Im Gespräch mit Boris Dlugosch über “Dance To The Music” von Junior Byron (1983).
Hast Du Junior Byrons “Dance To The Music” zum ersten Mal gehört, als Du anfingst ins Front zu gehen?
Ich glaube, ich hatte den Titel zuerst auf einer Front-Cassette, die ich von einem Freund bekommen hatte. Also nicht ‘live’ im Front.
Du warst ja damals noch ziemlich jung. Wie bist Du eigentlich darauf gekommen dort hinzugehen? Hattest Du von Freunden gehört, dass man dort Musik zelebrierte, die Dir gefiel?
Also es war 1984, ich war 16 und die Schwester meines besten Freundes kannte den Kassierer des Front, Boris Breit. Er gab uns Front-Cassetten und hatte zwei Plattenspieler und ein Mischpult. Bei ihm zuhause verbrachten wir dann die Nachmittage nach der Schule und versuchten uns an seinen Plattenspielern und dem Mischpult. Er hatte vor allem Disco-Platten, kaufte aber auch fleißig aktuelleres Zeug bei Tractor-Schallplatten, dem damals besten Laden in Hamburg für Dance-Musik. Er hatte also die Musik, die im Front lief, bei ihm hörte ich die Sachen zuerst und dann wollte ich natürlich unbedingt einmal dorthin. Read the rest of this entry »
“LFO” ist eine dieser Platten, die sich ganzen Generationen ins Gedächtnis gebrannt haben. Was war Dein “erstes Mal” mit dem Track?
An mein erstes Mal mit dem Track kann ich mich gar nicht so genau mehr erinnern, ich war damals 13/14 Jahre alt. Ich bin mir nicht mehr ganz sicher, ob ich es im Radio bei BBC gehört hatte, oder ob ich es quasi nachrecherchiert hatte, weil ich davon gelesen hatte, ich glaube es war im Radio gewesen.
Ich kann mich aber noch sehr gut an das absolut überwältigende Gefühl erinnern das entstand während ich den Track zum ersten Mal hörte. Als Musikliebhaber ist man ja irgendwie immer im Sisyphos-Modus auf der Suche nach dem perfekten Stück Musik, und bei dem Track hatte ich für eine kurze Zeit das Gefühl da ist es! Wie es halt so ist, hielt sich das absolute Gefühl nicht so lange, aber es ist bis heute einer der ganz wenigen Tracks geblieben, der für mich persönlich dem sehr sehr nahe gekommen ist und bis heute immer wieder neu auf die alte Art zu begeistern weiß. Der Hörgenuss war schon ziemlich vollgepackt, denn davon mal abgesehen dass „LFO“ von LFO mit seinem unwiderstehlichen melancholischen Futurismus eine Vielzahl von Gefühlen beim Hören aktiviert, wurde bei dem Track damals als Bonus noch ein Aha-Erlebniss mitgeliefert, denn so etwas hatte man wirklich noch nie vorher in dieser Form und Intensität gehört.
Hattest Du Warp Records damals schon als ein Label auf dem Radar, bei dem sich spannende Entwicklungen anbahnen würden?
Ja unbedingt! Ich war zwar noch kein fanatischer Fan dieses Stils der Bleeps und Clonks, aber Releases wie die Forgemasters “Track With No Name” oder DJ Mink “Hey Hey Can You Relate?” oder auch Nightmares on Wax mit “Dextrous” bzw. “A Case of Funk” haben bei mir schon früh die Kinnlade fallen lassen und zählten zu meinen damaligen Lieblingstracks. Trotzdem passierte damals in so vielen Bereichen elektronischer Club Musik Neues, dass zumindest ich, mit dem Wissen eines 13 Jährigen, das Potenzial des Labels schwer einordnen konnte. Es war eine Zeit, in der ununterbrochen eine revolutionäre Aufbruchstimmung bemerkbar war. Man konnte aber rückblickend schon erkennen das trotz schneller, von der Presse initiierten “Bleeps & Clonks” Hype-Schlagzeilen, etwas mit mehr Substanz als ein Zeitgeisttrend dahinter steckte. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Dave Mothersole on “Techno! The New Dance Sound Of Detroit” (1988).
