Back on the Autobahn

If you happen to be in your mid-to-late 30's or older, you may remember when Kraftwerk, the massively influential German robot-pop band, actually released albums. The last official release by the band, Electric Cafe, came out during my senior year in high school, way back in 1986. Since then, the members have assiduously avoided publicity of any sort, becoming a Kraut-synthesizer version of J.D. Salinger.

Now, though, they are set to release a new album, Tour de France 03, which was supposed to have coincided with this year's Tour de France, but got delayed due to Kraftwerk's borderline obsessive-compulsive perfectionism. But don't think they are coming out of their hermitic shell. Their infrequent concerts are still performed more often than not by "painstakingly constructed robot doubles" (pictured below) and the remaining members refuse any interviews that might touch - however tangentially - on their music.

The Guardian's Alexis Petridis went to great lengths to try to track down the hyper-reclusive musicians after negotiations for an interview broke down. After all was said and done, though, Petridis did manage to uncover the following:

I have flown from England to Düsseldorf, made innumerable telephone calls, wandered around its streets for a day, illegally entered a building, and really annoyed one of the city's top photographers. And what is the sum total of knowledge gleaned from this experience? Have I gained any insight into the fascistic overtones of some of their early statements? Have I discovered the key to an appeal so vast that people will fill a venue just to see the band's former percussionist play live, a decade after his departure? Have I even found out whether or not the Düsseldorf accent is a Teutonic equivalent of Brummie? No.

My investigations have exclusively revealed that one of Kraftwerk's members owns a collapsible bike.

The veil remains unpierced...