[engl] The avant-garde Kraut ensemble Supersempfft laid the foundation for their techno-tropical pop music in 1979 with their debut album "Roboterwerke." In 1981, they followed up with the album "Metaluna," which is now being honored through a re-release on Bureau B. The group, consisting of Dieter Kolb, Franz Knüttel, and Franz Aumüller, fused global in?uences, experimental sonic landscapes, and surreal lyrics into a unique sonic cosmos. "Metaluna" stands out with its meandering sequences, unconventional rhythms, and psychedelic songwriting that remains groundbreaking even decades later. We live in the data rich days of the Internet age, when globalisation and mass communication have trivialised time and space, and fusion as follows, is now commonplace. While the entire world’s art and in?uences stream through your digital consciousness, any odd assemblage of creative diaspora makes just as much sense as the next – another eddy in the grand churn of genre-?uidity. As such, this Bureau B reissue of Supersempfft’s superb ‘Metaluna’ is particularly pertinent for a couple of key reasons. Firstly, that this collaborative AV ensemble laid down the template for techno-tropical pop way back in ‘81, an astonishing achievement which broke ground musically, culturally and technologically; and secondly, that the rest of us have ?nally found them in the future, and can at last move in time to their animated groove. Supersempfft is at once a star-sailing frog enjoying cartoon chaos around a cosmic Caribbean, and also the multi-disciplinary miscellany of a trio of school friends who never lost that youthful penchant for play. The postmodern project comprised of musical genius, Dieter Kolb, computer whiz Franz Knüttel and the boundlessly creative Franz Aumüller, whose vibrant visuals and surreal lyrics situated their sound in a universe all of its own. Operating out of the basement of Dieter’s parents’ instrument shop, the band began to explore their interests and share their talents with no consideration of a commercial goal. Rejecting rock from the off, Kolb dove into his love of global styles, surfacing only to borrow display models from upstairs which were swiftly modi?ed by Knüttel to reveal bold electronic possibilities beyond their intended use. Recognising his own shortcomings behind the kit, Knüttel built his own drum machine, Roboterwerke, which piqued the interest of Kraftwerk, Herbie Hancock and Tangerine Dream, and piece-by-piece their kaleidoscopic pop began to coalesce. The industry soon took notice, and a debut album emerged on CBS in ’79, though didn’t score the sales it deserved. After the ?rst album, Kolb and Aumüller’s love of reggae and dub took them on a transatlantic trip to Trinidad and Tobago under the false assumption that all the islands stepped to the Jamaican style. Any momentary disappointment was soon dispelled by the liveliness and optimism of calypso and soca, and a life af?rming experience at carnival left them awestruck and inspired. Back home, they began work on ‘Metaluna’, a wild combination of roving sequences, tropical rhythms, squashed brass and yearning vocals which sprints, skanks and soars through ten triumphant tracks. Amid the metallic beats and interplanetary idents lurk sublime melodies and soulful motifs, psychedelic songwriting reminiscent of Barrett, Beefheart or Brian Wilson at their best. In their dubbier moments, Supersempfft sound like Lee Perry jamming on an alien console, with wild panning and delirious FX suggesting a sound clash on a distant planet. Meanwhile the arcade exuberance, vocoder gospel and space age ballads predate the sweltering synth-pop of The Knife, Hot Chip and Ariel Pink by a full two decades, setting a bar that their successors still fail to meet. Even if you expect the unexpected, there’s still room for one looney tune to take you by surprise as the jazzy “Farewell Goodbye” sinks the Cole Porter songbook in the nearest wormhole. Innovative, experimental yet still heavy on the hooks, ‘Metaluna’ is both a jubilant expression of its creators’ tastes and a masterclass in mercurial pop - a success of self-expression which proves once again that the best bands play for themselves.