Tangerine Dream formed in Berlin in 1966 and debuted with the 45 rpm single Lady Greengrass / Love Of Mine. Guitarist Edgar Froese had already led a small acid-rock band modeled on the Pink Floyd, which had their only moment of glory when they performed at a Salvador Dalí exhibition. The lineup was completed by percussionist Klaus Schulze and keyboardist Conrad Schnitzler.

The first album, Electronic Meditation (Ohr, 1970), recorded in October 1969 by Edgar Froese on guitar, Farfisa, and piano, Klaus Schulze on drums and percussion, and Conrad Schnitzler on violin and cello, is an album in the proudest psychedelic tradition—a maelstrom of distorted guitars, chaotic percussion, and string instruments amplified to the limit of their acoustic possibilities. The influence of the Pink Floyd is all too evident: the tour de force is Reise Durch Ein Brennendes Gehirn (12 minutes), whose organ crescendo recalls A Saucerful Of Secrets and whose guitar barrage evokes Interstellar Overdrive. Cold Sweat offers an even more chaotic form of psychedelia.

Later, Klaus Schulze went solo, Conrad Schnitzler formed the Cluster, and Edgar Froese started over with a humbler lineup, highlighted by percussionist Christopher Franke, formerly of Agitation Free. It was Franke who had the idea of shifting the focus of the sound toward synthesizers and sequencers. This was the decisive insight. Not only did he invent the future of Tangerine Dream, but he also invented the future of electronic music as a whole.

Tangerine Dream therefore became a quintet on Alpha Centauri (Ohr, 1971): Froese on guitar and bass, Franke on percussion, flute, harp, and synthesizer, Roland Paulick on synthesizer, Steve Schroeder on Hammond and Farfisa, Udo Dennenbourg on flute. The three improvised jams on this album leave the terrestrial world behind and launch into infinity. The approach draws equally from jazz-rock, avant-garde music, and acid-rock. More than the sunlit cathedral-organ liturgy of Sunrise In The Third System, still infused with A Saucerful Of Secrets and Indian mantras, the long Fly And Collision Of Comas Sola (13 minutes) indicated the future of the group, with the galactic whines of synthesizers chasing and intertwining across the vast empty spaces of the universe and yet another organ crescendo, only to be cut down by astronomical disturbances, torrential percussive noise, and free-flute evolutions.

Bursting with panicked fervor, combining Asimov’s galactic sagas and the prophets of the Apocalypse, the title track breaks the twenty-minute barrier, but above all indulges in the most harrowing cacophonies, letting electronic distortions, resonances, reverbs, and keyboard drones float in the void. In the absence of any preordained rhythm, the birth of a new genre is celebrated—an “imaginary documentary” of outer space, a sonic “sci-fi documentary.” From the chaos rises the harmonious song of the flute, and one can sense voices scattered across infinite distances, those raising the final psalm in chorus.

A constant stream of light beams floods the long, gentle tracks of this album—small symphonies and requiems of the universal magma, imbued with deep religiosity.

Zeit (Ohr, 1972), the first album composed by the “classic” trio of Froese, Franke, and Peter Baumann (synthesizer, vibraphone, organ), marked the abandonment of both traditional instruments (in favor of predominantly electronic instrumentation) and rhythm (in favor of a much freer concept of “time”). The work (which also features contributions from Steve Schroeder, Florian Fricke of Popol Vuh, and a string quartet of cellists) presents itself as a symphony in four (monumental) movements. The composition employs minimalist techniques, Ligeti-style continuums, and Stockhausen-like electronic manipulations. The gloomy introduction of Birth Of Liquid Plejades evokes a dodecaphonic string quartet (with no fewer than four cellos), but soon the electronic waves of the two VCS3s (Franke and Baumann) and Froese’s generator rumbles take over.

The title track forgoes pictorial ambition in favor of suggestion, flashes, and intuition, creating subdued and increasingly eerily empty atmospheres, loaded more with mysterious suspense than galactic apotheosis; visions flow in slow motion and reverberate endlessly, simulating the perpetual and solemn motion of nebulae. In this sense, the most exquisite (or at least ethereal) sounds are the metallic noises and subsonic frequencies of Nebulous Dawn, which no longer rely on any musical structure but solely on the spatial arrangement of matter. Origin of Supernatural Probabilities is an even more abstract piece, seemingly existing without producing any significant development. The sound is no longer an end aimed at spectacular conclusions but a simple “texture.” It becomes increasingly syntax and less semantics; increasingly poetry and less narrative.

