Les Trucs – The Musical

In the basement units of the company Joseph Kruemli & daughters stood this giant modular system, joined by some drum machines, samplers and CV sequencers. No one really knew, where these electronic gizmos hailed from, though Margarethe vaguely recalled having ripped them off of some bankrupt music-producer in a poker game, who had been responsible for a few space disco-hits in the late 70s, some time ago when she was drunk.

Her compulsive gambling was distressing to her and she had never told anyone from the family about it, hence she had hidden the acquired equipment in the sternmost corner of the basement.

Margarethe’s father, Josef Kruemli was a luminary in the field of decorative-functional electroplating. A visionary man
who’s idea it had always been to utilize galvanic techniques in order to optimize human performance and capabilities. Yet one obstacle had always limited him in fulfilling his proposition so far: It seemed impossible to find test subjects, willing to dive into a bath of blue vitriol for several minutes to voluntary cover themselves in an alloy of metal. Even if it seems irretraceable today – at the time the necessity of a transition to a flexible self was not yet well established amongst the general public. One day, when Kruemli and his mate Stockhausen were once again traveling abroad to lecture about “The supra-human being of tomorrow and its manifestation in the sphere of contemporary art and design”, an incident occurred that would change everything: In search for a hide-out to listen to some music from their telephones, two children from the neighborhood snuck into the cellars of Kruemli & daughters, accidentally falling into one of the barrel of electro dissolution. Kruemli’s joy was great, when he first discovered this very living proof for the feasibility of his brilliant work.

Then again, Kruemli soon turned very saddened because if this incident was to go public, he was aware of having to face a severe punishment due to the safety deficiencies in his plant. As his fear of possible years of imprisonment doubtlessly preponderated, Kruemli quickly decided to conceal the truth. He locked down his cellars forever – enclosing the kids within. Imprisoned and left to their own devices, it wasn’t for long that the two began to look about, discovering more and more of the great treasures hidden in their remand home. Besides caressing porcelain cats from dusty shelves, reading books broaching the issues of production methods during fordism and learning to sew and to sing two-voiced canons, the kids soon started recording their ado of chanting to rhythm machines and their new found ferventness – the vast modular system. It was somewhat 20 years later, when an insolvency administrator unsealed the long-forgotten basement — barely believing his: there were the two individuals, plated in silverand chrome, yet blithefully dancing and singing in a corner of the antiquarian facilities. The administrator (who was a a man of deed) promptly decided to take the children under his wings, getting them a record contract with an indie-label and releasing a selection of their works — on this sound carrier at your very hands.

A chanted and performed story on the basis of subtractive synthesis. A musical about the relation between people and
things. A peculiar spree.