German electronic pop artist Felix Kubin (born Felix Knoth) scores Dadaist cartoons of the future, as imagined by retro-futurists on a budget. His music, beyond his electro-acoustic works as part of the duo Klangkrieg, reflects an admiration for turn-of-the-80s German electronic music of Kraftwerk, Der Plan, Palais Schaumburg and the "Neue Deutsche Welle" (or "German New Wave"). He even uses similar equipment, eschewing the laptops and software that seem practically required in most modern electronica. Kubin's brand of pop is loopy, yet straight-faced, as if "irony" is the furthest thing from his mind even as seriously old-school organs and drum machines suggest kitsch. He's worked with fellow serious-artist-come-future-pop-practitioner Asmus Tietchens, and like him, places melody and traditional song structure at least as high as digital sound and beat manipulation. For that reason, his music might seem quaint to people used to something more abstract. Then again, given his preferences for absurd imagery (google for photos of him performing in a space suit or dressed as a 19th Century European military officer), "quaint" might not be the best word for him.
Matki Wandalki is Kubin's third full-length CD (including last year's Tetchy Teenage Tapes release featuring material from the early 80s begun at the ripe old age of 11), and is an almost flawless collection of compact, buoyant electro-pop. It's a bit on the demented side, with bizarre synthesizer sounds, painstakingly tweaked in much the same manner as his influences did before the dawn of the digital age. In fact, Kubin also has a background in video art, including films and even producing his own comic book, and this album reflects a skewed innocence; his songs (usually instrumental) are bouncy and immediately endearing, even as they sound better suited for some lost Richard Elfman or David Lynch short than a kiddee matinee.
"Lumière Belge" is, at over six minutes, one of the longer tracks on the album, yet like most of Kubin's music, seems effortlessly compact. Furthermore, despite being produced entirely by an array of analog synthesizers and other proto-robotic equipment, nothing about it seems necessarily tied to the idea of "electronic" music. That is, its faux-spy movie strains and driving rhythm could just as easily been arranged for a surf-rock band, or Nelson Riddle's orchestra. Kubin, like his true ancestors Raymond Scott, Mort Garson and Bruce Haack, approaches electronic music as a means rather than an end, and succeeds in pure songcraft where most of his more overtly experimental peers fail. "Hissi Hissi" is a micro-symphony of simple, yet typically infectious melodies. The goofy 60s organ that carries the tune, and its ancient sci-fi cousins that flesh out the rest of the arrangement, is both cute and strange-- and never obscures the efficiency and ingenuity of Kubin's arrangement.
Occasionally, as on the title track and "Hit Me, Provider" (one of two songs featuring his vocals), Kubin draws upon the clipped, stylish German techno similar to that of Ellen Allien and the Bpitch roster, though decidedly less concerned with the dancefloor than spaz for its own sake. Apparently, Kubin's idea of dance music is winding up his drum machine as fast as it will go, and setting his synths to stun (check the laser beam melody on "Hit Me", and dare yourself to turn it up). Of course, style isn't really his game, as the Lionel Richie cover will attest, but part of the charm of Matki Wandalki is that it exists so completely in a world of its own that it's beside the point to draw comparisons to contemporary scenes. Kubin is one of the few true originals in music, electronica or otherwise, and he's at his best here.
