by Andy Kellman
Imagine a child that's been given a toy with detailed directions. Frustrated with its complexities, the child throws out the directions and chucks the toy against a wall, proceeding to step on it, bite it, smash it, and ultimately break it into as many pieces as he can. Bored with merely making as much noise as possible with the toy, the child begins to examine its parts and how it works. Though the child puts it together in a way that was not intended, the child becomes enamored with the new toy. Funf Auf Der Nach is where Neubauten truly grab hold of their broken elements and fashion them into something completely unique and (relatively) contemporary at the same time. Take their sleazy, spaghetti-westernized cover of Tim Rose's &Morning Dew& for instance, and the structured manner in which the record glides by. Very subdued and darkly ambient throughout, it's nowhere near the aural riots of yesteryear. For its lack of cacophony, and as restrained and formed as it is, Neubauten are just as unsettling, gripping, and tension-ridden as ever -- they're just finding a new way to be all of that. You expect the big release during the closer, &Kein Bestandteil Sein,& but you don't get it. Funf auf der Nach is like watching a stalker cleverly follow its prey for miles, only to watch it shy away just short of lodging a knife into the back of the followed.