Marco Haas is a man with a problem. On one hand, the guy can make twitchy European electro-tech with the best of them-- whether it's the buzzy malfunctioning-synth tics we usually get from Bpitch Control records, the detailed pulse we usually get from Kompakt records, or just dubbing out into grainy space. On the other hand, his T.Raumschmiere project has a shtick of its own: ultra-heavy monster-truck bangers, cartoon heavy metal, trucker-hatted skull logos, and live sets that make you hope he's not going to try and smash his laptop at the end. And as of his last full-length, these two things co-existed beautifully; as of his last few clenched-teeth tweaker-techno singles, they were positively losing their seams.
But Haas has a problem: Let that cartoon tech-metal ramp up (or camp up) just a step too far, and it turns into something kind of, well, uncool-- crossing the line from lovably brutal Germanic electronics into something sub-Rammstein, a kind of mallrat military-industrial metal that doesn't really square with the guy's skill set. And worse: Once you've let that particular monster come rumbling out of the bag, aren't your subtly crafted electro-grinds going to seem a little pale in comparison-- a little, say, not the main event?
Blitzkrieg Pop, sadly enough, is all about that problem, and it does you the favor of laying out the stakes from the get-go: "Sick Like Me", the first proper song, takes us further than we've previously gone into the world of Raumschmiere-as-rocker. Now there are guitars. Now Haas sounds like he's from Cleveland, and raised on a steady diet of Nine Inch Nails' "Wish". Now Haas imagines calling people "schmucks" is a real tough-guy put-down (on two different tracks!). There certainly isn't much "tech" left in it. And as far as fake-metal goes, it's alright-- dorkily, adorably amped-up, like a wannabe-grim Andrew WK, and certainly better than the title track, which competes with, and mostly loses to, any number of one-hit nu-metal chancers from three-year-old episodes of "Headbanger's Ball".
Yes, those are the rockers that bookend this album-- leaving the remaining half-hour open for Haas to worry his way around That Problem. In spots, it's the old Raumschmiere-as-usual: Grim schaffel throb on "All Systems Go", or Ellen Allien guest-vamping on "Diving in Whiskey", which feels like a flatter-- more earthbound take on her own last album. But hard-man habits are hard to break, and Haas can't resist going out on a limb with a little "now is the time on Sprockets where we RAWK"-- easy-to-resist fake-punk on "A Mess" leading straight into some over-the-top hair-metal vocals from Judith Juillerat on "A Very Loud Lullaby". Leading straight into some wonderfully creepy insectoid crawl on "Der Grottenholm", but let's face it: Once you've tried your shouts on, your nice subtle crawls tend to get overshadowed.
Which leaves basically one keeper: "An Army of Watt", a track that bothers doing the one thing that makes the Raumschmiere shtick work-- revving functional, fist-in-the-air dance music into a clenched-teeth old-school brutalism. And I guess now we just go on hoping Haas knows the sound of his floor bangers is his bread and butter-- and that fake-metal techno doesn't actually need to push the envelope into just plain fake metal, no matter how fun or logical it seems.
