Perspectives on German Popular Music 9781317081739, 1317081730

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Perspectives on German Popular Music

In this book, native popular musicologists focus on their own popular music cultures from Germany, Austria and Switzerland for the first time: from subcultural to mainstream phenomena; from the 1950s to contemporary acts. Starting with an introduction and two chapters on the histories of German popular music and its study, the volume then concentrates on focused, detailed and yet concise close readings from different perspectives (including particular historical East and West German perspectives), mostly focusing on the music and its protagonists. Moreover, these analyses deal with very original specific genres such as schlager and krautrock as well as transcultural genres such as punk or hip hop. There are additional chapters on characteristically German developments within music media, journalism and the music industry. The book will contribute to a better understanding of German, Austrian and Swiss popular music, and will interconnect international and especially Anglo-American studies with German approaches. The book, as a consequence, will show close connections between global and local popular music cultures and diverse traditions of study. Michael Ahlers has studied music education, German and musicology. He worked as an editor and ran a company for music production. His PhD was on human–machine interfaces in music production software. He is Professor of Music Education and Popular Music at the Leuphana University of Lüneburg, Germany. His main research is on empirical music pedagogy, creativity and improvisation, as well as popular music studies. Christoph Jacke has studied communication and media, politics and English. He has worked as a music journalist. He is Professor of Theory, Aesthetics and History of Popular Music, and Director of the BA and MA programme in Popular Music and Media at the Department of Music at the University of Paderborn, Germany. His research focus is on media, culture and communications theory, cultural studies, celebrity studies and popular music studies.

Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series Series Editors: Stan Hawkins, Professor of Popular Musicology, University of Oslo Lori Burns, Professor, University of Ottawa, Canada

Popular musicology embraces the field of musicological study that engages with popular forms of music, especially music associated with commerce, entertainment and leisure activities. The Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series aims to present the best research in this field. Authors are concerned with criticism and analysis of the music itself, as well as locating musical practices, values and meanings in cultural context. The focus of the series is on popular music of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, with a remit to encompass the entirety of the world’s popular music. Critical and analytical tools employed in the study of popular music are being continually developed and refined in the twenty-first century. Perspectives on the transcultural and intercultural uses of popular music have enriched understanding of social context, reception and subject position. Popular genres as distinct as reggae, township, bhangra, and flamenco are features of a shrinking, transnational world. The series recognizes and addresses the emergence of mixed genres and new global fusions, and utilizes a wide range of theoretical models drawn from anthropology, sociology, psychoanalysis, media studies, semiotics, postcolonial studies, feminism, gender studies and queer studies. Other titles in the series: Music and Irish Identity: Celtic Tiger Blues Gerry Smyth Heavy Metal, Gender and Sexuality: Interdisciplinary Approaches Edited by Florian Heesch, Niall Scott The Songs of Joni Mitchell: Gender, Performance and Agency Anne Karppinen The Singer-Songwriter in Europe: Paradigms, Politics and Place Edited by Isabelle Marc, Stuart Green When Music Migrates: Crossing British and European Racial Faultlines, 1945–2010 Jon Stratton The Twenty-First-Century Legacy of the Beatles: Liverpool and Popular Music Heritage Tourism Michael Brocken The Quest for the Melodic Electric Bass: From Jamerson to Spenner Per Elias Drabløs

Perspectives on German Popular Music Edited by Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke

First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke, editorial and selection matter; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Names: Ahlers, Michael, editor. | Jacke, Christoph, 1968– editor. Title: Perspectives on German popular music / edited by Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke. Description: New York : Routledge, 2016. | Series: Ashgate popular and folk music series | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016032100 | ISBN 9781472479624 (hardback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781315600208 (e-book) Subjects: LCSH: Popular music—Germany—History and criticism. Classification: LCC ML3490 .P45 2016 | DDC 781.640943—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016032100 ISBN: 978-1-4724-7962-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-60020-8 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC We are grateful to Michael Kutzia for his permission to use the cover image. http://mkuphotographie.blogspot.de

Contents

List of figures and tablesix Notes on contributorsx PART I

Histories and foundations1   1 A fragile kaleidoscope: institutions, methodologies and outlooks on German popular music (studies)

3

MICHAEL AHLERS AND CHRISTOPH JACKE

  2 Popular music studies in Germany: from the origins to the 1990s

16

HELMUT RÖSING

  3 Looking east: popular music studies between theory and practice

33

PETER WICKE

PART II

Arts and experiments

53

  4 Kosmische musik: on krautrock’s takeoff

55

JENS GERRIT PAPENBURG

  5 Kraftwerk: the history and aesthetics of a pop-cultural concept

61

DIRK MATEJOVSKI

  6 Pophörspiel: popular music in radio art HOLGER SCHULZE

67

vi  Contents PART III

Mainstreams and masses75   7 Hit Men: Giorgio Moroder, Frank Farian and the eurodisco sound of the 1970/80s

77

THOMAS KRETTENAUER

  8 A re-encounter with the Scorpions’ ‘Wind of Change’: why I couldn’t stand it then – what I learn from analysing it now

88

RALF VON APPEN

  9 Modern Talking, musicology and I: analysing and interpreting forbidden fruit

94

ANDRÉ DOEHRING

10 Rocking Granny’s living room? The new voices of German schlager

100

JULIO MENDÍVIL

PART IV

Niches and subcultures109 11 The popularization of electronic dance music: German artists/producers and the eurodance phenomenon

111

NICO THOM

12 Restless and wild: early West German heavy metal

116

DIETMAR ELFLEIN

13 No escape from noise: ‘geräuschmusik’ made in Germany

123

TILL KNIOLA

14 German gothic: from ‘Neue Deutsche Todeskunst’ to neoVictorian steampunk

128

BIRGIT RICHARD

15 ‘The interesting ones’: ‘Hamburger Schule’ and the ‘secondariness’ of German pop

135

TILL HUBER

16 Music, line dance and country and western-themed events: insights into German country music culture STEFANIE JÄGER AND NILS KIRSCHLAGER

140

Contents vii PART V

Politics and gender147 17 Music of the right-wing scene: text content, distribution and effects

149

GEORG BRUNNER

18 Rammstein under observation

158

SUSANNE BINAS-PREISENDÖRFER AND ARNE WACHTMANN

19 Rap music in Germany

165

AYLA GÜLER SAIED

20 ‘Heulsusen-pop’: new male sensitivity in German independent music

172

MAREN VOLKMANN

21 From ‘Frauenfest’ to ‘Bitchsm’: feminist strategies in German-language popular music from the 1970s until today

179

SONJA EISMANN

PART VI

Germanness and otherness

183

22 ‘White punks on dope’ in Germany: Nina Hagen’s punk covers

185

MORITZ BAßLER

23 Singing in German: pop music and the question of language

190

DIEDRICH DIEDERICHSEN

24 ‘NDW’/New German wave: from punk to mainstream

195

BARBARA HORNBERGER

25 Integrated music media analysis: an application to Trio

201

CHRISTOFER JOST

26 Punk in Germany

208

PHILIPP MEINERT AND MARTIN SEELIGER

27 Popular music from Austria ROSA REITSAMER

213

viii  Contents 28 From soundtrack of the reunification to the celebration of Germanness: Paul van Dyk and Peter Heppner’s ‘Wir sind Wir’ as national trance anthem

217

MELANIE SCHILLER

PART VII

Electronic sounds and cities

223

29 Concepts of Cologne

225

HANS NIESWANDT

30 Who said it’s got to be ‘clean’? Stereotypes, presets and discontent in German electronic sound studios

231

JOHANNES ISMAIEL-WENDT

31 The Berlin sound of techno

237

DANIEL METEO AND SANDRA PASSARO

PART VIII

Media and industries245 32 The history of the German popular music industry in the twentieth century

247

KLAUS NATHAUS

33 Pop on TV: the national and international success of Radio Bremen’s Beat-Club

253

DETLEF SIEGFRIED

34 German music talent shows

259

NICOLAS RUTH AND HOLGER SCHRAMM

References and further reading Index

265 305

Figures and tables

Figures 10.1 10.2 14.1 14.2 16.1

Andreas Gabalier (Michael May) Helene Fischer (Sandra Ludewig) Wave-Gotik meeting Leipzig, 2013a (Birgit Richard) Wave-Gotik meeting Leipzig, 2013b (Birgit Richard) The components of a typical country and western-themed event in Germany (Stefanie Jäger/Nils Kirschlager)

105 106 130 131 145

Tables   8.1 Song structure of ‘Wind of Change’ 10.1 The harmonic structure of schlager music in the cultural imagination of schlager listeners 12.1 German states and the formation of heavy metal bands 12.2 Bands that come from big cities 12.3 Bands continuously active (to 2014) 17.1 Styles of extreme right-wing music

90 102 120 121 121 152

Contributors

Michael Ahlers has studied music education, German and musicology. He worked as an editor and ran a company for music production. His PhD was on human–machine interfaces in music production software. He now is working as a professor for music education and popular music at the Leuphana University of Lüneburg. His main research is on empirical music pedagogy, creativity, and improvisation as well as popular music studies. Christoph Jacke is professor of theory, aesthetics and history of popular music and director of the BA and MA programme in popular music and media at the Dept. of Music at the University of Paderborn, Germany. His research focus is on media, culture and communications theory, cultural studies, celebrity studies and popular music studies. He is chair of the branch of popular culture and media at the German society for media studies (GfM) and member of the advisory boards of the German society for popular music studies (GfPM), German/Austrian/Swiss branch of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM), and the institute for popular music at Folkwang University of the Arts in Essen/Bochum. Together with Martin Zierold he is the editor of a book series called Popular Culture and Media with LIT ­publishers. He is co-editor with Charis Goer and Stefan Greif of Texte zur Theorie des Pop with Reclam publisher and has currently co-edited an issue of the IASPM journal with Martin James and Ed Montano on music journalism. Helmut Rösing worked from 1967 until 1972 as a line producer for symphony and opera at the Saarländischer Rundfunk. Afterwards he was director of the International Dictionary of Music Resources (RISM). From 1978 he worked as a professor for music education with a focus on empirical musicology. From 1993 he was professor for systematical musicology at the University of Hamburg. He retired in 2005. He was founder of the German ASPM and is an author of a large variety of books and articles on these matters. Peter Wicke is professor for the theory and history of popular music and the director of the centre for popular music research at Humboldt University’s seminar for musicology. He studied musicology in Berlin until 1974 and received his doctoral degree in 1980 with a thesis on the aesthetics of popular

Contributors xi music. He qualified as a university teacher in 1986. In 1988 he was appointed as adjunct research professor at the department of music at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada. He is a member of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music, and was its secretary general between 1987 and 1991. Between 1986 and 1992 he was the European director of the International Communication and Youth Culture Consortium at UNESCO, in 1993–1997 he was a member of the executive committee of the cultural-political society in Germany, since 1998 he has been a member of the German music council. He is a member of the editorial board of the academic journals Popular Music (Cambridge University Press) and Popular Music History (Equinox London) and a member of the advisory board of the International Institute for Popular Culture (University of Turku). He published numerous articles and books that were translated into more than fifteen languages. Guest lectures and tours led him to many universities abroad, including Great Britain, USA and Canada. Jens Gerrit Papenburg has been a research associate and lecturer at the institute of musicology and media studies at Berlin’s Humboldt University since 2006. He is the co-founder of the international research network Sound in Media Culture (funded by the DFG 2010–13). His main areas of interest are listening practices and technologies in popular music, popular music and media and sound studies. He finished his PhD in 2011 (Listening Devices – Technologies of Perception in Popular Music). He is currently working on his postdoctoral treatise about a cultural history of para-auditive subjectivities in (popular) music. Dirk Matejovski holds a professorship at the institute for media and cultural studies of the Heinrich-Heine-University in Düsseldorf. Before he was chief engineering officer at the centre of research of North-Rhine-Westfalia at Düsseldorf. His main research interests focus on acoustic studies, history and theory of media and serial techniques in media and culture. Holger Schulze is full professor in musicology at the University of Copenhagen and principal investigator at the Sound Studies Lab. He serves as curator for the Haus der Kulturen der Welt Berlin and as founding editor of the book series Sound Studies. He is the author of Theorie der Werkgenese, a generative theory of artefacts in three volumes: Das aleatorische Spiel (2000) − Heuristik (2005) − Intimität und Medialität (2012). He is associate investigator at the cluster of excellence Image Knowledge Gestaltung: an interdisciplinary laboratory at Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin and founding member of the European Sound Studies Association as well as a guest researcher at the Nordic Research Network for Sound Studies. Since 2011 he has been co-editor of the international journal for historical anthropology Paragrana; in 2008 he founded the international research network Sound in Media Culture, 2000–2009 he was a co-founder and the first head of department of the new MA-programme in sound studies at the Universität der Künste Berlin. He was invited visiting professor at the Musashino Art University in Tokyo, at Humboldt-Universität

xii  Contributors zu Berlin, at the Leuphana Universität Lüneburg as well as lecturer at the Leopold-Franzens-Universität in Innsbruck. He writes for TEXTE ZUR KUNST, Merkur, Deutschlandradio Kultur, freitag, Positionen, de:bug. Thomas Krettenauer first studied music education and afterwards finished his MA in musicology. He worked as a teacher and musician in Augsburg, Bavaria. After a senior lectureship in Freiburg, he has been professor for music education at the University of Paderborn since 2004. His main research activities include didactics of popular music, historic musicology, music in movies, history of music theatre and intercultural music education. Ralf von Appen has been working as a teaching and research assistant at the University of Gießen since 2004. He has been a board member of the German ASPM since 2008, and is a co-editor of the academic online journal Samples. Von Appen published a book on the aesthetics of popular music in 2007, and several papers dealing with the history, psychology, analysis and aesthetics of popular music. André Doehring holds a PhD in musicology and is working as a research and teaching assistant at the University of Gießen. He has been member of the scientific board of the German ASPM since 2005. His work concentrates on the history and analysis of popular music, jazz, and electronic dance music as well as on the sociology of music. He published a book on popular music journalism (Transcript 2011), and is co-editor of Song Interpretation in Twenty-first–Century Pop Music (Ashgate 2014). Julio Mendívil is a Peruvian author, musician and ethnomusicologist living in Germany. He has published La agonía del condenado (León, 1998), Todas las voces: artículos sobre música popular (Lima, 2001), Ein musikalisches Stück Heimat: ethnologische Beobachtungen zum deutschen Schlager (Bielefeld, 2008), Del juju al uauco (Quito, 2009) and several articles in musicological and academic journals in Europe and Latin America. From 2008 until 2012 Julio Mendívil led the ethnomusicological department of the institute for musicology at the University of Cologne. At present Julio Mendívil is chair of the ASPM, Latin American Branch, and professor for ethnomusicology at the Goethe University at Frankfurt am Main. Nico Thom is a German musicologist. He has currently submitted his PhD thesis on drum’n’bass and system theory at the University of Leipzig. He is working at the University of Music in Lübeck as a research fellow and as member of the network of German universities of music. Additionally, he holds several lectureships. His main field of interest is popular music with a focus on Europe. Dietmar Elflein is a lecturer on popular music at the TU Braunschweig. He wrote his PhD on the musical analysis of heavy metal. He is member of the scientific advisory board of the German Society for Popular Music Studies. His research interests are on: German popular music history, appropriation of Afro-American music in Germany, popular music analysis.

Contributors xiii Til Kniola studied cultural anthropology, linguistics and prehistory in Münster and London and published his own magazine on electronic music and counterculture from 1992–2009. He runs the label AUFABWEGEN for experimental electronic music, ambient, noise and sound art. He has had close collaboration with the German musician/composer Asmus Tietchens (artist website, publisher of a monography about Tietchens, handling bookings). He was curator, author and DJ in the field of experimental electronics/noise. He has been working in music and culture professionally since 2002. He was general manager of the project ON – Neue Musik Köln, a network for the promotion of contemporary music supported by the Kulturstiftung des Bundes and project coordinator at the institute for music and acoustics at ZKM – Zentrum für Kunst und Medientechnologie Karlsruhe. Since January 2014 he is advisor of Pop- und Filmkultur of the city of Cologne. Birgit Richard has been professor for new media in theory and practice at the Goethe University in Frankfurt since 1998. Her fields of specialisation include: aesthetics of everyday life (contemporary youth cultures, popular music, such as gothic, black metal, rave culture) fashion, design, popular culture in common, gaming; representation of women in computer games; and images of death in new media. She is editor of several volumes of Kunstforum International: volumes on fashion, time, images of violence, art and life sciences, art and magic and founder of the youth culture archive (Archiv der Jugendkulturen) in Frankfurt. Till Huber earned his master’s degree at the University of Hamburg (German and American Studies). Currently, he is working on his PhD thesis at Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität in Münster as a member of the Graduate School Practices of Literature. He is the co-founder of Textpraxis. Digitales Journal für Philologie; he worked as a lecturer at the Universities of Hamburg and Münster and is the author of several publications regarding pop music and pop literature. Stefanie Jäger studied popular music and media at the University of Paderborn and graduated with both a bachelor’s (2007) and a master’s degree (2010). Her master’s thesis focused on the effects of music in sports and the different ways of usage of mobile music devices during exercise. Nils Kirschlager studied popular music and media at the University of Paderborn and graduated with both bachelor’s (2006) and master’s degrees (2009), with his final thesis focusing on musical analysis of country blues in the Mississippi Delta region. Nils Kirschlager is currently working as research assistant at the University of Paderborn focussing on his PhD thesis on German country music. Georg Brunner studied music education at the Munich academy of music, musicology, education and music education at the University of Augsburg, PhD in 1995; from 1985 to 1998 he taught at various high schools in Bavaria, from

xiv  Contributors 1998 teaching at the University of Regensburg (music education), 2000 associate professor of music education at the University Erlangen-Nuremberg, since 2004/2005 professor of music and its didactics at the University of Education Freiburg. Working areas: teaching research topics of the sociology of music (e.g. youth cultures, the music of the right-wing scene, crowd chants), teacher training. Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer got her diploma in musicology and cultural studies (1987) at Humboldt-University, Berlin. PhD thesis in musicology (1991), Humboldt-University, Berlin, and postdoctoral qualification (1995–2001), Humboldt-University, Berlin. Place of employment: music and media, department of music, faculty of cultural studies and linguistics, University of Oldenburg, Germany. Research interests: music and mediatisation, sound and culture, popular music, globalization, transculturalisation, popular music and gender, musical/cultural policy. She is chair of the German/Austrian/Swiss branch of the IASPM and professor for music and media at the Carl-von-Ossietzky University at Oldenburg. Arne Wachtmann works as a research assistant at the Carl-von-Ossietzky University at Oldenburg. Ayla Güler Saied studied social work at Cologne University of Applied Sciences. In 2012 she received her PhD in sociology from the University of Cologne. Her dissertation dealt with rap culture in Germany and was published by Transcript publishers. She teaches at the University of Cologne and the University of Applied Sciences in Bielefeld. Güler Saied is an expert on hip-hop culture in Germany. Her main research and teaching fields are: social inequality and social movements, migration, racism, gender and cultural studies. Since December 2013 she has been working as a project manager for the establishment of an umbrella organisation for female migrants’ self-led organisations in Germany. Maren Volkmann is a graduate of the Ruhr University Bochum, Germany, and has a PhD in German studies. Her PhD thesis is entitled Music and Gender in German-Speaking Pop-Literature Written by Women. She is a trained editor and currently works as a science journalist at the corporate communications department of the Ruhr University Bochum. Sonja Eismann studied comparative literature, English and French in Vienna, Mannheim, Dijon and Santa Cruz, California. Now living in Berlin, she is one of the founders and editors of Missy Magazine. She writes on representations of gender in popular culture, new DIY communities, and the utopian potential of fashion, as well as teaching at universities in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. Moritz Baßler, born 1962, works as professor of neuere deutsche Literatur at the University of Münster and studied German literature and philosophy at the Universities of Kiel, Tübingen, and with Tony Kaes at California, Berkeley. He

Contributors xv wrote a dissertation on expressionist prose (Die Entdeckung der Textur, Tübingen 1994), introduced the new historicism to Germany (ed. New Historicism, Frankfurt 1995), became assistant of Helmut Lethen in Rostock, published a study on contemporary pop literature (Der deutsche Pop-Roman, München 2002) and a habilitation on context theory (Die kulturpoetische Funktion und das Archiv, Tübingen 2005) and research on cultural theory and popular culture, including pop music. He is co-editor of POP – Kultur und Kritik. Diehard textualist. Diedrich Diederichsen was an editor and/or publisher of music journals in Hamburg and Cologne (Sounds, Spex) in the 1980s. Since the 1990s he has been a university teacher as guest professor in Frankfurt, Stuttgart, Pasadena, Offenbach, Munich, Gießen, Weimar, Bremen, Vienna, St. Louis, Cologne, Los Angeles and Gainesville, Florida. From 1998 to 2007 he was professor for aesthetic theory/cultural studies at Merz-Akademie, Stuttgart. Since 2006 he has been a professor for the theory, practice, and communication of contemporary arts at the institute for art history and cultural studies at the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna. He is the author for several magazines, dailies and journals in the German speaking world (Texte zur Kunst, Theater heute, Cargo, Spex, Die Zeit, tageszeitung, Süddeutsche Zeitung, and many others). He works continuously on popular music, contemporary art, modern composition, cinema, theatre, design and politics. Barbara Hornberger studied cultural studies, aesthetics and applied arts at the University of Hildesheim and specialized on popular culture, esp. popular music. Her PhD was an exploration of the topic new German wave (Neue Deutsche Welle). She is now lecturer for popular culture at the University of Hildesheim. Christofer Jost works as a commissarial deputy director of the German popular song archive (Deutsches Volksliedarchiv) in Freiburg; he is also a senior lecturer at the department of media studies at the University of Basel. From 1997 to 2002 he studied music/musicology and British/American studies (teaching degree) at the University of Mainz where he gained his doctorate in 2008. In 2011 he completed his postdoctoral treatise at the University of Basel. In 2013 he held a full fixed-term professorship at the Department of Media and Communication Studies at the University of Mannheim. His main interests in research and teaching are popular music studies and media studies. Philipp Meinert studied social science and is working for a member of the German Bundestag in Berlin. Martin Seeliger works as a researcher at the Max-Planck-Institute for the Study of Societies in Cologne. Rosa Reitsamer, sociologist, lecturer at the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna, Austria. Her latest publications include the monograph Die Do-It-Yourself-Karrieren der DJs – Über die Arbeit in elektronischen

xvi  Contributors Musikszenen (Transcript 2013), and the articles Female Pressure: A Translocal Feminist Youth-Oriented Cultural Network (Continuum. Journal of Media and Cultural Studies, 2012, Vol. 26 (3)) and Postmigrantischer HipHop in Österreich – Hybridität, Sprache, Männlichkeit (with Rainer Prokop, in E. Yildiz & M. Hill (Eds.): Nach der Migration – Postmigrantische Perspektiven jenseits der Parallelgesellschaft, Bielefeld: Transcript). Melanie Schiller is assistant professor of media studies and popular music at the arts, culture and media department of the Rijksuniversiteit Groningen (the Netherlands). Her doctoral research within the Amsterdam School for Cultural Analysis (ASCA) at the University of Amsterdam focused on popular music and postwar-Germanness, and was concluded with her dissertation entitled Sound-Tracking Germany – 70 Years of Imagining the Nation from Schlager to Techno. Schiller is a board member of IASPM Benelux and is Netherlands national representative of YECREA (Young Scholars Network European Communication Research and Education Association). Her current research interests include popular music and national identity, globalisation, (inter-)media and live performances as well as notions of aging in pop. Hans Nieswandt is a permanent, respected character in the world of DJ and club culture, of electronic music production and of writing on music for more than twenty years. Extensive DJ and lecturing travels took him around the world. Solo and together with the group Whirlpool Productions, he produced seven albums and countless remixes. In 2002, his first book plus minus acht – DJ Tage, DJ Nächte was published, followed by Disko Ramallah und andere merkwürdige Orte zum Plattenauflegen (2006) and DJ Dionysos – Geschichten aus der Diskowelt (2010). Since 2003, his weekly radio show Plan B mit Hans Nieswandt has been broadcast on German station WDR 1Live. Hans Nieswandt has been invited for guest lectures by academies, universities and institutions in Bonn, Düsseldorf, Berlin, Bochum, Osnabrück, Karlsruhe, Turin, Frankfurt, etc., covering a wide range of topics from electronic music production, DJing, youth culture, fashion, politics, arts and social sciences. For the Goethe Institute, he travelled to Brazil, Mexico, South Africa, the Middle East, the Far East, Siberia, Turkey and Italy, doing workshops and performances. He is also member of the board of consultants of this institution. Since 2014 he has been chief executive of the institute for popular music at Folkwang Universität der Künste, Essen (Germany). anthropology Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt studied Kulturwissenschaft (cultural ­ and cultural studies), sociology and musicology at University Bremen, Germany. His PhD thesis is entitled TRACKS’N’TREKS – Popular Music and Postcolonial Analysis. Between 2010 and 2012 he was academic advisor at Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Berlin where he worked on two projects: global prayers and translating hip-hop. Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt teaches and gives sound lectures on aesthetics and sociology of funk, electronic dance music and transcultural music studies. He is professor for musicology at

Contributors xvii Stiftung Universität Hildesheim, Germany. His current research project ‘postPRESETS’ focuses on music technology, performance as/and postcolonial knowledge production. Daniel Meteo studied musicology at the University of Cologne. After moving to Berlin he joined Marco Haas aka T.Raumschmiere and Sascha Ring aka Apparat, running the labels Shitkatapult, METEOSOUND and Album Label. Since 2007, Shitkatapult has been functioning under the roof of Random Noize Musick GmbH, which includes all the three labels and the publishing company. He also works as curator and manager (e.g. for Apparat). Along with Tom Thiel, he’s one-half of the dub/hip-hop/electronica duo Bus. Sandra Passaro is founder and owner of Stars & Heroes and has been international artist at the label communication agency and Hyper Culture Music Projects Berlin since 2004. Hyper Culture creates and executes interdisciplinary culture projects in the fields of music, media and art. Since 2008 she has been instructor (CC) for audio-visual media businesses. Since 2013 she has been curator and project manager of Norient Musikfilm Berlin, lecturer and researcher on pop music and media. She is a member of the board of the IASPM (D-A-CH) and has contributed articles for Löcker Publishing and Transcript Verlag. Klaus Nathaus is lecturer on economic and social history at the University of Edinburgh. He was awarded his PhD at Humboldt University Berlin for a dissertation on the history of clubs and associations in Germany and Britain in the nineteenth and twentieth century. He currently researches the history of popular music production in twentieth century Germany. Detlef Siegfried is professor of modern German and European history at the University of Copenhagen. Nicolas Ruth studied musicology at the Justus-Liebig-University Gießen and popular music and media at the University of Paderborn. He acquired experience in different branches like television and radio and is working as an event manager at the international Emergenza Festival since 2009. In 2012 he became a scientific assistant in the media and business communication department at the institute Human-Computer-Media (Julius-Maximilians-University Würzburg). Ruth’s research focus is on popular music, music on the radio, copyright matters and normative music. He still is an active musician. Holger Schramm is professor and head of the media and business communication department at the institute Human-Computer-Media (Julius-MaximiliansUniversity Würzburg). He is author or (co-)editor of more than ten books, e.g. Handbuch Musik und Medien (Handbook of Music and Media) and Handbuch Medienrezeption (Handbook of Media Processes). His numerous articles are published in edited books and national/international journals. His research focuses on music and media, sports communication, entertainment, and advertising effects.

Part I

Histories and foundations

1 A fragile kaleidoscope Institutions, methodologies and outlooks on German popular music (studies) Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke The present volume attempts to assemble the full range of methodological and disciplinary approaches to popular music within the Germanophone countries. In co-ordinating such a project, however, it quickly becomes clear how fragmented and fragile such a kaleidoscope of assorted perspectives has to remain if one does not wish it to become a multi-volume compendium, and if one wants to complete the project successfully and by an agreed-upon deadline. Just as rapidly as pop keeps reinventing itself and re-citing itself, German-speaking Europe presently continues to experience a rapid emergence of new publications, studies, organizations and journalistic or academic discourses about it. The present work could not have been realized in its current form if it were not for the essential motivation and persistence of Derek Scott, the long-standing editor of this series. For several years, we have been pursuing the notion that Germanophone scholars conducting research on the pop music produced in Switzerland, Austria and Germany might one day achieve greater visibility for their work by publishing it in a prestigious English-language compilation. This ambitious project has gained crucial support most notably from the very same Derek Scott. At a 2012 meeting in Basel, he first told us that he had been wondering for some time why it always seemed that it was scholars in Canada, Wales or elsewhere who were doing the research on German pop music – and why we Germanophones were not doing it ourselves. That conference likewise elicited a great deal of discussion about inter- and transdisciplinary historiographies as well as methods for the scientific observation of pop music cultures (cf. Scott, 2014; Rösing, 2014; Wald, 2014). There the same three points were repeatedly made: Firstly, it is apparently not such an easy matter for Germanophone researchers to examine their own pop music(s). Secondly, there is an apparent tendency among these observers to address and analyze the ‘cool subcultures’ instead of attending to the more broadly-based mainstream ones. And lastly, both the observing subjects as well as the pop music figures under investigation are mostly males. We vowed to Derek Scott that we would remedy these impressions, and here we are at least making the effort to do so. We are also genuinely indebted to Stan Hawkins and Lori Burns, the ‘new team’ at the present book series. To begin a book with such expressions of gratitude determines the path we intend to tread with this introductory essay. For as

4  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke interested as the aforementioned colleagues were in a book like this one, they were equally sceptical of the rather unusual – perhaps even immodest – format in which these more than thirty contributions were collected. In the following, then, it will be our objective to render transparent the internal logic and consistency of our approach and the resulting contents. We will endeavour to provide a common thread for readers while also reflecting critically on possible blind spots in the collection. Finally, in a closing prospectus, we will encourage the next stages of research in the field in the near future. And all this will be done against the backdrop of Germanophone research on popular music, which has largely been – and continues to be – quite institutionalized. At the same time, we are under no illusions that the ‘German’ descriptions Scott (and others) have called for are capable of replacing ‘non-German’ ones. After all, in principle, it is really only through transnational/cross-cultural interaction that a clearer, more complex picture of pop cultures can be presented. Moreover, as is well known, the cultures of pop music and research on them can only truly be examined from the perspective of the present day, describing those cultures ‘thus far’ and suggesting how they might develop ‘from now on’ (see Mitterer, 1999; Schmidt, 2007). Nonetheless, to assess the one without the other is doomed to failure – an especially pivotal aspect when regarding pop in these times of ‘glocal’ dynamics, major migration flows, novel and confusing crises, fundamentalistic simplifications and all-embracing digitalizations. A broad understanding of pop music culture therefore appears valuable for framing our research domain, thereby enabling us to overcome elitist boundaries between enlightenment and entertainment – as well as pop-elitist ones between trivial and more demanding pop music – and to take popular music (in the most genuine sense of the term) more seriously (see Frith, 2007). It should similarly be possible to illustrate the predominant contexts of pop music (media) cultures. For in our understanding, pop(ular) culture designates a commercialized social domain that produces subject matter in an industrial, mass-mediated fashion. This subject matter is then utilized for pleasure and processed further by numerically significant populations, who in turn produce new music, and media offerings. The agents of pop culture are under particular (time) pressures to innovate. This understanding applies to multiple levels of the mass-mediated communication process: from production and distribution to reception and (further/post) processing. Participants in pop culture are especially resourceful in the ‘economy of attention’, driven by the mainstream and the dissent which it requires (see Jacke, 2013b: p. 272).1 In pop music cultures in particular, the aforementioned dynamics – and their statics – can be read in close proximity to the material, virtually in seismographic fashion. This phenomenon has been described quite aptly by the prominent British music journalist Mark Fisher in terms of the current pop music ‘retromania’ (see Reynolds, 2011) and ‘hauntology’: If Kraftwerk’s music came out of a casual intolerance of the alreadyestablished, then the present moment is marked by its extraordinary accommodation towards the past. More than that, the very distinction between past

A fragile kaleidoscope 5 and present is breaking down. In 1981, the 1960s seemed much further away than they do today. Since then, cultural time has folded back on itself, and the impression of linear development has given way to a strange simultaneity. (Fisher, 2014: p. 9)

Current status As demonstrated in Helmut Rösing’s and Peter Wicke’s contributions to the present volume, researchers in musicology have long found it challenging to accommodate ‘pop-specific’ subjects and phenomena. Nor was this a specifically East/West German issue after World War II or before and after reunification (die Wende). Austria, Switzerland and other Germanophone countries have also found it difficult to include the appropriate contents or practices in academic discourses. One can maintain even today that tendentious (sometimes even vehement) reservations are observable within the communities of the individual disciplines. It is mostly thanks to Rösing, Wicke and other contributors to the present volume that ‘popular music studies’, in its complete methodological and theoretical breadth, has been able to achieve its current status in today’s German-speaking world. In that world, as well as elsewhere, a no less important role has been played by the media, by economic and political framing conditions and by professional and fan-based journalism – at least in terms of social and economic acclamation for their cultural contents. Hence, it is no wonder that scientific analyses of popular music, seen as a nucleus of pop culture, were always already inflected by intellectual perspectives deriving from media, business, political science or advanced journalism. Nor is it surprising that musicology (under the influence of cultural science) only gradually opened itself up to an expanded analysis of pop music. It is quite strange to admit that to date there are only a very few German musicological researchers who adapted to the British critical musicology approach as it was introduced by Joseph Kerman in the 1980s, and specified by people like Susan McClary (1991), Derek Scott (2003), Lawrence Kramer (2006) and Stan Hawkins (2012). But some researchers of the younger generation calling themselves ‘popular musicologists’ do integrate these theoretical and methodological approaches in their own work, having read not only Theodor W. Adorno and Peter Wicke, but also Sara Cohen, Franco Fabbri, Simon Frith, Andrew Goodwin, Lawrence Grossberg, Dick Hebdige, Ann E. Kaplan, Richard Middleton, John Shepherd, Philip Tagg, Jason Toynbee, Sheila Whiteley and all the other influential key scholars who paved the way for research on popular music. Besides, there still seems to be a great divide (not only intergenerationally, but more as a sort of ‘belief’, ‘school’ or, at least, ‘bias’) inside musicologists’ understanding of ‘serious’ and ‘popular’ music in Austria, Switzerland and Germany. German ‘historical’ musicology still is focused mostly on highbrow music, such as Eurocentric classical, modernist and avant-garde music from the mid-twentieth century, as well as on jazz music. And they pretty much stick to notational approaches, or biographical and editorial work on ‘Kunstwerke’. On the one hand there is a kind of ‘systematical’ musicology that integrates empirical methodologies, sociological

6  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke and psychological topics, still sometimes not very common with the complexity of popular music’s cultures and characteristics. Their protagonists tend to be more open-minded toward cultural and media studies or critical musicology. On the other hand, there are a growing number of ethnomusicological researchers focusing on popular (world) music and inter/transcultural, inter/transnational, and inter/transdisciplinary contexts, too. Moreover, in these countries – like the UK and USA (Robert Christgau, Mark Fisher, Simon Frith, Greil Marcus, Ann Powers, Simon Reynolds, Jon Savage) – a very important influence on academic research on popular music has been intellectual criticism and journalism. Journalists like Roger Behrens, Martin Büsser, Diedrich Diederichsen, Clara Drechsler, Olaf Karnik, Hans Nieswandt, Tine Plesch, Mark Terkessidis and many others have been dealing with popular music and its contexts long before this topic has been established at academic institutions. Therefore, as the editors of this book, we do not focus on a single discipline or angle of vision but instead on the entire field of study and the specific challenges it poses. Following Douglas Kellner’s concept of a multiperspectival cultural studies (Kellner, 1995), focusing on “the three main music industries: recording, music publishing and live performance” (Jones, 2012: p.  10), its multiple texts and contexts, and realizing that in Austria, Switzerland and Germany, so many research from nearly all established disciplines have recently been done and constitute something like a field of research called popular music, media and culture studies, we have tried to collect authors from disciplines as different as musicology, media, cultural and gender studies, ethnology, philosophy, historical and literary studies, sociology and intellectual journalism to present their perspectives on ‘German’ popular music. We have thus asked the authors to approach their materials and the phenomena as closely as possible by applying a broad understanding of pop music culture, along with their respective disciplinary, interdisciplinary and (increasingly) transdisciplinary toolbox of theories and methods. In what follows – in this introduction as well as in the rest of the book – the editors understand German popular music to be that music being produced in Germanophone countries, even if the artists or producers were not born there and even if their productions are not in German. Here we are influenced by the analysis of global and local repertoires presented by Andreas Gebesmair (2008, 2009), among others. The current state of research on popular music at the institutional level presents itself thus: In Switzerland, Austria and Germany there are only a few university professorships that make direct reference to popular music in their names, and there are a few professorships at colleges of art and music academies. In this context, we will not be addressing the numerous options for private, commercial pop music training in the areas of production, performance or the music business, since such offerings do not commonly have a comprehensive research mission. In the meantime, one can find in the German-speaking countries a broad assortment of active researchers, all of them with diverse perspectives and competencies but also a commitment to researching various aspects of the global and local practice of pop music. Among their ranks are literary scholars and linguists,

A fragile kaleidoscope 7 sociologists and psychologists, media and communication scholars, ethnologists, gender researchers, experts in education, cultural studies practitioners, theologians and (ever more) economists. The contributing authors in this publication were chosen to represent these approaches and perspectives, even though not every methodological detail or theoretical discourse might be found on a limited number of pages per article. As a result, there are presently a number of professional societies involved in the study of popular music. And new divisions, sections and working groups are constantly being established. As Peter Wicke put it quite aptly and enthusiastically at the founding workshop of one of these sub-disciplines just a few years back (and in the presence of both editors of this volume): ‘Pop music can easily put up with more than one scholarly organization’. In accordance with the panoply of disciplines just named, one also finds in these groupings culturalscientific approaches alongside musicological, media studies or ethnomusicological ones. Yet unfortunately what is observed is too frequently little more than a juxtaposing of research activities. ‘Genuinely’ interdisciplinary or even transdisciplinary projects are still comparatively rare (cf. Burkhalter, Jacke & Passaro, 2012; Jacke & Passaro, 2014), as are comprehensive publication series which are transdisciplinary and transnational and in which diverging standpoints are discussed on equal footing. In the process, the still inherent-sounding distinction between musicology (in its systematic and historical forms), ethnomusicology, music pedagogy and ‘the rest of them’ is beginning to break down. In the end, pop music must be examined from multiple vantage points if it is to be understood in its full complexity. Put differently: we have to be conscious of the ‘gaps’ we are exposing ourselves to when we assume we are merely ‘observing’ music, sounds, images, performances, media coverage or lyrics of a band (cf. Middleton, 1993; Diederichsen, 2014). Clearly we do not expect that ‘popular music studies’ will become its own mainstream discipline, despite having become established at a certain level in Switzerland, Austria and Germany (in both research and teaching), and despite having launched larger international networks. It is to be concluded, nonetheless, that academic, cultural-political and educational institutions have opened themselves up to and displayed mounting interest in pop music and its contexts. In addition, this is clearly occurring because the interested parties themselves have grown up in pop: they are popular music and media-cultural natives. That may also explain why increasingly sympathetic encounters are taking place between academics with some practical experience and music practitioners with some academic background, thereby making possible findings that researchers and educators find compelling – and not only readers or students. The established Germanophone publication series have in recent years reflected some of the trends and priorities that we will now survey briefly without any pretence of objectivity or completeness. For starters, we have seen an intensified focus on the object of analysis at the beginning of the second decade of the twenty-first century, a development that takes on a variety of expressions. In the Germanophone academy, it alters between research primarily focused on musicology (e.g. Appen et al., 2015), intertextual analyses (e.g. Altrogge, 2000; Jost, 2012), ethnomusicological studies (e.g. Burkhalter, 2013; Mendívil, 2008),

8  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke postcolonial and other critical reflections and interventions (e.g. Adam et al., 2010; Behrens, 2003; Büsser, 1998; Holert & Terkessidis, 1996; Ismaiel-Wendt, 2011), research on stars and celebrities (e.g. Borgstedt, 2008; Jacke, 2004; Keller, 2008; Robertson-von Trotha, 2013) as well as analysis of the visualization of pop music in videos and on television (e.g. Keazor & Wübbena, 2005 and 2009; Neumann-Braun, 1999; Neumann-Braun & Mikos, 2006; Neumann-Braun, Schmidt  & Mai, 2003; Schmidt, Neumann-Braun  & Autenrieth, 2009). This publishing landscape is in turn enriched by an array of studies on scenes, styles, genres or individual phenomena. Furthermore, there have arisen several large and important sub-communities aligned with certain phenomena or theoretical approaches. In the German-speaking countries, the major emphases, indeed constants, within the discourses include metal studies (e.g. Bartosch, 2011; Elflein, 2010; Heesch  & Scott, 2016), hip-hop studies (e.g. Bock, Meier  & Süß, 2007; Güler Saied, 2013a; Rappe, 2010), sound studies (e.g. Bonz, 2015; Kleiner  & Szepanski, 2003; Schulze, 2008) and gender issues (e.g. Brüstle, 2015; Eismann, 2007; Mania et al., 2013; Strube, 2009; Villa et al., 2012). As might be expected, a larger role is being played by theories of meaning (e.g. Friedrich, 2010; Petras, 2011), the aesthetics of popular music (e.g. Appen, 2007; Fuhr, 2007), theories of pop culture (e.g. Bielefeldt, Dahmen & Großmann, 2008; Bonz, 2001 and 2002; Diederichsen, 2014; Hecken, 2007; Heidingsfelder, 2012; Huck & Zorn, 2007; Jacke, Ruchatz  & Zierold, 2011; Kleiner, 2006; Maase, 1997) or issues such as authenticity and performativity (e.g. Düllo, 2011; Helms & Phleps, 2013; Kleiner & Wilke, 2013). In addition, new emphases have emerged in recent years surrounding voice, history and globalization. While the studies on voice are specifically focused on early vocal recordings and singing styles (cf. Pfleiderer et al., 2015), or, for instance, on the voice in hip-hop (e.g. Hörner & Kautny, 2009; Rappe, 2010), a second emphasis has been on processes of canonization and writing history, along with historiographical problems (e.g. Geisthövel & Mrozek, 2014; Helms & Phleps, 2008 and 2014a; Mrozek, Geisthövel & Danyel, 2014). With respect to globalization, there is an abundance of works grounded in theories of postcoloniality, political power and the economy (e.g. Binas-Preisendörfer, 2010; Friedrichsen et al., 2004; Lange et al., 2013; Paulus & Winter, 2014; Reitsamer & Weinzierl, 2006). As a consequence of the institutionalizing of research in popular music, German-language introductions, manuals and methodological aids have also appeared. Some of the introductory works have been written for students in a particular university programme (Jacke, 2013a); others are more oriented toward the discipline as a whole (e.g. Appen, Grosch & Pfleiderer, 2014). The manuals that have appeared summarize theories of popular culture (e.g. Goer, Greif & Jacke, 2013; Hecken, 2009; Hügel, 2003; Schramm, 2009; Wicke, Ziegenrücker & Ziegenrücker, 2007) or combine methodological approaches (e.g. Heesch & Höpflinger, 2014; Hemming, 2016; Kleiner & Rappe, 2012; Warneken, 2006). Consequently, there are increasingly discussions on how to disseminate one’s multifaceted professional knowledge, as documented in symposia and publications (e.g. Ahlers, 2015; Binas-Preisendörfer, Bonz & Butler, 2014; Binas-Preisendörfer & Unseld, 2012).

A fragile kaleidoscope 9

Genres, scenes and (academic) styles Just as in a kaleidoscope light is polarized and consequently refracted, so too are there (productive) polarizations to be found in the chapters of this volume. Along with the possibilities conveyed for a diversity of genres and styles – of writing and thinking styles, for instance – this book sets out to emphasize features, make selections and convey impressions that may initially be fragmentary but nonetheless hopefully form a completed mosaic. However, it would not be honest if we failed to mention some of the significant cultural aspects of German popular music, which are clearly missing from this volume. Germany, Austria and Switzerland each have a varied landscape of multimillion-euro festivals, each of them associated with specific youth or musical cultures and their practices. The spectrum ranges from big reggae festivals (the ‘Summer Jam’) and hip-hop ones (the ‘Splash Festival’) to electronic festivals (‘Farbgefühle’, ‘Nature One’, ‘Open Air Frauenfeld’), major multigenre events (‘Rock am Ring’) and metal weekends (‘Wacken Open Air’). Unfortunately, the present volume does not analyze festival cultures, either sociologically or economically. All the same, there has been extensive work done on them in Germanophone scholarship examining sociological and economic aspects of the (live) music industry and advertising and public relations (e.g. Clement & Schusser, 2005; Flath & Klein, 2014; Gensch, Stöckler & Tschmuck, 2008; Tschmuck, 2003; Wang, 2013). Equally regrettable is that no part of any chapter is devoted to German reggae and dancehall culture, a music scene that is highly dynamic and has a large audience that crosses generational lines as well as its own parties, festivals and radio stations. It is a culture encompassing both sonic systems as well as artists who, like Gentleman or Seeed, are known far beyond Germanophone Europe. Germanlanguage studies on reggae or dancehall have concentrated thus far on musical aspects (Burkhart, 2015; Pfleiderer, 2006) but also on approaches to musicological journalism and postcoloniality (Helber, 2015; Karnik & Phlipps, 2007), while still others focus on fan cultures. We readily acknowledge that there are distinct types of phenomena (e.g. legal), scenes, genres, differentiations, pop music events and epochs that have not been adequately treated in the present collection. And while we are painfully aware of the fragmentary nature of such edited volumes, we know all too well the (at times) unpredictable dynamics of pop itself and of reflecting on pop in such a project. At the end of the day, the choice of themes was also determined quite plainly by which colleagues were working on which subjects, and by what kind of time and energy they had available for collaboration. The copious reference notes are thus intended to serve readers primarily as exemplary evidence; they represent a snapshot, not a fixed or comprehensive canon. The same thinking governs our general bibliography at the close of this volume. We hope that the many references to research undertaken by colleagues from Austria and Switzerland will (at least) put into perspective our reasons for focusing on German phenomena and research. By the same token, the book also betrays another blind spot in its presentation of work on DJ cultures and their reception (cf. Bonz, 2008; Poschardt, 1997).

10  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke Whereas electronic music and designated genres are represented in the current volume, there could have been more examples of recent research on the participants in this equally important and active music scene and sub-economy (cf. Lange et al., 2013), not to speak of DJ cultures’ aesthetic (self-)concepts or economic and social strategies (e.g. gender; cf. Reitsamer, 2013). Moreover, an early elaborated reception of critical, semiotic and postmodern theories has been practiced in intellectual forms of music journalism (e.g. in periodicals like De:Bug, Groove, norient.com, POP. Kultur & Kritik, Spex, skug and Testcard), long before debates were taking place on the (aforementioned) elements of popular music cultures within established academic forums. At an early point, these professional journals were the preferred site for negotiating gender discourses and other arguments concerning social capital, politics and power, urbanity, retromania, diaspora, hauntology, homophobia and so on. It can additionally be observed that some of the early protagonists of this (largely) journalistic work are themselves part of academe or have ‘arrived’ there. Here the parallels to the Anglo-American and international popular music studies are unmistakable. Furthermore, academic trends in German-speaking Europe have in the last decades clearly shifted toward empirical work. At conferences in that period, an emphasis could be discerned in the domain of quantitative methods, in which elaborate statistical procedures were used to address what at times seemed to be rather trivial questions. More recently, rich and profound insights have been garnered by means of qualitative research on extracts of popular music cultures, producing sociological findings based on cultural studies or results consistent with ethnological approaches and Clifford Geertz’s ‘thick descriptions’ (1987).

Phenomenology vs. chronology: structure of this book When considering German popular music, especially in the epoch following World War II, one is struck by the multiple internal struggles to be found throughout its production, distribution, reception and subsequent processing, i.e., the creation of new music and media offerings (see Schiller, 2016 and the contributions to Helms & Phleps, 2014b). We will leave it to others, however, to interpret whether these struggles – and especially their effects – among participants in Germanophone popular music can be directly interpreted as indicators of something like a ‘Swiss-German-Austrian pop music’ or even a ‘Swiss-German-Austrian mentality’. For such a categorization can have effects that are highly rigid or essentializing. It seems to us that the more important effects are those which arguably characterize many of the phenomena described here and which can be discussed in their relation to one another. The effect of internal conflict still seems to linger in all these cases. Particularly for the development of media and pop culture in post-war Germany – whatever specifics remain for Switzerland and Austria must still be subjected to further analysis – there is a demarcation from the fathers and mothers’ generation,

A fragile kaleidoscope 11 a longing for fun, pleasure and light-heartedness that is nonetheless accompanied by a will to deal with guilt for the crimes of the Nazis: The sites of yearning in pop songs or movies were far away and difficult to reach, but they set out lines of escape, making possible a deterritorialization that operated with vague ideas. [. . .] Everywhere one could find the same compulsions of a community that had not selected itself. That rupture which had split the generations right through the middle was sensually charged by the promises of pop, and the vague sense of non-belonging thus found a frame of reference. (Schneider, 2015: p. 19) Just as pop itself is centrally marked by an ambivalence – that it is ‘simply’ to be enjoyed or that it has to be observed precisely due to its complexity – so too does this double possibility in its array of variations seem to be a recurring object of fascination when it comes to projecting or playing with identities and nonidentities. The fact that these distinctions permeate the texts, images and sounds of pop music – at times diachronically and at others synchronically – once again shows its capacity for both shaping and reproducing society: • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

dictatorial Nazi Germany/democratic or democratized Germany pre-1989/post-1989 intelligentsia/proletariat establishment/youth conservatism/revolution education/entertainment culture GDR/FRG Eastern Bloc/Western Allies East/West Germany Anti-Americanisms/Americanisms nationalisms/internationalisms country/city scenes conformism/being different Bonn/Berlin Republic neo-conservative philistinism or new radicalism/multicultural open nation Germany (‘big brother’)/Switzerland and Austria . . .

Even today, the ruptures within this cultural network are often still being ‘answered’ in the form of pop musical processing. They are the sites where those issues, attitudes and (most of all) contradictions are manifested which the entire society has been negotiating thus far or which it will be negotiating from now on. This is not the place to judge whether we are focusing on something like a German, Swiss or Austrian perspective or whether the observations provide evidence of something

12  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke ‘typically German’ (in contrast to Switzerland and Austria). What this volume’s contributions confirm is that all levels of German popular music include moments of internal conflict, moments that sometimes lead to melancholy, subversion or aggression as well as to affirmation, irony or play. Or, in the words of the Germanists Maria Stehle and Corinna Kahnke, found in their introduction to the special issue on German pop in the Journal of Popular Music Studies: Although many of the performers engage with Germanness and German national identity on some level, provoking questions of language, history, and racist exclusion, musical and performative innovation transcend the boundaries of the nation state. Questions of European identities, specific urban (sub) cultures, transnational communities, and global marketing strategies move to the forefront. (Stehle & Kahnke, 2013: p. 125) Comparative and transcultural studies should investigate the extent to which such phenomena are actually specific to pop, or whether such events and developments in pop are processed so ambivalently in other countries and cultures. In the current sequencing of the contributions, the structure of the chapters is intended to provide some orientation. For the editors, it is imperative that these chapters give the same attention to mainstream phenomena and genres as they do to subcultural scenes and music. Our aim is that main- and substreams flow into and along one another in a variety of ways. Since they are in a process of continually changing (see Jacke, 2004; Weinzierl, 2000), interdisciplinary approaches have been deployed to research them. In the few publications on Germanophone popular music that are up-to-date albeit survey-like (e.g. Helms & Phleps, 2014b; Kruse, 2013; Schiller, 2016; Schneider, 2015; and the special issue on German pop of the Journal of Popular Music Studies, Volume 25, No. 2, June 2013), it is precisely the mainstream that is often omitted, along with its fan cultures, artists and production aesthetics and other particulars, even though its ambivalences and internal struggles have been so successfully marketed (as typically ‘German’, ‘Swiss’, or ‘Austrian’) and clearly identified. One only needs to recall (frequently) contradictory performances in the realm of hit songs, hip-hop or the case of Rammstein. By means of cross-references and discourse strands that permeate a number of texts, a web of narratives, discourses, references and appeals (see Schmidt, 2007) are revealed which are operative in both the pop music phenomena themselves and in their journalistic and scientific observations. At the outset and as an expansion on this introduction, Helmut Rösing and Peter Wicke, the founding fathers of Germanophone popular music research, look back specifically on the processes involved in the institutionalization of this research (Part I: Histories and foundations). At the same time, they focus on studies, narratives, and discourses between historical and systematic musicology and between music pedagogy and other approaches – especially those of cultural studies – in western and eastern Germany. Here they also make connections to the

A fragile kaleidoscope  13 international developments in popular music studies or ‘new’/critical musicology (see Middleton, 2000). The next part deals with those subjects and phenomena endemic to the sphere of artistic approaches or sonic experiments. Without becoming inaccessible, these are marked by occasional proximity to art music, the visual arts or literature (Part II: Arts and experiments). The (perhaps merely apparent) ambivalence between pop and art is particularly audible and visible in ‘cosmic music’, in the case of Kraftwerk, or when music is deployed in radio plays. As a consequence, a piece of cultural history is narrated using sounds, images and texts. So as not to give the impression that the Germanophone countries would solely or predominantly favour approaches oriented toward the (multimedia) arts, a representation of the mainstream repertoire comes next, along with a chronological sequence in conjunction with the phenomena of eurodance, hit songs and disco which have been successful time and again (retromania), as well as certain artists or groups such as Giorgio Moroder, Frank Farian, Modern Talking or Scorpions (Part III: Mainstreams and masses). What is meant here by ‘success’ are global sales numbers, media coverage and generally being inscribed into the Germanophone and international collective pop memory far beyond the genres that are relevant and hence only recently created. At the same time, it has received precious little attention from scholars. This subject complex of pop music mass phenomena is then followed by a set of similarly chronological contributions on niche cultures. At a subcultural, even anticultural level, these range from extreme tonal textures to intellectualized pop lyrics (Part IV: Niches and subcultures). These niches today still find ways to shock the mainstream and the establishment (noise music and industrial) while critiquing socio-political conditions (‘Hamburg School’) or constructing their own traditions (e.g. heavy metal and gothic). Yet to a degree they have also been pulled back into their own niches and have created their own alternative worlds, which encompass their music, their fans and dancers and so forth (e.g. gothic and country). The following part facilitates an in-depth insight into the abovementioned essential approaches to popular music and its practices. Together with its expressions of how censorship, feminism and gender (femininity, masculinity and queerness) are dealt with, here one also finds depictions of some of the main protagonists, in addition to influential scenes and their politics in the micro (songs), meso (scenes) and macro (society) realms of rap, indie, ‘Neue Deutsche Härte’ (Part V: Politics and gender). As already outlined above, and as a matter of course, this volume would be remiss not to include a chapter on the self-assurance (and self-reflection) of German popular music. While only the final article explicitly takes up the notion of ‘German-ness’, applying it to the example of a specific artist duo (DJ Paul van Dyk and singer Peter Heppner), the contributions of this chapter are intended to show just how – sometimes affirmatively, sometimes critically and subversively – language, staging, adaptation and other such things might be able to foster the shaping of an internal and external perception of a ‘we’ – or how these elements

14  Michael Ahlers and Christoph Jacke might instead go some way toward demonstrating the internal struggles alluded to above (Part VI: Germanness and otherness). Illustrations of such in-between spaces include: Nina Hagen as a successful artist between East and West, between celebrity and punk subculture; German new wave, the band Trio, and austropop between post punk, dadaism/minimalism and mass commercial success, schlager; hit songs, between amusement and social criticism; and lastly those bands whose language shifts between English, German or mixed forms of the two. In the subsequent part, the emphasis is on cities and the sounds electronically generated in and outside of them. Both of these are important variables within the German pop music space, and both of them are decisively powerful in precisely this interplay (Part VII: Electronic sounds and cities). Here again, stark ambivalences (e.g. Cologne and Berlin) can be identified, just as is the case with genres, processings and scenes. As a result, trademarks are being developed, incorporating sounds, designs and club cultures – sometimes in a planned manner and sometimes not – which in turn are perceived and have an effect internationally. Our brief expedition through German popular music is rounded off by a framing part. It presents recent as well as historical accounts on the economic and medial conditions and arrangements of regional popular music cultures. Here as well it strives to present features of and connections to international or transnational music and media industries, in tandem with their narratives and discourses (Part VIII: Media and industries). With this volume, we aim to make another English-language contribution to multi-perspectival systematic and historical analyses of the immensely complex field of Germanophone pop music and its contexts. It is a field which has just begun to enjoy greater (self-)assurance, both in scholarly and (even more) in journalistic terms, as in interviews (in the tradition of oral history) concerning punk music, DJ and club culture Berlin and Düsseldorf, and so forth. With the present collection, we would like to cultivate more robust reflection by scholars (and by interested fans) as well as a stronger capacity to link up with international discourses in popular music studies.