You wrote in a recent article about the roots of the music played in Goa that you came back to the UK from there and found acid house in full swing. Did that connect with what you heard in India, or was it something else entirely?
It was the very start of acid house. I got back from India in March 1988 – Shoom was still at the fitness centre in Southwark (although I never went) and a month or two later Spectrum opened at Heaven on Monday nights.
It was different from what I’d experienced in India. In some ways it was more tame as people had to go back to work or college or whatever after the weekend or on a Tuesday morning after Spectrum, where as in Goa partying was a full time occupation for most people and therefore more extreme. Goa was like Mad Max with palm trees and techno – almost totally lawless in those days, so nothing compares to it really. I’d been there the previous season (86 / 87) too and I’d come back with all these stories about freaks dancing all night to music that sounded like one long track – like all the best music you’d ever heard with all the crap parts taken out. How it didn’t stop all night and how everyone was freaking out to it on acid and on this new drug called ecstasy. I think my friends back home all thought I was mad, but when acid house came out they were like ‘ok, I get you now’. So I was pleased that they finally knew what I was on about. There were things I didn’t like though, like the MCs. Partying in Goa was like a mystical, very psychedelic experience. Almost a spiritual thing and it was all about getting inside the groove and letting the music take over, so to have some guy shouting ‘hands in the air’ every few minutes as everyone faced in the same direction was a bit distracting. So in that way it was different.
The music was totally different too. The influence of the soul scene (where most of the DJs came from) was very strong so there where a lot of song based tracks with very soulful vocals. The themes were different as well – the famous Martin Luther King speech over Mr Fingers; Ce Ce Rogers ‘Someday’; ‘Promised land’ – these were all Black American themes – songs about the struggle for liberation and freedom. They translated perfectly to multicultural, 80’s England though. Before acid house black and white kids didn’t mix so much on the dance floor, there were exceptions but on the whole the clubs were either separate or divided. Acid house changed all that overnight and these songs, with lyrics about reaching the promised land and living together as one family had a very powerful resonance with the audiences. I think it was a tremendous relief for my generation to finally come together in this way. And this applied not just to the divisions between black and white, but also to class divisions and those that separated the various different youth cults. It was an amazing time – an entire generation taking the same drug at the same time. Listening to the same music, feeling the same emotions. My friends all went from wearing designer clothes and hanging out at the pub to clubbing every weekend in dungarees, purple kickers and long sleeve tops and hoodies with peace signs, smileys and flowers and stuff on them. Some of them even quit their jobs and started throwing parties, selling drugs, DJing – anything they could do that would let them carry on partying. It was a huge change and it happened really fast. By the summer of 88 loads of people were into it and come the summer of 89 it was massive. Huge parties, every club in the country playing house music, office workers out on Friday shouting ‘mental’, mainstream compilation albums full of acid house hits and 10 year old kids dressed like ravers.
Was it like hearing the roots in Goa, and then back in the UK, acid house seemed to be the next step musically?
I wouldn’t say the next step from Goa, as the scene in Goa existed in it’s own little bubble. Culturally, I was very pleased that we were the first country to take the concept of dancing to electronic music on ecstasy, and push it straight into the mainstream. This wasn’t a new concept – people had been doing it throughout the 80’s in Chicago, New York, in Dallas (at the Stark Club), in Ibiza and of course in Goa – but we kind of democratised it. You didn’t have to be a freak in India, a New York club kid or a jet set Ibiza type anymore. You could be an ordinary kid, you know, from pretty much anywhere in the UK. That was really cool.
Musically, house had been popular in England since 85 / 86. ‘Jack Your Body’ was number one in the pop charts in 86 for example, and ‘Love Can’t Turn Around’ was top five in the same year. So I was already familiar with house music and indeed it’s roots as I’d been into the soul scene before and had grown up dancing to records like D-Train’s ‘You’re The One For Me’, ‘Beat The Street’ by Sharon Redd and Sinnamon’s ‘Thanks To You’. And then the whole electro thing hit big in England, so yeah, it was the next step musically for sure, but it was ecstasy that made it explode in the way it did. Much as I was familiar with it though, house music could still be shocking. I remember standing in the queue outside Spectrum for the first time and hearing this thunderous acid track booming out of the club and thinking ‘fuck me, this music is dark’.
