Grief – "Kiox"
(Kummer + Eklat / Vertigo / Universal, from October 11)
Not a millimeter to the right, that's always clear to Felix Kummer. But on his solo album "Kiox", it's important for him to draw yet another demarcation line, to the stubbornness of the Kollegahs, Kontra Ks and Flers, whose genre terrain the power club singer now enters as a rapper: "That's not the music you're looking for, not the music you need, "he spits out to the common street and gangsta rap consumer right in the first track, this is not about Bosstransformation and self-optimizing narrative, not about songs by winners the victory, everything allowed except lose. " Instead, Kummer approaches an alternative German hip-hop narrative – and anticipates the villains from the scene: "Diminished feelings of fatigue" is what he demonstrates: "I make rap again soft, I make rap again sad . "
But it's not that soft then. The beats and the music, mostly programmed by the Berlin producer Blvth, are a dystopian hammering. Chopped siren noises whine over industrial construction site noise, it's apocalyptic, so noir and unbehaust as the trip-hop of Portishead, the grief, born in 1989, once discovered in his father's record shop. "Kiox" was the name of the business, an oasis of counterculture in the hazy Chemnitz, in the grief as Felix Brummer later founded the rock group Kraftklub together with his brother and a few other left skater boys. But for his "world hatred / self-hatred" as he calls his solo album, Kummer did not need his band, not even his rapper persona Carsten Chemnitz, who had been used to performing for some time and again for years. Kummer should carry his family name, because "Kiox" is personal, feeling shit stops.
Andreas Borcholte's playlist KW 41
1. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: Waiting For You
2nd Sabrina Claudio feat. Zayn: Rumors
3. Balbina: No end.
4. grief: Not the music
5. Danny Brown: Savage nomad
6. Lil Halima: Shoot
7. Yvon: Marco
8. Wilco: White Wooden Cross
9. Richard Dawson: Two halves
10. Wildwood Kin: Never Alone
Not everything has the cold force of "not the music", the consumption-critical punch in the gut of "how much is your outfit worth" or the narrative political pathos of the Chemnitz homage "9010" (). But in its best moments, the fatalistic prose, which sorrow carries upright anger in the voice, emits a similar gripping "psychodrama" as in his , For example, in "Schiff," a Titanic metaphor for his Nazi-torn and embossed hometown, including rust-brown patches that spread on the ship's side: "I'm stuck on this ship in the middle of now / Please do not ask me why It smells of piss, it smells like death / But I feel good here. " Kummer does not want to go to Berlin, still not. He stays in Chemnitz and mobilizes there the alternative scene to "We are more" concerts and to the resistance against right.
In addition to chunks like "ship" are no less tense, but amusing verpießerungs-phantasms like "The rest of my life" (with Max Raabe), the family visit blues "Every Years Again" and the general-Diss against lazy and talentless rapper (" But no "with Keke and Lgoony as guests). If grief tells disgusted of a future with couples and games evenings or parents phrases that everybody knows ("Put the phone away, you're just hanging in front of the thing", "Come on, you hardly ate anything") he reveals himself not only as a rhetorically versed everyday observer with suggestive flow (after all, washis babysitter), but also as a "misanthrope", which hates all people ("Okay"). That's a pose, of course. The man carries love in himself. Especially for his city. If you want to buy "Kiox" in the retail trade, then you have to make a pilgrimage to Chemnitz next weekend, into the alleged heart of the German eclipse. There, Kummer reopens his father's old record shop for a few days as a pop-up store. Come on, go there. (8.0) Andreas Borcholte
Price query time:
07.10.2019, 14:39 clock
KUMMER & EKLAT SOUND CARRIER
Yvon – "In the circle of love"
(A Sexy Records / Broken Silence, from October 11)
When Karel Gott died recently, his "Lake Maggiore" sounded through the speakers – and I realized: there is a phase in life when you will hear hits. And that may start now. Since my friend meI'm even more in love with him. And now Yvon Jansen is walking around the corner, singing something about the chocolate fountain that has been needled on the skin and possible feelings of regret about it. And in the background you can see and hear the sound of church bells tapping the melody that accompanies the fantasy of bathing in this heated chocolate product – and everything is fine.
You just have to get the right dose of shit in life to be able to endure this directness so that you do not have to hide behind irony, to sing along the light, go through the pain, the little scented candle "apple" to ignite, not to open the 7-minute training app and instead tapping the big toe on the floor.
"Yvon in the circle of love" is the right record for this phase.
The eleven songs of the album were written by the Hamburg musicians Carsten "Erobique" Meyer and Jaques Palminger. A little chanson, disco, soul. In addition, the actress and singer Yvon Jansen sings, and with such a foamy I-hoof-over-the-top way, that never sounds old or after hard-working theater and still reminds of Knef. Yvon Jansen is the one who also made the scene hit "When are you beaming?" sang. The three worked together for the first time in 2006 on the participation project "Songs For Joy" at the Maxim Gorki Theater in Berlin, which was also released as an album.
And now just this record, recorded live, you can not hear with this cultic clause in the head. You have to go in there when Jansen sings of Marco, who is becoming more and more of a circle problem (who does not know him, the Marco?) And Bill Withers' "Lovely Day" melody (is that a cover?) From the Sprezzatura sings, the kind of effortless effort to appear.
