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I consider myself to be fairly well-versed in musical awareness; I know a little bit about a lot of artists, and I know a lot-a-bit about several musicians in different genres. So I was caught off guard when approached about a “very famous” punk act I had never heard of. Apparently, they were quite influential in the underground scene and had since made it into the “mainstream”—going something like 20 years strong. I agreed to check them out, and feeling slightly ignorant that I had never heard their music before I took the obvious next step—and googled the hell out of them.

What was their name again? KDFMCK? MST3K? No wait, that’s that television show that makes fun of old B movies.

Once I finally typed “KMFDM” into my browser, I knew I had gotten it right. My friend, Subterfuge’s mainstay photographer, the very talented Sarah Takako Skinner, knew what she was talking about. These guys and gal have one of the most extensive and comprehensive musical narratives I have ever heard of. First of all, they’re responsible for cultivating an entire genre of music, Industrial Body Music, a combination of Electronic Body Music with a more industrial, metal edge. Not to mention they have internationally littered popular culture with their mark; as they originated from Germany, their European fan base remains loyal, but they have perhaps had a more controversial imprint here in the U.S., where Seattle has become their home-away-from-homeland. In fact, Seattleites proudly announce and welcome KMFDM as “locals.”

It’s no wonder, as this menagerie-of-misfits has hit some pretty illustrious- and infamous- highs in their career. In 1993, after migrating to the United States- making their first stop in Chicago before finding a more fitting home in Seattle- the anti-commercial KMFDM ironically found their hit single, “Drug Against War” in MTV’s video rotation. In fact, the video even found a home on the landmark cartoon Beavis and Butt-head, where the characters watching and commenting on live action music videos playing in their animated TV became a staple of the series. KMFDM's unexpected and refreshing take on metal has also earned them attention from industry vets with an eye for creative exploration-gone-right like Nine Inch Nails and Bill Rieflin from R.E.M.; Rieflin actually spent some time in the lineup, and Nine Inch Nails remixed music for KMFDM.

Of course the road to success hasn’t been spotless for these scrappy sages. Sascha Konietzko, original lead vocalist and founding mastermind, has seen KMFDM’s fate nearly cut short on multiple occasions. When “creative differences” with critical original members, En Esch and Gunter Shulz arose, Konietzko spent one album as the redefined MDFMK (“KMFDM” backwards). After a three year hiatus, things were looking bleak for their loyal legions of fans. Though KMFDM came back together in 2002 with both past and original members, the influential En Esch and Shulz apparently denied Sascha’s invitation to return. This, and the fact that the ever-creative Konietzko is also known to be a bit of a stubborn hot-head is perhaps why Konietzko’s crew has become more known as a revolving door of talented artists, as opposed to bands who create their brand around a stable of specific signatures.

Then there was the time that the band faced a media-firestorm shortly into their American inhabitance. You may recall that shortly after the Columbine shootings there was an outcry over the potential for persuasion that controversial musicians had on the youth; this mostly due to the fact that the two shooters had several musicians listed on their website in an almost worshipping fashion. Little did I know at the time of the horrific massacre, but KMFDM was being pinned as one of the main culprits. While Marilyn Manson used the opportunity to further instigate controversy with his press statement, KMFDM distanced themselves from the negative portrayal with a statement that read both articulately and compassionately. Perhaps most admirable of all, Konietzko rightly objected the “dark”, “Nazi-supporting”, “war-mongrels” associations to his outfit’s dogma. Regardless of the stigmas attached to heavier genres of music like rock and metal, Konietzko’s lyrics have long represented a progressive, anti-oppression, anti-violence agenda, and the attempted correlation to the high school tragedy truly sickened the passionate vocalist. Years later he would face the same insult when the 2007 and 2008 Finnish school shootings drew similar ire, though that time Sascha directly refuted the comparisons to a European radio broadcaster.

It would be foolish to think that such adversity would be enough for the wunderkind and his gifted group of cohorts to call it quits though. Perhaps one of the hardest working musical acts in the industry, KMFDM has created a reputation as one of the most fan-friendly (albeit not necessarily journalist friendly) acts in the business, while steadily releasing music every year since 1986. Not pleased with just being available for autographs and pictures before and after shows- which in itself is conspicuously absent in other artists- KMFDM has spent time creating new avenues to connect them to their fans who retain a nearly religious affinity for the members. They actively participate in fan club, member-only chat-rooms, tour around the clock and calendar year and create unique contests that allow for special fan experiences. In fact, at their most recent Seattle stop at “The Moore Theatre”, I ran into a guy excitedly holding the elusive “fankam”. He explained the idea thusly: a fan enters a contest in which they are given a camcorder to take around the scenes, sometimes backstage, at KMFDM concerts, whose footage is then used by the band- for example, most recently in their 20^th anniversary compilation DVD. Similar techniques were used for the “FanPhone”, where fans left voicemail recordings that were later included in one of the band’s next tracks. Even with the excessive energy demanded from ventures like this, KMFDM has consistently delivered the most important thing of all to their fans: music. Hiatus included (the members all stayed active in various side-projects), at least one EP, if not a full-length album, has been released annually.

