Agitation Free

More than just a book, "Krautrocksampler" is a totem. Untouchable. It's worth remembering that when it came out in 1995, kraut-rock was hardly à-la page the way it has been in recent years, and it was precisely thanks to those pages penned by Julian Cope, and the fledgling post-rock scene that was sprouting up illo tempore, embracing ideas dear to the Teutonic bands of the 60s/70s, that Germanic-style rock came back (perhaps more than ever before) to get people talking.

So, an untouchable book that, by definition, still leaves itself open to attack. An undertaking by the druid that is, in any case, made clear by the subtitle: "A Personal Guide to the Great Cosmic Music." Personal, and therefore subjective. That there's virtually everything you need to know about kraut-rock in there is another story altogether, since the man lays out its essence better than anyone could. But should one decide to tackle the subject, "Krautrocksampler" - while remaining the primary reference point - does have its flaws, and it must be said. Missing, for instance, are Embryo, who were admittedly more jazz-rock than their peers, but boast a career well worth respect. Or German Oak, who may have a slim discography (just two albums), but wouldn't have looked out of place next to Guru Guru. And then, if there's room for Witthüser & Westrupp and their lysergic folk, why not Sand and Kalacakra too? Simple: it's a personal guide.

Still, while the absence of the above names can be digested, given the peculiar output and characters that ran through it, the failure to include Agitation Free's "Malesch" cries out for revenge.

Kraut-rock was also a territorial matter. If Düsseldorf gave birth to Kraftwerk, Neu! and La Düsseldorf, with Popol Vuh and the Amon Düül commune active around Munich, and with the isolated cases of Wumme for Faust and Cologne's Can, the city that gave the most to the genre, in terms of both bands and solo artists, is certainly Berlin. It was there, within the walls of the Zodiac or the Beat Club, with contributions from men such as the restless Conrad Schnitzler and the academic Thomas Kessler, that Kluster (later turned into Cluster), Ash Ra Tempel, Tangerine Dream and, indeed, Agitation Free took shape.

We're in the mid-60s when, led respectively by guitarist Lutz "Lüül" Ulbrich and bassist Michael Günther, two school bands join forces under the influence of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, effectively sealing the embryo of Agitation Free. If the British Invasion was the initiation (among the covers performed back then, a "2120 South Michigan Avenue" of Stones-ian pedigree), enlightenment would also come from Perfidious Albion: it's 1968 when, like many of their fellow Teutonic acts, the then-Agitation get acquainted with Pink Floyd, and from that moment on their music takes a sharp turn towards freer, more expansive atmospheres. They play regularly at the Zodiac Club, sharing the scene with Tangerine Dream and Cluster, and on stage - after an initial singer, Michael Duwe, whom we'll later find in the Ash Ra Tempel of "7 UP" - they're joined by Manfred Brück aka John L on vocals, a figure known in the local press as "the Hippy King of Berlin," who appeared on stage exactly as his mother made him. Drugs will drive him away from the group (he too will end up in Ash Ra Tempel, elevating "Schwingungen" to the monster it is), just as Axel Genrich (Guru Guru) and Christoph Franke (Tangerine Dream) will migrate to other shores. On the other hand, though, while adding the suffix Free to Agitation in the meantime, along come guitarist Jörg Schwenke, drummer and protégé of Klaus Schulze (who turned down the invitation to join the band) Burghard Rausch, and above all keyboardist and synth player Michael Hoenig.

Without a singer but with a lineup finally settled, Agitation Free take a decisive turn in 1971, during a concert at the Quartier Latin, when approached by an official at the German embassy, they receive an offer for a series of concerts in the Middle East, sponsored by the Goethe-Institut, aimed at spreading German culture through language lessons and cultural events. Them, of all people - who, unlike Tangerine Dream, Cluster and Ash Ra Tempel, hadn't even recorded their debut yet - chosen for such an honor? After some legitimate initial skepticism, the thing goes ahead. It's the cause that will lead to "Malesch."

Throughout April 1972 Agitation Free play in Egypt (Cairo, Alexandria), Cyprus (Nicosia), Lebanon (Beirut), with stops in Greece (Athens) and Libya (Tripoli) too. They soak up cultures and sounds from everywhere, recording voices and music on the spot that strike their ears as fascinating and exotic. In short, if before they were a promising but fairly basic psychedelic band, after this journey things would never be the same again.

So, as soon as they get back home, Ulbrich, Günther, Schwenke, Rausch and Hoenig shut themselves away in a Berlin studio and start improvising, still intoxicated by what they'd just experienced. They have no material to speak of, yet what emerges is a stream of consciousness that, day after day, crystallizes into song. Alongside Uli Popp (from the ranks of the ever-present Ash Ra Tempel), they're joined by Between leader Peter Michael Hamel, a man who knows plenty about applying exoticism to rock.

In the end, the songs on “Malesch” – an Egyptian term inviting one to take seemingly negative events lightly, without worry – would number seven, and once mixed, would be merged with material recorded during the journey.

The opening track is dizzying from the start. In “You Play For Us Today,” a distant spoken voice serves as backdrop to the bass and synth intro, followed by cowbells and organ. The percussion creeps in, as does the guitar. Then the magma erupts. It's a hypnotic collective crescendo that both frightens and captivates – or, more simply, one of the most visionary tracks in all of kraut-rock. The introductory voice is a field recording, just like the belly-dance music that opens “Sahara City,” less dizzying but no less compelling. “Ala Tul” is another small miracle: a keyboard ostinato with hypnotic percussion and an almost funky bassline. Like a rock version of Terry Riley circa “Persian Surgery Dervishes.”

Michael Hoenig's synthesizer experiments on “Pulse,” placed halfway through the record, effectively mark a shift in direction – not drastic, but noticeable. The exotic appeal remains, but at the same time a distinctly Anglo-American strain of psychedelia takes shape. “Khan El Khalili” (which pilfers from post-“Hosianna Mantra” Popol Vuh) actually sounds like it could be the work of the quieter Pink Floyd, wrapped as it is in dreamy acoustic guitars and chiseling electric lines.

At the close, a new field recording – a sort of muezzin's call – ties into the title track. This time the scenery evokes the most mystical California, somewhere between the Grateful Dead of “Dark Star” and the Doors of “The End.” It's the kind of jam that could go on forever, were it not for the constraints of the format and its limited runtime. The brief “Rücksturz” isn't much in itself, except for being the perfect way to close things out.

A record that is at once formidable music and a travel diary, as well as a way of thinking. Malesch, indeed.

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02/02/2014