When bands take an inordinate amount of time between records — like anything over two years, since apparently we all have really short attention spans — one of two things usually happens: either the anticipation becomes so overwhelming that the album can only fail to live up to its hype (Axl, take note) or the band stealthily slip off the radar so that the new release arrives like an undiscovered treasure. The Notwist’s first offering in six years, The Devil, You + Me, is a delightful addition to the latter category.

It’s not as though these genre-defying Germans have been wasting their time watching soccer — though when I spoke with singer/guitarist Markus Archer back in early summer he was wrapped up in a Euro 2008 match.

The timely gap, according to Archer, “was mainly because we were really into making music with other bands. And it was always recording and then going on tour and then very soon there’s like one year over, and then two years over…”

Aside from touring to support their critically adored 2002 release Neon Golden, the core members of The Notwist (Archer, his brother Michael and programmer Martin Gretshmann) formed a side project called 13 & God, joining up with Anticon avant-hip-hop weirdos Doseone, Jel and Dax Pierson (who record together as Themselves). Gretshmann continued making electronic music under the name Console, which he had been doing since 1996 to significant acclaim, while the Archer brothers also tended to soundtracks and other projects.

“We started thinking about new Notwist recordings while we were working on a soundtrack,” says Archer. “Then we had this offer to work with the people from Themselves in a way that was a really good chance to work together with other people — to think in another direction and maybe get new ideas, new things that we could try out.”

The Devil, You+Me is both sparser and more lush than its predecessor, blending electronic rhythms into the folk-inspired acoustic tracks with an air of timelessness, like on the gorgeous “Gloomy Planets.” Every song feels like a mini-epic, building up from Markus’ tender phrasing and producer Olaf Opal’s restrained embellishments into expansive full-scale orchestrations. And The Notwist’s obsessive attention to detail in the studio rivals Radiohead’s, which perhaps isn’t a coincidence — the jangly shoegaze of “Good Lies” evokes a Thom Yorke-esque ennui and “Gravity” sounds almost like an outtake from Kid A.

Archer explains the process: “We started two years ago to just compose music and exchange ideas and files and compositions. We worked kind of similar to Neon Golden, so we recorded a lot of different stuff and kind of collected tracks and sounds and everything for every song. And then we just chose what will stay for the arrangement of the songs.” 

“[We’re] always recording a lot and then just kind of throwing away a lot,” he adds. “On some parts we were very inspired by dub reggae records from the ’70s where you just have, like, drums, bass, keyboard, guitar and singing and everything can kind of stand alone, on its own. And sometimes you have different combinations that totally sound different. So that was something that inspired us. We always tried to have a track that could, you know, stand alone and sound totally different.

“But in the end, it’s always the song. That’s the most important thing, the centre of it.”
Neon Golden was quickly followed by a remix EP entitled Different Cars and Trains featuring reworkings by Console, Four Tet and Caribou’s Dan Snaith (as Manitoba). With an emphasis on parts that can stand alone, The Notwist’s music is a remixer’s dream — though not by design.  

“What we wanted to do was to kind of [compose our songs while] already thinking of all the ways you could remix the song, you know; thinking of every song and its different directions. So we never thought of remixes other people could do, we just thought of how to make remixes unnecessary in a way.”

Though the Archer brothers seem to have mastered the art of sorting through tracks and assembling complex pop compositions, playing the songs live during the summer festival season already had Markus excited about other musical possibilities. “When we make the next record, we will work differently for sure,” he says prophetically. “Because I think working in that way too much, like recording a lot and kind of not really playing together, just exchanging stuff and working too much in the computer — after a while it’s really hard to get energy and emotion into the songs because you kind of lose it in the machine.”

Sounds like the future motif of The Notwist’s glitch pop may be human after all.