Apparently devoid of any
proper human aspects, Kraftwerk’s music has nevertheless
conquered Europe and, to a lesser extend, the US, over
the last thirty or so years, inspiring generations of
musicians, from the Depeche Modes or Human Leagues of
the early eighties to the Aphex Twins, Autechres or
LFOs of the early nineties to the most recent waves
of electronic musicians to take control of their destiny
and feed on their innovations. Yet Kraftwerk have voluntarily
kept away from these various scenes, continuing their
own progression and asserting their status as innovators.
Similarly, their shows appear to lack the essential
ingredients that usually make for extraordinary performances.
No interaction with the crowd, no clear communication
between themselves, no staged gimmick. This cold, almost
inhuman approach has largely contributed to create the
live equivalent of the imagery conveyed through their
albums covers and music.
Apart from the odd single or live appearance, Kraftwerk
had pretty much disappeared from sight for the last
seventeen years. As their fans had almost given up hope
to ever see another new album, Kraftwerk reappeared
out of nowhere in 2003 with Tour De France Soundtracks,
their tenth studio album, released to coincide with
the hundredth anniversary of the legendary French bike
race.
Carefully scanning the most prominent ‘hits’
from their career, Kraftwerk, now made up of founding
members Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider plus
additional members Fritz Hilpert and Henning Schmitz
offer during their current live performances an interesting
overview not only of their music, but also of the evolution
of technology, society and world economy, highlighting
the accuracy of the band’s vision over time.
Articulated around four distinctive sections, the first
part lasting just over an hour, the performance flowed
perfectly from start to finish, with the domineering
screen projections remaining precisely in sync with
the music at all time. If the mechanical aspect of their
music is undeniable, and its preformatted nature offers,
apparently at least, very little margin for improvisation,
there was nevertheless something very human in these
four impeccably dressed middle-aged men playing some
of the most innovative and progressive music heard in
the last three decades.
Dressed in full black suit, red shirt and black tie,
Kraftwerk kicked off their first Brixton Academy performance
perfectly on time with the 1978 classic The Man
Machine. Appearing as static and detached from
everything as one would expect, the quartet went on
to execute everything from the recent Expo 2000,
Tour De France, Elektro Kardiogramm
or Vitamin to the quintessential Autobahn,
The Model, Neon Light, via the superb
re-interpretation of Radioactivity, Trans
Europe Express and Metal On Metal without
even a glance exchanged between them.
Returning for what appeared at first as an encore,
Kraftwerk seemed to concentrate in this second, shorter,
part on their early eighties repertoire with Computer
World, Numbers, Pocket Calculator
and Home Computer.
Yet, despite having gone through an impressive selection
of songs, perhaps their most emblematic track, the one
that defined the irony of their work, was still missing.
After a short silence, music started again while strobe
lights flashed behind the curtain, making up the shape
of the robots, which have been part of the band’s
act for over a decade. The curtains opened under a thunder
of applause, revealing the automates in all their splendour,
standing firmly behind the keyboards in place of the
band. Despite the lack of human beings, The Robots,
in its 1992 shape, played for a full ten minutes, raising
more than ever the question of whether this live performance
had been even slightly live at all. Yet, this is exactly
what the crowd wanted, and this is what Kraftwerk gave.
Returning for the last leg of this totally unique audio-visual
art performance, this time wearing Tron-like overalls,
Kraftwerk concluded with a handful of tracks from Tour
De France Soundtracks, finally bringing the performance
to a close with Music Non Stop, with members
of the band leaving the stage one by one, eventually
leaving the stage empty, while the music was still playing.
Totally strange and unique, this audiovisual installation
demonstrates the lasting appeal of Kraftwerk’s
music and its timeless quality. Yet, if the band’s
records are, in most part, superb pieces of sonic experimentation,
their compositions take a whole new dimension when so
carefully staged. If nothing seems to really happen
at all, it is simply an illusion. Despite the lack of
noticeable movement or interaction, the presence of
the band is intrically linked to that of the music and
visuals, creating a multi-dimensional performance that
cannot leave anyone untouched. |
