Kraftwerk Live at the Palladium
by Count Bruga
As I stood in the massive line waiting to get into the Palladium, I fell into a conversation with someone nearby, who told me "Yeah, I hear they're not doing any of their pop stuff off of Autobahn or Man Machine or any of that stuff." What else is there? I wondered, then vaguely remembered seeing some Ralf Hutter and Florian Schneider albums of a pre-Kraftwerk era. But I couldn't believe that Kraftwerk would be so stupid as to subject us to that body of work, now that time had finally caught up with them.
The security at the Palladium certainly set a German tone. It was worse than going through customs. I didn't have any contraband on me, but thousands of people were instructed to throw away any candy, gum, cigarettes, lighters, makeup, and other personal effects that were deemed potentially threatening and/or hallucinogenic. When I made it to the second checkpoint, where I was frisked and scanned with a metal detector and told to empty my pockets of all of my belongings, the neanderthal in a blazing yellow jacket gravely eyed the nailclipper on my keychain . "They may not let you in with that, I don't know," he forewarned. I managed to slip it past the final checkpoint, where I immediately went nuts, clipping every nail in sight! Take that, you fuckers! Give me all your money, or I'll clip your fucking nails off!
Well, I don't know if I'm just getting older and more particular (or more observant), but it seems to me that the crowds just get uglier. There's no unified look, just a hodgepodge of ugly teenagers, ugly students, ugly old people, ugly aging rockers, ugly chicks, ugly dudes. The Kraftwerk audience had no particular distinction, other than a lot of people were wearing glasses, most of the audience were guys, and many of the glasses were yellow. Otherwise, it was the same as any other show; except that there were tons of shirts that promoted a particular software. I'm beginning to suspect that the seeming unity of the rock audiences of my youth was just a naive assumption on my part, now further distorted by nostalgia.
So eventually I got in, got my 'I'm over 21' wristband, got in another line, got my $6 drink, and staked out my place in the crowd. It was hot and boring and taking forever, so I sat on the wooden floor, looking at shoes. Nike must make a lot of money. Nike and Levi's, they must do very well for themselves.
Finally the house lights went out, and the curtain parted, to reveal not the band, but the band's technology: four matte grey synthesizers, evenly spaced, facing the audience, behind which was a semicircle of patchbays, outboard gear, computer monitors, little red lights, and who knows what all else, looking easily as impressive as the control deck of the starship Enterprise. The crowd went nuts.
Out walked four close-cropped Germans in matching black jumpsuits, and each took their station. Above their heads, four matching video projection screens glowed in anticipation of a blitzkrieg of images. And true to their Kraft, the music was already programmed, playing the intro to Computer World.
Any lingering doubts as to whether or not they would be playing any of their pop went right out the window.
Computer World took on a whole new significance, as the album is more than ten years old, and it now reads as a commentary on the whole internet age. "Time. Travel. Communication. Entertainment. Computer World." Kraftwerk knew it all along, and it's about time they got their due.
The video screens commanded most of the action, alternating between black and white film clips and densely colored graphics that pulsed, split apart, and reconfigured right on the beat. It was strangely pleasing to see the familiar artwork of their album covers, from Autobahn, Man Machine, and the Tour de France 12", projected and shamelessly used to accompany the songs. There has always been something so literal and slightly naïve about Kraftwerk, which contributes significantly to their charm, a charm totally lacking in other synth/techno bands. Their use of the cover art seemed to be another example of a pleasing simplicity that they have mastered so well.
Ralf, or is it Florian? The guy with the big forehead. I always knew he had to be the singer, I don't know why. He just looked like the singer, the main guy. He was at the left end of the stage, singing through a head-mounted microphone, which he seemed to have some difficulty with: he would cup his hand to one side of his mouth, as if yelling, with each phrase. The vocal sound could have used some help, and let's face it, he isn't much of a singer. But again, the plainness of it all was very refreshing. They were just so German.
They played almost everything: "Computer World" "The Man Machine" "Trans-Europe Express" "The Model" "Radio-Activity" and even "Autobahn". (It would have been nice to hear "Hall of Mirrors" or "Showroom Dummies,", but you can't have everything.) They altered some of the songs just slightly, such as the melody of "Man Machine," which made for renewed interest, while each of the four video screens carried identical images, reinforcing the effectiveness of their use of repetition. Strangely, some of their best material (T.E.E., The Model) was the least compelling live - The Model missed it's great groove somehow (but the 60's fashion footage maintained interest), and the travelogue footage of the Trans-Europe Express was dull - it would have been more effective to place a camera on the train itself. It was about this time that I strolled out into the lobby of the Palladium to get another drink and some fresh air.
The band went into some long techno instrumental sections, which were flat and boring. It looked as though the show may have run out of steam and would remain static for the rest of the night. But the show really began in earnest on the encores.
For the first encore, Kraftwerk came back out on stage to the ecstatic applause of the audience, and they now stood informally close together, holding little handheld keypads, with which they triggered sounds for the fun pop of "Pocket Calculator". It was refreshing to see a different approach. That done, the curtain closed again, but the audience was far from satisfied. The curtains eventually reopened, and "The Robots" played, with the band appropriately offstage. The video screens displayed images of robots in the likeness of the band making mechanical gestures, and once again, the crowd loved it. Then a platform at the rear of the stage lowered down, and the robots themselves were displayed. Their range of motion was limited to the pivoting of arms and the twisting of heads, but strobe lights and other effects helped add to the sense of dimension. They were slightly eerie and playful at the same time, much like the robots in the Herbie Hancock Rockit video. Kraftwerk proved once and for all that you don't necessarily need human beings to make great music, or even great performance. These robots were far more alive than, say, your average platinum megastar performer.
That song ended and the curtains closed again, but the crowd was still applauding for more. I thought the show must be over; how could they top that? Shortly thereafter, Kraftwerk answered: they came back out on stage for the final number, dressed in matching bodysuits that had neon green grid patterns covering them, and matching wraparound sunglasses, under the glow of blacklight, making them appear as computer generated images themselves. It was a brilliant move, and they finished off the night with Musique Non Stop from Electric Cafe, the video screens accompanying them with 3D digital renderings of the band members, as used on the album cover. Eventually, one by one they exited the stage, Ralf (or is it Florian? The big forehead guy) last of all. The speakers still boomed, alternating between French and English, "Music. Nonstop." over and over, until the houselights came back on.
It was just fucking amazing.
ARTICLES BIASES CLASSIFIEDS CONTACT US
Get your own Free Home Page