One gathers from their evolution of sound alone that KMFDM members are constantly engaging themselves artistically, thus spawning sounds and lyrics in never-before-touched territories. Since the 80s, KMFDM has explored everything from reggae to experimental performance art that at times even included such “instruments” as vacuum cleaners. With the replacement of more ominous, guttural vocals for new female vocalist Lucia Cifarelli’s hypnotic pipes and beat-heavy rhythms, KMFDM has entered a more natural sound terrain, while still managing surprising effects. Their lyrics still remain a medium for social commentary, often incorporating portions of real news broadcasts, but they divert into the seemingly absurd or abstract as well. Their spacy, robotic sound is infectious on tracks like “Never Say Never” and “Take ‘Em Out"—I dare you to sit through either without finding your shoulders suspiciously alternating to the beat—while songs like “Symbol” still honor their industrial roots.

When attending their aforementioned show at The Moore, I was acquainted with their emblematic sound- or fan base. The look of horror on the faces of dance-loving-punk-hipsters, ranging in age from 15 to 50 years old, that this clearly uninitiated blonde girl was being led backstage by the gracious and talented opening act, Legion Within, was obvious. I didn’t know the go-to dance move: It apparently involves, and remember we’re talking about 50-year-old men, clasping your hands above your head so that your arms make a big “O” shape and moving your hips from side to side. I didn’t have a worn KMFDM tour shirt from ten years back, and I wasn’t moved to tears reminiscent of Michael Jackson tours in the early 90s. But I could see the allure. The beats thudded the packed house into a trance-like ricochet of studded belt-clad hips, and watching Cifarelli—who resembled an anime cartoon model with tightly wound Princess Leia buns on either side of her head—contort her body as she pranced around the stage was oddly mesmerizing. Though I had never heard music that sounded even remotely like any of their songs, I could easily follow the tracks by the time the chorus hit. But if one thing has remained a constant for this intriguing bunch, it absolutely has to be their sense of humor.

Numerous occasions over the span of their career has allowed KMFDM tongue-in-cheek opportunities- including their own name. There’s much debate to be had about what the initialism stands for exactly. It’s said to derive from the logically backwards German phrase, “Kein Mehrheit Für Die Mitleid,” which translates in English as “No Majority for the Pity,” instead of the grammatically correct, “No Pity for the Majority,” or “No Mercy for the Masses.” What remains to be seen is if this screw-up was intentional or even if the jargon was actually a familiar phrase amongst Germans before KMFDM adopted it. It remains to be seen because the members have continuously poked fun at journalists and fans' confusion in both song and interview- intentionally spouting off various meanings that continue to complicate the debate. It was clear that I wasn’t going to be the one to get the answer out of them. More hilarious is the band has a sense of humor about themselves too. In the way that all the Hot Topic kids dress alike in their quest to be “different", KMFDM recognizes their own conformity to quirks that have become an expected tradition, like their habit of five-letter word album titles. At many of their shows the audience has been known to shout “KMFDM sucks!” to coax them out for an encore in which they then perform one of their many self-referential and self-deprecating tracks like “Intro.”

Lastly, there’s the fun KMFDM made out of a not-so-comical copyright drama they faced in 1991. After sampling a deceased Carl Orff’s “O Fortuna” in their track “Liebeslied”, Orff’s publisher sued for copyright infringement, which eventually ceased production of the album Naïve. Instead of playing dead, KMFDM came back with the remastered release of Naïve/Hell To Go, with the replacement track “Liebesleid”. For you non-Germanics majors, the joke lies in the subtle translation, as well as the backwards “Go To Hell” album title. “Libeslied” with the “I” before “E” translates to “love-song”, whereas the new “Libesleid” with the “E” coming first translates to “physical pain”. You would think that after 25 years we would know KMFDM always gets the last laugh; the original production of Naïve that Orff’s publisher demanded be put to bed is now a high priced collectors item among fans and music affficionados.