Kraftwerk: Pop Pioneers of Electronic Music

Random notes on Chapter 3: Kraftwerk and the Electrification of Modern Music 
from Future Days: Krautrock and the Building of Modern Germany by David Stubbs (2014)

Many Germans probably object to the krautrock moniker for the obvious reason it is an ethnic slur. Equivalent to, say, calling British rock Limey-rock or French rock Frog-rock. And coming from Brits (John Peel, Ian Macdonald, or Brit advertisers used the krautrock term first, it's not entirely clear) probably makes the term an even more annoying dig to a German. But another objection to the krautrock label could be that a lot of the early records that get thrown into that marketing bucket were not in fact very rockin' or rock-like music at all. 

Much of krautrock in its heyday, 1968-1975, was more instrumental, soundtrack-like sounds, more ambient, more post-rock, or even anti-rock. Can and Faust owe obvious musical debts to the Velvet Underground. So rock music. Schmidt says the presence of vocalists Mooney and Suzuki in Can's early years decisively turns the band's music towards rock. Sometimes I can mistake Amon Duul ii for a Brit prog rock band. But Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh, Ash Ra Tempel, Cluster, and Klaus Schultz, the latter a pervasive figure on the experimental ambient instrumental soundtrack side of krautrock in its beginnings, called a compilation of their music that came out in 1972, Kosmische Musik (or 'cosmic music'). And Kraftwerk, originally calling themselves the Organisation, are the models or pop kings, the "Showroom Dummies" of this more electronic and downtempo ambient side-- and possibly more revolutionary side?-- of krautrock. (1) 

Kraftwerk were formed in Dusseldorf in 1970 by Ralf Hutter and Florian Schneider. I think I've always thought of them as a group I admire more for their influences than their actual music. Devo, Talking Heads, New Order, and The KLF, all obviously influenced by Kraftwerk, are personal faves. Klaus Dinger and Michael Rother of Neu! begin in Kraftwerk, and as I've mentioned before Dinger was a major influence on Kraftwerk's version of the motorik sound. No doubt Kraftwerk were true pioneers of electronic music, synth-pop, Goth, electro, EDM, or really almost any other flavor of electronic pop music. Gary Numan's "Cars" (1979). Human League's "Don't You Want Me" (1981). Martin Gore of Depeche Mode credits Kraftwerk as the "godfathers" of electronic pop music. Their legacy is remarkably widespread. But my first teen exposure to Kraftwerk was more passive and relatively indifferent. I had a school friend that played the Autobahn album all the time. That song and "Showroom Dummies," about the only Kraftwerk songs I remember from the '70s, were funny and I kind of liked them as a novelty songs but I didn't like them enough to buy their albums. 

The first Kraftwerk single I actually got physically excited about and went out and purchased was  a 12" single version of "Tour de France," which appeared prominently in the 1984 hiphop movie Breakin'. The song is now known widely as Breakdance, as in the song origin of breakdance music. They put out an album called Tour de France Soundtracks in 2003, elaborating on the EDM associations in Kraftwerk's electronic sound. It was actually hiphop founding godfather Afrika Bambaataa's praise of Kraftwerk in the early '80s that got me to eventually give Kraftwerk a second and closer listen. 

Trans-Europe Express (1977) is perhaps their best, my favorite anyway, an electronic road/train song theme or two and a seamlessly gloomy electro Goth soundtrack. On the album "Hall of Mirrors" is a dramatic prelude to "Showroom Dummies," the song I'd only known as a radio single. And the whole second side, "Trans-Europe Express," "Metal on Metal," "Abzug," "Franz Schubert," and "Endless Endless" melds into one immaculately dark synth-pop suite of music. Their rock and anti-rock tendencies in perfect tension. 

That said all their peak run of albums in retrospect, Autobahn (1974) to Computer World (1981), have their moments and seem to effectively burnish Kraftwerk's robotics and cybernetics pop mystique one way or another. I can see Kraftwerk fans getting behind any one of these five albums, preference based mostly on timing, when and how they came to find the album. I think another old music pal used to rank Computer World (1981) his favorite Kraftwerk album in more or less these terms. And "Numbers," off that album, is a touchstone for early '80s Detroit techno and all kinds of later '90s EDM. Carl Craig, second wave Detroit techno pioneer, said of this vintage of Kraftwerk, "they were so stiff they were funky." Anyway, "Numbers" in the early '80s Black dance music context is not to be missed. 


