Wolfgang Flür – { feuilleton }

Leitkegel

Gatefold interior for Doppelalbum (1974), a double-disc compilation album by Kraftwerk.

More Kraftwerkiana. “Leitkegel” is the German name for traffic cones, and it’s immediately obvious to anyone browsing Kraftwerk’s pre-Autobahn recordings that Ralf and Florian had a fixation with these objects. The closest thing I’ve found for a rationale is in Tim Barr’s history of the group, Kraftwerk: From Dusseldorf to the Future (1998), which features some musings about the influence of Joseph Beuys and the Düsseldorf arts scene of the late 60s. Prior to Kraftwerk, Florian Schneider was a member of a short-lived art collective/music outfit with the very un-Kraftwerkian name of Pissoff. Recordings exist of the group performing with Beuys. A more straightforward explanation might be to look towards Pop Art (something that Barr also suggests), with the traffic cone serving as a symbolic objet trouvé that’s also the first inkling of the future Kraftwerk obsessions with roads, trains and cycling. Whatever the impulse behind its adoption, between 1969 and 1973 the traffic cone was turning up everywhere that Ralf and Florian went.

Cover design by “Comus” (Roger Wooton).

The first instance is on Tone Float (1970), the pre-Kraftwerk album by Organisation, a collection of freeform improvisations that’s very much of its time. The album wasn’t very successful, and matters weren’t helped by the poor cover artwork. That multicoloured head and Ringlet typeface are also very much of their time but if you look on the back of the sleeve you find a traffic cone beside the album credits.

Organisation live (1970).

Before the group split they were recorded by German TV, a performance that gives a good idea of the Organisation sound and of how odd they all look together. Ralf Hütter isn’t visible but you do glimpse a traffic cone for a moment when Florian is moving his microphone stand. I suspect the proliferation of cones around Florian (see below) is an indicator that their adoption was his doing.

Continue reading “Leitkegel”

German gear

Ralf and Florian, 1973. Back cover photo by Barbara Niemöller.

At that time, Kling Klang Studio was far from the technological hub it would become. “The studio was a big room in an old factory building with brick walls,” recalls [Wolfgang] Flür. “There were big home-made speakers, amplifiers and so on. Florian had his side, with his flutes and one of the very first ARP Odyssey synthesizers, while Ralf’s side had Hammond and Farfisa organs and a Minimoog synthesizer.”

Andy Gill, Mojo magazine, April 1997

Last week’s Autobahn post prompted a week of revisiting Kraftwerk’s three pre-Autobahn albums, all of which remain unreissued. The photo that fills out the back cover of the third album, Ralf & Florian (1973), has appeared here twice before so if you want an example of an obsession look no further. I only have a bootleg CD of this one, a package that doesn’t do much for the photograph so I went searching for a larger copy.

The attractions, if you have to list them, are multiple: Ralf & Florian is Kraftwerk’s most human album, and the cover photos reflect this. Trans-Europe Express originally had pictures of the group on its sleeve (now replaced by the TEE train) but they were airbrushed, idealised portraits; the showroom-dummy personas they adopt there would turn into robots on the album that followed. There’s an overt sense of camp about the Ralf & Florian cover shots that runs counter to the tenor of rock music in 1973. The charts in Britain might have been filled with glam acts but for all their flirtatious androgyny they were selling the same assertive macho sexuality as the big rock bands of the time. One of the things I enjoy about this cover photo is its refusal to follow that crowd: the neon name signs, the standard lamp from a 1950s’ living room, Florian’s semiquaver brooch; all are effete enough to give Deep Purple the vapours. (The first UK release of Ralf and Florian replaced the cover photo of the pair with a printed circuit.) The closest comparison in the same year would be the sleeve for Brian Eno’s Here Come The Warm Jets with its shelves of dead flowers and junk-shop discoveries. But this wasn’t so surprising for an ex-member of Roxy Music, and Eno’s album is still very much a rock production.

Then there’s the details: the egg-box soundproofing (Can used old mattresses to soundproof their studio); the enormous white speaker; the traffic cone that nods back to the sleeves of the first two albums and forward to the automotive theme of the next; Ralf’s white shoes (and is he wearing leather trousers?); Florian’s oscilloscope, his mysterious tone generators and that peculiar stringed instrument. This diverse range of gear somehow produced the music you’re listening to.

Continue reading “German gear”

Ralf and Florian

Ralf and Florian, 1973. Back cover photo by Barbara Niemöller.

Kraftwerk’s third album, Ralf and Florian, is forty years old this year. It was recorded and mixed from May to July, 1973, and released three months later. As with the first two Kraftwerk albums, it still hasn’t been given an official CD reissue. When so many albums by the big names of the 1970s have been reissued multiple times Kraftwerk are pretty much unique in suppressing part of their catalogue.

Photo by Robert Franck.

The reason usually given for this is that the fourth album, Autobahn (1974), was the first to adopt the conceptual style that became a hallmark of the group’s output. Well, yes and no. The celebrated sleeve design for Autobahn went through several variations, and the motoring theme only applies to the first side of the album. The second side doesn’t match the theme at all, and with its melodies and instrumentation (Florian was still using his flute) is much closer to the previous albums, especially the third one, than those that came after. What Kraftwerk prefer to see as a clean break is really more of a gradual evolution.

The sleeve for the first UK release. No designer credited.

I’ve always liked the Ralf and Florian album, and don’t mind so much that it’s not been given a proper reissue. Bootleg copies circulate, and even the original vinyl isn’t so scarce. A couple of things related to the album are more difficult to find, however. The first German copies came with a large poster-insert illustrated by the group’s artist/designer Emil Schult. This item more than anything shows a charming, human side to Ralf and Florian which was later overshadowed by the machine-obsessed conceptualism. Large scans of the insert were recently posted at Mostly Retro.

Then there’s Kohoutek – Kometenmelodie, a 7-inch single released in December 1973 which forms a bridge between the third and fourth albums. Kometenmelodie subsequently appeared in two versions on Autobahn but the single sleeve is very much in the R&F zone with the faces from the album cover, while the back of the sleeve sports Emil Schult’s Kling Klang Verlag logo from the album insert. Kohoutek was a comet visible in the night skies in 1973. This was Kraftwerk’s debut single, presenting two unique versions of Kometenmelodie. It’s never been reissued but both tracks can be heard here. Elsewhere on YouTube there’s a performance of the R&F track Tanzmusik on a German TV programme, a clip which features new group member, Wolfgang Flür, playing his electronic drum pads.

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Reworking Kraftwerk
• Autobahn animated
• Sleeve craft
• Who designed Vertigo #6360 620?
• Old music and old technology
• Aerodynamik by Kraftwerk