Even earnest young men with the world on their shoulders sometimes wear their hearts on their sleeves. It’s surprising that [a]Blumfeld[/a], named after a Kafka character and, grr, fond of using the musical idiom of post-punk Manchester to explore the politics of their native Germany, should choose their third album to indulge a fondness for pop musik.
Not as academics having a [a]Beach Boys[/a] flutter, either, but revelling in the smooth lines and synth strings of classy chart action. ‘Tausend Trdnen Tief’ could be Tarwater running mad and covering George Michael’s ‘Jesus To A Child’; the lovers’ disco of ‘The Lord Of Song’ formation dances in a satin jumpsuit, while ‘Kommst Du Mit In Den Alltag’ is a replicant equation of how Crowded House sound to our earth ears.
It might all be an evil prank were it not so tender, so controlled, and inevitably, so worryingly wrong. Especially the superbly sinister bend of ‘Mein System Kennt Keine Grenzen’, paranoid delusion wired up to a school choir of Linda Blairs, or ‘So Lebe Ich’ obsessively twisting around To Rococo Rot’s palindromic logic. Even if you’re German, the opening six minutes of spoken word about the meaning of life must count as uncompromising, but it’s a strange emotional discipline [a]Blumfeld[/a] exert. Hearts on their sleeves, stopwatch in their hands, timing every beat.