German Joys

Can Live Session Free For Download

Over at Aquarium Drunkard, there's a download available of a 1975 concert by CAN about which they make the following remarks:

There are those among us who will shudder when I say this, but let’s face facts: Can was a jam band. Indeed, jamming was at the heart of pretty much everything the legendary krautrockers did. Rather than a group centered around a songwriter, Can was a collective of improvisers whose primary modus operandi in the studio was — not unlike Miles Davis’ and Teo Macero’s approach in the 1970s — to play freely as the tape rolled, and then, later, edit the best bits together. This mix of spontaneous interplay and after-the-fact composition is one of the keys to the success of their well-nigh unparalleled run of LPs form the late 60s to the mid 70s.

Heino's Hideous Handicap

Rumors have circulated about Heino, the German pop star whom Lonely Planet once immortally dubbed a 'tranquilized albino Ken doll', for many a year. The reason? He is never seen in public without dark sunglasses. Some say it's because his eyes are an eerie reddish rat-eye color, or because he's abnormally photosensitive, or because he's German. But I believe this album cover, found at a blog post called Worst Album Covers of All Time, has solved the mystery:

Heino, the albino baker's apprentice turned German Schlager legend, has strabismus, also known as heterotropia! Now personally, I can't see why this should have driven the man to don dark glasses. I happen to find strabismus extremely attractive in women (please lift the restraining order, Condi! I've learned my lesson!). But I suppose EMI Germany's crack mid-70s market research gurus soon concluded that Heino was just a bit too Marty Feldmanian to inspire swooning fits among the frumpy Hausfraus who remain his target audience. By the way, the single is called "Dear Mother...A Bouquet that Never Wilts." I'm not sure whether he's giving his mother this or comparing her to one, but either way, I should call my mother.

One other thing. Why is it that posts that promise you the "Worst Album Covers of All Time" routinely include some of the best album covers of all time? Case in point:

The First Record Beck Ever Bought

In this heart-warming, Fluxus-inflected interview from the early 1990s, Beck reveals that the first record he ever bought was by one of this blog's favorite performers:

They've Come a Long Way, Baby

The German air force, that is. Here's their version of a German pop tune called "Get the Lasso Out" (h/t MW):

Poopzkid in da House

Spotted recently in my local public library, of all places. T-shirt is apparently a reference to this band (g):

Monday Music Blogging - Ulrich Schnauss

Bye Bye, Luebben City, Hello Blues

I browsed the "Mixed Goods and Revolution Accessories" store in the Manteuffel Strasse in Berlin a couple of weeks ago. An inspiring joint! The entire interior is encrusted with thousands of items: black parkas, sweaters and jackets hang from the ceiling like cloth stalactites, stands holding revolutionary propaganda are tucked into the chaos at seemingly random intervals, and the proper shelves host haphazard piles of books in many different languages. One of them was Bye bye, Luebben City: Bluesfreaks, Tramps und Hippies in der DDR. DDR = East Germany, otherwise the title is helpfully already in English for you.

I came very close to buying the book, but opted instead for a grimy pamphlet entitled Kommunistische Erziehung (Communist education), stapled together in the 1970s by some sort of collective of West Berlinbourgeois radicals. I figured it might, er, have historical value one day. Although judging by the fact that it only cost 4 euros 30 years after its original publication, that theory may need a little re-working. At any rate, I'll be posting translated excerpts of it soon.

Perhaps feeling pangs of guilt for not having bought the book, I decided to buy the accompanying CD, which features 16 crucial cuts from the 1970s/80s East German rock/blues underground. The only group I'd ever heard of before was the Klaus Renft Combo (mainly on the strength of Anna Funder's unforgettable evocation of Herr Renft in Stasiland (g)). Most of cuts are pretty good. You can tell that lots of the musicians benefited from thorough German musical education, which can sometimes be a handicap, but isn't here. The various bands turn in entirely respectable blue-collar rock anthems, blues, power ballads, as well as the odd mildly psychedelic navel-gazer. The Renft Combo's Caesar's Blues is scorching. But the standout has to be the track "Blues" by Panta Rhei ("everything flows" in Greek). Download it here (large .mp3). The owner of that awesomely smoldering, sultry alt (like Dusty Springfield, but somehow more authentic) is Veronika Fischer (g) one of the icons of the East German rock scene. Known affection as Vroni, she's released 20 albums in her own name, and is still on tour (g). Apparently she turned toward straightforward, bouncy pop sometime in the late '70s. You can see plenty of YouTube samples of the latter here. Not really my sort of thing, but pleasant enough as it goes.

