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Wolfsheim Live At Atlanta's Masquerade Club 3/22/04
Date: 4/01/2004
Author: Caroline Saffer
The disparity between listening to a recording of electronic
music and actually experiencing it in a live context can
be both a disappointment and a revelation. The layering
of a many tracks resulting in a full sound belies the stark
fact that such compositions are frequently crafted using
little more than a few tools of technology, most importantly
a computer. The performance by German outfit Wolfsheim on
March 22 at the Masquerade club in Atlanta, GA both brought
this reality to light and then pressed the boundaries of
the sound their fans expected by incorporating some surprise
elements.
Wolfsheim
is part of a music movement coming largely out of Germany
and Scandinavia that d.j. Krys Rader (DJ Tone Deaf) of Columbia,
SC, has termed "synthdustrial" – a combination
of synthpop beats and electronics with the darker, harder
sensibility of the gothic-industrial sound.
The
group consists of vocalist Peter Heppner and Markus Reinhardt,
who orchestrates the songs’ programming. Together,
they have created some of the most intelligent modern dance
music with their introspective lyrics and atmospheric effects,
compositions that take the listener through a sine wave
of emotions, building and transitioning smoothly through
styles before ultimately cycling back.
For
a band who has achieved such widespread success in Europe
since their inception in 1987, and has received this year’s
Echo (German National Music Award) nomination for best national
band, Wolfsheim, like their contemporaries VNV Nation and
Apoptygma Berzerk, have still received relatively little
exposure in the U.S.
Thanks
to Metropolis Records, however, who took it upon themselves
to re-release the group’s 1998 album Spectators in
1999, as well as put out their most recent offering, Casting
Shadows (2003), accessibility to Wolfsheim’s sound
is growing in America.
The one-and-a-half hour set took place on the top ("Heaven")
level of the Masquerade, a rustic, almost Medieval environment
of stone wall and rough wooden infrastructure; with an audience
of about 200, the show took on an intimate air.
The
stage, positioned at the far end or the room, was decorated
with pyramidal and tall, boxy structures fashioned of a
light material to reflect the glowing violet and green stage
lights.
Considering
that this is Wolfsheim’s first U.S. tour, the duo
took the stage humbly, without much overt excitement, and
positioned themselves at the right corner of the stage.
Heppner, dressed casually in blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt,
and a dark, zippered sweater stood before a podium with
an open binder of notes in front of him, while Reinhardt
stood to the side to operate the keyboard and laptop. At
the very back of the stage, computer-generated abstract
imagery spun around a circular projection plane.
>From the beginning, Heppner seemed anxious or unhappy
about the technicalities of the set. As the first echoing
vocals of "Underneath the Veil" from Casting Shadows
emerged from the speakers, followed by ringing piano riffs,
all delivered exactly like the record version, he glanced
continually at Reinhardt, who was alternately playing the
keyboard and tweaking the laptop, as though seeking confirmation
that the music sounded disagreeable. Standing in place a
little awkwardly, he swayed his body slightly, leaning forward
to sing into the podium’s microphone. He missed a
line of lyrics as he shook his head in exasperation, smiling
ironically.
The
same pattern continued through the more ambient "Wundervoll,"
"And I . . .," and the gentle love song "Care
For You," all also off Casting Shadows, with Heppner
actually exiting the stage several times. Aside from a couple
instances when the melody, beats, and vocals missed a step
in time, the sound was actually quite clear; the glitches
went almost entirely unnoticed by the audience, full of
worshipful evidence.
At
the point at which Heppner seemed ready to throw the towel
in the basket, some tension dissipated with the arrival
of a live drummer and guitarist to perform "Heroin,
She Said," one of the more popular songs from Spectators.
With the reinforcement of the acoustic instrumentation,
adding a new feel to the song, which is originally all electronic,
Heppner seemed to relax and move more deeply into the song,
telling a familiar story of drug addiction as the audience
sang along.
The drummer and guitarist remained on stage for most of
the show’s duration, adding layers of organic sound
to Reinhardt’s synthesized sounds and programmed beats;
Wolfsheim’s sound is complex enough that the additions
did not compromise the electronic renditions of the songs,
but rather explored further possibilities within them.
Amidst
covering the gamut of tracks on Casting Shadows, including
the tense, psychologically masochistic "Find You’re
Gone," the slow-grooving "Kein Zurück,"
which actually features acoustic guitar on the album, and
"I Won’t Believe," which moved from smooth,
calm electronica into an all-out rock song, connected by
a beat segment that gives a nod to old-school hip-hop, the
group also revisited some older material from Spectators,
such as the sensual "Künstliche Welten" and
"Blind." Delving even further back, they covered
their first big single from 1991, "The Sparrows and
the Nightingales,"a contemplative piece with a more
classic goth sound, soaring keyboards and straightforward
beats.
The undeniable climax of the show, however, was the last
song of the second and last encore. Heppner introduced it
slyly as "the one song we never play at our concerts
in Germany," which translated as the one song that
has above and beyond achieved success in the U.S. clubs
– "Once in a Lifetime," a song about confronting
one’s spirituality amidst the chaos of loss, from
Spectators.
Throughout
the entire concert, it felt almost surreal to be in front
a band playing live whose music you heard only publicly
regularly on the dance floor. As Heppner began, "It’s
getting dark . . . too soon . . . a threatening silence
. . ." amidst screams from the audience, the energy
in the room was as raw as a throbbing dance floor. As he
peaked with the chorus, "Calm down my heart . . . don’t
beat so fast . . . / don’t be afraid just once in
a lifetime," it was clear that more than a few hearts
in the crowd were overworking in adulation of a memorable
performance.
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