Vee’s Krautrock Transmission: From the Middle of Nowhere, Straight to Your Ears

Somewhere in the dead centre of a wide open field, a lone telephone booth stands like an art installation that wandered out too far and forgot the way home. Inside, the mysterious Vee leans against the glass, the wind whistling in the receiver as she beams her latest Lost in a Wide Open Field broadcast across the ether.

This time, it’s over an hour of pure, undiluted Krautrock — 10 tracks that chart the genre’s hypnotic, head-expanding terrain. Some are well-trodden classics, others are ghosts from long-deleted pressings, the kind of vinyl that obsessive collectors chase with the tenacity of archaeologists hunting lost civilisations.

The crown jewel? A raw, improvised spark from Can, lifted straight from their legendary John Peel session in the 1970s — a performance that still feels like a live wire running through the decades. The rest of the set spans motorik rhythms, cosmic synth odysseys, and guitar lines that seem to dissolve into the stratosphere.

From her improbable command centre in the grasslands, Vee stitches together a soundtrack that’s equal parts archive dig and cosmic pilgrimage — proof that even in the most isolated places, the right signal can still find you.