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Rating: "Tabula rasa". Or the point of no return in the music of Einstürzende Neubauten. The Berlin sound terrorists completely change their approach to music, or rather the perspective of observation, moving from the total madness of their early works (capable of driving you and your neighbors crazy) to a more deliberate form, less theatrical and expressionist and more "musical". Simply put, after destructuring music as a whole, they now try to piece together the destroyed and violated fragments of what remains, creating what is commonly defined as "music" without abandoning the very peculiar sounds of a "homemade" instrumentation. (Which other band plays with barrels, shopping carts, iron pipes, concrete blocks, classic hammers, and pneumatic tires?)
In addition to the aforementioned "instruments", Hacke's bass is in the foreground here, and Blixa Bargeld dedicates himself to a singing style that is the natural continuation of what was experimented on "Hamletmaschine", an album that had shyly proposed a somewhat uncertain change.
However, the group's identity seems more intact than ever, as made clear by the dull tolling of the start of "die interimsliebenden", a sulfurous march that anticipates tribalism and sounds dear to Trent Reznor, which even allows for a certain danceability.
A round of harmonics opens the cantautorial "Zebulon", an unusual track for the Berlin ensemble, complete with back vocals and a hopping melody; this continues until it reaches three minutes, where it transforms into a compulsive punk rock with metallic percussion (or better said, metallurgical).
The discourse continues with the very refined "Blume", a chrysanthemum to be precise; sung by the icy voice of Anita Lane, it opens the first industrial suite of the album, but also serves as an extractable episode from the context, a hypothetical single.
"12305 (die nacht)" is presented heavy, dark, and swampy, reminiscent of the madness of their early works, though not particularly incisive or dramatic. It is the presence of melody and Bargeld's subdued singing that prevents total disorientation of the listener, allowing them not to be swallowed into the vortex and in the end view the usual Neubauten from an external perspective.
Because if in previous albums one was sucked in and physically suffered through the listening, here it feels like being a spectator of a terrible event, but from behind a one-way mirror, a position from which safety is never compromised.
Through two transitional episodes ("Sie" and the dark ambient of "Wuste") we arrive where one would not want to arrive. The suite "Headcleaner" is exactly as its meaning suggests, a persistent and numerous drill that insinuates itself into your cerebral cortex. It is pain, it is anguish, it is unease and above all urban discomfort, never fully dormant but completely and orderly metabolized. This is demonstrated by Blixa Bargeld's suffocated (and suffocating) braying over a placid but lysergic base of detuned guitar playing harmonics. The buildings have finally collapsed once again, and the glass that previously protected us now seems much thinner.
Ultimately, an opera that may seem like a compromise, but is most likely an indication of artistic maturity: the dynamiters of the past have now landed on more refined songs, the city once seen as an oppression for man-beast is now a setting and a new starting point for an art that is hurt, but terribly elegant.
Einstürzende Neubauten demonstrate they possess crystalline class and unparalleled charisma, and set the stakes for a path that continues up to the beautiful "Alles Wieder Offen", which will most likely hold pleasant surprises.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Zebulon (03:42)
Lass meine Mitte deine Achse sein
um die dein Leib sich windet
Lass deine Mitte meine Achse sein
um die dein Leib sich windet
Lass mich zwischen deinen Säulen wandeln
deinen Säulengang entlang
Lass mich nicht zögern noch zieren
lustwandeln, verlustieren
in dir verlieren
nur sie wird das Licht als erste sehen...
Lass mich dein Delta durchschwimmen
geneigten Hauptes durchqueren
Lass mich kosten das wahre Salz der Welt
Zungenfisch in deinem See sein
Den Gang der Welt auf allen Vieren
als karnales Schauspiel inszenieren
den Frühling zelebrieren
Nun sie! Die Polkappen schmelzen
Der Hügel nicht erfroren
Die Axt ist lange schon angelegt
den Garten zu deflorieren
etwas Wichtiges zu exhumieren
Saliva und Honig in einem Mund addieren
deine Seele zu exhumieren
Nun zieh mich dir nach
der Winter ist vorbei, Schneeschmelze!
Ich komme
Aus Irrtum, aus Siechtum,
aus dem Feuerstentum
derer von Sinnen dich zu freien
Für immer zu befreien
Nur sie wird das Licht als erste sehen...
04 12305(te Nacht) (04:12)
Dies ist meine 12305te Nacht
Die ersten paar tausend,
die kannst du vergessen,
ich hab es auch getan
Diese hier ist auch schon fast vorbei
Was bleibt ist Nikotin und gelbe Finger
Viele vorher die habe ich verpulvert
und kurz- und kleingehackt
in vielen verausgabt, verbraucht, gefluechtet
verfluechtigt, den Drachen gejagt
In einer Handvoll war ich nahe dran
meist am Ende, nah am Ende,
gegen Ende, gen morgen
voruebergehend selbst ertraenkt
Was bleibt ist Alkohol und dumpfe Traeume
Mache gingen endlos und ich aus und los
zu warten wo doch kein Bus faehrt
alle vergingen, bis jetzt, bis 12305
In machen warst du vorhanden
aber ich war nicht ganz da
In vielen hab' ich dich im Schlaf gesucht
In vielen hab' ich dich schlafend gesucht
Was bleibt?
Von hier bis Mars war naeher
als von mir bis zu die
Ich schien aus Antimaterie zu sein -
gefaehrlich!
Es war meine 12305te Nacht
In der du vor mir erschienst
Du liesst deine Augen leuchten
wohl nicht von ungefaehr
Du warst auf derselben Suche und
aus demselben Grund
zog's dich wohl auch zu mir
Insgeheim warst du mein Spiegelbild
Ich zog dich und zu mir
Ich war in dir - zu seh'n; und umgekehrt
Weck die Liebe nicht
bevor es ihr nicht selbst gefaellt
Bevor es ihr nicht selbst gefaellt
-------------------------------------
[English translation:
12305 (th Night)]
-------------------------------------
This is my 12305th night
the first few thousand
you might as well forget
just as I have also
this one here is almost finished too
what remains is nicotine and yellow fingers
many before I've frittered to powder
and diced and minced into bits
in many expended, exhausted, escaped
extinguished, chasing the dragon
in a handful I got very close
towards the end, close to the end,
right at the end, towards morning,
in its passing drowned
what remains is alcohol and numbed dreams
some were endless and I set out and off
to wait where nonetheless no bus goes
all passed by till now, till 12305
in some you were present
but I was not entirely there
in many I sought you in my sleep
in many I sought you sleeping
what remains?
from here to mars was closer
than from me to you
I seemed to be made of anti-matter -
fairly dangerous!
it was my 12305th night
in which you appeared
you made your eyes glow
I'm sure with some fair reason
you were seeking the same thing and
for the same reason
you too were then drawn to me
you were my mirror image secretly
I drew you up and towards me
inside you - I saw myself; and inversely
Do not stir up love
before it is itself willing
before it is itself willing)
07 Headcleaner: I. Zentrifuge -- Stabs -- Rotlichtachse Propaganda / II. Einhorn / III. Marschlied... (09:55)
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