Sauerkraut. Oktoberfest. T.Raumschmiere. These three things are very … well, German. T.R’s pounding electro has enough gas to fuel a 24-hour party, but unless getting punched in the head repeatedly is your cup of tea, this album may not be for you. The unrelenting attack of surgical strikes like “Querstromzerspaner”and “Monstertruckdriver” are broken only by the sweet mercy of the title track. All the buzzing sound in the world can’t suppress the feeling that T.R’s methodical drive toward the finish line is closer to engineering a new sedan than any sort of punk ethos.