To be honest, though, in my most recent check-in with the Kraftwerk catalog I still found myself reaching most for Kraftwerk's first two experimental albums, the least familiar to me, and especially Kraftwerk 2 (1972). No motorik tempos, more flute, even some guitar; absolutely minimum words, strictly experimental and generally chaotic. Meandering and slow building jams eventually reach these momentary peaks and then recede again like the tide. Maybe a precursor to Einstürzende Neubauten, the '80s German industrial band? Lots of bell ringing clanks and industrial like atmospherics anyway. Hypnotic and, again, vaguely psychedelic.  


I never caught up with Kraftwerk's funky appeal until late but can see now their dark gothic melodicism, always in evidence, was maybe their greatest lasting influence. Anyway, they were a significant influence on Goth and hiphop and electro and EDM, that's a pretty impressive legacy. But I guess I'm still admiring them most for their influence and not how personally satisfying I find playing their records. 

Footnotes:

1. Apparently, later, Schulz is dismissive of the 'kosmiche musik' name as too corny and sci-fi. Hawkwind indulge in this even worse-- corny sci-fi allusions, I mean-- but like 'space rock' I think 'cosmic music' fits. Or fits as well or better in many instances as krautrock, anyway. Psychedelic tinged German instrumental soundtrack music circa 1968-1975.  

2. Full disclosure, Bam, an old school hiphop music favorite, has now posthumously, he died in April, been charged with sexual abuse of several under age boys. Ugh. 

Another Greatest Living American Songwriter Ignored by The NY Times

The NY Times put together this list of 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters last spring and people got mad about it on substack. Some jazz piano guy I don't know wrote this screed about the travesty of Billy Joel not making the list when pop drivel like Taylor Swift did. I wasn't surprised by another old geezer hating on Swift's music. I know old guys who bristle at the mere mention of her name. Why? They feel obligated to like her music and they're rebelling against that obligation is my pop psychology take. This is a reflex in all old people, or dad rock era types anyway, and it's magnified by Swift's massive popularity. By contrast, I'm no Swiftie by any stretch,  but I am as senior citizen too and I like a lot of Taylor Swift's music. 

So the hating on TS part of the reaction wasn't surprising to me but someone stumping hard for Joel as an all-time great songwriter? That I did not expect. I actually have a soft spot for Joel's Glass Houses (1980). A timing thing, mostly: "Glass Houses" was New Wave when I thought that was a new and cool and fun exciting thing. I knew Joel had a couple big chart songs in the '70s as well. Undeniably big pop songs and still those kind of big pop songs, I'll add, that sound gratingly overplayed if I'm not in the right mood. Anyway, I've maybe never heard any of his albums after Glass Houses and only know any of his later stuff by its exposure on the radio, none of which left any impression. I know he got married to the model Christie Brinkley at some point and, I guess, assumed he lived happily ever after in Florida, playing at the elegantly appointed piano bar in his house. Anyway, easy call for me, Swift over Joel. 

But these lists are so damn divisive online. The NY Times list does specify 'living' songwriters, so the list was at least a little bit like those retrospective appreciations at the Academy Awards. A primary objective, presumably, was to honor special artists, songwriters, before they die. Billy Joel is getting up there. Swift is in her 30s. So now by preferring Swift's music in this comparison I'm picking on another old guy!  

By my count 22 of the 30 songwriters on the list, several of the 30 songwriters are two or three person songwriting teams, fit my crude lifetime achievement award criteria: over 50, most of their hits scored in the 20th century; 1960s-1990s. Of the eight 21st century songwriters that make the list, Swift, Fiona Apple, Bad Bunny, a Brandy Clark trio of country songwriters, Kendrick Lamar, Lana Del Ray, Romeo Santos, and Young Thug, I'm guessing a better case for Joel could have been made against several of these young songwriting contenders. Guessing because I don't know Santos at all, and Bad Bunny very little. And, from what I do know, elevating Young Thug over Rakim or The Bomb Squad or Eminem or J. Cole or Prince Paul or Noname, and probably many others I can't think of right now, does not speak well for the state of contemporary hiphop or at least its critical appreciation. And Apple and Lamar are personal favorites, so I wouldn't recommend challenging them. Or why not argue for Joel over Diane Warren or Mariah Carey, two legacy inclusions whose songwriting claims strike me as suspect at best? 

