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Asmus Tietchens, "SPÄT EUROPA"
Die Stadt
Following Biotop as the third in Die Stadt's ongoing Tietchens reissue campaign, Spät-Europashows Asmus Tietchens again preoccupied with a bizarre space-age popsound, exceedingly retro even by 1981's standards. Tietchens' imaginarytroop of antique synthesizer idiots return in the album's thoughtfullyduplicated sleeve notes, ushering in the same twisted humor and bouncymelodies of its predecessor, with a similar, if not more dominantdegree of mechanical (German?) remove. The distance that separatesTietchens' two-minute robotic jingles from virtually all electropopapproximations past and present (save maybe the work of Felix Kubin) isthe result of that rare, hard-to-locate, and thoroughly inhuman charmfound in the grainy science fictions and forgotten prog records ofdecades past. Asmus seems intent on pushing the aloof cinematic edgethat confused Biotop's buoyant flow to an even greater extreme on Spät,incorporating more alienating atmospherics to divide the album's fewermoments of jubilant Moog abuse and out-pop reverie. Songs become stiff,programmatic waltzes for robot retirees, conjuring images of obsoletestainless-steel models left to their own tired dinner parties, dustyveteran lounges, and silent card games. Tietchens' melodic styleresponds accordingly, toned down since Biotop and more in tunewith the minimal, near-industrial percussive backing of many tracks.Repeated listens reveal a new harshness that was perhaps hidden withinthe previous album's spacious glide and will become more pronounced asthe artist gradually lets go of the pop format. At least for now,though, the light-hearted Tietchens rules, and it's a great pleasure tovisit this side of such a prolific, diverse musician.
Following Biotop as the third in Die Stadt's ongoing Tietchens reissue campaign, Spät-Europashows Asmus Tietchens again preoccupied with a bizarre space-age popsound, exceedingly retro even by 1981's standards. Tietchens' imaginarytroop of antique synthesizer idiots return in the album's thoughtfullyduplicated sleeve notes, ushering in the same twisted humor and bouncymelodies of its predecessor, with a similar, if not more dominantdegree of mechanical (German?) remove. The distance that separatesTietchens' two-minute robotic jingles from virtually all electropopapproximations past and present (save maybe the work of Felix Kubin) isthe result of that rare, hard-to-locate, and thoroughly inhuman charmfound in the grainy science fictions and forgotten prog records ofdecades past. Asmus seems intent on pushing the aloof cinematic edgethat confused Biotop's buoyant flow to an even greater extreme on Spät,incorporating more alienating atmospherics to divide the album's fewermoments of jubilant Moog abuse and out-pop reverie. Songs become stiff,programmatic waltzes for robot retirees, conjuring images of obsoletestainless-steel models left to their own tired dinner parties, dustyveteran lounges, and silent card games. Tietchens' melodic styleresponds accordingly, toned down since Biotop and more in tunewith the minimal, near-industrial percussive backing of many tracks.Repeated listens reveal a new harshness that was perhaps hidden withinthe previous album's spacious glide and will become more pronounced asthe artist gradually lets go of the pop format. At least for now,though, the light-hearted Tietchens rules, and it's a great pleasure tovisit this side of such a prolific, diverse musician.
