Colston Hall, bristol, June 17, 2017
Do androids dream of electric blankets?
ONCE rare as comets, Kraftwerk tours have become increasingly regular over the past decade. More accessible and yet more mysterious than ever, the band’s third run of British shows in five years is the latest iteration of their ever-evolving 3D spectacle. Disillusioned old-school fans may deride the Dad’s Army of technopop as a creatively sterile heritage act, but there are screaming millennials in Bristol who were not even born during their late-’70s peak. Their mesmerising brand of sublime banality clearly has pan-generational appeal.
Judged by pop norms, of course, Kraftwerk can be easily faulted for their Betamax futurism, their thin latterday output and their endless reworking of ancient source material. But judge them as a living, breathing, constantly self-refining artwork and they are peerless. Decades in development, this immersive live show is the richest Kraftwerkian experience yet, a ravishing sensory feast that combines painstakingly sculpted sound design, exquisite visuals, absurdist comedy and a potent undercurrent of human emotion.
And still, it appears, a work in progress. As Ralf Hütter and his faceless cyborg minions line up behind their computer consoles, minor tweaks in their audiovisual arsenal are evident even since 2013. Pleasingly, the 3D imagery is becoming less literal, less baldly illustrative. The boxy lyrical slogans of “Computer World” and “Computer Love” still appear to vault from the screen and dance through the air, but nowadays they hover over lustrous shape-shifting patchworks of vivid colour. “Airwaves” is especially striking, its lubricated electro-disco throb accompanied by monochrome acoustic wave patterns that loop and twist and intertwine, like funky cousins of Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures sleeve. Simple and beautiful.
Maybe it’s the post-Brexit mood, but “Trans-Europe Express” no longer feels like a Utopian paean to borderless continental unity. Instead it assumes a more noir-ish shade to match its stark new visual backdrop of ghostly night trains criss-crossing an endless black void. This seminal metal-bashing track always had a hard industrial edge, but tonight it borders on gothic as Hütter vamps on those haunted-house organ chords over eerie Doppler effect sighs. There are agreeably unlikely echoes of Black Sabbath here.
Strikingly, the more recent material feels the most dated. While “Autobahn” and “The Man-Machine” have the monumental robustness of modern design classics, post-rave compositions like “Aerodynamik” now feel as outmoded as the band’s Matrix-era LED suits. Innovators should never be imitators.
That said, Kraftwerk also deploy kitschy nostalgia with deliberate, self-conscious irony. The trancey cosmic synth undulations of “Spacelab”, a thrilling reminder of the band’s Krautrock roots, is framed by an antique spaceship interior and a crudely rendered cartoon flying saucer that touches down outside Colston Hall itself – self-spoofing Kraftwerk humour, customised for each venue on the tour.
Some insiders have hinted this could be Kraftwerk’s last British visit. Which seems unlikely considering the streamlined, lucrative, ecstatically reviewed touring machine they have become in recent years. But Hütter turns 71 in August. Does he never consider cosy retirement? Do androids dream of electric blankets? Will he send the band’s robotic replicants out on the road instead, as he half-joked in the past? Given the riotous reception that “The Robots” receives in Bristol, its whooshing rave-era remix accompanied by twirling dummies, that sci-fi fantasy no longer seems too fanciful. Fully automated luxury communism with a disco beat? Yes please.
Normally tight-lipped and poker-faced, Hütter proves unusually chatty in Bristol, dropping several deadpan quips into the set. “Are there any clubs in Bristol?” he muses during the now-traditional finale of “Music Non-Stop”, when he remains onstage alone, stabbing at his keyboard as if to show doubters that Kraftwerk’s serene machine symphonies are not entirely preprogrammed. He ends with hearty thanks, hand on heart, bowing to an enraptured crowd. He looks exhausted but elated. Human after all.