Anyone want to let me know which records by her are worth checking out?

Invasion of the The Melody Snatchers

As introduction to this special multi-cultural socio-legal episode of Sunday music blogging, the YouTube intro composed by "dionnewarpig" should do nicely:

Here is a 1969/70 video of Cindy & Bert doing "Der Hun [sic!!] Von Baskerville"- a brilliant cover of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" apparently with lyrics relating Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes mystery The Hounds of Baskerville. Features a bored looking Cindy and Bert, some bored looking German mod dancers and an extremeley bored looking pekingese.

I would add only that dionnewarpig is obviously not skilled at detecting excitement in Germans (which can sometimes require careful observation). Without further throat-clearing, roll the clip [h/t JR]:

This video raises another interesting question: did Black Sabbath actually get paid for the use of the melody from 'Paranoia' used in this song? If you listen to German Schlager from the 1960s to 1980s, you constantly encounter songs in which the German song's melody and rhythm are exactly the same as some English or American pop hit on the order of Do You Know the Way to San Jose? or Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head. However, the lyrics are generally completely different in German -- that is, there's been no attempt to translate the English-language original. Generally, there's no acknowledgement on the record packaging that the melody and rhythm aren't original (although that may be because I am buying ultra-cheap compilations from the grocery store).

This makes me wonder whether German record companies were routinely stealing melodies and rhythms from English and American pop music, sticking new lyrics on them, and reaping fat profits. The German record companies probably thought to themselves: "The sort of Germans who listen to this music are unlikely to care where these somehow-familiar melodies originated. And the likelihood that the Western pop stars and record companies who own the copyright to these melodies and lyrics are going to realize what we've done is probably minimal. How much time does Glen Campbell spend listening to German mass-market Schlager?"

Now, perhaps all of this was done completely legally, either on a song-by-song basis or by some large-scale licensing deal. But if it wasn't, then there might be some lucrative lawsuits out there waiting to be filed. As George Harrison and Rod Stewart found out the hard way, riffs and melodies are copyrightable intellectual property... 

Annals of Heinology: Mating Habits

I count myself a fan of German Schlager star Heino, and have visited his current "city of residence," the picturesque medieval village of Bad Muenstereifel (g), several times.* I even bought a Heino doll, which my friends in the U.S. always thought was supposed to be Andy Warhol. Heino trained originally as a baker, and you can sample his own special hazelnut torte at 'Heino's Rathaus Cafe' (g), where he hangs out when he's not on tour. No, I've never met him (yet). Everyone says he's friendly and down-to-earth, despite the fact that he is never seen in public without his trademark dark glasses.

The most recent piece of news to sputter through German Joys' dedicted Heino teletype [h/t LMGP] deals with Heino's erotic side. Heino, you see, has been happily married to his wife Hannelore for decades now. They just gave the Bild tabloid an interview about their sex lives (g). Now, I'm no more eager than you to imagine the 'tranquilised albino Ken-doll' (Lonely Planet) in the physical act of love, but let us soldier forward in the name of Science: We learn that Hannelore can't go to sleep without Heino curled up next to her, that they make the beast with two backs at least three times a week -- sometimes 4! -- and that Heino is a tender, affectionate lover. And finally, the question we've all been asking privately for years, and Heino's immortal response (my translation): "What nobody knows: Heino takes his black sunglasses off during the act of love: 'In bed, I'm a completely private person. I don't have to be recognizable, so that someone can come up to me and slap me on the shoulder.'"

* No, I didn't go to BMe just to try to catch a glimpse of Heino. A couple times there were academic reasons, and once I went to hike through the surrounding countryside, which is extremely pleasant.

Element of Crime Tour 1993

Caught on quaintly funky Super 8 film by their tour bus driver: