There was a time, back in the 1980s, when 1920s German retro was chic and cool. Side partings, narrow collars and ties and images from Fritz Lang movies, albeit briefly, came to represent musical modernism. Of course, the Weimar Republic’s artistic offspring was not about being buttoned down and greyly conformist - the artists, writers and film makers of that period in German history fought for flamboyance, diversity and change - often underpinned by biting humour.

Sadly, there’s bugger all of that on show on this CD despite the Maria Robot on the cover and the men with thin collars and side partings prodding the synthesisers that fill up the tracks.

What quickly becomes apparent when listening to this collection, the second in the series, is just how much the tracks have in common. Certain synth sounds reappear time and again, a sound pallet that their players would have claimed - wholly erroneously - was the antidote to worn out guitar clichés, wholly missing the point that the synth fiddlers were just as conservative as the string benders they so despised.

Worse still is the fact that the only parts of this CD that sound exciting and sophisticated are stolen from just two sources: Brian Eno and Kraftwerk. That’s not just a narrow field of vision, it’s also an entirely unimaginative one. Yes, Eno’s Another Green World is an amazing album, and yes, Kraftwerk pioneered synth music with a wholly novel approach, but there’s more, so much more, to this genre.

What’s missing is Cabaret Voltaire [Nag, Nag, Nag], Robert Rental [TVOD] and Throbbing Gristle [Something Came Over Me]. And what about The Human League [Tom Baker]? All these people made electronic music during the period represented on this disc and much of it was so much better than this sad roundup.

To cap it all, the cardboard box and baking tray sounds that made up early synth drum kits were horribly thin, while the bleeps and pops that fill the grooves were tired and conservative almost as soon as they were programmed. Oh, and let’s not forget that this is a wholly humourless collection of dreary grey noise made by equally dreary grey young men: hardly a recipe for a fun time.

There’s nothing wrong with a bit of musical archaeology providing that what you’re digging up is shiny and interesting. Unfortunately, what’s on offer here is largely dull and inconsequential.

My advice for seekers of challenging and non-mainstream music from yesteryear would be to track down Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, The Residents’ version of Satisfaction, Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music and The Faust Tapes. These will challenge your ears way more than this lamentable collection of lacklustre laments to urban alienation and faux nihilism.

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Ray Cathode