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Rating: Given that concerts by such important figures in the history of music should not be criticized but only recounted, I am about to talk about what I think of the Hallogallo, or Michael Rother + Friends. The aforementioned friends are Aaron Mullan on bass (member of Tall Firs, a band under the Ecstatic Peace! label by Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth) and Steve Shelley on drums (member of Sonic Youth).
The concert starts perfectly on time, just after the excellent performance of the band opening the concert, the Mamuthones: a mix of electronics, Vampire Rodents, and Jim Thirlwell (Scraping Foetus off the Wheel).
The opening is entrusted, as it happens, to the first track of the first Neu! album; Hallogallo. I am struck by the innovations brought to this track: Rother hides behind his table overflowing with effects and his laptop, assaulting the audience’s ears with terrible sound lashes, metallic yet incredibly deep; indeed, the sounds are filled with a myriad of effects, so much that the excellent overlap of them (particularly great use of Chorus, Delay, Flanger, and Phaser was made) makes the metallic sound of distortion almost human.
Everything is often looped, creating blended layers of sound, thanks also to the “panic” effect, with which the guitarist has decided to describe his landscapes. The extensive use of electronic means with such wisdom made me reflect: where would this man have gone if in 1972 he had at his disposal the tools we have today? I immediately answered myself: it is probably more appropriate to think about how today’s means were actually designed starting from what his ideas were in 1972.
The tracks follow with ever-pulsating rhythms and developments that are partly improvised and partly well-defined. Each begins with Rother juggling with the tools on his table: he generates a sound, modifies it, adds effects, possibly loops it, looks at Shelley and Mullan, and then starts. These are pieces taken from the main works that the guitarist boasts in his career: Neu! and Harmonia. The succession of the various tracks, each extended beyond ten minutes, hypnotizes the audience that moves, stirs, is dragged by the rhythm, and stunned by the flow of thoughts expressed through the guitar.
The power of the sound and the synergy among the group members is remarkable, although Aaron Mullan certainly did not strive to do anything more than simple accompaniment. Probably that’s what he wanted (or was asked) to do, but in my opinion, a bit more initiative, without drastically changing the accompaniment lines, would certainly not have hurt.
A separate chapter is deserved by Steve Shelley and his role within Hallogallo. Surely he is not Dinger, but it makes no sense to make comparisons: Hallogallo are not Neu!. They played Neu! songs, but the approach is very different. That being said, it is fair to recognize that Steve Shelley was impeccable: his great technique on drums was not hindered by the idea of copying those who had already recorded those tracks; rather, he built on what was already done and personalized it. The obsessive repetitiveness typical of these tracks was implemented, where possible, with small adjustments: dynamics of the instrument, some variations on the theme, a drum fill that wasn’t there before or a break different from expected. This too is art: the rhythmic discourse remains the same, but the form has changed. All enriched with the immense class and energy that are inherent to this musician.
The thing that struck me the most, in fact, I only say now: the behavior of Michael Rother on stage. He was cold and seemingly insensible almost the entire time, rarely granting a smile to the audience, and the only time he let his voice be heard was midway through the concert when he introduced the other band members. It was interesting to note that often Shelley, who acted somewhat like a conductor in giving the pieces a conclusion, couldn’t catch the guitarist's eye to signal that it was time to end the track, as Rother was so engaged in developing a stream of consciousness without realizing what was happening around him. Instinctively, my thoughts went back to those who accompanied the development of these ideas in the past, and I want to explain why by recounting an anecdote I read some time ago on a website.
As is well known, Rother and Dinger got to know each other well during their brief experience as members of Kraftwerk in 1971. When Ralf Hütter left the group during the tour for their first album, Kraftwerk was reduced to a three-piece band: Florian Schneider on organ and flute, Michael Rother on guitar, and Klaus Dinger on drums. The latter two decided to embark on a different musical path from what Schneider had in mind: they tried to develop a work more focused on pop art and total music, noise, and streams of consciousness. Experimenting with a new musical style, more oriented towards an emotional development of the track within a well-defined, repetitive, obsessive, and hypnotic rhythmic structure, Neu! envisioned, among other things, what would later, within a few years, be called industrial music.
Despite their incredible synergy and the impressive amount of ideas and insights the two were able to convey in their works, something was wrong. They had come to a head already during their first tour, in which Rother declared he realized that Neu! were not a band for live performances due to the extremely different styles of the two members in engaging with the audience. Dinger was a genuine fury: during concerts, he would often wound himself, playing with bleeding limbs. The audience was enthralled by Dinger's performances, by his living the performance so intensely that he became the sacrifice. On his part, Rother never understood why the audience was so struck by this approach of his colleague, and, since he neither approved nor shared this type of performance, he decided to hide behind his effects, focusing simply on developing a musical discourse during concerts.
I like to think that Rother's coldness during the concert I attended is, despite everything, also a way to feel closer to Klaus Dinger, the engine of his ideas.
Ah, one last thing: as soon as Steve Shelley got on stage, I thought, “how cool, he’s on stage with a friend.” Then I realized it was actually his belly.
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