Kino by Zero Zero: A Neon-Glazed Trip Back to 1983
Alright, let’s talk about Kino, the quirky little gem from Zero Zero that dropped in '83. This German duo was cooking up something wild with their mix of Rock and Electronic vibes, throwing in dashes of New Wave and Synth-pop for good measure. Released under Metronome, this album feels like a time capsule stuffed with angular beats, moody synths, and just enough edge to make you sit up straight.
The title track, “Kino,” kicks things off with a vibe that screams midnight drives through neon-lit streets—except you're driving a Trabant instead of a Ferrari. The pulsing bassline locks into your brain like it owns the lease, while the vocals are delivered with this detached coolness that screams early ‘80s Euro flair. It’s not trying too hard, but man, does it work. You can practically smell the stale popcorn and hear the hum of an old projector running in the background—it’s cinematic, but in that lo-fi, DIY way that makes it feel authentic.
Then there’s “Nachts Wenn Der Teufel Kommt.” Oh boy, where do I even start? If “Kino” is all sleek surfaces and polished chrome, this one’s got rust and grit under its nails. It opens with these eerie synth stabs that sound like someone left a Casio keyboard out in the rain overnight. But then—BAM—the beat drops, and suddenly you’re caught in this hypnotic groove that refuses to let go. There’s something almost sinister about how smooth it feels; it’s like being charmed by a vampire who’s also really into Kraftwerk. By the second chorus, you’re either dancing awkwardly in your kitchen or questioning all your life choices. Either way, it sticks with you.
What’s wild about Kino is how unapologetically itself it is. Zero Zero weren’t chasing trends—they were building their own little sonic universe, one bleep and bloop at a time. Sure, some tracks might feel a bit rough around the edges, but isn’t that what makes them so endearing? It’s music that doesn’t take itself too seriously, even when it probably should.
And here’s the kicker: listening to Kino now feels like finding an old VHS tape in your grandparents’ attic. It’s nostalgic, yes, but also kinda weird and slightly alien. Like, did people really dress like that back then? Did they think shoulder pads were a good idea? Who knows. But one thing’s for sure—if you dig New Wave with a side of existential dread, this album’s got your name on it.
Final thought? Listening to Kino makes me wonder if Zero Zero knew they were making music for robots with feelings. Or maybe they just wanted to soundtrack every late-night diner scene in every movie ever made. Either way, respect.
