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T. RAUMSCHMIERE, "RADIO BLACKOUT"
NovaMute / Shitkatapult
Marco Haas, founder of Berlin's Shitkatapult label and the man behindT. Raumschmiere, has become somewhat notorious for his uniquelycrowd-pleasing, fist-pumping techno. On last year's The Great Rock n' Roll Swindle,Haas delivered a record filled with raucous, repetitive party jams thatdared to bring some sorely-needed fun into the German minimal scene.Haas' merging of gutter punk and arena rock to the comparativelyacademic world of microhouse and minimal techno was a revelation, andan idea whose time had come. Not since The KLF unleashed The White Rooma decade ago have I heard such beautifully simple, slam-dancing,stadium rave beats. T. Raumschmiere's new album certainly does notdisappoint, meeting and exceeding the bar set by his previous work. Radio Blackoutis a willfully dumb, loud and aggressive album full of rave-up anthems,like the IDM version of Andrew WK, or better yet, a Kompakt Recordstribute to Gary Glitter's "Rock N' Roll Part 2." T. Raumschmiere wantsus to rock out hard, and he's channeling the memories of all thoseNitzer Ebb and Front 242 records he listened to as a teenager, rollingout 11 big, dirty punk-electro jams. Just try not to jump up and tearthe roof off when the concussive beats and big chunky power chords of"Monstertruckdriver" hit you across the face. Miss Kittin, theEurotrash club girl whose unpleasant monotone has graced so manyelectroclash records, provides vocals for the album's first big 12"single "The Game is Not Over." It's unrelentingly awesome, weirdlyreminiscent of 70's-era glam-rock anthems like Slade's "Cum On Feel theNoize." Actually, glam rock is a very illustrative comparison, as MarcoHaas, like T. Rex and Kiss before him, prefers to concentrate onsurface concerns, rather than depth or encoded meaning. Everything youneed to experience in T. Raumschmiere's rave-rock is floating right ontop. Inside is just an empty husk, devoid of meaning other than thatinitial aesthetic thrill. Depending on the listeners sensibilities,this is either a critique or a recommendation. Ultimately, the vapiditythat makes T. Raumschmiere's brash techno so appealing also gives riseto that cold, empty feeling that sets in after a few listens.
Marco Haas, founder of Berlin's Shitkatapult label and the man behindT. Raumschmiere, has become somewhat notorious for his uniquelycrowd-pleasing, fist-pumping techno. On last year's The Great Rock n' Roll Swindle,Haas delivered a record filled with raucous, repetitive party jams thatdared to bring some sorely-needed fun into the German minimal scene.Haas' merging of gutter punk and arena rock to the comparativelyacademic world of microhouse and minimal techno was a revelation, andan idea whose time had come. Not since The KLF unleashed The White Rooma decade ago have I heard such beautifully simple, slam-dancing,stadium rave beats. T. Raumschmiere's new album certainly does notdisappoint, meeting and exceeding the bar set by his previous work. Radio Blackoutis a willfully dumb, loud and aggressive album full of rave-up anthems,like the IDM version of Andrew WK, or better yet, a Kompakt Recordstribute to Gary Glitter's "Rock N' Roll Part 2." T. Raumschmiere wantsus to rock out hard, and he's channeling the memories of all thoseNitzer Ebb and Front 242 records he listened to as a teenager, rollingout 11 big, dirty punk-electro jams. Just try not to jump up and tearthe roof off when the concussive beats and big chunky power chords of"Monstertruckdriver" hit you across the face. Miss Kittin, theEurotrash club girl whose unpleasant monotone has graced so manyelectroclash records, provides vocals for the album's first big 12"single "The Game is Not Over." It's unrelentingly awesome, weirdlyreminiscent of 70's-era glam-rock anthems like Slade's "Cum On Feel theNoize." Actually, glam rock is a very illustrative comparison, as MarcoHaas, like T. Rex and Kiss before him, prefers to concentrate onsurface concerns, rather than depth or encoded meaning. Everything youneed to experience in T. Raumschmiere's rave-rock is floating right ontop. Inside is just an empty husk, devoid of meaning other than thatinitial aesthetic thrill. Depending on the listeners sensibilities,this is either a critique or a recommendation. Ultimately, the vapiditythat makes T. Raumschmiere's brash techno so appealing also gives riseto that cold, empty feeling that sets in after a few listens. samples:
