Josh Lucan Dissects Kraftwerk’s ‘Numbers’: Sequencing Chaos With Style

Right out the gate, Lucan zooms in on the bit of ‘Numbers’ that’s made synth heads scratch their skulls for years—the arpeggio. It sounds as if Kraftwerk’s sequencer drank a pint of chaos, yet there’s an odd regularity lurking beneath the surface. Forget note-by-note programming; this is about a pattern darting between order and wildness, with Lucan arguing it’s all built on a deceptively simple mechanism.

He breaks down his transcription process, using ear training and mental keyboard gymnastics to map out every note. What emerges isn’t randomness, but a repeating zigzag shape in every bar—a sonic signature that’s consistent even as the notes themselves jump all over the shop. Lucan’s approach is clinical but never dry; he finds the groove in the madness, showing us that Kraftwerk’s machine logic has a human pulse.

Now for the real synth-nerd bait: the sequencer. Lucan zeroes in on the Synthanorma 316, a custom Kraftwerk box with sixteen steps, octave controls, and a transpose section with a notorious slew knob. Forget polite, step-by-step melodies—this beast injects voltage glide for that signature, drunken lurch between pitches. The two transpose switches let you hurl the sequence up or down, all while the slew knob stretches the pitch shift into a fluid, unpredictable slide.

Lucan’s theory? Kraftwerk dialled in a basic pattern and then mangled it with these controls to unleash pure, controlled chaos. No one’s got the original manual, but this theory tracks: it’s the kind of mechanical hack that turns a rigid machine into an unruly street fighter. If you want polite, look elsewhere. This sequencer’s got attitude.

Lucan breaks down the arpeggio’s wild ride through different key centres, spotting how each bar leaps to a new tonal zone—not unlike a jazz soloist darting through chord changes. Mapping the arpeggio in MIDI, he finds a regular, almost mechanical up-and-down motion, mirrored in the back half of each bar. It’s less random than it sounds; there’s logic in the zigzag, even when the pitches seem to bounce off the walls.

What’s really bonkers: the sequence plays out over 14 bars before looping, with mirrored key shifts creating a feeling of endless movement. Lucan’s dissection is sharp—he sniffs out the preset logic Kraftwerk baked in, showing how the machine’s bones structure the chaos. If you want to hear it in action, the video’s sound examples say more than words ever could.

After all the patching, Lucan pitches his own app—Keystitch. It’s not just another piano trainer; it’s designed to help you visualise and internalise note patterns, making those wild Kraftwerk changes feel like second nature. He’s giving away a thousand free lifetime copies, so if you ever wanted to see music the way Lucan does, now’s your chance.