Acknowledgements The editors of this volume would like to thank once again the series editors Derek Scott, Stan Hawkins and Lori Burns for their support in undertaking this project and for their encouragement in retaining its diverse disciplinary and phenomenological perspectives. We are further grateful to Heidi Bishop of Ashgate, Taylor & Francis for her patience with our rather ‘un-German’ time scheduling. Our most important thanks of course go out to all the authors of this volume. We learned a great deal from their articles in discussions and revisions that were not without controversy or complexity. We are therefore especially grateful for their patience, and their inspiring contributions that appear here. Without the support and assistance of the ‘Writing Center for Academic English’, this book might never have been completed. In particular we are grateful to Micha Edlich and his colleagues there for copy-editing most of the articles. We

A fragile kaleidoscope 15 are further indebted to Melanie Ptatscheck, Madeleine Eggers and Bernd Westermann for their important work in revising and formatting the manuscript. The University of Paderborn and the Leuphana University of Lüneburg deserve our utmost appreciation for their financial and infrastructural support of this publication. Here we wish to express our gratitude to the presidiums and to the research service in Lüneburg. And – last but not least – we thank our students for continually inspiring us to poach the transnational ‘land of pop’ in a scholarly (and sometimes not so scholarly) manner, as well as to engage with them in argument and to live out pop music ambivalences with them while repeatedly encountering new things. Finally, the editors of this work wish to thank their families and friends. Without their understanding and support, publications such as this would never be possible. ‘Es wird immer weitergehen, Musik als Träger von Ideen’. (Kraftwerk, Techno Pop, 1986) Translation by David Brenner

Note 1 For a further understanding, see also Jacke (2004, 2013a).

2 Popular music studies in Germany From the origins to the 1990s Helmut Rösing

Prehistory If one assumes that it is the responsibility of music studies or musicology to take on all musical forms of the past and present, then the scientific examination of mainstream music, in short, popular music studies of the twentieth/twenty-first centuries, should be a significant subject area of this discipline. In Guido Adler’s extensive concept of an ‘entirety of musicology’ from 1885, he already names many helpful sciences for the systematic subarea that have a fundamental meaning for substantiated popular music studies. However, they are only mentioned with regard to the development of ‘the highest laws in the separate branches of sound art’. In other words: in the centre of musicology is the writing of music history, which is crucial for the conception, distribution and reception of art but not of popular music (cf. Adler, 1885; Schneider, 1993). Adler’s concept is more than 130 years old, and in that time it was modified and differentiated in various manners. Despite that, it can be stated that the discipline of musicology, which was and still is primarily practiced as historic musicology in the Federal Republic of Germany (cf. Hemming, Markuse, & Marx, 2000), has only tentatively accepted the current production of music until the 1990s. Even so, then the focus is on notated contemporary music that – as the sociologist Gerhard Schulze (1992: p. 125ff.) so succinctly described in his empirical research on event society – leads an existence as high (brow) culture that is increasingly only recognised by the societal elite. The importance of a scientifically founded examination of this ‘Hochmusik’ (‘music as high art’) as the object of analysis and critical reflection is not questioned here. Even so, with this understanding of science, informed by the art-music idiom, there should be at least one explanation (alongside multiple others) as to why the representatives of historic musicology in Germany tend to deal only peripherally with music of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that has not been notated in written form, as well as with pop and rock – and if they did, then using a pejorative label such as trivial music (cf. Dahlhaus, 1967; de la Motte-Haber, 1972). Due to this, no doubts can arise about where the real musical values, which are supposedly the sole reason why research in music is worth the effort, can be found in contrast to the stigmatised music genres without written notation and without claim to being an oeuvre

German popular music studies to the 1990s 17 (cf. Dauer, 1993). The ‘Handbook of Music in the 20th Century’, which is conceived as a series of twelve volumes, can be seen as symptomatic for this perception. Aside from containing a volume about jazz and musicals, it also holds one about rock and pop music. However, according to the editor Peter Wicke (2001: p. 7), this is far too little and is largely disproportionate to the meaning of this music for the social and cultural life in this century. The fact that the scientific examination of popular music from the twentieth century has barely taken place in musicology until the year 2000 must appear nonsensical for individuals outside this subject area. Even so, there was and is a certain opportunity in the broad exclusion of this music from the sanctioned work canon in musicology – irrespective of the predestined resulting problem concerning job training and workplaces. Popular music research has had to establish itself in niches, especially in music pedagogy, but also in courses such as (music) sociology, ethnology, psychology or cultural studies as well as media and communication studies, let alone systematic musicology, which has taken on all forms of music that have been passed down orally and by media since its beginnings. From this niche existence, a research concept inevitably arose, which reaches beyond the pure subject matter of music in a multidisciplinary, recipient-related and practically oriented approach. It was thus taken into account that approaching popular music is only partly possible via music-structural analyses, and that popular music itself must be explained as a component of communicative activities in specific connection to a person or society (cf. Rösing, 1994). What this means exactly is clarified in the following overview of research on music in the Federal Republic of Germany. It has to be a segmented view because I will first and foremost refer to scientific, or at least close to scientific, publications and thus exclude the entire area of the implementation of results in popular music research. Second, I only marginally try to accomplish a complete portrayal. To me, a systematisation of content and focal areas of research seemed more important than completeness. Third, I will only briefly mention the time after the German reunification. In the question of what is to be understood by popular music, I prefer an open interpretation of the term instead of a normative definition (cf. Rösing, 1996). The strange construct of the word ‘Popularmusik’ (popular music) was first found in the book ‘The Four World Ages of Music’ by Walter Wiora. He described the music that arose ‘in the world age of technology and global industry for “masses of listeners” ’ (1961: p. 125f.). Nevertheless the term ‘Popularmusik’ succeeded in being used in connection with scientific research. This was one reason why the Arbeitskreis Studium Populärer Musik (ASPM) in 2014 was renamed the Gesellschaft für Popularmusikforschung (GfPM: German Society for Popular Music Studies).

Jazz research and academisation The music situation in post-war Germany was defined by demand to catch up what had been missed. This especially affected art music in the entourage of the Second Viennese School and jazz starting from the post-swing era, but also the international production of schlager music of the Tin Pan Alley type as an alternative to

18  Helmut Rösing the entertainment music that was close to folk music, and so immensely infiltrated with ideology by the National Socialists. Large swing orchestras and star entertainers like Frank Sinatra were responsible for the distribution of this music. With its opulent sounds, it instantly stood for the economic prosperity of a nation that, at any rate, used chewing gum, Coca-Cola and blue jeans to foster the manifestation of a new attitude towards life. This was largely intensified in the mid-1950s by another music import from the States: rock‘n‘roll. With this white version of the black rhythm and blues, a musical idiom, which originated from an oral music culture and whose roots in blues and gospel are seen as a musical melting pot of Afro-American traditions (cf. van der Merve, 1989; Shuker, 1994), started to shape the music scene. Approaches to these other musical traditions began within jazz research shortly after Word War II. In 1958, the ethnologist and Africanist Alfons Michael Dauer first presented his foundational book on the heritage and development of jazz (cf. Hoffmann, 1998). On the first 40 pages, it contains an introduction to West African music, followed by 50 pages about Afro-American music and blues in North America before discussing the archaic and classic style of New Orleans and Chicago jazz. Despite the fact that the book provided significant impulses that set a benchmark for jazz research, it had to be a disappointment for any jazz enthusiast seeking more information because there was nothing to be found about the era of swing. This information gap was taken up by the ‘New Jazz Book’, which was published in 1959 by the broadcasting editor Joachim Ernst Berendt. It became a more successful bestseller than its predecessor, ‘The Jazz Book’ from 1953, and sustainably influenced the reception of jazz in the Federal Republic for two decades. The centralisation of depiction onto the big stars and the description of music styles based on categories borrowed from art music analysis caused a Eurocentric domestication of jazz understanding. This could only be adjusted towards a wider public in Germany through the publications of Ekkehard Jost, especially the ‘Social History of Jazz’, first published in 1982. At the beginning of the 1960s there also were early didactical attempts to include jazz in music lessons at schools of general education, for example by Walter Gieseler and Dietrich Schulz-Koehn in 1959 and Hermann Rauhe in 1962, furthermore with a social history focus by Hanns Werner Heister in 1983. It is undisputed that the scientific engagement with jazz in the Federal Republic of Germany could soon establish itself in the university domain. Especially the University of Gießen must be mentioned here, where jazz developed as a research focus besides systematic musicology. The International Society for Jazz Research, which was founded in 1969 and annually publishes the yearbook ‘Jazzresearch’ and the ‘Contributions to Jazz Research’ since its founding together with the Institute of Jazz Research in Graz, also contributed to the academisation of scientific engagement with the different styles of jazz. Nevertheless, it must be noted that the crucial research impulses and methodical, cultural-anthropological and ethnological interpretative approaches started from Anglo-American literature on improvised music (cf. Pfleiderer, 2002: p. 38).

German popular music studies to the 1990s 19

Schlager and critical theory Engaging with German schlager as a segment of popular music did not manage to garner the same appreciation. Even though none other than Theodor W. Adorno had already published early schlager analyses in the music pages of Anbruch in 1929 and thoroughly engaged with the sociological reasons for the deterioration of popular music in coherence with the ‘Princeton Radio Research Project’. In his essay ‘On Popular Music’ from 1941, and the second chapter of his ‘Introduction to Music Sociology’ from 1962, Adorno describes schlager as a social-psychological experimental arrangement to trigger compulsive behaviour and result in the maiming of consciousness. Gunnar Sonstevold and Kurt Blaukopf adopted this socio-critical approach in 1968, using the examples of eleven successful schlager songs from the years 1952 to 1962. What was verified was a regression of musicstructural means that can barely be surpassed, the specific utilisation of identityconstituting elements to console an allegedly lonely mass with mock idyll, in short: the reversal of the ‘art aura’ in a negative ‘schlager aura’. Adorno’s perspective was similar in many aspects to the music understanding, which was oriented around the (conventional) art music. With his critical theory and an emphatic truth concept, he produced sufficient arguments to create a feeling of verification amongst the representatives of historic musicology in their opposition to popular music as a subject of research. That it is not possible to come to terms with the phenomenon of schlager and the question of its wide acceptance amongst the audience from the art music perspective  – no matter how sociologically inflated  – becomes evident when approaching the phenomenon and its historic genesis from the object itself and without predetermined assessment criteria. Following the first popular science surveys by Walter Haas (1957), Siegfried Schmidt-Joos (1960) and Hans Christoph Worbs (1963) as well as the anthology ‘Schlager in Deutschland’ published in 1972 by Siegmund Helms, which held contributions to the analyses of popular music and the music market, and finally Burkhard Busse’s examination of production, distribution and reception of trivial literature using the example of German schlager (1976), the most diligent complete overview of Werner Mezger (1975) – tellingly developed at the Ludwig-Uhland-Institute of Traditions Research – and Dietrich Kayser’s (1975) linguistic methods of elaborate text analyses of German schlager must be mentioned. What is interesting about the text analysis of Kayser is the comparison of the most-used vocabulary in schlager songs in the Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic. Despite all politicalsocietal differences, this analysis resulted in a near-complete consensus. Hereby, scientifically founded statements from the 1960s and 70s, which were supplemented by substantial collection of material, exist about schlager songs, and their conditions of development, the music, the texts and the artists and thus provide a foundation for any new schlager research. Most importantly, the German schlager advanced to becoming a source for historians and cultural scientists in the research on ‘Zeitgeist’ and typical contemporary behaviour rituals. However, a large-scale project about ‘Politics and Societal

20  Helmut Rösing Value Change Reflected in Popular Music from 1946–1989’ (Schoenebeck, 1992) yielded results that were far less concrete than expected. Since the reception of schlager occurs very much associatively and selectively, text and music always act as mere triggers or projection space for messages that a listener has already internalised due to previous socialisation processes (cf. Rösing & Petersen, 2000: p. 56ff.). The consequence is that the received contents of such constant empty words such as love, luck, home, etc. and of stereotypical musical turns over the course of time change sustainably and are therefore difficult to interpret (see Helms, 2000). The music-immanent structure of schlager songs was mostly subject to the verdict of simplicity, even though Adorno already provided first clues in his work on evergreens that a music-structural analysis could be fruitful to comprehend the ‘quality that is hard to describe’ (Adorno, 1968: p. 45), which leads some schlager to success that survives trends and others to fail. After early interpretations of schlager that were oriented around the instruments of analysis from art music (cf. Bernhard Binkowski’s analysis of ‘White Roses from Athens’, 1962), analysis criteria suitable for schlager that can encompass the complexity of its mode of action in music, text and presentation were only developed in the past few years. Here, the exemplary analysis of Udo Jürgens’ schlager ‘Greek Wine’ by Harald Huber (2002) must be emphasised.

Research on youth cultures In his early book on schlager, Hans-Christoph Worbs also responded with considerable lack of understanding to rock’n’roll being the market leading teenage music of the second half of the 1950s. He was of the opinion that the deformation of language, restriction to the pure one and obtrusive repeating of phrases caused a relapse into primitive behaviour, which he illustrated in a report from the FAZ newspaper about a concert he saw in April 1958 where the ‘bawler’ Johnny Ray performed at the Sportpalast in Berlin: The racket became louder, girls in tight pants jumped on the benches squealing, soon the first beer bottles were flying, chairs followed and soon enough, there was crashing throughout the entire hall. The furniture was trampled amongst yelling [. . .]. Shortly the police appeared and were greeted with whistling. The truncheons were swung more symbolically than anything as they pushed the leather jackets and studded pants towards the exit [. . .]. (Worbs, 1963: p. 65ff.) Such an emancipation of traditional behaviour rituals when listening to music is an expression of a deeply rooted conflict of generations. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, youth have shaped their worlds with great intensity, and especially with and through music. Here, the ‘Wandervogel’ movement with its extensive repertoire of songs must be mentioned for the first decade of the century. In the beginning of the era of commercial and mass-media transmitted

German popular music studies to the 1990s 21 entertainment and dance music, however, there were no known productions or reproductions of such music through youth until well into the 1950s. This took place in greater measure after the beginnings of rock’n’roll in the 1960s and with decided utilisation of new means of production (e-instruments, amplifying and sound studio technology). This process of musical acquisition and change takes place in the era between mass-cultural precepts and individual action that refuses the institutionalised educational establishments for music. What began to define musical everyday life for younger people, who were singing, dancing and collecting records in the time of the ‘Wirtschaftswunder’ (Economic Miracle), was not noticed by the professional academic world for a long time. It was too fixated on the engagement with art music and its assessment based on aesthetic criteria. But aside from parents and other socialising authorities within childhood, music teachers at schools soon came to deal with this youth as well. Thus it was not surprising that the music pedagogy practice began to tackle the contents of pop and rock music of Afro-American and Anglo-American origin, since help from music studies, which had naturally been provided for the area of classical music, was not offered for the new pop and rock music. The first tentative approaches came about in the 1960s. After Friedrich Klausmeier had lectured on the influence of social factors, especially that of the mass medium radio and the musical behaviour of youth, at the ‘National School Music Week’ 1959 in Munich for the third time, he managed to present solid data on the socio-musical behaviour of youth at high schools and vocational schools in the Düsseldorf-Cologne area with his encompassing empirical work about ‘Youth and Music in the Technological Age’ in 1963. Based on the fact that youth listened to far more schlager, pop and beat than classical music, he deduced that music classes should be opened to popular music. Meaningful education should ‘first encourage the listener to admit to his tastes’ (Klausmeier, 1963: p. 201). A further, although hesitant, engagement (by today’s understanding of the lack of fundamental knowledge at the time) with this demand in the discourse was practiced during the ‘7th National School Music Week’ in Hanover with the general topic ‘The Influence of Technological Mediators on Music Education of Our Time’. Amongst others, Hermann Rauhe presented his analytical approach based on music- and text-structural primary components, sound-oriented secondary components and specific sound recording tertiary components (1968b). This structural-analytical approach was consistently expanded in the 1970s. Aside from the inclusion of typical market quaternary components in the analysis concept, Rauhe – sustainably inspired by works from Hans-Peter Reinecke (1974) that were oriented around communication theory – developed a communication matrix for popular music following the criteria environment / music / interpretation / media / recipient, in order to live up to the distinctive laws of popular music and not be forced to only state its structural meagre-ness compared with art music (cf. Rauhe, 1974). The work about ‘Beat – the Speechless Opposition’, which also appeared in its first edition in 1968, was published by the sociologist and pedagogist Dieter Baacke and became of major significance for the research done in the 1970s. It

22  Helmut Rösing contains current descriptions of the function of music in youth cultures and paves the way for a multi-factorial and societal understanding of music. In 1972, Baacke supplemented these explanations with a general sociological piece of work about youth and subculture. There, he references the study on the theory of subculture by the Viennese singer-songwriter and deviance researcher Rolf Schwendter (1971), which was published a year prior and still remains a fundamental study today. In this scientific context, the contribution to the discussion by Horst Menzel from 1969, titled ‘Youth and Attraction Music’ can be read as an oppositional draft from the perspective of a worried pedagogue. The 1970s brought an ‘explosion’ of the technical and pedagogical texts about popular music in the widest sense, not only about beat and rock but also about schlager, functional music, music in advertising and popular music in film and television. Beyond that, there is an abundance of empirical and experimental studies on listening behaviours and music consumption of youth. Aside from the aforementioned works of Hermann Rauhe that have a direct connection to the music-psychological studies based on the method of semantic differentials (cf. Schneider & Müllensiefen, 1999: p. 46f.), the authors that also require mentioning are: Dieter Zimmerschied (1971) with his didactic draft that proposes an integration of high-brow and low-brow music; Georg Rebscher (1973) with his comprehensive material collection for the teaching of popular music; and Dörte Hartwich-Wiechell (1974) with her pop music analyses, and her pop music didactics and methodology from 1975. Especially the works by Hartwich-Wiechell underline – no matter how meritorious they are as singular papers – the difficulty that adults face in approaching the current pop and rock music of the time using classic music socialisation. According to her analyses, the authors believed it to be possible to separate the pop and beat music of the 1960s into two groups: the K-Type, which is determined by its constant stylistic differentiation of musically immanent conditions, and the A-Type, with its music-structural reduction to the shortest pieces of its form and a regression of the melodic to a ‘stammered or screamed noise’ (Hartwich-Wiechell, 1974: p.  316). Furthermore, she believed that the increasingly popular adaption of high-brow music pieces used by groups such as Emerson, Lake and Palmer and Ekseption in the late 1960s could be interpreted as a signal for the decrease of inspiration in rock musicians. Such misjudgements were also so easily made because at this time, very little fundamental literature on rock and pop in German had been written, and professional literature in English was not acknowledged sufficiently. Still, at least there was a first encompassing depiction of pop and rock music in the Federal Republic published by Jochen Zimmer in 1973. As highlighted in the prologue, it follows a social-historical orientation in the framework of Marxist cultural theory and is, seen this way, in close vicinity to Konrad Boehmer’s dialectic and culture-critical outline about music and class society in the area of tension between ‘Row and Pop’ (1970). Maybe that was the reason why a much smaller audience received it than it deserved, since it contains good case studies of important rock groups such as the Beatles and Rolling Stones as well as founded statements about the large rock music festivals at the end of the 1960s. In the same year, 1973, the

German popular music studies to the 1990s  23 ‘Rock Lexicon’ by Siegfried Schmidt-Joos and Barry Graves also hit the market, and it was a popular science publication in the best sense. Additionally, a good alternative or rather supplement, the ‘Lexicon for Rock Music’, was published in 1978 by Tibor Kneif. In 1976, the transcription of a radio show that ran from 1973 to 1975 on Radio Bremen called ‘Roll over Beethoven’ was published as a history of popular music up until 1974 by the team of authors Kuhnke, Miller and Schulze from the ‘Popular Music Archives’: ‘A presentation of the production and consumption of popular music since the beginning of the nineteenth century, understood as expression of the ‘general societal development and the specific lifestyle’ (1976: p. 5). The ‘Rock Music Book’ published in 1977 by Wolfgang Sandner with eight contributions about aspects of history, aesthetics and production, produced new impulses. Here, the music studies researcher Tibor Kneif from Berlin was represented with three articles, of which at least two do not deny his previously cultivated focus in the area of music aesthetics. One of these articles is about ‘aesthetic’ as well as ‘non-aesthetic’ assessment criteria of rock music with rather vague remarks about rock music primary listeners and rock music alternative listeners from the classical area; another deals with the antithesis of rock and ‘high culture’ music. One of the more appropriate engagements with the specific laws of rock music came about in Kneif’s almost yearly publications ‘Lexicon Rock Music’ (1978), ‘Introduction to Rock Music’ (1979), ‘Rock in the 70s’ (1980) and ‘Rock Music. A Handbook for Critical Understanding’ (1982).

Specialisation A multitude of works from the 1970s deals with the social-psychological aspects of rock and pop music reception. Due to the methodological craft, the proximity to university research is the largest here: to sociology and psychology, more specifically to systematic musicology. Aside from the early psychometric studies of music reception amongst youth by Peter Brömse and Eberhard Kötter (1971), the national survey about music consumption and music education by Winfried Pape (1974), with the deflating results that popular music education at schools of general education is desired by the pupils but barely offered by the teachers, the experimental work by Ekkehard Jost about the social-psychological dimensions of popular music reception (1976) and Dörte Hartwich-Wiechell about the musical behaviour of youth (1977), the publications of the author team Dollase, Rüsenberg and Stollenwerk must be mentioned here. In 1974 the first scene-analysis ‘Rock People or the Questioned Scene’ that used data from field questionnaires was published, followed in 1978 by the investigations of the jazz audience and completed in 1986 through comparative interpretations of the visitor behaviour in various live concerts, with a stylistic range from classical and avant-garde, jazz and singer-songwriters, to rock and pop. The sociologist Florian Tennstedt also presented a fundamental paper about the processes of group dynamics in the micro-cosmos of a rock band in 1979. Using the example of the ‘Petards’ from Schrecksbach in North-Hessen, the rise and fall of the group is meticulously

24  Helmut Rösing traced, where ‘group’ is understood as a system of interpersonal relationships, and its dependency on the variables of family, region, school, shows, fans and media is shown. In his dissertation from 1979 about aesthetic behaviour in rock music, Rainer Niketta goes beyond that in finding a multitude of directly music-applied as well as socially dependent factors, which largely affect the evaluative reception of this music. Therefore, it becomes clear to what extent rock music styles must be seen and interpreted as being embedded in a complex field of activity with constant reciprocity between the production, communication and reception levels. At this time, rather dubious impulses for popular music studies are provided by the German Phono-Academy, which implemented the idea of assigning record prices for different areas of styles in popular music, in 1976. It published the ‘Lexicon Pop. A Vocabulary of Entertainment Music’ in 1977 to explain terms and position its contents, and just like the simultaneously submitted book ‘Pop Music – Art from Provocation’ by Siegfried Borris, it pointed out that it was primarily a matter of breaking the prejudice that entertainment music is non-music – as if that was even necessary following all the aforementioned publications. It can be asserted that the contributions in the six volumes of the magazine Rock Session published by the Rowohlt-Verlag between 1977 and 1982 are of a far more appropriate level, along with the music didactics about schlager by Karl-Jürgen Kemmelmeyer and Rolf Wehmeier (1976) and about popular music by Nils Knolle (1979), as well as the text analyses of rock songs by the literary scholar Werner Faulstich (1978), and not to forget the text-analytic engagement with the terms pop music and pop-art in the Freiburg music studies dissertation by Norbert J. Schneider (1978). With the development of an independent West German rock music scene in the late 1960s and into the 70s, first publications concerning this scene appeared in the ‘Lexicon of German Rock Groups and Artists’ by Günter Ehnert (1979) and the biography of Amon Düül, a music commune in the protest movement of the 60s by Ingeborg Schober (1979). What also becomes more current  – after the music critic Helmut Salzinger had already written an essay about ‘Rock Power or How Musical Is the Revolution?’ in 1972 – is the engagement with the political power of rock music; reminiscent of the volume compiled by Bernd Leuckert ‘Rock against the Right’ (1980) and the booklet by Antonius Holtmann and Wulf Dieter Lugert about rock and pop within the magazine Political Didactic (1981). Even traditional music studies were – after the publications concerning trivial music of the late 1960s – tentatively entering the discourse around popular music: this is signalled especially by the reports from the Institute for New Music and Music Upbringing in Darmstadt (cf. Brinkmann, 1978; Jost, 1984). The range of further topics that show clear affinity to popular music research and played an important role in the music-oriented scientific discourse of the 70s shall only be implied: functional music, music in advertising, film music, music market, cultural politics, rock music and popular music in the mass media of radio and television. Building on the foundation of what had been accomplished in the 1970s, the 1980s generated a new differentiation in almost all previously named areas and

German popular music studies to the 1990s 25 a clearer scientific specialisation in the disciplines – especially regarding the different styles of popular music. After the presentation of the German version of ‘Sociology of Rock’ by Simon Frith in 1981, they also mark a growing openness towards English texts and are characterised by the endeavour to institutionalise the different activities.

Institutions and associations In 1981, the Research Centre for Popular Music was introduced at Humboldt University Berlin, and under the direction of Peter Wicke it soon created working contacts with the British Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies and initiates ethnographic, cultural-anthropological, semiotic and semantic-symbolic research approaches in popular music research. The Institute for Didactics of Popular Music, founded by Wulf-Dieter Lugert and Volker Schütz, also started publishing its Green Booklets in 1981, which was a scientifically founded magazine for popular music in education. Around the same time, the German Rock Music Association started its work with its headquarters in Lüneburg, the attempt to establish a model of popular music at the Academy of Music Hamburg was talked about nationwide, the Institute for Pop Culture was founded as an institution of the state North-Rhine-Westphalia, specifically in Wuppertal, and the range of professional development training for teachers interested in jazz and rock music turned into a regular offer at the Academy of Remscheid. Parallel to that, the field of work on popular music was established in music teacher education programmes at more and more universities – especially Gießen, Kassel and Oldenburg, to name a few. And in the second half of the 1980s, the Institute for Jazz Research in Darmstadt was also inaugurated as a central research facility under the leadership of Wolfram Knauer. It contained one of the largest public jazz collections in Europe, had an extensive and globally utilised jazz bibliography and, aside from jazz newsletters, it published the ‘Darmstadt Contributions to Jazz Research’ every two years. The association Music from the Bottom, which was founded in 1988, must also be mentioned here. It had its headquarters in Hamburg (director: Werner Hinze), and had continually published announcements about street music, socially critical songs, resistance music and more since 1989, and had created an archive for music and social history. First and foremost, following the founding of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music and its first international conference in Amsterdam in 1981, a German working group was formed that held periodic conventions since 1984 and acted as a registered association (with its headquarters in Hamburg) after 1986, where it operated under the name Arbeitskreis Studium Populärer Musik; now the German Society for the Study of Popular Music (GfPM) and published the ‘Contributions to Popular Music Research’. The thematic range can be identified from the titles of the various numbers of these articles. It extends from folk music and popular music, from the Weimar period all the way to hip-hop, rap and techno, includes aspects of production (musicians, musical careers), distribution (broadcasting, mass media, music market) and reception (functions, effects and social-psychological phenomena),

26  Helmut Rösing as well as analyses (rock/pop/jazz musically and intrinsically examined) and the historic dimension (blues research, Afro-American ‘roots’, folk music traditions). Naturally, some fundamental publications must also be mentioned in this context. For the music pedagogic/didactic focus, these are the publications ‘Rock Music Didactics’ by Volker Schütz (1982), and the volumes ‘Rock Music’, ‘Pop Music and schlager’ as well as ‘Music in everyday life’ from the five-volume series ‘Music Education in Secondary Education’ by Kleinen, Klüppelholz & Lugert (1985) – for the historiography, see the dissertations ‘The Development of Rock Music from the Beginnings until Beat’ by Ansgar Jerrentrup (1981) and the volume ‘Pop Music – History, Function, Effect and Aesthetic’ by Reinhard Flender and Hermann Rauhe (1989). For the area of music criticism, the works of Diedrich Diederichsen, (especially together with D. Hebdige/O.-D. Marx the engagement with styles and methods of subculture in light of the theoretical background of dissidence theory, 1983). For the philosophical-psychological perspective, see the book ‘The Fascination of Rock Music’ by Helmut Voullième (1987); for the German rock music scene: the dissertation ‘DaDaDa – To Locate the Standpoint of the Neue Deutsche Welle’ by Winfried Longerich (1989); for the reception and social psychology era: the experimental studies about ‘Rock Music Phenomena’ by Liviu von Braha (1983), the large-scale study about ‘Listener Typologies’ by Klaus-Ernst Behne (1986), the empirical work about psycho-physiological and social-psychological functions of rock music concert-attendants, by Roland Hafen (1987, 1992); furthermore, the analysis of youth reception behaviour in connection with the social conditions and requirements by Renate Müller (1990) as well as (summarising) the overview articles about the social-psychological dimensions of functional music, film music, music in advertising as well as pop and rock in the mass media in ‘Music Psychology’ published by Bruhn, Oerter and Rösing (1997) – finally, for the musicians and their scene-environment, the survey by amateur rock musicians in the Dortmund area by Klaus Ebbecke and Piet Lüschper (1987) with a detailed list of motives to create music and, subsequently, the study containing empirical data on the situation of rock and pop music in the area North-Rhine-Westfalia by Rainer Niketta and Eva Volke (1994). What is characteristic for the 1990s is the further immersion and specialisation of popular music research in all the previously mentioned areas, such as studies on history (cf. Rauhut, 1993a; Faulstich, 1994; Poschardt, 1995), on nonEuropean countries (cf. Erlmann, 1991), on individual scenes (cf. Bubmann, 1990; Gruber, 1995; Stroh, 1994), styles (cf. Anz & Walder, 1995; Budde, 1997; Karrer, 1996) and musicians (cf. Diederichsen et al., 1993; Putschögl, 1993; Siepen, 1994), on sociological aspects (cf. Brand, 1993; Heberer, 1994), on youth work (cf. Nordmann & Heimann, 1994; Hill, 1996), general pedagogy (cf. Terhag, 1994, 1996) and social pedagogy (cf. Hering, 1993; Jantzer & Krieger, 1995), on aesthetic-philosophical and political questions (cf. Annas & Christoph, 1993; Jacob, 1993; Juhasz, 1995; Wicke  & Müller, 1995), on cultural marketing (cf. Graf, 1995; Lange, 1996) and new media, specifically technologies (cf. Reetze, 1992; Hausherr & Schönholzer, 1994). For the first time, a convention was hosted in 1993 at a West German musicological institute with the sole focus on popular

German popular music studies to the 1990s 27 music. It took place at the University of Cologne and is symptomatically not organised by the teaching staff but by the students to – according to the responsible individuals of the ‘8th International Student Symposium for Musicology’, Markus Heuger and Matthias Prell – ‘[stimulate] the engagement with aspects of the current music life that are neglected in university education’ (Heuger & Prell, 1995: p. 7).

Musical identities and reception Every meaningful scientific engagement with popular music happens in a field of relationships that the music is embedded in from its production to its reception. This circumstance is responsible for the difficulties and non-homogeneity of popular music studies as they occur in the German-speaking area. On the other hand, it is also a challenge that must be tackled with the appropriate construction of theories and the modelling of interdisciplinary assessment strategies. This should be accomplished at least marginally in the following. In his article about ‘Style and the Term of Style in Popular Music’ from 1998, Dirk Budde attempted to fit the different scientific perspectives on popular music into an open and, based on the requirements, expandable model, which was based on the ‘Four Functions Model’ published by Talcott Parsons in 1939 for discussion (cf. Parsons, 1986). The aspects of music (stylistic devices, style term), communication (message), market situation (power, money) and preferences (value connections) are contained in a matrix of reciprocal references and dynamic processes of influence. From this model it is possible to derive – in the field of these relationships – a fundamentally comprehensive theory of musical communication and action implementation from the production and distribution all the way to reception. According to this model, it is indeed evident that the mass of styles and substyles (‘stylistic devices’) in popular music rebels against every serious attempt of classification. However, exactly this is the best evidence for its liveliness and structural dynamics. At the same time, all these facets of style share the quality that it is about more than the difference of musical structures. Greater importance lies in the connection of these popular music styles and directions with clothes and outfits, gestures and expression, space and its presentation, worldviews, media and lifestyle (‘value connections’). Especially rock and pop music, being the preferred genre of youth, always led to the creation of new group scenes, even outside commercial absorption. It shapes everyday life of the younger generations and elevates it through the symbolic world of new sounds. It can therefore be seen as an important factor regarding identity formation and societal integration. Wherever music is played, it creates acoustically marked life worlds. These provide a goal for musical activities and a framework for music-centred lifestyles, meaning for individual and group-specific patterns of perception, sensation and behaviour in making music and listening to music, which are sustainably denoted by the categories of pleasure, distinction and life philosophy (cf. Rösing, 1998). The empirical-sociological description of musically shaped life worlds (e.g. Schulze, 1992) is nearly identical to the results of youth research (cf. Spengler, 1987;

28  Helmut Rösing Oerter & Montada, 1998, Chap. 4). Both of them suggest that music, meaning especially pop and rock music, usually holds more significance in the lives of youth than of adults. Music-related activity is often and almost forcibly constrained when entering a professional life or starting a family. However, in this constraint, one can also see the transition from a predominantly emotionally governed symbolic culture of youth to a culture of reality belonging to the professionally established and familial individuals. If one traces the fundamental steps of development and socialisation of a person, it becomes clear that the transition from childhood to youth occurs through their distancing from model individuals (e.g. the parents), and their music preferences. Through the alignment with the age group and the affiliation with peer groups, the search for identity in personal and social factors becomes the point of interest. This includes, concerning the dealings with music, the creation of their own acoustic spaces in which psychological activity unfolds, and in form of experimental activity used to understand their own boundaries and ranges, which flows into the individual’s identity and personality. The sustainable meaning of such music-based key events for the concept of one’s self and music tastes has recently been broken down by Andreas Kunz (1998) by conducting multiple interviews with people aged around thirty. Lasting musical tastes (‘preferences’) are developed between the ages of sixteen and twenty. They are both socially and individually founded and form a kind of consistent core of musical taste, which can nonetheless undergo multiple changes with increasing age (gaining new preferences and dislikes). It has always been of interest for sociologists and cultural studies scholars what reasons stand behind the fact that so many people are intensively musically active: as constant visitors to concerts or clubs, collectors of records and music accessories, as fans of certain stars and music groups, as amateur musicians with the option of becoming a professional one day. Roland Hafen (1998) has assembled a whole bunch of functions for the area of rock music. He differentiates between a more individual-physical and a situation-group dependent field of action. Quality and intensity of the physical sensation belong to the individual-physical field, based on the precept ‘joy is physical’. It includes the desire for rhythm, sound and volume, playing with the body, the wish for proximity to others and the exertion until exhaustion. The situation-oriented field of action is shaped by the demonstration of positions within a peer group (habitual behaviour), the articulation of attitudes (self-actualisation) and the demand for authenticity (truth of the message). Put differently: involvement (‘you are a part of the music’), group feeling (‘they all think like me’), arousal (‘this is good for my body’) and the elevation of reality through audible and visual symbolic codes all create a bundle of functions that fits perfectly in the self-actualisation milieus of youth (‘communication’). Nowadays, does this thoroughly hedonistic lust for self-actualisation through music stem only from wishful thinking, since it cannot realistically be fulfilled in our media-steered consumer society (‘power/market situation’)? This critical question must be asked. The dissertation about ‘Functions of Music in Modern Industrial Society’ by Paul Riggenbach (2000) demonstrates that heteronomy through mass media, cultural management and record monopolies, but also due

German popular music studies to the 1990s 29 to constant technological innovations, and the pressure to keep up as individual influences all areas of life more and more sustainably. The modern media society is suppressing privacy. Also in music, being a classic terrain to actualise a counter world, this heteronomy is perceived as increasingly oppressive. However, one can assume – and there is empirically founded proof of this – that media is not almighty, nor are members of sub-cultural milieus powerless. The musical media reality, which is constructed by the intermediary entities of radio, television and record industry, is still not so much consumed by the recipients but rather actively acquired individually. This is exactly what the agenda-setting theory does (cf. Eichhorn, 1996) as a model for musical judgement. Musical life worlds as an expression of concepts-of-self are communicated on the basis of the contents shown via the media. However, the acquisition and integration of these into the personal experience of each listener release creativity that stirs the need to shape and design new musical sub-scenes. This dynamic process of popular music activities can be roughly described as a race between generational and age-specific musical needs of individual people, and their media usurpation. The person-specific needs themselves are dependent on medially constructed trends. This is indicated by, for instance, the motive of social isolation that is central for youth subgroups and musical life worlds. If one analyses the (former) video-clip programs MTV and German music television like VIVA it is possible to find evidence to support the thesis that it is far less about the audio-visual reification of symbolic youth worlds and more about the construction of such worlds by adults (cf. Pape & Thomsen, 1996). In youth sub-scenes outside medial commercialisation – such as in techno subcultures – answers are also provided in the sense of a dialectic cycle (cf. Henninger, 1996). How large the discrepancy between actually existing musical life worlds and their medial labelling can be has been clarified by the rock music journalist Martin Büsser very descriptively using the example of techno and punk. Due to the media coverage it receives, from the mid-1990s onwards, punk is connected with the ‘Chaos Days’ in Hanover and techno with the ‘Love-Parade’ in Berlin. Such an ascription is entirely random and could have ended up quite differently. Therefore the attributes of good and bad, specifically affirmative and subversive regarding techno and punk, could be associated quite differently if one looks at the two diversely differentiated scenes and their music more closely (see Büsser, 1997). However, insiders often knowingly intend for misinterpretations or misconstructions to be made by outsiders. This aids not only the distinction of the scene from the mainstream but also the isolation from any kind of usurping media coverage and, most importantly, the creation of a group identity. The best recipe against medial as well as political and economic heteronomy is and always will be one’s own production of music, especially in those areas where the pressure is high: in the field of rock and pop music. This has already been shown in an analysis about the motives of music-making amongst amateur rock musicians mentioned above: In a study, conducted in the early 1980s in the wider area of Dortmund with 298 amateur rock musicians, it was shown that only in a very few cases was the desire to become a professional in the future the major

30  Helmut Rösing factor of their musical activity (see Ebben & Lüschper, 1987). Consequently, around 35 per cent of the questioned individuals asserted that they did not want to become involved in the dependencies of professional life in the music business because they enjoyed their freedom as amateurs. A study from Winter 1987/88 (cf. Rösing, 1988: p. 68), involving 48 amateur rock groups in the wider area of Kassel, found seven reasons for making music, which I will present in descending order: (1) because it is fun, (2) because it is our music, (3) because we do not want to consume passively but produce actively, (4) because it is a meaningful hobby, (5) because it creates and solidifies friendships, (6) because we want to entertain, (7) because one gains attention. Further empirical studies by Winfried Pape and Dietmar Pickert about amateur musicians in North-Hessen (1999: p.  196) and by Albrecht Schneider about infrastructure of popular music in Hamburg (2001: p. 188ff.) also named similar reasons. Despite all societal change processes, one can speak of a remarkable consistency of the main motivation to make music. Primarily, it remains the ‘passion to express oneself musically’ and to develop a sonorous vision of a ‘counter world’ that is an expression of individual lifestyles (see Klausmeier, 1978). The large financial expenditures demonstrate that not only pop and rock professionals but also amateurs invest in more ways than one to fulfil their dreams, in order to avoid falling behind regarding instruments, technology and public-address systems. This also goes for the invested time budget. As Jan Hemming and Günter Kleinen could determine in the frame of their research project ‘Career Beginnings of Musicians in Jazz, Rock and Pop. A Diary Study of School Bands’ in 1999, the talk about lax practice and work ethics largely does not apply. On average, 10–15 hours a week are used to practice alone and with the group. In this, there are different work methods with a difference in the time factor: the playing and improving of pieces takes up the largest percentage, and band practices take up over half of the time budget. Cause and motivation are further separated according to the criteria ‘personal activities’ and ‘externally directed activities’. Here, a balanced ratio between the two forms of activity is found. Fifty per cent of the individuals in the survey labelled the personal activities as being for fun and passion, emotional coping with external pressure and inspiration, while the other 50 per cent assigned them to routine work and instrument lessons. Regarding the band activity, however, around 75 per cent are externally motivated, with practice, preparation, and implementation of performances being the priority reasons for the activities. But especially with this band practice, which is often devalued as routine, band concepts are developed (‘stylistic devices’) that are a sonorous expression of demonstratively presented life worlds. The social pedagogue Burkhard Schäffer (1996) explained this in a differentiated manner using the example of six Berlin bands. According to him, the decision for or against a certain style is also always a decision for or against a certain clique or milieu. In the decision-making processes within a band, deliberate (intentional), habitual and non-reflected components that have been predetermined through socialisation often cut through. Beyond that, only

German popular music studies to the 1990s  31 after increased time of collaboration does the first stylistic experimental phase turn into a phase of self-reflection.

Conclusion The scientific engagement with popular music – and that should have been made clear by the descriptions of the ‘Four Functions Model’ above using the example of the criteria: youth life world and youth lifestyle, for the design of and dealings with rock music – forces the redefinition of the discipline of musicology as a subsection of cultural studies. In the general understanding of the humanities, culture has been and still is a synonym for creative endeavours in high culture. Everything that is branded with this seal enjoys a high rank in the assessment hierarchy. Such an understanding of culture that is oriented so closely around art and music inevitably leads to the devaluation or undervaluation of all those cultural forms that do not belong to those categories. However, musicology as cultural studies must include all those music genres that are neither notated in written form nor understood as oeuvre. Even so, this discipline overall is still far away from this stage at the beginning of the new millennium, despite all the previously mentioned research activities. This is primarily due to the fact that music is perceived as a mainly static, established (composed, notated) object instead of a complex system of activity within an individual-related and socio-cultural environment. With this perspective that is so focused on music-structural premises, one cannot do justice to the various facets of popular music in the twentieth and early twentyfirst centuries, and its functional, economic, technological and media positioning with the individual and his/her environment (cf. Rösing & Petersen, 2000: p. 9). Thus, it remains the same as has been stated by Georg Knepler about thirty-five years ago about the writing of music history through musicology: ‘Many music historical works [. . .] exempt almost entirely those types of music that are the definition of music for millions of people – entertainment and dance music, beat, jazz’ (Knepler, 1982: p. 17). One could exaggerate that popular music research in Germany – excluding jazz – could not establish itself until the beginning of the 2010s thanks to but despite the university discipline of musicology. Sadly, this means that in many of the aforementioned works the variable of music falls short – for which a psychologist, sociologist, media studies scholar, ethnologist etc. cannot be blamed. Especially here, musicology scholars are unequivocally needed, along with their cultural studies’ interdisciplinary network of current studies about otherness and difference, presentation and practice, urbanity, locality and globality, functionality, the media and corporality, discursivity, and textuality (see Erlmann, 1998) required to enrich the dimension of music that has come off badly so far. All of this is compliant with the leading research question of what meaning music holds in the context of these briefly named cultural processes, all the way to answering the question of if and how the sonorous material of music shows itself. So it must be hoped that the contextual and psychological threshold of inhibition, which

32  Helmut Rösing Hans-Peter Reinecke (1988) described in his article ‘Pop Music and Frightened Musicologists’ – using the example of musical everyday life reality in Berlin in the year 1865 – can be overcome soon with a direct regard of the present: The battle of priorities is in full swing. A sizable group wants popular music, which they deem to be ‘outskirts’, off the table. Sadly, what happens ‘musically’ nowadays is by and large constructed on others’ desks that do not belong to music studies experts but in the executive departments of large media and electronic companies or in the government, where the amount of musicology scholars can be counted on one hand. Here, one should ask why it is that way, why many musicology scholars are withholding from entering the dialogue or: are withheld. Surely not to be vicious but maybe because their tools are not sufficient when it comes to these unpleasant realities. It is a wide field to be discussing the horizon of disciplinary competence and an even wider field in which this horizon is precisely enlarged. (Reinecke, 1988: p. 12)

3 Looking east Popular music studies between theory and practice Peter Wicke

The beginning of popular music studies in the GDR In 1949, when the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) was founded on the occupied territory of the Western Allies in May and the German Democratic Republic (GDR) originated in the Soviet occupation zone in the following October, the dual nationality of Germany was sealed in the long term. Therewith, not only were two entirely different social, political, economic and cultural systems implemented on German soil, also science, academic teaching, and research were laid down on the basis of distinct principles and objectives until the German reunification in 1990. With the foundation of the Kulturbund zur demokratischen Erneuerung Deutschlands (Cultural Alliance for the Democratic Renewal of Germany) by exiled artists under the direction of the later first culture minister of the GDR, the poet Johannes R. Becher (1891–1958), in the Soviet occupation zone on 8 August 1945, it has already been made unmistakably clear in which direction the cultural life, including the educational institutions, would have to develop henceforth. One of the seven guiding principles of the founding manifesto is the ‘education of the nation and its youth in the spirit of humanism and against all reactionary, military conceptions’ (Kulturbund, 1946: p.  4). As from 1949, this was the foundation stone of an educational dictatorship, which was uncompromisingly enforced by the ruling unity party of the GDR at that time, the SED.1 It has also profoundly shaped the universities in the Eastern part of Germany, and especially the humanities were forced into a corset of ideological doctrines, which made a free development of science impossible. In the field of music, it happened that artists returning from exile, such as the composers Ernst Hermann Meyer (1905–1988) and Hanns Eisler (1898–1962), found that their time had come to introduce the nation to their own as well as the classical music, and regarded the re-education instruction, placed by the Soviet military administration, as a call to fight against popular music. However, as the nation did not let any authorities prescribe their musical preferences at any time – even the Nazis were powerless against young people’s jazz enthusiasm in the fascist Germany – such endeavours were marked by futility right from the start. The more evident this became, the more militant was the rhetoric, and the greater was the political effort to at least control the popular music when it was simply not possible to prevent it. Sentences

34  Peter Wicke like the following from one of the leading GDR musicologists, Georg Knepler, founding director of the music conservatory ‘Hanns Eisler’ in Eastern Berlin and from 1959 until 1970 professor of musicology at Humboldt University in Berlin, set the tone, with which the forms of popular music were handled in the GDR in the 1950s and 1960s. With respect to jazz, which was considered a synonym for commercial music as such regardless of its roots and forms of musical work, Knepler (1951) declared at the foundation meeting of the Association of Composers and Musicologists of the GDR: ‘This is music, which constitutes chaos, which is chaos, not only war preparation, but war itself. This is an attempt to smuggle war into the minds of people’. The fact that such sentences did not descend from the rows of anti-cultural political bureaucrats, but from scientists and artists with international reputation,2 gave them an even greater impact. Any kind of popular music study was, of course, out of the question under such circumstances. However, the reason why Georg Knepler is named in this text is because he was one of the few who revised their opinion in the 1950s and then, as a professor at Humboldt University in Eastern Berlin as well as after his retirement, became one of the pioneers and most important supporters of the scientific examination of popular music, to whom also the author of this text owes a lot. The termination of the popular music development in Germany, Austria, England and France of the nineteenth century, published in 1961 as part of Knepler’s monumental ‘Musikgeschichte des XIX. Jahrhunderts’ (Music History of the Nineteenth Century) under the heading ‘Splendour and Misery of the Civil Musical Life’, is still worth reading (cf. Knepler, 1961: p. 470ff.). Under the aegis of Knepler, the volume ‘Der Schlager’, emerged from a dissertation project, and written by Peter Czerny and Heinz P. Hofmann, came into being in the 1960s, which addresses an analysis of the German-speaking schlager music and its development since the last third of the nineteenth century on the basis of comprehensive material (cf. Czerny & Hofmann, 1968). However, the initially planned second volume has never been published, as both authors have made careers in the cultural-bureaucratic apparatus soon afterwards. It was also Knepler who encouraged the pioneering work by Lukas Richter (1969) about the ‘Gassenhauer’ of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and accepted it as a professorial dissertation. Since 1970, this postdoctoral thesis has been published in several editions, for the last time in Münster in 2004 (Richter, 2004).

Ideological premises Yet, works, striving for a serious reflection on popular music styles such as the remarkable publications by the East Berlin composer and musicologist Andrè Asriel (1966) on jazz or by the Dresden theologist Theo Lehmann (1965, 1966) on spiritual and blues, were very rare exceptions in the GDR’s academic activities until the 1970s, and avoided anything that had to do with current developments. If the popular, contemporary music was at all addressed, it was only under ideological premises, which had little to do with science. Such works either served the politico-ideological standards of the cultural-bureaucratic apparatus (cf. Ernst,

Looking east  35 1965) or they strived to cover the accomplishments in the ideological and musical education of the youth in particular with a methodologically highly questionable instrument (cf. e.g. Bachmann, 1972; Kunze, 1971). Moreover, the popular music, designated as ‘Tanz- und Unterhaltungsmusik’ (dance and entertainment music), operated under a conceptual construct, which was not only incapable of denying its educated middle-class origin, but which stayed, above all, completely empty in terms of content. Only part of it was due to the incompetence that was especially prevalent in the bureaucratic apparatuses. The discursive construction of empty words, remaining free of any denotative connection – rock music, for example, was then called ‘Jugendtanzmusik’ (youth dance music) in the official GDRGerman, the popular culture became ‘Unterhaltungskunst’ (entertaining arts) – had the governmental advantage of being filled completely arbitrarily, and according to political opportunity. What is defined as ‘Tanz- und Unterhaltungsmusik’, ‘Jugendtanzmusik’ or ‘Unterhaltungskunst’ was a decision of the cultural-bureaucratic apparatus, whereas everything else was countered as ‘Unkultur’ (lack of culture). Consequently, the academic literature of the GDR during those years, apart from the outlined exceptions, is characterised by a bizarre fictionality. What was then described as ‘socialistic dance and entertainment music’ was non-existent, and what was there was mostly not even mentioned (cf. e.g. Bachmann, 1967). However, the real music scene in the GDR remained almost unaffected by all that. Although under different circumstances, it occurred more or less as an analogue to the musical life of the Federal Republic, with the only difference being that the medial reflection was missing due to the fact that the media, as the SED’s instrument of power, was bound to a propagandistic function strictly orienting music production towards ideological principles. However, that did not change the fact that even in the GDR rock’n’roll bands toured the country since the mid1950s, that a series of events under the slogan ‘Jazz & Lyric’ with more than a hundred parties offered a platform to jazz as from 1963, which was frowned upon as an expression of Americanism and musical warmongering, that the first beat music groups emerged in 1958, which finally got rock music off the ground in the GDR in the second half of the 1960s. In the field of pop songs, referred to as schlager in the German-speaking area, parallels between West and East Germany were particularly pronounced. There were even cases, which should never have happened according to the eagerly propagated self-conception of the politicalbureaucratic apparatus and in the Cold War of the systems, namely cross-border cover versions from songs in both directions as early as the 1950s. If one also bears in mind the international pop music scene back in the day, which did not pass the GDR thanks to the presence of West German media, US organisations such as the popular ‘Radio in the American Sector’ of Berlin (RIAS-Berlin) as well as the ‘American Forces Network’ (AFN), and the relevant programmes of the ‘British Forces Broadcasting Services’ (BFBS) or ‘Radio Luxembourg’, even if the corresponding discs were at least officially not for sale, then it becomes clear how unworldly and unrealistic both the cultural policy of the SED and its

36  Peter Wicke vassals operated in academic life. That means that the field of research was in place, the only thing lacking was the research itself.

