Re: In praise of Kraftwerk

Quote
David Haldeman
It's 2014, and I'm on a packed subway in Philadelphia. Kraftwerk's song "It's More Fun to Compute" pops up at random on some playlist in my headphones. In my ears, it creates a menacing robot voice that repeats "It's more fun to compute," as a screeching synth lead and lurching bass line repeat relentlessly in the background.

I look around me and see everyone -- everyone -- staring at their phones. Not talking, not reading, not gazing out the window or at those around them ... just looking at the computers in their pockets. We are disconnected, detached, melded with technology. We're here, but we're not here. I judge them, of course, until I realize that I'm doing the exact same thing. And this whole time, a song from thirty years ago repeats, "It's more fun to compute ... it's more fun to compute ..."

Since their formation in the 1970s, Kraftwerk has spoken to us directly, simply, in almost child-like language, about a world that would soon become utterly saturated by technology. Their music simultaneously revels in technology while also warning us of its dangers. And it's that contradiction that makes their music not just innovative and interesting and influential, but elevates it to the level of art. Scary, beautiful, disorienting art.

We'll talk more about the band's history later in the show. But for now, just know this: Kraftwerk changed everything. They are frequently paired with The Beatles, among a lot of cultural critics, as the most influential musical artists of the 20th century. And they influenced everything from pop to dance to hip-hop to the avant-garde. If you've heard any electronic music, ever -- at least, post-mid-Seventies -- it was influenced by Kraftwerk.

Yet Kraftwerk is only a fraction as popular as The Beatles. So why is that? Beatles songs usually provide comfort and hope and fun and togetherness. Kraftwerk did none of this. Their music disturbs. Beautiful and exciting and inspiring though it can be, it speaks of detachment and technological dependence. The Beatles had "Love, love, love"; Kraftwerk had "Eins, zwei, drei, fier, fumpf, secht, sieben, acht."

And as I sit here in isolation for the ninth week, spending eight to ten hours a day on a computer, my only socializing now done with pixelated versions of my friends, it doesn't feel like The Beatles' world anymore. It's Kraftwerk's.