Today's view outside the Toilet Guppies HQ is rain on the construction work on the street below. So I'm suspending summer here on the blog, giving way to something industrial, man-made…
In 2004, garbage dump noise assault veterans Einstürzende Neubauten played a symbolically charged performance inside the former East German parliament, the Palace of the Republic, just before this monument to oppressive Communism was scheduled for demolition. (Just another revisionist event in Berlin's attempts at erasing certain architectural reminders from its collective memory.)
At the time, Neubauten were experimenting with ways of making a living from making music without being reliant on corporations to cover promotion, distribution, printing and other costs. They adopted the Internet porn model of website subscription, and recruited approximately 2,000 «supporters» who paid a one-off fee, not only in exchange for the CD that would result from the contributions, but also for the opportunity to witness the creative process (through regular webcasts) and sometimes the chance to provide feedback.
The first such experiment failed in its ultimate goal, as Neubauten had to cut their losses by making a deal with Mute Records to release the finished record—2004's Perpetuum Mobile. But «phase 2» of Neubauten's Supporter Project saw the experiment closing in on its goal, culminating in a CD released without the aid of a label. (The catch being that the edition was limited to the approximately 2,000 supporters only.) This CD, Grundstück, featured a five-part piece called, er, «Grundstück», in which live recordings from the Palace of the Republic performance were incorporated. At that performance, «supporters» had been invited to come down to Berlin a few days in advance of the show, to form a choir to be conducted by Neubauten. «Grundstück», then, is a kind of interactive piece, quite unique in the history of popular music.
After releasing Grundstück, Neubauten embarked on a parallel project to the Supporter Project, called Musterhaus. Musterhaus would consist of a series of CD releases (eight in total), released in the space of two years (in three-month intervals), for which buyers would have to subscribe, four CDs at a time. Musterhaus differed from the Supporter Project in that its music was supposed to be—and I quote—«experimental».
The seventh Musterhaus release was called Stimmen reste, and was a self-imposed restriction on the band to make music purely out of the human voice. Thus the piece «Kernstück» is a manipulated version of the choral work for the «Grundstück» section «Vox Populi».
The entire concept for «Grundstück» came from a song of the same name, created during the first phase of the Supporter Project (and available on Perpetuum Mobile). Here I've included the version of that song off the live album Prague Concert 2005, given away to supporters as a digital download, as well as the «Grundstück» piece featured on the neubauten.org supporter-only album Grundstück (the record features another four, separate songs), and the aforementioned «Kernstück»:
- Grundstück (live in Prague)
- GS 1
- GS 2
- Unseasonable Weather
- GS 3
- Vox Populi
- November/Sie lächelt
- Kernstück
Floor PieceWhat am I seeking in your dreams?I'm not seekingI'm cleaning upWhat you once put to the left…I pile it up, it will still be usedI just clear it awayAll the wasted opportunitiesNow as they are uselessI also clear them awayWhat am I seeking in your dreams?I'm not seekingI'm just cleaning upNow all the beasts turn upLong in hiding but still presentUnder the storiesStoriesHistoriesNot easily chased awayWhat am I seeking in your dreams?I'm not seeking...Until I see your dreams shining in the dark…GS1We are him and him and him and him and herAnd him and her and her and her her her her herWhen are they coming?When are they coming?When are they coming, those there-beyonders?When are they coming, those other-siders?Hidden and disheartenedThe unhung saintsThe useful prophetsErudite prolesNesting beneath our rootsUnspent optimistsNihilists find grounds toContradict themselvesContradictions once executedAre cleared awayWhat tomorrow is becomes todayAnd will be yesterday the day afterWe are...We are manyWhen, the all but extinct?When, those without blemish?Those eternal children?Driven from paradise?Fleeing rootless?Pied pipers, hoarse singers?Heretics, lyricists, exiles?Who knew each other from the pastWhen, the betrayed? Sold short?The bamboozled? Wasted?Under the influence? Underground?Who nearly went under? Almost sunk?Who've long since gone missingIn the cold ocean of tearsThose presumed drownedHeave themselves on board againThen sing on altogether: When?What tomorrow is becomes todayAnd will be yesterday the day afterWe are...We are manyWe are him and him and him and him and herAnd her and her and herWe are manyWhen are they coming, the metallurgists?When, the demiurges?The defectors? The deserters?The know-all heavy-duty litters?Do-it-yourselfers? Nutters? Welders?Just tighten up the nutsTruthpickersWorld mendersStart the machineAbandon the ruinRadical tunnel builders?Mining fetishists?Networking subversives?Ground-breakers break-uppersRemaining family?What tomorrow is becomes todayAnd will be yesterday the day afterWe are...We are manyGS2We have comeTo collect the giftsUnseasonable WeatherWe bunkerWe bunkerCatastrophes thunder outsideMegacryometeorsPermanent NovemberWe bunkerWe hoardWe dig in for later onWe hope we will rememberWhere the heart of the matter isGS3We are the lastStranded houndedAnd again it's like it wasAgain it is bleak and emptyWe draw the splinters from our woundsThe planks from our eyesAnd peer at least beyond our abyssInto fathomlessness worldwideWe speak of the miraclesStill safely buriedBeneath our skullscapesWe are the lastStranded woundedEach and every one in his dreamsDisturbed and awoken:I had a dreamNot a single man can sayWhat my dream wasTo me it seemed I wasTo me it seemed I hadThe eye does not hear itThe ear did not see itThe hands cannot taste itThe tongue cannot graspThe heart cannot repeatWhat my dream wasVox PopuliI wish some of my contemporaries werePrecisely that: conned, temporarilyNovemberThe gown is in tatters with the seamsBeneath clear to seeIt is stretched so taut, the stitchingCan hardly hold itThe cloth is embroideredWith avarice and greedEach single section sewn togetherWith threads of liesIt is threadbare!He who wears it bears itBut could tear it to shreds in rageIt is a shroudIt is a business suitTurned inside outThe seams laid bareWhoever sewed it thusAnd why is it now no matterIt is threadbare!We further unstitch the seamsTear out the liningWe see what holds the different partsInside togetherThe whole thing is nothing more than a ragIt no longer means the worldIt is threadbare!She SmilesShe smilesShe smilesIn a godless momentSuspended into the worldPerpendicularAs a plumb lineShe knows and she smilesShe smiles and knowsA simple cutA simple cutCut
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