Kraftwerk

It has to be said right away: this is a concert that lends itself more to storytelling or reportage than to criticism. Anyone who loves or appreciates Kraftwerk, on the evening of March 22, 2004, had the chance to recognize and rediscover, even after all this time, every characteristic (and every song, of course!) that feeds this passion. Anyone who has always detested them will have found in this performance every reason they've ever had to speak badly of them. Although the obvious question arises: so why go and see them at all?

I won't dwell on introductions, since Kraftwerk certainly need none, but I will say that what's rather surprising is the makeup of the audience, decidedly on in years: the twenty-somethings of 1977, let's say. One man even brought his son along, on whose face, even before the concert began, you could read the full range of expressions associated with boredom and lack of interest. Once the concert starts, the boy — the only minor in a room holding about a thousand people — will also put on an admirable display of yawning. But never mind, this youngster has no idea what living legend is about to perform in front of him, and, for that matter, the aforementioned living legend hasn't done anything to bring new youth to it either. So here we are, seated and ready for this evocative rite. And here the story begins... Or should I write it with a capital S?

A metallic voice, filtered through the vocoder, introduces Kraftwerk while the curtain is still closed, and it's still closed when the (unfamiliar) music starts and suddenly a few red lights project the shadows of the four onto the curtains. The crowd explodes as they start to figure out which track has been chosen to open the concert and, finally, the curtain. What could the machine-men possibly open with if not "The Man Machine" itself? Dressed as on the cover of the album of the same name, but also wearing black jackets, the four men from Düsseldorf stand in a row in front of the audience, each behind his own station, which includes a computer and other well-hidden, and therefore unidentifiable, objects. You can just about make out a small keyboard at Hütter's station and a pair of headphones (destined, incidentally, never to be used) at Schmitz's. Worth noting, for those interested in music technology, a detail that could become — or may already be — a real trend: for the second time in a row I see Sony Vaios used instead of the customary Macintosh. As you might guess, apart from rare exceptions, it's impossible to tell who's doing what. Truth be told, it's also hard to establish how much is already done (read: pre-recorded) and how much is being done live, but that's not really the point of a Kraftwerk concert. This is about sounds, not technique.

The second track is an instantly recognizable "Expo 2000", stripped of any reference to the Hannover World Expo of which it was the official anthem. What remains front and center, all the more so, is that quintessentially Kraftwerk-ian sequence of notes that had raised hopes for a studio comeback better than the one that "Tour De France Soundtracks" turned out to be. Then comes the moment for the latest addition to the Kraftwerk family: in sequence come a none-too-thrilling "Tour De France Etape 1", an amusing "Vitamin" and a pleasant "Tour De France". Even though these are hardly the band's masterpieces, there's no boredom to be found. The class is still there, and the guys (ahem... gentlemen, rather) still know what they're doing. They maintain their robotic composure and betray not the slightest emotion, except for Hütter, who moves his legs in time with the music and sings with a hand almost permanently raised to his mouth. "Vitamin" no longer has the naive air it had on record. After the doping scandals of recent years, it was impossible to believe cyclists were only boosting their bodies with a few vitamins... Not even the four men on stage seem to buy that fairy tale much tonight, judging by the cascades of pills accompanying the song on the big screen. It's fun to let go and join in the game with Hütter: "carboïdrat proteìn... A Be Ze De vitamìn". "Tour De France" too, aided by evocative period (and epic) footage, holds up just fine. Then the beauty of the concert really takes flight...

Darkness in the hall. Silence. The sound of a car starting up. Here it goes... No, wait, the engine stalls. Another try... Nothing. One more time... The car finally starts. Slowly, a voice spells out the magic word: "Au-to-bahn". On screen appears the sign for the motorway entrance. Have you ever seen anyone get thrilled about entering a motorway? Well, I have — an entire Grand Rex. Two or three people even burst into full Beatlemania-style scenes. Kraftwerk's motorway rolls beneath our ears as images from Emil Schult's cover art and old car advertisements flash by. Hütter tweaks a few notes of the vocal here and there, but otherwise everything you'd want from a live "Autobahn" is there, no small feat considering the version performed lasts ten minutes rather than the canonical twenty-two. Never has a "fahr'n fahr'n fahr'n" sounded so much like a "fun fun fun". It closes with the motorway exit sign.

