We visited the Sonneveld
House, a graceful example of high Modernist architecture...
...and interior decoration completed in 1933.
We travelled by train from Rotterdam to Tilburg.
The experience was a far cry from the thunderous clatter of Metal
On Metal, Kraftwerk's percussive coda to the anthemic Trans-Europe-Express.
However, the song echoed silently around us as we sat on the upper
deck of our smoothly efficient double decker carriage.
Leaving the station, we saw hundreds of bicycles, a familiar sight
in the Netherlands.
At 10pm that evening Kraftwerk began to play.
Standing at their laptops, the four men played the role of elder statesmen
of the last two decades of popular music with typical humility.
They sang of the hopes of the past, of the nostalgic potential of
technology (trains, cars, bicycles, computers and so on). Their music
also spoke of the present and future, creating space for contemplation
of our condition.
Two hours of songs, arranged to the familiar setlist, but brimming
with visceral, synaesthetic, resonant pleasure. Each of the three
times that the group left the stage, Florian Schneider departed hurriedly,
bent over. I hope that this was not a sign of serious illness.
Partway through the concert I thought of the term 'metonym'. Was this
the forgotten word used by the group to describe their reductive approach
to texts?
I danced almost continuously. The next day as I made my way to the
station, on my return journey to London, the repetitive movement of
my limbs made me momentarily unsure whether I was walking or dancing,
a human being or a machine.
After the concert while we danced at the aftershow
event, Dan's brother pointed out that Fritz Hilpert was signing autographs
by the stage door.
Amy and Gabriel were pleased and impressed to receive their cards
though Gabriel was a little confused whether a robot or a human had
signed his card.
Many thanks to Dan and Andrew and his family for
putting me up. |