On the whole though, the music in Goa was far more foreign to me. I lived in Italy as a boy and went on holiday there most summers right up until I went to India, so I was familiar with italo disco, but that was my only reference point. That an a few Front 242, Yello and Nitzer Ebb records my brother had. It might sound strange but until acid house broke, European club music was very rare at parties in England. After acid house that all changed, first with stuff like A Split Second and Code 61, then later with all the R&S and Music Man stuff and after that the Frankfurt stuff and whatever. Pre acid house though, only a few gay clubs played euro beat (as we called it) so hearing it in Goa – particularly in the psychedelic way they played it there – was a complete revelation to me. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Ken Vulsion on “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division (1980).
How did you first come across “Love Will Tear Us Apart”? Was it love at first sight the time it was originally released, or did you get to know it later on?
I grew up in a sleepy part of New York State. There was little access to new, alternative music there in the 80’s. Every Tuesday there was a New Wave radio show on the Ithaca College radio station, the DJ was Mike Weidner. He played “Love Will Tear Us Apart” on that show, which I recorded to cassette. This would have been in 1981 or 82. It was love at first listen.
The song is generally considered to be one of the best songs ever written. Did you have the notion that this song is exceptional, or was it just another song you liked very much?
It is exceptional. The newness and truth has never faded.
It seems that a lot of people attach very personal feelings to “Love Will Tear Us Apart”? Is it the same with you? Does the song offer more ties with the listener than others?
I was 18 and in a doomed love affair at the time, so it is full of associations – though I can now enjoy it as a perfect pop object, without feeling heart torn.
Would you say that “Love Will Tear Us Apart” is a perfect pop song in terms of composition? Is the music just catchy or does it also have other, maybe even more significant qualitities?
I think at its core there is a perfect piece of pop craft. But it is the execution that it is so unique. Just compare the original to Paul Young’s version (which I also like for my own perverse reasons!).
What place does “Love Will Tear Us Apart” hold in the works of Joy Division? Was it the exception to the rule or a logical consequence?
Certainly a standout, though I certainly have new favourites. When Anton Corbijn’s film “Control” came out I got really into Joy Division again, such a great little film. The same when “24 Hour Party People” came out, there were some songs that really stood out (another great pop music movie!!).
Would you like more music to sound this complex, meaning that a song can be sad, beautiful and wonderful at the same time?
Yes!
Of course it is absolutely not possible to separate the song from Ian Curtis. A lot of the fascination of “Love Will Tear Us Apart” lies within his personality, and the way he sings about these very intimate problems affecting his life. Yet it seems other of his lyrics are hinting more at the trouble he was really going through than these. How much of the song’s power actually stems from listeners relating to this analysis of a dysfunctional relationship, and how much stems from the legend surrounding his early death? Or is it both?
I wasn’t aware of Joy Division until after Ian’s death. Some of the lyrics (i.e. ‘were my failings exposed’) got into my head because of my own confusion in dealing with a first, difficult love and suicidal feelings. Ian’s own suicide amplifies every word.
Do you think that the song’s lyrics contain more hints at other of his problems than the description of his disintegrating marriage? Or are such interpretations just the consequence of his early death?
Some of his biography was unknown to me then (his struggle with epilepsy). Back then I was into the song, but not a “fan”….I didn’t own a Joy Division t-shirt.
A lot of Joy Divison’s legacy seems to based on him being handsome and charismatic, his distinctive voice and of course his actual suicide. Thus he became his generation’s prime example of the tortured artist. Is this unfairly neglecting his true abilities as an artist? And is his status just based on the fact that he died, or is there more to it? Was he as gifted as he was tragic?
I think the work holds up regardless, same with Kurt Cobain or River Phoenix. The ‘twice as bright’ flame club.