Theoretical frameworks At the beginning of the 1970s, a stage of liberalisation started in the GDR’s cultural sector, leading at least to some extent to the acknowledgement of the current social and cultural realities and granting even rock music – until then, mistrusted and occasionally even prohibited as an unauthorised cultural import from the West – the state’s attention and support. This has also left its mark on the academic activities without principally changing the ignorance of musicology towards the popular music. This music evaded the methodological instrument of historical and systematic musicology, which was also considered to be sacrosanct in the GDR despite the commitment to Marxism, by linking social, economic, technological and cultural issues. Solely at Berlin Humboldt University, Knepler’s reasoned approach to take the ‘musical conditions’, shaped by social, economic and cultural factors, into account instead of only considering the ‘works’ and thus the connection between social functions and musical characteristics, was taken up and then expanded to popular music of the present. In the journal he presides over, ‘Beiträge zur Musikwissenschaft’ (Contributions to Musicology), a first fundamental essay, was published in 1975, which tried to provide popular music studies with a theoretical framework – irrespective of the still controversial political implications – and described this music as a sound-mediated cultural practice at the intersection of social, technological and economic processes with its own intrinsic aesthetic, anchored in this hybrid network (Wicke, 1975). In the same context, a discussion of music analytical problems followed three years later using the example of a rock song analysis (see Wicke, 1978), which dealt with a limitation of the concept of music that extrapolated from classically romantic music tradition. Both essays emerged in the context of the author’s dissertation, being established between cultural science, musicology, sociology and aesthetics and conceiving a theoretical approach to the contemporary forms of popular music exemplified by the song ‘A Day in the Life’ from the Sgt. Pepper album of the Beatles (Wicke, 1980). Although it was accepted by Humboldt University in 1980, its publication in printed form was still denied. It failed due to an alliance between conservative musicologists who declined the endeavour because it was regarded as ‘foreign to the discipline’, and could be assigned to neither the systematic nor historical musicology approaches. This alliance mobilised the political-bureaucratic apparatus and refused the permission to print with the flimsy standard justification of lacking ‘class loyalty’. The consequences of this procedure, which was largely scandalised in the GDR back then, have influenced popular music studies, which were rooted in the Eastern part of Germany, right up to the present day. In terms of academic strategy, the only answer to such a political instrumentalisation of divergences in the theoretical positions could be to escape from the literally disciplining seizure of academic disciplines like musicology; by consequently

Looking east  37 aligning studies with a transdisciplinary approach, which remained institutionally in an academic intermediate area. This, in turn, could only be achieved in the GDR, if a certain unassailability was at least established by the greatest visibility – there is nothing the political-bureaucratic apparatus is more afraid of than a public debate. However, this could only be reached by an appropriate practical relevance of the research. If the public’s attention should be gained, the research would have to leave the ghetto of the academic field. The legitimisation of the research itself could only emerge from the international academic network, as even the GDR officials found it difficult to ignore its authority despite all the political and ideological reservations. The developed theoretical model, striving to comprehend the specifics of popular music with regard to its sound at the intersection of social, economic, technological and cultural processes, was very close to the approach that was created under the direction of Stuart Hall at the British Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) in 1968, and caused a sensation as ‘cultural studies’ at that time. There have already been contacts and exchanges with Paul Willis in particular, whose dissertation ‘Profane Culture’ (Willis, 1978), developed in 1972, provided important suggestions. However, the organisational form as well as the working method of the CCCS proved to be the ideal model for the development of popular music studies in the GDR. As a student initiative, and thus not preventable by the political bureaucracy at first, the Popular Music Research Centre3 arose at Humboldt University in East Berlin in 1981, which displayed popular music studies as a theoretically and methodically autonomous field of research by organising meetings and conferences, by regularly publishing position papers along the lines of the working papers of the CCCS and by arranging public series of lectures with an international line-up. Between 1981 and 1989, the lecture series were held by, among others, Alf Björnberg (Sweden), Robert Burnett (Sweden/Canada), Philip Donner (Finland), Simon Frith (UK), Johan Fornäs (Sweden), Reebee Garofalo (USA), Lawrence Grossberg (USA), Charles Hamm (USA), Dave Harker (UK), Charles Keil (USA), Vesa Kurkela (Finland), Jan Ling (Sweden), Richard Middleton (UK), Deanna M. Robinson (USA), Keith Roe (Sweden), Paul Rutten (the Netherlands), John Shepherd (Canada), Will Straw (Canada), StigMagnus Thorsén (Sweden), Philipp Tagg (Sweden/UK), Roger Wallis (Sweden/ UK) and Paul Willis (UK). Which meant that a close connection was established with international scientific developments. A circumstance, which proved to be fortunate, was the foundation of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM) in 1981, since it evoked a network that delivered the necessary international contacts virtually ‘free to the door’. In the GDR, this unorthodox institutionalisation of popular music studies remained nearly untouched not least because of a peculiarity which was not envisaged in the institutional structure of the GDR’s academic life and thus did not encounter any direct control mechanisms. The Popular Music Research Centre was commercially organised. That is why it not only remained largely autarchic in its activities, but was also de facto inviolable considering the chronically foreign currency shortage in the GDR thanks to its international study programmes, an offer of study visits on a

38  Peter Wicke commercial basis and an annual US dollar-turnover of a five- to six-digit range at the end of the 1980s. The research activity was primarily based on graduations with both in-house working papers (FPM publications), following the example of the CCCS’s ‘Stencilled Working Papers’, and the choice of paper-bound supplements in a professional journal called Unterhaltungskunst (despite the name a pure industry magazine), making the work public in the greatest possible manner. This led, not least, to corresponding feedback from practitioners, musicians, media and people responsible for music in state institutions of the GDR. The research itself followed five different, but related theoretical and thematic axes. Central point of focus was the elaboration of a theoretical concept as a precondition for everything else, whose foundations were laid with the herein-mentioned articles of the 1970s and the dissertation written by the author. Similar to British Cultural Studies, it was conceptualised on a cultural-analytical basis. Likewise, it addressed the conflict with methodological dogmas by a radical interdisciplinary, better not disciplinary, approach that made it possible to discover the constitutes of cultural practices, generating structural meanings, and values within comprehensive social, political and ideological circumstances with the only differences that here, sonorous artefacts – pop songs – are the central medium for conveyance. The key question here was and still is in which way these sonorous artefacts are constituted as music or popular music in different cultures and subcultures respectively, which can only be answered by considering it from different theoretical and methodical perspectives. Instead of presupposing popular music or one of its variants as the research subject, it was more important, already at the beginning, to reconstruct in which way the sound designs, being generated in the cultural and subcultural contexts, function as music in the everyday lives of their listeners, and how the different forms of sound conversely shape the architecture of the daily routine. As this happens under respective specific medial and technological premises and manifests itself in cultural values and structures of meaning, which are bound to sonorous characteristics of music, a concept is therefore required, which does not reduce music to sounding entities on the one hand, but which is able to describe social, economic, technological and media processes in their phonetic specifics on the other hand. This ties in with the concept called ‘musikalische Produktivkräfte’ (musical productive forces) that was developed by Theodor W. Adorno (1932, 2001) in his early writings and that conceives both the technological and economic aspects of the music production as part of the musical material itself. The theoretical guidelines were extended in the following years (see Wicke, 1981a, 1982b, 1983b, 1985a, 1987b, 1987c, 1989d), published even outside of the German-speaking area (Wicke, 1982b, 1983a, 1985a, 1985b, 1998: p. 5e, 1991c, 2004a) and published in book form in 1987 (Wicke, 1987c). The extension by a historiographical dimension took place in 1984 (Wicke, 1984), followed by a specific sound-aesthetic perspective in 1985 (Wicke, 1985d). The core, however, remained an understanding of popular music as a hybrid connected cultural practice, which is conveyed by a respective specific pattern of sound. This comprised the development of an adequate terminology, whereby the term

Looking east  39 ‘popularity’ in particular – even in its historicity as a discursive constituent of the cultural-musical field  – was given a central place (see Bloss, 1990; Wicke, 1987b). The discussion of the commodity character of music in commercially organised music cultures, which has hardly advanced since the Frankfurt School, was of particular theoretical and methodical importance. Now, the objective was to transfer it into a form of music-economic thinking, which lives up to the tight interlocking of economic and creative processes in popular music (cf. Kriese, 1988, 1989b). A second research axis draws attention to the institutional infrastructures of music processes from both a theoretical-methodological and an empirical-analytical point of view. Here, studies were established which focused on the institutionalisation of musical creativity in the apparatuses of commercial music production (cf. Jereczinsky, 1988; Penzel, 1986, 1989). The confrontation with mass media and media concepts was naturally centre stage (cf. Engelmann, 1985; Görnandt, 1989). A considerable focus was placed on radio broadcasting as a medium of music communication in theoretical and historical terms as well as in its GDRspecific manifestation. The function, organisation, broadcasting concept and effect of GDR radio’s hit parades (cf. Richter, 1989), the broadcast-specific use of music (cf. Bertram, 1988) or the production-aesthetic and reception-specific particularities of the medium of radio (cf. Jereczinsky & Frohn, 1987, 1988) were at the centre of the analysis. In addition to media-specific studies, the general theoretical analysis of the music industry in its international and GDR-specific form is equally covered here (cf. Wicke, 1988a, 1989b, 1990b). Consequently, the cultural globalisation process, as a constitution for music development, came to the fore as well (cf. Kriese, 1989a). A third axis, developed in close cooperation with the Central Institute for Youth Research and the Department for Sociological Research on the radio of the GDR, which was involved in the UNESCO-supported International Communication and Youth Cultural Consortium (ICCYC) – an international research network, pursuing the impact of globalisation on music and youth culture on behalf of the UNESCO (cf. Robinson, 1991) – was composed of studies on the social use of popular music and thus on the values and meaning constructions conveyed by pop music. Owing to the media scientist Lothar Bisky of the Central Institute for Youth Research, findings of the empirical analysis of both cultural mass processes (cf. Bisky, 1982b) and the structure of the youth’s music and TV reception (Bisky, 1982a; Bisky & Wiedemann, 1982) were produced at the beginning of the 1980s, on which further studies could be built. The same applies to the publications of the sociologist Peter Warnecke (1983, 1986) from the Department for Sociological Research on the radio of the GDR, who did not only focus on the use of broadcasting with regard to the youth’s music reception but also on their musical daily routine. Studies which were more music related by distilling, for example, the decisive cultural values in dealing with music from an analysis of a popular GDR rock band’s fan mail (cf. Voos, 1985a, 1985b) or by theoretically modelling the youth cultural conditions for the adolescents’ music reception in the GDR (cf. Schmidt, 1985) were then able to follow up on this. The first ethnographical

40  Peter Wicke research was dedicated to the study of dance events. It interviewed the young visitors of such festivities as well as the musicians and DJs on their values and behavioural preferences with the aid of standardised interviews and a questionnaire analysis, as a means to investigate popular music as cultural practice (cf. Strulick & Meyer, 1983). However, even cross-sectional studies, representing the use of popular music by adolescents both quantitatively and qualitatively, arose in this context (cf. Felber, 1991). The fourth axis of the research was dedicated to the materiality of popular music in its phonetic, visual and performative diversity. Studies on the different styles and playing techniques of rock music (cf. Wicke, 1987a, 1987c) emerged, though often connected to corresponding theoretical-methodological reflections on the development of appropriate analytical instruments like those presented in Peter Zocher’s (1990) methodological study on heavy metal in the GDR, in the cartography of heavy metal sound forms compiled by Uwe Baumgarten or in the analysis of heavy metal bands’ gestural repertory by Susanne Binas (1989). The engagement with the visual dimensions of popular music received a lot of attention because it offered a way to discover the acoustic-visual synthesis processes deriving from the normative musical concept of the classical-romantic tradition, shaping the academic musicology as a dominant dispositif down to the present day. This applied to works on music videos (cf. Vater, 1987; Wagner, 1988; Wicke, 1988b, 1989c) and cover design (cf. Hartmann, 1988, 1990) and to the study on the performance and setting of rock concerts (cf. Hoffmann & Mischke, 1987). On a theoretical level, it primarily concerned the examination of aesthetic standards and stereotypes (cf. Baumgartner, 1988) as well as the cultural symbolic associated with the types of popular music (cf. Lehmann, 1988; Wicke, 1990a). In the volume ‘Rock Music: Culture – Aesthetics – Sociology’, published in 1990 by Cambridge University Press, in Russian one year later, in Chinese in 2000 and in Korean in 2010, the central theoretical positions are summarised that guide all four axes (cf. Wicke, 1990f, 1991c, 2000c, 2010c). The ‘Handbuch der populären Musik’ (Handbook of Popular Music), which was simultaneously published in the East and West of Germany in 1985, and from which several updated and revised reprints have derived since then – the last one in 2008 – was the first lexically compiled overview of popular music in all its historical and contemporary manifestations and technical, economic, cultural as well as musical dimensions (cf. Wicke & Ziegenrücker, 1985 et seq.). This attempt was carried on within the scope of the international project ‘Encyclopaedia of the Popular Music of the World’ (Shepherd et al., 2003). A last emphasis, possessing the biggest practical relevance and efficiency, is laid on the documentation and review of music development in the GDR. In addition to the discographic documentation (cf. Rauhut & Friedrich, 1987, 1988a, 1988b, 1988c), finalised and completed in 1999, studies were paramount which dealt with the different musical and stylistic types of GDR rock music (cf. Baumgartner, Binas & Zocher, 1989; Bloss, 1984; Gerlach, 1981; Wicke, 1979, 1981b, 1982a, 1989a; Zocher, 1988); the works by Michael Rauhut should be named in particular. He was the one who drove the line of research forward in the 1990s

Looking east 41 and 2000s by means of a string of strong publications (cf. Rauhut, 1989, 1993a, 1993b, 2005, 2011; Rauhut & Kochan, 2004). This also included the systematic review of the international influences on the development of music in the GDR, like the impact of Edward Larkey (by now University of Maryland, USA), who realised, back then, a dissertation project at Humboldt University on the influence of US rock music on cultural policies and development in the GDR (1986) and who has been pursuing this subject to this day (2007). In 1988, the country’s musicians initiated a comprehensive empirical analysis of their working and living conditions in the GDR – a little marginal with regard to its theoretical relevance but of vital importance at that time and with the greatest conceivable impact on the public – in order to document the desolate and increasingly unbearable conditions (cf. Mischke & Hoffmann, 1988). The fact that the GDR authorities withdrew the study as fast as possible has generated even more attention.

Research projects and internationalisation In the 1980s, there were also other GDR universities that pursued a series of accompanying research projects, which, however, remained individual projects. At the Pädagogische Hochschule Potsdam (Teacher Training College in Potsdam) in 1983, Jürgen Heiß submitted a PhD thesis on the correlation between rock music and social movements in the USA, which concerned the influence of the American civil rights movement on rock music and its repercussion on the civil rights campaign. The cultural studies produced multiple works theoretically reflecting discotheques, which were new in the GDR at that time (cf. Hansen, 1984; Lehmann, 1983). The highly commendable works on jazz by the Leipzig cultural scientist Bert Noglik belonged to such individual projects as well (cf. Noglik, 1986, 1990; Noglik & Lindner, 1979). Popular music has experienced a tremendous growth in the course of the 1980s as a topic of student diploma graduation theses. An overview, being published in 1986, lists more than 300 relevant works, which arose at universities and other third-level institutions of the GDR, among them, more than 70 emerged in the environment of the research centre of Humboldt University (cf. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 1987). The end of this development was marked by a conference conducted in cooperation with several partners at home and abroad, including the European Music Office in Brussels, and Tony Hollingsworth, producer of a series of the biggest charity rock events in the 1980s. This conference gathered scientists and representatives of media and music industries from over thirty countries under the slogan ‘Looking East’ for a fact-finding in autumn 1989. Officially, the intention was to test the practical relevance of science – popular music studies as well as cultural and media studies – by discussing their outcome with the creators of the theorised and analysed phenomena, the representatives of the media and music industry from all over the world. But the unspoken main purpose was to provide a platform for personal contacts between interested partners from Western Europe and overseas and grassroots initiatives like subcultural projects, underground labels, music co-operations, etc., which had developed everywhere in Eastern Europe. Either

42  Peter Wicke the direct partnerships or at least the attention in the West, so they calculated, could bestow them with the freedom they needed irrespective of the ideological barriers that still seemed unalterable. The opening paper on the subject ‘Perspectives, Possibilities and Problems in the Development of the Music Market in Eastern European Countries’ (Wicke, 1990c) delivered a first summary of the situation of popular music in Eastern Europe by taking a theoretical perspective with regard to the ‘new media’ – a term used in the discussion of the cultural consequences evoked by the CD, audio cassette, video and digital audio tape at that time. However, the more than 1500 participants of the conference were unplanned victims of totally different happenings. On the day of the conference opening, 5 November 1989, the government of the GDR resigned en bloc; the announcement of the fall of the Berlin Wall barged in during the final discussion on 9 November 1989. The world was different afterwards. The publication of the actually planned conference proceedings did not take place then.

Reunification and reorganisation Owing to Germany’s reunification, achieved through the GDR’s accession to the Federal Republic of Germany, everything changed for the Popular Music Research Centre at first. In the ‘acceding territory’, as the East of Germany was named, the employment contracts of all state institutions of the former GDR, including the universities, were terminated literally overnight due to the reunification being executed on 3 October 1990. At the research centre, the director and six additional employees were affected. The universities’ reorganisation on the legal basis of the FRG meant that the musicologists of the GDR universities were replaced – apart from very few exceptions – by representatives of the academic field from the West of Germany, and were then geared to the orthodoxy of the historical and systematic musicology without regard to the existing institutional structures and grown research traditions. It required the intervention of the (West German) Bundesverband der Phonographischen Industrie (Federation of the Phonographic Industry) to retain popular music research at Humboldt University. As the first and only university in Germany, Humboldt University received a ‘Teaching Chair in the Theory and History of Popular Music’, which was assigned to the founder and former director of the research centre after a worldwide call for tenders. The research centre itself, which did not remain inactive, could thus be continued on an independent basis and economically nearly as autarchic as before. In order to face the challenge of the research field’s supposed non-existence, with which the orthodoxy of the historical and systematic musicology in the structural planning for the newly developed musicological institute was legitimised, a volume containing twenty of the most important contributions of international popular music studies was published in German translation in 1991 (cf. Mayer, 1991), which included, among others, articles by Charles Hamm (1991), Antoine Hennion (1991), Simon Frith (1991), John Blacking (1991), Chris Cutler (1991), Richard Middleton (1991), John Shepherd (1991) and Gust de Meyer (1991). Under the slogan ‘Bausteine zu einer Theorie der populären Musik’ (Theoretical

Looking east  43 Building Blocks of Popular Music Theory), editor Günther Mayer (1991) introductorily summarised the theoretical premises and methodological paradigms of the research field, just as it presented itself at the beginning of the 1990s. The articles in this volume demonstrated that popular music studies could be seen neither as an academic end-in-itself nor as exercise of the methodology of systematic musicology on the subject matter of popular music. The objective was and still is to develop a theoretical and methodological protocol – regardless of the localisation in the academic field – which is suitable for the social, cultural, technological, economic, aesthetic and phonetic questions that this type of musical practices raise. At best, the answers given should then also sustain in this practice. The new beginning was again marked by a conference, the Sixth International Conference on Popular Music Studies of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM), which was organised by the Popular Music Research Centre in July 1991 and was opened under the motto ‘The Changing World and Popular Music’ with a keynote address on the subject ‘Populäre Musik im sozialen und politischen Wandel’ (Popular music in social and political changes, cf. Wicke, 1995b). While popular music studies, developed on the basis of student theses in the 1980s, were shifted to the newly established teaching chair, the research centre was reorganised into contract research for politics, media and the music industry, as it was foreseeable that a research approach, which cannot be aligned to methodological dogmas of systematic and historical musicology, has hardly any chance of being financed in the reunified Germany by committees and bodies being responsible for university research. In the 1990s, this research was dominated by the development of structural change analyses, which were commissioned by the state ministry, the conference of the education ministers of the FRG and the Cultural Federation of the German Federal States, and brought up for discussion to a wide specialist audience at international scientific, cultural and political conferences. In 1992, such studies together with corresponding conferences took place in cooperation with the Cultural Ministry of the Free State of Saxony and the Institute for Music and Communication Industries North Rhine-Westphalia on the subject of ‘pop music between cultural promotion and cultural business’ (see Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 1993). In 1993, they were executed in collaboration with the Cultural Ministry of the Free State of Saxony and the European Music Office on the issue of ‘Popular music as a regional economic factor’ (cf. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 1994), and again in cooperation with the Cultural Ministry of the Free State of Saxony as well as the Society for Cultural Policy of the FRG focusing on the topic ‘Youth-music-culture-structure: Pop music as a socializing factor’ (Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 1997) in 1997. For the State Government of Brandenburg, a fundamental study on the relationship between culture, politics and economy at the intersection of the local music development was drawn up in 1994 (cf. Wicke, 1995a). On behalf of the Free State of Saxony, a music-related infrastructure programme was conceptualised that was based on the analysis of the constitutive factors of local music scenes (cf. Mischke  & Müller, 1996). In 1999, the state and communal funding concepts for local rock and pop music development were

44  Peter Wicke put to the test in a countrywide study commissioned by the Cultural Foundation of the Federal States (Mischke & Müller, 1999, 2001). All of these activities aimed at transforming the theoretically gained knowledge into a practical type of cultural-political concepts with regard to the social, economic, cultural and aesthetic particularities of popular music, the infrastructural conditions (cf. Kriese, 1993; Mischke  & Müller, 1993; Rutten, 1994), the music’s social integration function (cf. Wicke, 1990d), the sonic values and structures of meaning (cf. Binas, 1992; Wicke, 1990a) or the laws of the social construction of playing techniques and style forms (cf. Binas, 1997). In the 1990s, part of the contract research for the state authorities was the documentation and discussion of the radical right-wing rock music that gained ground in those years – a subject to which an entire edition under the slogan ‘PopScriptum’ of the previously in-house publication series (FPM-Publications, now released by a Berlin publishing house, was devoted in 1995; cf. Wicke, 1995c).

Media studies and musicology meet history and pedagogy In the 2000s, the emphasis of the contracted research has shifted to media and musicology when faced with empty public coffers.4 This involved and still involves the music consultation for Grundy Ufa, one of the biggest German producers of TV series, programme-related studies for MTV and other German broadcasters, the development of repertoire concepts for the recording industry such as the project called ‘hip-hop in Berlin’ for Universal Music Germany, the participation in projects for the digital music recognition or the elaboration of music-related brand concepts like the project named ‘Science Proofed Brand Music’ developed for the advertising agency Dorland Berlin or the brand-focused music consultation offered to a row of large companies in the industrial and financial sector on a theoretically reflected and empirically resistant basis. For this reason, a close cooperation with the Sinus Institute for Market und Social Research was established through which the empirical part of such projects is realised. The development of educational material of various types like the multimedia schoolbook project ‘Musik – Basiswissen Schule’ (Music: Basic Knowledge in School), which was honoured with the innovation award by UNESCO in 2006 and transformed the traditional textbook format into an integrative overall package including CD-ROM, DVD and an editorially maintained, comprehensive Internet portal as well as all genres and forms of music, does equally belong to this application-oriented context of popular music studies. This was based on a concept that has put music and its history into a perspective, in which popular music no longer seems to be a separated and marginalised special case, but the process of history is rather perceived as a relationship among musical production conditions, production technologies, music technologies and sounding artefacts, in which various conceptions of music, disparate musical terms as well as different music practices are generated. The project was a collaboration with Hanns Werner Heister, Max Peter Baumann, Christoph Hempel, Birgit Jank and Peatec Publishers, Berlin, as principals.

Looking east 45 The profile of popular music studies was generally maintained as it was developed in the 1980s, with the only difference being that the theoretical and thematic axes, which were dominant until 1990, were shifted from the research centre to the Chair of Theory and History of Popular Music. With the series ‘PopScriptum’ – printed until 1995, since then available as an ongoing thematic Internet platform (www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de) – a continuous stream of publications was preserved. Historical questions were given a greater consideration in the scope of topics. The history of popular music was even of significance in the 1980s, where special focus was placed on the subject ‘popular music in the Third Reich’ (cf. Wicke, 1985c, 1986) because of the fiftieth anniversary of Hitler’s seizure of power in 1983, but it is only since the 1990s that the historicity of popular music became a continuously picked subject area or theme. In addition to several book publications (Wicke, 1993b, 2001, 2011d), such as ‘Kulturgeschichte der Popmusik’ (Cultural History of Popular Music) (Wicke, 1998d, 2000e, 2006a), first published in 1998 and translated into Turkish in 2000 as well as Hungarian in 2006, and cross-sectional surveys on popular music in a historical context (Wicke, 1992a, 2013), a string of individual studies emerged of a theoreticalmethodological nature (Wicke, 2008c), and about specific historical subjects such as the development and change of musical professions in the field of popular music (cf. Just, 2015; Wicke, 2004d, 2007b), the construction of authenticity in the history of the blues (cf. Wicke, 2008b) or works by Jens Papenburg on the emergence of the maxi-single in the context of the disco culture in the 1970s (cf. Papenburg, 2014), on the synthesizer as an historical a priori (Papenburg, 2005), also on the semantics of Afro-American music in Germany in the early twentieth century, in which aspects of music and media history are combined (Papenburg, 2015b). Along with the downfall of the German Democratic Republic, the music of the GDR became a historical subject. Surprisingly, the GDR culture and music production came into focus of national and most notably international interest in the 1990s, which resulted in a significant increase of studies and publications in this field of research. The relationship between rock music and politics in the GDR was the centre stage of a larger project that was concluded with a publication in 1996, which combined analyses of the GDR’s music business, studies on the role of state security in the music scene (cf. Rauhut, 1996) or on the musical ‘underground’ in the GDR (cf. Binas, 1996), with interviews that were conducted with state authorities, politicians and representatives of the state’s youth organisation, music producers and media people, supplemented by documents from the (official) legacy of the GDR (cf. Wicke  & Müller, 1996). Especially the rock music of the GDR became an object of publications addressing their significance in the process of the GDR’s inner erosion (cf. Rauhut, 2005; Wicke, 1992c, 1992e, 1996b, 1997b), their sociocultural involvement in various youth scenes (cf. Wicke, 1991b), the musical, aesthetic and thus political transgression (cf. Binas, 1991), the inner contradictions of the GDR’s music business (cf. Wicke, 1996a, 1998b, 2002b; Wicke  & Shepherd, 1993), their system-specific particularities (cf. Wicke, 1997b, 1998c), subcultures such as the blues scene in the south of the country (cf. Rauhut, 2011) or the assertion of their independence

46  Peter Wicke in the social, commercial and medial context of the reunified Germany (cf. Wicke, 1998a). However, also becoming an issue was the initial situation in East Germany after the war, as Simon Bretschneider investigated it through the example of the Dresden popular music scene between 1945 and 1960 (cf. Bretschneider, 2015). As a field of research, the examination of music development in the GDR constitutes an important prerequisite for the culture- and policy-driven studies and conferences in the 1990s because they provided the material for the discussion of the cultural and political change in the East of Germany. In the meantime, this has become the theoretical and analytical preoccupation with music in the reunified Germany (cf. Wicke, 1993a), as is shown in the survey on the rock and pop music scene in Germany that was commissioned by the Deutscher Musikrat (German Music Council) in 2010 (Wicke, 2011c). The analysis of infrastructural and institutional constituents of popular music, an essential requirement for applied research, concentrated on both the music industry and the cultural-scientific dimensions of local music scenes. Within the framework of a European project concerning ‘Cultural Industries’ (ICISS – Information for Cultural Industries Support Services), executed in cooperation with partners from Milan, Helsinki, Dublin, Goteborg, Tilburg and Barcelona, the research centre together with the Manchester Institute for Popular Culture of the Manchester Metropolitan University and the Institute for Popular Music at Liverpool University took part in a study that was led by Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer investigating the organisational forms and internal structures of Berlin’s local music production under the slogan ‘Sounds like Berlin’ (Binas, 2000). The subject of the music industry was increasingly taken into account from a global perspective because of works related to the music industry in the USA (cf. Wicke, 1990b, 1991a), China (cf. Steen, 1996, 2006), Cuba (cf. Schlicke, 2007), South Korea (cf. Song, 2009) and the complex ‘World Music’ (cf. da Silva, 2013, 2014). In collaboration with the faculty of economic sciences at the University Witten/Herdecke, a fundamental research study on musicology in Germany was performed in 1996, which was primarily concerned with the culture-industrial production conditions and their consequences for music (cf. Schulze, 1996). By evaluating the history of Bertelsmann Group (BMG) as a music producer (cf. Wicke, 2010a) or with a view to the genesis of individual media such as the sound recording and its changing role in the music process (Wicke, 2009b), this topic was expanded by a historical dimension in the 2000s. By analyses of style as a commercial category (Wicke, 1992d) and the star complex, culture- and music-specific aspects came noticeably to the fore (cf. Jensen, 2001; Kriese, 1994a, 1994b; Riemann, 1998), whereby particular attention should be paid to the pioneering work of Silke Borgstedt on star and images in this respect (cf. Borgstedt, 2006a, 2006b, 2007, 2008). This heading also includes structural and ethnographic discussions of festivals that became central venues of the contemporary music scene – a co-operation with the research platform ‘Cultural Encounters and Transfers’ at the University of Innsbruck (cf. Ludewig, 2015b). The connection between commercial and musical processes is also central to the theoretical and analytical review of the interrelation between acoustic brand management through sound logos in the guise of pop

Looking east 47 sounds and the resulting feedback effects in an economic, aesthetic and phonetic view on popular music and its development (cf. Schoenrock, 2015). The economy of music processes remained on the agenda as a theoretical problem (cf. Wicke, 2000a, 2000b) as well as a historical and analytical task (Wicke, 2009c), whereby the change resulting from the Internet came notably into focus in the last couple of years (cf. Bauckhage, 2002; Herzberg, 2012). However, the overall aim of theoretically understanding and analytically uncovering music as an industrial product remained (cf. Wicke, 2007a) in order to create a concept of music that leaves the persistent detention in the classically romantic thinking of music in the nineteenth century behind, where music is regarded as an individual artistic expression of an outstanding artist subject. As an institutional and infrastructural requirement of the music process, broadcasting remained a relevant research topic because of its considerable importance, for which ethnographical methods started to play an even greater role. This is how a study on professional identity of radio DJs was formed in cooperation with the Institute of Communication Sciences and Media Research at the Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich, which no longer analysed the broadcasting institution under structural, programme-political and repertoire-related aspects, but rather placed the actors in the forefront (cf. Schreiegg, 2015).

Theoretical and methodological problems In 1992, the theoretical foundations, concepts and methodology of popular music research were succinctly summarised once again with regard to the fundamental theoretical and methodological problems relating to the reconstruction of phonetic mediation processes in cultural practices (cf. Wicke, 1992b). This formed the point of departure of a project, executed by John Shepherd in cooperation with the Canadian Carleton University Ottawa in the 1990s, which tried to conceptualise the relation between the sound of music and cultural importance with theoretical and conceptual instruments of cultural studies on a systematically elaborated basis (cf. Wicke & Shepherd, 1997c). While engaging with Lacan and works from the field of American cultural studies, the gender aspect played an essential theoretical role. From this time on, the gender problematic began to become an important part of both theoretical and analytical work (cf. e.g. Binas, 1992; Bloss, 1993, 1994, 1997, 1998, 2000a; Heiß, 2001; Jensen, 2001), which was first collectively summarised in 2000 by Monika Bloss with her research on ‘Geschlecht und Geschlechterverhältnisse im Diskurs von Musikwissenschaft und Popmusikforschung’ (Gender and Gender Relations in the Discourse of Musicology and Popular Music Studies; Bloss, 2000b). Yet, one of the central tasks continued to be the deconstruction of discursive formation when it comes to the concept of music in its historicity and sociality (cf. Wicke, 2004b, 2004c), whereby impulses were also initiated by the postmodern discussion in the 1990s (cf. e.g. Mischke, 1992). Time and again, the theoretical difficulties when dealing with the sonic reality of popular music in light of the normative musical concept of the classically romantic tradition, being deeply inscribed in the musicological instrument,

48  Peter Wicke were addressed (cf. Wicke, 1997a, 2002a, 2003b), as this concept of music is also reflected in the conceptualisation of sound and only accepts the musical sound when it represents structure, meaning the relational connections between sound events (architecture of shape, development of melody, rhythm, etc.). That means that the view on alternatives, making sound as a physical medium of audibility a topic of music in a non-symbolic way, is obscured from the start. These alternatives not only are relevant with respect to popular music, but relate to the contemporary music composition as a whole (minimal music, sound art, sound installation, new conceptualism, etc.). The fundamental changes, being connected to the expansion of music technology and the recording studio as a central place for music production and dealing with not only the realisation of making music but also the cultural and aesthetic dimensionality of sound, cannot be considered in this case. For this reason, the conceptualisation of sound takes centre stage as a medium of cultural practice (cf. Hanáček, 2008; Just, 2012; Wicke, 2000d, 2008a, 2010b, 2011b), including the technological aspects of sound designs (cf. Wicke, 2009a, 2011a). With a strong emphasis on media technology, Jens Gerrit Papenburg (2008a, 2008b) presented this aspect in detail. Only when sound and therefore the phonetic materiality of music is in a way conceptualised, corresponding to the reality and functionality of diverse cultural practices, in which popular music really exists, can the still present loss of signification of popular music as a cultural practice on the one hand (scenes, subcultures, etc.) and as a sound-related activity on the other hand (styles and genres) be overcome. Even in the 1990s, this aspect became a central issue in dealing with Techno because the machine-generated sound patterns represented an unmistakable break with the cultural and discursive constitution of sound, the medium that formed the basis of music making in the rock culture (cf. Maaz, 1994). In a project on the topic of ‘music and machine’ that was executed at the end of the 1990s together with the Academy of Fine Arts Berlin, the constitution of sound was primarily reflected from a historical perspective in the light of the music-and-machine discourse of the mid-1920s (cf. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 2001).

The (re-)conceptualisation of sound The relation between sound and body, which inevitably needs to be theoretically developed in this regard, turned out to be a first step in the direction of a reconceptualisation of sound that satisfies both its materiality and its nature as media (cf. Binas, 1992; Papenburg, 2001; Wicke, 2001b). The second step concerned the technological dimension of sound concepts as worked out by Carlo Nardi (2005) in his study on the influence of the visual design of music production software on acoustic design. This research was the result of collaboration with the Università di Trento. With the concept of sonic, a category was created in the last couple of years (cf. Wicke, 2008a, 2015) which made the different cultural formats of sound analytically more tangible on a historical and medial meta-level, in which the playing techniques and styles of popular music are realised (cf. Hanáček, 2008; Ungeheuer, 2008; Wicke, 2011b). Jens Gerrit Papenburg and his study on

Looking east 49 the issue of ‘hearing devices’ led to a substantial advancement of the theoretical and conceptual basis in the discussion of this problem. The mechanisation of perception that was evoked by rock and pop music pursued the relationship between soundscape, physicality and technology following the actor-network theory and advanced a new theoretical conceptualisation of sound with regard to a ‘history of technological mediated listening to music’ (Papenburg, 2011). In 2015, Papenburg transformed this approach into a ‘theory of para-auditory subjects at the intersection of cultural and media history’ (2015a). He also belongs to the co-founders of the international scientific network ‘Sound in Media Culture. Aspects of a Cultural History of Sound’ (cf. also www.soundmediaculture.net), which seeks to historically and theoretically reconstruct the term ‘sound’, congruent with the change processes within media culture and building a bridge between popular music research and sound studies (cf. Hanáček, Papenburg & Schulze, 2010; Papenburg & Schulze, 2011). The project’s results are summarised in the volume ‘Sound as Popular Culture’ (cf. Papenburg & Schulze, 2015). The subject of the mediality and the materiality of sound proved to be an increasingly important bracket combining the different research fields and topics with each other. The analysis of the social use of popular music focused on the relation between music and youth culture (cf. Wicke, 1994a, 2003a, 2006b, 2012), whereby it obtained a theoretical and conceptual framework owing to Bourdieu’s concept of ‘cultural forms’ (cf. Binas-Preisendörfer, 1991) and diverse subcultural and post-subcultural concepts (cf. Ludewig, 2015a). Already during this analysis, the question about the importance of acoustic material in cultural forms of community formation, patterns of segregation and symbolic differentiation strategies in and through music was increasingly high on the agenda. In 1996, with a view to technological change and social modernisation processes, this was even the subject of a discussion concerning ‘grounding music’ lasting several days, where several of the most renowned representatives of both popular music studies, music ethnology and new or rather critical musicology met at a conference organised by the research centre at Humboldt University in cooperation with Veit Erlmann at the ‘Institute for Ethnology’ at the Free University Berlin. Among them were Paul Berliner (USA), Sara Cohen (UK), Steven Feld (USA), Jocelyne Guilbault (Canada), Charles Keil (USA), Louise Meintjes (USA), Richard Middelton (UK), Paul Rutten (the Netherlands), Gary Tomlinson (USA), Robert Walser (USA) and Chris Watermann (USA). In the light of global transformation processes, the aim was to connect the microscopic examination of local music practices in their real sonority with the encompassing processes of the regional and international political economy on a multi-local and transdisciplinary basis. At the same time, the common ground should be explored, which unifies popular music studies, music ethnology and critical musicology (cf. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik, 1996). The question concerning the dimensions of the sound of music became more significant when the Internet began to play an increasingly important role in the 2000s (cf. Papenburg, 2013; Rockstroh, 2001; Wicke, 2000f; Wyrwich, 2010) and the cultural-specific materiality of sound faced its dematerialization in digital

50  Peter Wicke form (cf. Papenburg, 2010) – and it also entered studies, which seemed to be primarily dedicated to single questions. The examination of the social and discursive construction of the Berlin ‘Echtzeitmusikszene’ (real-time musical scene; cf. Blazanovič, 2011, 2012) – a live music scene developed in Berlin in the mid1990s and situated between jazz, avant-garde and pop – also arrived at this question, just like the discussion of selected musical scenes such as hardcore techno approached by Bianca Ludewig (2014) or the reconstruction of the ideologeme ‘orientalism’ in popular music, which was carried out by Markus Wyrwich in 2013 by means of an in-depth analysis of a single song title, Shakira’s and Beyoncé’s ‘Beautiful Liar’. The same applies to the discussion of music video aesthetics, as demonstrated in a study by Sabine Röthig (2015) on the superimposition of materiality of images and sounds with Chris Cunningham’s works for Aphex Twin, to the analysis of the producer’s role in studio work (Huschner, 2015) or to the feministic popular music analysis as promoted by Lena Müller with the question of the relationships among sound, voice and body in pop music (Müller, 2014).

Conclusion With the focus on materiality and mediality of sound, a level appears to be established that does not only allow addressing popular music as a sound-conveying, cultural practice in a theoretical manner, but which also paves the way for an analytical approach to popular music, connecting cultural and sound analysis. This is even more urgent as the field of popular music studies is neither an end-in-itself nor an extension of juvenile fandom in the academic context. If it takes itself seriously and demands to be treated that way in the academic framework, then the research on popular music will deal with the response to questions concerning the value of music in a lifestyle influenced by media and thus reach deeply into the centre of social organisms. This would call for nothing less than the deciphering of cultural power structures, the mapping of resources of meaning, and the deconstruction of individualisation and subjectification insofar as they are related to music in order to establish a relationship between theory and practice of music production, the practice of hearing and cultural self-realisation in and through music.

Notes 1 SED – Socialist Unity Party of Germany, until 1990 unrestricted political-ideological state apparatus in the GDR’s system of governance that was veiled as a ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’. 2 Georg Knepler (1906–2003), son of the Austrian composer and librettist Paul Knepler (worked among others for Künneke, Kálmán and Stolz), studied the piano from 1926 under Eduard Steuermann, conducting with Hans Gál, and musicology under Guido Adler, Wilhelm Fischer, Egon Wellesz, Rudolf von Ficker and Robert Lach. He functioned as a piano accompanist for Karl Kraus and Helene Weigel in the late 1920s, co-operated with Bertolt Brecht and Hanns Eisler afterwards; emigrated in 1934 as an Austrian Jew and member of the Communist Party of Austria to England, where he

Looking east 51 established his reputation as a director of an exile theatre until the move to the GDR in 1949. In the GDR, he was a proven authority thanks to his international experience, like so many intellectuals who moved to the GDR after World War II. 3 For detailed information, see (Wicke, 1990e, 1991d, 1994b). 4 Due to the fact that the results of privately financed research projects are only with difficulty accessible for the public, the website of the institution offers an overview of the activity profile – www.fpm-humboldt.eu.

Part II

Arts and experiments

4 Kosmische musik On krautrock’s takeoff Jens Gerrit Papenburg

Introduction ‘Made in Germany’ rock music really took off in 1973. At the latest. And yet this journey’s destination was not one of popular music’s quasi-mythical locations, such as the swampy Mississippi Delta or the mouth of the Mersey in England’s northwestern city Liverpool. Instead, this journey – or should we say ‘trip’? – was supposed to lead much farther away: into the cosmos. In order to reach such an ambitious destination, a few stopovers in some rather uncosmic places were necessary; Switzerland’s tranquil Bern, for example, and the even more tranquil Stommeln, a small district northwest of Cologne, and let us not forget West Berlin, still walled-in at the time. The cosmos was conjured up with numerous, often synthetically generated and intensely produced sounds, some crudely cried out by rather untrained voices – but of course always with the laid-back sound and jargon of the hippie counterculture which had emerged in the late 1960s. Popular music began this orientation towards the cosmos with one brash, fully hypertrophic expectation: not only would the local remain explicitly unarticulated, it would transcend even the global space itself. This demand for transgression, one which resonated in the sounds of bands and musicians such as the Cosmic Jokers, Ash Ra Tempel, Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh, and Klaus Schulze in the early 1970s, was taken up and solidified as so-called krautrock, primarily in England, ironically. However, the re-territorialisation of ‘kosmische musik’ (cosmic music) was less an expression of the genesis of purportedly ‘German’ rock music, and more of an indication that the development of popular music forms around 1970 was affected by a ‘complex flow between regional scenes in all parts of the world’ (Schildt & Siegfried, 2009: p. 361). England and the U.S. were only two of the many hubs (see also Nieswandt in this book). This brash pretension to transcend the global space using ‘kosmische musik’ coincided historico-culturally with the nascent ‘leftist psychological boom’ in West Germany around 1970 (Reichardt, 2014: p.  782). The boom arose due to new psychotherapies, to new spiritualities, and to advocacy of recreational drug use, all as steps towards ‘holism’ and ‘expansion’, ‘liberation’, and ‘dissolution of boundaries’ for the body and consciousness. It correlates with the constitution of a non-hegemonic ‘countercultural subject’ (Reckwitz, 2012: pp. 452–500).

56  Jens Gerrit Papenburg As demonstrated by Reichardt (2014), the demand for consciousness expansion within the context of the psychological boom was aimed at both self-transformation and social transformation. Nevertheless, most of the specific experiments motivated by this boom ended in a plainly inward withdrawal after the demands for significant social transformations in 1968 were not immediately satisfied. ‘Kosmische musik’ can be understood as one of the experiments aimed towards a structural transformation of consciousness and perception. The targeted transformations were not articulated through the music as concrete and potentially explicit political verbal messages; indeed, whatever messages and catchphrases were included in ‘kosmische musik’, they typically remained vague and associative. In fact, technology was of much greater significance for the targeted transformations of perception and consciousness. The technologies and media used in ‘kosmische musik’ were not implemented as instruments of rationalisation, but rather for the creation perhaps of that which Herbert Marcuse called a ‘new sensibility’ in 1969. He sought to understand this sensibility as a ‘revolution in perception, [. . .] a new sensorium’, which ‘accompan[ies] the material and intellectual reconstruction of society’ (Marcuse, 1969: p. 37).

New labels The discourse initiated at the onset of the 1970s surrounding the cosmic in West Germany’s popular music can be reconstructed and analysed based on selected releases put out by Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser and his partner Gerlinde ‘Gille’ Lettmann (a self-proclaimed ‘Sternenmädchen’ [star maiden]) between 1970 and 1974. Die Kosmischen Kuriere (Cosmic Couriers)/Kosmische Musik, the label founded by Lettmann and Kaiser, is of particular interest here. It is a secondary consideration whether we evaluate the Kuriere records as ‘sad reality satire’ (Hub, 1997) or as ‘cult’ music, or whether we classify them as ‘cosmotic kitsch’ (cf. for example, the satirical magazine Pardon about the early ‘Tangerine Dream’ records cited in Schwaar, 1973) or if we hear them as an indication that one is again prepared ‘to come to terms with the irrational and to understand transformation and consciousness expansion in terms of meditations as well’ (Schwaar, 1973). Independently from those evaluations, the reconstruction of the discourse surrounding the cosmic permits an examination of the idiosyncratic sound worlds and musical practices which correlate with that term, an analysis of the new music industry business models, music technologies, and subjectivities that have developed in relation to this term. Even though Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser, born in 1943, disappeared practically without a trace in the mid-1970s, his short biography tells of an exceptionally eventful life. His life story appears to be very closely linked to the development of an increasingly intense articulation found in West German rock music around 1970 – namely the demand for aesthetic autonomy from England and the U.S. Kaiser was a music journalist, concert organizer, author of many books, and the founder of a music production company. At the age of just twenty-five, he was significantly involved in the organization of the ‘Internationale Essener Songtage 1968’ (1968

Kosmische musik: on krautrock’s takeoff 57 International Essen Song Days), which was supposed to establish a radically new festival concept in Germany. Between 1967 and 1972, Kaiser published no fewer than ten books on rock music, counterculture, communes, etc. In 1970, he founded the music production company Ohr Musik Produktion GmbH together with Peter Meisel, who had been well anchored in the German schlager business for generations. That production company led to the independent labels Ohr Musik (1970) and Pilz Musik (1971), and finally, after Kaiser had begun to manage the company together with his partner Gille Lettmann and without Meisel in May  1973, the label Die Kosmischen Kuriere/Kosmische Musik emerged. Ohr Musik was the first record company that purposefully advanced the development and cultivation of rock music that was ‘made in Germany’, by releasing LPs with a relatively sophisticated design featuring Peter Geitner’s artwork and promoting them with the aid of Kaiser’s ‘PR avalanche’ (Siegfried, 2008: p. 620). In 1974, Kaiser and Lettmann filed for bankruptcy and disappeared: ‘By the beginning of his thirties, Kaiser was finished’ (Siegfried, 2008: p. 622). Nevertheless, Kaiser and Lettmann released seventeen LPs on their label, whose name had been quickly changed from Die Kosmischen Kuriere to Kosmische Musik. Among those releases were records by already established musicians, such as Ash Ra Tempel, Popol Vuh, Wallenstein, and Klaus Schulze, but also by some rather obscure artists from Switzerland, such as the Tarot-inspired painter Walter Wegmüller and the writer Sergius Golowin.

Sounding out the cosmos The label attempted to make contact with the cosmos via two different channels. First, a year before the foundation of Die Kosmischen Kuriere, Kaiser had already put out a sampler entitled ‘Kosmische Musik’ (Ohr, 1972) under the label Ohr Musik. This double album compiled a selection of largely already released material by Ash Ra Tempel, Popol Vuh, Klaus Schulze, and Tangerine Dream under the Kosmische signum. Crucially, Kaiser (1972a) included elaborate liner notes with the album – ‘Kosmische Musik. The journey through time’. By foisting the concept of the cosmic onto the hippie bands Grateful Dead and the Incredible String Band, Kaiser established a link to the psychedelic rock from the West Coast of the United States as well as to psychedelic folk from Great Britain. In actuality, however, the sound worlds mentioned here, those of Ohr’s ‘Kosmische Musik’ and those of psychedelic rock, differed significantly from one another. Kaiser attributed a pioneering role to the (West) Berlin band Tangerine Dream in particular, in view of the fact that their 1971 album ‘Alpha Centauri’ had already been an attempt to connect with the universe and cosmos.1 And the band, which performed in a planetarium in 1972, did indeed make Kaiser a verbal offer, which he was able to describe in the context of the cosmic: The depiction ‘cosmic’ stands for the maximal presentation of a tone’s spatial power of expression. We truly do draw our inspirations from the cosmos. Based on the planetary orbits, there is a calculated, static, so-called ‘music

58  Jens Gerrit Papenburg of the spheres’ [. . .] Using what is known as ‘Kosmische Musik’, we would like to attempt to make those processes, located at the limits of the probable human imagination, audible. (Translation of Tangerine Dream quote cited in Kaiser, 1972b: pp. 307–308) If the music of Tangerine Dream and others constitutes one contact with the cosmos for Kaiser and Lettmann, then the U.S. LSD apologist Timothy Leary – with his affirmations of a ‘psychedelic experience’ in which the separation of subject and object is meant to be abolished – is the other contact. In 1970, Leary published an article on ‘cosmic couriers’ which Kaiser cited extensively in his book ‘Rock-Zeit’ (1972b). According to Leary, those couriers should organize noncommercial LSD distribution for ‘consciousness expansion’. Clearly, Kaiser and his self-assured partner Lettmann saw themselves as called on to organize these delivery services themselves. So, just as Ken Kesey had playfully organized his ‘acid tests’, and Timothy Leary his messianic ‘mass public “trips” ’ (Roszak, 1995 [1968]: p.  166), Kaiser and Lettmann wanted to become cosmic couriers. The idea was that psychedelic experiences would be distributed through the label’s releases. Kaiser and Lettmann’s contact with Leary shifted from a purely literary one to a personal one: after Leary settled in Switzerland in May 1971 (he had escaped and fled the U.S. after being sentenced to many years in prison for possessing a few grams of marijuana), the couple made contact with the psychologist, who was, at this point, not only ruined legally, but academically as well. In the summer of 1972, Kaiser and Lettmann travelled to Bern with the (West) Berlin band Ash Ra Tempel and the music producer Dieter Dierks. They went there to record an album together with Leary and his entourage, something that was most likely arranged by Sergius Golowin and Walter Wegmüller (cf. Bossart, 2011). The result was Seven Up – the first release that jump-started Kaiser and Lettmann’s new label: the cosmic couriers were on the air. Kaiser and Lettmann’s interest in selling their label’s musicians as ‘mediums of cosmic supersensibility’ (Siegfried, 2008: p. 621) and their music as ‘acoustic psychopharmaceuticals’ (Anonymous, 1973a) soon ignited the already smouldering flames of conflict between the label and the musicians. Tangerine Dream and Schulze terminated their contracts in July 1973, after Kaiser and Lettmann tried to have them managed by Liz Elliot and Brian Barrit from the Leary entourage (cf. Anonymous, 1973b). The contract dissolutions became legally binding in May 1974 after a judicial process (cf. Leitner, 1986: p. 60). Kaiser and Lettmann had oriented their cosmic concept towards illegal substances in an excessively unilateral way; in addition, the label’s sales figures left much to be desired (cf. Leitner et al., 1986). There have also long been rumours, persisting to this day, that the couple released their musicians’ session material without the artists’ knowledge. For example, Kaiser and Lettmann organized a series of jam sessions with Jürgen Dollase (keyboards), Manuel Göttsching (guitar), Harald Großkopf (drums), and Klaus Schulze (synthesizer) at Dieter Dierks’s studio in Stommeln

Kosmische musik: on krautrock’s takeoff 59 near Cologne between February and May 1973. The sessions were not as much led by one individual voice, as they were about each individual attempting to experience being not just a part of one whole, but to be explicitly part of the whole. However, in the end Kaiser and Lettmann were the ones who determined what the whole was and who compiled it. They re-mixed the generated material, combined it with already-released material, and ultimately supplemented it with spoken texts performed by Lettmann. In this way, jam sessions were transformed into produced pieces, and audiobook-like sound collages were created, such as ‘Gilles Zeitschiff’ (Gille’s Time Ship) (Cosmic Jokers, 1974), which combined recordings by Klaus Schulze and Gille Lettmann with music samples from the label’s other releases and with (spoken) recordings of, among others, Golowin and Leary and Barrit. Kaiser and Lettmann marketed these montages as a product of The Cosmic Jokers.

Using the ‘cosmic’ The concept of the cosmic – which had already been promoted by Kaiser before the founding of Die Kosmischen Kuriere/Kosmische Musik label – was quickly taken up by the German music press (e.g. Sounds and Musikexpress) as well as by the international music press (e.g. Rolling Stone and Melody Maker). Before the word ‘krautrock’ was established in the British music press – Christoph Wagner (cf. Wagner, 2013: p. 37) demonstrated how Richard Branson’s Virgin Records had used the term to market bands from Germany since October 1973 – it was used there alongside terms such as ‘Deutsch rock’ (Watts, 1972) and ‘German rock’ (MacDonald, 1972) in order to describe ‘the strangest rock scene in the world’ (cf. MacDonald, 1972, also Wagner, 2013: pp. 23–37). The term ‘kosmische musik’ experienced a comeback against the backdrop of a krautrock revival out of England  – this first turning point was marked by the publication of Julian Cope’s ‘KrautrockSampler. One Head’s Guide to the Great Kosmische Musik’ in 1995 – an attempt to describe the specificity of the popular music form which had emerged in West Germany around 1970. The historiography of krautrock or rock music ‘made in Germany’ counts increasingly on the category of the cosmic (cf. Freeman & Freeman, 1997; Dedekind, 2008; Kotsopoulos, 2009; Stubbs, 2014; Wagner, 2013). However, the British music journalist Erik Davis rightly reminds us ‘that some crucial Krautrock bands – Can and NEU! – are not nearly as “kosmisch” as acts like Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Popol Vuh, and a lot of the records released on Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser’s Kosmische Musik label’ (Davis, 2009: p. 32). In the early 1970s, the cosmic became prominent on a discursive level in relation to popular music forms from West Germany. The new independent music industry used the concept in order to sell music – not to sell the music for the music itself, or even for entertainment or as an explicit political message, but rather in order for music to become a component of a philosophy directed at holism and consciousness expansion. Musicians returned to the concept in order to describe new forms of musical practice and dismissed Kaiser and Lettmann’s

60  Jens Gerrit Papenburg attempts to develop kosmische musik as ‘hippie stupidity’ (Froese cited in Wagner, 1999: p. 97). Through the usage of this concept, fans were able to identify with an elaborate and selective taste, and journalists were able to report on the newest developments. All of these definitions of the ‘cosmic’ constitute less of a coherent unity and more of a contradictory and tension-filled assemblage. Translated by Jessica Ring

Note 1 It should be noted here that, naturally, the cosmic was not only present in the popular music of West Germany; see Hayward (2004) for an overview of the space-age pop of the late 1940s and 1950s and the productions of the Brit Joe Meek, the soundtracks for science fiction television series (for instance, the British series Doctor Who, the German series Raumpatrouille Orion, and Afrofuturism). Moreover, there were other music forms in Germany alongside kosmische musik, which sought to make contact with the universe. A performance of Karlheinz Stockhausen’s ‘Sternklang’ (Star Sound) in 1971 in Berlin, in which a keyboard-less synthesizer produced by the British company EMS was used, developed into an important reference for the Berlin band Agitation Free and for the musicians Klaus Schulze and Edgar Froese (cf. Wagner, 2013: p. 78f.). Releases such as the ‘Science Fiction Dance Party’ by Science Fiction Cooperation (Populär, 1968) serve more as a sound-based foil for comparison to kosmische musik.

5 Kraftwerk The history and aesthetics of a pop-cultural concept Dirk Matejovski

Introduction The works, aesthetics, and influences of Kraftwerk have led to all sorts of paradoxes. These paradoxes are related to a distinct body of work, conceptual frame of reference, history, and the eager assignment to self-canonization. Kraftwerk resists attempts at classification, and it is, for example, difficult to situate them in terms of traditional terminological reference points such as pop or rock. Kraftwerk is not a band, and while it is often referred as a formation, even this designation is incorrect, since Kraftwerk is nowadays a project by one man who employs three people for his performances. It is also difficult to trace what is commonly referred to as the ‘history of the band’ or to identify the albums that are original creations by Kraftwerk. In light of all of these circumstances and the very fact that Kraftwerk is characterized, first and foremost, by sobriety and reduction, one can only conclude that what one is dealing with here is one of the most striking examples of self-mythologization in contemporary music history. For this reason, talking about Kraftwerk not only means talking about musicians, machines, or melodies but also about myths. In order to understand the myth and the mythmaking of Kraftwerk, it is necessary to first take a closer look at the basic facts concerning this phenomenon.

Machine musicians From the point of view of producers, there are two categories of bands from the classic phase of popular music: on the one hand, there is the majority of pop and rock bands. Their names are essentially little more than shorthand for discographies or production and performance histories. On the other hand, there are the big, monumental formations in rock and pop history. In the Valhalla of popular culture, their names have become codes for the beginnings of epochs, for lifestyles, interpretations of the world, and aesthetic concepts. This is also and maybe especially true in the case of Kraftwerk. Dealing with Kraftwerk does not, then, simply imply discussing a group of people who happened to make music together at a certain point in time. In other words, it is not only about music production but about a discourse in which sound, performance, and the production of meaning are inseparably intertwined.

62  Dirk Matejovski This is one of the reasons why the generic conventions commonly used in traditional rock’n’roll narratives cannot be used to recount the seemingly uneventful history of Kraftwerk. Therefore, it is necessary to approach its history and especially its production history via the following four concepts: innovation, reception, mystification, and self-canonization. The prehistory and early history of pop was dominated by patterns that have to be understood in an almost structuralistic manner until it meta-reflexively lost this very naiveté. This is true especially for biographies of rock or pop musicians that adopt a tried-and-true pattern, namely that of the quasi-mythical tale of a band consisting of males getting and staying together for the sake of music, a tale of success and failure, of excesses and loss, of risks similar to that taken by Icarus, and of canonization and cult followings. To this day, this basic pattern for all of these rock’n’roll myths is the production dispositif of ‘authenticity’, which has to be understood, under cultural-industrial conditions, as a pop-cultural trivialization of the classic ‘aesthetics of genius’. Compared with mythical stories told by or about the majority of pop or rock bands and, more specifically, with the formative topoi in contemporary pop historiography, the ‘band history’ of Kraftwerk offers a provocative alternative. Instead of stories about demolished hotel rooms, accidents, drug addicts, or sexual exploits, the saga of Kraftwerk is primarily about technology used on stage and in the studio, about discursive frames of reference, and about court decisions. In contrast to what could be described as passionate and heated performances of straightforward rock’n’roll narratives, the story of Kraftwerk is cool, controlled, and maze-like, and yet it is possible to identify the essential patterns of this story, the patterns that matter when it comes to the project’s aesthetic. Two persons shaped Kraftwerk: Ralf Hütter, born on August 20, 1946, and Florian Schneider-Esleben, born on April 7, 1947. These two were the masterminds (cf. Buckley, 2012: pp. 24–32). Karl Bartos, born on May 31, 1951, and Wolfgang Flür, born July 17, 1947, complemented the two masterminds in a partly ironic, partly technologized simulation of a traditional band (Buckley, 2012: pp. 49–53, 59–63). Flür was part of the formation from 1973 to 1986, Bartos from 1975 to 1990. One could call this period Kraftwerk’s classic phase, because during this period, the project closely resembled a conventional formation of individuals making music. Between 1986 and 2009, Kraftwerk was characterized by a reduced aesthetics of disappearance, as key members were substituted by replacements. In 2009, founding member Florian Schneider-Esleben also left the project, turning Kraftwerk into a one-man show featuring three employees. The next logical step would be the departure of Ralf Hütter, who would then be replaced by an android. The sequence of events prior to the phases described above is as confusing as it is informative. Although Kraftwerk, utilizing strategies of self-canonization, later wanted to create the impression that its history began with Autobahn, it is clear that there already was an aesthetic prior to the release of this 1974 album. Schneider-Esleben and Hütter first met in 1968 and founded a band called Organisation or, to be more precise, ‘Organisation zur Verwirklichung gemeinsamer

Kraftwerk  63 musikalischer Konzepte’, which can be translated as ‘Organization for the Realization of Shared Musical Concepts’. In 1970, this formation released its only album, which was called ‘Tone Float’. The son of a successful architect, SchneiderEsleben had received classical training in transverse flute, violin, and guitar, and he used his skills as a starting point for crossing musical borders. He found an equally adventurous and congenial partner in Ralf Hütter. Hütter focused on keyboards and on innovative forms of electronic sound generation (Buckley, 2012: pp. 30–32). It comes as no surprise that until the beginning of the classic period, when Bartos and Flür joined the project, Schneider-Esleben and Hütter surrounded themselves, albeit for only short periods of time, with well-known experimental musicians such as guitarist Michael Rother, percussionist Klaus Dinger, and Eberhard Kranemann (Buckley, 2012: pp. 33–44). During the early seventies, two collaborations were initiated that eventually would also have an effect on the perception of Kraftwerk. Kraftwerk worked with Conrad (Conny) Plank as their producer, and Emil Schult shaped the visual appearance of the project well into the eighties. Kraftwerk, which evolved out of Organisation in 1970, had released three albums by 1974: ‘Kraftwerk’ (1970), ‘Kraftwerk 2’ (1971), and ‘Ralf and Florian’ (1973). While they were released as official and authorized works by Kraftwerk at the time, they are not part of their official canon of works today. One could argue that Schneider-Esleben and Hütter decided to omit these albums because in terms of production aesthetics, they differ from later works. The masterminds behind Kraftwerk created them, and this fact makes them even more interesting to musicologists. The three albums released before Autobahn are creditable and ambitious. They not only engaged with krautrock (see Papenburg in this book) but they also held their own in an international market. Last but not least, they also laid the foundation for the formation’s early fame (Buckley, 2012: pp.  33–49). As suggested above, the decision to omit the first three albums from the official discography was likely made in order to achieve what could be referred to as a production-aesthetic dramatization effect. Because of the decision to label the early albums as irrelevant precursors of the actual oeuvre – and this decision will be discussed in greater detail below – Autobahn appeared, in terms of production, even more innovative than it actually was. While it may therefore be not as ground-breaking as commonly assumed, it is the 1974 album Autobahn that allowed Kraftwerk to go down in the history of pop music. The release of this album turned Kraftwerk from a German experimental formation characterized by a constantly changing constellation of members into the internationally renowned project with considerable name recognition and a myth-like superstructure. Recorded in 1973 and 1974 at both the Kling Klang Studio in Düsseldorf and at Conny Plank’s studio in NeunkirchenSeelscheid near Cologne, the album marked a turning point. As ‘for many, modern music would truly begin in the spring of 1975 with the release of the “Autobahn” single’ (Buckley, 2012: p. 60), Autobahn offers the perfect blueprint of Kraftwerk’s musical and extra-musical strategies. Although it marked the end of a period of experimentation, Autobahn does combine complexity

64  Dirk Matejovski and simplicity, pop and avant-garde, and self-confident regionalism and ironic allusions. The international success of Autobahn marked the beginning of the most productive and most intense phase in Kraftwerk’s long history. More albums were quickly released, and these were now more closely connected to a less volatile combination of members in the formation. From 1974 until the second half of the 80s, Kraftwerk was a quartet consisting of Schneider-Esleben, Hütter, Bartos, and Flür. The album Radio-Aktivität appeared in 1975, Trans Europa Express in 1977, Die Mensch-Maschine (Man-Machine) in 1978, and Computerwelt (Computer World) in 1981. These albums and Autobahn are the classic albums by Kraftwerk. Even the names of the albums suggest that they are the key elements of their aesthetics. Technology, mobility, communication, and a playful retro-futurism point to a more differentiated aesthetic of electronic songs presented with virtuosity. Individual titles of albums such as Radio-Aktivität and Trans Europa Express have entered into the collective consciousness, and songs such as ‘Das Model’ prove that the electro-avantgardists can also write pop hits. In the mid-1980s, Kraftwerk had already become both a classic of the pop modern age and cult figures at the same time. The difficult history of the origin and publication of the album Electric Café (1986) marked a new phase of the Kraftwerk saga. Step by step, Kraftwerk was once again becoming a duo, as both Wolfgang Flür and Karl Bartos left the ‘band’, and their successors, who are still part of the formation today, remain mere extras. Production times have become longer, and technical differentiation has become increasingly important, especially when it comes to digitalization. The famous Expo-Jingles and the Tour de France Soundtracks from 2003 were to be Kraftwerk’s last original releases. ‘Minimum Maximum’, which came out in 2005, documented international live appearances; in 2009, the ensemble of the eight canonical Kraftwerk albums, that is, the discography from Autobahn to the Tour de France Soundtrack, was presented in a reworked version as ‘The Catalogue’. The internationally recognized public appearances at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in New York, the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen (art collection North-Rhine-Westphalia) in Düsseldorf, and the Tate Gallery in London were occasions for limited new editions of ‘The Catalogue’. In the meantime, the size of Kraftwerk changed considerably. After the departure of SchneiderEsleben in 2009, Kraftwerk became the solo project of Ralf Hütter, who is now being supported by three ‘aides’.

