Kraftwerk: 12345678 The Catalogue

A case study of the blurry lines between humanity and technology

Germany’s Kraftwerk—despite portraying themselves as cold, clinical, precise machinery—was also vague and indeterminable enough to be everything to everybody. Afrika Bambataa and hip-hop claimed them as their own, as did Iggy Pop and David Bowie. Same goes for the dance floors of house and techno, not to mention the New Romantics and anyone who’s deployed drum machines and synths in the last 40 years to mimic human sentiment. For all of their portrayal as robotic entities, Kraftwerk’s music has always studied the increasingly blurry lines between humanity and technology, carefully wrapping trenchant observations in their winsome, electrified lullabies that merge classical structures to electro-pop succinctness. Autobahn and Trans-Europe Express sang—alright, detachedly intoned—of peoples’ travels and the paths of (electronic) rhythm, while albums like Radioactivity and Computer World explored telecommunications and the spread of computer technology. While ’80s entries Electric Café and The Mix remain fun if meager offerings (and the band’s continued disregard and non-digitalization of their groundbreaking first three albums remains a travesty), this set reminds us that we too are the robots.