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.
The numbers tell a quiet but sobering story. Today, the average man in the UK can expect to live 81 years. Not so long ago, until 2011, that man could claim his state pension at 65. On average, that meant 16 years of life without work — years to spend however he wished before the inevitable closing of the book.
By 2030, the figures shift. Life expectancy nudges upward to 82 years, but the pension age rises faster, to 68. The gain in years is outpaced by the gain in labour, leaving the average man with just 14 years to call his own after a lifetime of work. A quiet recalibration of the equation: more time alive, but less time free.
And this is not the whole picture. Look closely at what’s been done to women’s pensions since 2011, and the story becomes even sharper, even more unsettling.
We were once told — and believed — that we worked not just for ourselves but for something larger: that our children would inherit a life better than the one we knew. That each generation would stand a little taller, see a little further. But the arithmetic of modern life suggests a different legacy: more years spent earning, fewer years living.
It is worth asking, as the days pass and the calendar turns — what are we working toward? And when the work is done, how much of ourselves will be left to enjoy what remains?
Irregular Frequencies 