Innovation and aesthetics Many people would agree that Kraftwerk’s work from the seventies and eighties represents a distinct yet controversial example of innovation in pop culture. It is, however, very difficult to explain exactly why this approach has been regarded as innovative and influential. The use of synthesizers and the openness to technological experimentation could be perceived as two innovative dimensions, but Kraftwerk was neither the first nor the only band or formation to experiment with electronic music at the beginning of the seventies. In new ‘classical’ music (Stockhausen), film and pop music (Wendy Carlos), and progressive rock (Yes, Pink

Kraftwerk  65 Floyd, ELP), there were already models for using the new technological possibilities in the field of electronic sound production. Furthermore, electronic music actually came close to the partly experimental, partly psychedelic habitus of krautrock, and formations such as Can or Tangerine Dream made this kind of music recognizable on an international level. It was precisely this contextualization that cleared the way for the three strategies that actually helped to create Kraftwerk’s innovative profile: reduction, visual coherence, and narrative framing. Autobahn reflects all of these three dimensions. Kraftwerk did not get lost in the technological possibilities of electronic sound production but paid close attention to detail and developed a kind of minimalist conciseness. To use the terminology of art historians, one could say that Kraftwerk gave up the Gestus of incompleteness, which could be observed, for example, in the work of Can, in favour of a closed form. This emphasis on reduction and refinement allowed Kraftwerk to create a distinct and coherent oeuvre. Having been influenced decisively by art and architecture, Kraftwerk very early on also understood the importance of the visual dimension of performance. The electronic pioneers refashioned themselves as soberly dressed advocates of technology, and, taking this step to its logical conclusion, the musical man-machines allowed themselves to be replaced by animated puppets. The sombre guises of office worker and technician represented an elaborate and well-calculated alternative vision to the oppositional dress codes in, for example, traditional rock. It also provided the pattern for a musical version of what critics have described as a behavioural doctrine of coldness (‘Verhaltenslehre der Kälte’ [rules on behaviour of coldness]; cf. Lethen, 1994; Poschardt, 2002), which were at the heart of postpunk and new wave. Ever since the mid-seventies, Kraftwerk has always been more than merely a group of musicians; instead, the goal has been to create a complete or ‘total’ audio-visual work of art. For musicologists interested in this process, it is quite convenient that Kraftwerk often commented on their own work, at least during the formation’s early phase. In fact, the electronic man-machines have always been veritable ‘mythomaniacs’. Myths can be defined as tales of origin that explain phenomena or provide guidance. In contrast to, for example, Can, Tangerine Dream, or Giorgio Moroder (see Krettenauer in this book), Kraftwerk provided a broad variety of interpretational frames for work in interviews and aphorisms, as well as in their iconography. These comments created the discursive context for Kraftwerk performances. This context included the following key ingredients: technology, objectification, regional references, and an aesthetic of innovation as well as historical references to pre-war avant-garde. This emphasis marked Kraftwerk as being different from groups relying entirely on their works. Thus, Kraftwerk became a myth machine.

The reference machine: reception Not many innovators are as fortunate as Kraftwerk, which attracted a following quite early on. In this respect, three different types of reception can be observed: probably the best known recipient of Kraftwerk is David Bowie, who moved on

66  Dirk Matejovski from rock’n’roll and glam rock by turning to electronic music and whose albums Low and Heroes (both released in 1977) were clearly influenced by Kraftwerk. During the late seventies and early eighties, Kraftwerk had a considerable influence on post-punk and new wave bands looking for and following up on musical innovation beyond the well-established rock formats and clichés (cf. Albiez, 2011: pp. 139–162; Witts, 2011: pp. 163–180). Bands such as Human League, Joy Division, New Order, and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD) received and transformed the Kraftwerk sound. This reception of the Kraftwerk formula led to the emergence of one of the most important directions in popular music in the eighties, synth-pop. One could argue that Kraftwerk’s ‘Das Model’ (the model) provided the basic blueprint for many synth-pop songs. In America, Kraftwerk’s reception was just as improbable as it was spectacular. Ever since Autobahn, the band from Düsseldorf had received airplay on northern US radio stations and had entered the US charts. Well-known songs by Kraftwerk became popular in clubs, and many DJs remixed them into tracks for the dance floor. Many directions in music in the eighties would not exist without the blueprints provided by Kraftwerk. This is also true for less popular developments: Düsseldorf electro-punk à la DAF, electronic body music bands such as Nitzer Ebb and Front 242, or Detroit techno – all these roads lead back to Kraftwerk.

Canonization and museumization Kraftwerk’s success story contains, as suggested at the beginning of this essay, an important paradox. Their status and their global reception could be traced back to Kraftwerk’s innovative approach and their stylistic-aesthetic coherence and brilliance. But how long can and will innovators such as Kraftwerk keep up with the aesthetic developments of their admirers? Kraftwerk decided to work around this problem by becoming ‘classic’. As soon as it became obvious that the group’s innovative potential would inevitably be exhausted by the rapid developments in electronic music, it was especially the masterminds Schneider-Esleben and Hütter who resorted to aesthetic deceleration and communicative scarcity. They produced less and less over ever longer periods of time. Since the nineties, the primary focus has been the maintenance and reworking of classic works. This also includes what could best be described as a Gestus of self-canonization, which involves the decision on the authenticity and relevance of albums and songs. Seen in this light, The Catalogue, which includes the eight albums from Autobahn to Tour de France Soundtrack represents a definitive statement by Kraftwerk on its own oeuvre. Not surprisingly, the last major concerts, played in large international art museums on eight nights, featured songs from only these eight albums. These venues are also quite telling inasmuch as they suggest that Kraftwerk, that is, the last founding member Ralf Hütter, wants to draw attention to collective memory and the project’s place in it. Kraftwerk plays in museums in order to invalidate the rules of the cultural-industrial music business. Since the early 1970s, Kraftwerk has aimed for aesthetic sovereignty. In this sense, Kraftwerk remains, to this day, a vital link between high culture, the creative arts, and the realm of pop music.

6 Pophörspiel Popular music in radio art Holger Schulze

We hear glass breaking against the background of a cheap beat and a quirky, repetitive electronic bassline that is somehow theatrical. Farther away, we hear the shouts and sounds of human aggression. Something violent and emotional is happening and, back in the foreground, a smooth and soothing voice – a female news presenter – reports rather unemotionally about this emotional instance behind her: we hear the sound of a world as captured by the administration. It is all quite strange. What are we actually listening to? We are in fact listening to a 7″ single, and we are listening to a political protest. The protest occurred in 1981 in West Berlin, on the Kurfürstendamm, or the ‘Kudamm’ in local argot. The record, on which this boulevard is the main actor in a political performance, is called ‘Berlin Q-Damm 12.4.81’, released by the record label Riskant from Cologne. This label, focusing mostly on industrial and new wave music – and with a fish on chicken legs for its logo – would later include this political protest cum musical composition on the album ‘Der Durchdrungene Mensch/Indianer von Morgen’ (The Permeated Man/Indians of Tomorrow) by Heiner Goebbels and Alfred Harth. Although one of these names should disappear from cultural consciousness, the other would go on to become an acclaimed composer – a composer of rather experimental radio plays, but also of concert pieces for the Ensemble Modern in Frankfurt (since 1993) and even for the Berliner Philharmoniker (‘Surrogate Cities’, 2003) – and eventually the artistic director of the ‘Ruhrtriennale’ in the early 2010s. This paper uses the work of Heiner Goebbels as a lens to examine the genre of the ‘Pophörspiel’, of which Goebbels is one of the leading exponents.

Pophörspiel In the late 1980s a new genre emerged on German radio: the Pophörspiel. The ‘Hörspiel’, a type of experimental or artistic radio play, was already an established genre on German radio, having evolved in the late 1960s from the more ordinary radio drama. The radio drama has been understood as aural or acoustic theatre, a theatre without images, since the 1920s and 30s, but the Hörspiel brought this basic genre in ever more experimental and idiosyncratic directions, generating a type of audio experimentation lying somewhere between ‘Lautpoesie’ and auditory media art. But these productions of the 1960s and 1970s were experiments still within the forms of canonized avant-gardes going as far back as the 1910s,

68  Holger Schulze albeit re-enacted under new conditions – new media, a different society, new artistic practices, contemporary political conflicts. By contrast, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the Hörspiel gave birth to the Pophörspiel through the aesthetic integration of new sources, styles and genres taken from contemporary popular music rather than from canonical avant-garde concerns. One beginning of this new sub-genre can be identified in the radiophonic works of Heiner Goebbels, as well as Andreas Ammer. Inevitably, such an identification can only be tentative, and, indeed, no sooner is it posited than it can be refuted: arguably, earlier examples of the so-called ‘Neues Hörspiel’, the new radio play, had already integrated popular music, quite extensively to boot, adopting its styles, referring to it, and even directly including popular performances. Neues Hörspiel pieces that can be pointed to in this regard include works by Ferdinand Kriwet (‘One Two Two’ [Hörtext 5], WDR/SFB 1968; ‘Apollo America’ [Hörtext 6], SWF/BR/WDR 1969; ‘Voice of America’ [Hörtext 7], WDR/SWF 1970), by Paul Pörtner (‘Schallspiel-Studie’, BR 1964; ‘Was sagen Sie zu Erwin Mauss?’ [What’s Your Statement on Erwin Mauss?], NDR 1968; Alea [WDR/BR/SDR 1969/71]), by Ernst Jandl and Friederike Mayröcker (‘Fünf Mann Menschen’ [Five Man Human], SWF 1969) and by Wolf Wondratschek (‘Paul oder die Zerstörung eines Hörbeispiels’ [Paul or the Destruction of a Sonic Sample], WDR 1970). These writers and composers clearly alluded to – and often bluntly assimilated – well-known rhythmical, agogical and melodic structures from famous pop songs. For example, Peter Handke’s theatre piece ‘Publikumsbeschimpfung’ (Offending the Audience) and his radio pieces ‘Hörspiel’ (1968) or ‘Hörspiel Nr. 2’ (1968) openly address the fact that they transfer the agogical structures of the Mersey beat or of selected songs from the beat music of the British Invasion (‘beatmusik’ in German) into a literary, radiophonic artwork. That German sound and music culture is trying – or even working hard – to cope with the new, rather alien aesthetics of that thing called popular music is quite obvious in all of these artistic appropriations and assimilations: pop music is a problem, and the works are highly self-conscious; only sometimes do the pieces succeed in an affirmative and joyful approach to the ‘popular’ in German culture. A parallel can be seen in that part of German literature called ‘Popliteratur’. Popliteratur is distinct from the canonized tradition of German poetry, drama and literature, but it also includes its own internal distinctions: famously, in 1999, the music critic and theorist Diedrich Diederichsen proposed a distinction between pop I and pop II. Diederichsen locates pop I – in literature – in the West Germany of the 1960s to 1980. Pop I, which includes authors such as Rolf-Dieter Brinkmann, Hubert Fichte and Rainald Goetz, is driven by political and countercultural issues as well as by the exploration of late avant-garde and postmodernist strategies of writing. Pop II belongs to reunified Germany since the 1990s and encompasses a more mainstream sort of literature which embraces references to consumer culture, brand names and popular television and other new media; its authors include Benjamin von Stuckrad-Barre, Christian Kracht and Alexa Hennig von Lange (cf. Diederichsen, 1999a: p.  275). ‘Popliteratur’, and especially pop II, embraces and affirms the popular as part of aesthetics, but

Pophörspiel: popular music in radio art  69 in fact the self-conscious and problematizing aspect of this embrace never quite goes away: the popular seems never to be simple and easy in the context of German cultural production. Despite this ongoing problematic, pop II represents a new stage of popular culture integration into other German aesthetic concerns. This is why identifying the work of Goebbels or Ammer as the starting point of the Pophörspiel makes sense, because they coincide with pop II, and mirror some of its developments. Indeed, pop II was very influential overall in the development of Pophörspiel, and the aesthetic impetus of pop II, combined with newly accessible digital sound processing technology, created great creative possibilities for a generation of younger ‘bedroom producers’. The great potential of this upsurge of poets, producers and DJs inspired some of the many regional public radio stations in Germany (e.g. Bayerischer Rundfunk BR, Südwestfunk SWF and Deutschlandradio DLR) to fund many new intermedia productions. These productions and their funding were probably seen by the radio stations as a way to reach new and younger audiences, but they also represent an extension into the twenty-first century of the important role that German radio stations have long had in funding such art, including support of Fluxus and the media art of the 1970s in earlier generations.

‘Wolokolamsker Chaussee I–V’ (1989/90) One of the earliest, and undoubtedly one of the most influential, examples of a Pophörspiel was a piece by Heiner Goebbels, broadcast for the first time on January  18, 1990: ‘Wolokolamsker Chaussee I–V’ (Volokolamsk Highway) (Goebbels, 1994: CD 3, Track 1–5). This CD-long piece (77:36 minutes) is based on various literary adaptations by poet Heiner Müller of original texts by Franz Kafka, Heinrich von Kleist, Anna Seghers and the Soviet Russian novelist Alexander Bek. Previously, Goebbels – working in West Germany, of course – had staged and interpreted pieces by the East German Müller in various radiophonic and theatre works (e.g. ‘Verkommenes Ufer’ [Disintegrating River Banks], 1998; ‘Befreiung des Prometheus’ [The Freeing of Prometheus], 1985; ‘MaeLSTROMSÜDPOL’ [MaelstromSouthPole], 1987/88). In Wolokolamsker Chaussee, Goebbels replicates Müller’s practice of literary appropriation in the five parts of his piece by referring in a sonic ‘Parallelaktion’ (parallel action/ enterprise; referring to Robert Musil) as to different musical styles and traditions of popular music – its composition, performance and staging. Müller reinterprets original literary artworks into his own authentically raw and at the same time antique-mannerist style, throwing in eclectic – some would say erratic – references to contemporary GDR politics, history and culture. Goebbels parallels this parallel practice in his own work by inviting and placing quite heterogeneous performers into his own piece: these apparently arbitrarily selected presences include a speed metal band (Megalomaniax), a chamber choir (Kammerchor Horbach), a hip-hop collective (We Wear the Crown) and a piece of classical music, Dmitri Shostakovich’s famous Symphony No.  7 in C major, Op. 60,

70  Holger Schulze ‘Leningrad’, incorporated via a pre-existing recording. Nor does Goebbels’ integration of genre end at this point: he also utilizes the theatrically arranged voices and vocal artistry of actor Ernst Stötzner and of author, filmmaker, TV producer and polymath Alexander Kluge, the latter of whom is also appropriately famous for a notoriously obscure style of TV interviewing. These very heterogeneous sources of instrumental and vocal performances are then arranged by Goebbels into one suite in which the particular sonic profiles of each of these sources become the unified but fluid carrier of a new ‘sonic fiction’ (Eshun, 1998), in this case a fiction of the Wolokolamsker Chaussee. Wolokolamsker Chaussee begins with a speed metal piece, ‘Russische Eröffnung’ (Russian Gambit), in which the lyrics present the fearful inner monologue of a Soviet captain Belenkow concerning anticipated attacks by the German Wehrmacht. This text – originating from a novel by Alexander Bek – has been rhetorically and poetically reorganized by Heiner Müller; Goebbels now takes the additional step of reinterpreting this text again, into the audible realm of sound production and pop. The band playing this piece, loudly shouting selected lines (‘Liebe zum Leben ohne Krieg und Tod! – Vor dem Wald hat der Respekt / Der Deutsche’ [love of life, without war and death! – The forest has the respect / of the German]) from the background is the Frankfurt-based crossover metal band Megalomaniax. Through this decision to stage Müller’s and Bek’s poetry against the backdrop of late 1980s metal riffs, power chords and drum beats, Goebbels achieves what must be central in any director’s work: he renews the original text and gives urgency and energy anew. The piece itself is a rather long song of almost fourteen minutes, but this is quite within a metal tradition of long songs. Yet the duration of the song, and the internal dramaturgy of the metal style, is what makes the piece and its genre so effective for the theatricality of the ‘Russische Eröffnung’. The sonic and stylistic impetus of the music, combined with meticulous work by Stötzner, who serves here as additional frontman and lead singer for Megalomaniax, allow Goebbels to create a piece in which the drastic intransigence of Müller’s aesthetic becomes a visceral, bodily presence. This ‘aesthetic of the drastic’ (Dath, 2005), derived from analysis in the field of heavy metal, porn and splatter movies, is transformed and modulated as Wolokolamsker Chaussee proceeds, first with a more folky piece, ‘Wald bei Moskau’ (Forest Near Moscow), followed by a chamber choir piece, and then a rather free-floating sound piece, until all ends and implodes in a hip-hop piece: ‘Der Findling’ (The Foundling). This final piece is staged in a radical and breathtakingly different way compared with the opening sequence. The scene is no longer WWII, but instead an anecdote from the Prague Spring of 1968 that is somehow combined with Heinrich von Kleist’s novel ‘Der Findling’ (1811). The anecdote offers insights into democratic and liberal transformations in the Socialist Republic of Czechoslovakia by recalling the son of a leading local figure, an ex-Nazi and now party member in the GDR, who is jailed (the son) for distributing flyers protesting the military intervention of the ‘Nationale Volksarmee’ (People’s National Army) of the GDR to put a halt

Pophörspiel: popular music in radio art 71 to these transformations in the Republic of Czechoslovakia. The piece starts with a rather simple, even dull, computer-generated beat that is punctuated by repeated and pitched samples, sequenced basslines, and intense shouting and chanting by the actors. The techno mega-hit ‘Pump Up the Volume’, issued three years earlier, somehow pervades the piece (although it is not actually sampled). After about three minutes, the piece transforms into a more freefloating, loosely connected, even funky section. This section is still full of voices, distorted and drastically pitched samples of workers’ songs from the socialist canon, and of scratching and dissonantly distorted guitar-riffs as well as rather more playful beatboxing, scat singing and samples from the previous three parts of the radio play.1 The overall dramaturgy and agogic structure of this piece stages a disruption of the aesthetics (and, thus, also of the politics) of the pieces that had come before. As listeners, we sense our muscles flexing differently, the involuntary responses of our arms and hands to this new music representing a new, distorted, transforming and aggressively self-reflexive age. All new – and all weird and mixed up, but in the best and most optimistic way in order to promote change. The poetry of Heiner Müller finds itself performed in a contemporary musical genre that highlights the tension and hyper-presences of its politics. This is no historical recap, but a loud alarm bell and an urgent call to reflect on the meaning, if any, in our lives, mine and yours, and perhaps to make that meaning: ‘VERGESSEN UND VERGESSEN UND VERGESSEN / Begraben immer wieder von der Scheiße / Und aus der Scheiße steht es wieder auf’ (TO FORGET AND FORGOTTEN AND FORGOTTEN / buried again and again in the shit / but from the shit, standing up and rising up again). The infamous ‘Gespenst des Kommunismus’, the spectre of communism, haunts this Hörspiel, but now the spectre is not haunting capitalism but just the undead lifeform of communism itself. ‘Ich weiß, was ihr gebaut habt / Ein Gefängnis’ (I know what you have built / a prison). About all that communism ever achieved was to build a structured society. But now the security of familiarity and constancy is in flux  – in verse, structure, harmony, genealogy and politics. The chaos reveals the truths that had wanted to be hidden, and shows what to do to them: ‘Erschießen solln Sie dich du Nazibastard / Erschießen solln Sie dich wie einen Hund’ (you should be shot, you Nazi bastard / shot like a dog). The socialist world order is ending, and whimpering as it dies, its end crowed and clamored at by a hip-hop crew. Hip-hop is the music of the urban West and of youth, here in the presence of the Frankfurt-based We Wear the Crown, founded by Markus Löffel (later to be known worldwide under his DJ-name Mark Spoon) and Moses Pelham (also later to excel as a rapper and producer) when they were 16. ‘Was? Was geht mich Euer Sozialismus an? Bald schon ersäuft er ganz in Coca Cola . . . Vergessen und vergessen’ (What, why should I care about your Socialism? Pretty soon it will all be drowned in Coca Cola.  . . . To forget, forgotten). Notably, the dwindling of socialism before the hip-hop energy of the modern world is the locus of both a loss and a gain, not something to be accepted or celebrated in Müller’s or Goebbels’ dramaturgy, but something to be interrogated.

72  Holger Schulze

Pop and non-pop All these diverse parts of parts of Wolokolamsker Chaussee are connected by an excerpt from Dmitri Shostakovich’s Seventh symphony, Leningrad: the Shostakovich piece provides a lightly stepping pizzicato that remains rather serene but always present in the background of Goebbels’ piece – serene, yet progressing inexorably, ‘forward ever – backward never’. Goebbels uses an excerpt from the first movement, ‘Allegretto’, of Shostakovich’s symphony, which consists of variations on the so-called invasion theme. In Socialist musicology the meaning of this theme was disputed: did it represent the attack on Leningrad by the German army, or rather the invincible power of the Red Army? This debate already sheds a light on the inner contradictions in representational theories of musical meaning – but if it does represent a meaning, then Goebbels transforms it. On the one hand, this little excerpt is hardly part of the canon of popular music; yet, on the other hand, Goebbels deploys it like any other rhythmically and agogically tantalizing sample used in other examples of popular music. And in the context of Goebbels’ piece it sonifies, it audibly displays nothing other than the utopian goal of building a socialist society – through ceaseless, stubborn everyday work, despite all obstacles and aporias. The excerpt is rather ambient in style, and its flow unifies all five parts of the suite, lightly but cohesively. It is precisely this eclectic use of diverse sources, be they pop or non-pop, and their melding into cogent pieces, that remains the central characteristic of the Pophörspiel today. In the wake of this highly acclaimed and multiply awarded piece, many other radio plays have been produced for German radio since 1990. Some of these are based on literary and historical sources, as is Goebbels’ piece; or author and musician Thomas Meinecke’s adaptations of his own experimental novels such as ‘Tomboy’ (1998) and ‘Lookalikes’ (2011). Meinecke also creates works that are stand-alone in the sense of not being based on literary antecedents, often collaborating with German DJ David Moufang; an example would be ‘WORK’ (2009). Other writers and composers develop their pieces out of various sources which are thematically centred but stylistically and historically heterogeneous. Examples of this type include Andreas Ammer’s famous ‘Radio Inferno’ (1993), with the voices of John Peel and Blixa Bargeld, and sounds by F. M. Einheit of ‘Einstürzende Neubauten’ fame, or, more recently, Zeitblom’s and Christian Wittmann’s adaptation of Ferdinand Kriwet’s ‘BeatTheater’ (2011): a radio play which upcycles Kriwet’s politically fueled stage-experiment from 1964 into a public discourse on insurrections, riots and forms of resistance after the big stock exchange crash of 2008. All these pieces by Zeitblom, Ammer and Meinecke transcend the aforementioned dichotomic demarcation between pop I and pop II as suggested by Diederichsen (1999a): they return to the radically experimental and simultaneously politically daring aesthetics of earlier avant-garde work but combine this with contemporary consumer and social media culture. They even close the gap back to the older strand of Neues Hörspiel as they reiterate and reenact avant-garde performances and address vocal, sonic or performative combinatorics and artistic research on the body, the mouth, and the musical instrument. The pervasive characteristic of

Pophörspiel: popular music in radio art  73 all these examples of the Pophörspiel is, therefore, a versatility in integrating a wide variety of musical and non-musical genres of audio art; the Pophörspiel is also a highly mediated and reflected form of applying the genres of popular music to, put bluntly, non-popular (or unpopular!) literary material. The Pophörspiel is one of the ways the German art scene has appropriated and elevated genres of popular music. That popular music needed to be elevated is a quite paradoxical and characteristic fact: in order to be acknowledged as genuine, earnest forms of cultural practices, these ‘popular’ sound practices first had to be assimilated by ‘higher’ forms of contemporary media and performance art. They had to be commissioned by one or more of the then highly influential regional public radio stations in West Germany. There is a persistent distinction in German culture between ‘high’ and ‘low’, which is – perplexingly enough – still crucial to the operation and decisions of most public (funding) institutions. The Pophörspiel represents an overcoming of this distinction, but this apparently could have only been achieved from the side of elaborate, ‘high’ radio productions.

Note 1 That is, the opening metal section is not sampled here.

Part III

Mainstreams and masses

7 Hit Men Giorgio Moroder, Frank Farian and the eurodisco sound of the 1970/80s Thomas Krettenauer Introduction Veteran hit producers Giorgio Moroder and Frank Farian have both recently been back in the pop music spotlight. Farian has found renewed success through his jukebox musical ‘Daddy Cool’ (which opened in London in 2006 and subsequently toured Europe). Moroder, having been the subject of (and contributor to) a tribute song by French electro and house specialists Daft Punk (‘Giorgio by Moroder’, from their 2013 album ‘Random Access Memories’), has re-emerged from semi-retirement to work with a wide variety of musicians and release a new album, ‘Déjà Vu’ (2015). Farian and Moroder shaped European dance music in the 1970s and 1980s, Farian through the success of his acts Boney M. and (more controversially) Milli Vanilli, Moroder through his own records and production work for a huge number of other artists, most notably Donna Summer. At least retrospectively, Moroder has gained a certain degree of musical prestige. Farian is not held in such high musical regard as Moroder, but his career represents his startling success as a pop performer, composer, producer, and Svengali. In terms of hits, Moroder’s career is, if anything, more successful, while his ‘Munich Sound’ has hugely influenced the music world since the mid–1970s. Recently, with the release of several new compilations that capture his career (‘On the Groove Train Vols. 1 & 2’ and ‘Best of Electronic Disco’, 2013), and through the activities of the Gomma label and the disco band Munk, both based in Munich, that sound is being revived (and the Bavarian metropolis is once more a hotspot for international dance music). The successes of Farian and Moroder are indisputable, and they both stand as pioneers and representative figures of 1970s/80s eurodisco, which might be more specifically called German disco, given the centrality of the German Farian and the German-speaking, Munich-based Austro-Italian Moroder to the form. Yet, despite chart-dominance and the creation of a new genre, Farian and Moroder have been, at best, completely ignored, or else held in disdain within the discourse of academic popular music studies. However, perhaps it will now be possible, after a pop-historical interval of more than 30 years since eurodisco’s initial heyday, to research the creative work of both successful producers in an objective and unprejudiced way.

78  Thomas Krettenauer

Dance-funk vs. eurodisco At the time Frank Farian became a musical talking point in Europe with his pseudonymous Boney M. and its surprise hit ‘Baby Do You Wanna Bump’ (a remake of Prince Buster’s song ‘Al Capone’, 1965) in February 1975, the disco movement in the USA still was in the its early stages. Although Farian would never achieve great success in the USA, the influence of other German artists is arguably crucial to the transformation of proto-disco into disco proper. Disco began in America as a development of soul and funk music within black (and latino) communities. These funk songs at the time and some of their predecessors contributed to becoming prototypes of a ‘black social dance music’ (Starr & Waterman, 2003: p. 361) but they were not yet disco. Then, in the mid-1970s, two disco songs produced in Germany spurred a stylistic turning point, as well as commercial lift-off: Silver Convention’s hit song ‘Fly Robin Fly’ produced by Michael Kunze hit number one on the American Billboard Hot 100 (the first German-produced song to do so), and retained top position for three weeks.1 Immediately afterwards, on November 26, 1975, came the US single release of ‘Love to Love You Baby’,2 the ‘archetypical early disco hit’ (Starr & Waterman, 2003: p. 362), sung by Donna Summer, but composed by Giorgio Moroder and producer Pete Bellotte – a multinational trio – an American (Summer) and an Englishman (Bellotte) alongside Moroder, but all then solidly based in Munich. ‘Love to Love You Baby’ reached the top positions on the Billboard Hot 100 (#2), Hot Dance Club Play (#1) and Hot R & B Songs (#3) charts: the new ‘Munich Sound’, created by Moroder and Bellotte, had arrived in triumph. At the same time, perhaps less obviously, other imports from Germany were also impacting on the development of (African American) pop music and disco culture in America, perhaps to an even greater extent, as Peter Shapiro argues: in particular, the release of the single Autobahn (May 1975, #25 on the US Billboard Hot 100 charts) by Dusseldorf’s electronic pathbreakers Kraftwerk (see Matejovski in this book) ‘created the end of the century’s most enduring rhythms’ (Shapiro, 2005: p. 84). Eurodisco as created by Kunze and then Moroder and Farian – as well as the Frenchmen Jean-Marc Cerrone and Alec R. Constandinos – had several huge successes in the US charts. But for American music journalists, especially AfroAmerican writers, and for subsequent musicological writing, it was beneath contempt. Music journalist Nelson George would characterise eurodisco as a music with a ‘metronomelike beat – perfect for folks with no sense of rhythm – almost inflectionless vocals, and metallic sexuality that matched the high-tech, highsex, and low-passion atmosphere of the glamorous discos that appeared in every American city’ (George, 1988: p. 154). In ‘Funk: The Music, the People, and the Rhythm of the One’ the music ethnologist Rickey Vincent (1996), an expert on funk, decries eurodisco productions for a lack of a cohesive musical song dramaturgy. They were, he says, ‘producer-made tunes [that] generally lack[ed] any sense of sequence – beginning, build-up, catharsis, release – yet they were simple

Hit Men: the eurodisco sound 79 and catchy enough to bring rhythmless suburbanites and other neophytes flocking to plush dance clubs at strip malls from coast to coast’ (p. 209). Back in Germany, critics have similarly preferred American dance funk over eurodisco. However, some writers saw a more nuanced picture. Thus, Gerald Hündgen (1999), arguing that any adequate assessment of 1970s disco culture must take into account the pervasive change in the functionality of (dance) music and the role of the producer, seems to see the rhythmic directness and anonymity of producer-dominated music that George and Vincent denigrate in a positive light: Disco removed the familiar divide of performing stars and consuming fans. The stars of the disco scene were the dancers, and the quality of the music was evaluated whether it fit to the dancers’ movements. [.  .  .] The artistic executives most autonomously were the producers in the music studio and the DJ in the discotheque. (pp. 129–141) On the other hand, for Hündgen, typical eurodisco suffers in comparison to songs like ‘Take Me to Heaven’ (1982) from Sylvester or ‘Lost in Music’ (1979) from Sister Sledge. For Hündgen, these tracks vividly imagine and re-create the near-religious transcendence experienced by dancers of different minorities in US discos, as well as the self-assertion and self-definition the culture of disco permitted and expressed through location, clothing and movement rites. By contrast, German productions by the likes of ‘Silver Convention or Boney M. [. . .] were only silly dance-floor-fillers [that] reduc[ed] disco to the beat’ (cf. Hündgen, 1999: p. 141ff.). Ironically, another criticism of eurodisco was that the entire style consisted of little more than close copies of elements from early recordings of Barry White, of the studio band MFSB (Philadelphia Record/Sigma Sound Studios) and of the Temptations (cf. Shapiro, 2005: p. 90) – in other words, instead of omitting the essence of the sort of music critics approved of, it was rather too similar to some Black American pop music. However, resisting invidious comparisons, this much seems fair to say: eurodisco’s technological rhythms and production methods made an impact on American disco and, while they may have missed the ‘transcendence’ of Sister Sledge, the power of eurodisco tracks as floor-fillers cannot be discounted. Peter Brackett (2015) then offers an analysis of how eurodisco differs from the US style, especially in three aspects: first, the (synthesised) vocal arrangements are more dense and voluminous, complemented by original orchestra instruments, although the vocal parts themselves are more simply structured and straightforwardly catchy. Second, the producer is the primary creative executive of the musical work – studio musicians who perform on the tracks mostly remain anonymous. Third, contemporary compilation records were often filled with collections of different eurodisco songs, augmenting DJs’ creative options for mixing, varying and re-combining musical material. This latter aspect, in particular, should not be underestimated for the subsequent development of 1980s/90s electronic dance music.

80  Thomas Krettenauer

The automation of the beat Moroder (2000) agrees that the work of European producers, pre-eminently himself, was crucial to the emergence of disco overall. He describes his initial success with ‘Love to Love You Baby’ (p. 48) as the result of an experiment with musical and studio technology and goes on to claim that the result of this experiment profoundly influenced the disco movement: ‘I think we invented the bass and bass drum sound on which every disco music is based’ (Moroder, 2008). Moroder was hardly unique in exploring the possibility of electronic sounds: synthesizers were certainly being used, for example, by contemporary ‘Krautrock’ (see Papenburg in this book) bands in Germany – most strikingly by the abovementioned Kraftwerk – while the ‘Wish You Were Here’ album by English art-rockers Pink Floyd included the song ‘Welcome to the Machine’ (which utilised synthesizers such as the EMS VSC3 and magnetic tape loops). This was the same invitation that Moroder extended, but what made Moroder different was offering this welcome on the dance floor, and developing a sound that was effective in that context. But in eurodisco, the synthesised bass/bass drum sound cannot be separated out from its interaction with other production factors. For example, the effectiveness of the new synthetically generated soundscape combined with the highly erotic ‘diva voice’ of Donna Summer and her emulators created a new sound for, and perception of, sexuality (cf. Shapiro, 2000: p. 41): this was, on the one hand, narcissistically and artificially lascivious, but, on the other hand, machine-like, sterile and strangely restrained, in that explicit lyrical content consciously eschews real emotions. Arguably, this renders eurodisco ‘camp,’3 and may be part of why, in America, disco culture was quickly adopted by gay culture and was taken up by the gay pride movement in the quest for pop-musical alternatives to the heterosexual connoted rhythm of rock and funk. The use of drum computers (and click tracks) that mechanised and normalised eurodisco rhythms – ultimately resulting in the typical funk groove of African American disco productions transmuting ‘inexorably (. . .) from funky to material’ (Shapiro, 2000) – may also have been surprisingly political, as the metronomic rhythmic stereotype of eurodisco also produced a vision of a unified Europe in times of profound socio-political upheavals and changes. Shapiro notes that ‘the Germans were the drummers, the Belgians were the bassists, the Swedes were the singers, the French and Italians were the producers and everyone but the British wrote the English-language lyrics’ (Shapiro, 2000: p. 91).

Moroder and the ‘sound of the future’ The album notes for Daft Punk’s tribute ‘Giorgio by Moroder’ gave the ‘sonic architect of ground-breaking disco and electronic’ (Heatley, 2012: CD liner notes) the opportunity to review how he discovered the synthesizer as his personal means of expression: I didn’t have any idea what to do but I knew I needed a click so we put a click on the 24 track which then was synched to the Moog modular. I knew

Hit Men: the eurodisco sound 81 that it could be a sound of the future but I didn’t realize how much impact it would be. (Giorgio by Moroder: 01:28–01:40 min) Moroder’s insight – synchronising an analogue twenty-four–track recording device and a synthesizer module with a click track – and a determination to break out of the constraints of some of popular music’s conventions set him on the path to creating the legendary ‘Munich disco sound’ in the mid-1970s. But it was his collaboration with the African American singer Donna Summer and English producer Pete Belotte (all three are credited as co-writers) that led, in 1975, to Moroder’s first worldwide success: the seventeen-minute disco miniature symphony ‘Love to Love You Baby’. Shapiro (2000) describes its musical characteristics: ‘Donna Summer simulating an orgasm over a background of blaxploitation cymbals, wah-wah-guitars, a funky-butt clarinet riff, and some synth chimes’ (p. 42). The trio – with Moroder the chief creative force – followed up with a series of singles (and albums), but 1977’s ‘I Feel Love’ (on: I Remember Yesterday) not only topped the British charts, reaching number six on the Billboard Hot One Hundred, in musical terms, it was a new milestone. After listening to the song for the first time, producer Brian Eno – famous for his own musical experiments – told David Bowie, ‘I have heard the sound of the future’ (Bowie & Loder, 1989: CD liner notes). The music was futuristic because every part of it, except Summer’s vocal part and the kick drum, had been produced synthetically: the song’s striking pulsating, layered bass line, its drums, and all other sounds were created with a modular Moog synthesizer. Other artists, like Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream or composers Jean-Jacques Perrey, had used the Moog synthesizer to imagine sonic visions of the future; Moroder’s ‘I Feel Love’ also represented something science fictional, but was more concrete and less cosmic, grounded in the effects of synthetic and machine-like music on the human body (cf. Shapiro, 2000: p. 43). It is important to stress that Moroder was not merely using synthesizers just to artificially replicate ‘traditional’ sounds. Many of the details of his productions were not only innovative but game changing for later dance music: the groundbreaking, metronomic ‘four-to-the-floor’ bass drum, which Moroder combined with an off-beat hi-hat, would become a main feature of techno and house ten years later – to the extent that techno/house updated Moroder by exaggerating what he had already done, emphasising bass frequency and making the highs more cutting. Another of Moroder’s stylistic innovations was a galloping eighth-note bass line set against a repetitive sixteenth-note synthesizer pattern (cf. Wandler, 2011). This too would become the signature feature of a subsequent dance music form, namely Hi-NRG. Moroder’s grasp of musical dynamics was also cutting edge in a more holistic sense: the constant movement of sounds he achieved, using synthesizers to replicate the spatial fullness of a soundscape in real space, amounted to a full, vivid and tonally varying production sound – the equal in musical quality to what could be achieved with traditional (studio) instruments (Wandler, 2011). Finally, Moroder augmented the musical dramaturgy of Donna Summer’s already superb vocals (‘mock-operatic fake-orgasm vocals’, Shapiro, 2005: p.  101) by adding

82  Thomas Krettenauer alienating reverb effects. For example, in ‘I Feel Love’, in the chorus and the third verse, Summer’s own voice is used as second and third voices, placed at the edges of the stereo field, supporting the main vocals in the middle, but also producing some of the artificiality or distance that makes eurodance machine-like. Moroder’s disco masterpieces, above all ‘I Feel Love’, found many admirers. Some, Eno in particular, predicted that Moroder’s sound would revolutionize club music in the long run,4 while others expressed their admiration by imitating and emulating Moroder (and rendering Eno’s prediction true in doing so). But there were critics too. Some accused Moroder of having separated the disco sound from its black roots (cf. Moroder, 2008); others found fault in the repetitive monotony of the music, as well as the pseudo-erotic sterility and lack of soul in Summer’s vocal style. The music may have throbbed and had a pulse like a racing heartbeat, but ‘I Feel Love’ was a record almost devoid of the physicality so often attributed to black people. There was no athleticism, no bump and grind, no sweat, no blood. (Shapiro, 2005: p. 102) Furthermore, besides the musical gains and losses of making disco less ‘black’, Moroder’s successes may have contributed to unfortunate socio-economic consequences, as not only disco’s artistic but also its commercial power once again escaped the African American communities that most needed it.

The ‘German disco disaster’: Frank Farian and Boney M. This article began with two names: Giorgio Moroder and Frank Farian. It is now clear that even Moroder’s critics acknowledge his impact on music. But what of Farian? After having sold much more than 800 million records (Die Welt, 2007) and having received countless gold and seven platinum record awards, it seems very surprising that such a successful producer should be rarely mentioned much more than in passing in music handbooks and encyclopaedias, or in articles written by pop-historians. Yet, despite his success – and awards – Farian has always been an outsider in the German popular music scene, and few artists can have met with more criticism, and hostility, than ‘Hit Man’ Farian, who, with Moroder, deserves to be called the co-founder of the ‘German disco disaster’ (cf. Rijven, 1989: p. 215) or ‘disco music of the machine’ according to his biographical entry in the Munzinger archive (cf. Munzinger Online/Pop – Pop-Archiv International, 2015). But, to date, very few academic researchers have considered Farian’s career, or attempted a fair evaluation of his achievements in pop music, his work and its reception. Polemical attacks, and even malice, directed at Farian and his pop acts abound in contemporaneous music criticism, journalism, and even the feature pages of broadsheet newspapers. Such attacks target Farian’s music – and Farian himself – but they also reveal very many journalists, musicians and fans, in Europe and the

Hit Men: the eurodisco sound  83 USA, who reject and are even angered by the machine aesthetics of disco music, as well as the patriarchal omnipotence of the ‘über-producer’ (Shapiro, 2005: p. 96). The problems were not only musical, but ideological, as the centralized power of the producer signified also a neglect of any content but the beat. Disco music was not about listening to music but rather about dancing to it. It was not concerned with important spiritual or social issues; it was about fun. And perhaps most important to the musicians involved, disco was not about the specific artists but about the beat in general – and this beat was often provided by a machine. It took the production authority away from the artist and turned it back over to the producer. (Covach, 2006: p. 394) In the 1970s, disco was met with a great deal of tension-filled antagonism, both musically and youth-culturally. Truly, disco was ‘[h]ated by some, celebrated by others on the dance floor’ (Wagner, 1999: p. 110). The hostility towards Farian, whose greatest success, despite forays into America, remained in Europe, may not have had to do with explicit racism or homophobia – although the fact that he used black singers in Boney M. (and later Milli Vanilli) may have contributed. Rather, the main problem with Farian seems to have been a perceived lack of authenticity. Farian started out as a schlager singer, something which would already have coded him somewhere between musically dull and inauthentic in the view of most critics, and perhaps also as less than progressive politically (Moroder and Bellotte had no such dubious background). He was not, however, a successful schlager singer, so he took what proved to be a decisive step: in 1975 he unified the role of composer, producer, instrumentalist and singer to produce ‘Baby Do You Wanna Bump’, which he released under the pseudonym Boney M. Other than the contributions of some anonymous female session singers, the song was almost entirely an artefact of studio technology. For instance, Farian recorded himself singing in both falsetto and a deep bass, using technology to enhance the results. The record was relatively successful and fans demanded live performances, so Farian put together a quartet of singers and dancers to perform as Boney M. on stage. Convinced that the song represented a musical concept outside of the European mainstream, Farian selected performers with ‘exotic appeal’ to visually enhance the song’s otherness. His exotic others were from the West Indies: Liz Mitchell and Marcia Bennett from Jamaica, Maizie Williams from Montserrat, and Bobby Farrell from Aruba. The three women were, in fact, female dancers but fortunately were also capable singers, who, after ‘Baby Do You Wanna Bump’, would go on to perform more and more of Boney M.’s female vocal parts, not only stage but also on recordings, thus ensuring that the ‘artificial’ music of Boney M. was not shaped by Farian’s artifice entirely alone. Farrell, however, never developed into much of a singer, and always had to lip-synch to playbacks of his producer’s vocals. The launch of Boney M. may seem to have been somewhat improvised, but once under way, Farian’s synthesis of European pop idioms with exotic flair

84  Thomas Krettenauer created a style with international appeal that produced such successful singles as ‘Daddy Cool’ (September  1976), ‘Sunny’ (November  1976), ‘Ma Baker’ (May 1977) and ‘Belfast’ (September 1977). From the album ‘Nightflight to Venus’ (1978) came the mega-hit ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’ (April 1978)5 and ‘Rasputin’ (August 1978). Boney M.’s music is typically seen as unsophisticated, and Farian’s exoticism as shallow. In fact, Farian’s range is impressive, from European pop structures through Afro-Caribbean elements (the reggae of ‘Do You Wanna Bump’, the rocksteady of ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’) to Tunisian folk songs (‘Ma Baker’). Furthermore, Farian was fully capable of modifying his pop-musical blueprint to meet the stylistic requirements of a given song. Wright (2007) provides an analysis of Farian’s musical ingenuity, for example, in ‘Rasputin’ – following nineteenth-century opera composers, Farian utilises modal scales (Aeolian, Mixolydian) in the instrumental intro and chorus to musically depict the legendary (and sinister) Russian mystic as geographically, historically, and perhaps humanly, distant. Despite the structural conventionality of the song, this impression of otherness is further enhanced by the contrapuntal writing of the instrumental parts in the intro (in open fifth and fourth intervals) as well as by a predominant ‘tonal openness’ resulting from a deliberate avoidance of triad. Thus, in ‘Rasputin’, Farian deploys a battery of appealing compositional elements with mass appeal to a Western pop audience6 that also form an intelligent counterpoint for Western pop music listeners not only to other Boney M. songs, but also to the majority of contemporary disco hits based on pop music’s predominant idiom, triad harmony. It is interesting to note that Boney M. was the first European pop group to perform in the Soviet Union, putting on ten shows in December 1978 on the invitation of premier Leonid Brezhnev (Wright 2007: p. 48f.). Because of its sexual lyrics, Soviet officials forbade Boney M. to perform their Russian song, ‘Rasputin’, but it was in fact extremely popular across the Soviet Union (cf. Briggs, 2015: p. 259f.).

Milli Vanilli: pop scandal and historic turning point Boney M. are not the only reason Frank Farian has found his place in the history books of popular music. Ten years after the pomp of Boney M., he brought another, hugely successful pop product to the world, the pop/r’n’b act Milli Vanilli. This band first found fame – the North American version of their first album, ‘Girl You Know It’s True’, was number one in both the USA and Canada, and won the group the Grammy for Best New Artist in 1990 – and then infamy, when the world discovered that the duo fronting Milli Vanilli, Robert Pilatus and Maurice Morvan, did not sing on their records, and only lip-synched on stage. A glitch in a playback device during a live performance of the single ‘Girl You Know It’s True’ (in Bristol, Connecticut on November 19, 1990) exposed the lipsynching of the duo and revealed one of the ‘most shameful not-actually-singing debacles in pop music history’ (Hemert, 2010), a scandal that tainted everybody,

Hit Men: the eurodisco sound 85 from Morvan, Pilatus and Farian, through to the jurors of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences that had honoured Milli Vanilli with a Grammy and the music industry as a whole for ‘Best New Artist 1989’. Negative headlines appeared worldwide, the Grammy was withdrawn, class action and consumer protection lawsuits were prosecuted on behalf of US fans who had bought Milli Vanilli records – resulting in a mass refund offer – and Farian made a public apology in New York. In reality, Farian (1991) was unrepentant, and claimed that Milli Vanilli merely continued a long tradition of vocal (and other) fakery in show business, noting that ‘[h]ired voices have a long history in the annals of pop. Audrey Hepburn did not sing a single note in “My Fair Lady”. Nor is the butt of the leading actress in “Pretty Woman” even real. That’s entertainment!’ (Farian, quoted cf. Mießgang & Gröbehen, 1991). Despite such protestations, Milli Vanilli, as a ‘no voice’ group fronted by a pair of contractually controlled dancers, may have betrayed the trust with the global musical public. However, Farian is undisputedly correct that Milli Vanilli were not the first act whose live performances used playback, whose recordings substituted session vocalists for ostensible vocalists, and whose albums’ liner notes reveal lists of studio professionals jobbing in place of band members. (After all, Farian himself had already done this to an extent with Boney M.) What was perhaps the true Milli Vanilli scandal for international music and media was the frank confession of both the duo and the producer, a confession that made public common practices of the music industry and cast in doubt not only the commercial honesty of that industry, but also notions of artistic authenticity or integrity which were greatly valued by many fans, critics and, indeed, musicians. Perhaps, however, the mask had been stripped away to reveal the same face beneath. The machines and machinations of Moroder had been disliked because the controlling producer was seen somehow as a non-musical or inauthentic figure. But this criticism depends on certain assumptions that the Milli Vanilli revelation may have problematised forever. As Patrick Hughes could already argue in 1992: These developments constitute an industrialisation of contemporary popular music production, and challenge our traditional beliefs about music. In any analysis of the Milli Vanilli episode, those developments should cause us to (. . .) doubt whether ‘authenticity” and ’musical ability’ are still useful terms with which to assess contemporary popular music. (p. 42) Certainly, according to Hughes, the trust of the general audience in the authenticity of music and its production in relation to its live performance was shaken by Milli Vanilli. Yet this breach of trust simultaneously poses urgent questions: can (pop) music that results from highly technological production processes even exist without medial forms? Is the live performance of a song merely an

86  Thomas Krettenauer audio-technological recreation of the original (authentic) studio recording? Hughes continues: ‘Girl You Know It’s True’! Does a composer “produce” such a song? Does a performer “produce” a particular rendition of that song on record? Or does the producer of that record “produce” the songs that the listener hears? (Mießgang & Gröbehen: p. 43) For Peter Wicke (2012) the Milli Vanilli scandal is not a scandal, but one of the greatest curiosities of pop history: The artist only provides the raw material as the microphone becomes the instrument for the disembodied tone of the media age [. . .] The technological synthesis of voice and body was turned into reality for the first time and concealed on stage through technical means. (p. 97) Perhaps, with Milli Vanilli, Farian had solved Walter Benjamin’s puzzles about the ‘the work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction’ as Baudrillard suggested, by making the simulacrum real. Or perhaps he had simply revealed again what Moroder had already made apparent, that the studio composer/producer is just as authentically an artist or entertainer as the singer-songwriter or stage performer.

Conclusion: I remember yesterday Throughout their careers, Giorgio Moroder and Frank Farian have both made decisive interventions in national and international pop music culture. Both producers were most successful in the disco era, but after disco they developed rather different artistic careers. Moroder worked, amongst other things, as a film composer and writer of anthems for international sporting events. Farian made use of his own musical leftovers by remixing his old hits, and he also continued to seek out and manage/produce new pop acts, including TRY’N’B  – a group composed of the session vocalists behind Milli Vanilli whom Farian also promoted, with some chutzpah, as the Real Milli Vanilli – an updated dance duo, La Bouche (techno/high NRG), and the latin pop trio No Mercy from New York. Yet, although Moroder and Farian both relocated to the USA, they never again recreated their 1970s success, nor did they contribute directly to newer pop music trends such as hip-hop, house or techno in the 1990s. Although neglected or held in disdain for a long time, Giorgio Moroder’s extensive work in pop music and his visionary role as the pioneering architect of a synthesizer-based dance music, the ‘sound of the future’, are being rediscovered and adequately honoured by music experts, especially thanks to the recent release of the tribute paid to him by Daft Punk in 2013. Frank Farian has not yet met with a similar revival in reputation, and it remains to be seen if his achievements and output as a producer and creator will come to be reevaluated in the

Hit Men: the eurodisco sound 87 journalistic-academic discourse or if changes in general pop culture will return his work or influence to prominence. Unfortunately for Farian, the accepted opinion among critics that his work is trivial (cf. Mießgang & Gröbehen, 1991) seems to be matched by a certain lack of interest in the collective pop memory regarding even the hits of Boney M. Although ‘Daddy Cool’, the jukebox musical based around Boney M. and other Farian songs, which Farian developed and financed, did return him briefly to the spotlight, it did not achieve the success of its exemplars, ‘Mamma Mia’ and ‘We Will Rock You’ (based around the music of ABBA and Queen, respectively). Opening in September  2006 in London, it closed in February 2007, after only six months, and although subsequently staged in Berlin, Amsterdam and Palma de Mallorca, it has not really resonated, even nostalgically, with the public.

Notes 1 ‘Fly Robin Fly’ was also number one on the US Billboard Hot Disco/Dance, US Billboard Hot Soul Single, in the US magazines Cash Box and Record World and in the Canadian Singles Charts. Its single was awarded gold in the USA for having sold over 1,000,000 copies and received platinum status in Canada for 150,000 copies sold. 2 From Donna Summer’s same-titled second studio album ‘Love to Love You Baby’, recorded from May to June  1975; on the A-side of the album is the 16:50 minute extended version of the song. 3 In Susan Sontag’s foundational ‘Notes on “Camp” ’ (1996) she identifies its complex intersection of characteristics: it is artificial, excessive, likes to shock, avoids serious content, ‘it wants to enjoy’, and it is, even when cynical, sweet. She also sees camp as apolitical, but other writers, particularly queer theorists, argue that a deliberately chosen ‘shallowness’ can be political (cf. ibid., pp. 275–292). 4 Eno’s remarks cited above, continue: ‘This single is going to change the sound of club music for the next fifteen years’ – which David Bowie, reporting this conversation after most of those fifteen years, in 1989, notes, ‘was more or less right’ (cf. Bowie & Loder, 1989). 5 ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’ was a cover of a song, originally by rocksteady group The Melodians (1970), based on the Old Testament (Psalms 19 and 137). Within one week of its release it had sold more than 1,000,000 copies in (West) Germany, continuing to dominate the German charts for four months. In France it sold 500,000 copies, and in the UK 1.9 million copies, topping the charts for five weeks. Having fallen down the British charts, it climbed back up to number 3 when radio DJs began playing its B-side, ‘Brown Girl in the Ring’, which was also released as a stand-alone A-side in Canada. In total, ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’/‘Brown Girl in the Ring’ sold more than 4 million copies worldwide. 6 Not as huge a hit as its predecessor, ‘Rasputin’ nonetheless reached number 1 in (West) Germany, Austria and Australia, and number 2 in the UK and Switzerland.

8 A re-encounter with the Scorpions’ ‘Wind of Change’ Why I couldn’t stand it then – what I learn from analysing it now Ralf von Appen The fact that the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 and West Germany, where I lived, was reuniting with East Germany meant nothing to me. I was fourteen, didn’t have any relatives ‘over there’, and knew the East only from the news. Events in Russia were, of course, even farther away. What did matter to me, though, was that the Scorpions, one of my favourite bands, chose this pivotal moment to start making music that sucked. I may not have recognised that from the start, when ‘Crazy World’ came out in 1990. ‘Wind of Change’ was not the lead single, but lurked between somewhat better tracks like the opener, ‘Tease Me Please Me’ and. . . Oh, looking at the CD right now, I think that first track was probably the only half-decent song on the album. ‘Money and Fame’? ‘Kicks After Six’? I have no idea what they sound like and that doesn’t happen often to me with music from my teenage years: in those days, when you spent half your monthly pocket money on a CD, you simply listened to it as often as it took to like it. It must have been around 1986 that a friend from school lent me his cassette of ‘World Wide Live’, the band’s live recording released the year before. The only way for me to copy it was to ask my mum to bring a second tape recorder from the school she taught at so that I could put my machine in front of the borrowed one with the built-in microphone of one facing the other’s speakers, press play and record/play respectively, and ask anyone around to be very quiet for the next 90 minutes. I just loved every song on it. The Scorpions were probably the first ‘heavy’ band I listened to after years on a diet of Top 10 hits and German teenager punk. I felt like I was growing up. This album was different; it had songs you wouldn’t hear on the radio or TV. It brought you nearer to the older boys at school who wore leather jackets and denim vests adorned with skulls and cool logos. It seemed more serious than the songs I’d liked before, and the guys in the band really knew how to play guitar. And boy, had they the coolest looking guitars ever! I can’t really remember a specific point at which I started to dislike the band. But the fact that ‘Wind of Change’ became the soundtrack for many news reports about German reunification and the crumbling of the Soviet Union definitely played a part in the process. As a teenaged boy, the whole impetus behind listening to hard rock, heavy metal or punk is to construct a certain male identity: you want to demonstrate something to your classmates, your parents, and yourself. It

A re-encounter with the Scorpions 89 most certainly doesn’t help when the man whose posters hang on your wall starts whistling cheesy melodies in public. Of course, the Scorpions had been known before for their sweet ballads like ‘Holiday’ or ‘Still Loving You’. Those were not my favourites, but they proved useful when you needed something to put on a mixtape for a girl. But ‘Wind of Change’? That wasn’t even a love song! It was kind of political – but not in the cool sense of being against something. This was not against anything. Worse, it even celebrated what politicians had done (at least that’s what I thought back then) and depicted a world where everything is fine, bathing in happiness just like the schlager (see Mendívil in this book) I detested tended to. Happy songs were always suspicious: As long as music was loud, heavy, fast, or aggressive you were on the safe side and knew that it had some authenticity. But this song was liked by parents, politicians, and all the other wrong kinds of people. I never bought any of their records again. My mother did.

Why analyse? Originally, what I wanted to achieve in this chapter was to (a) write about a very popular German band that has been almost entirely ignored from an academic point of view, and (b) to make a case for musical analysis, which has often been underrated in popular music studies. But thinking about it, I realised that the Scorpions’ biggest hit might just be the worst possible example to choose, since the song’s huge success does not seem to be based on musical merits. An analysis of the song’s form, harmonic and melodic structure, etc. surely cannot answer why ‘Wind of Change’ has become the best selling song ever by any German musician, or what it meant to those millions of listeners, or why I still didn’t like it. So to make the point that analysis is essential when studying how people use popular music in their daily lives, how they ascribe meanings to it, and why they like certain pieces more than others, I should just drop ‘Wind of Change’ and look for a better example. But on second thought, that would be to concede the futility of analysis! What better way to understand musical analysis’s potential and limitations than a challenging case like this? Of course, ‘Wind of Change’ was the right song at the right time. It wouldn’t have had its success in any other year. People in both former parts of Germany needed a song to celebrate the revolution, the promise of freedom, and the fact that non-violent political movements were possible. On the other hand, if the lyrics had been published as a poem or sung to the tune of any other Scorpions song, it also would not have had the same impact. So it must be something about the music that so many people reacted to. And the only way to study this is musical analysis.

