An otherwise enjoyable documentary on Kraftwerk
broadcast on BBC4 last Friday, which I recorded but only got around to watching
last night, was marred by the critic Paul Morley’s constant need to dismiss as insignificant
all rock music that doesn’t accord with his narrow definition of art. I’ve
grown accustomed to Morley’s brainier-than-thou attitude over the years, but there
were moments when he was especially irritating on this programme.
I
have admired Kraftwerk ever since I first heard ‘Autobahn’ in New York in
1975, and I’ve some sympathy with Morley’s theory that they are closer in form
to ‘artists’, ie abstract painters who create soundscapes, than musicians who
write popular songs, but that doesn’t mean all rock music not allied to Kraftwerk
is irrelevant, as Morley seemed to imply, or that to move around on stage in time
to the rhythm is ‘ridiculous’ as he specifically stated.
I
suppose Kraftwerk’s deliberate shunning of the cult of personality is bound to
appeal to critics for whom the product is all that matters; of far greater import than those who create it. Actually, I’m quite taken with the idea that scientists,
as opposed to musicians, or even robots, created KW’s music, and I have often
wondered why instead of having names, the Kraftwerk personnel could not simply have
been referred to as Number One or Number Two, like Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner, and thus remained
completely anonymous.
All
of this adds enormously to Kraftwerk’s unique charm and made for a fascinating
documentary. This most uncommunicative of groups haven’t given any interviews
for 30-odd years so this presents a challenge to the producers, but there was
some fascinating old footage of the group on stage with Can before they got
into their stride, and wonderful new live footage from the 2013 shows at Tate
Modern, even though whoever comprises Kraftwerk these days are more inert than
live on stage. There is something slightly unnerving about the sight of four
musicians in illuminated spaceman outfits standing stock still behind consoles
on which they push buttons, but it does somehow beg the question as to why
bother? Why not simply play the recorded music loudly through a
state-of-the-art sound system and show the spectacular graphics? Well, Ralf Hütter does sing in a manner of
speaking, and from time to time there’s a slight movement on the part of one of
his teammates, but you can’t help feeling that any overt displays of enjoyment on
their part will result in instant dismissal.
Not having spent
much time listening to Coldplay I was completely unaware that their song ’Talk’
is built around the hook from KW’s ‘Computer Love’, and in the live footage
shown in the programme this was clearly the key element of the song. Evidently
Coldplay sought permission from Hütter who was pleased to have been asked, being as how others
have sampled KW without asking.
Elsewhere on the
documentary graphic designer Neville Brody and techno producer Derrick May had
interesting things to say, as did Catherine Wood, the curator at Tate Modern
who was responsible for staging the KW shows there. I thought Morley was
correct to draw a line from classical music to Kraftwerk’s more melodic
moments, like ‘Europe Endless’ and ‘Neon Lights’, but I was wondering what he
was on when he suggested that computerised machines have more soul than
instruments made from wood, presumably guitars. Worse, earlier in the show he
had arrogantly written off The Beatles as Kraftwerk’s ‘nearest rivals’ in terms
of influence, suggesting that the gap was a mile wide. No doubt Coldplay’s
patronage was his worst nightmare come true.
I remember an early Channel Four programme that Morley presented about Brian Eno which l looked forward to very much, as you didn't see Eno on TV much back then. l didn't know who Morley was.
ReplyDeleteImagine my disdain when Morley had himself super-imposed over the shots of Eno talking, spouting his brainier-than-thou bunkum, imagining himself to be more interesting than his worthy subject.
I've had no time for the pompous buffoon since.