I always felt that “Love Will Tear Us Apart” is already part New Order part Joy Division, even if at the time it was written there was of course only Joy Division. Do you think the band could have made a change of direction musically towards a less darker sound if Ian Curtis would have lived on, or was the sound of Joy Divison always dependent on its singer’s condition?
The sound lived on and evolved. “Your Silent Face” by New Order is an interesting bookend to “Love Will Tear Us Apart” Softer vocal, sleeker production, but still that raw sad emotion.
I always found it very impressive how the rest of the band decided to carry on without him. At first they still clinged to the previous band but then they really re-invented themselves. Did you feel they had the potential to achieve this around the time it became clear that they would not stop?
New Order existed by the time I first heard “Love Will Tear Us Apart” so that timeline doesn’t exist for me. I may have bought the Arthur Baker version of “Confusion” before the 7″ of “Love Will Tear Us Apart”.
Tony Wilson, the head of Factory Records, was at first very concerned that Bernard Sumner would take up the part of the singer. But then he managed to develop a performer persona of his own, and the band did so, too. Do you think this was out of defiance, or was it out of trust in their own abilities? Or did it just evolve?
At the time I was singing lead vocals in a few bands (Identity Confusion and XOX were two of them LOL). I had an almost distorted confidence. I was shy, but defiant enough to get up in front of a small town crowd in leather jeans. Defiance can be a great motivator.
Since then, both Joy Division and New Order built up a legendary status in music history. Do you think their legacy can be told apart, or are they one and the same in the pop music’s canon by now, just with different phases?
Since everything happened so fast, the bands will always be connected.
Apparently Joy Division underwent a severe crisis due to Curtis’ condition. Do you think it could have happened that the others would have continued without him anyway?
Hard to say. Crisis is part of the band dynamic usually.
Are their elements of New Order that still owe to Joy Division, apart from being the succeeding band?
Maybe they were able to use the death as an opportunity to shift into a new direction.
On the other hand, would Ian Curtis have done a seminal track like “Blue Monday”?
I wonder if he was much into dance music. He was a very interesting dancer.
If “Love Will Tear Us Apart” is the timeless classic in Joy Division’s back catalogue, what would be New Order’s?
For sure “Blue Monday”. It’s perfection. And the record is a perfect object, just like “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. The sleeve designs by Peter Saville are sublime. He was as much a rock star to me back then as Ian.
Do you think it would be possible that another band would write a song similar to “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, and it would become as lasting, or will this history not repeat itself?
I live for new music that affects me as much. So, yes!
In discussion with Johnny Dynell on “Jam Hot” by Johnny Dynell and New York 88 (1983).
In 1980 you started your DJing career in New York’s seminal Mudd Club and then you played every club important to the downtown scene in the following years. Is “Jam Hot” the sum of what you experienced as a DJ?
The opposite, actually – “Jam Hot” was very near the BEGINNING of my DJ career.
Would you say that some clubs you played at were more relevant for the sound of “Jam Hot” than others?
Danceteria is where “Jam Hot” was born and I DJed there but it was really all the discos and latin clubs like La Escuelita and G.G. Barnum’s that inspired me. In fact, on the back cover of “Jam Hot” is a picture of my beautiful wife Chi Chi sitting in the famous swing at G.G. Barnum’s. Read the rest of this entry »
You once told me that you were raised on jazz fusion.
I was. That was the kind of music of my early and mid-teenage years. In those days that was grown people’s music, it was very sophisticated. If you wanted to feel cool and grown up and everything, you were into Weather Report and Chick Corea. Lenny White, who drummed for Chick Corea’s band Return to Forever, was one of my all-time favorites. This song, “River People,” was from Mr. Gone and Mojo used to play it every night. He really made a hit out of a track.
Would you say that Mojo kind of planted a seed in some techno heads with this music?
I would say so. Mojo, for the black community, was it. And this was in the pre hip-hop days where black people listened to everything in Detroit when I was growing up. It was that open atmosphere that allowed Detroit techno to form I think. And Mojo was definitely ground zero for the black community. I mean this guy would play The Isley Brothers, Prince, Alice Cooper, Weather Report. He was the first DJ to play B-52s in Detroit. He broke a lot of music to the black community that we would have never heard.
