Post by petrolino on Feb 19, 2021 23:21:43 GMT
The Druids Of Gaul : How Zeuhl Rock & The Motorik Beat Impacted Punk

Motorik Musik : Punk Solidarity In The Industrial Cosmos
In the late 1960's, an art movement began in Germany known as "kosmische musik", or cosmic music. It was later dubbed "krautrock" by the English music press when artists like David Bowie, Peter Hammill (Van Der Graaf Generator) and Dave Brock (Hawkwind) outwardly displayed the movement's growing influence. Many English punks were in thrall to Bowie so this influence inevitably became pervasive. Many of the German musicians creating this music were followers of 20th Century American music, be it indeterminacy and minimalism, free jazz or psychedelia. The musical roots of the group Can, for example, can be traced back to a significant time spent by keyboardist Irmin Schmidt in New York in the mid-1960s, where he eagerly immersed himself within an arts scene that at the time was being dominated by Andy Warhol's entourage.
“I came from jazz and played free jazz for two years. In the mid-’60s I was the first free jazz drummer in Germany. But I stopped that because, to my mind, I couldn’t develop any further in that genre. In free jazz you just weren’t allowed to play anything that was harmonically or rhythmically structured. It’s a paradox, but within free jazz there were too many limitations for me! After two years I couldn’t stand that anymore. Repetion or doubling something is a basic element in music.
With Can I was finally allowed to do what I wanted. Repeating rhythms and grooves over and over again very consciously was a whole new thing at the time — even though this is an old idea: You find repetitive patterns in every culture of the world. In Europe during the ’60s this wasn’t understood at all. But the truth is simple: Without any repetition there is no groove.”
With Can I was finally allowed to do what I wanted. Repeating rhythms and grooves over and over again very consciously was a whole new thing at the time — even though this is an old idea: You find repetitive patterns in every culture of the world. In Europe during the ’60s this wasn’t understood at all. But the truth is simple: Without any repetition there is no groove.”
- Jaki Liebezeit, Modern Drummer
Can

The rhythmic experiments of Can, Amon Duul II, Faust and Metropolis built complexity through exploratory grooves. If you listen to 'Moving Away From The Pulsebeat' by Buzzcocks, or 'Cut-Out Shapes' by Magazine, you can hear the direct, driving influence of Can.
Minimalists Neu! mastered the art of simplicity by vigorously exploring the 4/4 "motorik" beat with their music, creating an in-time touchstone for first-wave punk bands on both sides of the Atlantic. The ambient, electronic soundscapes of Tangerine Dream, Kraftwerk and Popol Vuh became instrumental in the development of new wave electronica and synthesiser pop.
"When I founded the group I was a classical composer and conductor and pianist making piano recitals, playing a lot of contemporary music but also Brahms, Chopin and Beethoven and everything. And when we got together I wanted to do something in which all contemporary music becomes one thing. Contemporary music in Europe especially, the new music was classical music was Boulez, Stockhausen and all that. I studied all that, I studied Stockhausen but nobody talked about rock music like Sly Stone, James Brown or the Velvet Underground as being contemporary music. Then there was jazz and all these elements were our contemporary music, it was new. It was, in a way, much newer than the new classical music which claimed to be 'the new music'."
— Irmin Schmidt speaking in 2004
'The Motorik Drum Beat' | Off Beat
Magma Tentacles : Space Refugees In The 6th Dimension
French music in the late 1960's was less celebrated, though musicians like Elton John and Willy DeVille became advocates for France's avant-rock scene. One group that exerted a considerable influence on all aspects of punk music is Magma. They're perhaps best-known nowadays for having invented "zeuhl" music, which has spawned wave after wave of imitators in Japan.
Magma developed and explored a far-reaching historical space concept across a string of unusual albums that frequently pitted the musicians against each other. They invented their own language known as "Kobaian", which was spoken by inhabitants of the planet Kobaia, where Earth's refugees were looking to settle. I've done some basic research into rock 'n' roll bands who've created their own language and it seems to be something that's extremely rare, especially across entire musical suites.
"There are plenty of bands who simply feel more relevant to a larger number of people in 2019 than perhaps they did in their heyday. Take for example Joy Division. Like Magma in the 1973 to 1975 period, it's not like the Macc/Salford post punk four piece were massively unpopular or received with total incomprehension - they were NME cover stars in 1979 and 1980 - but it's fair to say that they are far more prominent in the British pop cultural consciousness today than they were at the tail end of the 70s. There are multiple reasons for this (not least that copyright free, meme magic creating, image of the CP 1919 pulsar that has formed the basis of a million and one T-shirts).
