There are bands that become frozen in the amber of their own legend — beautiful, but untouchable. And then there are those that flow like a river: changing course, meandering, disappearing underground for years only to resurface somewhere unexpected, yet always remaining the same water. Kraan belongs to this second category — a living, breathing, ever‑renewing thread woven through musical history. Their story is a half‑century‑long dialogue between jazz, rock, funk and something that can only be described with one word: freedom.
The early years — from the 1972 debut to Andy Nogger — were like a narcotic dream of fusion, where improvisation was currency and groove a religion. Wiederhören (1977) brought crystalline harmony, as if the band had learned to tame chaos without losing its energy. Then came decades of silence, returns, reinventions, until The Hindsight Notes proved that Kraan could breathe modernity without losing their ethnic, organic spirit.
And now, in 2026, comes All In — an album that is not a return to the past, but its full bloom. A record on which the trio of Hellmut Hattler, Peter Wolbrandt and Jan Fride, supported by the keyboard sensitivity of Martin Kasper, no longer needs to prove anything. They stand in full sunlight, without technical tension, without the ambition to outplay anyone. They play music that does not want to impress — it wants to be your home.
The Anatomy of Joy: Twelve Frames of Being
Every track on All In is like a stained‑glass window through which a different light enters. There are no unnecessary sounds here. Every note is exactly where it should be — in service of the shared good we have called, for fifty years, by one word: groove.
1. Petunha (04:12)
The album opens like a window cracked open at dawn. Peter Wolbrandt’s acoustic guitar glistens like dew on grass — not virtuosic, not showy, but full of natural, human lightness. This is music that doesn’t try to convince you — it wants to welcome you. Wolbrandt’s voice, warm and unhurried, sounds like an old friend saying: “come, sit with me in the sun for a moment.” It’s a manifesto of gentleness, an opening that sets the tone for the entire record: nothing forced, everything from the heart.
2. Tadpole (04:33)
Hellmut Hattler takes the helm. His bass doesn’t play lines — it draws a landscape. “Tadpole” pulses like young life beneath the surface of water, like movement still searching for its shape. It’s a funk poem about the birth of energy. The rhythm section works with surgical precision, but without coldness — this is a pulse that carries warmth. Kasper adds keyboard reflections that shimmer like light on rippling waves. A track about how even the smallest impulse can become the beginning of a river.
3. Press Play (04:01)
This is Kraan in “switch on and go” mode. The track feels like the first step after a long break — confident, springy, full of good energy. Wolbrandt’s guitar leads the melody with the elegance of someone who knows every turn of this musical road. Fride plays with a lightness reminiscent of a jazz trio, but the groove is unmistakably Kraan: soft, organic, swaying. Music that says: “don’t overthink it — just begin.”
4. Over The Moon (04:28)
Here the flight begins. Kasper’s keys create a space that rises like mist over a summer lake. Wolbrandt’s guitar enters with a delicacy that feels more like a touch than a sound. It’s a track about quiet wonder — not the loud, theatrical kind, but the intimate one that appears when you look at the world from a distance and see that everything is in its place. Kraan doesn’t need to accelerate — they let the music drift.
5. Sonderfahrt (05:02)
“Sonderfahrt” is a ride without a ticket, without a plan, without a destination — pure joy of movement. Hattler’s bass is the engine of an old, reliable car humming under the driver’s fingers. Wolbrandt’s guitar adds melodies that feel like landscapes passing by the window. A track about freedom that doesn’t need big words. Rhythm is enough.
6. Braunfels (03:47)
The only track with Wolbrandt on vocals. His voice sounds like a story told at a kitchen table — warm, ordinary, true. The music feels like a walk through a town you’ve known for years: every corner familiar, yet still capable of surprising you. It’s the closest the album comes to a song‑form moment, but still immersed in Kraan’s pulse.
7. Terzer Roller (04:22)
We return to instrumental magic. “Terzer Roller” is a track that both rolls and floats. Fride’s drums are like wheels on gravel, while Wolbrandt’s guitar paints a pastel landscape above it. Music of the road — the outer one and the inner one.
8. Loblied (03:58)
A hymn — not religious, but existential. Hattler’s bass sounds like a prayer in motion, like a praise of simplicity. Kasper’s keys add light that spreads wide, as if someone opened the door to a sunlit morning. A track about gratitude.
9. Nacht in Den Helder (05:11)
The most cinematic moment on the album. Darkness, but not threatening — soft, enveloping. Wolbrandt’s guitar glows like a streetlamp reflected in wet pavement. Hattler’s bass leads the narrative with a seriousness that doesn’t overwhelm but calms. A night in which nothing bad will happen. A night that lets you breathe.
10. Auf weiter Flur (04:44)
Space. Breath. Horizon. A track that sounds like the wide fields of Hesse, like a landscape without end. Kasper’s keys create a backdrop so broad that Wolbrandt’s guitar can dance freely within it. Music that gives you room.
11. Sehr gerne (03:36)
The most playful, light‑hearted, wink‑and‑smile moment on the album. Kraan in “let’s play something because we’re having a good day” mode. The groove is soft, the drums springy, the guitar smiling. A track that says: “with pleasure — very gladly.”
12. All In (05:45)
The finale. And what a finale. Hattler sings like someone who has lived through everything and regrets nothing. His bass is a heart beating in full sunlight. Wolbrandt’s guitar rises above it like a bird that knows every gust of wind. A track about putting everything on one card — and winning. A manifesto of maturity, joy, acceptance.
Where Does “All In” Belong in Kraan’s History?
This is an album that closes a cycle without ending it.
If the early records were youthful adventure,
and the 70s albums — technical perfection,
then All In is the wisdom of musicians who know that the most important thing in music is joy.
With Martin Kasper’s support, the Hattler–Wolbrandt–Fride trio has found the perfect balance between jazz intellect and pop lightness. This is a record on which Kraan no longer needs to prove they are a krautrock legend. They can simply be a band playing music full of light.
Epilogue: Stand in the Light of Joyful Waves
In the context of their entire discography, All In is like a warm afternoon after a long day of work. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t pretend. It doesn’t try to force anything. It simply is — authentic, pulsing, alive.
If you seek truth that doesn’t need heavy riffs to be convincing,
if you want to hear what freedom sounds like when it no longer fears the passage of time —
All In is a mandatory stop.
One of those rare albums after which, even in silence, you still hear that steady, joyful rhythm.
The rhythm of a life that went all in on music.