What was the main inspiration of the things that Mojo played for the first wave of techno producers in Detroit?
I would say the real ground zero for this music was Kraftwerk. Which Mojo also used to play. I was in high school—I’m really dating myself [laughs]—and they released “Man Machine” and “Numbers” back-to-back in America. In Europe, there was a gap, but in America they released those two records almost at the same time. That made a really big impact.
I played this because I wondered if there is some kind of connection between a lot of Detroit techno records and jazz. Juan, of course, said “Jazz is the teacher” at one point, and there are a lot of harmonies in Detroit techno that are pretty jazzy, really complex. I was wondering if Weather Report was the source for this connection.
I think it’s a source, but not the source. I think that Detroit techno came from a lot of different influences. You have to remember that, at the same time, Parliament/Funkadelic were big. So you had a lot of futuristic connections with those guys; Mothership Connection was a big thing. Detroit was a huge melting pot. If you look back, it’s pretty incredible. Everything now is just so market-tested.
Nitzer Ebb – Join In The Chant (Mute, 1987)
That was a classic. There used to be a club named Todd’s in Detroit. It was the big new wave punk rock bar in the ’80s. The main DJ was Charles English, and he had the new stuff all the time. When I was in college we used to go every Thursday. He broke that out, and that was it. I was like, “Wow, who are these cats?”
Later, I was hanging out with Derrick May over at his place. Derrick had just gotten back from London, and he was a pop star. I was doing a radio show at the time and he gave me the double pack, saying “Hey man, take this and play it tonight.” He was in with Mute, and they were giving him everything. I still play it out today, the original version.
I don’t know how much influence it had on Detroit techno, but back in those days we were listening to everything. So when Nitzer Ebb came down the pike, it was like, “Oh, that’s really good.” There was a radio show called Brave New Waves out of Canada on the CBC and we used to hear them play Nitzer Ebb.
This track is from 1987, when you began your own radio show, Fast Forward on WDET. That was a really important year for you.
Yes. I had done the artwork for Derrick [May]’s “Nude Photo,” got my radio show. The night of my first broadcast, I went over to Derrick’s place, and he gave me all these records. He said, “Play these.” All of these records are what turned out to be the first techno records, a bunch of white labels. I was playing Detroit techno, what was then industrial and EBM, jazz fusion, a little hip-hop. WBLS, Brave New Waves, Mojo; those guys were my influences. I would go to see Charles play on a Thursday night at Todd’s and buy those records and play them on Friday night on my show.
How did you get the show?
Well, I was an intern at the station the summer before. I was putting the records in order. I started talking to the program director, and told her how much I was into Lenny White. She was like, “You know who Lenny White is?” I was super young compared to her at the time. So I said, “Yeah, one of the greatest fusion drummers to walk the Earth. Lenny White, Tony Williams.” She was impressed, and she asked if I had a demo tape. Fusion jazz got me the job, so that’s why I kept playing it. It was a whole mish-mash of genres, though.
Were the listeners appreciating that, or did you get criticism for being so eclectic?
I was on super late. It was from 3 AM to 6 AM. The graveyard shift. People dug it, they dug it right away. I’ll never forget playing “Acid Tracks” from Phuture, and some guy called me on the phone and was going insane. “What is this called? What kind of music is this?” It was the early days of electronic music, so nobody knew anything.
In those pre-internet days, doing research wasn’t easy.
Luckily, I worked at radio stations. So they had all of these libraries where you could go in and listen to whatever you wanted. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Parker on “Boomerang” by The Creatures (1989).
Is your fascination with The Creatures tied to this album, or does it go back to the band’s origins? When did you first hear their music?
I was a fan of the Banshees from the beginning. There were only two Creatures albums and one EP during the twenty years of the Banshees. So they were special events and had a subtly different musical personality to the parent group. „Boomerang“ is the second Creatures album after a six year interval so I was very excited to hear how they would follow “Feast”.
