Kreidler – Twists (A Visitor Arrives)

Bureau B

Every couple of years or so brings a new Kreidler album and with it another slight change in direction. They seem to have spent the last thirty years keeping interested parties guessing, and perhaps beyond their obvious affinity with electronica, you can assume nothing about what each album may entail.

Still on their natural home of Bureau B, Twists (A Visitor Arrives) immediately swamps the listener with intrigue. The cover art, a melange of hairy limbs, is slightly disconcerting and also explains nothing; so preconceptions are zero before the album starts. It feels like it might be a soundtrack of sorts, involving a guest who refuses to leave and the eeriness of the opener “Polaris” does nothing to dissuade that thought in a Twin Peaksy mystery of low tuba moan and leaden beat, torpid electronica intertwined. Horns only help to toy with the listener as the odd selection of sounds builds on this sandy foundation.

There is that soundtrack element to the pieces here, but the fretless bass of “Tanger Telex” adds a sinuous feel, smooth and dark within interjections of shadowy electronics and a surprise sax solo. It feels like a lost Japan b-side and that can only be a good thing. There is a vague trajectory, but with so many different ingredients, you would think this was the work of a far more people than a trio. Through the assorted pieces, momentum is maintained but the direction is unclear and they move from welcoming to a little sinister, often in one track.

The vocals from Khan Of Finland on “Loisaida Sisters” come on like a strangely louche update of The Cramps‘ “Goo goo muck”; a sexy but cold tale of nocturnal erotic prowling. It is Mittel Europa rather than NYC and the temperature is definitely lower, the jittery rhythm and bulging bass urging the protagonist out into the wilds while the radiophonic pings and oscillations of “Arithmetique” run themselves into an EBM cul de sac. A soft DAF tribute, it feels as though something is searching to be explained. They are desperate to make us understand, but come up against difficulties at every turn.

You really need to search to translate this esoteric language, be it the the disconcerting underwater “Hands”, which involves the inestimable intoning of Natalie Beridze, interspersed with aqueous electronics; or the stripped-down simplicity of “Hopscotch”. Each time you think you may have made some progress, a wafting drift of industrial soft-foot beat slaps you gently and propels you in the other direction. Bringing humanity to this boxed-in, distorted, subterranean organ fuss is hard and familiar elements do emerge, but are then twisted into incongruous shapes.

It could only be their microscopic descriptions of an overlooked land, a continuous ecstatic electronic sweep that ties it all together. Their enthusiasm for the journey is irrepressible and makes every outing worthy of investigation as each disparate element eventually falls into place.

-Mr Olivetti-