated by a digital hand. Sadly, the
band remain behind their consoles as the Stylophones have been left back
home in Düsseldorf. Another break in proceedings follows, the curtains opening
to reveal the four now replaced by their mechanical counterparts gesticulating
inexpressively as "The Robots" takes over; a subtle message apparent
in the lines ‘we are programmed just to do/ anything you want us to /we
are the robots’. Kraftwerk present a tribute to German (and international)
applications of technology and the marriage of man and machine without forgetting
the dangers this partnership can incur. Following this the band reappear
in their new visual incarnation, decked out in black one piece suits with
green UV enhanced lines criss-crossing their profiles. The set takes on
a more uniform feel as purple and green lines pulsate in response to the
heart rhythms of "Elektro Kardiogramm" in a haze of ultra violet
light. After the current single, "Aerodynamik", "Boing Boom
Tschak" anticipates "Music Non Stop", which closes the show
as the Rebecca Allen computerized graphics that form the basis of the sleeve
design for Electric Café (1986) dance and glide over the backdrop. Each
member leaves the stage one by one after slight intervals, Florian first,
giving a dramatic (possibly grateful) bow, and finally Ralf with a polite
‘Goodnight Manchester’. What is particularly outstanding about Kraftwerk’s
music is the way in which, in the modern live context, despite some reworking,
the overall sound has changed so little yet given so much in terms of overall
influence. Techno existed in 1978 - the beats were just a little less intense. |
|
Review
by Matthew Ibbs - England
|
|
| Kraftwerk
have been touring the UK this week and are now in London playing three concerts.
One at The Royal Festival Hall and two at the Brixton Academy. They haven't
played in London since The Mix tour of 1991 and so myself, along with nearly
3000 others, take our seats in a sold out venue more acustomed to classical
recitals. That said we all hope to hear some of the "classics"
but of a more electronic nature. The reason for Kraftwerk playing here is
that they are one of the acts taking part in the "Ether 2004"
festival, a genre defying mix of electronic, classical and the contempory. |
| So
the lights went down, the cheers and applause became a deafening roar and
we, the audience were on the edge of our seats. The anticipation was electric.
A sillhouetted outline of the four electronic performers appeared on the
curtains. Then the curtains pulled back and there they were... bloody hell,
it's Kraftwerk!!! |
| I
didn't think I'll be sitting here watching Kraftwerk ever again. I only
found out about this concert just by chance last November, and even then
most of the tickets had sold. Most of you will already know the set by know,
suffice to say they played for nearly 2 and half hours of the most beautifully
crafted sound and visuals that I have ever witnessed.The sound was so clean
and pure. You could hear every blip, every effect and quite a lot was in
surround sound which was impressive. But the bass...my God, I don't think
the Royal Festival Hall has been shaken so much since it was built in the
1950's! Being an all seated venue made it difficult to get up and dance,
although those sitting at the front did, that's why I'm also going to the
Brixton gigs to shake my ass, but there was a lot of head shakin' going
on and it did make you appreciate the visuals. Speaking of which, the projections
were astounding. A lot of effort has gone into making this a feast for the
eyes, as well as the ears. Three huge projectors worked in synch with the
music providing a mesmerising array of images comprising of old German stock
footage (Autobahn and Trans Europe Express), lots of cycling footage (Tour
De France old and new versions), and computer generated images (everything
else). |
| Kraftwerk
themselves aren't known for jumping around the stage so it was amusing to
watch Ralf being quite animated throughout the concert. Yes..his right leg
was shaking in time to the beats, he and his fellow co-workers were producing!
Florian took a few sips of water...well I think it was water. The other
two stood pretty motionless but that's what we expect. No "Hey,how's it
hangin 'London??1!" banter between songs from this band thankfully. |
| One
after the other the music just kept coming. All the classics were there
..."The Model", "Autobahn", "Computer World",
"Radioactivity", "Tour de France", "Neon Lights",
"The Man Machine"...as well as the new tracks..."Expo 2000",
"Vitamin", "Aerodynamik" and "Elektro Kardiogramm".
And as soon as they had started it was time for Kraftwerk to leave the stage
while "Music Non Stop" continued to play out. I don't think I've
seen Florian move so quickly as when it was his time to exit stage left.
A little bow and he was gone. |
| Ralph
said "Goodnight, see you at Brixton". And that was it. A brilliant concert
and a feeling that I, along with everybody else who attended, have witnessed
the premier innovators of electronic music. There was a big queue for merchandise
afterwards but I managed to get some posters, the obligatory t-shirt and
a "Man Machine" mouse mat, which is very red! There are many immitators
but only Kraftwerk can put on a show like Kraftwerk do. Now I sit here listening
to "Tour De France Soundtracks" waiting to see them again at Brixton.
I can hardly wait! |
|
Review
by Chris Paynter - England
|
|
| |
| Just
got home after attending all of the Kraftwerk dates in UK. Exhausted but
delighted to have seen all 5 dates. |
| Very
different vibes at each of the gigs as follows: |
| |
| Glasgow.
Madly enthusiastic audience, Kraftwerk looked excited by wild response.
Lots of dancing. Bass volume was simply terrifying! Ralf Hütter - end
of concert message: |
| "Goodnight" |
| |
| Manchester:
Audience more subdued than Glasgow, but another superb performance. Ralf
Hütter end of concert message: |
| "Goodnight...
Are there any good clubs in Manchester?" |
| |
| London
Royal Festival Hall: The best of the UK concerts in my view. Superb acoustics
at this largely classical music venue situated right on the South Bank of
the River Thames with panoramic views of London. Incredible sound, able
to hear every level of detail in the mix. Seated audience but very responsive.
Standing ovation at end of show. Ralf Hütter end of concert message: |
| "Goodnight...See
you in Brixton!" |
| |
| London
Brixton Academy - 8:00 pm show Complete madness, Brixton is a wild, exciting
multicultural area of South London, vibrant pubs, restaurants and bars full
of excited Kraftwerk fans on a mild March Saturday night. Sound not as good
as RFH but a wild audience. Ralf Hütter end of concert message: |
| "See
you at midnight!" |
| |
| Brixton
Midnight Show: Desperate fans outside trying to get tickets. Lots of London
'celebrities' in attendence. The final show was the best for atmosphere
after Glasgow. Concert and UK dates finished at 2:30 am with Ralf saying: |
| "Goodnight...and
Good Morning!" |
| |
| The
music at all dates was incredible. The same set with subtle but fascinating
alterations to the mix from show to show. Ocassional 'glitches' with equipment
and sequencing of videos upset Florian once or twice but the main impression
was of a band who have finally developed a laptop 'portastudio' concept
which enables them to perform night after night to near perfection. |
| Saw
them 3 times in 1991, but this was a different level of music/art installation/exhibition.
Many thanks to all the fans who made the concerts so exciting with their
wild applause. Music Non-Stop! |
|
Review
by Andy Mooney - England
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