Invited to contribute an exhibit to the internationally-renowned art fair Art Cologne 2013, Wolfgang Voigt's and his label Kompakt designed a sound installation for the entrance hall. For this, Voigt created what could be described as automated, abstract, minimal "machine music" - but with a twist: every sound was produced manually through his improvisation on industrial sequencers and computer programmes.

The latest release of the artist perhaps better known as Gas, Zukunft Ohne Menschen, (i.e. Future Without Humans), is more than just a recording based on the prior installation; it is a multimedia concept in ten parts, composed of music, videos and digital painting. The audio component of the record is repetitive beyond belief. But like all good minimalist music, it evolves gradually, almost indiscernibly as the listener progresses. It is an acquired taste. It seems almost frankly too obvious to say that Voigt has been influenced by Kraftwerk, just as almost every electronic musician of his generation no doubt has been. However, most notably here Voigt recaptures that spirit of the initial inspiration; as if his teenage self has just bought a second-hand Moog and is messing around in his bedroom for fun, recreating those classic synth sounds for hours on end without noticing the time fly.

Each track is labelled in a computer-style logical fashion: 'Z.O.M.1.1' and so on. It is somewhat surprising that Voigt has bothered to divide the tracks at all on Zukunft Ohne Menschen, when they could have worked equally as well as one extensive piece of music. Around about 'Z.O.M.1.4' the pace picks up frantically and the thought of Voigt's digits moving that fast boggles the mind. 'Z.O.M.1.5.' on the other hand, starts off cheery but evolves into something much more tentative and sinister, conveying to the listener the uneasy feeling of creeping around an abandoned, human-less landscape. 'Z.O.M.1.6' has a strong sense of urgency; we are unaware just where we're headed, but we're hurtling there scattily and erratically.

The vibe changes from the seventh track onwards. Whereas before each track is very mechanical-sounding in an almost menacing manner, the following half of Zukunft Ohne Menschen appears considerably calmer, almost innocent. Tracks seven and eight use notes that when strung together as a nonsensical melody recall twingy twangy childhood music boxes, where the handle is turned ever so slowly so that you have to piece the tune together in your mind. 'Z.O.M.1.9' is back to the dark side once again. We hear the tension build, the sonic equivalent of detectives in pursuit of a fugitive.

The final track is easier on the ears. Voigt employs musical patterns us poor humans recognise, and more importantly, enjoy. Music is the combination of feeling and intelligence. I believe Voigt has deliberately ignored the human side of his musical brain when producing this album. Whilst technically impressive and relatively progressive, by forsaking the innate characteristics which make music likeable and therefore "sound good", by forgetting his own clear natural taste and aptitude for selecting these qualities, the record ends up being rather inaccessible. Naturally, this is an intended aim: why make a record for the people and dedicate it to a future without them?

Wolfgang Voigt's playing is surely virtuoso, and his vision is grand. Zukunft Ohne Menschen is but a limited edition of 500 copies, each complete with a photo booklet of Voigt's digital paintings, in which he has erased any figures from the urban landscape, replacing them with colourful smears. The record is not meant to be a crowd-pleaser, neither is Voigt. Zukunft Ohne Menschen is a work of art, there to push the boundaries, not to be liked.