40 years on they have achieved the kind of permanence that very few bands can even pretend to let alone achieve. To understand why you have to look at the duality of cultural impulses brought to bear on the group’s aesthetic. Their outlook and lyrics were as much informed by an obsession with the horrors of World War 2 as they were by smart speculative fiction written by the likes of William Burroughs and JG Ballard. As WW2 approaches ceasing to exist as something that anyone now living can actually remember, the band’s stark modernism and brutalist futurism have taken primacy in their aesthetic. They created a soundtrack for an imaginary dystopia; one which has slowly and darkly effloresced as we have drifted into it. Put simply, Joy Division actually make more sense today than they did in 1980. Their chilly euphoria, their crawling horror, their cosmic bleakness, their radical anhedonia are no longer the recherche affectations of the arty post punk elite or the voice of a traumatised and sensitive few, who revel in the convincing inner monologue of a tortured Macc Iggy Pop wannabe who tragically just wasn’t cut out for success. Unknown Pleasures is now the sonic diagnosis of a generation. Somehow Joy Division successfully read the room 40 years in advance.
There's something similar to be said about Magma. While I doubt they're a much bigger a live draw now than when Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh or M.D.K. came out - their debut UK show in December 1973 was at the 700 capacity Marquee Club, while earlier this week they played at the 900 capacity Islington Assembly Hall - they have certainly gained a new found respect and resonance which only seems to be growing. First of all, their science fiction aesthetic is even deeper engrained. Founding member Christian Vander, created, not only an ecologically driven mythos but also a crypto-language called Kobaïan in which most of his lyrics (both in Magma and solo projects such as The Offering) have since been delivered.
This language plays a stunning trick on the imagination of the listener. Ostensibly, the use of Kobaïan fulfils a similar role to scat singing (Leon Thomas was a clear influence) in that it is a semi-improvised rhythmical counterpoint but because there are loose meanings attached to what Vander writes, even though, on a word by word basis, it is phonetic and not semantic (i.e. there will never be a direct lyric sheet translation to all of their albums as in most cases they don't exist, the obvious exception being M.D.K.), it fulfils a different, more complex role than merely using the voice as another instrument. Really, the suggestive lyrical sound of Magma, combined with extensive sleevenotes, provides a loose framework for the listener to create their own precise narrative on top of, inviting them to feel, subconsciously either like a co-author or as if they are being addressed directly. And also, due to the themes of ecological collapse, the slide towards autocratic politics, the dream of a new planet where we can start again - leaving the destruction we've wreaked here behind, fundamental questions of nature versus nurture when it comes to mankind's apparent inability to keep its finger away from the self-destruct button, these narratives, where the listener can consider themselves a psychic co-author, have much more resonance in 2019.
Also, the use of multiple styles feels less chaotic today in a post music landscape where playlists have made all of us eclectic, the authenticity of staying in one's genre lane is less necessary than ever and streaming culture has given everything equal weight to more adventurous Generation Z listeners. (If this sounds fanciful, then perhaps consider this year's most hyped break through guitar band, Black Midi and their berserk, magpie list of influences which are, mainly, defiantly uncool. Where once NME and other inkies ruled the discourse around music with an iron rod, they have either disappeared entirely or struggle on almost invisibly in the background as a heritage brand with a shallow monthly list of unclicked on descriptive reviews, almost entirely lacking in criticism. Perhaps it's unfair to lay into just NME when their nearest print competitors, DIY and Dork are so anaemic and utterly lacking in opinion that they make the Argos catalogue look like The Anarchist's Cookbook by comparison. Of course this is an environment where a band can claim early 80s, slap bass King Crimson as a sincere influence with impunity - there are no longer any cloth-eared hacks to tell them that they're wrong.)
As well as creating a mythos, as befits any great rock band, a mythology has sprung up around Magma which is second to none. I won't go into it here but anyone who doesn't already know their full story should buy a copy of Julian Cope's Repossessed to read about Christian Vander's lengthy psychic battle with bass player/arch- magical nemesis, Jannick Top, conducted from neighbouring castles on either side of a Spanish river valley. A battle that ended, apparently, with a distraught Top trying to rip his own heart out with his hands."
40 years on they have achieved the kind of permanence that very few bands can even pretend to let alone achieve. To understand why you have to look at the duality of cultural impulses brought to bear on the group’s aesthetic. Their outlook and lyrics were as much informed by an obsession with the horrors of World War 2 as they were by smart speculative fiction written by the likes of William Burroughs and JG Ballard. As WW2 approaches ceasing to exist as something that anyone now living can actually remember, the band’s stark modernism and brutalist futurism have taken primacy in their aesthetic. They created a soundtrack for an imaginary dystopia; one which has slowly and darkly effloresced as we have drifted into it. Put simply, Joy Division actually make more sense today than they did in 1980. Their chilly euphoria, their crawling horror, their cosmic bleakness, their radical anhedonia are no longer the recherche affectations of the arty post punk elite or the voice of a traumatised and sensitive few, who revel in the convincing inner monologue of a tortured Macc Iggy Pop wannabe who tragically just wasn’t cut out for success. Unknown Pleasures is now the sonic diagnosis of a generation. Somehow Joy Division successfully read the room 40 years in advance.