In fact, I maybe come to this list with some antiquated ideas about songwriting. I was thinking songwriting was mostly about the words or the word-smithing aspects of songwriting. So I never thought of Niles Rodgers or Babyface or Jam & Lewis (although I see now they get credit for co-writing Janet Jackson's "When I Think of You," which I've always adored) as songwriters so much as musicians and record producers. I love Rodger's Chic and think they are still criminally underrated, failing to get into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame for years, but I would never contend words or lyrics were Rodger's or Chic's strong suit. Nor Mariah Carey, for that matter. I always thought the generic quality to her hooks were a major weakness. I don't like Paul Simon's music much but I at least recognize word-smithing is his thing; "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," etc. It seems like the NY Times list was conflating songwriting with hit making. 

Not that I mean to suggest I'm some great judge of songwriting. I can't recite lyrics and with most my favorite pop songs I connect with little more than a hook chorus or hook phrase or two of words. And as I've pointed out before, my listening preferences have only drifted further away from any appreciation of words or lyrics in music as I get older. But I still like to listen to good songwriting, words and music, now and then and I still think the NY Times list leans way too much on the charts and thereby undervalues the actual art of songwriting lyrics. I mean, Smokey Robinson, Missy Elliot, Stephin Merritt, sure, but Mariah Carey and Lionel Richie? Really? 

Nearly every music person I know has a favorite living songwriter not on this list, including: Swamp Dogg, George Clinton, Randy Newman, Jonathan Richman, Tom Waits, Todd Rundgren, Patti Smith, Chrissie Hynde, Kate Bush, Madonna, Paul Westerberg, Mekons, Lauryn Hill, PJ Harvey, Boots Riley, Amy Rigby, Jason Isbell, Vincent Neil Emerson, Bill Calahan, etc. Anyway, my point is there's a lot of them. And, admittedly, as I rattle them off I realize added difficulties for the poor rock/pop critics at the NY Times: who is still living anyway (I wasn't sure about Rundgren and had to look it up) and only Americans (so no Neil Young or Bush or Mekons or Harvey, I was getting carried away there), but still their list, a little ironically given it's the top of journalism's word-smithing hierarchy, seems to belittle the actual art of songwriting lyrics. 

And here's another case in point: James McMurtry. Son of western novelist Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove, etc), a songwriting words or lyrics guy born and bred. And whom I recently saw at the Tractor Tavern. 

Going I wondered aloud to a friend whether my relative unfamiliarity with McMurtry's entire 14 album catalog might hurt my experience hearing him live. McMurtry's baritone on record is a little pedestrian, it won't break any hearts, but live its rich and gravelly clarity is a perfect storytelling instrument. Even the songs I knew revealed more in person. 

I first became aware of McMurtry's "We Can't Make It Here." (2005), making the rounds during the Great Recession by word of mouth or music critics. His first album is called Too Long in the Wasteland (1989), and it was produced by John Cougar Mellencamp. It's a model of that '80s rock sound that took over or at least expanded the palette of popular country music in the '90s. His guitar guy, Tim Holt, adds an exquisite drony thickness to a jangly Americana sound. McMurtry put out a single in 2015 called "Forgotten Coast." His last three albums, Complicated Game (2015), the Horse and the Hounds (2021), and The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy (2025), might reflect a more mature McMurtry, more big picture, more philosophical. 

The place, "here," in his songs could be anywhere, Austin, San Antonio, Alaska, Coeur d'alene, Florida, Detroit, the Rust Belt deaths-of-despair deindustrialization that appeared in the 1980s and turned into an opioid epidemic in the '90s and metastasized into a political movement in the 2010s. McMurtry is the drifter trying to get by, trying not to get pulled under, every now and then hitting on these perfect song postcards from the wasteland.  

"The Sons of the Second Sons," 




Roots of EDM: E2-E4, Manuel Gottsching, 1981

 


Recorded in 1981, a foundational record of Techno and EDM ('80s and '90s) music genres. Exudes that hypnotic chill-out vibe that would become pervasive in '90s dance music. Gottsching has some classical training on guitar but turned to improvisatory rock in the 1970s, forming Ash Ra Temple with Klaus Schulz (Tangerine Dream) in 1971. More pioneering krautrockers. If you like minimalism or Eno and Byrne's My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, 1981, same year as this record, you will like this. High-speed electric train to Nirvana. Om or Aum!