A single, Ultima Thule, timidly attempted in 1972 to introduce the group to a broader audience.

Atem (Ohr, 1973) is the album in which the use of electronics and improvisation fully matures. The quartet finds the right balance between melodramatic sensationalism and sound control, erasing both the anguish of Meditation and the claustrophobia of Zeit.

Atem (20 minutes), probably their masterpiece, opens with a martial march reminiscent of the mass ceremonies in biblical epics (stentorian drum rhythms, immense choirs, dark organ reverberations); a percussive frenzy sinks into cosmic quiet, made of echoes and signals lost in interstellar darkness; a long finale of slow, mysterious cosmic noises accumulates tension and fear. The majestic symphonic style gives way to a subtler art of suggestion. The sound is now much more fluid and spontaneous, purified of the cumbersome dynamics and exaggerated chromatics that once made it overly "Teutonic."

Fauni-Gena is minor compared to that masterpiece, almost like a soundtrack for Zen meditations. The album is completed by two short compositions: Circulation Of Events and Wahn.

In August 1973, Tangerine Dream (Froese and Franke) recorded Green Desert, but the album will remain unreleased till the 6-LP box-set In the Beginning (1986). The album contains the 20-minute Green Desert, which harks back to their psychedelic roots, and three shorter melodic pieces (White Clouds, Astral Voyager, Indian Summer).

The commercial success, however, was secured by the more straightforward Phaedra (Virgin, 1974), recorded in December 1973, which introduced the driving electronic rhythm destined to become their trademark and thus managed to sell on a large scale the ideas of Alpha Centauri. The Tangerine Dream had become a trio of electronic keyboards, which would remain their classic lineup.

The title suite (17 minutes) recycles, with minimal variations, a polyrhythmic pulse and faint background noises. After twelve minutes, the pulse loses its tonality and the piece enters its most interesting phase (spectral sounds, choir of the dead, galactic hisses). The true masterpiece of the album is perhaps the poignant melody of Mysterious Semblance (10 minutes), worthy of a baroque adagio, which, immersed in dark cosmic winds, slowly changes form without ever losing its identity. The frantic murmurs and cathedral organ of Movements Of A Visionary (eight minutes) continue the exploration of the rhythmic factor and its opposite (the drone). The future career of Tangerine Dream would largely revolve around this counterpoint: between mechanically repeated sounds and sounds left to float statically.

It was at this point that Froese launched his solo career, while continuing to release albums with Franke and Baumann.

Rubycon (1975) continues the impressive progress in production techniques. Tangerine Dream were, in fact, inventing precisely that: a way of producing electronic sound, a method different from how rock or jazz music had been produced. This uninterrupted 35-minute suite is pure chromaticism. Tangerine Dream play musical phrases more or less at random, yet they organize them into a warm, ethereal, and fluid form. The dramatic tension of Zeit no longer exists, because there is no longer a narrative or meditative function. What remains is the idea of atmospheric music performed with electronic instruments. Alongside contemporary experiments by Brian Eno, this is the most striking innovation of 1970s electronic music: “not playing anything” in particular but playing it almost perfectly.

The languid cries of the synthesizers, the electronic waves dissolving into ever-finer tremolos, the evanescences reflected in a myriad of crystalline timbres, and the drumming of sequencers leading into crescendoing dances give rise to a new type of composition. It is neither a symphony, nor a sonata, nor a melodic fantasy, nor a jam; it is a tonal poem freed from all harmonic constraints. Even the abolition of track divisions contributes to the creation of a new genre. Rubycon represents the pinnacle of Tangerine Dream’s figurativism.

The trio had discovered a magical formula and simply continued delivering electronic orchestrations of that type, abandoning the idea of painting apocalyptic scenarios and instead settling on a much more human sense of peace and serenity. Ricochet (Virgin, 1976), recorded live and again structured in two uninterrupted sides, emphasized the melodic aspect—which had still been somewhat blurred in Phaedra and Rubycon—as well as the rhythmic impact (the sequencers are doubled by percussion). The greatest flaw of these scores is that they dilute the few ideas on which they are anchored, yet the ease with which the trio chisels baroque atmospheres is certainly impressive.

