Kraftwerk–Autobahn at the Tate Modern. 6th February 2013

Hello 2013.

When the Tate announced they were going to be hosting a series of gigs by Kraftwerk I was of course excited, they were to play a classic album over 8 nights, covering a large chunk of their back catalogue from Autobahn (1974) to Tour De France (2003). Much sampled, Kraftwerk are engineers, pioneers, but the most part they are musical geniuses, I had to try and get tickets. I’ve been a big fan for years, they’re a band who deliver songs about computers, radioactivity, roads, trains, vitamins and robots with a deadpan credibility, combining soaring emotive melodies with the starkness of industrial synths. They were technological pioneers with their home made instruments / drum kits. In many fields, it’s when science combines with arts that the most intriguing work is generated and Kraftwerk uniquely sit awkwardly and majestically apart in the musical space. Their fans range from socially awkward computer geeks, punks, hippies to dance/techno heads.

Little did I, or anyone else know, that the Tate, in homage to the computer technology of the 70s, would be using a ticketing system which had the total capacity of 16k.

Within seconds of the tickets going on the market, their website fell to pieces, leaving the many thousands of fans no alternative but to telephone, how retro.

After possibly three-hundred (perhaps more) redials, using two phones, over three hours, I finally got through, to speak to a sore throat suffering croaky young man, brow beaten by the sheer battering of phone calls he and his colleagues had suffered that morning. He timidly offered “sorry for the long wait”, knowing that for some people this was a invitation to savage him. I was fairly sanguine though, I’d got through, this young man was my ticket to tickets, there was no way I was going to upset him!

I managed to get four tickets for the opening night, Autobahn. It was a cold evening on the South Bank, the dim blue glow on millennium bridge drawing us towards the imposing beast that was the Tate Modern. The gig was to be held in the huge space of the turbine hall. It seemed apt that the former power station be host to the band whose name means “power plant” in German.

As far as gigs go, this was one of the most polite I’d ever been to, we were issued with 3D glasses and cushions going in. Me, Neil, John and John then strode down to the front and got a good pew. Once the beeps and whizzes of “Robots” started to jangle behind the curtain… people inevitably stood up, so with cushions discarded, the curtain dropped and we were given a memorable show. Somehow, these elderly German gentlemen managed to pull off the outfits, one piece cat suits with no dubious bulges, hernias or Camel-toes on show (I’ve looked it up, it’s kamelzeh in German – heh!).

Photo from the opening track “Robots”.

With the sublime Robots out of the way, they then played through the Autobahn album. The title track is a 22 minute beast, although it seemed to have been cut down to around 15 minutes. It was a brilliantly fun advert for classic German motoring of the 60s/70s, with the 3D imagery thrusting VW Beetles and old Mercedes cars towards us rubbing our fallen Britisher faces in the wreckage of our once proud manufacturing industry. (I’m sure this wasn’t their intention)

The album itself is perhaps one when Kraftwerk were finding their modern sound, really exploiting the new technology. It isn’t their best in my opinion, but it’s certainly groundbreaking. And being less than 40 minutes long, they were soon through the more ambient “B side”. It was a lovely starter.

Then they rolled through their back catalogue. The crackle of Gieger Counter rolled into Radioactivity (it’s in the air for you and me) and we were off on a whistle stop tour of their albums!

Some songs were faithful to the original, some were given a modern, dancy twist. Kraftwerk have been playing a number of art galleries around the world and it’s quite apt they seemed to give a slot to each album covered chronologically. It was like walking through an exhibition, as much a historical retrospective as a gig.

(another pic from Radioactivity)

The turbine hall, that immense space was perfect for their sound, there was no distortion, the synth bass really punched you in the chest and of course, they were musically perfect. Trans Europe Express was much better live than the studio version, you could feel the train powering down the tracks (and see it hurtling towards you on the 3D backdrop).

Here’s Ralf Hutter (the only original member left) during it. Couldn’t fit the train in, sorry. I love the fact Afrika Bambaataa sampled this for his pioneering hip-hop track Planet Rock.

Tracks from Man Machine (every song played other than Metropolis) and Computer World were well represented (they didn’t play Pocket Calculator to my disappointment though) and when Numbers came on it felt like an insane techno German sesame street learn to count song. Superbly mental. The visuals were overwhelming, numbers throwing themselves at you, in multiple languages, a total savant meltdown.

Vitamin is a fun pop-dance song too, about a ridiculous subject. The 3D tablets cascaded towards us, I resisted the urge to snatch at them. I’d have only got a handful of virtual laxatives probably.

It was a real privilege to be there, I was lucky to get tickets. One of the best gigs I’ve been to. We were all a bit lost for words afterwards. And I leave you with Neon Lights, one of the most beautiful songs ever written, quite apt for the South Bank and London.

Cheers Kraftwerk!