Analysis Focusing on song form first, we see that ‘Wind of Change’ has five individual sections (see Table 8.1). The rather long intro is repeated after the first double-verse and serves as an outro as well, which makes for a symmetrical layout. The three

90  Ralf von Appen Table 8.1  Song structure of ‘Wind of Change’ 0:00

5+ 3 x 2/4

intro

F/d/F/d/a /d* / a* / G*

0:21

3+ 3 x 2/4

versex 1

C / d / C /d* / a* / G*

0:36 0:50 1:10 1:25 1:40

versex 2 re-intro verse 3 versex 4 chorusx

6

1:59

2

2:06 2:20 2:35 2:55 3:14

6 6 8

time to breathe verse 5 versex 1 chorus chorusx bridge

3:39

8

solo

4:04 4:23 4:45

6 6 5+ fermata

chorus chorusx outro

[C is not yet established as tonic] IV / ii / IV / ii / viii* / vi* / V* I / ii / I /ii* / vi* / V*

|: C – G / d – G :|a – F / G C/C

|: I – V / ii – V :|vi – IV / V I/I

a / G / a / G /C / d/E/E F – G / E – a / F – G / a /F – G / E – a /d/E

[A minor:] |: i / bVII :|III / iv / V / V [A minor:]bVI – bVII / V – i / bVI – bVII / ibVI – bVII / V – i / iv / V [back in C major]

F/d/F/d/ a /d

fermata on D minor

Note: * marks bars with 2/4 metre; the subscripted x indicates if the title line is sung and whether it appears at the beginning or end of a section; lowercase letters and Roman numerals signify minor chords.

double verses all use the same harmonic progression but differ in their unpredictable inclusion of the song’s title. Instead of new lyrics for the sixth verse, the lyrics for verse 1 are repeated, which again creates symmetry and memorability. The song can be divided into two main parts, the first being dominated by verses, the second by repeated choruses: At 2:35, 22.5 out of 43.5 bars are parts of verses, while 24 out of the final 45 bars belong to choruses. In order not to wear out its welcome early in the song, the only chorus heard in the first part is only given 6 bars. All later choruses double that with slight lyrical variations, the title line only appearing at the end of every other chorus – just as it ends only half of the verses. At 3:14, the verse/chorus structure is contrasted by an 8-bar bridge section  – a time-honoured tradition that pop songwriters have been using for decades to surprise listeners and thereby keep their attention. In contrast to the other parts, the song’s title opens this section instead of ending it (reversing the trick used in the Beatles’ ‘Yesterday’). The bridge is followed by an 8-bar guitar solo over a

A re-encounter with the Scorpions 91 new chord progression. Altogether, the song is composed of 33 bars of ‘original’ material, which means that in 63 percent of the song we hear repetitions and variations of progressions and melodies already known from earlier in the song. All in all, the formal structure is more typical of pop than hard rock. On the other hand, it is unusual for a pop song that the first chorus is withheld until 1:40 and that we are offered five different harmonic progressions. What is most striking when looking at the song’s form in Table 8.1 is the frequent use of asymmetric hypermeters. The vast majority of popular songs are composed of sections of 8, 16, or 32 bars in common time. In ‘Wind Of Change’, however, only the bridge and the solo stick to this rule. The intro begins with 5 bars of 4/4 time in which the chords change at the beginning of each measure. But then the next three chords change every two beats, creating the slightly irritating effect of 3 half bars with arpeggiated chords sounding before the following verse picks up the 4/4 time again. The same trick is used throughout the verses as well. The chorus uses irregular hypermeter in a different way: here, the vocal melody and the drums suggest 4/4 time while the chords keep changing every two beats until the very last bar, where the dominant is held for a whole measure. In combination with the melody, this results in an uncommon 2+2+1+1 phrase structure. Therefore, in the hypermeter the obvious choices are avoided in favour of more asymmetric structures. Many listeners will not consciously recognise this as an uncommon structure – I certainly didn’t until I took notes for this paper – but nevertheless the irregularities save the song from being boring without making it sound quirky or cumbersome. They might also account for the song’s longevity, making it interesting enough to have real staying power. Focusing on the harmonic structure, it is remarkable that the song features five different sections (two or three would be common for most chart hits). While many Scorpions songs avoid a clear major tonality by using power chords on the roots of a pentatonic or minor scale, this song is firmly set in the key of C major. But because the C chord is avoided throughout the intro, the key becomes evident only when the last chord, G major, resolves to C at the transition from the intro to verse 1. Until then, one might take F to be the tonal centre in a lydian context (the b natural in the whistled melody and in the G major chord hinders us from hearing F major). All in all, the song’s harmonic progressions are strictly functional, with no accidentals or modal interchanges. Like the intro and re-intro, all verses and choruses close on half-cadences. At 2:55, however, the dominant does not resolve to the tonic but, in a deceptive cadence, moves to a minor, which is then confirmed as the new tonal centre for the bridge and solo sections. Again, these parts end on half cadences on the new dominant, E major. Neither leads to the minor tonic, though, but rather first moves stepwise from V to bVI at the transition to the solo and then – not very elegantly, but in an uplifting way – leaps from E to the new (and old) tonic C major. What most of the sections have in common is that they shuttle back and forth twice (I – ii in the verses, IV – ii in the intro, i – bVII in the bridge) before setting out for the dominant. The verses appear rather calm, hardly departing from the tonic and requiring little energy for the stepwise movements between tonic and

92  Ralf von Appen supertonic. The choruses seem more energetic as they feature larger root movements and change chords twice per measure. These changes and, more importantly, the quaver appoggiaturas that the bass guitar plays steadily stimulate a swaying bodily movement of a kind that reminds me of ‘schunkeln’ (sway to music) at the Oktoberfest (can you get more German than that?) or of waving a large flag at the soccer stadium. This rhythm might account for why most people seem to find the chorus celebratory and catchy, but to me it has always felt rather annoying (as it is always obnoxious when music tries to command you to experience joy). The song ends neither on C major nor A minor, but just stops in the middle of the intro progression, with a fermata on D minor, resulting in an ending that steps back a little from the festive energy of the chorus and, to me, sounds contemplative rather than triumphant. All in all, the song’s harmonic structure is quite elaborate, and, with its major tonality and functional harmony, seems more typical of a pop rather than a hard rock song. I will resist a detailed analysis of melodic and rhythmic structures, as this would require not only many more pages but also transcriptions of more than the few measures that copyright law would allow me to reproduce here. Suffice it to say that the melodic material sticks to the C major scale (A harmonic minor respectively in the bridge) without any further accidentals or blue notes. Klaus Meine often sings the thirds or fifths of the accompanying chords, the only dissonance being a seventh over the dominant G on the word ‘moment’. This ‘playing by the rules’ might be consistent with the mood of the lyrics. To me, however, this ‘lack of rebellion’ has always sounded bland. By avoiding the root notes, the chorus melody keeps flowing on without ever reaching a home base and can therefore easily be repeated. The melodic range is very narrow, limited to only a fifth (C4 to G4) in the chorus, and G3 to G4 in the verses. Thus, it is easy to sing along to. In the verses, Meine sings mainly quavers, dotted quavers, and semiquavers, which gives the melody’s rhythm more of a speech-like quality, while the only longer note is reserved for the key word ‘change’. The chorus, in contrast, features melismas and longer notes that give it a more hymn-like character. While the chorus melody starts on the down beat (‘take’), many of the following down beats are anticipated by a semiquaver both rhythmically and diastematically (as in ‘moment’, ‘glory’, ‘away’, ‘change’) – adding some much-needed drive and spice to keep the melody from being static and predictable. The lyrics don’t seem remarkable in any way to me. For people who witnessed glasnost and perestroika, words like ‘Moskva’, ‘Gorky Park’, and ‘soldiers’ tie the song strongly to the events of 1989, but they do not make explicit political statements. The lyrics are more impressionistic than narrative, as they illustrate feelings and offer words (‘glory’, ‘dream’) and metaphors (‘children of tomorrow’, ‘wind of change’) with positive but vague associations, perhaps enabling people to ascribe their own meanings to the rather scant information given. The main lyrical aim seems to be to express a positive atmosphere of hope for a better future without going into any political details. And the alliteration ‘magic of the moment’ just sounds nice.

A re-encounter with the Scorpions  93 Meine’s characteristically nasal and slightly raspy voice seems to be moved by the events he is singing about, but not in a triumphant or boastful way. On this recording, he offers a calm, sensitive, and peaceful voice with nothing of the aggressiveness and piercingly high range he is able to produce. He sings rather quietly but is positioned loudly in the centre of the mix. The impression of peacefulness is supported by his controlled vibrato, an exuberant use of ambience and delay, and soft overdubbed vocals that double (‘like brothers’) or echo (‘dream away’) Meine’s words at a few selected spots. His gentle whistling, the smooth, attack-less synth pads that sound choir-like, and the sweetly strummed stereo acoustic guitars further enhance this atmosphere. Contrasting this calm is the really powerful drum sound that is drenched in ambience and whose pretentiousness – to my ears – does not really match the more modest atmosphere created by the other instruments. To the musicians, it might have seemed a necessary genre marker to signify the band’s credibility (putting the power in the ‘power ballad’). Besides, the strong drums are used to enhance the dynamics during the course of the song and to emphasise the emotional intensity provided by Meine’s exalted backing vocals in the second chorus.

Conclusion I hope to have offered some explanations for the track’s general success: its structure is just unusual enough to remain interesting, it mixes rock and pop elements, its melody is easy to sing along to, yet it combines calm and energy, celebration and contemplation, its swaying rhythm is apposite to its theme, its lyrics are evocatively unspecific, and Meine’s singing admits strong emotion in a measured way, suitable to the historic story being told. At the same time, I can easily see why I didn’t like it back then: to me, all the softness and overproduction failed to generate the intended goose bumps, while all the raw power of other Scorpions songs was gone. ‘Wind of Change’ tried to walk the line between hard rock and pop, and for many people it succeeded completely in this, but not for me. It was aimed at the mainstream market, which I didn’t want to belong to, and, therefore, the song offered nothing to identify with. From the musicological point of view that affects (and maybe sometimes obstructs?) my listening today, however, I have to respect that the song is well constructed, especially when you consider that this is the very first song for which singer Meine is credited as composer. Ultimately, there is no objectivity when it comes to the experience of music. We can never know for sure what others hear in a song; we can only try to understand the rationales of our own interpretations and then communicate them in a way that helps others to think about theirs. I’m sorry, but that’s why I had to talk about myself so much. It was the only honest way to talk about this song.

9 Modern Talking, musicology and I Analysing and interpreting forbidden fruit André Doehring I am not a fan of Modern Talking. It may seem odd to begin an article on this commercially successful German pop duo in this manner, and yet German musicologists who want to analyse Modern Talking’s music cannot avoid this kind of statement. First, it is still widely assumed by the general public that musicologists conduct research on ‘valuable’ music, that is, ‘classical’ music that has been artfully composed that, in this sense, is conceived as a work of art and is contemplated by only a very few members of society in the adequate setting of the classical concert. Second, there is a tacit consent that musicologists conduct research on music they love (and thereby affirm its value. Imagine, if you can, a Schubert scholar writing about his dislike of Schubert’s music). Thus, dissociating myself from the seemingly inadequate object of study – popular wellselling dance music – may be mistaken at first glance as an attempt to save my musicological grace (if there’s any). My disclaimer at the beginning of this essay concerning dissociating myself from the seemingly inadequate object of study – popular well-selling dance music – may be read at first glance as an attempt to dissociate myself from Modern Talking and to save my reputation as a musicological grace (if there’s any). There is, however, more to it than meets the eye. To my knowledge, no musicologists have yet used analysis as method of choice to approach this band; the reasons for this conspicuous lack of scholarship are likely to be obvious by now. Considering recent developments in the field of popular music analysis that I describe as a subjective turn, my initial statement is a prerequisite for what is to follow. Using the highly subjective method of analysis and writing from a distinctly German perspective, I identify several characteristic features of Modern Talking’s music that will be the basis for my subsequent interpretation of the music and the band.

Popular dance music and the silences of musicology The music historian Elijah Wald (2014) recently reminded scholars working on popular music of what has been largely ignored in their field: the staggering number of popular songs that were really popular in their time and to which many people danced night after night. Scholars associated with new musicology have

Modern Talking, musicology and I 95 shown that the exclusion of certain genres of music from the canon goes hand in hand with the social exclusion of the other to thwart claims to power in the field. In general, the music is marginalised because of differences in terms of gender, race, class and, especially in light of the Anglocentric focus of popular music studies, place. Another reason for the conspicuous silence of musicologists concerning German popular dance music and bands such as Modern Talking may be that most scholars do not appreciate or are not familiar with electronic or digital music, in part because, in terms of their own musical activities, personal preferences and expertise, classical music and/or rock music is more important to them (cf. Doehring, 2015). As a consequence, the central activity connected to the pleasure of popular music is dropped from the agenda, as Wald (2014) argues in a pointed and admittedly gendered manner: There is typically a huge divide between people who care about preserving and analyzing music and people who just like to dance. I often describe that divide in a way that is kind of a joke, but also uncomfortably true: The typical consumer of Western popular music is a teenage girl who likes to dance, while the typical critic or scholar is a man who had no dates in high school. (p. 29) Because of the developments described so far, ‘academic attention [is] being paid to music favoured by men who don’t dance – for example, punk, rap and heavy metal’ (Wald, 2014: p. 34), and this pattern is, in light of the gender imbalance in musicology in general and German musicology in particular, likely to persist unless we attempt to break the established silences of popular music research.

Modern Talking and analysis Dieter Bohlen and Thomas Anders (born Bernd Weidung) founded the German duo Modern Talking in 1984. Prior to this event, Bohlen, who was born in 1954, had written and produced schlager (see Mendívil in this book), and, working in the same genre, the 21-year-old singer Anders had released nine singles. Neither one of them had been successful. This changed dramatically after they founded Modern Talking: their first five singles topped the German charts, and Modern Talking is said to have sold 120 million records worldwide, even though Bohlen and Anders worked together for only two periods between 1984 and 1987 and between 1998 and 2003. As indicated by these numbers, Modern Talking is, with the possible exception of Boney M. (see Krettenauer in this book), Germany’s bestselling popular music export. Unfortunately, musicologists did not start to engage with the music that millions of people purchased and enjoyed; paraphrasing the Bavarian author Karl Valentin, one could say that Modern Talking was not even ignored by the discipline. As a consequence, it forewent its ‘unique selling proposition’, that is, its ability to contribute to and intervene in the discourse on popular music by analysing the sound structures of popular music.

96  André Doehring Of course, popular music is, as the inter- and transdisciplinary field of popular music studies has clearly demonstrated, more than just music. But to neglect or, at times, even to ignore the sound and its structure does not seem to be a very promising approach from a musicological point of view because it is the sounding structure that enables the attribution of certain meanings to music (cf. Doehring, 2012; Moore, 2012; Tagg, 2013). Every reception of music and the subsequent creation of meaning are affected by the prior encounters with a given sound. So if we can show of what that sound consists and this triggers certain meanings more often than other ones, we might come to understand why people react in a certain manner to this sound. In recent years, the analysis of popular music has changed dramatically from a common, yet suspiciously eyed tool used to prove complex artfulness of popular music (or, conversely, to show the inanity of a pop song) to an established array of methods that allow for the process of connecting meaning to musical means beyond aesthetic turf wars (cf. Appen, Doehring, Helms & Moore, 2015). In this context, a subjective turn arose in which particularly the person of the analyst, who usually hid behind the music and the scholarly writing on it, has increasingly become the focus and the subject of critical inquiry. This development has been referred to as the subjective turn.

Results The data used in this study were generated in a corpus analysis of the 59 songs included on the six studio albums released by Modern Talking between April 1985 and November 1987.1 Generally, corpus analyses provide the opportunity to detect similarities in the musical material spanning several albums or years. Here, I will have to focus on the aspects of tempo, form and harmony: The 59 songs have an average tempo of 108 bpm (sd 16.3). But 11 slower songs – the love songs and Christmas ballads – clearly stand out from the rest so that the remaining 48 tracks have an average of 115 bpm and a standard deviation of 4.9. On each album, which, except for one, feature ten songs, the slower songs appear on positions 2 or 3 and 7 or 8. You know what to expect when you play an album by Modern Talking: a straight moderate tempo for dancing. Remember to skip titles two times, though. A closer examination of formal aspects reveals that standardization plays a crucial role. The typical form of a Modern Talking song is as follows: intro – verse – chorus – re-intro – verse – chorus-section with repetitions. Each block consists of eight bars that are repeated. Variations in terms of length occur only to signal the appearance of a new part. Following from this, we did not find evidence for the importance of other common forms used in popular music, for example the strophic AAA form, the twelve-bar blues form or the thirty-two–bar American popular song form AABA: overall, there are only four distinct bridges (6.8 per cent) in the corpus.

Modern Talking, musicology and I 97 In a pop song, the chorus section is usually the part of the song that appeals to listeners the most, and for this reason, Bohlen puts a lot of effort into forming this section: in two thirds (67.8 per cent) of the repertoire, there is a tripartite structure consisting of pre-chorus, chorus and a post-chorus commonly used in a Modern Talking song, with the high-pitched male voices reminiscent of the Bee Gees. This post-chorus can be observed in 81.4 per cent of all songs by Modern Talking. The majority of the songs (52.6 per cent) are composed in a minor mode; only 15.2 per cent stand a major mode. A third of all songs (32.2 per cent) modulate the centre. Of these, 63.2 per cent modulate from a minor mode into a major mode only for the timespan of the chorus – so the overall feeling of a typical MT song being in a minor mode is even enhanced. Of all modulations, 94.7 per cent modulate into the parallel key. The favourite key used by Modern Talking key is d minor, probably because it is easier to play on the synthesizer used by Bohlen, a self-educated guitar player, for the composition and pre-production of the demo tape. In most of the songs, we do not find any chord alterations; they are first used tentatively on the sixth album. Modern Talking’s songs written in a major mode solely apply functional harmony, whereas those in a minor mode use modal harmony almost exclusively: on the first three albums, only the Aeolian natural minor mode can be found (iv, v). Other modes are used on the fourth album and later ones as an alternative to the Aeolian mode, which continues to be the dominant mode. Bohlen avoids any harmonic ambiguity. Very often, the intro and the pre-chorus and post-chorus sections end on the V-chord in a major environment or on a bVII in a minor mode, often assisted in their function as Philip Tagg’s episodic marker by an additional bar and a rhythmic gesture known well from schlager. The most frequently used cadences are those that hint at a possible modulation into the parallel key (for example, in a minor environment the iv–bVII => it might be interpreted as ii – V=> I in a major mode). In addition, there is a shuttle between i–v and i–iv in the verses and choruses. Interestingly enough, the i–v in one part leads to a i–iv–shuttle in the next part. Although he does not use more than the six chords of a given scale, Bohlen tries to avoid stereotypical successions of cadences except for the ones mentioned above. The chord changes, especially those on later albums, are likely to surprise listeners in the same manner an alarm clock in the morning will surprise sleepers who have set it only hours before.

Interpretation The highly standardized features of the distinct sound by Modern Talking reflect, to some extent, the aesthetics and conditions of the professional production of popular dance music in the mid-1980s. If we look at the release dates and read about the promotional activities and concerts in the autobiographies of the two musicians (Anders, 2011; Bohlen, 2002), we will learn that there was not much time left to develop a musical language in the same manner that, for example, the Beatles could in their time from 1965 onwards. In 1984, Bohlen had already been a professional producer and songwriter for several years and possessed a

98  André Doehring developed aesthetics of popular music that conformed to the rules of the music industry. And hence, in spite of the enormous pressure associated with selling and promoting new albums or going on a tour, he readily composed and produced six albums in two and a half years. Certainly, his well-established studio team (producer Luis Rodriguez, musician and engineer Ralf Stemmann and the singers Rolf Köhler, Detlef Wiedeke, Michael Scholz and Birger Corleis) played an important role in maintaining the steady sound and flow of products. Seen in this light, it is possible to interpret the music of Modern Talking as musically streamlined: because of the success of the first single, ‘You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul’, Bohlen and his label, Hansa, a subsidiary of BMG, believed they had found a magic formula and had acquired the knowledge, material and personal conditions to cash in on this immediately, since they knew all too well that success in the music business tends to be short-lived. It is important to keep in mind that this interpretation of Modern Talking is based on an analysis that is affected by a distinct set of cultural, social and professional conditions. It presents a German perspective on Modern Talking’s music, and this perspective is very likely to differ from, for example, an Iranian or Russian one. Seen from these vantage points, Modern Talking is the epitome of Western, anti-governmental, hedonistic pop music. In contrast I tend to associate this band only with popular German TV shows in the 1980s, with people wearing funny clothes, or with rural German funfairs and discotheques where mostly drunk people danced what was then (and still is) referred to as disco fox. Furthermore, professional aspects certainly affect my analytical work. Is Modern Talking a legitimate subject of musicology? If not, publishing an article on Modern Talking just might ruin my career. And then there are several social aspects that affect my reading of Modern Talking: I was brought up in the Federal Republic of Germany in the 1980s, and like most of the kids my age, I listened to Modern Talking. I recall how I sang and danced to their music. With the advent of puberty, I stopped, probably – and, with hindsight, this has become increasingly clear to me – due to the masculinity of Thomas Anders, which was anathema to mid1980s dominant masculinity but which, for some time, was a norm I, and I will confess as much, accepted in my state of pubescent disorientation. Today, the topic of masculinity is still present in my work on Modern Talking, but this time I have developed a different perspective: in present-day Germany, it is impossible to avoid the media persona of Dieter Bohlen, since it is disseminated via several media platforms (see Ruth & Schramm in this book) by large media corporations such as Springer and Bertelsmann. And what is worse, I cannot stand the way this persona comes to represent chauvinist machismo and an ideology of neoliberalism: ‘Talent + work + work + work + work – then someday, money will be made. And if you’re making money, you’re getting women [. . .]’ (Bohlen, 2002: p. 9, transl. AD). Talking about neo-liberalism, I want to conclude by way of a paraphrase from Margaret Thatcher: for me, there is no such thing as objectivity when it comes to musicological work on Modern Talking. So listening to Modern Talking’s post-chorus falsettos, their often very ‘Germish’ use of the English language, the

Modern Talking, musicology and I 99 music’s predictable formal and harmonic layout, I cannot help but miss all the (also rhythmical) pleasure I hear in African American dance music of the 1980s. And neither can I discern the flamboyant campiness of British popular dance acts of that time; unambiguously, Bohlen and Anders wanted anything but challenging dominant gender rules.2 Instead, I hear professional German musicians from the musical world of schlager anxiously meeting the demands of the music market to make more money to get more girls. As will have become clear by now, I am not a fan of Modern Talking’s music. But nevertheless, or for this very reason, I submit my analytical findings to what I hope will be an emerging discourse on popular dance music, a discourse that will have to put forth an intersubjective as well as intercultural account about the (dis-) pleasures of engaging in sounding structures.

Notes 1 In the first period, the characteristic Modern Talking sound was shaped that also guided their comeback in 1998. On their album ‘Back for Good’ (1998) fourteen out of eighteen tracks are remakes from this first body of songs. 2 Bohlen commented after the break-up: ‘Modern Talking was dead. After all the candycoloured nightmares of parachute silk, the lipgloss and the high, higher, the highest squeaking, ultimately I  wanted to be a real man on the stage again’ (Bohlen, 2002: p. 124, transl. AD).

10 Rocking Granny’s living room? The new voices of German schlager Julio Mendívil

Introduction The German ‘schlager’ is often pejoratively depicted as conservative music ‘for grannies’. Indeed, seniors are a very important segment of the schlager consumer community. In order to counteract the aging of the schlager market, the German music industry has time and again tried to modernize schlager music, promoting novel artists who try to combine schlager with new trends from the international music market. But until recently, such trends have never been successfully introduced in a way that has significantly changed schlager music in a long-lasting way, and the innovators have typically been swiftly domesticated by the style’s conservatism. However, despite the dogged resistance of schlager to change, in recent years certain new schlager performers, including Andreas Gabalier and Helene Fischer, have apparently radically revolutionised the schlager landscape, re-orientating it towards other (diverse) musical genres such as rock, pop and musicals. In this article I try to explain how performers like Gabalier and Fischer are redefining schlager music at the beginning of the twenty-first century. In order to situate this innovation historically, I begin with a characterisation of schlager music and show its close relationship to a conservative image of the German nation strongly influenced by the idea of ‘Heimat’ (the homeland or an idyllic world).1

Sound and sentiment The German word ‘schlager’ literally means ‘hit’ (or ‘hitter’) and has come to refer to the individual songs of a certain type in Germany, and to the genre they belong to. This schlager genre is a type of popular music; it is generally quite successful in Germany, but has little artistic or social cachet. Musically, schlager is often criticised for its simplistic character, and its textual content meets with ideological concerns because of affirmative, hetero-normative lyrics. A representative example of such critiques of the genre is Mechthild Mäsker’s (1999) definition of schlager: In the current language the word “Schlager” is used to refer to the music genre that was formerly called “Schnulze” (silly love songs). A traditional

Rocking Granny’s living room? 101 Schlager is, therefore, a simple piece of music with a German text about a sentimental subject. (p. 1, transl. JM) The literature on schlager is full of dismissive definitions like this. But a counterargument can be made that, in fact, schlager is a quite eclectic musical field. For example, schlager songs are not always silly love songs, and their lyrics can refer to a variety of topics: heterosexual love, yes, but also party culture, love of ‘Heimat’, or even interactions with new technologies (cf. Mendívil, 2008: p. 154). Thus, I disagree with characterisations that too swiftly reduce schlager music to a banal cliché. Nevertheless, I do wish to rescue something of Mäsker’s definition, namely the claim that schlager songs are always sentimental. So, although I think that almost anything can be the topic of a schlager song, I do agree that this topic will always be treated in a very sentimental way. Granting this sentimentality – even allowing that schlager has a broad range of lyrical topics – it would be very easy to still consider schlager to be an unintelligent musical form, music for dummies, as many schlager researchers have done (cf. Adorno, 1992: p. 39f.; Dietrich, 2002: p. 24; Kaiser, 1972b: p. 20). But I prefer to define schlager not because of the simplicity of its lyrics or musical structure but as a discourse, which reproduces a cultural imaginary by the means of music, and I see its sentimentality as part of this discourse. Foucault has demonstrated that discourses always function through the combination of concepts and enunciative modes. In this regard, schlager’s frequent resort to certain special nouns as central concepts need not reveal uninventive repetition, but rather a very specific enunciation of elements of a discourse. Else Haupt (1957), writing before Foucault, calls these central schlager nouns ‘keywords’ and argues: A keyword should here be understood as a word which always evokes a certain imagined world when it is enunciated, even if [the world evoked] is only simulated in a superficial way simulated and not invoked in detail. The types of worlds that keyword opens can be very diverse. Some keywords are also keywords in the mundane world and society, for example, “charm” and “opportunity”. Place names, city names, country names can also be keywords. Schlager listeners react to these place names with very concrete associations. (p. 50, transl. JM) As Haupt also points out, many schlager keywords derive from the German romantic lyric tradition (Haupt, 1957: p. 57). Malamud (1964) makes a similar point and adds that it is particularly important that these words ‘do not express only a conceptual content but also . . . transmit a sentiment’ (p. 55). In transmitting conceptual and sentimental content, these keywords also build a system of affinity and exclusion, which then contributes to constructing the cultural imaginary of the schlager world. The rose, for example, symbolizes love, because it is considered beautiful as love is also considered beautiful. Schlager are not poems, however: their effect derives not only from their lyrics, but also from their music. Similarly to the language used in schlager lyrics,

102  Julio Mendívil Table 10.1  The harmonic structure of schlager music in the cultural imagination of schlager listeners Tonic or tonic parallel

Subdominant or subdominant parallel

Dominant (7)

I / vi example in c: C/a

IV / ii

V (7)

F/d

G (7)

which might be quite various but is made familiar by sentimentality, the musical form of schlager is also codified for its audience as familiar. During my fieldwork in Germany, I asked schlager consumers about the songs they consider to be typical schlager. I often obtained responses that mentioned songs such as ‘Fiesta Mexicana’, ‘Ein bisschen Frieden’ (A Bit of Peace), ‘La Paloma’ or ‘Wer Liebe lebt’ (Who Lives Love). Considering the musical patterns revealed in these responses, it is possible to detect significant eclecticism in schlager music, but it is also reasonable to assert that schlager listeners imagine the typical schlager as a song with a basic major harmony consisting of three chords: tonic – ­dominant – subdominant (Table 10.1). This imagined song form need not be true of every schlager – ­granting artists some freedom and permitting eclecticism – but it is still predominant enough for the schlager audience to imagine genre in terms of a musical form that guarantees a sense of familiarity, although the musicality diversity of the genre contradicts that (cf. Mendívil, 2008: p. 291). Familiarity is important in schlager, both lyrically and musically. Another formal aspect of schlager that makes them familiar is the language they use – not the lyrical content – but the fact that schlager are sung in German. When I asked about what they enjoy about schlager, many schlager consumers explained to me that they listen to schlager music because they are able to understand the lyrics. However, the schlager audience does not usually listen to other musical genres that have German language lyrics, such as German rock or rap. That is, simply understanding a singers’ words because they are German is not enough for the schlager audience. Indeed, sometimes it may be precisely because they do understand what rockers or rappers sing that the schlager audience does not like these forms. In other words, these genres are not linguistically or musically familiar, so familiarity does not refer to the German language but rather to the concrete form of its use. Why? I now want to ask why people sing (or listen to) schlager: why do these German people sing in this particular way?

Why do Germans sing? Popular music forms are ‘popular’, which means they construct communities among their performers and audiences. German schlager artists construct a particular German community by singing about emotions that are considered to be familiar, affirmative and crucial to a positive life. Central to these emotions are love, friendship and the love of Heimat. Although ‘Heimat’ can be translated as

Rocking Granny’s living room?  103 ‘homeland’, the particular German concept of Heimat is strongly related to a desire for familiarity and a peaceful life, which I also detect in schlager. As Boa & Palfreyman (2000) explain: Heimat is, then, a physical place, or social space, or bounded medium of some kind which provides a sense of security and belonging. As a surrounding medium, Heimat protects the self by stimulating identification whether with family, locality, nation, folk or race, native dialect tongue. [. . .] Heimat is an intrinsically conservative value connoting originary or primary factors in identity. (p. 23) The relationship to Heimat that I detect in schlager is clearly present in the genre’s lyrics, but should not be reduced to lyrical content (cf. Höfig, 2000: pp. 115–161). The musical form of German schlager (the familiar and melodic major chord structure) also enables artists and listeners construct a feeling of Heimat. This function of schlager is quite clear. Thus, for example, singer Stefanie Hertel told me, ‘Schlager music creates a little bit of Heimat, within which you can feel well and safe’ (interview 25.02.2003). Interestingly, Hertel’s phrasing suggests that Heimat is not quite real – it has to be created by the music – and, thus, Heimat appears in the discourse of schlager as the sonic expression of nostalgia for an idyllic world. The unreal aspect of schlager’s Heimat has led many schlager researchers to dismissively classify this idyllic world as an illusion produced by the music industry (cf. Port le roi, 1998: p. 50f.) or as a form of musical escapism that reinforces affirmative thinking (cf. Schmidt-Joos, 1960: p.  15). However, like Fiske (cf. 2001: p. 124), I would argue that the use of fantasy in this way is also a political act of civil disobedience, an oppositional attitude towards the real world. Take this statement from Hertel about her songs: I have a song called “So ein Stückerl heile Welt” [A Little Bit of an Idyllic World]. I do not sing in this song about how the world is wonderful, but rather, if you analyse the text exactly, I sing that “I wish for a better world”. [. . .] This is the message of the song. And this is the kind of songs that I try to record now. Not to say: “The world is wonderful”, no to say: “the world is beautiful, the world is a place of well-being”. This is not true, although there are enclaves where it is wonderful. What I sing is: “let us construct a better world’’. (interview 25.02.2003) Thus, Hertel defines the nostalgia of her songs as a desire to change the world. I claim that this attitude is political, and that singing such schlagers is an act of rebellion: the rebellion of the conservative people. That is, I analyse schlager as subversive. It is most typical in music studies to relate subversion in music studies to subaltern groups, which use subversion to respond politically to oppressive

104  Julio Mendívil determinants. But conservatives could also rebel against the liberal character of current democracy. When I use the term ‘conservative’, I refer to a certain mentality, which defends a hierarchic, religious and anti-modern world, an attitude which understands itself as restorative or ‘defenders of established and old values’, and which goes back to the anti-revolutionary German movement against the French revolution (cf. Mendívil, 2008: p. 254). This is a rebellion of the conservative people against what Anthony Giddens (1990) has called the reflexivity of radical modernity: the fact that under the modern condition, social practices are constantly examined and reformed in the light of ever renewed information about those very practices, thus constitutively altering their character (cf. p. 38). This reflexivity is a condition of uncertainty, and thus, the more German society becomes liberal and uncertain, the more schlager artists and consumers long for the old days of the Heimat and sing of an idyllic German past.

Moving away from schlager The schlager rebellion that I  have just identified began in the 1950s when rock’n’roll revolutionised the music landscape in Germany. Since then, schlager music has responded with conservatism to the assaults of Anglo-American popular music. Where Elvis moved the pelvis, schlager artists sang about romantic love; where rock’n’roll world chooses beat, schlager composers opt for ‘sweet’ (cf. Mendívil, 2008: pp.  204–216). But rock’n’roll and subsequent AngloAmerican pop music is read by its fans as cool, young and rebel, so accordingly, schlager music became uncool, adult and a signal of musical conservatism. This could explain why many people commonly believed, even by academics researching the genre, that only grannies love schlager music.2 I have asserted that the community created around schlager is conservative, and that conservative people do not like change. This does not imply that schlager music does not change. Culture is always emergent and schlager music is no exception. But the schlager imaginary is conservative, so although innovation is possible in schlager, in order to integrate innovations, the schlager community converts them into a conservative form, or by tolerating them as exceptions. Guildo Horn, for example, provoked the schlager world in the 1990s by performing somehow ironic rocking versions of schlager hits, but a few years later he sang fisherman’s songs on TV shows. The mononymous schlager singer Michelle provoked by posing nude in Playboy, but she also returned immediately to evening dress. Yet the new voices of schlager, Andreas Gabalier and Helene Fischer, seem to be revamping schlager music more thoroughly, in an enduring way, orientating it towards other music segments, in particular rock, pop and musicals. How is this possible? The Austrian singer Andreas Gabalier (Figure 10.1) has been one of the most successful musicians in the schlager business since 2011. He calls himself the ‘Volks-Rocker’ of the German-speaking world,3 although, hearing his songs, it is difficult to identify concrete rock elements. Songs like ‘I sing a Liad für di’

Rocking Granny’s living room? 105

Figure 10.1  Andreas Gabalier Source: Courtesy of Michael May

(I Sing a Song for You), ‘So liab hob i di’ (I Love You So Much) are typical schlager songs with a basic harmony circle of tonic, dominant and subdominant and sentimental lyrics in Bavarian dialect. Nevertheless, his gritty voice and his look – a punkish combination of rockabilly elements, such as his quiff, with Bavarian Lederhosen, give him the aura of a rebel, which helps attract young people to his music and thence to the schlager community. Helene Fischer is an even more dramatic figure than Gabalier. Fischer has been the queen of German schlager since 2007. Born in the former USSR, she grew up in Germany, where she attended the Stage and Musical School in Frankfurt. Although classified as a ‘Schlagersängerin’, Fischer has changed the image of the schlager singer progressively but radically (Figure 10.2). Her stage show, in which she sings, dances and even performs stunts, displaying not only great ability as a performer but also, more unusually for schlager, great sensuality. Furthermore, she performs many different personalities on the stage: the timid, innocent and ladylike woman, the party-queen, the femme fatale, the techno-dancer, the pop star, and so on. Her musical aesthetic is strongly oriented towards pop and displays innovative choices. Her songs are strongly orchestrated and are often supported by techno beats. Hits such as ‘Nur wer den Wahnsinn liebt’ (Only One Who Loves Madness) or ‘Atemlos’ (Breathless) are in a minor key, an unusual move within the schlager style where this key would normally be used to indicate a foreign figure (a Mexican, an Italian, or a Greek). Lyrically, Fischer is more conservative,

106  Julio Mendívil

Figure 10.2  Helene Fischer Credit: Sandra Ludewig

(re-)producing many of the clichés and typical keywords which schlager singers use to sing about hetero-normative love – although this is also not incompatible with her orientation towards (mainstream) pop. Significantly, where Gabalier is codified as still well within the circle of schlager, Fischer is seen as more of a boundary breaker, attracting the attention of other audiences (especially those interested in pop music and musicals), and thereby making schlager music socially acceptable for other consumers. But she remains a schlager singer because she still performs in the schlager scene and schlager TV shows and tours with her schlager colleagues. Nevertheless, the ambiguous personality of Helene Fischer permits her to attract other audiences than the schlager fans. For example, among my colleagues at the university there are fans of Fischer who argue that she can no longer be seen as a schlager singer. Is this only a strategy on their part, so that they can justify their recent interest in Helene Fischer’s music without having to admit that they like schlager? Are Gabalier and Fischer rocking Granny’s living room? Yes, they are, and this demonstrates that the schlager genre has space for innovation, and that the music of schlager is undergoing changes at the start of the twenty-first century. But, as my discussion of Heimat and schlager should show, innovation in schlager requires meeting the imaginary of conservatism. Gabalier and Fischer may be bringing the musical energies of rock, pop and musicals to schlager, but these

Rocking Granny’s living room? 107 genres themselves are quite ‘well-behaved’ forms in today’s world and so are not genres that are incompatible with the conservative German world of Heimat.

Notes 1 My own expertise about schlager music is rooted in an ethnographic study which I  carried out during the early years of the twentieth-first century in Germany. Over four years, I attended concerts and TV music shows throughout Germany, spoke with artists, consumers and producers and discussed their music with schlager fans on many Internet forums. In this period, I also worked at a music company that produces schlager music (cf. Mendívil, 2008). 2 During my visits to schlager concerts and TV shows, time and again I met many young people who loved schlager music, because it sounds familiar, harmless and uncomplicated to them. I also proved that offspring of schlager musicians are not at risk. For a deeper insight in this aspect, cf. (Mendívil, 2008). 3 Like Heimat, the German term ‘Volk’ does not always translate readily into English. Gabalier is calling himself something like the ‘People’s rocker’, but also alluding to the strong presence in his repertoire of songs that can be regarded as much as folk music as schlager (perhaps more in the way that American country music is a type of folk music, rather than the commercial genre of ‘folk music’ in the English-speaking world). Gabalier’s rocker image recurs to many elements of the 50s rockabilly singer. For this reason he could be seen as a conservative rebel.

Part IV

Niches and subcultures

11 The popularization of electronic dance music German artists/producers and the eurodance phenomenon Nico Thom Introduction: the power of eurodance Towards the end of 2014, the German comparison website ‘www.check24.de’ launched an elaborately produced television advertising campaign featuring ‘ordinary’ protagonists dancing. Ever since, German TV and various online platforms have carried advertising videos featuring self-ironic protagonists performing supposedly spontaneous choreographies. The music they dance, sing and rap to is about twenty-five years old. The featured tracks were released between 1988 and 1993 and reached top positions in the German and international charts during this period.1 The songs include the track ‘The Power’, a worldwide hit released in 1990 by the German duo of producers Snap! (Michael Münzing and Luca Anzilotti) in collaboration with the African-American rapper Turbo B (Durron Maurice Butler), and the African-American singer Penny Ford. ‘The Power’ was one of the first so-called eurodance tracks. It attained very high international sales figures (for example, going platinum in the USA) and was used in numerous films and video clips. In a feature on the German TV channel ZDF, Snap! (1994) classified their own music as ‘world music [. . .], meaning one cannot really say that it’s from Germany or from the USA [. . .], instead, it escapes definition and one can listen to it everywhere in the world’ (1:46–2:00). Despite this claim to ‘world music’, the term ‘eurodance’  – with its specific geographic connotation – was coined to describe tracks like ‘The Power’. Why is this? What are the specific stylistic traits of eurodance and what are its roots in music history? What importance did the commercial success of eurodance have for the development of electronic dance music? What was the role of German artists and producers in this context? These are the questions this essay seeks to answer.

Definitions of eurodance So far, online resources attempt only a small number of definitions for eurodance; while entries in print dictionaries or scholarly articles are not to be found. However, with the information that does exist, the classic interrogative pronoun questions can be answered as follows:

112  Nico Thom Who performs/performed eurodance music (solo artists/bands/labels)? Usually, the creators of eurodance music are small, independent teams of producers from Europe, for example Jo Bogaert and Patrick DeMeyer, known as Technotronic, from Belgium; Torsten Fenslau, Jürgen Katzmann and Jens Zimmermann, known as Culture Beat, from Germany; Valerio Semplici and Daniele Davoli and Mirko Limoni, working as Black Box, from Italy; and Dennis van den Driesschen and Wessel van Diepen, the Vengaboys, from Denmark. These producers often work with changing frontmen or groups, remaining in the background themselves. Casting calls are frequently held for the singers and rappers who front the music and who typically perform in English. These performers are often from the USA (for example, Melanie Jane Thornton, alias La Bouche, or Bernard Greene, alias B.G. The Prince of Rap) or Great Britain (e.g. Tanya Evans, alias Culture Beat, or Ian Campbell, alias Ice MC). Noticeably, many of the singing or rapping front women or men, performing in English though not always native speakers, have an obvious migration background or have dark colouring (e.g. Anita Doth and Raymond Slijngaard of 2 Unlimited). In the early 1990s, it was mostly small record labels that specialized in eurodance, especially the German label ZYX Music, but the labels Byte Records (Belgium) and Dance World Attack (Italy) also bear mention. Then, during the mid-1990s, the large major labels (Universal Music, Sony Music, Warner Music) and their various sub-labels discovered the commercial potential of eurodance music. Typical structure/musical characteristics Eurodance achieves its broad effect through clearly distinguishable and highly recognizable musical characteristics. Rhythmically, it features a 4/4 beat played at a tempo of around 120 and 150 beats per minute, with each quarter note emphasized equally by a continuous bass drum beat. On the second and fourth quarter, a snare drum is used, but dynamically sparingly, so that the pounding bass drum is dominant and the snare drum sensed rather than heard. A syncopated bass line consisting of three to five notes forms the basis for simple harmonic cadences (tonic, subdominant, dominant). In most cases, the melody, or four-measure hook line, is a vocal line. Eurodance pieces almost invariably follow a song structure of verse and chorus; most often, the verse is rapped by a male voice and the refrain sung by a female one. The instrumentation is exclusively electronic (samplers, synthesizers, drum machines) and/or computer generated. Technically, the sound is highly condensed, leading to a compact, superficial listening impression. Topics/lyrical contents Eurodance lyrics are characteristically hedonistic, revolving around topics like romantic infatuation, sexuality, music, dancing and carefree partying. Often, the lyrical message is so reduced that the putative subject can barely be made out.

Popularization of electronic dance music  113 The spectrum of content ranges from the pathetic (‘No no limits, we’ll reach for the sky/No valley too deep, no mountain too high/No no limits, won’t give up the fight/We do what we want and we do it with pride’, 2 Unlimited, 1992) to the ironic (‘I’m a Barbie girl/In a Barbie world/Life in plastic/It’s fantastic’, Aqua, 1997). Origination, dissemination and places As the term itself clearly denotes, Europe is usually seen as the place of origin of eurodance. An especially high production of eurodance tracks is found in Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Great Britain, Italy and Germany. As mentioned above, eurodance artists – especially the performers fronting tracks – often have an immigrant background. American artists (occasionally living in Europe) were also involved in the development of eurodance from the beginning. However, it must not be overlooked that some properly American productions began to appear on the market even during its early days; these American products were often dubbed with a label, e.g. dance or dancefloor music, because of their geographic origin but they clearly embraced eurodance stylistics.2 The main audiences for eurodance music are similarly European and from the USA. In addition, eurodance has achieved lasting popularity in Canada, Mexico and Australia. Emergence and popularity The beginnings of eurodance can be dated to around 1990. At this time, releases abounded which were noted for their novel combinations of hip-hop, house and techno elements. These records included the albums ‘Pump Up the Jam: The Album’ (1989) by the Belgian formation Technotronic, ‘World Power’ (1990) by the German-American formation Snap! and ‘Street Moves’ (1990) by the Dutch formation Twenty 4 Seven, all seminal eurodance recordings.3 Following this initial period, the international charts between 1993 and 1997 reveal that eurodance reached the height of its popularity by the mid-1990s. Although this peak in popularity was achieved nearly 20 years ago, eurodance continues to be a recognizable style among producers and is still popular with audiences. Commercial success Eurodance fuses two musical styles which were prominent in the late 1980s: hip-hop and electronic dance music (more specifically, techno). In the eurodance style, both are combined to produce a sound even more compatible with the charts. The basic formula can be described as ‘techno beat and sound + male rap + female singing + simple song structure (verse/refrain)  =  mass popularity’. This musical mélange was especially well received in Europe, and the term eurodance gradually established itself. The use of the term is also part of an existing tendency to use the attribute ‘European’ or ‘Euro-’ in the context of popular music among European and American music journalists,4 as well as within the

114  Nico Thom international music industry, which has always employed regionally targeted marketing.

Giving a face to electronic dance music The preceding list of questions and answers gives a reasonable overview of eurodance. More should be said on why it was successful – or how, the missing interrogative! Although, as just mentioned, the existing popularity of its predecessor styles is part of the reason for the commercial success of eurodance, its key innovation was the personalizing of electronic dance music. Prior to eurodance, electronic dance music had been largely instrumental – or impersonal – and highly self-referential. The focus was on experimentation with electronic music media, on the one hand, and on the development of an artificialfuturistic sound aesthetic on the other (cf. Thom, 2014: pp. 176–189), under an overarching concern with the dancefloor functionality of a purely instrumental form of music. The main point was not to showcase individual producers or stars, but to establish musical stylistics or derivative sub-styles. ‘Dance music cultures have, over many years, been somewhat less concerned with authorship, with performer identity, than is the case in other music cultures such as Rock’ (Hesmondhalgh, 2006: p.  246). This impersonality was transformed with the advent of eurodance. Suddenly, there were recognizable performers who could be seen and heard live and in video clips, a cadre of singers, rappers and dancers who were, literally, the faces of electronic dance music and who contributed a relatable vocal factor to the music. All this helped a broader audience take note of electronic dance music by the mid-1990s: this trend was manifested not least in the establishment of Berlin’s ‘Love Parade’ (see Meteo & Passaro in this book), which grew into the world’s largest event for electronic dance music by the end of the 1990s.

The impact of German artists/producers As the ‘Love Parade’s’ Berlin home might suggest, Germany is an important base for eurodance. This is also clear from the large number of German eurodance projects which met with chart success, gained heavy rotation on national and international radio stations and music television and were performed in clubs and at open-air festivals worldwide. These acts include 3-o-Matic, Activate, ATC (A Touch of Class), Captain Hollywood Project, Culture Beat, Dune, E-Rotic, Fun Factory, General Base, Loft, Magic Affair, Masterboy, Maxx, Mr. President, Scooter, Snap! and U 96, many of whom were released by the above-mentioned German label ZYX Music (or one of its several sub-labels), which has had a huge impact on the development of eurodance in general. With very few exceptions, the producers behind these projects cast their frontmen and performers with international singers and rappers from the get-go, so that the acts were not perceived as ‘typically German‘ (cf. Helms & Phleps, 2014b, and Schiller in this book) productions at first look or, rather, first listening. This intentional internationality

Popularization of electronic dance music 115 is documented, for example, in a TV feature on the production duo Münzing and Anzilotti (Snap!). There, we learn the following: [SPEAKER]:  One reason for this international success was certainly that Snap! was

not noticeably a German production. After all, Münzing and Anzilotti had given themselves the pseudonyms Benito Benites and John Virgo Garrett III.

[MÜNZING]:  Afro-Americans represented the music on the outside. And they were

Americans. [. . .] The difference was simply that they brought a piece of musical culture to the USA which the Americans don’t actually have (Münzing & Anzilotti, 1996: 1:49–2:18).

Conclusion It is arguable that eurodance, with its hedonistic, partying emphasis and its musical condensation, is a relatively ‘superficial’ listening experience in some regard. However, this essay suggests that the eurodance style is also a successful and popular fusion of its musical predecessors to produce a genre that is, as its name implies, characteristically European in some ways, but at the same time, as its creators and its success emphasize, also a multi-cultural world music in other ways. Eurodance music is especially popular in Germany, the home of many eurodance musicians and a large eurodance audience, but this does not make eurodance a German music in any simplistic sense.

Notes 1 Video clips of the advertising campaign:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-KUG IavnQY (Music: C+C Music Factory – ‘Gonna Make You Sweat [Everybody Dance Now]’, 1990), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_ZU3jv8Chc (Music: Salt-nPepa  – ‘Push it’, 1988), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdIm5fw4PEs (Music: Snap!  – ‘[I’ve got] The Power’, 1990), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1_ LmqPm2W0 (Music: Tag Team – ‘Whoomp! [There It Is]’, 1993). 2 Thus, the American group C+C Music Factory, for example, had an international hit in 1990, ‘Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)’. 3 In these productions, the rhythmical level is oriented more towards electronic hip-hop or hip-house of the late 1980s than towards a 4-on-the-floor techno beat. Beyond that, however, they display all the characteristics of eurodance. 4 In this context, terms such as ‘eurodisco’, ‘eurobeat’ and ‘europop’ may have somewhat different connotations depending on who uses them: perhaps expressing a more expressly a Euro-centrist perspective when used by a European journalist, or else, when used by an American journalist, simply summarizing an entire continent without distinguishing national styles. On the term ‘eurodisco’, e.g., cf. Brewster & Broughton, 2006: p.  200. On the term eurobeat, e.g., cf. Wicke, Ziegenrücker  & Ziegenrücker, 2007: p. 234f. On the term ‘europop’, e.g., cf. Jeffries, 2003: p. 222f.

12 Restless and wild Early West German heavy metal Dietmar Elflein

Introduction Kreator, Sodom, Destruction, Accept, Doro, Helloween, Blind Guardian: these are all bands that began during the early wave of heavy metal music in Germany which continue to be successful in the global metal scene and the international festival and touring circuit. Almost all of these acts started their careers in the first half of 1980s as a part of the then rapidly expanding West German heavy metal scene. Accept are the exception, being precursors of the 1980s scene, already on the go in 1971. The GDR also had a vibrant heavy metal scene that emerged in the first half of the 1980s, evolving out of a hard rock scene that had been active since the revocation of the beat band ban in the GDR in 1971.1 However, no East German heavy metal band that had already been active in the GDR gained international success or even significant nationwide prominence after German reunification. Therefore, given limitations of space, it seems sensible to focus on the West German heavy metal scene. This paper provides a brief account of this early metal scene in Germany and maps some of the heavy metal activity in West Germany during the 1980s.

History and backgrounds There was a burgeoning hard rock scene in West Germany during the 1970s. Already in 1970 Lucifer’s Friend, a studio project of Hamburg-based musicians,2 released their self-titled debut, which is usually regarded as a forerunner of heavy metal nowadays (cf. Trummer, 2015). However, the most successful band was the Scorpions (see von Appen in this book), based in Hanover, the capital of Lower Saxony. Lower Saxony, especially around Hanover, was a kind of a centre for German hard rock. Nevertheless, the first German rock band to release music influenced by the so-called new wave of British heavy metal (NWOBHM) and especially Judas Priest were Accept, who came from Solingen in North Rhine Westphalia. In 1981 and 1982 Accept released the albums ‘Breaker’ and ‘Restless and Wild’ to significant acclaim while their fifth album, ‘Balls to the Wall’ (1983), achieved gold-record status in both the USA and Canada. With Accept at its centre, the locus of hard rock in German shifted from Lower Saxony to

Restless and wild 117 the growing heavy metal scene in North Rhine Westphalia, and the Ruhr Valley became established as the German equivalent to the Black country in the UK in heavy metal history.

Media Although Accept’s history extended back to the beginnings of the 1970s, the heavy metal scene in Germany was only in its nascent stages in the early 1980s. The other bands mentioned at the start of this paper had only just started out – working on their first demos – if they had yet been founded at all. Nor was there much of a scene infrastructure in terms of clubs, labels, fanzines or magazines devoted to heavy metal – let alone the genre having any presence on radio or TV shows. The absence of heavy metal from the airwaves was partly because, until 1984, public broadcasters producing certain conservatism so that broadcasts of heavy metal were an exception operated all West German radio and television. One particular exception that proved this rule was the TV broadcast of an indoor festival show from Essen (in the Ruhr area) in 1983. The show was called ‘Rock Pop in Concert’ and featured the Scorpions, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne amongst others. Many fans and journalists label this particular event the starting point of the West German heavy metal scene (cf. Stratmann, 2005: p. 19). In fact, the concert – and its audience – proved that there was already a large heavy metal fanbase around West Germany. In 1982 the Dutch magazine Aardshock, a fanzine devoted entirely to heavy metal, was the first heavy metal magazine to be sold in West Germany – in areas close to the Dutch border. A short-lived German version of the magazine followed, and soon the first nationwide heavy metal fan clubs were founded in Germany, with the first German heavy metal fanzines also appearing. The majority of this activity happened to occur in the Ruhr valley and so the infrastructure needed to establish a scene began to develop, albeit slowly, around the Ruhr, including a media presence. Many early fans, including musicians, participated in an international tapetrading scene as well as published ads and contact information in fanzines and on record sleeves to contact other fans and musicians on a worldwide level.3 Despite this comparatively high level of activity, even in the Ruhr valley a German metal fan in the mid-80s could easily feel himself or herself the only metal fan around. The musicians often felt similarly isolated: Rage, a power metal band from the city of Herne in the middle of the Ruhr area, have stated in interviews that during their formative years, between 1984 and 1986, they thought they were the only heavy metal band around (cf. Schmenk & Krumm, 2011: p. 107). It is important to observe in this regard that only two of the seven bands mentioned at the start actually come from the immediate Ruhr area, namely, Kreator and Sodom; Accept, Doro and Blind Guardian are from North Rhine Westphalia but not from the Ruhr valley; Helloween were founded in Hamburg, while Destruction are from Weil am Rhein in the very South West corner of Germany. In short, heavy metal music was quite widely but sparsely spread throughout West Germany, with a somewhat more developed scene in North Rhine Westphalia, especially in the Ruhr valley.

118  Dietmar Elflein

Empirical data I will now present a more detailed picture of this growing heavy metal scene. Since the 1980s, heavy metal has flourished in West Germany and the reunified Germany to the extent that the website www.metal-archives.com lists a total of 9,255 heavy metal bands that had been or continued to be active in Germany up to November 2014. A more useful starting point for a consideration of the early scene is a 1998 book called ‘Heavy Metal – Made in Germany’ edited by journalist and metal enthusiasts Matthias Mader and Otger Jeske (1998). This lists 110 bands founded in West Germany before reunification. Mader announced a second volume, but this, unfortunately, never saw the light of day; however, the final pages of volume one include a list of 179 additional bands that would have been the subject matter of volume two (Mader & Jeske, 1998: p. 219f.). Thus, Mader and Jeske provide an index of 289 bands, to which 23 more may be added. These are bands that released at least one track on one of the early compilation records of German heavy metal also listed by Mader and Jeske (1998: pp. 211–218) but which are not independently indexed in his book. Thus, using Mader and Jeske as a basis provides a list of 312 bands, although they give us detailed information about only 110 of these (those covered in volume one). I have confirmed the existence of the other 202 bands and gathered additional information about them by crosschecking at the metal-archives website and at the discogs.com website. Of these 312 bands, the foundation year can be identified for 245. Only 26 were founded before 1980. The period between 1983 and 1986 saw about half of the 245 bands being formed. The busiest individual years were 1983 and 1986, with 38 bands founded in 1983, and 35 bands in 1986. Turning to debut releases,4 there are 246 identifiable debuts. The peak year is 1984, with 41 debut releases. The previous year, 1983, saw only 7 debuts, but in subsequent years, from 1985 to 1989, around 25 to 32 bands released debuts each year. Compilation albums are another useful way to track the activity of the metal scene. In 1983, only one compilation was released, but four were released in 1984, and again in 1985, with two in each year from 1986 to 1988. Pulling all this information together, the initial impetus in the German heavy metal scene began in the early 1980s in terms of bands being formed. By 1984, these bands had begun to release records and through the mid-1980s the scene is continuously growing, with more bands being formed and more records being released.

Record labels Examining Mader and Jeske’s list for information on record labels reveals ninetythree different record companies releasing debuts. Just under two thirds of these (sixty-one) are listed in connection with only one debut release. Thirty-six of the debuts in the sample are explicitly listed as self-releases, so it seems not unreasonable to assume that some of these one-shot record companies are also selfrelease vehicles. At the top of the labels with more than one debut release is Noise

Restless and wild 119 Records from Berlin with nineteen debut releases. Gama Music Publishing from Baden Württemberg is next, with eighteen debut releases, but Gama consists of at least seven sub-labels. In third place come Steamhammer/SPV from Hanover and the Belgian label Mausoleum Records, both of which have eleven debut releases. Mausoleum Records are part of a group of labels associated with German entrepreneur Axel Thubeauville,5 who is located in the Ruhr valley and owns three other listed labels – Aaarrg Records, Bonebreaker, and Earthshaker Records – with a total of fourteen debut releases between them, meaning Thubeauville is responsible for a total of twenty-five debut releases. There is a fifth label, Atom H, which, according to discogs and metal-archives, is owned by the same parent company as Aaarrg Records, Major Records International, but no further data were available to confirm that Major Records International is part of Thubeauville’s portfolio, while Thubeauville stated in an interview that the name of his parent company is Crazy Life Music. Despite some fuzzy details, Thubeauville is clearly a central player in the beginning of the heavy metal record business in West Germany. He is joined by four other entrepreneurs: Karl Walterbach of Noise Records, who started out by releasing German and international punk and hardcore records, Axel Schütz of Steamhammer/SPV, and Günther Marek and Peter Garattoni of Gama Music Publishing. Thubeauville and Schütz started as record shop owners, and Walterbach was a concert booker and promoter for underground clubs in Berlin. Marek and Garattoni, the founders of Gama, owned a recording studio, and Garattoni was also the drummer of the fairly well-known southern German blues/hard rock band Eulenspygel. Alongside fanzines and fan clubs, therefore, record shops, music studios and clubs are all elements of the organizational core of the emerging West German heavy metal scene.