The melodic turn is also evident in Stratosfear (Virgin, 1976), the first album to break the series of marathon-length suites. There are four tracks, and the instrumentation once again includes acoustic instruments alongside the electronic behemoths. While the pronounced cadences of the title track align with the approach of Ricochet, the poignant adagio of 3 AM at the Border and the classical, bucolic interlude of The Big Sleep in Search of Shades explore less predictable solutions. Froese sketches a cosmic funk in Invisible Limit, a premonition of grittier sounds to come.

During this period, the group also released singles: one after another came Betrayal/Grind (1976), Stratosfear/The Big Sleep (1976), Encore/Hobo March (1977), and Monolight (1977), consolidating their growing global success and confirming Froese’s peak form.

At that point, Baumann left the group, just in time to avoid the crisis affecting the entire German electronic movement.

Cyclone (Virgin, 1978), featuring multi-instrumentalist Steve Jolliffe and percussionist Klaus Krieger alongside Franke and Froese, saw Froese attempt to reinvigorate the group. For the first time, vocals played a part, and the sound was as lively as possible. Yet it was the instrumental suite, Madrigal Meridian (20 minutes), that truly excelled.

The pronounced grandeur of Force Majeure (Virgin, 1979), achieved by reviving rock instrumentation, has both pros and cons. The title track kicks off at full throttle with a rock rhythm while the guitar stammers out funky breaks before unleashing an ultra-melodic theme shouted at full volume; from there, it becomes a continuous metamorphosis, constantly exploring arrangements, tempos, and instantly catchy hooks. This time, Tangerine Dream decisively returned to a rock-oriented path, echoing the form of Mike Oldfield’s fantasies.

Froese abandoned the celestial suite style he had invented, reverting to straightforward progressive rock. Force Majeure has the merit, however, of concentrating in a single suite as many ideas as had been spread across the previous five years. Conversely, the deafening guitar theme and rhythmic aggressiveness of Thru Metamorphic Rocks come across as cacophonous compared to their earlier repertoire. The humbler Cloudburst Flight would remain a classic in their live performances.

Tangram (Virgin, 1980), which introduced Johannes Schmoelling alongside Froese and Franke, doubled the success of Force Majeure, returning once again to the format of the long two-part suite. In the exuberance of military marches and folk airs in the first part, Froese and Franke achieved another brilliant example of electronic bricolage. Exit (Virgin, 1981), containing six tracks, is a pale imitation of Tangram.

The commercial intent is also evident from the sheer number of singles released (in 1979 Force Majeure, in 1980 Tangram, in 1981 Chronozon, in 1983 Cinnamon Road and Daydream, in 1985 Madchen, in 1987 Dancing On A White Moon, ...). Later came the 12" singles: Dr Destructo (1981), Die Melodie (1982), Warsaw In The Sun (1984), Flashpoint (1984), Streethawk (1985), Dolphin Dance (1987), A Time For Heroes (1987), Tyger (1987), Marakesh (1988), Optical Race (1988), Alexander Square (1989), I Just Want To Rule My Own Life Without You (1991), Dreamtime (1993).

Meanwhile, Froese completely lost his way: first mimicking 1970s prog-rock with White Eagle (Virgin, 1982), which included the long Mojave Plan; then incorporating samples and ethnic folk with Hyperborea (Virgin, 1983), featuring the lengthy Sphinx Lightning; then painting impressionistic vignettes on Le Parc (Jive Electro, 1985); and finally finding a last burst of creativity with Underwater Sunlight (Jive Electro, 1986), the first album to replace Schmoelling with Paul Haslinger, highlighted by Song Of The Whale, followed by the equally respectable Tyger (Jive Electro, 1987), containing Tyger, London, and Alchemy Of The Heart.

During the 1980s, the group turned to film work. The soundtrack for Sorcerer (Virgin, 1977) had launched them in Hollywood. This was followed by: Thief (Virgin, 1980), perhaps the best, in the style of Exit and Force Majeure; Wavelength (Varese Sarabande, 1983); Risky Business (Virgin, 1983), which features the famous Love On A Train; Firestarter (MCA, 1984); Flashpoint (EMI, 1984); Heartbreakers (Virgin, 1985); Legend (MCA, 1986); Near Dark (Silva Screen, 1987); Three O'Clock High (Varese Sarabande, 1987); Shy People (Varese Sarabande, 1987); “The Keep”; “Red Heat”; The Park Is Mine (Silva Screen, 1991); “Forbidden”; “Vision Quest”; Destination Berlin (BMG, 1989); Dead Solid Perfect (Silva Screen, 1990); Man Inside (EMI, 1991); Miracle Mile (Private, 1991); Deadly Care (Silva Screen, 1992); Catch Me If You Can (1994), etc. In 1987, Tangerine Dream released a Grand Canyon video, Canyon Dreams (Miramar, 1991), whose soundtrack was released on CD only in 1991 (though the music is pure kitsch, lacking any real edge).

