ABOUT HAND WERK
At some point, Man tired of wild berries and raw meat and began inventing useful tools, which led to machines, and, before he knew it, he was surrounded by so much technology, he was nearly a machine himself. This is how a group of German students found themselves a few decades ago, surrounded by mountains of equipment in their Kling Klang studio. There the result was revolutionary hits such as Roboter, Autobahn, Computerliebe (Computer Love) and Die Mensch Maschine (The Man-Machine).
For 32 years, the album MenschMaschine (Man Machine) slept behind an enchanted wall of synthesizers, Ataris, and soldered wires waiting to be discovered by Oli Kuster (piano), Domenic Landolf (saxophone), Christoph Utzinger (bass) and Kevin Chesham (drums). With their animal intestines, furs, bamboo leaves, and sheet rock they shoved the towers of computer racks aside to let Computer Love awaken.
The jazz quartet named MenschMaschine borrow from the overflowing pool of fragmentary songs by Kraftwerk, grooves from which so many, such as Jay-Z, still cut samples, and melodies that stick to the ear canal like tar. However, MenschMaschine does much more than simply steal a few good songs.
This Swiss band breathes organic life into the robot. They take Terminator's sunglasses off and send him on a boar hunt. Instead of speeding Audi Quattros on the highway, chocolate bunnies frolic. The pocket calculator is a pocket knife. Jazz can sometimes be like ketchup. Put it on everything, on 2s and 4s, with a little reharmonization here and there and suddenly a well-balanced pop menu is a child's birthday party, where every child is showing off. MenschMaschine could not be further from ketchup jazz. Wonderful songs stay wonderful songs but gain a new dimension. Kuster, Landolf, Utzinger, and Chesham dip the old number ones into southern sun, and techno songs from the land of sausages are warmed by burning embers.
It seems the band's musicians have the same credo as their former colleagues from Dusseldorf: each music man working behind their music machine. This sounds technical, almost like political theory, but it simply means four excellent soloists stretch their ears as wide as possible and then make music together.