Siouxsie Sioux and the drummer Budgie once conceived The Creatures as a side project from their activities with Siouxsie & The Banshees, but they regularly came back to it over the years. Originally the concept was to record music consisting just of her voice and his drums, which certainly still is the backbone of „Boomerang“, too.
At the time of the Creatures first EP (“Wild Things”, 1981) the idea of a pop record getting into the charts that was made purely with percussion and voice, was quite daring, innovative and very exciting. „Boomerang“ stays true to the original idea but takes it much further with lots of marimba and steel drums and some brass stabs every so often.
Im Gespräch mit Carlos de Brito über “Pressin’ On” von Hidden Agenda (1995).
Wie bist Du auf Hidden Agenda gestoßen? Eine Erstbegnung in der goldenen Ära von Drum ‚n’ Bass?
Es war definitiv die goldene Ära von Drum ‘n’ Bass. Wahrscheinlich bin ich im Dortmunder Plattenladen Entity auf sie gestoßen. Alternativ kann es auch Oliver von Felberts Drum ‘n’ Bass-Kolumne Wildstyle in der Spex gewesen sein. “The Flute Tune” war jedenfalls die Erstbegegnung.
Warum hast Du Dir “Pressin’ On” ausgesucht? Was macht den Track so wichtig für dich? Was ist sein musikalischer Reiz?
Ich hab relativ lange überlegt, welcher Song/Track in ein Format passt, in dem es um Musik geht, die einem viel bedeutet, die sich tief in die persönliche musikalische DNA eingefräst hat. Songs von Wham!, Gang Starr, A Tribe Called Quest, Sonic Youth, Aphex Twin, Moodymann, Theo Parrish und ein paar andere Großmeister standen zur Auswahl, aber dann bin ich bei meiner internen Inventur über diesen Track gestolpert.
Er steht für den Anfang eines Zeitraums von ca. 5-6 Jahren, in dem ich viel Drum ‘n’ Bass gehört habe. Eine Zeit, die übrigens zusammen mit jener fiel, wo sich viele in meinem Umfeld,am Ende der Schulzeit, bewusst/unbewusst entschieden haben, ob man sich weiterhin für neue Musikstile öffnet oder nicht.
Ich erwähne das deshalb, weil mein damaliger Kumpel Rui Fernandes (mit der Kölner Interference Crew nach wie vor in Sachen Drum ‘n’ Bass aktiv) und ich mit unserer Vorliebe für solche Musik in unserer, ähem… peer group auf uns allein gestellt waren. Indie und Grunge waren noch alle mitgegangen, Hip Hop größtenteils auch, bei Mo’Wax und Warp trennte sich schon der Aguardente vom Trester, bei Drum ‘n’ Bass hieß es meist nur noch: “Alter, geh’ mir wech mit dem Scheiß!”
Insofern mussten wir beide alleine ausbaldowern, ob die Platte nun auf 33 oder 45 Umdrehungen abgespielt werden sollte. Der Moment, als ich nach Tagen (oder Wochen?) endlich geschnallt hatte, dass “Pressin’ On” tatsächlich auf 45 Umdrehungen gedacht war und hektisch zum Telefon gerannt bin, um Rui diesen Heureka-Moment zu übermitteln…! Das prägt. Wie bei “Verstehen Sie Spaß?”: Einerseits glücklich, die versteckte Kamera entdeckt zu haben, andererseits tief beschämt, so hinters Licht führt worden zu sein! Ich bin froh, kürzlich erst erfahren zu haben, dass beispielsweise auch Leute wie Martyn – wie er kürzlich bei seiner Lecture im Rahmen der Red Bull Music Academy in Lissabon erklärte – ähnliche Erlebnisse hatten.
Wahrscheinlich habe ich deshalb “Pressin’ On” ausgewählt. Davon abgesehen ist das nach wie vor ein Knaller.
Im Gespräch mit Peter Kruder über “Wish You Were Here” von Pink Floyd (1975).
Kannst Du Dich noch daran erinnern, wie Du auf Pink Floyd gestoßen bist? War das noch in Deiner Jugend?
