Morgen Schon Fort, the debut release for German band KLAR, is instantly familiar. Not in an obvious, this song sounds like that other song…but in the way when I meet someone new and I feel like I’ve met them before but I can’t place them. As if that person was present during certain pivotal moments in my life—the time our car lost its brakes going through a mountain pass while Siouxsie and the Banshees played Spellbound on the shitty tape deck. Or the late nights when doing drugs was still fun—our teeth grinding from excessive MDMA intake while a scratched copy of the 1982 Moev “Rotting Geraniums” EP (the original line up with the amazing Madelaine Morris) repeated on a cheap turntable. Or the shared experience of awe felt in seeing Salem on their first tour in a small hotel club.
KLAR originated as a musical project from three students at Leuphana University who had never met or written music together before. In their press bio the members remain anonymous named only as “the sound designer”, “the beat builder”, and “the singer and lyricist”. The beauty of this is that it removes the individual egos leaving solely KLAR as the primary focus. It’s a stunning musical experiment that resonates with the spontaneity and power of blind collaboration. In English “Morgen Schon Fort” translates to “Gone Tomorrow” and seems to speak to the fleeting nature of time and experience. Its musical subtleties float in a timeless space while the vocals command a sense of urgency that anchor it in the present.
For me this song feels like a missing link in a subconscious emotional tract that spans decades. It triggers elastic memories that bend their back into the immediate until I can smell burning brake fluid—feel the strobing electricity of illegal chemicals—re-experience the raw force of live discordant beats. I really hope KLAR write more songs.