States and cities I have already said that the early West German metal scene was centred in North Rhine Westphalia, especially the Ruhr valley, although the earlier hard rock scene was mostly focused on Hanover. These record labels give a more geographically detailed picture of the scene. Thubeauville’s labels are based in the Ruhr area, but Noise was based in West Berlin and Steamhammer in Hanover, Lower Saxony. These three locations set the German metal scene in the North of Germany, but Gama Music Publishing is from the Southwest, in Baden-Württemberg. However, according to Mader and Jeske (cf. 1998: p.  126, 200f.)  – a view confirmed by Lower Saxony–based author and former heavy metal musician Frank Schäfer6 – Gama Music Publishing and its related bands had low cultural capital on the metal scene because Gama was seen as a kind of general store that happened to release heavy metal records, but not according to any particular program, and was therefore not really an organizational force on the scene. Notably, none of the Gama bands that I looked at gained greater success. By contrast, the seven signal bands that led off this essay released their debuts on Noise (Kreator, 1985), Steamhammer/SPV (Sodom,7 1985, and Destruction, 1984), Mausoleum (Warlock, the

120  Dietmar Elflein name of an early line-up of Doro, 1984), Brain8 (Accept, 1979) and No Remorse Records9 (Blind Guardian, 1988). Looking at where the bands themselves come from, the majority (103) are from North Rhine Westphalia, with 43 of these being from the Ruhr area. Table 12.1 lists the place of origin of all the bands in the Mader and Jeske sample. As Table 12.1 shows, North Rhine Westphalia is clearly the centre of the heavy metal scene in 1980s West Germany, but heavy metal bands are active nationwide, with significant additional centres in the South of Germany, especially BadenWürttemberg, the home of Gama Music Publishing, and in Lower Saxony, the home of Steamhammer/SPV. The heavy metal scene also seems to have fairly equal appeal in both urban and rural Germany. Of the 266 bands whose place of origin is identifiable, 111 (42 per cent) come from the fifteen biggest (as of 1980) cities of Germany (see Table 12.2). The most activity is in Hamburg (Germany’s second biggest city), with 15 bands, followed by Hanover (the twelfth biggest city), with 13 bands and Frankfurt (sixth city), with 11 bands. This means that 155 bands come from smaller towns or rural areas. Although I have to this point simply used the term ‘heavy metal’ as a general category, there are many different styles within the metal genre. Even the seven bands I began with represent a large stylistic range. But the stylistic categories used both by Mader & Jeske (1998) and the metal-archives website are rather broad and imprecise. The style of 269 bands is specified, but the majority of these, 103, are simply labelled as ‘heavy metal’ – 42 bands are categorized as thrash, and 11 as speed metal; 15 bands are characterized as melodic speed, and 31 as power metal bands. Interestingly, although the greatest number of bands are simply categorized as heavy metal, when it comes to bands that are still active, thrash metal seems to be the dominant genre. From the 312 bands, 29 have been continuously active (see Table 12.3), while another 40 bands have reformed and become active again after a hiatus. Among these 69 bands, 35 (50 per cent) are characterized as thrash metal, while only 4 bands characterized simply as heavy metal are still active, and 13 Table 12.1  German states and the formation of heavy metal bands State

No. of Bands

North Rhine Westphalia Baden-Wuerttemberg Lower Saxony Bavaria Hessen Hamburg Rhineland-Palatinate West Berlin Bremen Schleswig-Holstein Saarland Unknown origin

103 42 31 27 22 15 9 8 7 2 0 46

Table 12.2  Bands that come from big cities No.

City

No. of Bands

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

West Berlin Hamburg Munich Cologne Essen Frankfurt/M. Dortmund Düsseldorf Stuttgart Duisburg Bremen Hanover Nuremberg Bochum Wuppertal

8 15 4 8 6 11 9 8 7 2 7 13 6 1 6

Table 12.3  Bands continuously active (to 2014) Band

City

State

Formation

Genre

Running Wild Grave Digger Not Fragile Sodom Agent Orange Kreator Tankard Vengeance Destruction Helloween Minotaur Necronomicon Tempest Attack Axxis High ‘n Dry Reaper Torment Mekong Delta Blind Guardian Bonfire Dimple Minds Heavenward Rage Pink Cream 69 U.D.O. Exterior Gamma Ray Scanner

Hamburg Gladbeck Hamburg Gelsenkrichen Bisingen Essen Frankfurt Leinfeld Weil Hamburg Halstenbek Lörrach Schweimke Nordhorn Dortmund Dormagen Kassel Hamburg Velbert Krefeld Ingolstadt Bremen Krefeld Herne Karlsruhe Solngen Rottweil Hamburg Gelsenkrichen

HH NRW HH NRW BW NRW H BW BW HH SH BW NS NS NRW NRW H HH NRW NRW BY HB NRW NRW BW NRW BW HH NRW

1976 1980 1980 1981 1982 1982 1982 1982 1983 1983 1983 1983 1983 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1985 1986 1986 1986 1986 1986 1987 1987 1988 1988 1988

Heavy metal Heavy metal Melodic metal Thrash metal Heavy metal Thrash metal Thrash metal Hard rock Thrash metal Melodic speed metal Thrash metal Thrash metal Progressive metal Melodic speed metal Melodic metal Hard rock Heavy metal Thrash metal Progressive metal Power metal Hard rock Punk, fun metal Power metal Power metal Melodic metal Power metal Thrash metal Melodic speed metal Melodic speed metal

122  Dietmar Elflein more of these heavy metal bands are active again. Only a subset of any of these bands gained wider national or international success. There are also a significant number of non-successful or only regionally successful bands that have been continuously active or have become active again.

Conclusion It is probably true to say that German heavy metal is most often associated either with thrash bands like Kreator, Sodom and Destruction that have been influential on the international extreme metal scene, or with melodic speed metal bands like Accept or Helloween, who are often referred to internationally as teutonic power bands. However, as even the cursory analysis here suggests, these bands represent part of a much greater stylistic variety that has been present since the very beginnings of the German heavy metal scene. This essay has provided an initial map of the early (West) German heavy metal scene. One of the findings is that the German heavy metal scene is quite widespread throughout the country and encompasses bands operating on different levels, from underground, through local, to international success. Further research is needed to document the history of the scene in more detail and, in particular, to analyze the modes of appropriation in German heavy metal in order to gain a better understanding how regional popular music scenes in Germany work and how they survive or flourish under the radar of international success and widespread media coverage. Given the initial influence of British heavy metal on German hard rock, another important topic would be the specific appropriation of AngloSaxon musical styles by German musicians and their further development into regionally defined styles like teutonic metal.

Notes 1 See Breitenborn, 2010; Reibetanz, 2009; Rosenberg, 2008, the website http://www. ostmetall.de and the CD ‘Geil auf Heavy Metal’ for further information on heavy metal in the GDR. 2 The majority of the band’s members earned their living playing and singing easy listening, swing or pop in the James Last Orchestra and the Les Humphries Singers, a pop choir in the wake of the success of the musical Hair. 3 See Stratmann, 2005 and Schmenk and Krumm, 2010 for additional information on the development of the heavy metal scene in the Ruhr area. 4 A debut release is either an album, an EP, a single or a split release. Demos are not treated as debuts, since no heavy metal centred infrastructure is needed to record a demo. Also, tracks on compilations are not counted as debut releases. 5 Thubeauville and his partner Ralf Hubert, a member of the progressive metal band Mekong Delta, worked as a production team for Mausoleum Records. 6 Personal conversation with the author. 7 Sodom’s debut was the only release of Devil’s Game/SPV and re-released by Steamhammer in the same year. 8 Brain is a division of Metronome Records and a pioneer label in electronic music and Krautrock label. 9 No Remorse Records is based in the Ruhr area. Five more releases by No Remorse are part of the sample.

13 No escape from noise ‘Geräuschmusik’ made in Germany Till Kniola

Introduction and history Where does noise come from? Noise is everywhere, of course, but the liberation of noise is a story peculiar to twentieth-century music. The story begins, perhaps, with the Italian futurist Luigi Russolo who, in 1913, called for a new music of noises in the manifesto ‘The Art of Noises’. He defined a classification of the noises produced by his self-built instruments, the intonorumori (cf. Russolo, 2000). More noise arrived with the development of (radio) studio technology from the 1950s onwards, as the artists of the musique concrète movement incorporated everyday noises into their musical narratives, the technology enabling an aesthetic in which extra musical sounds were to be treated as musical material and moulded into compositions (cf. Ruschkowski, 1998: p. 207ff.). Music made of noises made its first grand appearance only later in popular culture. The artists of the Industrial scene first introduced the new noise aesthetic here. The early experiments of groups like Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire and SPK (to name but a few) led to the liberalization of sound and positioned seemingly dysfunctional noises as important elements at the heart of popular music. This new movement started to emerge internationally in the second half of the 1970s and was later termed ‘industrial music’ (cf. Hegarty, 2007). It was a crystallizing moment in music. Through its liberalization of musical means and its promotion of ‘access to information’, as well as artistic and philosophical ideas, and through the use of shock tactics, industrial music created a singularity point that abolished predominant values and musical norms and allowed something entirely new to emerge (Savage, 1983: p. 5). The groups of the industrial scene issued forth under a bold and often violent aesthetic and employing crude strategies of destruction (cf. Kleinhenz, 1995: p. 94). Throbbing Gristle – once dubbed the ‘wreckers of civilization’ (cf. Ford, 1999: pp. 6–22) – and their contemporaries sought to create something new by demolishing the old and the given: be it musical harmonies, concrete buildings or semantic chains. This was achieved by applying tactics of disassociation, utilizing the literary method of cut-ups and releasing their product (mostly tapes and vinyl) by themselves, independently of any more traditional record company.

124  Till Kniola The bands just mentioned were all British.1 But in Germany the noise was also growing louder. Berlin gave birth to a community of artists, organizers, festivals and labels, including the ‘Berlin Atonal Festival’ and the Eisengrau shop and tape label. Important artists from these early days were Die Tödliche Doris, Frieder Butzmann and, of course, Einstürzende Neubauten (cf. Müller, 1996). The latter prided themselves on being dilettantes, not real musicians at all. Yet they managed to create a very distinctive and unique sound. A trademark for Einstürzende Neubauten was the use of self-built percussion instruments, often constructed out of ‘junkyard metal’ and garbage components. The strong rhythm section was combined with bass sounds, distorted guitar layers and electronics. At the core of the Neubauten sound was the extended vocal practice of singer Blixa Bargeld, who delivered groans, mutters and screams. The combination of these elements often resulted in a dense, archaic sound that was very harsh at face value. But at the same time, Einstürzende Neubauten also relied on song structures and, from the very beginning, operated with a strong understanding of the mechanisms of drama and arrangement. They always performed with a sense of urgency and intensity and frequently made comments on the political agenda of the day, albeit from a very internalized and individualistic standpoint. No wonder then, that the group later also got involved in composing and performing music for stage plays and radio works. A piece like ‘13 Loecher’ (13 Holes) (from 1980) reads like a manual for forming ‘music’ out of disparate elements and creating something new. According to Bargeld, his musical interest was partly fuelled by using his tape recorder as a child to record and mess around with sounds from radio and TV and by being exposed to a broadcast of a Fluxus event on German national radio. ‘Probably at the age of ten or eleven I started recording sounds from the radio and the TV with my little tape machine. The classic way, I was holding the microphone in front of the speakers, this resulted in really raw material, which I then fooled around with. A real revelation was the broadcast of a Fluxus event on SFB radio with action by Nam June Paik, Cage and all the others. I remember this felt very strange and exciting for me at the time, which would have been around 1970’ (quoted from an interview with the author, March, 2011; trans. TK). What happened after is well documented, as Einstürzende Neubauten grew into one of the most famous cultural artefacts of post-war Germany (cf. Bargeld, 1988; Maeck, 1996). The importance of the industrial music movement for the next wave of artists in the field of experimental music was manifold: Industrial music liberated noise by incorporating non-musical elements into performances, concerts and record releases; it manipulated, cracked or hacked techniques and technologies; and it established self-entrepreneurship as a viable modus operandi. The bleakness of the subject matter of much industrial music also struck a chord with listeners, but so too did the direct rapport that industrial musicians built up with colleagues and audiences through newsletters, networks and mail-art exchanges. But for all these achievements, the real value of the industrial movement lies in something else. This is the realization that, as much as the prominent artists of the first wave tried to position themselves beyond conventions and outside society, they ultimately acted out the predominant value of modern ideology, namely individualism (cf.

No escape from noise 125 Dumont, 1991: p. 36). Once the first shock wave was over and the clouds thrown up around its impact dissipated, this realization opened up new ways for the next generation of musicians, of sound makers. The first industrial artists fought at the front, broke the barriers, asked the big questions, and struggled with ideologies and power (cf. Kopf, 1987: p. 13). This story has only been alluded to here. It can, and ought to be, set in the context of German society at this time, a conservative country recovering from horrors it itself had created during the Third Reich, but now symbolic of Western freedom at the hub of the Cold War. Individualism was the modern ideology, and the ideology of the West, but it had to be performed only in certain ways in Germany. By taking their individual ‘freedom’ to the extreme, the first industrial artists liberated themselves and their art from expectations. Then, the crucial point: the next generation was able to truly focus on the liberated musical forms and to act as magicians of self-appropriation. In Germany, this next generation includes groups and artists such as P16.D4, Cranioclast, Kallabris, Doc Wör Mirran, Hirsche Nicht Aufs Sofa, Marc Behrens, Column One, Der Plan, Strafe Für Rebellion and many more. All of these were mostly non-musicians and operating on the international artist-based cassette network that had begun to grow when the original industrial musicians insisted on self-recording and self-publishing. The later network evolved gradually as many of the artists started out on their own, isolated and with no context for their work, only slowly seeking to exchange ideas and works with like-minded activists. In interviews, sound artists from the cassette underground reflecting on their own beginnings often say they had the feeling of operating in aesthetic isolation. Many expressed their surprise at then finding out that in other cities other artists were working in a similar manner (cf. Sahler, 2011). One such example is Hamburg-born sound explorer Asmus Tietchens, by now one of the established veterans of electronic music in Germany. These days, his work is presented at festivals and in recent years he has twice received the renowned Karl Sczuka Prize for acoustic art awarded by SWR public radio. However, such honours are only very recent recognitions of a long career. Tietchens started out in a vacuum, determined to formulate his own voice, his own style. Only slowly did it dawn on him that there was an international scene of noisemakers, of artists working with non-musical sources to create a bruitistic and often very dynamic sound world. But now, just as Einstürzende Neubauten represent one phase of the industrial revolution, Tietchens can stand as a metonym for more contemporary ‘geräuschmusik’ and what has become of noise in music now that it is liberated. Tietchens’s music has passed through several developments and phases, from concrete bruitism and industrial rhythms to discreet sound studies, abstract layerings and compositions made solely out of sine tones and white noise. But as a whole, the works of Asmus Tietchens are manifestations of the core ingredients of ‘geräuschmusik’: a sensibility for concrete sounds and their arrangement (‘Formen letzter Hausmusik’, 1984) (Forms of Last Family Music); rhythmic complexity (‘Geboren, um zu dienen’, 1986) (Born to Serve); the creation of abstract sound worlds through manipulation or recycling of source material

126  Till Kniola (‘Daseinsverfehlung’, 1993; ‘Dämmerattacke’, 1997) (Existence Breach, Attack of Dawning); collaboration with other sound artists through exchange of materials (‘Acht Stücke’, 2007); the construction of ‘glitchy’ atmospheres with layerings and pulses (‘Flächen mit Figuren’, 2009); and the use of humour and references to other artists or art movements (‘Humoresken und Vektoren’, 2014). Tietchens’ artistic curiosity is led by a belief in the value of the everyday noises that are all around us (cf. Kniola, 1996: p. 19). Tietchens constructs whole sound worlds out of a dripping water tap or by manipulating a reel-to-reel tape machine. Then he moulds the results into thematic, coherent albums that are each explorations of a characteristic sound. To date, Tietchens has released more than 60 albums of his music on labels worldwide and continues to play concerts internationally (cf. Jürgens, 2006). As a curious amateur with no formal musical training, he was enabled to pursue his career as a sound explorer by the foundations built by the first wave of industrial music artists. His official biography avows this fact (cf. www.tietchens.de). But the particular strength of Asmus Tietchens’ music lies in the almost scientific urge to rework and remodel his basic material. This is the central element of the new aesthetics of ‘geräuschmusik’: the focus on the manipulation of the musical material to create a special sound. This sound became the primary value of this new form of expression – the created sound had to be strange, bizarre, of a hitherto unheard shape and form, abstract and many other things. But the sound itself was the message; it did not represent the destruction of values or the negation of society as such. Once the early, eruptive years of Einstürzende Neubauten and their contemporaries receded into the past, exponents of the new ‘geräuschmusik’ like Asmus Tietchens no longer had to be afraid of noise. The openness of ‘geräuschmusik’ to treating basically any given sound as musical material led to the formation of an emancipated scene of sound artists (not only in Germany). Like Tietchens, these artists have formed their own aesthetics, combined sound manipulation with extra-musical themes and have often expanded the meaning of sound by creating the beautiful little objects that are their handmade packaging and design for their tapes and vinyl records (cf. Büsser, 1996: p. 14). In Italy, at the start of the twentieth century, the artists and writers called for an embrace of the future, of its chaos and energy. Luigi Russolo’s futurism was one of noise and freedom. But before this type of freedom could appear, the twentieth century had to pass through many traumas (some not unprovoked by the futurists themselves; e.g. cf. Bowler, 1991). By the 1970s and 1980s, musicians were striving to liberate themselves and their art from convention and expectation, even expectations of freedom (individualism, rock’n’roll). This striving was international, but also always local and individual. In Germany, a generation of artists that can be represented by Einstürzende Neubauten broke through, and changed the meaning of musicianship and of music, by introducing noise, literally and metaphorically. But these artists were still trapped by their own revolution. Only in subsequent generations do the artists become free to embrace the real potential of noise in music, and the artistic practice that goes with this. In Asmus Tietchens and similar (non-)musicians, a new type of artist has appeared. Ultimately, these artists are still the products of post-war, post-RAF German society. But they and

No escape from noise 127 their ‘geräuschmusik’ are also something new, sceptical of the future, reassured in their alternative stance, disconnected from the past, curiously stumbling forward into an uncertain future, onto vague terrain.

Note 1 SPK were Australian, but largely based in Britain.

14 German gothic From ‘Neue Deutsche Todeskunst’ to neo-Victorian steampunk Birgit Richard

In the contemporary goth scene in Germany, there is a wide range of characters, tropes, and formations of what could be described as melancholy sadness, pathetic softness, and evilness. One could argue that the goth scene in general and the one in Germany in particular has not only embraced hetero-normativity but unfortunately also an aesthetics of misogyny. This often thinly disguised sexist attitude in the scene is manifested in, for instance, the clichéd images of women ‘nailed to crosses in sexy lingerie’. Whereas constructions of gender and representations of gender roles have already received considerable critical attention, other important dimensions of the goth scene in Germany and other German-speaking countries, namely music and related issues, for example distinct styles closely related to musical genres, need to be examined, to a greater extent than it already has been, by musicologists. Partly due to the emergence of streaming services such as Last.fm and SoundCloud, the number of musical genres and styles seems to have increased dramatically in recent years: in addition to well-known terms such as gothic, dark wave, industrial, ebm, there are now many designations that have been used to describe more obscure directions and styles. A cursory survey yields designations such as ‘Neue Deutsche Härte’ (NDH, which could be translated as either new German hardness, harshness, or violence), gothic rock, death rock, gothic metal, or old-school gothic rock. In addition, there are coldwave, postpunk, deathrock, batcave, horror punk (a mashup of punk and psychobilly), steampunk = dark cabaret, dark ambient, gothic doom, medieval, neofolk, and gothic (symphonic) metal. As this long list of distinct directions indicates, the very heterogeneous goth scene in Germany encompasses very different kinds of music and styles, from future sounds in electronic dance-oriented styles to traditional folk and from historical re-enactments of the middle ages to steampunk’s retro-futurism.

History of a melancholic condition The subculture of the goths emerged in Britain in the early 1980s and basically appropriated the gloomy, resigned side of punk and new wave, in a field of music referred to as ‘dark wave’ or doom. Already at its very beginnings, goth subculture comprised many different directions and a wide range of styles. The historical

German gothic 129 and etymological roots of the term ‘goth’ are in the eighteenth-century gothic literature of the English romantics (Richard, 1995). In Germany, goths like to call themselves ‘die schwarzen’ (the black or dark ones) or ‘grufties’, a designation used in the 1980s that is derived from the German word ‘gruft’ (tomb or vault, Richard, 1995). With the possible exception of the ‘Wave-Gotik-Treffen’, a large festival that has been organized in Leipzig since 1991, the public sphere, as a potential venue for displaying different goth styles, is not as important in the German context as the Internet. On the Internet, it is possible for goths to remain anonymous and physically remote and, at the same time, to be part of a community that shares information on concerts, music, clubs, boutiques, films, comics, books, poems, or games. In this sense, the Internet is, in several respects, a perfect fit for ‘the black scene’. In the 1980s, it stood for a distinct perspective on life and human identity: loneliness, isolation, the lack of affection, failure of communication, and unrequited love. For the German goth scene today, the Internet can function as a network of the lonely, a network that allows goths to meet kindred spirits in venues such as ‘black discos’, where isolation is being performed on the dance floor. As indicated above, the Internet is the main venue for goths to explore values or styles. This is especially true for important internal taboos, for example with regard to the ‘gool’, that is, a gravedigger, a person digging up mortal remains at cemeteries in order to use these to decorate his or her home. For goths, this practice represents a proximity to death that is unacceptable because this kind of direct intrusion into the sphere of the dead is characterized by a lack of proper respect. Another internal taboo is suicide. While suicide continues to fascinate goths, they do not accept it as a solution to their existential problems, but as an admission of failure, which is likely to be the result of their intensely emotional experience of loss, death, or sadness. Another important issue for goths is, either in interactions on the Internet or in other venues, religion. Supported by the process of a ‘religious bricolage’ (Helsper, 1992), they explore Christianity or other religions and occult traditions. By appropriating the symbols of groups that have been rejected by other parts of society, goths express their dissatisfaction with, among other things, organized religion and what they perceive to be, not unlike their Romantic predecessors, an entirely rationalistic modern civilization.

The visual program for the music: danses macabres Very different from any trend in mainstream fashion but not unlike the written and unwritten rules for outward appearances in other subcultures, the complex dress code for goths in Germany includes a wide range of types. Some of these types are reminiscent of figures from centuries past, and at events such as the ‘Wave-Gotik-Treffen’ (Figures 14.1 and 14.2), one can see goths dressed as vampires, monks, witches, and mad scientists. Steampunk is another important influence in terms of style. In general, the outward appearance or, more specifically, the clothing worn by goths has a very different function than, for instance, that of punks, which is supposed to

130  Birgit Richard offend bourgeois sensibilities. To be sure, the very different yet somewhat standardized styles that can be found in the German goth scene are likely to be shocking to outsiders, but this kind of effect is unintentional. Goths convey their difference from mainstream society by embracing the colour black, especially when it comes to outward appearances. At a time when punk had made it possible to wear clothes in all sorts of colours, for example neon colours, the shift to black, which is commonly associated with old age, death, loss, or mourning, in the late 1970s also signified the refusal of goths to seek a carefree life characterized by superficiality and consumption. To goths, the colour black signifies the

Figure 14.1  Wave-Gotik meeting Leipzig, 2013a Credit: Birgit Richard

German gothic  131

Figure 14.2  Wave-Gotik meeting Leipzig, 2013b Credit: Birgit Richard

inevitability of death. The colour black is a key element of everyday life, and so are other memento mori. In this respect, commonly used motifs and symbols are appropriated from three closely related areas: death and physical mortality, Christianity and other religions and the realm of the supernatural or magic. Since goths are fascinated by death, it is not surprising that the iconography of the goth scene includes skulls, skeletons, and bones. Accessories worn by goths include crucifixes, Stars of David, the ankhs (the Egyptian symbol for the key of life), and pentagrams. The most provocative symbol used in the goth scene is the inverted Latin cross or Cross of St. Peter, which, in the scene, can, but does not necessarily have to, function as a reference to Satanism. It can also serve as a marker of difference from Christianity or organized religion, and its use may be regarded by some people as a provocation. Goths in Germany seem to be drawn to locations characterized by silence, isolation, gloominess, and death. Cemeteries, as places usually far removed from most people’s ordinary lives, are of particular interest to goths, in part because these places seem to have retained an aura of the forbidden and mysterious. The goth scene is a retrospective youth culture characterized by extreme and direct ways of dealing with death that can be unsettling for the rest of society. Goths construct niches in various media where archaic and atavistic symbols and images are being circulated. For example, many websites on the Internet reflect the desire of goths for an ever-present encyclopaedia or a genealogy of images,

132  Birgit Richard music, and styles. In this sense, these websites are archives and exchanges, but they also facilitate communication in the scene. Through the symbolic articulation of death, dying, and mourning, the scene considers itself to be a subcultural elite, the only one working against the social suppression of death, which leads to speechlessness. The goth scene is one of the most conspicuous subcultures, because goths work against the suppression of death and ageing with their deathly pale faces at a time when sun-studio tanned complexions are the epitome of health. They become a counterpart for a productive consuming culture, which marginalizes the process of dying and bodily decay and valorizes perpetual youth and the healthy able body. Drawing on a variety of traditions and different cultural contexts and engaging with different media, goths have developed their distinct set of practices and rituals that aim to allow them to come to terms with death. By restoring death to what they regard as its rightful place in human life, goths challenge the gradual erasure of death in contemporary society, a rational society that now only allows for consideration of death at certain times and places. Thus, the goth scene is not a subculture characterized by escapism, but one that assumes that it is the responsibility of the modern individual to deal with mortality, to find rituals that allow for a consideration of the inevitability of death.

The audio-visual aesthetics of ‘die schwarzen’ As in the case of many subcultures, music is a key dimension of the goth scene, but in contrast to, for example, the punk scene, a wide range of genres of independent music characterizes it. There is an emphasis on sad or dark lyrics or musical structures, which correspond to what could be described as a pervasive sense of melancholia or sadness in the goth scene. Sound collages of ordinary noises, references to religious contexts (gregorian chants or instruments like church organs), harpsichord sounds, or self-made instruments made of bones are combined with punk or electronic body music (ebm). The Internet has allowed goths to share music and pictures of iconic first-wave bands such as The Sisters of Mercy, The Cure, Alien Sex Fiend, Anne Clarke, Skinny Puppy, Fields of Nephilim, Christian Death, and Current 93. One might argue that lyrics dealing with unrequited love, death, or spirituality allow goths to deal with depression. Bands such as Joy Division were attributed as ‘authentic’ because of the cross-reference of the mental disposition of vocalist Ian Curtis, who committed suicide, and their lyrics and music. One common ground is the dark-romantic connotation: melodies are often written in minor or develop from the keys or modi of church music. Influenced by new wave and post-punk from the late 1970s, the first wave of bands now associated with the goth scene paved the way for a new movement concerned with issues such as introversion, social and religious criticism, disillusion, a longing for/coping with death, philosophical topics, nature mysticism, and romance. At the end of the 1970s and beginning of the 1980s, there was a split in the music scene. Punk influenced some bands, whereas others increasingly used elements of

German gothic  133 electronic pop. On the one hand, bands such as Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Killing Joke, The Cure, and The Sisters of Mercy were soon referred to as post-punk, which, in turn, turned into gothic rock or, for example, death rock in California. On the other hand, there were new wave bands such as Ultravox, The Human League, Anne Clark, and OMD, which represented different directions in electronic pop, for example dark wave, new romantics, electro wave, EDM, industrial, synth pop. There were also other bands that were closer to the mainstream, for instance Depeche Mode. The split in the 1980s is important because the two distinct directions can still be discerned today in new trends or revivals. For example, batcave can be seen as a continuation of post-punk or even classic punk, whereas dark minimal electro or ethereal is indebted to new wave. Prominent dark wave bands in Germany in the 1990s were Deine Lakaien, Diary of Dreams, and Project Pitchfork. In this decade, a number of German artists, for example Das Ich, Goethes Erben, and Lacrimosa, developed a more theatrical style called ‘Neue Deutsche Todeskunst’ (new German art of death). This style in particular has been perceived to be a distinct and typically German phenomenon, and it has become very influential. In other directions, such as the esoteric and mostly instrumental neo-folk and apocalyptic folk, angelic ethereal female voices dominated; neoclassic dark wave and martial industrial emerged, too. Characteristic features for the German goth bands are their pathos, artistic visuals, German lyrics sung with a sharp intonation, and very simple musical structures created with synthesizers, which were and still are an affordable means to make music and easy to learn. At the end of the 1980s, Das Ich, with their emblematic song ‘Gottes Tod’, introduced a stern seriousness that included clownish performance and white face paint. Today, there are also bands such as Silke Bischoff, named after a hostage killed during a bank robbery in Germany in the late 1980s. Using such controversial names for bands has been but one of the strategies in the scene and used by the industry, especially since the late 1980s/early 1990s. Goth music in Germany has been appropriated by the mainstream; the bands associated with this movement could be called Euro-goth: bands such as Unheilig, Peter Heppner and Wolfsheim, Letzte Instanz, and Euro-EBM such as Oomph!. The goth music scene is structured not unlike other ones, for example the metal scene, and there are, as indicated above, large festivals in Europe, for example ‘Wave-Gotik-Treffen’ in Leipzig, ‘M’era Luna’ in Hildesheim, and ‘Castlerock’ in Mülheim/Ruhr. Today, there is a wide range of directions and styles. One fairly recent direction is called ‘pastel-goth’, a fashion style not related to a specific direction in goth music. Since 2011, steampunk has become increasingly influential. It emerged as a style in outward appearance at festivals in Germany, and as in the case of pastel goth, it was not associated with a musical genre. By 2014, steampunk already had a greater audio-visual presence, and American bands such as Abbney Park as well as a few German bands now play steampunk. The music is a combination of neo-Victorian film music and American folk music, and bands rely on visuals that refer to the early history of the American West. Steampunk is the most recent form of Cosplay in the gothic scene, and it is also possible to discern the

134  Birgit Richard influence of Japanese pop culture in general and Visual Kei and Lolita style in particular. In Germany, steampunk implies performances of combinations of neoVictorian styles and new technologies. Perhaps partly due to the importance of the visual-performative dimension of the goth scene, there are further divisions in-between the goth scene and other genres as the body-oriented electronic club music scene, especially the gloomy, dark style of witch house, which seems to be closely related to the goth scene. As these recent examples indicate, German gothic music now includes many subgenres, and while it has gone mainstream, there are still, to use Dick Hebdige’s terms (1979), subcultural parts or what Paul Hodkinson (2002) describes as a subcultural substance.

15 ‘The interesting ones’ ‘Hamburger Schule’ and the ‘secondariness’ of German pop Till Huber

Introduction German pop music has been characterized by what Diedrich Diederichsen calls ‘secondariness’ (Diederichsen, 1990). According to Diederichsen, this term does not imply that the music or lyrics of German pop are of inferior quality; instead it is secondary to ‘genuine’ Anglo-American pop music. It is known for ‘referring to, imitating and being fixated on Anglo-American role models’ (Diederichsen, 1990). Regardless of whether the lyrics are in German or English, pop music in Germany has constantly reflected on its difference from Anglo-American pop, albeit unintentionally or subconsciously. What makes German pop music so interesting and unique, Diederichsen claims, are its failed efforts of creating something autonomous. In the history of German pop, an idiosyncratic aesthetics emerged that openly displays this failure.

Foundation of a school What has come to be known as the ‘Hamburger Schule’ (Hamburg school) emphatically embraced secondariness as part of its aesthetic. The term has been used since the beginning of the 1990s for groups such as Blumfeld, Tocotronic, and Die Sterne (also associated with this phenomenon are relatively unknown bands such as Ostzonensuppenwürfelmachenkrebs, Cpt. Kirk &., and Kolossale Jugend). The works of these bands have been characterized by intellectualized, hermetic, and abstract lyrics, which represent an entirely new approach to language in German pop music. Although these lyrics were written in German, they appeared unfamiliar to the German audiences because of their convoluted syntax and cumbersome diction. For example, the archives of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ include long and complicated song titles, such as Blumfeld’s ‘Von der Unmöglichkeit ‘Nein’ zu sagen, ohne sich umzubringen’ (About the Impossibility to Say ‘No’ Without Killing Yourself, 1992), Tocotronic’s ‘Über Sex kann man nur auf Englisch singen’ (You Can Only Sing about Sex in English, 1995), and Die Sterne’s ‘Von allen Gedanken schätze ich doch am meisten die interessanten’ (Of All the Thoughts, Those I Cherish the Most Are the Interesting Ones, 1997).

136  Till Huber As suggested by these titles, the self-reflexive qualities of the lyrics have become quite pronounced, which is why the term ‘Diskursrock’ (discourse rock) has also been used as a synonym for ‘Hamburger Schule’. The bands’ self-reflections refer to the place and the medium in which their music and lyrics are performed. In ‘You Can Only Sing about Sex in English’, the song mentioned above, Tocotronic directly addresses the awkwardness of cross-cultural mediation, an awkwardness that is perhaps unavoidable when writing pop lyrics in German. Blumfeld’s song, on the other hand, can be understood as a contextualisation in pop culture and the economic system, essentially paraphrasing Theodor W. Adorno’s famous statement in ‘Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life’ (1951) that ‘there is no right life in the wrong one’, Blumfeld emphasizes the inevitable entanglements of their work, the pop industry, and the logic of capitalism. As indicated by the title of the song, ‘saying no’ either results in (self-)destruction or leads to a compromised and ideologically embedded ‘no’, which, at least to some extent, implies a ‘yes’. Even if the term ‘Hamburger Schule’ was in fact coined, in part, as a nod to the Frankfurt School of Critical Theory, the connection is vague. Both schools share a kind of cultural criticism, which is not stated from an Archimedean point, and this approach shows that the observer is part of the events being criticized. This reflection on the production conditions (including the city of Hamburg as a location) is a key characteristic feature of the ‘Hamburger Schule’. Die Sterne’s song mentioned above can be understood as a self-confident description of the band’s poetics and a self-positioning in the contemporary field of German pop in 1997, the year when the song was released. One could argue that the most interesting thoughts in German pop at this time actually were found in the lyrics of Die Sterne. They were and still are, to use the title of the English version of the song, ‘The Interesting Ones’. In addition to a tendency for reflection, the language of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ can be considered ‘secondary’ in the sense that it is characterized by references and allusions, or, to use the term commonly used in literary and cultural studies, intertextuality. The lyrics of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ are constituted by a reflection of the ‘external’, that is, of political, economic, or cultural contexts. This is also true for a textual ‘outside’, as a number of pretexts from popular culture and high(-brow) culture are referenced. The inclusion of other texts puts the emotive function of the lyrics into perspective, while it emphasizes the subjectivity of the lyrical I as a textual construction. That said, many fans have regarded these kinds of lyrics as instances of an intimate language they can identify with.

The part of journalism and references However, there were also well-informed circles that celebrated the more academic and intellectual approach to pop music that the bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ chose. Above all, the productive and congenial interdependencies between the protagonists of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ and music journalists writing for the influential pop music magazine Spex led to a heyday of ‘pop discourse’, i.e. academic

‘The interesting ones’  137 discussions of pop. The high number of references and allusions to film, literature, and philosophy, along with the ‘intimate’ quality of the lyrics, foregrounds two aspects: first, the language of pop music can touch us, and, second, by doing so, it remains constructed and artificial, constituting itself in relation to a cultural, textual, and political ‘outside’. The ‘Hamburger Schule’ is not simply pop music, but it is also a reflection on pop music (in Germany). Moreover, the secondariness of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ has political dimensions, as it blends left-wing and anti-fascist orientation with a certain musical and lyrical style. In this sense, intertextuality and poststructuralist ideas can be understood as an aesthetic antidote to German reunification, precisely because the notion of ‘unity’ is avoided at the textual level. As Blumfeld puts it in the song ‘Verstärker’ (Amplifier, 1994), ‘any closed space is a coffin’. For the bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’, any self-sufficient and self-contained statement in pop or elsewhere amounts to the death of discourse as an emancipatory practice. On an even more abstract level, one could well argue that unity is replaced by openness and ambiguity in the works of bands associated with the ‘Hamburger Schule’.

On polit-rock As a musical movement that considers itself political, the ‘Hamburger Schule’ continues a long tradition of political German pop music. The most obvious connection in this respect is the link to polit-rock (political rock), a label that has been used for bands such as Ton Steine Scherben and Floh de Cologne, which were successful in the 1960s and 1970s. While the ‘Hamburger Schule’ reflects on its entanglement with pop culture, polit-rock seems to exploit the novelty of Anglo-American pop-aesthetics in order to propagate and give mass appeal to the political demands of trade unions, orthodox Marxists, and extra-parliamentary opposition. When the bands associated with polit-rock embraced rock music, however, they were very sceptical of pop culture and its consumerist implications, and they often adopted anti-American attitudes. In the left pop scene, the world was seen in black and white: on the one hand, there were the workers, the young, and representatives of the counter culture, and, on the other hand, evil capitalists. The ‘Hamburger Schule’, however, struck an entirely different note. In Blumfeld’s song ‘Eine eigene Geschichte’ (A Story/History of One’s Own, 1994), there is talk of ‘a state / government that moves through me’ that is present ‘even in my kisses’. The song explores what life in capitalism does to the human psyche and human desires without identifying an enemy as clearly as it would have been done in polit-rock. Blumfeld’s approach can even be regarded as a postmodern reinterpretation of the 1968 slogan ‘the personal is political’. The lyrics of bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ are, accordingly, much more complex than those of polit-rock. They are wary of conviction behind Ton Steine Scherben’s political slogans, and have been, in this particular respect, influenced by poststructuralist theories.

138  Till Huber

‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ Despite their scepticism concerning the strategies of polit-rock, the bands associated with the ‘Hamburger Schule’ can be regarded as ‘politically committed’ and serious, insofar as they, too, are interested in the condition of a lyrical I located in a capitalistic pop culture. In this respect, they differ from those bands associated with ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ (see Hornberger in this book), whose ironic and postmodern lyrics can be understood as a response to the alternative social movements of the 1970s and their anti-consumption and anti-nuclear agenda. Musicians contributing to ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ expressed their disgust with the emphasis given by former hippies on political discussions by using slogans such as ‘Hurra, hurra, die Schule brennt’ (Hurray, Hurray, School Is Burning, by Extrabreit, 1980) and ‘Ich will Spaß’ (I Want Some Fun, by Markus, 1982). In contrast to ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’, with its artificial, minimalistic, and ironic pop forms, the ‘Hamburger Schule’ is characterized by its ‘negotiations’ with rock aesthetics and rock ideology. Especially US-American and British indie rock groups such as Sonic Youth, Pavement, and The Fall exerted considerable influence on bands and their music. It was unmistakably rock music, yet the lack of irony in and the presumably authentic attitude of rock was part of the discussion. Jochen Distelmeyer, the singer and songwriter of Blumfeld, put it, in an interview with an American music magazine about his band, as follows: ‘Sometimes I think this band sounds like the last possibility of making rock music in a serious, non-ironic way’ (Gladstone, 1995: p. 26). Despite these differences, ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ played an important role for the self-image of the ‘Hamburger Schule’, as it responded to the lack of musical and lyrical complexity due to the anti-elitism of the polit-rock bands. When ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ emerged at the beginning of the 1980s, it became clear that there was an aesthetic turn and that (even political) pop songs could be appreciated for their aesthetic appeal and not merely for their political or social impact. In this respect, the band Fehlfarben represents a common lyrical and musical point of reference for both ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ and the ‘Hamburger Schule’. Their lyrics, unlike those of polit-rock, were both aesthetically and politically ambitious, and therefore they could be a part of ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’, an essentially apolitical direction in German pop music.

Conclusion The ‘Hamburger Schule’ can be regarded as an immediate response to mid-eighties deutschrock, which included bands and singers such as BAP, Herbert Grönemeyer, Heinz Rudolf Kunze, Klaus Lage, Wolf Maahn, Peter Maffay, and Marius Müller-Westernhagen. After the radical artificiality of ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’, the destructiveness of punk, and the dogmatic attitude of polit-rock, deutschrock was characterized by mediocrity, stasis, and the absence of a progressive aesthetic or political impetus. This direction in German mainstream rock sought to imitate Anglo-American rock music in the vein of Bruce Springsteen, the Rolling Stones,

‘The interesting ones’  139 and Bob Dylan. Politically, moderate left-liberal positions can be identified in the socio-critical lyrics of the deutschrock bands. While ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ brought prosperity to German-language pop music, Tobias Levin (singer and guitarist of Cpt. Kirk &.) refers to the period after ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ as an ‘aftershow depression’ (Kuhn, 2003: p. 129). In this kind of context, overcoming the deutschrock paradigm was a major success by the bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ at the end of the 1980s. Blumfeld, Kolossale Jugend, and Cpt. Kirk &. were among the first who departed from the rather sentimental and plain lyrics of deutschrock by radically embracing secondariness and its relevant strategies of reflection, collage, and abstraction. Perhaps because of these strategies, the bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ have, often in a rather pejorative manner, been associated with academia and elitism. Given this reception, it is surprising that an academic debate on the ‘Hamburger Schule’ in musicology, the social sciences, or literary studies has not yet taken place. Despite the alleged elitism of many bands, youth cultures have appeared in response to Tocotronic, Die Sterne, and Blumfeld, and these scenes still exist today. If one takes pleasure in the radical secondariness of this direction in German pop, as many fans and critics still do, the bands of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ still remain ‘the interesting ones’. The aesthetics of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ continue to be influential as many bands are either still active (Tocotronic, Die Goldenen Zitronen, Die Sterne) or have reunited (Blumfeld). In addition, a younger generation of German and Austrian bands such as Messer, Trümmer, Die Nerven, and Ja, Panik have productively engaged with the aesthetics and ideas proposed by diskursrock and ‘Hamburger Schule’.

16 Music, line dance and country and western-themed events Insights into German country music culture Stefanie Jäger and Nils Kirschlager Goodbye California, goodbye Idaho, wir machen uns’re eig’ne deutsche Countrymusic-Show. Cowboys in Ost und West vereint euch brüderlich, so wie Truck Stop, Tom Astor und ich. Goodbye California, goodbye Idaho, we’re doin’ our own German Country music show. Cowboys in East and West brotherly unite, just like Truck Stop, Tom Astor and me. 

(Gabriel, 1995)

Introduction The German country scene is composed of a small but devoted group of enthusiasts with a profound interest in American cultural domains such as country and western music, dance and cowboy romanticism. Despite the commercial success of some German country artists and a steady interest in Germany in country and western dance and themed events, there has been no significant research on the topic. This essay aims to gather and evaluate information to create an initial overview of the country scene in Germany. We enrich the relatively scarce data with personal experiences from a musician’s point of view.1 The essay consists of three core sections. To begin with, we point to some of the most relevant German country music artists, then subsequently highlight the impact of line dance culture on the scene. As a last point we delineate the most important aspects of German country and western–themed events that represent a platform of performance and communication within the German country scene.

Histories and musical examples We begin by looking at the German country music scene from the point of view of how musicians work within it. We have chosen to do this by focusing closely on some representative musicians – one band and two solo artists – who are among the most popular country music acts nationally in Germany. We will look closely at one of each artist’s most successful songs, picking out lyrical content, arrangement, and sound in order to create an impression of some supposedly specific

Country and western-themed events 141 German aspects of composing country music. The songs we look at were chosen for their representativeness, being original songs with German lyrics that had appreciably high economic success for national acts, including major label distribution and frequent appearances in mainstream media and live performances. The six-piece band Truck Stop was founded in 1973 in Harburg, south of Hamburg. The personnel have changed through the years, but the instrumental line-up of the band has remained largely the same, except for original saxophone having been replaced by accordion and fiddle. These instrumental changes coincided with the band’s shift in musical style in the late 1970s, from English-language rock’n’roll and blues to country music with German lyrics. Truck Stop gained popularity through regular television appearances during the 70s and 80s on ‘ZDF Hitparade’, the monthly TV show featuring (semi-)live performances by German musical acts, especially schlager. Truck Stop’s first hit, ‘Ich möcht’ so gern Dave Dudley hör’n’ (I’d Really Like to Listen to Dave Dudley), was released on the 1977 album ‘Zu Hause’ (At Home). The song is about a truck driver by the name of Gunter G.,2 who is desperate to listen to proper country music on the radio to fight boredom and fatigue. The American Forces Network (AFN) is long out of range and a snowstorm is obstructing driving visibility. In addition to Dave Dudley, possibly the most important American country artist for the US truckers, Hank Snow and Charley Pride are mentioned as being ‘proper’ country singers that the truck driver would like to listen to. The song begins with an instrumental intro that starts with a fiddle and pedal-steel-dominated eight-bar turnaround following the I, IV, V chords in A major. Once the first verse begins, the pedal steel and fiddle serve as embellishing melodic fill-ins on the minor chord after each sung stanza. There is an acoustic guitar that supports backbeat accents with open chords and plays the bass notes on the downbeat along with the bass and the electric guitar. An upright piano is mixed in the background to provide a honky-tonk type of sound. Drums are subtle during the verse, being just a bass drum, hi-hats and rim-clicks played on the snare. A short drum fill and a twangy guitar lick lead into the first chorus, which is emphasised by a fuller snare drum sound. A choir supports the singer during the chorus, the pedal steel and fiddle are brought forward again to further raise the dynamics and the electric guitar cleanly plays a palm-muted eighth note riff until the second verse begins and the arrangement predictably thins out again. For the next two verses and choruses this formula remains the same. After the second chorus the pedal steel plays an eight-bar solo over the chords and form of the verse. Apart from overall arrangement style and the matching instrumental line-up, the weeping notes of a pedal steel is probably what the German country music listener most associates with the ‘country sound’, as in Germany it is a rather exotic instrument that only very rarely appears in popular music outside the country genre. Even today the instrument is hard to acquire, with only a few specialists offering pedal steels for fairly high prices; hence, there are correspondingly few competent players among professional musicians in the German country scene. The addition of a pedal steel guitar to Truck Stop’s instrumentation is a crucial factor in the band’s creating a sound received as authentic by the German country fan.

142  Stefanie Jäger and Nils Kirschlager Tom Astor was born Wilhelm Bräutigam in Schmallenberg, Germany in 1943; he adopted his performing name in 1970 due to requirements of a recording deal with the Frankfurt Main–based Bellaphon record company. Bellaphon’s focus at the time was on popular schlager and volksmusik acts like Die Flippers, but Astor, inspired by country and western compilations he acquired on vinyl and AFN playing the music of Johnny Cash, decided after a few years to dedicate himself to German-language country music, in 1977. The first audience to appreciate his new musical approach were truck drivers, who began booking him for performances at conventions. Hence his best-known songs tended to be truck-driving–themed. In 2000, Astor performed at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, Tennessee, one of the few German artists ever to do so (cf. Leibeling, 2006). On his 1993 album ‘Flieg, junger Adler’ (Fly, Young Eagle), his biggest success was the title track, dedicated to his son who is symbolized by the titular ‘eagle’. In the lyrics, the singer offers guidance and advice on how to grow up in a sometimes hostile world, described in terms of ‘Wild West’ metaphors. The arrangement of drums, guitars and bass is very similar to that of the Truck Stop song just discussed: a simple I, IV, V form in A major, strong pronunciation on the backbeat and the bass alternating between the root note and the fourth. A clean guitar sound playing double-stops,3 and a tremolo-picked mandolin add more country-specific playing styles to the arrangement. Stylistically unusual elements are the children’s choir and bagpipes that fill out the arrangement of the chorus, providing a hymnlike emotionalism. Günter Caspelherr was born in 1942 in Bünde, North Rhine-Westphalia. He started his musical career as a songwriter for Hansa Records, a Berlin-based label whose roster of artists were a significant presence on the ‘ZDF Hitparade’ TV show where Truck Stop also became popular. On his 1973 debut album ‘Gesucht’ (Wanted), Caspelherr took the artist name Gunter Gabriel and recorded his first German-language country compositions. Like Truck Stop and Tom Astor, he targeted truck drivers as his main audience with his lyrics and sound. His musical inspirations were 1950s rock’n’roll and his idol was Johnny Cash. The 1970s marked the most successful period of his career. More recently, reflecting on his roots as a musician, he has released ‘Gabriel singt Cash – das Tennessee Projekt’ (Gabriel Sings Cash – the Tennessee Project) in 2008 (Rau, 2008), and the follow-up ‘Gabriel singt Cash’ (Gabriel Sings Cash), in 2011. Both albums feature German-language versions of Johnny Cash songs. His own song ‘Hey Boss – Ich brauch’ mehr Geld’ (Hey Boss, I Need More Money) from his 1974 debut album, is one of his best known compositions. The lyrics are written from the perspective of a workingman who, conscientiously doing his work, wants more adequate wages for his efforts. The verse uses once more a I, IV, V progression in A major with a similar strumming pattern as in the earlier discussed songs on the acoustic guitar and a muted electric guitar playing along the bass-line. The chorus is marked by the introduction of the ♭VII chord, and a choir of backing vocals augments the appeal of this hook phrase. There is no instrumental interlude or solo, so the song seems to focus on conveying the lyrics to the listener.

Country and western-themed events  143 A comparison of these three songs, among the biggest musical successes of these three artists, reveals a very similar approach to composing, arrangement and sound, one that is also very close to their musical archetypes. This is not surprising, as these German artists all name contemporary American musicians such as Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson as their main inspirations. All of these latter artists were protagonists of the ‘Outlaw Country Movement’4 in the United States during the 1970s. The Outlaw-derived sound is still dominant in recent recordings of Truck Stop, Astor and Gabriel and consequently a very prominent style in the German country scene. The stage outfits of Truck Stop and Tom Astor match the style of their Texan idols, sporting cowboy boots, hats and big belt-buckles. Gabriel, however, never made this type of western-wear a crucial element of his performances. Our examination of these songs has revealed a particular sound that is characteristic of country music in Germany. It relates both to instrumentation and the compositional choices made with this instrumentation. The basic sound is sometimes highlighted by other very characteristic country touches, such as the use of the lap steel, but German artists do sometimes vary the formula in less predictable ways (bagpipes). The Outlaw Country Movement from the USA directly inspires this sound, and the lyrical contents of the songs can also be seen to follow the artistic goals of this movement. The lyrics speak directly to an audience of ordinary people, workingmen, and truck drivers in a language they understand (German country music has German lyrics) about their ordinary concerns (a decent wage, raising a child). The attitude is rather male or manly, and the metaphors are either from the life of the workingman himself or from a symbolic register he understands and appreciates, the myth of the cowboy.

Line dances In addition to the music itself, another important aspect of German country culture is line dance and the associated clubs where people go to line dance. As we examine this topic, we will quickly define line dance, and then present our findings concerning current numbers, organizational structures and geographical spread of line dance clubs in Germany. A line dance is a group dance characterized by strict choreography with a repeated sequence of steps. A group of dancers performing a line dance forms into one or more lines or rows, arranged with no regard for the dancers’ gender, and all execute the steps for the respective song at the same time. An important feature of line dances is that routines are usually choreographed for particular songs. As a result, the repertoire of line dances is usually restricted to routines for songs that have achieved a certain level of popularity. The consequences of this for country and western–themed events, where line dances are performed, and musicians must play a suitable repertoire, will be discussed later. In Germany, there is one specialist magazine on line dancing, Living Linedance. We contacted the editors and asked for information on the line-dancing scene, and about current numbers. They stated that people interested in line dancing usually

144  Stefanie Jäger and Nils Kirschlager organise clubs that meet regularly to practise dances and to visit country-themed events as a club. This fits with a general preference in German society for wellorganised club structures. Nevertheless, we found that the attempt to consolidate all line dance clubs under one national umbrella organisation has been unsuccessful so far. There is a Bundesverband für Country & Westerntanz Deutschland e.V. (BfCW) (Federal Association for Country and Western Dance Germany) but as yet it has not succeeded in becoming the definitive organisation for line dancing. Thus, to date, there is no single, relatively complete register of line-dancing clubs. This fact also made our attempt to estimate line dance numbers rather more difficult. However, by using the available online-registers of German line dance clubs we gathered the following information about numbers, and about the geographic spread of line dancing in Germany. Overall, we identified about 432 line dance clubs nationwide. The biggest absolute number was in Bavaria (73), followed by Lower Saxony (58), Hessen (45) and North Rhine-Westphalia (44). However, taking into account population, we find that Brandenburg and MecklenburgWestern Pomerania contain by far the most line dance clubs proportional to number of inhabitants. Thus, country and western dance seems to be most popular in the eastern part of Germany. It is difficult to say anything much more specific about line dance culture in Germany. However, we feel that it is worthwhile adding some of our personal experiences and observations as members of a touring country band, as we believe that these qualitative impressions yield some fruitful ideas and starting points. As well as specific line-dancing events, line dances also happen at more generally themed country and western events. Indeed, the numbers of visitors to a country and western event who are involved in line dancing activities lead to the assumption that line dancers are a major target audience for the organizers of such events. This has implications for other aspects of the events. We mentioned earlier that the repertoire of line dances is usually restricted to certain, rather popular songs. Consequently, the segment of the audience at country and western events who wish to line dance inevitably demand to hear these kinds of popular country songs at every event. This means that the event organizers may sometimes favour recorded music and certainly that even live bands have to adapt to the dancers’ desires and play at least some cover songs during their set. This in turn means that event organizers tend to rely on certain bands with a certain repertoire. Being ourselves members of a country band that concentrates on original material, we experienced this situation at almost every gig where line dancers were present. From the dancers’ perspective, communicating the necessary choreography to unfamiliar music is very difficult, so our desire to play original music interfered with their desire to dance.

Country festival cultures We have just painted a picture of country and western events in Germany and how they are influenced by line dancing. We would now like to expand on the more general idea of a German country event: what happens at such events, and where and how often they occur.

Country and western-themed events 145 We begin with some numbers – these are based on an evaluation of several Internet country event calendars for the year 2014. Altogether, we counted fortyeight country events in 2014, which were spread over twelve of the sixteen states. The most events happened in Saxony (ten), Thuringia (nine) and North RhineWestphalia (eight). Looking proportionally at the number of inhabitants, however, more country events took place in Thuringia, Brandenburg, Saxony and SaxonyAnhalt. Thus, just as line dancing seemed more popular in eastern Germany, so too does there seem to be a bigger interest in country and western–themed events in more eastern states. What happens at such events – what constitutes a country and western event in Germany? Our answers are based on the advertised information we could find about these events and on our own experiences. A typical German country and western–themed event is usually a combination of several attractions or participants, which may be put into four different categories responsible for determining the programme of an event and shaping it in different cultural directions. These categories are, namely, music, country and western dance, commercial operators and further groupings of aficionados of other aspects of US-American culture. We assume certain overlaps of these sections with country music fans in general, as illustrated in Figure 16.1 below.

Figure 16.1  The components of a typical country and western-themed event in Germany Credit: Stefanie Jäger/Nils Kirschlager

146  Stefanie Jäger and Nils Kirschlager A typical country and western event is characterised by its familiarity and tradition. This sense of tradition is often evoked directly in event names: for example, ‘34. Rodeo Sebnitz’ (The 34th Sebnitz Rodeo) or ‘30 Jahre Sommerfest Trappers Kaltenbroich’ (30 Years of the Kaltenbroich Trappers Summer Festival). We observed attendees spanning a wide range of ages and often coming with their whole families. As visitors at such events ourselves, we have also noted themed clothing, fashion and costumes that reveal people of different generations and social statuses.

Conclusion We have presented some initial data, impressions and starting points on which to build further research into the country music scene in Germany and related topics such as line dancing and country and western–themed events. From this exploratory research, we now draw the following overall conclusions. It seems true to say that the repertoire and sound of established German country music artists reveals a high degree of constancy over the past thirty years. This may be due to a traditionconsciousness that is also evident among line dance groups and country and western– themed events. Indeed, the musical conservativeness of German country music might be related to these other aspects of the country and western scene. We observed that line dancers are very important to the organizers of country and western events and so have a major influence on the musical repertoire of such events. Line dance choreography focuses on certain country music hits, and musicians and DJs adapt to this. This adaptation may go some way to explaining the lack of younger bands composing original new material in a more modern country sound in Germany. We willingly admit that our findings about German country music and related cultural activities are quite rudimentary. But this reflects the significant lack of research in this area. Both in-depth empirical and qualitative examination of German country music is needed, and we hope that we have produced a beginning from which further research questions may be pursued.

