V.A. Silberland

Fellow humans, Bureau B invite you on an expedition to Silberland, a singular span of spacetime created by Germany’s sonic futurists of the seventies and eighties. Embracing the early electronics and tape experiments of the sixties’ avant-garde, these artists aimed to boldly go, eschewing small steps for giant leaps into a nebulous and novel sound. 

Their music depicted the dynamism, energy and movement of the era - celebrating modern technology as both the medium and the message. Brimming with fractal sequences and shimmering textures, gaze fixed firmly beyond the limits of possible, there were aesthetic echoes of the visual arts of the early twentieth century. But where the Italian futurists’ rejection of the past paved the way for fascism, the kosmische generation emerged from the revolutionary student movement of ’67 and ’68, opposing any lingering political ties to Nazism and occupying the cultural vacuum which endured long after the post-war era. 

Encompassing both better known and more obscure artists, this collection is a trip into the psychedelic and cerebral strain of this amorphous genre, pairing the pulsating and propulsive with moments of cosmic calm.

Opener “Strahlsund” by Die Partei serves as the national anthem for this no-place, its utopian melodies and stately rhythm evoking an optimism which is swiftly skewed by the chrome tones and snapping percussion of Ralf Trostel’s “Two Face”. The delirious drive of Michael Bundt’s “Full Steam Ahead” embraces the uncanny as jarring bursts of laughter drown out a serpentine topline before the fever breaks into the cold sweat of Moebius’ “Etwas”, a sweet synth sonata decorated with detuned keys. “Scharfer Schnitt (No1)” is the first suggestion of Silberland’s full scope, the Populäre Mechanik A-side fusing post-punk and dubby funk and perfectly paving the way for the ritualistic stomp of Roedelius’ trance-dancing “Regenmacher”. Splitting the difference between Berlin and Düsseldorf schools, Tyndall give us the typically glittering "Großstadtgefühl”, which smoothly segues into the synth scree of Conrad Schnitzler’s beatless and balletic “Bis Die Blaue Blume Blüht”. The zero gravity drift continues with a contribution from Cologne’s Phantom Band, who achieve an effortless groove without the faintest hint of a bassline, while Bernd Kistenmacher takes us to the midpoint with the deep space repetition and Teutonic tessellations of “Quitting Time”.

The return journey begins with the beauty and sadness of Heiko Maile’s “Nachtspaziergang” then sidesteps into a punkish pair from Moebius & Plank and Faust, the former fusing tape snippets, desk fx and grunting electronics into a narcotic stagger, while the latter employ breakbeat and distortion on a churning outtake from their Wümme period. If this bristling brace toyed with the terrestrial, Riechmann takes an aerial view of Earth via “Weltweit” and Asmus Tietchens strays way too close to the sun with a playful take on Venusian exotica. Things take a turn for the psychedelic via the Arabesque piano of Cluster’s transformative “Avanti” and Günter Schickert’s strung out and smouldering “Wanderer”, before the roving sequences of You’s “Live Line” fire up the hyperdrive for a foray into warp speed. Cutting the thrusters almost entirely, the synthesist himself Harald Grosskopf takes the controls for re-entry, gliding through the upper atmosphere on the heartfelt waveforms of “Emphasis”, cushioning the craft into Eno, Moebius and Roedelius’ hypnagogic “Base & Apex”.

Welcome to Silberland - where the streets are paved with strobes. Home to neon lights, straight lines and open roads, this futurist fantasy was first founded in the mid-seventies, when Germany’s creative class chose musical therapy in order to indulge their shared hallucination of a new Europe. Fuelled by the catalytic fusion of globalisation and new technology, the world was turning ever faster and the kosmische generation were ready to keep the pace. With synthesisers, rhythm computers and human metronomes turned to a gallop, these electronic innovators set modernity to a motorik beat, and Bureau B’s second trip into Silberland cuts right to the thrust of the genre.

The set begins with the propulsive opener from Harald Grosskopf’s 1986 LP Oceanheart, in which pristine sequences play in counterpoint atop a mechanical kick, hurtling forward until the rest of the kit catches up. Live drums take centre stage for Cluster’s feverish “Prothese” and the time travelling “Elektroklang” by Conrad Schnitzler, which foreshadows industrial and techno innovations while maintaining a primal punch. You offer astral ascension on “Son Of A True Star”, weaving proggy square waves and pulsating arps around an irresistible shuffle from mysterious percussionist Lhan Gopal (Grosskopf in disguise), before the optimistic “Für Dich” fuses classic kosmische chords with Thomas Dinger’s pummelling beat. Asmus Tietchens’ detuned keys and drum machine samba are imbued with a punk spirit shared by Moebius Plank Neumeier’s discordant jazz-tanz jam “Search Zero”. “Beat For Ikutaro”, plucked from a mid 80s demo tape by Camouflage keyboardist Heiko Maile, swerves into icy electroid territories where moonlit melodies ride robotic riffs and a whirring low end. The cassette energy continues with the mechanised boogie of Lapre’s “Flokati”, a funkier take on the style in wonderful contrast with Adelbert Von Deyen’s breakneck, straight shooting “Time Machine”, a massively motorik night drive down the A7 which finally runs out of gas at the compilation’s midpoint.

