I can remember a time, about 3 years ago since our latest summer seasons, when I traveled to Germany with my classmates as part of a field trip. Way back in yesteryear I was beginning to fall head over heels for that crazy kosmische Musik as envisioned by the inimitable Mad Kaiser (Rolf Ulrich). I share Mr. Julian Cope’s opinion that this man was a true genius who was able to take the music into the upper stratosphere of the cosmos, beam it straight into your consciousness on a different wavelength – a trippier wavelength if you will. Shit, man, nobody has still ever come close to touching him in the grand cosmic scheme of things. During my field trip to Germany we eventually traveled to an upscale Hamburg “suburb” of sorts called Blankenese. It was the spot where all of the hot to trot, wealthy Germans lived. Driving down the ginormous Strasse my friend’s father (also an ardent fan and collector of classic Krautrock) informed me that Rolf Ulrich Kaiser lived in the modest, traditional style home on our immediate left. The house was rather normal, strikingly mundane to be honest. Think of a plain old German home. Do you have an image cemented in your mind? I guarantee you that your vision coincides with the actual house. It’s that typical.
Back in the day when I first discovered Galactic Supermarket, Schwingungen, Lord Krishna Von Goloka I used to always scratch my head and think, “Who was buying this stuff back in the day? What did they think of it?” I’d think to myself, “This Rolf Kaiser guy, what’s he like in real life?” I’m sure most of the kosmische fans out there have thought the same at one point or another. Well, here on my immediate left was an answer of sorts. From the outside it seemed as though Rolf was an ordinary German dude, just like my friends’ fathers. It’s this kind of myth shattering that makes reality all the harsher as well as more plausible. It’s easy to forget that this stuff was made by normal human beings (perhaps a tad more lysergicaly enhanced). It could have easily been you or I behind the mixing board during all of those legendary sessions. On another note, I don’t know if Rolf was still with Gille, aka Das Sternenmaedchen.
Kaiser’s Pilz label encompassed so many mind-blowing, life changing groups: Ash Ra Tempel, Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh. There was the freak-out exploratory space rock and there was also the idyllic, pastoral and very Deutsch Volksmusik with that trademark cosmic sound; Volksmusik for a better and attainable future. Kaiser godfathered such classic (and like so much other great music, forgotten) albums: Traum by Hölderlin (the rest of their output is hideous, be warned), Der Jesuspilz by super duo Withüser Und Westrupp and this one here, Bröselmaschine’s self titled debut.
Guess who engineered the whole affair? That old tomcat Dieter Dierks. Dieter really got around back in day. His resume is about 4 miles long, full of essentials, a figurehead of the kraut sound. Dierks’s efforts are pivotal to Bröselmaschine, his placement of sound creating these wonderful countryside images, a tiny group of German troubadours dancing in the fields behind the village, going on in their pagan rites of passage. These songs often transport me to Summerisle, the fun-filled island from The Wicker Man. I’d bet ten to one that the island’s denizens would happily copulate to the songs on here; enjoy a thick heady brew to the strains of “Gedanken”.
Keep in mind that I have a very biased predilection for all of these German groups. I hate to admit it, but there’s nothing all that special about this LP. Musically speaking it’s a spin off on the Incredible String Band. That’s hardly a bad thing; just means that no new boundaries were broken, etc. Bröselmaschine’s intentions are what matters here: this is such a pure cosmic folk product it’s hard not to fall a little bit in love, or at least be charmed. They do make nice use of varied instruments: congas, flute (a very pretty flute at that) and stoned hippy pick de rigueur the almighty sitar. I just wish they opted for their own German for lyrics as opposed to the forced English. But as I previously stated, the broken English adds a distinct charm. I can respect them trying to make the music more appealing to English speaking listeners, but really guys, it’s not necessary. Be yourselves! The only German lyrics are on the fifth and best track, Schmetterling (Butterfly), a mighty drug story about a man turning into butterfly (or something to that effect) complete with the tablas, medieval flute solos and (drum roll, please) the sitar(!). It reminds me of later Popol Vuh, circa Coeur De Verre. Other album highlights include the very beautiful and mysterious “Gedanken” and “Nossa Bova”, the latter of which meanders for a bit. It’s still a nice meandering, not an aggravating shat out Genesis wheelie dealy. The traditional English ballad “Lassie” suffers from the language barrier; the English sounds so very forced it’s almost Brechtian. “Old Man’s Song” reminds me slightly of Amon Düül II. The track’s of no great consequence. It has this typical wa wa guitar that’s completely out of place. Still, the intentions were good.
The term “brösel” was thrown around quite a bit back in those kosmische Tage. It literally means “breadcrumb”, but it’s also slang a magic mushroom. So as you might be able to guess “Bröselmaschine” means shroom machine. I think that’s puh’retty frikkin’ awesome. Like all of the other great German LPs of the early 70’s this one was has a killer sleeve – the wizard of Oz on acid with guitar roads and vibrant butterflies. Man oh man, do you have any idea how much I would love to take a trip to such a local with Bröselmaschine blasting on my headphones? Then and only then would I truly feel at peace.

Reviews Index