For the past few years, the German techno pioneers Kraftwerk have been putting on a live series called The Catalogue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 at museums and concert halls in the U.S. and Europe. The dazzling, multimedia performances present eight of the group’s albums—Autobahn (1974), Radio-Activity (1975), Trans Europe Express (1977), The Man-Machine (1978), Computer World (1981), Techno Pop (1986), The Mix (1991), and Tour de France (2003)—played in order over the course of eight nights. But its comprehensive-sounding title notwithstanding, The Catalogue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 is not the “complete” Kraftwerk, far from it. Before their 1974 breakthrough, they recorded and released three albums that they've since distanced themselves from (they’re available through nefarious means if you’re curious). Outside of the studio, Kraftwerk was also busy as a live act during the early 1970s and left behind plenty of recorded evidence of the period, handily charting their journey to the Autobahn (with plenty of fascinating side trips thrown in for good measure).
Kraftwerk’s principals, Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider-Esleben, first made music together as part of the delightfully named Organisation zur Verwirklichung Gemeinsamer Musikkonzepte (Organisation for the Realization of Common Music Concepts), a freeform unit that recorded a lone album, Tone Floats, before disbanding. Amidst the careening polyrhythms and pan-ethnic fusions of the group, it might be a little hard to hear hints of Kraftwerk’s future explorations in the entertaining clip of the Organisation playing live in the spring of 1970. But Hütter’s airy synths and Schneider’s heavily treated flute would form the building blocks of their sound in years to come.
Later in 1970, Kraftwerk was born, as Hutter and Schneider brought future Neu! drummer Klaus Dinger into the fold. A remarkable performance filmed for the Rockapalast TV program showed up in full on YouTube recently and it’s an essential document of the band in its formative stages. The music here is wildly experimental, occasionally assaultive stuff, heavily indebted to Stockhausen and other avant garde mavericks. Armed with banks of electronic equipment, Kraftwerk shift tempos at will, conjure up slightly terrifying low frequency vibrations and generally wreak havoc. From time to time, Dinger stomps out something resembling a conventional beat, but generally speaking, this is Kraftwerk at its most challenging and uncompromising. The frequent cuts to the audience members are great as well, showing variously bemused/amused/confused reactions (sometimes all at once). Whether they loved it or hated it, it’s safe to say the young crowd had never heard music quite like this before.
In 1971, Kraftwerk were creating something slightly more recognizable in terms of genre, although it’s definitely not the genre they became known for. A gig broadcast over the airwaves in Bremen captures an at-times wholly unrecognizable Kraftwerk playing a pummeling set of loud, electric guitar-centric music. The group has certainly never been known for being “heavy,” really, but that’s exactly what most of the Bremen set is; indeed, the opening track is an almost Black Sabbath-esque dirge called “Heavy Metal Kids.” It’s very possible that Hütter, Schneider, and Dinger had their tongue at least slightly in cheek during this tune, but all the same, they come across as a more-than-convincing hard rock act, especially on the wah-inflected burner, “Stratovarius.” The band has often stated their love for the Detroit proto punk of the late 1960s, so parts of this show may well be their tribute to the Stooges and the MC5. A strange—but pretty awesome—road-not-taken for Kraftwerk.
Hütter took a leave of absence from the band later in 1971, but Schneider and Dinger plowed forward, recruiting guitarist Michael Rother for a brief period. A live studio performance of this lineup on the Beat Club television program is another tantalizing taste of what might have been. The open-ended, psychedelic sound is closer to what Dinger and Rother would shortly get up to in Neu!, with beautiful clouds of impressionist guitar drifting over propulsive krautrock drums. Schneider fits right in, adding a pastoral vibe to the proceedings with his effects-laden flute and strummed violin. The Beat Club clip is one of the real gems of Kraftwerk’s early work. It’s a shame this lineup didn’t last longer.
With the return of Hütter, Kraftwerk began moving in a more, well, Kraftwerkian direction. In this 1973 clip, the group plays with a drummer, but he’s manning what looks like a homemade synth-drum pad, tapping out a light electronic beat behind a cascading piano line and drifting flute. The gentle and lovely “Tanzmuzik,” which appeared on Kraftwerk’s third album, Ralf and Florian, is a signpost directing us to the perfect symmetry (and poppier sensibility) of Autobahn.
Of course, there were still a few bumps in the road. One of the earliest known live performances of “Autobahn,” recorded in April of 1974, shows Hütter and Schneider grappling for more than 40 minutes with what would become their signature song. It’s occasionally a mess, but it’s a glorious, thrilling mess; far from the man-machine lockstep of later years, there’s a jazzy interplay at work here, not to mention a devilish sense of humor. They even create what sounds like a sonic car crash at one point. Kraftwerk had spent the past few years confounding audiences, but the crowd on this recording seem to love what they’re hearing. The rest of the world wasn’t far behind.