Günter Schickert takes us inside the fuel pump on the weird and watery “Puls”, while the charmingly disruptive Faust complete the pitstop via the blasted blues of “Juggernaut”, a fuzzbox stampede which builds from ratchet whirrs to a V8 purr in no time at all. Moebius & Plank return sans Neumeier for the deep and dubby “Feedback 66”, all murmured vocals and surging pedals powered by a seismic bassline from Holger Czukay, whose collaborations recur throughout the duo’s 1980 classic Rastakraut Pasta. Wheels spun and rubber burned, we move up through the gears via the airy tones of Roedelius to arrive at the high tension electronics of Serge Blenner’s “Phonique”, an anxious amalgam of insistent percussion and agitated sequences from the French import’s 1981 release. Moebius & Beerbohm’s “Subito” follows in a flurry of tribal drumming, guttural distortion and corrosive drone, a synthesised translation of punk spirit which mellows into the soft focus serenade of Tyndall’s “Wolkenlos”, a thrilling contradiction of pastoral motifs and breathless tempo. Pyrolator’s 1981 creation “180°” maintains the lightening pace, lurching forward in bursts of chaotic drum programming and sampler abuse, sending us spinning out into the strange beauty of Die Partei’s “Guten Morgen In Köln”. Enmeshing fragments of musique concrète and yearning guitar with throbbing sequences and a rigid rhythm grid, the duo signpost a melodic destination finally delivered by Streetmark keyboardist Dorothea Raukes under her Deutsche Wertabeit alias. A fitting finale, “Auf Engelsflügeln” radiates human warmth and cosmic wonder, serving electronic emotion from start to finish.

On their last trip to Silberland, Bureau B hurtled along the chrome highways and glass skyways of the kosmische landscape, powered ever onwards in perpetual motorik motion. This time, however, the Hamburg imprint opt for an unhurried itinerary, coasting far beyond the familiar rhythmic terrain to explore crystal caverns and emerald pastures, immersing listeners in the ambient side of this alternative Allemagne. Building on the tape loops, tone poems, and minimalist compositions of the 60's avant-garde, these musicians utilised the sweeping scope of the synthesiser to create expansive meditations on outer-planetary escapism, human connection, and the natural world. This compilation offers a survey of this singular era, blending pioneering voices with lesser-known artists for an immersive sonic experience.

Taken from Cluster & Eno's self-titled 1977 album, "Ho Renomo" opens the set with a profound minimalism. The track’s swaying bassline and textural guitar carry listeners through a tranquil and meditative space, capturing a spirit of collaboration and simplicity that became a hallmark of the era. Roedelius’ “Veilchenwurzeln” follows, evoking pastoral scenes in a multi-layered and undulating composition, where synths flow gently, conjuring images of open fields and embodying an organic warmth.  Der Plan’s “Die Wüste” delves into darker territories, translating the visual world of Rainer Kirberg's cult film into a stark soundscape, while Rolf Trostel’s “Hope Is The Answer” sees a steady sequence rise and fall beneath the filter, mutating a recurring refrain from his 'Two Faces' LP into a melancholic torch song from the stars. The koto-like plucks and piercing drones of Vono's “Hitze” create a mysterious and hypnotic experience which draws on both ancient and futuristic tones before giving way to "E-Night", a recording from the sessions of You's 1980 LP 'Electric Days', which only emerged via later expanded-editions. Reverb-laden synths and delicate pulses evoke vast open spaces in this arpeggiated journey through the stars. As the album progresses, Serge Blenner’s “Phrase IV” beguiles with minimalist yet celestial synth lines, while Moebius’ “Falsche Ruhe” offers a quiet, haunting meditation on solitude. From there, Harald Grosskopf’s “Oceanheart,” envelops listeners in aquatic ambient textures that suggest serene, moonlit waters - a perfect surface to reflect the starry sky portrayed by Lapre’s acoustic guitar and wistful synths.

The glimmering, crystalline, landscape of Riechmann’s “Abendlicht” finds a heartbeat amongst the tranquility, leading seamlessly into the unhurried progression of shimmering chords and chiming synths which make up Adalbert von Deyen's "Per Aspera Ad Astra". Unreleased until Bureau B's recent retrospective set, Faust’s “Lampe An, Tür Zu, Leute Rein!” channels a darker, introspective, energy, marked by drones and field recordings while Conrad Schnitzler’s “Electric Garden” creates an electronic biosphere buzzing with synthetic life. Moebius & Plank’s “Nordöstliches Gefühl” pairs calm percussion and rhythm guitar with pastoral, swirling electronics, resulting in a lush, stately piece that captures the spirit of a vast, open landscape.

Blurring fast-paced sequences into a shimmering haze, Deutsche Wertabeit delivers hypnotic minimalism reminiscent of Philip Glass at his mesmeric best, before Asmus Tietchens’ “Räuschlinge” pulls the listener into an eerie atmosphere of deep disquiet. Pyrolator’s “Minimal Tape 1/8” offers an immersive wall of sound, a dense electronic tapestry that feels tactile and sculptural. The wintry “Southland” by Rüdiger Lorenz evokes the isolation of frozen landscapes, a fitting prologue for “Alleewalzer” by Thomas Dinger, an icy yet delicate waltz, which rounds out this collection with a haunting, fragile beauty.

This collection is a testament to the evocative power of early electronic music. Each track serves as a portal, guiding us into a realm where sound becomes landscape, emotion, and narrative. This compilation invites you to explore the quiet revolutions, serene spaces, and deep introspection at the heart of German electronic music's formative years.