Also in 1987, Franke left Froese. For Tangerine Dream, it seemed like the beginning of the end. Yet the boom of new age music suddenly revitalized their relevance. It is clear, however, that the Optical Race (Private, 1988) lineup was now essentially just Froese himself, more inconsistent than ever in his output. Lily On The Beach (Private, 1989), which saw the addition of his son Jerome Froese, relied on disco rhythms and catchy choruses, while Melrose (Private, 1990) was a rock album (even featuring a good blues guitar solo in Electric Lion), and Rockoon (Miramar, 1991) ventured fully into techno-rock territory (see Touchwood). By this point, Paul Haslinger had also left Froese to pursue his solo career.

220 Volt (Miramar, 1993), recorded live, also embraces jazz-rock (Oriental Haze, Blue Bridge, Dreamtime, complete with saxophone solos) and Morricone-style motifs (Sundance Kid), but the heart still beats in the pompous techno-rock of 220 Volt and Hamlet.

Turn Of The Tides (Miramar, 1994) exemplifies the new ultra-commercial and conformist direction: eight tracks, neither too short nor too long, essentially consisting of romantically arranging melodic themes. The electronics of Edgar and Jerome serve only as a substitute for a light music orchestra. Cocktail lounge-style themes abound, as in Firetongues (featuring the first flamenco solo) and Midwinter Night, although the strongest emotions come from the lively fanfare of the title track and especially from the moving saxophone requiem in Death Of A Nightingale.
Played and produced impeccably, the album, however, has nothing to do with Tangerine Dream: it is just another background muzak product. At least in this phase, father Froese has handed over the guitar to virtuoso Zlatko Perica, and the saxophone is played by the heartfelt Linda Spa.

On the twentieth anniversary of the group’s founding, an album like Tyranny Of Beauty (Miramar, 1995) could hardly sound more ironic: the themes are even duller, the arrangements predictable as always, and neither the saxophone flourishes of Spa (Little Blond In The Park Of Attractions) nor the guitar of Gerald Gradwohl (still flamenco on Catwalk) nor the clear melody of the title track (the only point of the album) are enough to redeem this lineup.

To market his career to younger generations, Froese did not hesitate to release a collection of remixes of tracks from recent years.

The problem is that Froese tends to use electronic instruments preconfigured in the factory for certain sounds, and those are the sounds heard on every album using those instruments, whereas Franke (at least initially) used synthesizers that could be “tuned” at will, allowing him to produce any kind of sound.

Tangerine Dream were also among the first to transform cosmic music from a studio phenomenon into an arena phenomenon. Their live albums were released at roughly five-year intervals, from Encore (Virgin, 1977), which includes Desert Dream, to Logos (Virgin, 1982), which features simply 45 minutes of improvisation, from Pergamon (Virgin, 1986), which contains only a single track titled Quichotte, to Live Miles (Jive Electro, 1988), from Poland (Jive Electro, 1984), which contains four twenty-minute pieces (Poland, Tangent, Barbakane, Horizon), and finally to 220 Volt (Miramar, 1993).

Edgar Froese began his solo career just as Tangerine Dream had shifted toward a more commercial sound. Aqua (Brain, 1974) was essentially a continuation of that work. Free from the stress of having to compromise with his bandmates, Froese had full freedom to lay down his expansive sheets of electronic sound. The melodic lines that triumphantly cut through the robotic burbles of NGC 891 foreshadow the later Tangerine Dream albums; Panorphelia embodies the atmospheric and meditative electronics of the new age, while the electronic “pond” of the title track is the natural extension of Phaedra, if anything even more ethereal and mannered. It is also the first piece in which Froese blends natural sounds with electronics.

Ambient and new age tones predominated on Ypsilon In Malaysian Pale (Brain, 1975), which contains only two sprawling suites: the title track and Maroubra Bay. In the title track, the fusion of ambient sounds, flute, and electronics achieves suggestive symphonic results.

