There can be few artists in the history of electronic music that have embraced synthesiser technology as wholesomely as Klaus Schulze. Just one look through this beautifully repacked reissue of his 1978 album “X” proves just how consumed Schulze is/was by the wonders of technology, as he sits flanked by a dozen keyboards, spawning a mass of plug-ins and wires. “X” was already Schulze’ tenth album, and features 7 tracks (including the bonus Objet D’Louis), each named after a famous German figurehead.

Schulze's lengthy compositions are a little more diverse on “X” than many of his more ‘themed’ albums, beginning with the prog-rock via electric guitar and drums of Friedrich Nietzsche and the space age cosmic electronica of Geroge Trakl, before branching out into deeper classical territory on disc two. Schulze writes easy-listening electronic music that isn’t always easy to listen to, in that it takes time for his compositions to imbed themselves on the psyche. And few have that patience in today’s modern ‘listen and go’ society, which revolves around grabbing short bursts of pleasure that require only mandatory patterns of thought or escapism.

Listening to Schulze therefore requires a reprogramming of the brain, a whole different proposition, and therefore largely unique – only a few artists, such as Tangerine Dream, Pink Floyd or Eno, have successfully shared his vision and flare for creating lengthy improvised electronic music that doesn’t sound inhuman or mechanically sequenced. However, “X” was recorded 27 years ago, and although Schulze back catalogue has, for the most part, managed to remain remarkably contemporary, “X” has certain license to sound old-skool. However, the track Friedemann Bach is an exception to that rule, as Schulze mixes orchestral elements to a pulsing keyboard loop to deliver some sumptuously fleshed-out and haunting dark ambient electronic music. His superior genius is laid remarkably bare here, and it’s little wonder that Schulze has been inundated with soundtrack work throughout his career.

Disc two then attempts to explode the old-skool theory altogether, opening with a flourish of rich, analogue synthesised sounds that make you realise why these old machines are so utterly irreplaceable. In fact, Schulze is said to have dedicated this album “..to my precious synthesizers”. The track, Ludwig II Von Bayern, is a 30-minute feast of classical orchestration, huge choirs, and melodic synth play that simply has no peers; and is incredibly ahead of its time from a production viewpoint. The word ‘genius’ rarely seems so fitting.

“X” is maybe Schulze's magnum opus – an album of impenetrable skill, full of complex layers, melancholy moods, raw talent, and yet completely uncoventional. If you only buy one Schulze album you should probably make it this, many consider it the peak of his career – although I wouldn’t necessarily agree, as Schulze is too electic to be pidgeonholed by any single body of work – and other albums carry different atmospheric elements. However, it’s a superb starting point.