The room is dark and humid. The only light I see in front of me seems hundreds of feet away. With each step I take the floor beneath me feels as if it’s getting softer and softer, limiting my stride as I make my way forward into the abyss. Where am I? How did I get here? I can’t remember where I was prior to this black hole I find myself in. In the distance I hear noises; an organ, what appears to be drums, and garbled electronic bleeps and blips. It sounds like a hippie love-in in Hell. There’s a feeling of being on the edge of sanity with the music I hear. Like it’s building to something, but what I can’t tell. It’s like some radio frequency that keeps going from John Cage to Morton Subotnick to Jefferson Airplane to the early sound experiments of Pauline Oliveros with no rhyme or reason.
Is that something burning that I smell?
Is that someone yelling in the distance?
Just when I think I’m getting closer to the light at the end of this endless tunnel I can feel myself being pulled backwards as my feet rise from the spongy floor and I feel weightless. In my mind I imagine myself as a helium balloon, rising from the ground and making my way through a cloud-filled night sky. No way to gauge where I am or how far I’ve risen into the atmosphere. The light I once thought I was gaining traction with is but a dust speck beneath me. Wherever I have entered, I don’t foresee myself leaving any time soon. There’s still music in the distance. It’s like some acid-burnt guitar jam with flute and feedback coalescing in this galactic womb I feel myself floating in. My skin moist from the humidity and aged air I’m surrounded by, it’s as if I’m beginning to melt into my surroundings. I can’t tell where my flesh ends and the blackness begins, all the while still rising into the atmosphere.
Is that a voice I hear? It sounds like it’s talking in reverse. Am I still wearing pants?
I think I see another way out. The noise is deafening around me. I need to find an exit to this madness before I succumb to the insanity that surrounds me. I keep hearing “Genesis, Genesis” over and over. Is it a message from whatever exists in this darkness? What does it want with me? And how did I get here?
And where are my goddamn pants?
Hello everyone and welcome to another episode of Komische Theater with your host, J Hübner. Tonight we brought you the one act play, Electronic Meditation, written by Edgar Froese, Klaus Schulze, and Conrad Schnitzer. It’s the story of one man’s madness taking the form of an existential crisis inside his own subconscious. He grapples with the confines of adulthood and maturity as he becomes a father for the 5th time in 6 years and wonders how life would have been different had he sold his father’s Schnauzer farm and left the Leipzig countryside for the leather bars of Munich. Spanking was always his passion, but a traditional lifestyle is what he found himself in. It ends with our Schnauzer farmer-in-crisis finding himself dissipating in the wet heat of his own crumbling subconscious.
Hey there, J. Hubner here. No, not the host of Komische Theater, just the boring Midwestern clod you know and love(you love me? You don’t even know me, fella.) I’m coming to the end of a lovely week off from work. Lots of cleaning projects and lots of cerveza was enjoyed. Movies and shows were watched ,shopping was done, and on Friday, November 25th I hit up Karma Records of Warsaw and saw my pal John V in honor of Black Friday Record Store Day. I hadn’t even looked at the lists of what was coming out, and frankly I didn’t really give a holy hoot about it. But earlier in the week John posted some of the goods that were going to be sold on that consumers-be-damned day of days and I saw Tangerine Dream’s Electronic Meditation was being reissued. Well shit, that’s one I didn’t have and hadn’t yet bought an OG pressing. I guess that means I need to buy that bastard.
So yesterday I jumped in the van, the boy and I got some groceries and before we headed home we stopped into Karma and I snagged the TD record, as well as Future Island’s Singles. It was 10% off everything in the store and I’d wanted that one for a long time now(it’s brilliant, btw.) I almost bought Slayer’s Christ Illusion, too. Alas, that will be for another time.
I’ve now listened to Electronic Meditation twice and I have to say I’m pretty underwhelmed. Here’s the thing, Froese was in his artistic infancy, man. He was feeling his way through the darkness and figuring out how to expand minds. In order to expand minds, you’ve gotta learn to expand your own. Edgar Froese was still figuring that shit out with that first record. I had high hopes with both Klaus Schulze and Conrad Schnitzer on this with him, but alas with the exception of a little aural weirdness, this one just comes off as just overreaching. There’s a lot of free noise and electronic warbling, but Froese had yet to find that existential vein he would eventually tap into with Alpha Centauri, Zeit, Atem, and then the masterpiece Phaedra. Froese hooked up with Christopher Franke after this record and things seemed to start to come together quickly. There’s too much of that dated “jamming” noise on this record for my taste. Too much Jefferson Airplane and Doors vibes for me. I mean, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right? It’s not a complete loss, but once Froese found his footing there was no stopping him.
But for all my bellyaching, I’m glad I snagged this one. I love seeing where prolific musical geniuses start. It only took Tangerine Dream two years to get from Electronic Meditation to Zeit, and then two more years to get to Phaedra.
That’s one hell of an evolution of the mind and spirit.
From 1970 to 2000, Tangerine Dream put a record out a year, with some years having two records a year(usually a film soundtrack followed by a studio record.) Honestly, there’s nearly one TD album released every year up to this year if you count live albums and reissued older stuff. It’s pretty fucking impressive, man. I think you can forgive “Journey Through A Burning Brain” and “Resurrection” with that kind of track record.
Let the brains burn, man.