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Today we talk about Krautfolk duo Bernd Witthüser and Walter Westrupp.  These two budding musicians met on the Essen basement hipster folk scene, became fast friends, fell out (yeah: a girl), and reconnected after the Essener Songtage in 1968.

After a first splash with their, um, Flipper the Dolphin single, W and W stole the show at Fehmarn.  (Some might say Hendrix never recovered.)  Tabs and joints and Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser soon entered the mix, and sessions with Dieter Dierks turned out Trips und Traüme in 1971.

We're saying these two *INVENTED* cosmic folk.  And we're holding the microphones.

These two Cosmic Couriers had gobs of talent, a wicked sense of humor, and a good deal to say.  Come sift through the zithers and trombones with us, as we dig in on Witthüser and Westrupp!

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Today we get our Swiss on, as we look in on the Cosmic Couriers' collaborations with Bernese scholar/ mystic Sergius Golowin and Yenish artist Walter Wegmüller.

First we depart this grim terrestrial plane and ascend to the mountain paradise of Goloka, where the vibe is chill and Lord Krishna reigns supreme.  Now Wegmüller takes charge of our party and walks us through the Tarot's Major Arcana.

With us on this journey are Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser and the Star-Maiden, Göttsching and Schulze, Witthüser and Westrupp, Dollase and Grosskopf.  Berkers, Mierke, Enke, Dierks, and would you believe Timothy Leary (?) round out the group.

How could this not rock?

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Eau de Cologne.

Floh de Cologne.

Oh, that Floh de Cologne!

Blending old-time cabaret tradition and '60s radical left-wing politics, the Flohs brought biting wit and considerable musical range to bierkellers and Uni stages all across West Germany.  And it wasn't long before they laid a concept album/ beat-show down to tape.  That record, Ohr Records’ first release (!), was Fliessbandbabys Beat-Show.

Rock along with your two favorite middle-aged Gen X Conveyor Belt Babies, as we explore the life and work of Floh de Cologne!

NOTE: We urge listeners to look in on these transcriptions and translations of (some of) the Fliessbandbaby song lyrics.  Having them handy certainly made this astonishingly good record more accessible to us, and we expect they'll enhance your listen of this episode, too.  

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We were overdue to check in on Krautrock's unwitting supergroup, the Cosmic Jokers.  But we weren't gonna do it without first going *deep* on Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser and Gille Lettmann.  

At various times visionary, provocateur, entrepreneur, programmer, pamphleteer, carnival barker, and snake oil salesman, Kaiser was an essential figure in the Krautrock project.  His life-partner-in-crime, Gille, brought a Star-Maiden's magic dust--and some wicked vocals--to the many delicious records Kaiser's Ohr, Pilz, and Cosmic Couriers labels issued in the early 1970s.

The Jokers releases were peak Kaiser-Lettmann material, recorded over a series of acid parties in Dieter Dierks' studios and released (so the story goes) without most of the players' knowledge or consent.  We *love* these records and are grateful for the deception ... even if the resulting lawsuits ended Rolf and Gille's careers in the biz.

Come along as we survey the trippiest corners of the cosmos, with Krautrock's Power Couple as our guides.  This was a fun one!  

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Took a minute but we're back with a vengeance and a heaping helping of Synthy Berliner Klaus Schulze!  

We gushed about Klaus's drumming in our Tangerine Dream and Ash Ra Tempel episodes.  Funny thing, though: Klaus's FIFTY-PLUS-YEAR career as a solo artist was a largely drums-free endeavor.  Starting with 1972's Irrlicht, which he hacked together with a wonky amp, broken organ, some delay effects and a taped orchestral rehearsal, Klaus Schulze set aside conventional rock forms and committed himself to revolutionizing popular music.

By the time he recorded Moondawn in '76, Klaus had gathered an impressive rack of electronics—most recently and notably Florian Fricke's prized Moog III synthesizer.  With "the Big Moog" in tow, Klaus delivered ... 50? 80? 100?  let's just call it a TRUCKLOAD of electronic LPs.  Along the way, he assumed the title of Godfather of Techno.  This was certainly well-earned.

Join us as we rock out and/or ask hard questions about Schulze and his groundbreaking records Irrlicht and Moondawn!

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Today we accept a listener's invite up to Hamburg, for a visit with A.R. + Machines.

Achim Reichel grew up near the docks, listening to sea shanties.  He found work at the Star-Club waiting tables, but soon enough he was on its stage playing with the Rattles—and running with Lennon & McCartney.

Come 1971 he ditched his bandmates for a tape machine.  Krautrock followed.  Turns out Achim was just passing through on his way to other sounds and traditions.  But this green leg of his musical journey was rich and rewarding, even if it took 20 years for critics and listeners to get it.

Join us as we tell the story of A.R. + Machines!

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In today's episode, Carla and Brad tip their caps to the ten or more young Bavarians who stood up to Mom and Dad, demanded money for a swank downtown apartment, and most assuredly drove their neighbors nuts with the ensuing band rehearsals. 

Well, maybe we tip our caps more to the parents who funded this grand and glorious adventure.

Musical Münchner communards choose attitude over aptitude.  Drum circles and pudding plots abound.  Push the levels all the way up into the red, while we celebrate Amon Düül and their first record, Psychedelic Underground!

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It's a tale as old as time.  Boy meets Moog III synthesizer.  Boy drops a wad of cash to buy it.  Boy and Moog blissfully record two studio albums and a film soundtrack together.  Boy abruptly breaks up with Moog and finds religion.

Boy is, of course, gifted and accomplished pianist Florian Fricke.  His project, and at times even his alter ego, is Popol Vuh.  In this episode we do some Before and After sampling: i.e., we talk through the records on either side of the Moog separation. 

**SPOILER ALERT**: we like one of these records a lot more than the other.

Fricke died far too early, but his was a life *very* well lived.  Dig in deep with Popol Vuh in this latest, oversized episode of Carla and Brad Talk About Krautrock!  

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Schoolyard friends Manuel Göttsching and Hartmut Enke loved the Beatles and the blues ... like everybody else in a Berlin rock band in the late '60s.  But then they got hold of Blue Cheer's record and some blow-the-doors-off British amps.   Soon wunderkind drummer Klaus Schulze was at their door, sniffing around the new equipment.  Things were gonna get LOUD.  

Ash Ra Tempel's soundquakes and soundscapes show off a dynamic range that is unmatched in Krautrock.  Come join us as we talk about the band, with special attention given to their first two records.

Enter a world of anvils and dream machines, of universal vibrations and floral mortality.  Enter ... the Tempel.

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No figure loomed larger over Krautrock, as a genre, than legendary producer/ sound engineer Konrad "Conny" Plank ... and we've been looking for an opportunity to talk about him.  Then we discovered the Rastakraut Pasta LP that he and Dieter Moebius recorded and released in 1980.  Problem solved!

From behind the board in Cologne's Rhenus Studio and then his own converted farmhouse in Wolperath, Plank put on tape some (most?) of the best German kosmische and electronic music of the '70s.  From there he went on to develop the sound signatures of post-punk acts like Devo, Eurythmics, and Ultravox.

Gone too soon at age 47, Plank is (and damn well should be) remembered as Krautrock's Midwife.  Join us as we explore his life and career and then go track by track through Rastakraut Pasta on Episode 16 of CBK!