Notes 1 The authors are members of the country band Jolanda Hunter and the Freedom Fries, which performed regularly at country and western–themed events between 2008 and 2014. 2 His name is a reference to country music artist Gunter Gabriel. 3 This playing style is typical for the country genre. Melodies are played in intervals, preferably in thirds or sixths. 4 This was a Texan alternative to the country-pop coming from Nashville in the 1970s.

Part V

Politics and gender

17 Music of the right-wing scene Text content, distribution and effects Georg Brunner

Lines of (musical) development Present day right-wing music in Germany (generically called ‘rechtsrock’) is often associated with skinhead culture. This association between contemporary right-wing music and skinhead culture is partly true, so it is a good starting point for following the lines of musical development of contemporary right-wing German music. However, tracing this development will show that right-wing ideas are pervasive through a far broader range of musical styles and subcultures today than the predominant association with skinheads would suggest. On the one hand, this broad presence of right-wing music is a cause for concern, especially as much right-wing content is subtler – though none the less worrying – than the clear stereotype of the skinhead might suggest. On the other hand, although the right-wing music scene can quite easily access teenagers, young people who may be listening to music (in different genres) with right-wing content does not mean they will be ideologically radicalized. Men dominated the German right-wing skinhead music scene until the 1990s. There were only few women (called ‘Renees’). After that time the number of female bands rose, especially after the year 2000 (e.g. Gemeinschaft Deutscher Frauen, Mädelschar Deutschland). Nowadays right-wing women bands (Wallküren, Lokis Horden, Ostara, Froidenspender) and female songwriters (Annett Mueller, Swantje Swanhwit) also are part of the market (cf. Funk-Hennigs, 2006: pp. 97–114).

History and influences The association of right-wing music with skinheads actually begins in Britain. There, skinheads were initially an offshoot of 1960s ‘mod’ culture who saw themselves as street-oriented, working-class brawlers – a phalanx of men who were battle-hardened (by the riots between mods and rockers) and therefore very attractive to right-wing activists. But skinheads were also strongly inspired by Jamaican music and ‘rudeboys’, with many skinheads being familiar with and friendly to West Indian immigrants, especially in London. During the 1970s, however, skinheads moved towards punk, diminishing their links to ‘black’

150  Georg Brunner music.1 Skinheads particularly favored a form of punk known as ‘oi!’, which expressed ‘street’ concerns (ranging from government oppression and unemployment to football and sex) through music that incorporated folk music, marches and football chants. Many bands (punks such as The Clash or oi! bands like Sham 69) were politically leftist and took strongly anti-racist stances, while others were explicitly apolitical (Cockney Reject, Cock Sparrer). But others, such as Skrewdriver, fronted by Ian Stuart Donaldson, were starkly right-wing. Skrewdriver became the Ur-band of the so-called ‘Rock against Communism’ (RAC) or ‘White Power Music’ movement, with strong political and organizational connections to the National Front and then the British Nationalist Party (formed in 1982). In 1987, Donaldson set up the Blood and Honour (B&H) music network to promote RAC bands and their music. Since the 1960s, British music had been particularly influential internationally, as were the various subcultures surrounding it. These included right-wing musical subcultures within the skinhead and punk movements, and both the RAC and B&H organizations spread across Europe, amplified by political connections to extremist organizations such as Combat 18, which were also spreading beyond their British origins to connect with right-wing extremists elsewhere. In Germany, the existing right-wing music scene was fertile soil for such influences and punk and skinhead culture renewed, or even replaced, older rightwing music. German right-wing music up to the late 1970s/early 1980s had been dominated by folk and marching music, and even some singer-songwriters, but it quickly adopted the punk and oi! styles from Britain (aided perhaps by these styles’ use of folk and march elements). Just as in Britain, the picture was complex, but various subcultures, including leftist and apolitical ones, were initially present. Eventually, however, the right-wing scene won out. The skinhead look – not only the eponymous hairstyle, but also clothing and other fashion – was very striking, and perceptions in the media and public of skinheads as a very visible right-wing youth phenomenon increased the attractiveness to young right-wing people, cementing the association of skinheads, the music they favoured (rock and punk rock) and right-wing music, which became known as ‘rechtsrock’. German skinhead bands that were known to be right-wing in the 1980s included Stoerkraft, Kraft durch Froide, Noie Werte, Endstufe and Böhse Onkelz. In the 1990s, a further boom of extreme right-wing youth culture (with the well-known band Landser being representative of this scene) occurred, especially in rural areas in the ‘new’ federal states of the former GDR. This scene was closely linked to neo-Nazi skinhead groups. The British B&H network established a German division in the mid-1990s and organized tours of bands throughout Germany (cf. Baumgärtner & Diehl, 2013). In September 2000, B&H was banned in Germany, but its regional networks continued – and continue – to be active, using the number ‘28’ to identify themselves.2 Despite its public image, skinhead punk is not the only genre that has contributed to the formation of the German right-wing music scene. For instance, heavy metal music has also had an important role in the development of the right-wing

Music of the right-wing scene 151 scene, beginning in the 1990s. A tendency across many metal styles towards an aesthetic of orchestrated brutality and the glorification of war and destruction creates certain affinities to right-wing ideas, especially in certain subgenres such as death metal. Not only anti-Semitism, but also a rejection of Christianity is another factors at play in certain metal scenes. In particular, ‘black metal’ (bm) focuses on pagan ideas  – specifically, Germanic pagan ideas  – and this has led to the development of ‘National Socialist Black Metal’ (NSBM), a very extreme right-wing music scene (cf. Dornbusch & Killguss, 2005; Langebach & Raabe, 2013). Metal and punk are not that different, however, to most perceptions of rechtsrock – they are both aggressive, loud forms of rock. What is now important to realize is that this stereotype misses much of the music that should be seen as right-wing. The proscription of B&H in 2000 may play an ironic role here: rather than reducing the synergy of certain music scenes and right-wing ideas, the ban may have had the effect instead of diffusing populist, nationalistic and politically chauvinist right-wing ideas into a broader range of popular music genres, including genres that do not specifically target consumer groups that are intrinsically right-wing – and which may not be ‘rock music’ in the classical sense of being founded on the dynamics of guitar, bass and drums. Thus, right-wing ideas can be identified in musical forms that are usually consumed as apolitical and which may even be popular in youth scenes more typically oriented to the political left. Right-wing ideas often find ready connections to musical concerns that already exist in these diverse genres. For example, the expression in German rock music or in gothic/dark wave music of a longing for identity, meaning or depth, as well as an interest in the mystical or apocalyptic, can take on stark right-wing emphases. Similarly, the culture of masculinity found in hardcore punk, rap and hip-hop, especially if an anti-Semitic ethos is already also present, can connect to rightwing ideas. Certain musicians and DJs associated with the electronic dance styles of techno and gabba (or gabber) have also expressed right-wing ideas through lyrics and image (for example, there are relatively prominent gabba musicians styling themselves as ‘DJ Adolf’ and ‘DJ Goebbels’), and even just the aggressive sound of high bpm gabba (also known as hardcore).3 Another way in which right-wing musicians subvert generic styles is through projects referred to as hit or mood music, which mimic or parody successful pop, rock and folk music – for example, Die Zillertaler Türkenjäger or Die Faschistischen Vier (playing off the folk/schlager group Die Zillertaler Schürzenjäger and the pop-rap group Die Fantastischen Vier, respectively). Because of this diffusion of right-wing ideas throughout different music scenes, often via musical or artistic concerns that are not intrinsically rightwing, a debate has begun to appear in German music journalism and fandom about so-called ‘grey areas’ across different youth cultures. Located in these grey areas are bands, labels and concert promoters that identify themselves as apolitical but do not do enough to fully dissociate themselves from the

152  Georg Brunner right-wing scene. Some grey-area dwellers, despite their apolitical claims, are even seen to be pioneers in expanding the right-wing scene. (Archiv der Jugendkulturen, 2012) Overall then, compared with the perception that the right-wing music scene means skinheads and rock, the number of musicians who can be connected to the rightwing, across a wide breadth of styles, is remarkable. Table 17.1 lists some of the most prominent right-wing musicians in different genres and scenes, although it is far from exhaustive (in 2012, Germany’s domestic security office, the Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz [Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution] identified 205 right-wing music groups; cf. www.verfassungsschutz.de).

When is music rechtsrock? Lyrical analyses The foregoing suggests that right-wing music is much more diverse than typical stereotypes of rechtsrock would suggest. It also raises identification questions, especially in grey areas, where bands and labels can be seen as not right-wing, or might claim to not be right-wing, but should in fact be seen to espouse rightwing ideas. At least in the case of musicians whose music has lyrics, one way to Table 17.1  Styles of extreme right-wing music Style

Musicians/Bands (Examples)

Punk/oi (street punk) 

Forward Area Arbeiterklasse, Division Staufen, Proissenhades, Endstufe, Erschießungskommando Heiliger Krieg, Loaded, The Movement, stage bottles Landser, Kahlkopf, Stahlgewitter, Kraftschlag, Frei.Wild, Götterdämmerung, MIA Varg, Absurd, Totenburg, Eugenik (Burzum)

Skinhead  Hard rock/heavy metal/ deutschrock  NS black (pagan) metal (nsbm)  Gothic-szene (dark Wave)/ neofolk/industrial Hard- and hatecore (national socialist hardcore/hatecore nshc) Hip-hop

Techno/gabba Hit- /mood music  Singer-songwriter

Death in June, Von Thronstahl, Boyd Rice & Friends, Allerseelen, Waldteufel White Aryan Rebels, Hate Society Dalley Broken Dreams, Kataxu, Blutkult; Straight Edge, Angry Aryans, Full of Hate, Agitator King Bock, Dee Ex, Villain 051, Dissziplin, Makss Damage, n’Socialist Soundsystem, Sprechgesang zum Untergang, Cynic, Natürlich DJ Adolf, Aryan Dance Resistance, Eddie Medusa, DJ Goebbels, Powerstation Holocaust, Speed Freak, Lord Lloigor, Zillertaler Türkenjäger, Gigi und die Braunen Stadtmusikanten, Die faschistischen Vier Annett, Rennicke, Hähnel, Arische Jugend

Music of the right-wing scene  153 approach such identification questions is through the textual analysis of a musician’s lyrics. Consequently, the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG; the German Research Foundation) has funded an extensive project to analyze ‘speech patterns in extreme right-wing music scenes’ (the project studied approximately 5,500 songs published up to 2005). As part of this work, Mathias and Schlobinski (2010) identified a very clear central paradigm for the typical right-wing lyric, namely the dichotomy of friend/ enemy. In addition, they were able to specify a detailed list of the ‘enemies’ referred to in these songs. At the top are foreigners, followed by politically left parties, then members of other races and Jews (Matthias  & Schlobinski, 2010: pp.  75–96). In more recent lyrics, a growing criticism of globalization can be observed, while in more recent lyrics growing criticisms of globalization, social protest and environmental protection can be observed, often expressed in nationalist, anti-American or anti-Semitic contexts. Overall, however, the friend/enemy paradigm in right-wing lyrics is predominant across a wide range of topics, embracing, for example, racism, xenophobia, anti-Semitism, homophobia, Islamophobia, aggression towards establishment privileges, classic sexism, devaluation of people with disabilities, devaluation of the homeless and devaluation of longterm unemployed (cf. Heitmeyer, 2005: pp. 13–34). Yet such diagnoses of right-wing lyrical ‘concerns’ do not entirely answer the question as to when music counts as right-wing. For example, homophobia is consonant with a discomfort with homosexuality that remains part of some more conservative segments of society, while criticism of the establishment is a feature of left-wing as well as right-wing thinking. Thus, neither of these lyrical topics in themselves implies that a song is a rechtsrock song. However, this may in part indicate a problem with the term ‘rechtsrock’. That term seems best suited to describing the cliché of skinhead extremists involved with aggressive music that clearly counts as ‘rock’ music, be it punk or metal. As the preceding paragraphs have shown, the variety of musical styles which have right-wing scenes as well as the multiplicity of lyrical topics mean that rechtsrock may have become an inadequate or even misleading term. To begin clarifying the term, it is important to be clear what ‘extreme rightwing’ means in the contemporary German context. Rechtsrock seems to attach most clearly to extreme right-wing music scenes, but other scenes may be very right-wing without counting as extreme. To be ‘extreme right-wing’ in Germany is defined in terms of a relationship to the state: it means bearing unconstitutional attitudes and aspirations which are directed against the free and democratic basic order of society and against the existence and security of the Federal Republic of Germany. Political or musical scenes that represent such ideas can be legally sanctioned (as with the prohibition of B&H). Yet it seems clear that there are now strong patterns of problematic attitudes present in popular youth music – such as those captured by the syndrome of ‘group-focused enmity’ discussed above – which are constitutional yet still quite radical. For this reason, a distinction should be made between (a) right-wing music that is extreme in the sense that it is unconstitutional, governed by criminal law and potentially forbidden by law and (b)

154  Georg Brunner right-wing music that is radical in the sense that it conveys socio-ethically undesirable content from the spectrum of group-focused enmity but is not extreme per se because it does not explicitly make anti-constitutional statements. Failing to make this distinction between extreme and radical but non-extreme (in the given sense) right-wing music may disguise the problem of how widespread right-wing musical subcultures are, a disguise perhaps made more inscrutable by the term ‘rechtsrock’. The worrying spread of radical right-wing content (that is not yet ‘extreme’) has been highlighted in the work of Brunner and Gründer. They examine, for example, the song ‘Wahre Werte’ (True Values) (2010) by the South Tyrolean group Frei.Wild, a northern Italian German-speaking rock band. The song text does not have extreme right-wing content but instead proclaims conservative values that are ostensibly positive. Nonetheless, within these values, the subversive strategy of delineating internal and external groupings (‘völkisch’) is unmistakable. Frei.Wild is therefore addressing an audience which is open to extreme right-wing ideas, yet Frei.Wild is not immediately perceived as extreme rightwing. Something very similar can be seen in an entirely different genre, where the lyrics of so-called patriotischen Rappern (patriotic rappers) such as Dee Ex Dissziplin and King Bock all express German nationalist sentiments that would appeal to a rightward-leaning audience (cf. Brunner & Gründer, 2011; Salzborn, 2014: p. 59).

Distribution and effects The preceding discussion has emphasized how radical right-wing ideas are much more widely disseminated to different audiences across different genres than might be at first thought. One reason for this is that the ways music can be distributed have expanded greatly over recent years. In the 1990s, the distribution of right-wing music was a cumbersome process. On the production side, musicians had to make hard copies of their work to publish it (albums, CDs, cassettes), while on the distribution side, access to the music was largely tied to shops catering to the right-wing scene, which meant that even those seeking out right-wing music had to go someplace to get it – and such shops were obviously not as widespread as regular music stores. Nowadays, the opportunities presented by digital technology and the Internet mean that right-wing labels (e.g. Rock-O-Rama, Rebel Records, PC Records) can easily offer physical delivery of music recordings via mail order (e.g. V7 shipping, Vikings shipping) or stream music or offer downloads across various platforms (e.g. YouTube, social networks, online musicplatforms). Direct sales by bands of their records at concerts and events (in 2012, there were 82 events) also play an important role and are again facilitated by the easier production of saleable items. Another distribution avenue for the right-wing scene is the schoolyard: since 2004, militant neo-Nazi groups and (beginning a little later) the National Democratic Party (NPD) have been attempting with some success to distribute right-wing music gratis to teenagers in schoolyards under the label Schulhof-CD (School Playground-CD).

Music of the right-wing scene 155 Academic research on the consequences of the availability of right-wing music mainly focuses on its propagation among young people. A study conducted in the mid-1990s found evidence of indexed ‘behaviour’ being prevalent among students and could identify right-wing music as a vector for the presence of such attitudes among young people (cf. Scherr & Träger, 1996). Music, of course, can be a very effective way to reach young people, so political/ideological ‘Message-rock’ produced by the right-wing scene can appeal to quite broad swathes of young people with strong agitational effects. Often the right-wing music scene is described as the ‘number one gateway drug’ for young people accessing and becoming interested in right-wing ideas (cf. Elverich, Glaser & Schlimbach, 2009). In general, the effectiveness of extreme or radical right-wing music for the social integration of right-wing youth scenes has been well studied by social scientists and can be considered as essentially proven (cf. Dornbusch & Raabe, 2002; Elverich, Glaser & Schlimbach, 2009; Lauenburg, 2011). When looking at earlier studies, such as that just cited from the 1990s, it might also be assumed that digital production and distribution possibilities have only increased such effects since then. However, to know that right-wing music can appeal to young people and that young people who like right-wing music also often move rightward politically or ideologically is not to know why certain music appeals to certain people – that is, to know how the music has its effects or how it is received. Indeed, in the context of reception, it seems rather implausible to speak of an agitational effect sui generis of right-wing music (cf. Brunner, 2007: pp.  3–18; Brunner, 2011a: pp. 99–121). That is, similar dissemination and effect patterns apply for music from the right-wing scene as for any other music, so they are interesting questions how those who become fans of right-wing music first became aware of it and why it ultimately proves particularly attractive to them. Relevant factors seem to be the role of a young person’s peers and of the media (the Internet) in providing access and approval for right-wing music. Another factor might be the use by young people of music for mood management and the acting out of aggression. However, there are currently only a few studies that offer any empirical information about the distribution and reception/use of right-wing music among teenagers and of its importance to them. The work of Elverich, Glaser and Schlimbach (2009), based on interviews with consumers of extreme rightwing music, suggests some interesting results but ultimately provides no reliable data. A 2011 study by Brunner, which interviewed 250 students at different types of schools, estimated that the right-wing music scene was popular with between 8.1 and 16.3 per cent of students (cf. pp. 187–205). This study also provides some insights into why right-wing music might attract a given young person. During the interview, participants were asked to rate audio samples of various types of music, and it was apparent that genre preference correlated strongly to receptivity to music in a genre that happened to be right-wing. For example, subjects who preferred hip-hop music in general also uprated hip-hop tracks with right-wing oriented content. Thus, individual preference for a particular style or genre of music had a much more powerful influence on subjective liking or not liking of a song than the particular message of that song’s text. Nevertheless, the study

156  Georg Brunner also showed correlations between a participant’s already being inclined toward extreme right-wing attitudes and their positively assessing right-wing audio samples (cf. Gründer & Scherr, 2011). Thus, it is apparent that knowledge only of the dissemination and listening patterns for right-wing music is not sufficient to draw strong conclusions about the effects of right-wing music on its audience. This is consistent with critiques of causality models of the effects of older media on audiences, which have shown that it cannot be assumed that media usage produces direct and unique effects on media consumers (cf. Bonfadelli, 2004). A more fruitful approach is to reconstruct the practices of media use and associated meaning attributions in the contexts of consumers’ statements. Accordingly, more recent sociological research has looked at the ‘self-socialization’ of young people through the consumption of music and other media (cf. Müller, Glogner & Rhein, 2007: pp. 11–30). A study by Brunner (2011b) was able to reconstruct characteristics of three ‘right-wing hook’ types; however, this was not a representative survey despite the large number of participants (pp. 201–203). Another study by Brunner (2011a) was able to show, in group interviews with ninth-grade students (age fourteen–fifteen years) in different types of schools,4 that individual musical preference patterns are strongly influenced by the discursively produced preferences of school classes (cf. Brunner & Gründer, 2011). This means that the possible ideologizing function of extreme right-wing music is dependent on certain social conditions (school taste, clique orientation, role/position of the consumer in his/her peer group, etc.) and on pre-existing right-wing setting patterns. Gründer and Scherr (2011) similarly diagnose a broad effect that may develop when three factors coincide: (1) the accessibility of titles whose music style provides connectivity to the generally accepted taste of the classroom, (2) consumption of right-wing music by opinion leaders of the group and (3) the young person’s interpreting and identifying extreme right-wing lyrics to connect to his/her own everyday experiences’ (p.  15). Although this broad effect does allow that right-wing music can influence listeners in a rightward direction, it contradicts the simplistic theory that music is a gateway drug into the right-wing scene. That thesis is based on an overly straight-line cause-and-effect model that considers young people as passive objects of processes of indoctrination, whereas it is the active use by a young person of music to meet various personal and social needs that may tilt him or her into right-wing tendencies.

Conclusion Right-wing music in Germany (and elsewhere) is both more stylistically diverse and more widespread than the history of so-called rechtsrock would suggest. On the one hand, this is a cause for concern, as this means that right-wing ideology is easily accessible to young listeners. On the other hand, there is no clear causal path just from listening to right-wing music to forming right-wing social or political attitudes, although right-wing music may be part of a constellation of rightward influences.

Music of the right-wing scene 157

Notes 1 Furthermore, ‘black music’ became more associated with black nationalism and related concerns as ska and reggae musicians became more political. This made the music harder to relate to for many British (and European) audiences. 2 The initials B&H are the second and eighth letters of the alphabet, hence ‘28’ (the group Combat 18 mentioned above similarly uses the number ‘18’ for the first and eighth letters of the alphabet, i.e. ‘AH’ for Adolf Hitler; cf. ASP, 2013). 3 There is also a left-wing gabba scene. Much of the techno and gabba scenes – both musically and culturally (right or left wing) – originates in the Netherlands, so, just as had occurred with British punk, the German right-wing music scene continues to find inspiration and support in right-wing scenes outside Germany. 4 That is, an academically oriented secondary school, a mid-level (professionally oriented) secondary school, and a vocational secondary school, respectively – three levels of secondary education in Germany.

18 Rammstein under observation Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer and Arne Wachtmann

Introduction Rammstein, which is, at the time of writing, Germany’s most successful band on an international level, has caused considerable controversy, especially in its home country. There is a broad range of devoted fans of all ages, but there are also voices that have criticized the band for its use of nationalist and right-wing symbols and for glorifications of violence. Primarily due to the latter, the Bundesprüfstelle für jugendgefährdende Medien (BPjM, the Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors), at the request of the Federal Ministry of Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Sport, added the album ‘Liebe ist für alle da’ (Love Is There for Everyone) to what is commonly referred to as ‘the index’, that is, its list of media harmful to minors, in 2009. The committee at the BPjM responsible for this decision regarded one of the songs on the album ‘Ich tu dir weh’ (I Am Hurting You, or I Hurt You) and an image included in the CD booklet as a positively connoted conflation of sexuality and violence, and has therefore classified it as liable to corrupt the young: ‘After considering artistic freedom and our mission to protect the young, the committee accorded greater weight to the protection of young persons’. As a consequence, the band was neither allowed to actively market the album nor to sell it to consumers under the age of eighteen. As required by the BPjM, ‘Indexed media must not be presented, conveyed or made available in any other way to minors’ (Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors, 2015). In a decision issued on May 31, 2010, the Administrative Court of Cologne revisited the decision by the BPjM. The Administrative Court found that there was reasonable doubt concerning the interpretation of the album. In this case, the process of considering artistic freedom and youth protection should have, according to the court, been decided in favour of artistic freedom. Because of this decision, Rammstein’s label was allowed to market and sell the CD as intended. To journalists following the controversy concerning ‘Liebe ist für alle da’, especially to those working for German-language print media, it was somewhat surprising that an album by Rammstein, which, at that point, had already released six albums,1 had been added to the index by the BPjM only once, and in this case

Rammstein under observation 159 for only six months. The music videos for the songs ‘Stripped’ (1998) and ‘Pussy’ (2009) in particular, which cannot be further described in this context, led to considerable debate among journalists (Pilz, 2009). Academic responses to Rammstein have likewise differed considerably. Anglo-American critics have argued that Rammstein is primarily concerned with visual performance – for instance, when it comes to their shows or their music videos. The emphasis here is on nationalistic imagery and symbolism (cf. Burns, 2008: pp.  457–472). In contrast, musicologists and other cultural critics writing in German have, for the most part, largely avoided this dimension due to the strong emphasis in several fields on songs (cf. Elflein, 2015). In a media-oriented paper I have emphasized the relationship between Rammstein’s mediality and performativity (cf. Binas-Preisendörfer, 2011: pp. 131–146), as I am convinced that their international success is largely due to their multimedial stage performances and designs in the tradition of circus-like forms of popular entertainment and the band’s sound concept. The roots of band members in the German Democratic Republic and the related aesthetic experiences and frames of cultural and media behaviour are also important issue for scholars primarily working on Rammstein in a German-language context (cf. Binas, 2000: pp.  26–41; Binas-Preisendörfer, 2001: pp.  61–82). Somewhat surprisingly, these issues, which have also been addressed by journalists in Germanlanguage contexts, are rarely ever dealt with in an international context.2 The musical-cultural socialization of the members of Rammstein in the GDR plays, however, an important role (see Wicke in this book). These distinct roots and the examination of these roots by journalists will be investigated in this essay. It is important to note here that this kind of topic in particular and Rammstein in general are not obvious choices for musicologists, especially those working in a German-language context. There are hardly any reflections by academics on Rammstein; pop critics give it a wide berth (cf. Diederichsen, 2014). There is no entry in the German-speaking ‘Song Encyclopedia of the Popular Music and Culture’ archive yet (cf. Fischer, Hörner & Jost, 2015). At conferences, academics from the East and the West, from South America and the U.S.A. are glad when they can finally openly talk about their sonic admiration for Rammstein, usually at the end of the official program. As expected, print publications commented especially on the case of ‘Liebe ist für alle da’ when the album was added to the index in 2009 and when this decision was reversed in 2010. For this reason, this period also figures prominently in this essay. The texts considered here are not the musical or visual artefacts created by Rammstein, but the writings and decisions about them. Music journalism is an important dimension of the complex processes in the music industry. Journalists working in this field categorize, evaluate, and write for specific magazines, seeking to address the expectations of readers. At the same time, they want or must generate attention for their texts. Today, these journalists have, among other things, to navigate a media landscape characterized by fierce competition and market pressure either as or in direct competition with bloggers, marketing

160  Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer, Arne Wachtmann experts of the bands and their labels, and social media agencies on the Internet. Journalists are situated in a network of pop culture agents; as judges and consultants, they make decisions and are praised as gatekeepers of artistic and commercial careers by artists and agents.

The tasks of the Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors (BPjM) Decisions by courts and, in Germany, by the BPjM also affect the music industry. If a media production, band, or musician is already banned by the court, then censorship does not effectively take place in the Federal Republic of Germany.3 This may have considerable consequences for artists, as it is not possible for them to make a profit. In economic terms, the value creation process is interrupted. The song texts, statements, and symbols of radical right-wing bands can, for example, easily be found on the Internet. These bands, however, have not been allowed to perform on stage, and they therefore do not have access to an important source of income for musicians. There is, however, evidence that decisions such as adding productions to the index can have the opposite effect because they may draw the attention of audiences associated with subcultures, and, in fact, these kinds of decisions may then even increase the demand for albums, games, or bands that have been listed by the BPjM. It therefore comes as no surprise that evaluations by the BPjM have been used to market music. The BPjM does not identify albums or artists in order to evaluate them; the police or schools, for example, can propose or support an investigation (cf. Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors). These investigations can, however, only begin when they are requested by government agencies charged with protecting the young (e.g. the Federal Ministry of Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Youth, the Commission for the Protection of Youth in the Media, the State Departments for Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Youth). The Youth Protection Act lists three main causes for harmful effects on minors: first, texts that incite violence, that lead to an indifference toward the law, or that contain positive representations of drug abuse; second, xenophobic and racist statements; and, third, the degradation of women to sexual objects (Fischer, Hörner & Jost, 2015). As outlined in §18 part 1 of the Youth Protection Act, data and tele media that may jeopardize the development and education of children and adolescents to become responsible and socially competent personalities must be added to a list of media by the Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors. In the case of Rammstein’s ‘Ich tu Dir weh’ (I Am Hurting You), the BPjM chose to add this song to the list because of its positive representations of sadomasochistic practices and because it decided that protecting the young took precedence over artistic freedom, which is a constitutional right. As explained above, the court in Cologne reversed the decision by the BPjM and argued that people buying albums by Rammstein would know how to read and interpret Rammstein’s texts, codes, and images (cf. Administrative Court Cologne, 2011).

Rammstein under observation  161

Journalistic reactions When the BPjM added Rammstein’s album ‘Liebe ist für alle da’ to the index, the unnamed journalists writing for the German newspaper Die Welt on November 6 were not all that surprised: ‘It was bound to happen’. As suggested by this short report, ‘[t]he government agency accuses the band of promoting distinct sexual practices’ (Die Welt, 2009). In an interview printed in the weekly Bild am Sonntag, Rammstein’s keyboard player Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz was asked whether he thought that a seventeen-year-old truly has the mental capacity, especially for reflection, expected of a Rammstein fan. Lorenz answered this question as follows: ‘How stupid do you think our fans are? Or are you seriously of the opinion that someone regards it [the song ‘Ich tu dir weh’] as a call to go a hardware store, to buy barbed wire, and to pull it through the urinary tract of a woman? Every human with a minimum of reason and reflectivity should be expected to understand it correctly in relation to music and art’ (Seidl, 2009). In contrast, the newspaper Berliner Morgenpost suggested, ‘Rammstein’s records and videos [. . .] are only created so that simple-minded people could be turned on’, and it ridiculed the fact that Lorenz was consternated by the decision by the BPjM. This newspaper article also included the following comparison by Lorenz: ‘If freedom of opinion in the Federal Republic of Germany means that Nazis are allowed to scream “foreigners out” without being punished and our records are withdrawn from circulation [. . .], it means that we did not progress any further’. Matthias Heine (2009), writing on behalf of the Berliner Morgenpost, responded to this comparison as follows: ‘The only comparison that can be drawn to the GDR is this: It is as boring as the life of a sallow-faced little man, who sorts, for decades, Stasi documents from one shelf to the other in a windowless archive room of a grey city’. As some of the examples given above indicate, music journalists writing for daily and national newspapers hardly had a good word to say about Rammstein in the fall of 2009. These journalist described Rammstein’s audience as an either simple-minded or energetic crowd with the hyperbole: ‘Like the battle cries of indigenous tribes, waiting in front of the monster’s black grotto to fight the final battle. The longer the beast keeps them waiting, the higher the tension. Down there in front of the stage – doesn’t it resemble a pentagram of candles? No, these are the displays of digital cameras, the torches of our century. Bassist and guitarist clear the way with axes, and from the center, similar to a big, burning vagina, strides the greatest fear of the BPjM: Rammstein frontman Till Lindemann [. . .]’(Reichelt, 2009). As Kolja Reichert put it in Tagespiegel, Rammstein is ‘a monster from the heart of society’ (Reichert, 2009). However, the audience is, at least in Reichert’s account, ‘surprisingly ordinary’, and the average age of attendees astonishingly high. Mainly males wearing bomber jackets meet ‘hoary teacher coup’ (Reichert, 2009). In May 2010, Jens Balzer, writing for the Berliner Zeitung, likewise commented on the audience at a Rammstein show: ‘When these not so young couples were standing arm in arm in front of the setting sun, and “Bück dich” was displayed on the man’s chest [. . .], then interesting pictures arose’.

162  Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer, Arne Wachtmann Other accounts by journalists also contain powerful images, designations, and descriptions: East Berlin brachial rockers, bad boys, ugly Germans, scrumming guitars, abysmal singing, flak headlights, barbed wire tortures, all kinds of love, including the devious ones, spring in Paris, seismographer of social conditions, heat waves, a part about the art in the reunited Germany, from socialist realism to Joseph Goebbels, fine line separating the freedom of art from the protection of the youth. These examples from accounts by journalists given above are surprisingly poetic, as if they want to compete with Till Lindemann’s lyrics. One could argue that these accounts by journalists, then, are (just like songs by Rammstein) accounts of transgressive experiences, first-hand accounts of not only having seen the pyrotechnics used in a Rammstein show, but also of having played with fire. This impression is likewise created by references, often found in accounts of Rammstein, to the sources of the band: a vodka-based mixed drink, original GDR ‘machine oil’. In 2013, Jens Balzer called the musicians of Rammstein ‘sympathetic super stars from East Berlin’ (Reichert, 2009), whereas in 2007, he had recommended an exclusive Christmas offer for all Rammstein fans in a very ironic manner: ‘a Rammstein pill, whose ingestion makes you look as glassy as Till Lindemann and automatically evokes you to grunt German nationalist nonsense with your tongue hanging out obliquely’ (Balzer, 2007). Trying to respond, Jens-Christian Rabe asks in the feuilleton of the Süddeutsche Zeitung, ‘Why should Rammstein simply be ignored?’ (Rabe, 2009) while indicating that today’s ‘pop defenders’ have to concern themselves with ‘songs of a third-class German puberty band’ in the censorship of its explicitly sexual provocations. Only a few years later, the attitude of journalists concerning Rammstein seems to have changed completely. For example, in Süddeutsche Zeitung in 2012, there is no longer any negative mention of the band’s lyrics or show. Rammstein is portrayed as misunderstood and as the most significant cultural export of Germany to date. The authors of the article seem infatuated with the show and describe it as follows: ‘Cirque du Soleil minus escapism [. . .] Berghain plus lyrics [. . .] but Rammstein knows when to burn and when not to burn, when a show should be a dream and when it should be a nightmare. It arose in the minds of story tellers [. . .] not in those of event management honks’ (Gorkow, 2012). The contribution by Alexander Gorkow also includes other statements that indicate how dramatically the receptions of the band by journalists have changed since 2009. For example, Gorkow writes that ‘there was this horde of men, enjoying the grand opera and the conceptual rock music, who were skilled in Jazz, blues, and classical music but so enraged that West-German Punk was regarded as dangerous as a not well attended Easter march in drizzling rain’ (Gorkow, 2012). Guitarist Paul Landers, who, just like ‘Flake’ Lorenz, was a former member of the East Berlin punk band Feeling B, is quoted as follows: ‘The motivation was always essential: Making trouble. That is how it is and always will be’ (Gorkow, 2012). This sentiment is echoed in an article on Spiegel Online, in which Lorenz is quoted as follows: ‘Except for us, no one wants to be bad. That is why we take

Rammstein under observation  163 care of it’ (Winkler, 2009). Gorkow explains this attitude by linking it to the ‘anger of the children of the educated classes’, aesthetical experiences and cultural patterns, which are practiced in families in which the parents were opera directors, authors of children’s books, philosophers, and Slavists: intensive training fields when dealing with ciphers, codes, and productions. For every artist in the GDR, the creation and understanding of subtexts belonged to the tools of artistic practice. In a review of a Rammstein concert published in 2010, Ophelia Abeler, a cultural critic writing for the New York bureau of the newspaper taz, writes that singer and texter Till Lindemann ‘[a]lways looks like a creature that is locked in itself, threshing at its imprisonment, its body, from the outside. [. . .] When he wears big, burning wings to the song “Engel”, then he will look like Benjamin’s Angel of History looking back in consternation at the gross negligence of the pictures, which are piled up by Rammstein in the course of a concert’ (Abeler, 2010). Abeler’s reading of Rammstein and the other examples provided above suggest the increasing sophistication and greater appreciation that can be observed in more recent journalistic takes on Rammstein. One could argue that in the case of Abeler’s article in particular, the educational level of journalists and Rammstein meet. As a historical and philosophical text, Walter Benjamin’s Angel of History (1940) and Paul Klee’s Angelus Novus (1920) were unlikely to be included in the curricula of polytechnic secondary schools in the GDR. Tobias Rapp (2009) explains ‘the negligently strong images’ as follows: ‘the freedom initiated by the fall of the Berlin Wall must also be experienced as a problem in the Federal Chancellery by East-German artists. Where there are no prohibitions, there is nothing to chafe at. [. . .] Rammstein [. . .] retrieved a successful business model from the perceived ineffectiveness of the cultural rebellion in capitalism’ (p. 120). In the words of Michael Pilz (2009), which were printed in the Berliner Morgenpost, Lorenz and Landers ‘arrived at a plan in 1994 describing how to live happily in the West without actually arriving there’.

Discourse and dissent There is no room for an in-depth discourse analysis of the journalistic statements mentioned above, but many of the terms included in journalistic texts covering the events in 2009 could be assigned to one of the following categories: morality; sexuality; origin, socialization; educational level, age, behavior, and gender ratio of the audience; business model. In the aftermath of the decision by the BPjM, the representations of Rammstein by journalists are very similar and, for the most part, negative. These accounts essentially echo the arguments provided by the committee of the BPjM, which suggested that the album in general and the song in particular represented ‘a positively connoted conflation of sexuality and violence’ (Federal Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors). In their coverage of the court case in Cologne, even the journalists seemed inclined to give Rammstein the benefit of the doubt and supported the ruling ‘in favour of artistic freedom’ (Pilz, 2009). Depending on the length of the contributions and the kind of print medium, responses by journalists expand on different categories for explanations.

164  Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer, Arne Wachtmann Journalists have to attract attention, and for this reason, they may focus on dimensions that, even if they are not crucial, may achieve this effect. In this respect, it is quite telling what journalists emphasized in their accounts. Descriptions of audience were a common element, as were repetitions of the keyword-term ‘breach of taboos’. It is certainly appropriate and, at times, even expected for journalists to offer their distinct personal observations. Using tropes such as noisy crowds, primal screams, bomber jackets, or alcohol seem to be a very effective way of suggesting negative value judgements of audiences of specific forms of popular music. They actually became a cliché of the minor’s impairment in a manner that could not be redeemed by the media impact research (cf. Glogauer, 1991) for decades. Diedrich Diederichsen argued quite rightly that whenever killing sprees happen in the world, some journalists writing for German daily newspapers become popular music and culture experts and reveal themselves as interpreters of pop culture signs (cf. Diederichsen, 1999b). That they are overburdened by that, says Diederichsen, is one side of the coin; that they themselves become constructors of meanings is the other: ‘Ambivalent experiences and particularly their suspicious, aggressive component, the “fear of the youth,” has been projected onto challenging (often simply not known) developments, their actors and fans since the implementation of modern popular cultures in the late nineteenth century. Because adults in a given society are concerned about the kind of knowledge acquired by the young, as the elderly would like to shape youth in their own image, and as commercial, market-oriented, publicly available mass culture offerings must inevitably appear like a problem from this perspective, the popular is faced with generic suspicion’ (Maase, 2014: p. 119). Audiences of Rammstein – obviously no longer or not only young – attend concerts or buy albums coming from a world presumed to be no good. This contribution should definitely not question the importance and decisions by the BPjM, but it argues that it is important to situate this kind of evaluation of a band in a wider discourse; in this case a journalistic one, because journalism, in our point of view, contributes to the self-enlightenment of modern societies.

Notes 1 ‘Herzeleid’ (1995), ‘Sehnsucht’ (1997), ‘Mutter’ (2001), ‘Reise, Reise’ (2004), ‘Rosenrot’ (2005), ‘Liebe ist für alle da’ (2009). 2 An exception is Edward Larkey’s contribution ‘Just for Fun? Language Choice in German Popular Music’ (2010: pp. 1–20). Edward Larkey completed his dissertation on cultural and political reception of American rock music in the GDR at Humboldt University in Berlin in the 1980s. In 2007, he published an extensive study on the influence of the radio system in the GDR, and its importance for popular music. 3 As guaranteed in Article 5 of the Basic Law, ‘Everyone has the right to express and distribute his opinion in word, writing or picture (. . .). Censorship will not take place’.

19 Rap music in Germany Ayla Güler Saied

Historical backspin The term ‘hip-hop’ refers to a street art culture which is popular worldwide but has its roots in black (and Latino) culture in the USA. Hip-hop is generally taken to comprise four central elements: DJing, B-boying/girling (hip-hop dancers),1 graffiti and rap.2 At the beginning hip-hop was a lived and practised culture; there were no finished hip-hop rules to rely on. Therefore, in hip-hop everything is possible, as hip-hop is like an umbrella (organisation) for all marginalised (black) cultures, bringing them together with established mainstream popular music cultures through using samples or making covers of other artists’ songs. Hip-hop emerged in the early 1970s in the decaying ghettos of Harlem and the Bronx in New York City (Rose, 1994). It was the first all-embracing black culture that emerged in the post-segregation era in the USA3 and it unified many cultural forms of black expression and enabled self-authorisation for the underserved inhabitants of neglected urban spaces. Afrika Bambaataa was one of the pioneers of hip-hop and founder of the Universal Zulu Nation (a hip-hop awareness organization). Bambaataa utilized the competitive and combative character of hip-hop – rap and dance battles, for example – to fight gang activity, sublimating gang violence into artistic rivalry and transforming gang structures into hiphop ‘crews’. This was a political act that revived the ideals of the Black Panther Party through artistic activity and expressions. The positive power of hip-hop in embodying these ideals – of protecting and standing by each other – were asserted by Bambaataa in the song ‘Peace, Unity, Love and Having Fun’, a collaboration with soul legend James Brown that debuted in 1984.

The beginnings of hip-hop in Germany The transformative vigour of hip-hop culture meant it soon transcended its specifically American contexts, its African-American cultural forms setting out on a global trip during which they have been absorbed, variously decoded, and reused by many societies and cultures – especially those that are oppressed or marginalised. Hip-hop reached Germany in 1982/83 and had a powerful impact on contemporary youth. It was the first (youth) culture in Germany that was broadly

166  Ayla Güler Saied inclusive and allowed any or all young people to participate, regardless of their social, ethnic or economic background. Hip-hop was also the first culture in which young people with a migration background had a leading position and could express themselves to a wider audience. Although hip-hop quickly gained fans in Germany, for aspiring performers and practitioners, it was not always obvious how to go about becoming hip-hop artists. Fans were highly enthusiastic about developing the skills to excel in b-dancing, graffiti or DJing, but initially there were few role models in Germany to teach them how to DJ, paint graffiti or break dance. Movies like ‘Beat Street’ and ‘Wild Style’ were often the only sources where they could access information about hip-hop culture.

The development of rap music Although rap music is probably the most visible aspect of hip-hop culture, it was in fact the last element of hip-hop culture to evolve – only becoming established about a decade after hip-hop’s beginnings in block parties centred on DJing and dancing.4 Rap is a rhythmic spoken-word performance, which fits well with the beat-oriented music of hip-hop, and which combines sophisticated rhyming language with diverse forms of storytelling. Rap has developed from small verses interpolated into longer musical pieces into a complex storytelling instrument. Rap may have become the predominant synecdoche for overall hip-hop culture because of this sophistication – it is a lyrical form well fitted to explicit and detailed cultural expression – but the rapper is also the most obvious front man (or woman) during a hip-hop performance – and, indeed, rappers are often referred to as MCs. Rap music gained a special popularity in Germany during the ‘golden age’ of hip-hop (in the late 1980s/1990s), spearheaded by crews like NWA, Public Enemy and Run DMC. Fans in Germany adapted rap music to their own lives and realities. The first German rap songs were imitations of US rap artists, but all had one thing in common: German rap was inspired by a combination of the musical aspect of American rap and by the attitude of hip-hop artists. Part of this attitude was an emphasis on self-expression. In the early 1990s, German rappers began creating their own songs in their own languages: both in German and in the languages which the children of immigrants and migrant workers spoke at home with their families. In fact, however, just like in America, rap was often a later evolution of hip-hop culture in Germany (and other countries). Kutlu, a member of the Cologne-based hip-hop crew Microphone Mafia, remembers how he got into hip-hop: And at some point around 1987 I came in contact with Hip-Hop culture for the first time. I don’t say Rap, because I have absolutely nothing to do with rapping. It was more about breakdance, especially breakdance music. Because that was one of the first things that came from the States to Europe. I’ve always believed that dancing comes before making music yourself. (Güler Saied, 2013a: p. 234)

Rap music in Germany  167 Nevertheless, as in all the other countries where hip-hop was adapted, MCing (rapping) was soon the most visible and successful element of hip-hop culture. This was not only because of the MC’s function as front man or woman, or because a rap can be a very memorable vehicle for a message, but also because technological innovations, such as computer-based and created beats, the DJ retreated more and more into the background. DJ Ra, who has been a DJ since 1983, describes the difference between being a DJ and being a rapper: Rappers are always in the front line because they are the ones who pass on the message, I think. Didn’t the DJs accomplish anything?! A DJ is like that extra something. (Güler Saied, 2013b: p. 180) Scope, an early hip-hop pioneer and later a TV presenter for ‘VIVA Freestyle’, remembers how unattainable a DJ set was in the early 1980s, even for a well-to-do, white, middle class German kid: And then I started to get technical equipment, totally basic and started to cut random beats together with an ordinary cassette recorder. Stuff like that. Because to buy a sampler was unthinkable, that would have been as expensive as a Mercedes Benz. (Güler Saied, 2013a: p. 230) Scope (’s narration) illustrates that hip-hop always had a connecting force. Fans from all ethnic and social backgrounds were part of the hip-hop culture in Germany. The financial recourses didn’t matter, because the most important criterion to participate in hip-hop was to have the skills.

Gangster rap and controversial social discourses Gangster rap is a form of American rap that was both very successful and very notorious. Gangster rap has also had a significant influence in Germany, so a short excursus about the rise of American gangster rap is merited. Many social scientists are not only quick to generalize about the black urban poor on the basis of a few “representative” examples, but more often than not, they do not let the native speak. A major part of the problem is the way in which many mainstream social scientists studying the underclass define culture. Relying on a narrowly conceived definition of culture, most of the literature uses behavior and culture interchangeably. (Kelley, 2004: p. 119f.) Gangster rap is rap music whose lyrical content centres on the notion of the gangster – gangster rappers are (or pose as) gang members and rap about the concerns, ambitions and activities of gangsters in African-American ghettoes of US cities.

168  Ayla Güler Saied The form gained prominence in the early 1990s, especially on the West Coast of the United States, although Gangster rap had already emerged in the mid-1980s. Ice T’s song ‘Cop Killer’, released in 1992, boosted hip-hop’s reception – and notoriety – in mainstream (white) American media. Gangster rap transported the reality of gangster life into the consciousness of people living outside the ghetto. It had deep political meaning, compelling its audience to listen to what was happening in the ghettos and how the black community, especially young black men, were treated by society, especially the police. On the other hand, this political meaning was often received as threatening by more prosperous communities. In gangster rap, the rapper does not rap in the third-person about being a gangster; rather he (or more rarely she) raps in character as a gangster. Thus, it is easy for others to see the gangster rapper as a criminal (and racial) menace, his raps as explicit threats. Nonetheless – or perhaps because of its taboo excitement – gangster rap is the genre of hip-hop culture that has had the most commercial success. It is a controversial reality, one that hip-hop culture has been witnessing for more than four decades. German rappers absorbed Gangster rap and created a corresponding German form, which then met with a similar reception. A commercially successful Gangster rap scene grew up in Germany in the early 2000s but at the same time that the rappers described the realities of life for those who were marginal parts of German society, society as a whole tended to externalize problems such as discrimination and ascribe them to Gangster rappers, most of whom came from immigrant families. In truth, elements of the rappers’ lyrics often aided this type of externalization, with MCs like Bushido, Sido, Kool Savas, Bass Sultan Hengst gaining prominence not because of their artistic skills or social expression/commentary, but for their explicit lyrics that include homophobia, misogyny, sexism and racism. There are counter currents: Lady Bitch Ray, a female MC (herself of Turkish descent) whose lyrics are explicitly sexual and often mocking of men or male attitudes, is one voice that has answered back to the male-dominated Gangster rap scene (see Eismann in this book), while Schwesta Ewa – a former prostitute – has published a mixtape ‘Realität’ (Reality) (2012), keeping the vitality of hip-hop alive and preventing it from succumbing to some of its own stereotypes.

Rap marketing For most MCs in Germany, rap is just a hobby. Only a few hip-hop artists, like Die Fantastischen Vier or Bushido, make a living exclusively by performing and selling records. Production practices in hip-hop have changed over recent years, and fewer and fewer crews still include a DJ. As a result, ‘sound masters’ and producers are becoming ever more important. For example, Ben Bazzazian, a Cologne-based producer, has developed a big name in the music scene for producing perfect beats, not just for hip-hop artists, but also for the world famous reggae artist Gentleman. In 2014 Bazzazian won the ‘hip-hop.de’ award in the category ‘best national producer’. Bazzazian’s rap clients include artists like Haftbefehl, Eko Fresh and Azad. In the rap business, a good beat is still crucial for the success of a song, and

Rap music in Germany  169 producers such as Bazzazian provide the beats. Another big change recently has been the impact of the Internet, which provides an outlet even for musicians and MCs who cannot pursue music as a professional career. Offering near unlimited opportunities for MCs to publish their music, the Internet has become the new major label. Bazzazian describes the possibilities that the Internet offers for artists and producers and how the Internet changed the cooperation: Well, nowadays everything is totally different. When I started to really make music, there was no Internet, nobody had that at home. Burning CDs just started. That was around ‘99. But that’s really like sixteen years ago. These days you have completely new possibilities: you can go on Youtube and write: How do I  make a beat? and then there are about 1000 people who can explain that to you. Back then it was different. You had to do it yourself, like ‘learning by doing’. Just do it, you make mistakes, but that’s the way it worked. These days there’s the Internet, you can send everything from here to there. For a song somebody recorded saxophone in Jamaica, I can’t just go there and or just get him here. For things like that the Internet is really cool, but of course it’s also cool to do it together, with the people. (Interview by Güler Saied, 2015) Bazzazian points out that German producers are underrepresented in the media. He calls for greater public recognition: In the US the producers are there. Even if they are not visible. I want simply that people recognize what a producer achieves. Let me put it this way: 80% of the rappers don’t have a clue about music. Its different with musicians, but most of the rappers don’t have a clue about music. (Güler Saied, 2015: p. 114)

She’s really good, for a girl! Female MCs have always had an important position in hip-hop culture. Cora E., the first female MC in Germany, for example, connected the German with the New York hip-hop scene in the 1980s. Nevertheless, MCing is seen as a male phenomenon. As in all social and political spaces, women in hip-hop tend to be marginalised and often have to face sexism. There are different reasons for a woman to be an MC, but one main motivation is that women want to talk about the female point of view – not just in hip-hop, but also in everyday life. Hip-hop culture is a mirror for gender and social injustice in a particular way. MC Sinaya is a Berlin based b-girl and MC with Too Funk Sistaz. Her description of women’s marginalisation provides a wide perspective on gender inequality: And the whole battle you have to fight. I started breakdancing and I was actually the only woman doing it. And later on I did technical training in audio engineering and out of twenty-three men there were only two women. And

170  Ayla Güler Saied now I study Computer Science and there are eighty people and only five of them are women. I have no idea why I always choose this kind of path, but now I feel comfortable in this role. Before it was really exhausting, but now it’s fine! (Güler Saied, 2013a: p. 260)

The power behind hip-hop Despite the marginalization of women in hip-hop culture, or the accusations of racism or homophobia sometimes levelled at Gangster rappers, the power that still drives hip-hop, as it has from the beginning, is the possibility of selfexpression, cultural assertion and inclusivity. To close this essay, here are some German hip-hop voices meditating on the meaning of hip-hop for them. Akua Naru is a New York based MC. In 2008 she moved to Cologne and started an international career: I’m a poet. So what I feel is missing from the music is the poetic quality. And I came away with something and I try to put that in my music. I just, I write poetry. I write about love, about political things, because I’m pretty interested in politics, in social justice, so I write about god, I mean I’m also a spiritual person. (Güler-Saied, 2013a: p. 263) David, the manager of the Cologne-based crew Komekate, feels like, with hiphop, he has finally found his home: Music simply made me be at the right time at the right place, not at the wrong place at the wrong time. (Güler-Saied, 2013a: p. 275) MC Soom T, a female rap and dubstep artist from Glasgow, Scotland, describes the power of music as a connecting and empowering force. She lived in Germany for a while and worked together with the Leipzig-based DJ Disrupt, a Dubstep DJ: And I think even if you are a minority group if you are willing to also share other cultures, then you no longer feel like a minority. (Güler-Saied, 2013a: p. 247) Hip-hop offers the possibility of sharing different cultures, because hip-hop is a conglomeration of subversive forms of expression and offers a stage for selfauthorisation beyond hegemonic discourses. Rap is more than just words that rhyme. Hip-hop culture has always been a pioneer of a globally oriented lifestyle. Therefore, hip-hop and especially rap music is a subversive cultural, social and economic force in the worldwide musical landscape.

Rap music in Germany 171

Notes 1 B-boys and b-girls are ‘break dancers’ or ‘b-dancers’. The term ‘break dance’ originates with hip-hop DJs extending the instrumental, beat-oriented breaks in songs to facilitate dancing. 2 These four elements correspond to four cultural axes in hip-hop: the aural or musical (DJing), the physical (dance), the visual (graffiti), and the oral or lyrical (rap). 3 Legally enforceable housing segregation was eliminated in the USA during the 1960s, while desegregation in education followed the Brown v. Board of Education ruling in 1954. 4 ‘Rapper’s Delight’, put out by the Sugar Hill Gang in 1979, is often cited as the first rap song – at least, the first to gain mainstream awareness.

20 ‘Heulsusen-pop’ New male sensitivity in German independent music Maren Volkmann

Since the mid-nineties, bands like Tocotronic and Tomte have become established on the German independent music scene. In contrast to the notably ‘hard’ image of other German-speaking bands – especially from genres like ‘Neue Deutsche Härte’ (e.g. Rammstein, Laibach) – these musicians have represented their music as sensitive, emotional, soft, and even whiny – attributes that are in German linked to the word ‘Heulsuse’ (cry-baby). In gender terms, these ‘Heulsuse’ bands seem to deliberately deconstruct the traditional image of the male rock musician. In this essay, Tocotronic is shown as one example; also other – and even older – bands of the so-called ‘Hamburger Schule’ (Hamburg School) could be attributed as Heulsuse bands (see Huber in this book). Uhlmann’s band Tomte and his later band Thees Uhlmann stand in the same tradition, too. The (international) independent music scene (guitar-based, post-punk bands) is closely linked to traditional rock music and can be considered a descendant or derivative of rock, which had its heyday in the 60s and 70s. Central themes of such traditional rock music are sexuality, gender, and how male and female persons should or should not behave, and so indie musicians also negotiate gender roles – through their lyrics, live performances, statements in interviews, styles of dress, and other representations (cf. Frith & McRobbie, 1990: pp. 371–389). In this essay, I will focus on the gender negotiations of Heulsuse bands, using the book ‘Wir könnten Freunde werden. Die Tocotronic-Tourtagebücher’ (We Could Be Friends. The Tocotronic Diaries) as a basis. This book is a memoir by Thees Uhlmann (2000: pp. 226–242), singer and guitarist of Tomte, of his travels with Tocotronic as a roadie and guitar technician for the tour of their album ‘K.O.O.K.’ in 1999. This tour diary stands in the tradition of English-language tour diaries like Henry Rollins’ ‘Get in the Van’ (1994), which deals with the touring life of his band Black Flag between 1981 and 1986. The intimacy promised by the diary form, the first-person perspective, and the record of events, personal relations, and contexts provide a wonderful qualitative basis for analyzing how gender is constructed in the indie music scene. Although the diary form claims that the occurrences told in the text are realistic, the author decides what he tells the readers – what he focuses on and what he keeps a secret. By this he constructs his own set of values. Therefore the analysis assumes that the text is not fictional, but it is not a mimesis of the real world either. As this essay will suggest, within the indie music

‘Heulsusen-pop’  173 scene there seems to be an understanding of what masculinity and femininity are all about that genuinely differs from the understanding of this topic in the rock music scene.

Identity by distinction One of the core ways that identity can be established is through distinction. Thus, musicians, by distancing themselves from other music genres or scenes and their rituals, can make clear who they are – simply by negation. Musicians, as expressive artists, can be more and less explicit about such distinctions: implying them, articulating them frankly and explicitly, or expressing them by means of irony (cf. Cohen, 2001: pp. 226–242). In this regard, one of the clearest identity claims in Uhlmann’s tour diary is that Tocotronic do not belong to what he calls the ‘rockbizzzzz’ (Uhlmann, 2000: p.  14), portraying this rock business as a veritable bogeyman. This bogeyman is easily recognizable by the roughness or aggression and by the sexism of its rituals; rituals played out by bands who are delivered to brothels for hours at a time while on tour, media people who are always on the prowl for new bands to exploit, groupies who chase after so-called supergroups, security personnel that abuse their authority, and even stage-divers who care nothing for the safety of the uninvolved spectators they injure. Caricaturing all this, and the sometime association of rock music with Satanism, the members of Tocotronic sign autographs of pentagrams with ‘Satan rejected my soul’ (Uhlmann, 2000: p.  35). The Tocotronic stance is clear: they ironically distance themselves from the common meaning of Satanism in the sense of being evil, dangerous, and virile (often used by metal bands) because they endorse a different set of values. What Tocotronic and Uhlmann most dislike about traditional rock music are the power relations embodied by it: e.g. musicians vs. groupies (‘groupies of supergroups who are just waiting for the tour manager to send them upstairs to the idiots’, Uhlmann, p. 13) or security personnel vs. fans (‘problems about the security personnel that lets nobody get anywhere because they are so dead keen on their authority with the result that they want to exercise it on everybody’, Uhlmann, 2000: p. 54). They refuse to idolize musicians and instead emphasize the music itself as an intense experience detached from any power relation. Uhlmann’s diary offers repeated examples of how they dissociate themselves from persons who degrade others because of their power – his clear discussion of these topics in the book itself both reporting and performing this stance again. An example of how Tocotronic stand apart from the ‘rock biz’ is when they are asked by journalists at Germany’s biggest rock festival ‘Rock am Ring’ if Lieberberg, the local promoter, has already arranged prostitutes for the band. Their reaction is incomprehension and embarrassment (cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p. 17). When Uhlmann allows two girls to come backstage, he is cheered on by two male onlookers who think the women are groupies (Uhlmann, 2000: p. 125f.). Uhlmann reports that he is annoyed by this kind of reaction because he is not in fact enacting the cultural

174  Maren Volkmann convention in rock music that women are sexually available groupies treated abusively by musicians, and rather wishes to disown exactly such power relations. This is a recurring theme of the book that the members of Tocotronic and Uhlmann dissociated themselves from typical rituals associated with rock music and are often quite upset when others assume that they do operate in traditional terms. In rejecting traditional rock identities, Tocotronic and Uhlmann reject unbalanced power relations and inequality. More specifically, they are also rejecting a model of masculinity that is offered by rock music itself, but which is also expressed by rock because it is prevalent in society. This identity relates masculinity to power, and therefore especially degrades women. Tocotronic and Uhlmann seek an alternative identity, which appreciates equality between women and men, musicians and fans, security personnel and spectators (‘A love to the people, a love to the music’ Uhlmann, 2000: p. 141).