And that is probably exactly this ability that one can appreciate in the work of Carsten "Erobique" Meyers. It has sprezzatura. Because you never know if La Dolce Vita or a schizoid personality disorder is sung about here – and that's exactly how the poles in the life of a Schlager fan are. (7.7) Laura Ewert
Price query time:
07.10.2019, 14:36 clock
Yvon In The Circle Of Love
A Sexy Records (Broken Silence)
Wilco – "Ode To Joy"
(Rykodisc / Warner, since October 4)
Do you sometimes feel like a crumpled, empty plastic bag stuck in the branches of a dead tree, blown away by the wind? What a great picture for life and its fleetingness! Jeff Tweedy finds it in the penultimate song of the new album of his band Wilco, it's called "Hold Me Anyway" – hold on to everything. (.) Are we just so in love, "just because", Tweedy asks, and immediately gives the answer: "No I think it's poetry and magic / something too big to have a name". It sings, it breathes, over a lilting, acoustic shuffle rhythm – and guitarist Nels Cline electrifies the wind, which captures and carries away the plastic bag, target unknown.
"Ode To Joy", this Schiller and Beethoven evocative title, is a fitting staple for what is probably the most confident Wilco album so far. Tweedy, shaken by personal tragedies and still perpetuating his long years of painkiller and alcohol addiction, wants to know these new songs as anti-depressants: there is not enough love in this dark time, so you have to find new ones. And lo and behold: Attention, "Love Is Everywhere (Beware)," he postulates cheerfully, an update of the most beautiful Lennon songs about the yearning for peace and harmony.
Closer to the Beatles, Wilco was not long, at least not on the last two, rather folkrockenden albumsand , The fragility and transparency of "Ode To Joy" continues, at least until "Sky Blue Sky", the first album in this cast. Glenn Kotche's drumming and percussion here are always mixed very far forward, sometimes it sounds like improvised handpads on cardboard boxes, sometimes marching military trunk as in the opening "Bright Leaves" – a strong pulse, against the autumn of life and the dreariness of the Zeitgeist – and against the speechlessness and discursiveness that engulfs us in the midst of Twitter shitstorms and Trump tirades: "Arguing, I'd forgive / But I always forget / Which side I'm on", sings Tweedy, Matt and carried off. "Remember when wars would end?", He continues the tired inventory in "Before Us": "Now when something's dead / We try to kill it again."
Listened to on the radio
Wednesdays at 23 o'clock there is the Hamburger
No wonder you want to stay in bed all day, like the protagonist in "One And A Half Stars". It states, "I can not escape my domain," a testament to comfortable sociopathy. At the same time, the music gets faster and livelier in this song, which is tuning in, finds strength in the solipsistic localization. "Quiet Amplifier" then builds with ethereal-buzzing sound and Cline's first electric guitar (he has a Neil-Young moment in "We Were Lucky") the ramp for the determined, comforting pop songs that follow.
Is it stranger to live? Is it stranger to the? ", Tweedy asks in the dany-creeping" White Wooden Cross "as he thinks about one of those white crosses on the roadside reminiscent of an accidental death: how fast it can all be over! His conclusion is not the black hole in which he has fallen often enough, but the bright realization: "There's so much more out there". Said the plastic bag to the dead branches – and started happily fluttering. (8.5) Andreas Borcholte
Price query time:
26.09.2019, 10:58 clock
Ode to Joy
Richard Dawson – "2020"
(Domino / Goodtogo, from 11th October)
Finally it is there: the ballad on the overworked bladder of the shift worker in the logistics center. "Fulfillment Center" is her name, written by beard-folk bard Richard Dawson from Newcastle upon Tyne, the northwestern tip of England. In his unmistakable timbre between Brummbär and circular saw Dawson sings about someone who pisses out of desperation in a bottle, because he would spoil a good pinkel break the target in the online department store.
"Fulfillment Center" is the big ten-minute chunk on Dawson's Brocken not a poor sixth album. There are also metal excursions for the jogging playlist, where a freelancer fights his anxiety, and a song about a completely submerged pub – a symbolic image of the state of the United Kingdom. But on some Brexit discussions – is he coming now? Will he come later? Is there still a back door open so that the egg dance between Westminster and Brussels can go on forever? – Dawson does not let himself in. He counters the infinite story of Premier Bird Nest and his Brexit knights with a fart-dry prophetic message: the album title. "2020" is more statement than vision. Dawson explains the difference between before and after: there is none. At least if you look at the everyday life of the common population, which is measured in these songs with the relentlessness of an iris scanner.
Dawson is a solitaire in the current pop landscape. He has established a kind of Stone Age modernity, archaic and radically present at the same time. On his last workhe obsessively dealt with the Middle Ages in order to look at today's society through this lens as well. He likes traditions, but understands that when tapping on their current validity, they must be re-dumbed again and again, in case of doubt completely smashed. His cornerstones are folk, improv music and slightly rocked rock. He idolizes Sun Ra, stands for overtone singing and, in a figurative and literal sense, on crushed guitars. He often mounts the various facets of his voice in parallel to squeeze words never before used in pop songs into contortion melodies. "Surreptitiously" for example or "voluntary redundancy" and "projectile vomiting".
"2020" is not science fiction, but hyperrealism. It unfolds, despite occasional distortion attacks on the one hand and impeccable sing-along choruses on the other, not quite the force of Dawson's last two albums. On the contrary, it is probably the most civilized music he has ever published – without excessive demolition of sound and rhythm, with absolutely edifying harmonies and arrangements almost without lunacy. But even the most floral melodies act as stealth caps for the most bitter diagnoses. "There's nothing left of me," rejoices the deathly worked Amazon slave in the bladder ballad. (7.7) Arno Raffeiner
Price query time:
07.10.2019, 14:33 clock
Domino Records (Goodtogo)
rating: From "0" (absolute disaster) to "10" (absolute classic)