John Lennon probably once said that the geeks shall inherit the earth; whenever he might have been thinking about outfits like Neutral Zone, principally the work of Swiss-based cycling obsessive David Langhard.
But hey, it seems the laugh’s on us, as a peculiar mix of influences – Kraftwerk, The Pixies, 2-Tone, DA’d rock n’ roll – prove that putting cards in between your spokes definitely still means you’re cool.
Listeners don’t have to have studied too hard at school to conclude that HOGOFOGO is something of a curate’s egg, but it’s got a sideways charm that comes from the obsessiveness of a lovable boffin, and like Magnus Pyke way back in Tommy Dolby’s video, beyond the slightly awkward back story this is clearly the work of a producer in possession of more good ideas that he knows what to do with.
Like that other fiendish weapon of twisted genius, the Rubik’s cube, Langhard approaches things from a number of vectors; facets of his obvious love for retro-kitsch that have admittedly, to a note, been flipped before, but rarely it has to be said with this kind of wonky panache.
The Dusseldorf-fanboy streak is writ large, from the uppity opener Toujours La Meme and its proto-synthpop burr and Space Travel’s blatant pillaging of Autobahn, a love capped off on Cycling Champion’s vocoder enhanced paean to the fittingly obscure Italian chain ganger Pierino Gavazzi.
Not, of course, that the ‘Werk were the only game in town in the analogue era of the early eighties – there’s a good argument in fact that they stagnated badly after The Man Machine – and HOGOFGO isn’t a tribute album pasted together from their legacy. At times, wisely, it feels much more personal, less robotnik, such as on the almost-jam Other Times, featuring morse code and discombobulated samples, fumbling like a slightly less Proffessorist Public Service Broadcasting.
It’s a short journey from interesting to pointless, so Langhard chooses not to vex his audience too much when it comes to balancing his need for whimsy and holding their attention beyond framed indulgence. Industrie’s pretty ambiance for example is as contemporary and direct as anything by Kieran Hebden, while Wave Machine is more concerned with the sine rather than wet versions, low intensity techno for discerning clubbers whilst Lion is an ancient kaftan-ready pyschedelic kids TV theme.
All bets are off though when it comes to the closer; The Bigger The Pile is a song, with a verse-chorus-verse thing going on which in the vernacular is determinedly FM-ready, gorging on an openly Mike & The Mechanics vibe and in its complete and unexplained disconnection from the rest of its counterparts, oddly affecting.
There is something admirable in the maverick, the artist for whom convention is to be scoffed at, not so much to drive a recognisable wedge into a crowded market for their work, but because its something they don’t have the time to understand. David Langhard clearly makes his own rules, but HOGOFOGO isn’t half as clever as you might think it is, a set of ideas in flight that seek interpretation but has no real desire to be understood.
Like a yellow jersey it will only be important to those who know, but for them, it will be cherished.
