Neu! The First Album
The first album (a white cover with the word "Neu!" printed across it in bright orange lettering) immediately sets the scene with opening track "Hallo Gallo." Ten minutes long, it is comprised of a driving beat, a single-note pattern on bass, and a single chord funk guitar riff in the background, with long, clear, lingering, single tones drifting idly over top, and an occasional, brief burst of melody that quickly disappears back into the relentless beat. Thus we are presented with the essence of the Neu! sound straight from the start. The second track is entirely abstract, and a bit less representative, though it provides an interesting intermission between the other two tracks that would have comprised side one of the LP. Rolling percussion, peals of thunder, and eerie wails drift about between the speakers; not the most remarkable piece, but demonstrating a clear grasp of texture and space, and good use of more academic musique concrete techniques. This rolls straight into a slower, more brooding piece, with a slower pulse than the opening track, with a more contemplative feel, but in the same instrumental, minimalist style.
What would have been side two of the LP starts off with the sound of water, of waves against a dock, or maybe a paddle moving through water, merging into a serene ambient piece, all long guitar drones sliding one against the other. If this description immediately turns you off, try giving it a chance; it manages to achieve a certain purity and calm beauty without slipping into cheesy new-age warblings. It also stands up well as a prelude to the rather more ominous "Negativland" (from which I can only assume the art-noise band got its name). Kicking off with what sounds like pneumatic drills being broadcast from space, followed by tumultuous applause, the inevitable steady pulsing beat kicks in with scraping guitar noise over top (and the influence on bands like Sonic Youth becomes more apparent). Over 10 minutes, the beat speeds up, the beat slows back down, speeds back up again; the listener remains fixated (possibly despite themselves). The closing track is absurd, ridiculous, and beautiful; slow, almost to the point of stasis, a gentle guitar pattern is the only accompaniment to the album's only vocals, a completely indecipherable, falsetto, kiddy-voice ramble, sounding like your three-year-old nephew trying to sing you an improvised nursery rhyme while falling asleep, or like Thom Yorke on valium undergoing regression therapy. The same water effects that opened the side return for two minutes; and the album ends. Curious, enigmatic, and perplexing; also fascinating, fixating, and leaving the listener looking for more.
Neu! Astralwerks/Gronland, 1972.
Review by James Andean, BadMonkeyX. 3rd issue, July 2001.