{"id":39204,"date":"2026-02-26T19:35:41","date_gmt":"2026-02-26T18:35:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/orkus1.com\/thats-how-it-was-with-de-vision-redux\/"},"modified":"2026-02-26T19:36:05","modified_gmt":"2026-02-26T18:36:05","slug":"thats-how-it-was-with-de-vision-redux","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orkus1.com\/en\/thats-how-it-was-with-de-vision-redux\/","title":{"rendered":"That’s how it was with DE\/VISION Redux"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n

February 14, 2026, Hamburg, MarkthalleSupport: Thomas Schernikau, M\/A\/T <\/strong><\/p>\n\n

When synthpop gets quieter – and stronger<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

There are bands that accompany a scene. And there are bands that have helped shape it. Since the late eighties, De\/Vision<\/strong> have been one of the names that have charged German synthpop with melody and emotional openness. Never cool for cool’s sake and no pathos without substance. They never understood synthpop merely as a style, but as a feeling – vulnerable, direct, sometimes defiant, often melancholic. As something that gets under your skin instead of just working in the club. With De\/Vision Redux<\/strong>, they are now opening another chapter – more reduced, more direct, rethought. With Redux<\/strong>, they lay their songs bare, stripping them of their dense production like armor. – A conscious uncovering of what has always been the core. <\/p>\n\n

Hamburg on February 14, 2026: the cold is crisp outside, silence gathers inside. It’s Valentine’s Day – but without kitsch, without red hearts. This is about other forms of closeness. About the kind of intimacy that arises when a song suddenly sounds more personal than any declaration of love. The Markthalle seems smaller than usual on this evening. Not because of the people – it is well filled – but because of the atmosphere. Muted conversations, thick fog, warm light that barely reaches above head height. No glaring spectacle.Rather a hall that listens – and lets you dance. <\/p>\n\n

Prelude in the semi-darkness<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Thomas Schernikau<\/strong> from Forced to Mode<\/strong> kicks things off. Alone on stage, he shows a different facet – reduced, clear, focused. His voice carries seriousness, almost something contemplative, as if he holds each line up to the light once more before releasing it. Not a grand spectacle, but a concentrated introduction that draws the audience’s attention instead of overwhelming them. A quiet prelude that prepares the audience for what is to come. M\/A\/T<\/strong> then take the stage. Electronic structures, clear, hard bass, a hint of coldness in the sound.The beats pick up speed, the light gets harder, the first bodies start to sway to the beat. We are now awake and breathing to the rhythm. <\/p>\n\n

Redux – Heartbeat without armor<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

A quiet intro, then “Drifter” – and immediately there is this special mixture of melancholy and energy in the air. Not loud, not intrusive, but like a familiar thought returning. With “Addict” and “Rage”, pressure comes in, controlled, focused, without losing the emotional line. Nothing is overdrawn here, nothing artificially inflated – every note seems deliberately placed. “I’m Not Dreaming of You” opens the evening inwards, almost like a silent soliloquy. After that, “Flavor of the Week” and “Free from Cares” create bright contrasts in the fog, creating movement without breaking the intimacy. This is followed by “I Regret” and “Time to Be Alive”, two songs that oscillate between self-reflection and departure. With “Dress Me When I Bleed”, things become more intimate, almost vulnerable, before “Blue Moon” and “Dinner without Grace” further illuminate the emotional depth and show how much substance there is in these pieces. “Deliver Me” pulls the energy back up, driving it forward, while “Your Hands On My Skin” makes closeness almost tangible – not staged, but honest, immediate. “Synchronize” finally brings everything together – movement, memory, collective singing along. The hall pulsates in unison, not wildly, but consciously. Not an ecstatic outburst, but a collective heartbeat. <\/p>\n\n

Encores that stay<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

De\/Vision <\/strong>return with “Strange Affection” – and suddenly there is that old magic in the room, that bittersweet pull between longing and the dance floor. The voices in the audience carry the chorus on, almost tenderly, almost defiantly, as if they want to hold on to it. This is followed by “Try to Forget”. The title seems like a contradiction, because nobody here wants to forget. The song grows slowly, building up layer by layer, without haste, without pressure, and finally dissolves in a final moment together. No grand finale. No dramatic final chord. – Rather a conscious fade-out – like a single long breath still hanging in the room as the light is already getting brighter. <\/p>\n\n

Reverberation<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

With their Redux<\/strong> project in Hamburg, De\/Vision<\/strong> show that reduction is not a weakness. On the contrary: when electronic classics shed their dense production, what remains is what has always carried them – controlled, concentrated honesty. De\/Vision<\/strong> did not reinvent anything on this evening. They have uncovered what has always been there: emotion without armor, melody without distraction, closeness without distance. Perhaps that is Redux<\/strong>‘s real strength: not being louder, but more honest. And sometimes that’s enough. <\/p>\n\n

Text & Photos: Thomas Friedel Fuhrmann<\/p>\n\n