John Foxx and the Maths, XOYO, 27th October 2011

I’ll try to write this blog entry without mentioning the following -
1) Dystopian Urban Decay
2) JG Ballard (This one is easy, I’ve never read any of his work, but clever people often cite him as one of John Foxx’s influences)
3) Underpants! (That’s what some silly kids used to sing instead of “Underpass” – but it was a mark of affection of course as it’s a darkly cool synth-pop classic)
Was so looking forward to this gig, loved the Midge Ure incarnation of Ultravox when I was at school, they were in their pomp then, but it was when I discovered the three Ultravox albums fronted by John Foxx that I was really blown away. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Making the most of the emerging technology of synthesisers, but still underpinned by rock / punk with spiky guitars and a undercurrent of melancholy and detachment, they sounded so decadent and poetic to me.
I wanted to stand still, hands by my side, against a wall, looking stark and enigmatic, backlit by neon, in a PVC jacket, just like on the cover of the first Ultravox! album (before the exclamation mark left the band). But I didn’t as it would look silly and I’m not elegant and willowy like those boys and no one else I knew liked them… I mean, when I was at school, I remember there being a massive debate between my (male) classmates as to who was the hottest, Chaka Khan or Kim Wilde…purlease! When I suggested Siouxsie Sioux be considered I was told to shut up and vote for one of the official candidates. I abstained.

Not sure about PVC trousers lads, a tad revealing perhaps? It doesn’t need Gok Wan to suggest they aren’t particularly flattering, but everything else is grand. (Apart from blue cowboy boots and a sleeveless vest which shows off your belly button)
And so it was – me and my mate John from work, rolled up to Old Street tube to visit a venue we’d never visited before (XOYO). It was like stepping into the early eighties, it was brill! There was a dude in the audience actually wearing a PVC jacket, now PVC is like heroin, it is a banned substance in some industries, not sure if clothing is one, but there are several united nations resolutions against it. Burning it causes massive poison emissions, so I was hoping no one would set him alight during the gig. He didn’t combust. It was cool.
We caught the tail end of one of the support acts, Xeno and Oaklander, have to say they were really great! So will be following their progress and perhaps turn up to check them out if they headline a gig in the future.
After they finished, the DJ played some old new romantic tunes, there was a brief interlude whilst the priceless relics (the original analogue synths and drum machine) were reverently assembled on stage, fired up and sound checked.
After what seemed like an age… the band. John Foxx and the Maths!

From left to right, Hannah Peel, John Foxx, the synth genius and shy and retiring Benge (he’s behind John -I could see him bouncing around and whacking his kit, but was difficult to get pics of him, he has the reflexes of an olympian squirrel, so managed to avoid my camera effortlessly) and last but not least Serafina Steer.
They opened with Shatterproof, which is the opening track of their 2011 album Interplay, playing these songs live gave them more depth for me, already loved the album. Hearing old synths is really nostalgic, takes me make, those soaring sounds, warm sounding, not clinical in any way. And all this was added to through violin accompaniment by Hannah and bass playing by Serafina. Both Hannah and Serafina are accomplished singer songwriters and musicians in their own right, with big futures ahead, so the Maths are essentially a super group.


Fantastic stuff. Evergreen was also played early in the set, probably my favourite song on Interplay. And interspersing these new numbers were some songs from John Foxx’s early solo material. 
John turns his silhouette to gold during Hiroshima Mon Amour, my favourite ever John Foxx/Ultravox tune. What a beautiful song. The lyrics are just haunting. I’m so pleased to have had the privilege to hear this live.

Absolutely loved the gig, the new tracks, the old classics. It was wonderful. And the band look fantastic together and have a real vibe, they all look like they are enjoying themselves and that makes a huge difference for me. Like I said on twitter (and Ms Peel kindly retweeted), I want *all* of their hairstyles, not at the same time of course. As in the future, we will be able to buy hairstyles and keep them on shelves. Like shoes. Or baked bean tins. John, the archetypal Silver Foxx. Benge, his beautifully styled playmobil hair, barely moving as he energetically works his magic in the background, Hannah, all sculpted elegance and Serafina, a vibrant mass, almost prehensile and sentient, I’m sure her hair played three of her seven keyboards.
Here is a moody dark shot, teasingly hinting at the hair magnificence going on in the room.



Burning Car was the most enthusiastically delivered for me, best song of the night, it seems like a band favourite, all four of them were getting right into it and even my left leg twitched rhythmically in what can only be described as a dystopian dance, evoking urban decay… *failed task no 1.

John invoking the synth spirits.

Encore! Encore! Moooore!

And final pic, after the last track of the night, Underpass (which was brilliantly and tightly blasted out) : if you look up “Jump for Joy” in the dictionary, there is no description, just this picture. :)

It was sad to hear John cut his head on the night of the gig and it meant some cancelled gigs, glad he’s ok that’s the main thing. I loved the pic Hannah Peel posted on twitter, the sinister use of CSI body tape a great touch.
http://img.ly/9R2H
It led me to think was it really a table that caused the injury? I think not, John just doesn’t what to let on he cut his head on his own cheekbones, the man is sharp, a spark of electroflesh… and geared for synchromesh. I am somewhat younger than Mr Foxx, but already my jowls sag pitifully in comparison to the cut crystal that is the face of John Foxx.
What a top gig. Thank you John Foxx & the Maths. And get well soon John!
And so, back to St Pancras and a train home on the shitsville stopper, took ages, the train full of drunks, or youths trying their dreadful one liners (one worders in one case “spiceeeeyyy!” whilst gyrating hips in the general direction of some girls). But I blocked it all out, till I got home.
Love living in the country, as I opened my front door, I could hear the distant hoot of a tawny owl, faintly rolling over the moors. Four hours sleep, then back to work! Wouldn’t have missed it though, great fun. Tomorrow, PJ Harvey at the Royal Albert Hall.