Another masterpiece of his career is Macula Transfer from the following album, Macula Transfer (Brain, 1976). Metropolis and Tropic Of Capricorn are the highlights of the more conventional Ages (Virgin, 1977). For Stuntman (Virgin, 1979), he wrote curiously surreal pieces such as Scarlet Score For Mescalero, Drunken Mozart in The Desert, Detroit Snackbar Dreamer, and the title track. Pinnacles (Virgin, 1983) contains some of his more linear themes, from Walkabout to The Light Cone, but the long tracks Pinnacles (22 minutes) and Specific Gravity Of Smile (10 minutes) are redundant and overly boring.

Since 1983, Froese devoted himself exclusively to Tangerine Dream, but in 1995 he compiled some new compositions and new recordings of older pieces on the double album Beyond The Storm (Blueplate, 1995).

Electronic Dreams (Virgin, 1979) and Solo 1974-1979 (Virgin, 1980) are anthologies. Kamizake (Virgin, 1982) is a soundtrack.

Chris Franke was in many ways the electronic soul of Tangerine Dream. In fact, he was perhaps the most influential figure in cosmic music, as he was the one who had the idea that would forever change the role of electronics in rock music. However, in his solo career, he did not produce any truly significant works. After leaving Tangerine Dream, it took four years before Pacific Coast Highway (Virgin, 1991) was released—a collection of twelve fairly conventional new age vignettes (melodic cocktail-lounge themes arranged on piano, semi-orchestral counterpoint).

In London Concert (Varese Sarabande, 1992), he instead immersed himself in his legendary synthesizers, moving from the planetarium-style music of Empire Of Light to the tender melody of Purple Waves (his romantic peak). Perhaps his best orchestral achievement remains Universal Soldier (Varese Sarabande, 1992). The two long suites on Klemania (Sonic Images, 1993) seem to attempt a compromise between disco rhythms (Scattered Thoughts Of A Canyon Flight) and cosmic music (Inside The Morphing Space). Franke also composed a great deal of film music, collected in part on New Music For Films (Varese Sarabande, 1993), Raven (Varese Sarabande, 1994), and Babylon 5 (Varese Sarabande, 1995).

The latter, a grandiose symphony, is perhaps his masterpiece. The music draws inspiration from the lavish scores of Vangelis and Jim Steinman to paint a fresco of cosmic cataclysms brimming with suspense in every note (Chrysalis, 18 minutes) and soaring into triumphant apotheoses supported by furious percussion (Parliament of Dreams, 18 minutes). The Geometry of Shadows (15 minutes) has the lively character of a symphonic scherzo within an Italian opera (Rossini, Verdi, Puccini) and contains some of his happiest melodic passages, as well as the dramatic apex of the album.

Enchanting Nature (Sonic Images, 1995) is a collection of piano pieces inspired by an almost Zen-like sensibility. The melodies are simple and graceful, repeating in almost “fractal” patterns, much like the forms found in nature. The sound is exquisitely crystalline. Dancing Over Pools is perhaps the most brilliant, thanks to the counterpoint of a guitar; Malibu Trail is the most intense, Big Sur Romance the most sentimental, and Inside the Cave the most spiritual. When The Sun Loves Trees anticipates the ambient, atmospheric disco music of Robert Miles.

This was followed by The Celestine Prophecy (Priority, 1996), which marks a turn toward world-music stereotypes. Babylon 5 vol 2 continues the journey of his masterpiece.

Peter Baumann joined the lineup of Tangerine Dream at the moment in which Froese and Franke were starting the purely electronic phase. His contribution was probably negligible. After a few records in which he attempted a personal path to electronic pop, he moved to Los Angeles and founded Private Music. Of his albums, the best remains the first, Romance '76 (Virgin, 1976), especially the Meadow Of Infinity with choir and string section of a symphony orchestra. This was followed by Transharmonic Nights (Virgin, 1979), Baumann-Koek (Jaguar, 1979), Repeat Repeat (Virgin, 1981), Strangers In The Night (Virgin, 1983).

Johannes Schmoelling was a member of Tangerine Dream from 1979 until 1985. He then launched a solo career with Wuivend Riet (Erdenklang, 1986), whose piece Matjora Is Still Alive is worthy of his former band. After The Zoo Of Tranquillity (1988) and the film soundtrack White Out (1990), he released a collection of wordless songs, Lieder Ohne Worte (Erdenklang, 1995), inspired by Mendelssohn's piano style (including Spinning Wheel).

He then released: Recycle or Die (2003), Weltmarchen - Weltmusik (2004), Instant City (2006)...

Tangerine Dream's double-disc Ultima Thule (Landmark, 2011) contains rarities, including their first single Ultima Thule.

Froese died in 2015 at the age of 70.