Ich war gerade mal 11 Jahre alt als mein Bruder, der damals für Bang & Olufsen im Service gearbeitet hat, mit einer neu erstandenen B&O-Anlage nach Hause kam. Als das Ding aufgebaut war, zog er eine in schwarzes Plastik gehüllte Platte aus einer Einkaufstüte, schlitzte vorsichtig die Plastikhülle auf und legte die Platte auf den Teller. Die B&O-Anlagen damals hatten keine ordinären Drehregler, sondern in Glas gefasste elegante Schieberegler, und den Volumenregler auf ein angemessenes Level geschoben schwebte mir dieser G-Moll-Akkord aus den Boxen entgegen und ich war von der ersten Sekunde an auf einen anderen Planeten transportiert.
Die blubbernden Synths im Hintergrund und die zarte Moog-Melodie, die nichts sagt außer dass sie einen noch mehr hineinzieht, waren mir damals total unerklärlich und ich war gefangen vor Aufregung über was auch immer als Nächstes kommen würde. Das Vier-Noten-Motiv der Gitarre war für mich dann der endgültige Beweis, dass ich mich in einem neuen Stadium meiner persönlichen Entwicklung befand und von da an gab es nur mehr Pre-Floyd und Post-Floyd in meinem musikalischen Universum.
Pink Floyd hatten einige wegweisende Alben vorzuweisen. Warum hast Du Dir “Wish You Were Here” ausgesucht? Was macht das Album so wichtig für dich?
Ich war natürlich total angefixt von dem Floyd-Sound, sodass ich mich dann sofort auf die Suche nach mehr begab. Das Taschengeld damals reichte nicht für mehr als ein Album alle vier Monate und wurde mehr in Singles investiert, meine Schulfreunde damals waren mehr bei Abba als bei Floyd. Ich hatte in meiner Schule zwei ausgezeichnete Professorinnen im Englischunterricht, beide aktive 68erinnen, die eine Unterrichtsstunde nutzten, um uns Pink Floyds „The Wall“ vorzuspielen. Da war er wieder, dieser Sound, diesmal mit mehr Text, und ich lief nach dem Unterricht nach Hause, köpfte das Sparschwein und ab in den Plattenladen. The Wall verließ die nächsten fünf Monate nicht mehr den Plattenteller und wöchentlich wurde eine andere Seite favorisiert. Ich war damals unsäglich schlecht in Englisch und verstand kein Wort, was mich nach einiger Zeit zum Wörterbuch greifen ließ um mir die auf den Hüllen gedruckten Lyrics Wort für Wort zu übersetzen. Am Ende des Jahres hatte ich eine Zwei in Englisch und wurde speziell für meinen drastischen Fortschritt im Unterricht gelobt. Von daher gesehen ist „The Wall“ für mich auch eine wichtige Floyd-Platte. Dass die Lyrics eigentlich schrecklich sind und als öffentlichen Therapiecouchplatz von Roger Waters missbraucht wurden, kam mir erst viele Jahre später und deswegen ist „Wish You Were Here“ auch meine bevorzugte Platte im Floyd-Schaffen.
Das Album ist ja schon mit seinem sehr durchdachten Fluss darauf angelegt, dass man es als Ganzes hören sollte. Ist das die beste Art das Album zu hören, oder gibt es persönliche Highlights oder auch Aussetzer? Überstrahlt “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” die anderen Songs?
Diese Platte prägte für mich das Verständnis, dass ein Album durchgehend gehört werden sollte, oder vielmehr dass ein Album so gut sein muss, dass man es von Anfang bis zum Ende hören will. Der Fluss, der durch das Weglassen der üblichen Pausen zwischen den Songs entsteht, will gut überlegt sein und wie in diesem Falle mit genauester Präzision ausgeführt werden. Ganz im Gegensatz zu Jimi Hendrix, der das auch machte, aber die pausenlose Aneinanderreihung mit acidgetränkten Akzenten durchführte, wobei das genau so beeindruckend ist. “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”ist natürlich die Perle des Albums und ich finde es auch entgegen gesetzter Meinungen gut, dass es auf die beiden Seiten der Platte verteilt ist. Es gibt der Platte Bookends, wie man es im Englischen nennt, und das fordert das Wollen nach mehrmaligem Hören.
