Wenn der Zündfunk auf Bayern 2 auch außerhalb des Netzes zum Zuendfunk gemacht wird, dann werde ich zum Totalrundfunkverweigerer (TV-Verweigerer bin ich schon) und melde alle meine Radios ab. Meine Liebe zur Musik wurde vom Zündfunk Mitte der 80er maßgeblich angefacht. Der bärbeißig-brummige Carl-Ludwig Reichert, Till Obermaier, Karl Bruckmaier, Ingeborg Schober, Sabine Gietzelt, Judith Schnaubelt (the velvet voice from the radio waves) und viele andere, deren Namen mir gerade nicht einfallen wollen. Sie haben mir das große Universum der Musik, die man nicht überall hört, eröffnet. Bitte rettet den Zündfunk! Und unterschreibt die Petition!

Extremely sad and totally unexpected: Grant McLennan, frontman of the Go-Betweens died in his sleep yesterday (ILM thread). He was only 48 years old. No way can I listen to Streets of Your Town without tears in my eyes today.

P.S. Another ILM thread on favourite Grant McLennan songs. A longer post in commemoration over at vain, selfish & lazy.

Arthur Schopenhauer: Die Kunst, Recht zu behalten. Eristische Dialektik.

Im Pissoir im Cooky's gestern abend. Die Ohren dröhnen vom Gitarrenlärm, wenn man die Tür aufmacht. Drinnen am Anfang völlige Stille. Nach ein paar Sekunden plötzlich so seltsame leise Geräusche. Was spielen die denn jetzt da draußen? Hat sich The Wedding Present plötzlich in ein Violinquartett verwandelt? Dann die späte Erleuchtung. Aus den Klolautsprechern tropft klassische Musik der dezenten Sorte. Eigentlich schade. Die Idee hätte mir gefallen.

The Wedding Present gig in the Cooky's was fine. Much better than I had imagined beforehand. I only saw them once in the warehouseish Terminal Export in Nancy around 1993 and the sound wasn't too good. This time it was probably even louder because of the tininess of the place, a night club cellar close to the Hauptwache in the heart of Frankfurt. Where they apparently already had played in 1985 as a totally plastered fiftysomething Brit with short grey hair told me. TWP were the band he had seen most in Frankfurt, five times or something. I was at the bar about three meters away from the lead guitarist and five meters from Gedge. Whose vocals I could understand most of the time. They played at least three songs from their chef d'œuvre Seamonsters, I remember Corduroy, the brilliant Dalliance which builds up from a gentle dreamy tune to devilish guitar noise and the closer Octopussy (no encores of course). Gedge was strumming his life away on his guitar. Most of the songs I didn't know were slower and kind of folkrockish. Gedge in songwriter mode. Not bad but not thrilling either. Probably from more recent albums I don't know. When Apple Pie came on the above mentioned Brit in exile who had been shouting incomprehensible song wishes or whatever in between the songs obviously had to join the dance stage. The audience was rather old altogether. Hardly any twentysomethings, on average it looked older than the band.

What is a summer album? An album you listened to mainly in summer or which you listened to first in summer? An album which transports a kind of summer feeling? But what does that mean? What is heat, what is sun, what is light in music? New Order is summer, Joy Division is winter? An album which was released or recorded in summer? An album with song lyrics about summer? Is Yo La Tengo's The Heart is Beating As One a summer album? Released in late April 1997, I purchased it mid May. When a good friend had killed himself and I had to move on. It was a hot summer in 1997. Catherine and I saw Yo La Tengo in Berlin at the Knaack Club in Prenzlauer Berg. Maybe the best concert I have ever been to in my life. A crowded place, the sweat pearls were rolling down my front, Ira was doing the Hendrix on guitar. Intense. He sweated himself but he didn't care.

Georgia: Shadows James: Stockhom Syndrome Ira: Autumn Sweater

One of the most amazing song triplets ever. There is a progression from winter depression towards summer lightness. All songs are sad but you can dance to the last. Which maybe is the best. Very hard to imagine if you have heard the first two. Which are as tender and fragile as a white petal of an apple tree in May. Autumn Sweater is the end of summer. The fruit. It didn't need the remix. What a sad and beautiful world. Without the sadness it wouldn't be so beautiful.

mit den kommentaren in weblogs ist es ein verdammichtes kreuz. wenn man in seinem eigenen keine kriegt wird man deprimiert. wenn man sie kriegt sind sie oft erbärmlich. wenn man bei anderen welche gibt, dann gibt es oft keine response. oder man schmeisst seinen kommentar gleich auf den müll weil man den ursprünglichen weblogeintrag nicht toppen will, der oft so schwach ist, dass einem die worte fehlen sollten. kommentare sollten kommunikation darstellen. klappt bei mir nicht. vielleicht bin ich kommunikationsuntauglich. and i have tried so hard. bei sechs milliarden menschen kann das eigentlich alles nicht stimmen. vielleicht ist blogging nicht mein medium. nee. bestimmt ist das so. webloggen ist ein irrweg, sicher.

The first time I had olives was in Athens in 1982. It was a plate full of 30 or something black olives. The person who offered them to me was Greek and he told me that they were really good. I had to finish the plate otherwise I would have offended him. Somehow I managed the feat. And was the illest I have ever been in all my life. I vomitted all night long but it didn't help. There was something like a stone in my stomach which was impossible to get rid of. Body fluids in greenish colours were ejected from my mouth but the stone remained inside. After that I was allergic to black olives for a while. Ten years, 15 years? Just the thought of eating them was revolting.

Nowadays I can eat black olives. But I like to mix them with green ones. The black olives on their own still feel heavy but together with the more acid green specimen and lots of garlic I can digest them. I love olives now. Hate-love which has turned into love. It's the blend that makes it all.

My love of dub. Which I never developped any further. I only have one album in my collection. On ILM someone made fun of it *). Apparently it is not the best dub album. Maybe the most popular, the easiest, the most obvious but just an album scratching on the surface. Not the real thing. Missing in the roots department. That's how the message came over to me at least. I dunno. The huge bass sound. The dizzyness created by the reverb. The minimising of beats per minute without losing THE BEAT. The coolness, the relaxedness, the late dark night feeling. That sort of music works more on the body than what I usually listen to. An antidote to cerebral, more fragile stuff. Has to be listened to aloud. On big speakers. Here is the first track from the album I am talking about. It's the music of god, isn't it? A god who doesn't know how to make dub music cannot be my god. ;-)

*) On rereading the post I realise that I am definitely over-sensitive when it comes to my fave music

Friday night I will be in the Cooky's. David Gedge and his good old band The Wedding Present will be there. They have reformed after that rather unsuccessful Cinerama interlude. For the first time after ten years or so I listened to Hitparade 1 with the six January to June singles from 1992. They still sound terrific. His deep throaty voice, those noisy guitars, the straightforward songwriting. Indie rock'n'roll from Leeds in the vein of Velvet Underground with a dash of The Buzzcocks and The Fall.