They don't even give us time to fully process what just happened before launching into "The Model". It's one ovation after another, as we let ourselves be carried away by music that's eternal despite being barely thirty years old. In the background, old images of models. The emotion continues with a very long "Neon Lights", bittersweet and hypnotic. This hymn to the warmth of the coldest lights in the world retains all of its charm, undiminished. End of the gems? Not at all. "Radioactivity" is introduced by a speech about Sellafield. The song has clearly been given a facelift. The irony has been toned down, in favor of a more direct message: "Stop radioactivity". The bass, turned up extremely loud, makes everything in the room shake, audience's insides included. The "good vibrations" the Beach Boys once sang about? Toward the end the tempo speeds up, though the seductive melody remains intact.

The first, thrilling part of the concert closes with nothing less than "Trans-Europe Express", complete with "Metal On Metal". Meanwhile, on the screen split into three equal parts, images of the TEE train follow one another, as if it had really existed. The combination of this footage of a train that in 1977 could have seemed futuristic and plausible, and the music, a perfect translation of that feeling — more optimistic and confident than utopian — has a very strange effect. A possible future seen from the real future, and there's probably not that much to celebrate, except for the beauty of the music and its shimmering sounds, combined with the peculiar Kraftwerk mythology, here in one of its finest expressions ever.

When they come back on stage, they've swapped their ties: the new one has a strip of light-up LEDs that flash on and off in sequence. This section is entirely devoted to the 1981 work, "Computer World", from which they perform three tracks. It opens with "Numbers", during which the computers controlling the images projected on the big screen run into problems. The result is that, instead of the planned animations, we see a few windows and the Windows logo. Even if unintentionally, Kraftwerk once again show us the human side of the machine... "Computer World" is a friend it's nice to catch up with tonight, but the audience clearly prefers "Pocket Calculator" by a wide margin, helped along by the part sung in French. Then the curtain closes again. When it reopens, Kraftwerk are no longer there. In their place, the legendary robots in their likeness. And it's they who perform (hmm, or maybe it's the four of them backstage...) "The Robots". What's striking, besides an audience as warm and engaged as you'd never have imagined at a Düsseldorf group concert, is their ability to give the crowd exactly what it expects, exactly when it expects it, without ever coming across as trite or predictable. Credit goes to the rarity of their appearances, but above all to an exceptional ability to blend the artistic side of popular music with the spectacular.

What's still missing from the roster? Did someone say "the skin-tight suits with the phosphorescent stripes"? Exactly, and it's wearing precisely those that Kraftwerk return to the stage in flesh, bone and microchip. The final encore brings a not-exactly-outstanding "Elektro Kardiogramm", but let's be honest: who cares? It's the chance to take photos of the band, to reflect and to be happy just to be there, and to know that they're still the same as ever, that the technological magic still works like a charm. Perhaps carried away by the crowd's excitement, or perhaps because it fits so seamlessly into this concert's skillful blend, even "Aéro Dynamik", the brand-new single fresh off release, sounds good. Everything comes to an end, though, and this concert is no exception to that rule. After more than two hours, our heroes offer us...

What's missing? A track from “Electric Cafe”? What could be a more fitting finale? Indeed, introduced by a hint of “Boing Boom Tschak” (practically the whole thing), it's “Musique Non Stop” that gets the job of closing the show, and it does so with class and elegance. One by one, they leave the stage, each leaving behind a computer still switched on and still able to replay the programmed sequences. Schneider goes first, dropping his rigid stillness to wave goodbye with both arms. Then, in turn, Hilpert and Schmitz follow. Hütter is left alone onstage, and thanks the crowd aloud before he too walks off. What remains is the music and the slogan “Musique Non Stop”, repeated endlessly. It keeps going as the curtain falls, and follows us all the way to the exit.

What else is there to say, then? Kraftwerk have confronted their own legend with respect and intelligence, and come out victorious. The winners, of course, are them as artists and us as an audience.

Ride the wave of great music

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