Wie würdest Du die Musik von Pink Floyd auf “Wish You Were Here” beschreiben? Ist etwa die Band hier noch in den psychedelischen Anfangstagen verwurzelt, oder ist das schon eine ganz neue stilistische Ebene? Welche maßgeblichen Elemente machen das Album aus?
Für mich liegt die Größe der Platte in dem, dass keine Note zu viel ist und jeder auch noch so kleine Sound an seinem exakt richtigen Platz sitzt. Die musikalische Darbietung ist in diesem Sinne ohne jegliches Fett und zeigt, dass sie hier die Meister ihres eigenen Genres wurden. Wo „Dark Side Of The Moon“ noch überladen ist mit Showoff-Effekten, ist hier nur mehr Dienliches am Start. Es ist auch die Balance zwischen den trippigen Undergroundsounds der Anfangstage und breiten Melodien so geschickt getroffen, dass es allgemein verständlich ist, ohne sich dem Kommerz hinzugeben. Ein interessanter Aspekt ist für mich auch, dass die Brüche in der Gestaltung nicht als aufzeigende Maßnahmen gesetzt wurden, sondern mehr um den Fluss zu beschleunigen oder zu entschleunigen. Aber ich fand es immer schon eleganter, den Hörer durch sublime aber zwingende Elemente in deine Ecke zu ziehen, als sie mit dem Prügel über den Kopf dahin zu zwingen.
Wie verhält sich “Wish You Were Here” zu “Dark Side Of The Moon”, dem ungleich erfolgreicheren Vorgängeralbum? Ist es eine logische Fortführung? Ist es eine Emanzipation, bzw. ein Fortschritt?
Ich sehe es als absoluten Fortschritt, mit einer zurückgenommen Effektivität letztendlich noch mehr zu erzielen. Nicht das „Dark Side Of The Moon“ eine schlechte Platte wäre, aber im Gesamten ist sie bei weitem nicht so in sich stimmig wie „Wish You Were Here“. Bei „Dark Side Of The Moon“ haben sie die Grenzen des Machbaren mehr als die der eigenen Entwicklungsfähigkeit gesucht, waren aber mit dem Glück beseelt, dass das genau zu der Zeit gefragt war.
Gemeinhin wird die Geschichte von Pink Floyd in mehrere Phasen eingeteilt, und “Wish You Were Here” markiert die Phase, in der sie ihren Status als eine der größten Rockbands konsolidieren konnten. Magst Du auch die früheren und späteren Arbeiten der Band? Es gibt ja beispielsweise nicht wenige Anhänger, die alles nach Syd Barrett weniger schätzen, und umgekehrt.
Arnold Layne und diese Art des Musikmachens hat eine zeitbezogene Wichtigkeit. Bei mir verhält es sich da wie mit dem frühen Bob Dylan-Katalog. Ich verstehe und respektiere die immense Wichtigkeit, zu einem Zeitpunkt genau das laut auszusprechen was sich eigentlich alle denken, aber es verliert für mich durch die Akzeptanz der Veränderungen im Nachhinein die Aussagekraft. Im Frühwerk mit Syd Barrett ging es darum avantgardistische Musikformen mit Rock zu verbinden. Es lag damals in der Luft und die Floyd-Urbesetzung hat das auf den Punkt gebracht, nicht zu vergessen ist der visuelle Aspekt ihrer damaligen Liveshow.
In discussion with Justin Strauss on “Computer World” by Kraftwerk (1981).
Can you still remember the first time you ever heard Kraftwerk?
Yes. I think the first time I heard them I was 17 years old, in England, recording an album for Island Records with the band I was in at the time, Milk n Cookies. I heard the song “Autobahn” on the radio there and remember thinking how different and cool it sounded than anything else out there. I bought a copy of the 7″ while I was there.
What made you decide for “Computer World” out of the many legendary albums? Do you agree with many critics and fans that they were at there creative peak with this?
Although I love all their albums, “Computer World” for me was just the best. Perfect in every way. I totally agree that this was their “masterpiece”.
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