There was a vibe of sentimental retro-futuristic romanticism (you had to be there) in the air at Wolverhampton Civic Hall, as well a hint of the hedonistic techno clubber, as synth-pop fans and one-time ravers gathered to hear four ageing Germans provide a glimpse into what we thought might be the future and for the most part still sounds like it could be.

The majority of Kraftwerk’s music might be 50 years old (some of it older), but the date stamp could just as easily be 50 years hence, such is the high-tech, space-age and at times other-worldly - and potentially AI-generated - nature of the pulsating electronica of the music genre’s pioneers. Without wishing to offend band leader Ralf Hütter (the only surviving original member and at 79 defying time himself) and his cohorts, the likes of The Man-Machine, Autobahn, Computer World and Spacelab have always felt generated by robots or computers - even the titles sound more like functional industrial labels than songs.

It’s all part of the outfit’s raison d’être of course (is there a German-language equivalent?), and a mystique its members have always played up to, meaning it could be almost anybody on stage, the virtually anonymous quartet more like cyborgs operating computers than humans playing keyboards. Indeed there are times when the band seem barely there at all - their glowing, colour-changing Tron-style outfits blending into the vibrant visuals playing on a giant screen behind them.

The latter element is worth the admission fee alone. An immersive digital spectacle first unveiled over a decade ago at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the patterns, movies and 3D graphics (the bulk following the aforementioned retro-futuristic theme) synch perfectly with the audio and elevate music concert into a multimedia treat for the senses.

And what a treat - atmospheric washes of sound and familiar keyboard motifs (Kraftwerk have been sampled by everyone from Dr Dre and Afrika Bambaataa to New Order and err, Coldplay) propelled by repetitive, occasionally super-phat beats, and cascading, kaleidoscopic visuals. There was brief respite during a gently poignant cover of Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence - played as a tribute to Hütter’s late friend and collaborator Ryūichi Sakamoto - but no sooner was it over than we were plunged into the dynamic, and dynamite, double-whammy of Geiger Counter and Radioactivity.

The seated show meant dancing was largely restricted to bobbing in seats - save for a few hardy souls that got up during Trans-Europe Express and encore We Are The Robots - but it hardly diminished a terrific night of audio and visual entertainment that was less gig and more sensory experience. And there’s nothing remotely artificial about that.

Four stars

Reviewed by Steve Adams at the University of Wolverhampton at The Halls, Wolverhampton on Thursday 21 May.