DIE GESTALTEN レコード& CD

Review: Four killer electro anthems from Die Gestalten, the multiplicitous moniker behind whomever it is that also operates the long-serving German label of the same name. Panther Schallplatten promise no repress, and yet also no "games, faces or bling bling", offering a tempting tradeoff between limitation and candour. 'Unsere Waffen' and 'Kaltland' establish versatility enough on the A-side alone, the former track serving an acid aperitif backed up by joggling chord cuts and blooming arps, the latter following on via a nouvelle cuisine "heater" on ice; twinkly cubes inside a sonic seafood chiller, and steamup windowpane breaths in the surround mix. The B-side is a comparative voider , 'Das Universum' working in huge hooverish synths and the surprise 'Vorort' erring nervous breakdance tool.

Review: One of two Die Gestalten releases to make itself manifest in 2024, the elusive German electro moniker once again take(s) a heavy UR inspiration to a looser and more contemporaneous end, laying down four killer electro tools for the more tenacious tune selector. With this record described by the label as "made by a completely unknown source out of nowhere", to use the word "elusive" to describe this act would be an overstatement; check their back catalogue for an audio-induction, as it's technically all you'll need. The visage-obscurant 'Erinnerungen' and follower 'Du Bist' sound like clanging Martian mashups, nailing a certain mood of cartoon suspense, one often heard in the Platonic sci-fi soundtrack immediately after a plot-essential crash landing. 'Der Wanderer' closes on a much dourer note of animalistic acid, signifying much less than the A besides a comparatively carnal all-consumption.

Review: Germany's Die Gestalten amounts to far greater than the sum of his influences, a fact which once again proven by his latest record 'Ruhe In Frieden' ('Rest In Peace'), a sweet and mournful electro tune the likes of which we have never heard before. An unsettling tune, its live rendition here takes the unusual step of bringing wake-bound tiny violins to a skittery electro jaunt, amounting to the kind of vinyl-pressed funereal object we only imaged we'd need in a distant future, as opposed to now (when funeral services are still occupied by overtly human forces - no matter - that'll all change come the ensuing cyborg revolution). Who knew that a disc on a turntable could express this much grief? Sure, they've slipped into the other room; no-one dared guess said room wasn't a dancefloor...