There's something similar to be said about Magma. While I doubt they're a much bigger a live draw now than when Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh or M.D.K. came out - their debut UK show in December 1973 was at the 700 capacity Marquee Club, while earlier this week they played at the 900 capacity Islington Assembly Hall - they have certainly gained a new found respect and resonance which only seems to be growing. First of all, their science fiction aesthetic is even deeper engrained. Founding member Christian Vander, created, not only an ecologically driven mythos but also a crypto-language called Kobaïan in which most of his lyrics (both in Magma and solo projects such as The Offering) have since been delivered.
This language plays a stunning trick on the imagination of the listener. Ostensibly, the use of Kobaïan fulfils a similar role to scat singing (Leon Thomas was a clear influence) in that it is a semi-improvised rhythmical counterpoint but because there are loose meanings attached to what Vander writes, even though, on a word by word basis, it is phonetic and not semantic (i.e. there will never be a direct lyric sheet translation to all of their albums as in most cases they don't exist, the obvious exception being M.D.K.), it fulfils a different, more complex role than merely using the voice as another instrument. Really, the suggestive lyrical sound of Magma, combined with extensive sleevenotes, provides a loose framework for the listener to create their own precise narrative on top of, inviting them to feel, subconsciously either like a co-author or as if they are being addressed directly. And also, due to the themes of ecological collapse, the slide towards autocratic politics, the dream of a new planet where we can start again - leaving the destruction we've wreaked here behind, fundamental questions of nature versus nurture when it comes to mankind's apparent inability to keep its finger away from the self-destruct button, these narratives, where the listener can consider themselves a psychic co-author, have much more resonance in 2019.
Also, the use of multiple styles feels less chaotic today in a post music landscape where playlists have made all of us eclectic, the authenticity of staying in one's genre lane is less necessary than ever and streaming culture has given everything equal weight to more adventurous Generation Z listeners. (If this sounds fanciful, then perhaps consider this year's most hyped break through guitar band, Black Midi and their berserk, magpie list of influences which are, mainly, defiantly uncool. Where once NME and other inkies ruled the discourse around music with an iron rod, they have either disappeared entirely or struggle on almost invisibly in the background as a heritage brand with a shallow monthly list of unclicked on descriptive reviews, almost entirely lacking in criticism. Perhaps it's unfair to lay into just NME when their nearest print competitors, DIY and Dork are so anaemic and utterly lacking in opinion that they make the Argos catalogue look like The Anarchist's Cookbook by comparison. Of course this is an environment where a band can claim early 80s, slap bass King Crimson as a sincere influence with impunity - there are no longer any cloth-eared hacks to tell them that they're wrong.)
As well as creating a mythos, as befits any great rock band, a mythology has sprung up around Magma which is second to none. I won't go into it here but anyone who doesn't already know their full story should buy a copy of Julian Cope's Repossessed to read about Christian Vander's lengthy psychic battle with bass player/arch- magical nemesis, Jannick Top, conducted from neighbouring castles on either side of a Spanish river valley. A battle that ended, apparently, with a distraught Top trying to rip his own heart out with his hands."
- John Doran, The Quietus
Magma

Magma perform in Toulon, France on November 10, 1976
Magma have spawned some notable bands including Zao, Weidorje and Space, as well as their own musical disguises, Univeria Zekt and Utopic Sporadic Orchestra. Members of Magma have collaborated with musicians from Schizo / Heldon, Clearlight and Gong. Art Zoyd and Etron Fou Leloublan both opened for Magma in the 1970's.
Magma's influence can be heard in the music of Television, Pere Ubu, Joy Division and Material, while enthusiastic fans of the band include Debbie Harry, John Lydon and Jello Biafra. Their forceful rhythmic interplay, complete with undulating sound dynamics and creative linguistics, finds its mirror in the pioneering work of American industrial band Chrome.
"In 1972, I was introduced to "Carmina Burana" by Carl Orff. There I discovered similarities in the melodies I composed at the time, for example, MDK, composed in 1971. I was surprised and I even thought, "this is exactly the orchestration and formation I would like to have in Magma." Unfortunately, we lack the means, as is still the case today.
With John Coltrane it is the energy, the fury of playing, construction, the "sound", the long-term vision that inspired me. The music of John Coltrane is an inexhaustible source, a force that wins. There is something else in his music that goes beyond. If John's music was only music, it might have made me weary. He certainly opened the door to a world we did not know. It's probably this unbridled spiritual quest that led him there. For these reasons, I listen to John regularly. He accompanies me in every period of my life, I always hear his music differently, I re-discover him every time and it always fascinates me."
With John Coltrane it is the energy, the fury of playing, construction, the "sound", the long-term vision that inspired me. The music of John Coltrane is an inexhaustible source, a force that wins. There is something else in his music that goes beyond. If John's music was only music, it might have made me weary. He certainly opened the door to a world we did not know. It's probably this unbridled spiritual quest that led him there. For these reasons, I listen to John regularly. He accompanies me in every period of my life, I always hear his music differently, I re-discover him every time and it always fascinates me."
- Christian Vander, The Rocktologist
'Zombies (Ghost Dance)' - Magma