Staging of powerlessness Much of rock music is concerned with gaining or having power and with objectifying others. This is clear in rock lyrics, which often valorize the energies or aggression of the singer and objectify women as the targets of such ‘male vigor’ (Frith & McRobbie, 1990: pp. 371–389). The performativity of rock music also emphasizes the same ‘will to power’ – the exaggerated virtuosity of a lead guitarist hammered home by ridiculously long solos, for instance (cf. Gottlieb & Wald, 1994: pp.  250–274). Tocotronic’s and Uhlmann’s refusal of such power games entails their staging themselves in terms of powerlessness with regard to their musical skills and masculinity. But this derogation from power being conscious and intentional means their powerlessness is also positively charged. Regarding their musical skills, Tocotronic not only do not mind but also actually embrace amateurish non-virtuosity. As just alluded to, there is a tradition in rock music of the virtuoso, demonstrated in guitar solos, drums solos, singers stretching their voices across huge ranges, and so on. Rock musicians gain power from their virtuosity – but Tocotronic is indifferent to all that. Uhlmann’s presence on tour is emblematic of this, for he is employed as a guitar tech even though his own guitars are known for never being in tune (cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p. 4). However, Uhlmann has other virtues – primarily, he is a good friend of Tocotronic, and this friendship is why he accompanies the band on tour. It would be strange to suggest that there is no place for friendship in traditional rock, but Uhlmann tells a story that presents indie rock as having other rules than in rock music, and one of those rules is that you do not need to be a facilely skilful professional, but you do have to be a good guy who is really dedicated. This attitude clearly refers to the method of ‘do it yourself’ (DIY), which was originated in the punk rock scene of the 70s. In music contexts DIY distances itself from any professional attempt of making music. ‘Mainstream’ record companies as well as the concept of fans as passive consumers are declined. The deliberate, positive embrace of ‘powerlessness’ is also shown in a story where Uhlmann accepts the label of Heulsuse for himself, rejecting the image of

‘Heulsusen-pop’ 175 the rough rock musician and presenting a new sensitivity in German music. On one occasion, while driving the tour bus, he listens to the songs ‘Chelsea Hotel’ by Leonard Cohen, and ‘Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together’ by Morrissey, and his eyes fill with tears. When Morrissey sings ‘Angel, Don’t Take Your Love’, Uhlmann is deeply touched by this line and drives to the next lay-by, where he goes outside to cry. When he comes back, somebody calls him Heulsuse, but in a well-meant way, and everybody starts laughing companionably (cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p. 102f.). Thus the conventions of male behaviour (e.g. men do not cry, men have to be strong) are deconstructed: Uhlmann behaves outside these norms yet receives approbation and friendship. Instead of seeing his emotional outburst as a weakness, everybody feels with Uhlmann and can comprehend his feelings. Not only is Uhlmann’s behaviour not seen as weakness, it actually generates a positive collectivity among men. In traditional rock music discourse (at times of bands like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and Uriah Heep), people like Uhlmann and Tocotronic would be labelled as ‘losers’. They do not have power, they cannot play their instruments properly, and they are sensitive, emotional, and whiny. Yet in their own indie rock discourse, all these demerits are positively charged. The group compensates the weakness of the individual. Musicians in indie rock are not afraid of crying or showing emotions because they construct gender roles that differ from traditional (rock music) patterns of how men should behave. They create a masculinity that adopts characteristics traditionally seen as feminine. Thus, they deconstruct the opposition between male and female.

Playing within the heterosexual matrix All this deconstruction of male and female oppositions does not mean that the tour recounted in the diary takes place outside what Judith Butler (1991) has called the ‘heterosexual matrix’. Most evidently, the members of Tocotronic and Uhlmann do have girlfriends who visit them on tour. Nevertheless, there are hints at times that the musicians are not complete strangers to homosexual preferences. More accurately, perhaps, not having staked their identities on stark, male characteristics, they are free to appreciate other men more broadly than can more traditional men – other men who are quite casually labelled as ‘beautiful’ reflecting that the notion of attractiveness is no longer reserved exclusively for (objectified) women. Uhlmann describes Sebastian Wehling, author of Spex magazine, as a tall, wonderful man who is always well dressed, has a charming smile, and smells good (cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p. 56). Uhlmann has a pet name for Wehling, his ‘Mr Universe with wit’ (Uhlmann, 2000: p. 56) and hugs him for a long time when they meet. Yet, although Uhlmann's description of this meeting has a homoerotic aspect, it remains clear to the reader that he is just playing within the heterosexual matrix. Such games with sexual orientations appear in the tour diary more than once. Although it is clear that Uhlmann’s own core sexual identity is in the end heterosexual, it is also clear that in indie rock discourse homosexuality is not a taboo issue. In fact, it is quite normal for Uhlmann to share his bed with other men.

176  Maren Volkmann He openly describes joining Jan Müller, bass player of Tocotronic, in bed for sympathy and warmth (Uhlmann, 2000, p. 14). The tour diary even contains a photograph Uhlmann intimately kissing Arne Zank, Tocotronic’s drummer (Uhlmann, 2000: p. 75). The story behind this photograph is that some girls at a show asked the band members if they were gay and Uhlmann and Zank answered by kissing each other (Uhlmann, 2000: p. 76). In this case they imitate another sexual identity to show that they refuse any categorizations and that they tolerate homosexuality. Nevertheless, this ‘performance’ of a homosexual identity is also intended partly just to shock the girls. The kiss between the two men still shocks others because it is exotic, and its being exotic demonstrates that what is banal is heterosexuality, and so indie rock remains within the heterosexual matrix (cf. Kearney, 1997: pp. 207–229). Nevertheless, the mere performance of homosexuality shows indie rock dissociating itself from rock music where sharply defined heterosexuality is the only option.

Male fans and female musicians In rock music discourse, fans traditionally have a binary subordinate relationship to the musicians they are fans of; this is especially the case for women, who are girls and groupies rather than women and fans (cf. Hollows, 2000: pp. 161–188). Such is the opposition of musicians and fans that musicians cannot really be fans, even of other musicians. In indie rock, by contrast, the musician himself can be a passionate fan. In the concrete case of Uhlmann, he is a huge fan of Tocotronic and also adores Modest Mouse, Boxhamsters, and Sleater-Kinney. The whole tour diary can be read as the writing of a fan. Although in fact a close companion of the band, Uhlmann does not mock the fans of Tocotronic, because he can understand them and their rituals, being an actual fan himself. Uhlmann’s fandom of the all-female (and rather feminist) Sleater-Kinney is perhaps particularly telling, as it reveals a man as a fan of women, the opposite of what is even supposed to be possible in more typical rock circles. However, Uhlmann characterizes his own fandom in a complex way: he describes himself as someone who would be called ‘groupie’ if he were a woman – on the one hand, this shows that he is able to adopt a female point of view – but on the other hand this expression of female solidarity does somewhat endorse the idea that being a groupie is for women. To take another example, Uhlmann presents himself as a fan of the popular German music TV host Katja Giglinger, even admitting that he is crazy about her (cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p.  110). When he later bumps into Giglinger’s friend Jessica, he asks Jessica to deliver a record made by him and his band Tomte to Giglinger. But Giglinger never gets in touch with Uhlmann. In itself, there is nothing much that can be said about this incident regarding gender because it is just the story of two relative strangers who end up not connecting on a professional level, although one of them tries to make something happen. But it is Uhlmann’s willingness to discuss this story in his book which allows him to interrogate gender roles and make it a case that deconstructs concepts of masculinity and femininity. He makes a point of telling a story in which he

‘Heulsusen-pop’ 177 casts himself as the groupie, crazy about Giglinger, and emphasizes that he is the passive consumer of her TV show – the female role – and she the one with the power to pay attention to him or not, embodying the traditional male gaze that selects which objects it gives value to by choosing to observe them (cf. JohnsonGrau, 2002: pp. 202–218). This inversion of traditional roles is highlighted by the story’s occurring within the music industry, where traditionally the woman would be the groupie, hanging off of every note produced by Uhlmann, the man and the musician. In fact, for Uhlmann to assume that this is a possibility – that he might count as a ‘rock god’ – is still to operate within the ‘rock matrix’, so to speak. However, this seems to be a recurring theme of his tour diary: a tour diary itself already participates in many of the assumptions of the ‘rock biz’, but Uhlmann’s diary is going to underline these assumptions, and then interrogate them. Nor is Giglinger the only woman portrayed as ‘male’ in this sense in the book. The diary is full of women occupying roles that are not ‘feminine’ in the rock music sense. There are women musicians playing in bands, women driving the tour bus, and women organizing the shows (‘The female organizers are so neat in Oberhausen that the whole band is stoked’, cf. Uhlmann, 2000: p. 90). And these women who work hard also play hard: they drink alcohol and take drugs (‘female hash rebels’, Uhlmann, 2000: p. 83) and engage in the patterns of hedonism supposedly the territory of the male star. Again, Uhlmann may only be reporting details of his world as it is, but in the context of his and Tocotronic’s deliberate performance of gender deconstruction, these details become an explicit statement: femininity is not in fact associated with any essential assumptions. In indie rock women have the possibility to fill gender roles with individual meanings. And men do the same, as Uhlmann’s willing embrace of his crybaby self shows: he rejects power assumptions, but sees this rejection as itself active, positive, and a valid identity.

Conclusion Uhlmann’s book is a tour diary, but it might also be called a gender diary, as it constitutes an overall interrogation of male and female roles in rock music – and rock music is an ideal site for such an interrogation because of how many gender assumptions are not only at play but explicitly expressed in rock culture. Tocotronic and Uhlmann inevitably belong to the (German) culture of the ‘rock biz’, but by dissociating from typical rock music and its rituals, they dissociate from the masculinity established by rock music and they substitute aggression, harshness, and power by non-violence, friendship, and respect between musician and fan. This stance is rendered all the more stark because of its specific rock background. Key motifs in the book are musicianship, fandom, sexuality, and power structures, especially in gender roles. Thus, professionalism and virtuosity are no longer benchmarks for good music, fandom is attributed to men as well as to women, and fans are not fawning worshippers of musicians, homosexuality and/ or the performance of homosexuality is endorsed in indie rock against the strong emphasis on heterosexuality in rock music, and similarly, unequal power relations

178  Maren Volkmann that degrade women as sex objects even within the heterosexual matrix of rock music are uncovered and reflected on so that traditional gender roles can be renegotiated. Tocotronic and Uhlmann do not only dissociate from the power relations in rock music. The dynamics of all this are complex. For example, why is a musician’s refusing to be professionally skilled not a mark of disrespect towards his (or her!) fans? The answer is that indie rock is shambolic on purpose, and this refusal of virtuosity and even professionalism does not reject performance, but rather performs something else, the type of power-gender-sexuality deconstruction that Uhlmann’s tour diary also displays. This is why Uhlmann and Tocotronic are Heulsusen: not because a cry-baby is a ‘loser’, a weak (crying) person who has failed to become a man, but because the cry-baby has a new set of values, who attends to the emotional sphere of music, to passion, dedication, solidarity. ‘Cry-baby’ used to be an insult that impugned the maleness of its target, but these Heulsusen embody a new male sensitivity in German indie rock.

21 From ‘Frauenfest’ to ‘Bitchsm’ Feminist strategies in Germanlanguage popular music from the 1970s until today Sonja Eismann Introduction In Germany, second wave feminism saw, much as in other Western countries at the time, many all-female bands being formed as well as the rapid establishing of female (music) festivals where such bands could perform. Women, who felt their concerns were not properly being listened to in the Student Movement, found that the growing importance of popular culture provided a new arena in which to try out new forms of protest. Performing in a band was one way to vent anger about obdurate patriarchal structures, but also offered the joys of newfound female solidarity and of expressing yourself freely in music and on stage. This essay provides an overview of the history of such feminist embrace of pop culture in Germany (and Austria), from the ‘Frauenfest’ concerts of the 1970s to the provocations of Lady Bitch Ray today.

Backgrounds Germany’s first openly lesbian band, The Flying Lesbians, from West Berlin, were quite clear on the significance of women-only contexts: ‘The evolution of female bands is directly tied to the evolution of female festivals. If we organize our own festivals, we want to express ourselves, to dance to our own music and our own lyrics that mirror our experiences, and not get hammered by chauvinistic rock’. Cillie Rentmeister, keyboard player with the The Flying Lesbians, recalls how, during the first German ‘Frauenfest’ (women’s fest – which Rentmeister had helped organize) held at the Technical University Berlin in April 1974, numerous women from the audience climbed on stage and improvised their own subjective version of the ‘blues’ (cf. Perincioli, 2015: p. 227). This dissolving of the dividing line between active rock stars and passive fans evolved into one of the characteristics of future Frauenfests, during which all women were invited to come to the stage and make free use of the instruments. Rentmeister also remembers vividly how men, who were aggressively trying to get in, had to be prevented from sneaking into this ‘women only’ space (Perincioli, 2015: p. 231). These recollections demonstrate how unusual it was for women at that time to be perceived as

180  Sonja Eismann autonomous rock musicians and how these movements toward emancipation were met with hostility as well as voyeurism by their male contemporaries. Rejecting passivity and becoming autonomous were important themes for feminist musicians in this period. One of the best known feminist bands of the time, folky four-piece Schneewittchen (Snow White) from Hamburg, directed a slightly ironic but no less fiery call-to-arms at their sisters with the song ‘Schneewittchen, zerschlag deinen gläsernern Sarg’ (Snow White, Shatter Your Glassy Coffin) in 1978: ‘Look at you lying there, pale and cold / retch up the poisoned apple / violently push open the coffin lid / do not smash your coffin so tamely / you are strong / and your long sleep is over now / do not wait for the prince / to lift the spell / be sure to be gone before he can kiss you’. Autonomy and non-reliance on men is not the only motif here; there is also a distinct wish to break free of romantic myths that promise lifelong happiness but in fact force women into stereotypical, subservient roles. The theme of selfdetermination was also essential for the Flying Lesbians, although their lyrical approach was more direct and concrete: in 1975 they composed the song ‘Wir sind die homosexuellen Frauen’ (We Are the Homosexual Women) in which they sang self-assuredly about the then taboo topic of lesbian love. In 1978, classically trained singer turned punk Nina Hagen (see Baßler in this book), who had emigrated from East Berlin to the West in 1976, approached another taboo on her highly regarded debut album: abortion. ‘Unbeschreiblich weiblich’ (Indescribably Feminine) pleads for every woman’s right to choose what to do with her own body, Hagen singing, ‘I was pregnant and I did not want to keep it’, then shouting ‘Why should I carry out my duty as a woman? For whom? For you? For me?’ Hagen also gained notoriety when, during a live discussion on Austrian public television (on Klub 2, August 1979), she demonstrated different masturbation techniques for women. But she was not the first to bring up the topic of reproductive freedom in music. Already in 1974, Ina Deter, then a largely unknown singer-songwriter, had released the single ‘Ich habe abgetrieben’ (I Had an Abortion), whose provocative title referred to the June 1971 cover story of the magazine Stern in which 374 women confessed to having had a (then illegal) abortion.

1980s until 90s In the early 1980s, the ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ (‘NDW’, see Hornberger in this book) movement sought to reclaim pop music for German and Austrian audiences, producing commercialized versions of new wave music in German. The same Ina Deter, one of whose first concert appearances had been at the above-mentioned Frauenfest in 1974, became one of the main representatives of this popularly successful style, but she brought a feminist message with her, especially with the heavily ironic feminist statement ‘Neue Männer braucht das Land’ (New Men Is What This Country Needs) in 1982. Alongside such feminist interventions into the mainstream pop of ‘NDW’, women also participated in the vibrant and artsy underground scene of post punk/new wave. Artists like the groups Mania D, its

From ‘Frauenfest’ to ‘Bitchsm’ 181 offshoot Mania D!, and Die Tödliche Doris from Berlin or Kleenex (later called LiliPUT) from Zurich challenged stereotypical notions of femininity not so much through activist lyrics but rather through their performances and their sonically daring compositions. Their irreverent demeanour on stage, their punkish outfits, and their mode of radically undermining the stereotypes of the dilettante(female)and-genius(male) dichotomy had little or no resemblance to the prevailing images of ‘successful’ femininity of the era. Towards the end of the 1980s, as the momentum of ‘NDW’ fizzled out, on the one hand, and feminist politics was institutionalized through the instigation of women’s and gender studies etc., on the other, both German-language music and overtly feminist pop became ‘uncool’. However, as the world became more globalized, such local scenes found it harder to resist international tropes, especially as postmodern scepticism questioned the concept of ‘authenticity’. A more tongue-in-cheek approach to popular music prevailed, favouring international, glamorous productions instead of homemade ones. But it was the female band Lassie Singers1 that paved the way for a renaissance of German-language pop/ rock music, as well as humorously political songwriting at the beginning of the 1990s. With songs like ‘Mein Freund hat mit mir Schluss gemacht’ (My Boyfriend Dumped Me), ‘Die Pärchenlüge’ (The Cute Couples’ Lie), and ‘Liebe wird oft überbewertet’ (Love Is Often Overrated), the group realized the old feminist slogan ‘The private is political’ in witty, catchily melodious songs about contemporary gender relations. From the point of view of a pop historian concerned with gender, it is (ironically) interesting that the Lassie Singers, who broke up in 1998, are rarely mentioned as precursors of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ (see Huber in this book), an artsy, underground style which was somewhat successful but very influential in the mid-1990s, despite the clear analogies of this genre to the Lassie Singers’ music. But the artists of the ‘Hamburger Schule’ were mostly male (it was a boys’ school, so to speak), so this relationship might seem unthinkable to many. Hamburg was not without its feminists, however. The members of Parole Trixi were associated with the ‘Hamburger Schule’ community, but they followed an altogether different musical approach. Parole Trixi sang in German, but were heavily influenced by the Riot Grrrl Movement from the US and the UK – not so much musically, but thematically: In their punky song ‘Seid gegrüßt’ (Be Greeted) singer Sandra Grether criticizes the omnipresence of media images that subject young women to increasingly unrealistic standards of beauty. In the 1990s, it was the turn of the female music scene in Germany to be internationalized, with acts like Chicks on Speed (Australia/USA) and Peaches (Canada) – initially labelled ‘electro-clash’ – setting up camp in German cities like Berlin, Munich, and Hamburg. This trend continues today, with Berlin in particular having a vibrant expat music scene. At the same time, albeit rather slowly, the theories and practices of third wave feminism reached Germany from the US, creating a renewed interest in feminism, in particular in explicit relation to pop culture and performance, giving rise to the term ‘popfeminismus’. Already in 1998, the two singers of Lassie Singers, Christiane Rösinger and Almut Klotz, had released a female pop compilation called ‘Stolz & Vorurteil’ (Pride and Prejudice)2 on their

182  Sonja Eismann independent label Flittchen Records, while the (under)representation of women in pop music was an ongoing debate in journalism and academia. In 2008, the German journal Testcard, a pop history academic/fanzine hybrid, between fanzine-like and academic writing on ‘pop history’, consecrated an entire issue to the topic of ‘gender’. Such concerns have even appeared in the alt-mainstream: songwriters like Judith Holofernes,3 songwriter and singer of the immensely popular band Wir sind Helden, has inserted proto-feminist messages into her songs, when she advises the young ‘glamour models’ of today to ‘put sometimes something on, girls’ in ‘Zieh dir was an’, adding that she thinks ‘your boss is a little worm, not you’.

Recent developments and conclusion Putting something on is exactly the opposite of what Reyhan Şahin decided to do, transforming herself into Germany’s most controversial female rapper: Lady Bitch Ray. Wearing provocative, revealing outfits and spouting aggressively sexualized lyrics, this young woman of working-class, Turkish-migrant descent, hailing from the northern town of Bremen, has managed to successfully antagonize both the overtly virile macho and often misogynist ‘gossenrap’ (gutter rap) scene as well as the bourgeois media, from the middle of the 1990s until today. Her lyrics range from making fun of tiny ‘German Dicks’ (2006) to ‘enlightening’ her audience about how to ‘fuck a bitch right’ (cf. Lady Bitch Ray, 2012).4 Not only is she also the author of a book on sexual, feminist empowerment for women (bitchsm,5 2012), she is also a young successful academic who recently published her dissertation on the significance of the Muslim headscarf (which she sees as a sign of empowerment, if worn voluntarily). Looking back from Lady Bitch Ray to the beginnings of feminist pop culture in Germany, it seems that the protagonists have come a long way. But it could also be regarded from the opposite point of view that the history of feminist pop culture is like a circle that is slowly closing. For the ‘hot topics’ that pop-loving second-wave feminists in the 1970s grappled with in the 1970s – sexual selfdetermination, reproductive freedom, equality of all women regardless of social status, etc. – are much closer to the issues Lady Bitch Ray is interested in than the rather symbolic modes of oppression that many female artists dealt with in the meantime.

Notes 1 The band had male members, but creatively it operated more from the perspective of its female members. 2 ‘Stolz und Vorurteil’ is in fact the standard German translation of the title of Jane Austen’s novel ‘Pride and Prejudice’. 3 Judith Holfelder-von der Tann, whose chosen nom de plume invokes, of course, feminist symbols. 4 Die Aufklärung is both the German term for the historical Enlightenment period and a word for sex education. 5 Sic., not bitchism.

Part VI

Germanness and otherness

22 ‘White punks on dope’ in Germany Nina Hagen’s punk covers Moritz Baßler

East to West Teenagers listening to the Nina Hagen Band in 1978 were not likely to ever forget the experience, and quite a few lines from the lyrics went straight into the thesaurus of colloquial German (just google ‘alles so schön bunt hier’ [everything is so beautifully coloured here]). Nina Hagen, born in 1955, had already been a successful schlager-starlet in the GDR when she was exiled to the FRG in 1976 in the wake of the expulsion of her stepfather, political singer-songwriter Wolf Biermann. When she came to the West, Biermann negotiated a record contract for her with CBS, but before making a record, Hagen spent some time in London, where she witnessed the birth of British punk and dated fourteen-year-old (and Germanborn) Ari Up, precocious leader of The Slits. Back in Germany, she formed a band with members of the former political rock band Lokomotive Kreuzberg to produce the eponymous album ‘Nina Hagen Band’. ‘TV-Glotzer’ (TV Gaper), the album’s first track, can be seen as a programmatic gesture. As a German-language cover, it seems to be an answer to the question, how to practice punk in German? Interestingly, Hagen, who had just returned from the London punk scene, did not choose a song by a British band such as the Sex Pistols or The Slits for her album opener, but instead a song by a bombastic rock show band from California called The Tubes. This song, ‘White Punks on Dope’, released in 1975, hardly sounded like punk music at all, but it did feature the word ‘punks’ in the title and chorus. This obviously was reason enough for A&T to re-issue the song as a 7″ in Britain in November 1977 in the middle of the punk wave, where sure enough it became a Top 30 hit. When the American original came out, there still must have been an oxymoronic quality to the combination ‘white punks’. It is a character song, sung from the perspective of the bored son of rich Hollywood parents, whose ennui alternates between drug abuse and suicidal fantasies depicting exactly the world that ten years later was to give rise to the international pop novel with Bret Easton Ellis’ ‘Less Than Zero’ (1985, named after an Elvis Costello song) and which, another decade later, would feature in the book that triggered the German pop literature boom of the 90s, Christan Kracht’s ‘Faserland’ (1995). But the travails of being rich and bored were definitely not the concern of British punk in the

186  Moritz Baßler 1970s. And, sure enough, The Tubes’ line ‘Hang myself when I get enough rope’ was drily answered by the title of the 1978 Clash album Give ’Em Enough Rope.

Lost in translation ‘Other dudes are living in the ghetto / But born in Pacific Heights don’t seem much betto’. So sing The Tubes. But the social democratic welfare state in West Germany in the late 70s was known neither for its ghettos nor for its enclaves of the extremely rich. So what does Nina Hagen in her so-called deutsche Übersetzung (German translation) do to the American original to adapt it to its new European home? For one thing, she reduces the sing-along chorus (‘we’re white punks on dope’) to a strictly first person singular statement (‘Ich schalt die Glotze an’ [I turn on the tube]). These words, voicing the feelings of a lonely German girl in front of her TV set (the ‘tube’) also re-gender the song. And, further, all markers of wealth and upper class are stripped away, the colloquial and even vulgar language of Hagen’s version connoting the lower middle class, with specific hints of the Berlin dialect (‘Ick hänge rum’ [I hang out]). The most blatant difference to The Tubes song, though, is what Nina Hagen does with her voice. Although Hagen does not use the extremes of her three-octave range on this song (she employs the full extent of her voice on some other songs on the album), the virtuosity of her phrasing is already fully present from the prologue on. The way she is exaggerating the stereotypical welcoming tone in over-phrasing the positive adverbs in her impersonation of a TV host has no equal in the original. Crucially these are the first lines on record by Nina Hagen in the West and, as well as everything else, they make the implicit but clear statement: ‘I know how to do it, and I know how to overdo it’. From the very beginning, Hagen’s voice puts everything she sings in the quotation marks of Camp. Virtuosity is used to combine her unique performative power with the distance of reflection. Hagen impersonates her role in a much more lively way than The Tubes’ front man had his, but there can also be no doubt that it is just a role. This gesture – which, by the way, becomes all the more puzzling in the more feminist songs from the album – is far away from the supposed raw authenticity of early punk performances. It is worth looking at the text of Hagen’s translation in detail. The original Tubes’ verses follow a regular scheme: parallel rhymes in the stanzas, alternating rhymes in the chorus. As in the ‘ghetto-betto’ couplet quoted above, they go a long way to use perfect rhyming. Hagen, in her first stanza, follows the original quite closely, though ‘vergessen-verschissen’ (forgotten-fucking) is only a near rhyme, and not a very convincing one either. But after this, within the stanzas, her German version abandons rhyming altogether – it is entirely replaced by the free running phraseological routines of Hagen. In abandoning the narrow metrical scheme of the original, she makes room for a hitherto unheard German pop language, avoiding the embarrassing effects that will inevitably occur in attempts to fit bulky German words and phrases into patterns of English prosody. Even in

‘White punks on dope’ in Germany 187 the chorus, where Hagen retains parallel rhymes, these rhymes are weakened by her different intonation of ‘vier’ and ‘hier’ (four and here). This leaves just one perfect rhyme in each chorus (in the first two lines), and it is a very particular one, for it is the pairing of a German word with an English one (‘an – everyone’ in the first chorus, ‘an – fun’ in the second and third). This is all the more significant since there is no English whatsoever in the stanzas. The linguistic hybridity of the perfect rhyme, thus, makes a statement: as soon as the bored German kid turns on the TV – marked in the chorus as her equivalent to dope (‘Ich schalt die Glotze an’ / ‘We’re white punks on dope’), products of the American culture industry will ooze out like the sticky liquor from the ‘Erfrischungswaffeln’ (refreshing waffles): ‘Die Daltons, Waltons, everyone’. The receptive vector of popular entertainment goes from the East to the West (‘Ich glotz von Ost nach West’ [I gape from East to West]). Hagen’s background taken into consideration, this implies the transgression of at least two cultural borders: to move from East to West Germany means to open up to Western consumer culture, which of course has its origin in the U.S. The gaze of the TV consumer thus turns the direction of cultural export around. And while the Tubes’ white punk is bored in Hollywood, Hollywood products seem to be the only excitement for his German counterpart. ‘Ick kann mich gar nich entscheiden / is alles so schön bunt hier’ (I cannot decide, everything is so beautifully coloured here). The confusing multitude of the TV program – and we are speaking of the 1970s here, when only three channels were broadcast in West Germany – the colourful world of media culture, is it part of the cure or part of the disease? How is the diagnosis of the stanzas – social isolation, lack of creative imagination, nausea created by bad literature and junk food – related to the chorus and its reference to the international culture industry? After all, we are dealing with a German cover of an American pop song, both produced by this very American culture industry. And, of course, this album was supposed to be – and actually was – the beginning of a great career within Western pop and media culture for Nina Hagen. Her hyperbolic TV announcement also announces the debut of the Nina Hagen Band, on record as well as in concert. It also adds a self-reflexive twist to the whole performance, putting it into quotation marks, indicating that all anyone will ever get is a media show. From an East to West perspective, the chorus seems to imply that the world of Western media may be overwhelming at first sight, but in resolving everything into non-differentiated colourfulness proves to be extremely transitory (‘Happyness flutsch flutsch fun fun’). Turning on the TV may be a last resort for the bored German youth, but in the passiveness of her consumerism, once again the parallel to the white punk’s dope addiction becomes obvious, explicitly so in the song’s coda (‘TV is ne Droge. TV macht süchtig’ [TV is a drug. TV makes you an addict]). Thus, the song, though not literally translating any material of the original’s lyrics, really is a ‘translation’ of some kind, redefining the state of juvenile ennui in West German middle class terms, refusing to surrender to the opium for the people offered by the entertainment industry but willing to put the energetic potentials of pop culture into use.

188  Moritz Baßler

Pank Hagen’s German cover of ‘White Punks on Dope’, as mentioned, the first song on her album, avoids the word ‘punk’ that had been the song’s ticket to Europe in the first place. She makes up for this in the last song on the record, simply titled ‘Pank’. Co-written by Arianne Forster aka Ari Up, this is the only real punk song of the album music-wise. But the Germanized spelling already serves as a strong marker for the cultural and linguistic transfer of the original material. The misspelling is continued in the cryptic line ‘Hau ab, you fool of crub’, probably a misreading of ‘you’re full of crap’. This time, the song takes up the topic of gender roles in a feminist way, Hagen impersonating an aggressive, liberated girl. One of punk’s many heroic fight-the-power stories is connected to this song: when CBS officials agreed to release the album, but without ‘Pank’, the band declared their decision to either release the record with the song or not at all and won. Indeed, the punk attitude here licenses the most radical, most offensive language ever heard in German pop culture at that time: Ich bin nich deine Fickmaschine. spritz spritz das isn Witz äh . . . Schätzchen, wir müssen ausnanda gehen. TSCHAU TSCHAU DU ALTE SAU!!! (I am not your fuck-machine/ splash, splash, that’s a joke, ah/ Darling we have to separate/ Bye-bye, you stupid sod!!!) German ‘Fickmaschine’, of course, is just a very explicit (and re-gendered) translation of James Brown’s sex machine, one of various male-dominated roles pop culture has in stock for women. Another one of these roles is integrated into the German lyrics in English: ‘die Mädchen sind die sexie sadies’. In the Beatles’ ‘Sexy Sadie’ (1968) a male voice accuses the girl of breaking the rules (‘you laid it down for all to see’); in James Brown’s ‘Sex Machine’ (1970) a male voice calls for the girl to ‘get up’ and ‘shake [her] money maker’ because he wants to act ‘like a sex machine’. In both cases, of course, the girl’s role is not the traditional one of mother and housewife, which the song also refuses, nevertheless the new, pop cultural roles turn out to be male fantasies as well. What Hagen propounds instead is a lustful female conduct: ‘Leg mir lieber PUDER, KAMM + LIPPENSTIFT bereit’ (better prepare powder, comb and lipstick for me). Referring to the Brothers Grimm’s tale ‘Frau Holle’, the song’s last verse calls up the good girl/bad girl story most deeply rooted in German culture – the golden girl being rewarded for taking care of household chores, while the pitchy girl is punished for being idle and selfish. Hagen, of course, inverts the common stereotype by declaring ‘Dann geh ich mit Frau Holle aufn Strich’ (then I will walk the streets with Frau Holle), associating clichés of the area around the ‘Bahnhof Zoo’ station in Berlin – drugs

‘White punks on dope’ in Germany 189 (Frau Holle’s snow) and prostitution – with the fairy-tale models of female behaviour. The attributes of girlish prettiness, powder, comb and lipstick, connect to the sleeve portrait of Hagen in punk make-up, smoking a cigarette, completing the integrity of herself as a role model. Establishing the punk concept once and for all within German culture, ‘Pank’ is also the closing song of the band’s 1978 live show, and sure enough, Hagen’s introduction sets up the campy quotation marks again: ‘Jetzt kommt das Allerletzte, was es überhaupt gibt, ähm, Pank’ (now comes the very last existing-er-Pank). The ambiguity of ‘das Allerletzte’ – the very last and the very least – as well as her stage acting leave little doubt that the punk is just one of the many roles at her disposal – maybe this is why ‘authentic’ punks, e.g. at Ratinger Hof in Düsseldorf, hated her so much. This, the performance seems to say, is not punk, but Nina Hagen, and punk – the music, the attitude, the license to offend – is just part of the material she works into her tissue of quotations. It is very fitting, then, that the first encore of her show is a cover of Frank Sinatra’s ‘My Way’. Originally a French chanson and translated for Sinatra by Paul Anka after he (Anka) had visited Paris in 1968, this song is a hymn to the self-reliance of the great entertainer, who, facing the ‘final curtain’, is looking back on his fulfilled life. Hagen, clad in a glamorous boa, intones the first verse and chorus in English, quoting the already campy grandezza of the great entertainer. In June 1978, Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols had recorded his scary punk parody of the song, a couple of months before knifing his girlfriend and facing his own final curtain by a drug overdose, creating one of punk’s die-hard myths of authenticity. Only if you listen very closely you will notice that Hagen, in her re-tailoring of Sinatra’s final curtain, actually uses Vicious’s version of the first stanza: ‘You cunt, I’m not a queer’ instead of ‘My friend, I’ll say it clear’. Re-imported across the Atlantic, the chanson that became Sinatra’s personal hymn had to suffer significant changes. British punk turned it into a bitter parody featuring fantasies of violence tearing the great showbiz gestures to shreds. Nina Hagen picks it up from where Vicious had let it fall and restores something of the old grandezza, if only in quotation marks, implying that her way is able to adopt Las Vegas and punk at the same time without reducing one to the other, because her way produces something new and different from its material, something we might most appropriately call ‘Nina Hagen’. There is a market for authenticity even in pop culture, and parts of punk have been producing for that market. The alternative would be to stress the artificiality and reflect upon the semiotic volatility of the pop-cultural product. This is the way Hagen chose after being exiled to the West.

23 Singing in German Pop music and the question of language Diedrich Diederichsen

These days, it does not matter whether a band or a singer working in Germany uses German, English, or any other language. Choosing one or the other is often pre-decided by the genre. Literary ambition and songwriting aspirations often lead German-raised individuals to use their native language, while an orientation towards international pop music generates English lyrics. When it comes to genres such as hip-hop, their idiom may be a combination of several languages, a hybrid, if you will: artistic blends of migrant native languages, street slang, and so on. Some time ago, the decision to use either German or English was, however, an artistic and political decision. This development began in the 1970s and became a crucial factor at the end of the decade, and this kind of decision remained controversial well into the 1990s. In a text written in the late 1980s, I presented an argument against a widely held opinion at the time, namely that German native speakers should use the German language (cf. Diederichsen, 1988: p. 34f.). Revisiting this debate in this publication, I am going to reconstruct, re-contextualize, and reassess my position back then. At first, cool pop music in the German-speaking area was an import from the UK and USA and it was obvious that the local imitators from the Rattles to the German Bonds also sang in English. After all, pop music was the sound of reeducation, the means to identify with the language of the victors of World War II and especially with the music of African Americans. It was a chance to dissociate oneself from parents who had supported the Nazi regime and their culture. With the possible exception of a few attempts to associate German pop music with supposedly harmless German traditions (Weimar, cabaret, etc.) or a beery and primarily masculine escape into fraternizing gestures by what has been referred to as the ‘Hamburger Szene’ (Hamburg Scene) in the mid-70s, with its very popular protagonist Udo Lindenberg, there were no relevant bands with German lyrics before the German reception of punk. The author of these words has been strongly influenced by this period and used to be an advocate of a new, sarcastic-realistic approach to the German language and, more specifically, to names, product descriptions, daily life in the Federal Republic of Germany, its technocratic culture, its ugly boulevards and mass culture associated with bands such as Mittagspause, Palais Schaumburg, S.Y.P.H., Der Plan, Die Tödliche Doris, Fehlfarben, Hans-a-Plast, and many others (see

Singing in German 191 Hornberger in this book). The decision to use the German language was one of realism. But soon it was associated with talk of cultural specificity, of something distinctly German, and other legitimizing figures reminiscent of cultural nationalism, and the language shifted from aggressive realism to a disquieting mixture of perhaps unintentionally rightist and foggy anti-imperialist discourses.1 Since that time, that is, around the mid-80s, I have defended the Hanover-based band The 39 Clocks multiple times. This band did not jump on the bandwagon when the lyrics of punk songs began to be written in German, and it celebrated singing English with a false, provincially German accent in a way that I found successfully anti-authentic. In hindsight, it was quite patronizing and impertinent of me to ascribe the ideological notions of authenticity and immediacy to people who want to sing in their so-called mother tongue. However, I made this kind of argument for a long time. It was my opinion that German lyrics sung by German speakers and, in general, all lyrics in a native language imply a missed opportunity to express oneself in a foreign language in pop music, a missed opportunity to remember that, even in the thrall of emotions triggered by music, one always uses a language made of symbols, which, in turn, were already complete before one started using them. This argument was essentially derived from an earlier one, namely that all pop music (and of course not all popular music) should be reflexive about the fact that it is composed of codified elements and how it is constituted by them. The elements are complete well before I use them, and I use them precisely because they are already complete. I could not believe that there just might be another process, for example devising notes or playing notes more passionately, that might make these notes mine. My sound. Pop music is the love of foreign sounds (as opposed to other forms of popular music, like folk songs or German schlager, which are – in their ideological self-image – connected to traditions and thus ‘belong’ to the people who identify with that tradition). A kind of speaking in tongues or rather ‘hearing in tongues’: after all, we all heard and sang English songs for years without knowing what the lyrics actually meant. In the late 1980s and early 90s, what is now commonly referred to as the ‘Hamburger Schule’ (Hamburg School) (Kolossale Jugend, Blumfeld, Cpt. Kirk &.) established something akin to a new German politicized singer/songwriter culture with an affinity for theory and poetry (see Huber in this book). Then German rap (see Güler-Saied in this book) emerged as a very successful mainstream music genre enjoyed particularly by children of migrants (Kool Savas, Bushido) and/ or by petit-bourgeois suburban kids (Die Fantastischen Vier). This trend was followed by the embarrassing rehabilitation of Udo Lindenberg, orchestrated by the cultural section of some newspapers on one of the old man’s birthdays. My first comment from 1988 on this subject already represented a revision of my earlier position because I had very good reasons for being a big advocate of Germanspeaking popular music around 1979/80. I  just wanted to insist that their German was clearly that of the Federal Republic. Back then, we loved this slogan by Frank Fenstermacher of Der Plan: ‘Wenn euch Punk nicht passt, geht doch nach drüben!’ (if you don’t like punk, go to the East!).

192  Diedrich Diederichsen Looking back, I realize that in the mid-80s, when I was in favour of what one could refer to as the ‘Hanover English’ of 39 Clocks, I felt that articulations or, rather, artistic articulations should be concerned with the reasons (in the case of popular music mostly fetishist ones) why a particular symbol or another previously completed medium is used and not so much with the question of what kind of content is developed through this medium. The recipients construct actual content anyway. One could argue that this kind of fetishist relationship could also be developed vis-à-vis the words of one’s native language. Thus, when the successful rap and soul artist Jan Delay grapples with the local dialect in Hamburg, he also indicates that he has a fetishist relationship to another influential musician known for mumbling, Udo Lindenberg, that he does not care about unsavoury Lindenberg’s macho ugliness of spirit. In light of this, my current perspective on the use of the German language in popular music differs from the one from the mid-80s inasmuch as it is not just about the exposition of the artists’ fetishisms in their relation to the signs and means they use and adopt per se – in the end, it might be even done for good reasons – but about the assessment of certain fetishes or, to be more precise, the commitment to inherent decisions regarding taste, decisions that should not allow themselves to be reduced (and be able to wiggle out of it) by the fact that music, lyrics and language are determined by the contingent circumstances of one’s birth. Of course, the premise here is that the affected individuals have a choice, whereas the category of fetishism implies that the focus has to be on the dimensions of language that are beyond one’s control. To some extent, the position I assumed in the mid-80s already anticipated some of the arguments I  use now, for example, by viewing the identification of this aspect as a chance to comment, confirm, or cleverly ironize personal choice. However, this does not count because when the main motivation behind my defence of bad English is scrutinized, something else becomes visible: it should be all about describing people – lyrics, songs, or whatever else one wants to make them responsible for in pop music – one likes in a way that acknowledges their fetishism and the right decision they have made, that is a decision in favour of the correct involuntariness. My goal here is not to ignore the difference between conscious decision and lived imprint (and to argue against the idea of free will) but to define what a good pop music artist does. Following this logic, one would arrive at this conclusion: this artist is an exceptional person who was imprinted correctly and whose rational and argumentatively accessible decisions came about through what I would describe as a kind of libidinous aristocracy, an aristocracy of the correct imprinting. However, this was not desirable either, not because aristocracy was detested but because one did not want anything to do with one’s family or any other one, nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s own imprints. So now, the ethics of the obsessively inauthentic, the conscious speaking in tongues, and the chosen involuntariness become really difficult. I  wanted to take responsibility for a choice that would later save me the trouble of making a decision and its justification. In general, I did not want atheism or freedom, but god and determination. I wanted,

Singing in German  193 however, to choose what would restrict my freedom, what would determine my life. In other words, I wanted to be my own predetermined god. Like many spiritually enlightened musicians, for example Mahavishnu John McLaughlin, I did not want to say: ‘I am an instrument, played by God’. Instead, I wanted to say, ‘I am the instrument, played by a very narrow-minded, merciless god but I have appointed him in his magnitude of power’. Pretty stupid, no? But I needed god, and determinism as an intermediate step: Nothing is as distasteful as ascribing something, for example success, to one’s actions, especially in the medium of pop music. It is always about positioning oneself in a way that one is randomly discovered in a seemingly contingent pose. One hangs around so entrancingly exactly the right way, but of course, one could never have intended to do so (and yet wants to be recognized for the right hanging around and not for the accidental look that resulted from it). Perhaps this is an instance of what could be described, for the lack of a better word, as narcissism by the author: a love of the self, which is reflected in attempts to shift responsibility on foreign imprints, fetishisms, foreign tongues, and the like, but secretly wants credit for everything, for the backdrops it needs to garner all interest. In other words, my own argument in favour of singing in English could be seen as an attempt to solve the contradiction between staid responsibility and sharp fate. It is not about the exhibition of an imprint, not about performing words that do not articulate but serve the fetishism. Instead, it is rather about a formula, a working hypothesis to deal with and exhibit a second imprint: in a fetishized foreign language, the foreign and always complete symbol does not meet an empty tabula rasa but instead the small subject, which is beginning to be ready to make decisions while also seeking to be devoted. To declare this moment significant, effectively declaring the first love as an everlasting intermediate state between decision makers with high stakes and being completely without a clue. That could be a factor that would allow me, in line of the argument I made in the 80s, to defend singing in English by non-native speakers. Obviously, one can use the words of a language that one spoke before one wanted to express something just as well as those of a language that one vowed to fall in love with. It is possible to lose oneself/one’s self in its early obscurity when one is young. Perhaps an intermediate stage of singing in English is necessary to achieve that. Or, in the case of authors and singer/songwriters, it could also be a lyrical stage, a stage that is characterized by a focus solely on text that can be sung. Authors and singer/songwriters thus train themselves to write only in the way that one would repeat the words of the second imprint in writing. Finally, one could perhaps manage to reach a point in the first-learned, so-called native language when one can distinguish between words acquired during the first and second learning process in the same way that one distinguishes between English and German words without any effort. (I still won’t have gotten rid of Jan Delay, but do I even want that? All I want is a criterion that allows me to describe what he does as methodologically correct but incorrect in his point of reference – Lindenberg – and that would do the job).

194  Diedrich Diederichsen

Note 1 Almost needless to mention that this lame discourse kept resurfacing later and involved arguments in favour of German-language quotas on the radio and television. This argument has been made, for example, by the singer and songwriter Heinz Rudolf Kunze.

24 ‘NDW’/New German wave From punk to mainstream Barbara Hornberger

The term ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ usually abbreviated ‘NDW’,1 refers to a short period of five years, which, nonetheless, had and has an enormous importance for and impact on popular music in Germany. It is no exaggeration to say that the NDW transformed German popular music. NDW was the impetus for a number of key developments: it established new regional and independent scenes, it spurred the widespread use of German lyrics in popular songs beyond schlager (see Mendívil in this book), and it picked up on and recycled other traditions from German popular culture, developed subversive strategies and anticipated aesthetics of postmodern culture (aesthetics and strategies as, e. g., fragmentation, bricolage, taking affirmative and sceptical positions). ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ means in its literal translation ‘New German Wave’, implying it being an equivalent for ‘new wave’ music from Britain and USA. This would be only partially correct. NDW did emerge, similarly to new wave, from punk, and in the same chronological period, but it developed into an original and distinct genre. Yet, characterising this genre is far from easy. Imagining the shelves of a music store, some NDW bands (such as Male, Mittagspause, Abwärts, ZK, Hans-a-Plast) might be shelved under punk/indie, others more broadly under German rock (e.g. Extrabreit, Spliff, Nena) or pop (e.g. Neonbabies, Ideal, Falco) and others across an extremely wide spectrum, from avant-garde (e.g. Einstürzende Neubauten, Trio, Palais Schaumburg, DAF, Malaria!) to schlager (e.g. Hubert Kah, Markus, Frl. Menke) – not to mention various ‘in-between’ phenomena. Thus, the most significant feature of NDW seems to be its heterogeneity, raising various questions: Can NDW be spoken of as a distinct genre at all? Is there such a thing as NDW aesthetic(s)? What is its ideological core? An in-depth exploration of these questions would have to include, at the very least, studies of the music, of the cultural practices of musicians and fans, of the historical context of NDW and of the development of the genre itself – an impossible task within the scope of this chapter.2 I will therefore concentrate on the defining aspects and moments of the genre, starting with a brief glance at its historical origins.

A (very short) history of NDW Punk, when it first reached Germany in 1977, was just another imported music trend that could be listened to, enjoyed, and perhaps copied, much like rock’n’roll

196  Barbara Hornberger in the 1950s or beat music in the 1960s. Especially in Düsseldorf, Hamburg, Hanover and Berlin, new bands soon began to spring up like mushrooms, encouraged by the punk slogan ‘this is a chord, this is another, this is a third. Now form a band’ (cf. Savage, 1980: p. 280f.). Yet, in differentiation to former imported music styles, the new German punk bands used the ‘DIY’-punk ethos to express their own attitude towards life. Although many young people in Germany picked up punk slogans such as ‘no future’ seemingly due to their perception of their social situation as fragile and dissatisfying, the German appropriation of punk is not based on social determination. Following more an intellectual and stylistic agenda rather than a social one, parts of German youth seized the image of punk and playfully transformed it. NDW was clearly not working- but middle-class music, as those young people participating were mainly high school and college students with more interest in artistic experiments than in reproducing imported style standards. In particular, punk’s demand for immediate and undiluted expression of personal world experience and perception translated into the writing of lyrics in German. Until this point, German-language lyrics were largely seen as a characteristic of schlager (and therefore dismissed, see Mendívil in this book), with only a few German rock musicians (such as Ton Steine Scherben, Udo Lindenberg, Marius Müller-Westernhagen and Kraftwerk [see Matejovski in this book]) singing in German. Now, however, a broad and varied range of bands were using their mother tongue – with the immediate consequence that they were producing lyrics German music fans could easily understand. This was the first and most significant step to the forming of a new genre and the starting point not only of a linguistic but also of a cultural transfer. NDW may have its roots in punk rock with German lyrics, but it quickly grew into something more that resulted from various differentiations and extensions of musical, textual and performative modes. In the early phase of NDW, bands like DAF, Abwärts, Hans-a-plast and S.Y.P.H. were already modifying the standardised and rather simplistic form of punk songs, dismissing the pattern of verse-chorus-verse, renouncing rhymes, exchanging typical shouted punk vocals for rhythmic recitation and singing, augmenting the usual instrumental configuration of punk with the inclusion of violins and saxophones, synthesizers and sequencers. NDW songs were no longer characterised by aggressive-agitating, emotionalising and polarising modes. Their lyrics became more descriptive, showing a laconic or sober gesture instead of simply expressing (or trying to provoke) revolt. They did not develop utopian worlds or visions and they rarely touched on love or grief. NDW songs were rather concerned with finding a new, unadorned, personal grasp of presence.

NDW – an attitude of distance The aesthetics just indicated are utilised in NDW as a means to echo a common horizon of generational experience, which finds its expression in an attitude of distance towards itself and the world. This distance appears as a factor in attempts to connect personal concerns and social issues, e.g. in DAF’s ‘Ich und die Wirklichkeit’ (Me and Reality, 1981) or ‘Paul ist tot’ (Paul Is Dead, 1980) by

‘NDW’/New German wave 197 Fehlfarben. NDW distances itself from imported punk through modifications and interpretations, whilst simultaneously creating a distance to its own home country. NDW artists do – in differentiation to youth cultures before grasp of Germany as their homeland, not through their apparent lyrical use of their mother tongue but also by asking for German culture traditions beyond Goethe and Schiller, Bach and Wagner, and also beyond ‘Heimatfilm’ and Alpine folk music. Indeed, NDW bands explicitly – and most often ironically – refer to traditions in German (popular) entertainment, particularly from the 1920s and 1950s. However, they relate to Germany as homeland less in a romantic and/or conservative way and more in terms of a kind of broken relationship. Their concept of homeland is a concept of ideological differentiation from and within it. They use the German language especially to express their difference to ‘Germanness’, which thereby comes to appear as the foreignness – ‘sprich fremde Sprachen im eigenen Land’ (Speak foreign languages in your own country, a lyric from ‘Gottseidank nicht in England’ [Thank God not in England], by Fehlfarben, 1980). Gazing with cool appraisal from a sober distance, NDW artists are able to portray the social and political atmosphere of the 1970s in West Germany – an atmosphere shaped by economic recession and the terror of the Rote Armee Fraktion (R.A.F.).3 These BRD realities are captured in exemplary NDW songs like ‘Der lange Weg nach Derendorf’ (The Long Way to Derendorf, by Mittagspause, 1981), ‘Computerstaat’ (Computer State, by Abwärts, 1980) and ‘Rank Xerox’ (by Hans-a-Plast, 1979). This attitude of distance has to be seen as an essential characteristic shared across the various sub-styles of NDW that emerge from further stylistic differentiations. Early NDW songs – significant examples are ‘Herrenreiter’ (Horseman, by Mittagspause, 1979), ‘Maschinenland’ (Machine Land, by Abwärts, 1980) or ‘Kebabträume’ (Dreams Of Kebab, by DAF, 1980) – show musical minimalism (as well as intentional dilettantism), use sampled sounds, lyrics in the manner of headlines or slogans and ambiguity and mysteriousness – both potentially irritating. In addition, references to everyday life, directness, laconic attitude and irony mark the style of the NDW bands, which are, at this point, perceived as ‘underground’, and a kind of pop avant-garde. As the genre develops, NDW begins to encompass on the one hand more experimental variations, some of which are even extreme. For example, Einstürzende Neubauten work with avant-garde machine sounds, Pyrolator produces instrumental music with synthesizers and sequencers, and Die tödliche Doris engages not only with music but also with performance art. Some of these pop artists scratch at and even cross the threshold of highbrow culture. On the other hand, another strain of NDW manifests itself in a series of bands (e.g. Der Plan, Andreas Dorau, Palais Schaumburg, Trio) with a great zest for playfulness, the comical or even the bizarre. This more pleasant or accessible form of NDW gains some mainstream success and produces some one-hit wonders.

Three strategies of subversion In its common perception ‘underground’ music is supposed to be subversive and oppositional. And indeed, NDW generates three identifiable strategies of subversion: provocation, mystification and tactical affirmation. All of these are aimed at

198  Barbara Hornberger petit bourgeois society on the one hand, and, on the other, at the previous 1968 generation and hippies. NDW provocations develop directly from punk, the bestknown example being DAF and their song ‘Der Mussolini’ (1981).4 Mystification is a strategy that subverts the conventional social and political duty to be rational, by operating with irrational and ambiguous statements such as ‘Morgen wird der Wald gefegt’ (Tomorrow the Forest Will Be Swept, 1981) and ‘Ich wollt, ich wär ein Telephon’ (I Wish I Were a Phone, 1981) (both by Palais Schaumburg), ‘Anna – lassmichrein lassmichraus’ (Anna – Letmein Letmeout, by Trio [see Jost in this book], 1982) or ‘Im ZK, Agent aus Türkei’ (Turkish Agents in the Central Comittee, by DAF, 1980). Mystfication is also a strategic refusal of communication per se. I describe the third subversive strategy of NDW as tactical affirmation. Songs like ‘Zurück zum Beton’ (Back to Concrete, by S.Y.P.H., 1979) or ‘Die Welt ist schlecht, das Leben schön’ (The World Is Bad, Life Is Beautiful, by Der Plan, 1980) exaggerates affirmation and relates it to unusual things and contexts. Thus, they are no longer openly oppositional, but they rather achieve opposition through hidden operations: they deploy an infiltration strategy that unmasks with irony. This affirmation strategy works as provocation: tactical affirmation celebrates dilettantism instead of rock virtuosity, counters the political intellectuality of the 1968 generation with humour and playfulness, replaces the authenticity values of hippies with obvious artificiality and the standardised no-future attitude of punk with subversive cheerfulness. A recurring manoeuver is that NDW bands position themselves not in opposition to but rather crosswise against society, utilising deception and confusion instead of obvious protest. The most significant representation of all these approaches is the band Trio – they connect punk and schlager, minimalistic aesthetics and Dadaistic comedy and play along the edge between nonsense and art (see Jost in this book). Their approach to stage performance has a particularly subversive effect. For example, even their performance of the song ‘Da da da ich lieb dich nicht du liebst mich nicht’ (There There There, I Don’t Love You, You Don’t Love Me, by Trio, 1982)5 on the TV show ‘ZDFHitparade’,6broadcast on public television on May 3, 1982, refused to accept the standard TV conventions of semi-live playback. They let the bass drum roll away, repaired the guitar strings, and repeatedly held the Casio Vl–1 mini-synthesizer up to the camera in order to emphasise that the synthesizer did half the rhythm work. By connecting artificial, experimental, playful and ironical modes Trio marks in a way the NDW transition into mainstream, followed by already existing and even more new bands. For these NDW bands, such genre developments – humour such as that displayed by Trio, musical and lyrical engagements with schlager, and references to the 1950s – still form part of this tactical affirmation strategy, as they function as ironically broken allusions to smugness and the conservative turn in German politics in 1982, when the Kohl administration demanded a renaissance of a work ethic to emulate the reconstruction efforts and achievements of the 1950s. Geier Sturzflug’s ‘Bruttosozialprodukt’ (Gross National Product) expresses a direct but over-the-top commitment to the new work ethic politics. Ideal’s ‘Monotonie in der Südsee’ (Monotony in the South Sea) picks up on the 1950s desire to travel but exposes it as 1980s boredom. Frl. Menke’s ‘Hohe Berge’ (Mountain High) is

‘NDW’/New German wave 199 the musical translation of a ‘Heimatfilm’, the singer’s stage name being a reference to the German ‘Fräuleinwunder’ (Girly Wonder) of the fifties. Hubert Kah works ironically with the conventions of schlager. Markus’ ‘Ich will Spaß’ (I Want to Have Fun) refers to the motorisation of the 1950s ‘rebels without a cause’, and to the West German slogan ‘Freie Fahrt, für freie Bürger’ (free drive for free citizens,7 replacing the punk slogan ‘no fun’ with ‘I want to have fun’).8 Tactical affirmation strategy only works as long as there are shared attitudes or even a consensus on the subject matter under critique, and this consensus is already acknowledged or is at least easily communicable. Yet, the songs just mentioned were mainstream hits in Germany – no longer reaching just an underground audience. With such a widening audience, the circle of recipients broadens, gaining more heterogeneity, and this consensus can no longer be assumed, nor can it necessarily be created. Following the enormous success up to 1981 the increasingly expanding audience(s) becomes a problem and key dilemma for the NDW. Subcultures are thought to be anti-commercial, and in opposition, but the NDW’s subversion strategies led to success and major record deals, meaning quite a few bands ran into credibility problems. The strategy of tactical affirmation was no longer seen to be subversive due to their success with the ‘wrong’ people. By the end of 1982, the success of the new genre came to a sudden and early end, because the charts, radio and TV shows were crowded by NDW acts, which were more and more the result of labels’ artist castings.

Influences – conclusion Despite the premature end of NDW, its creative potential endures in subsequent genres: firstly, the repetitive structure of the DAF songs, the loops, synthesizer sounds and their focus on the dance floor are said to be a ‘blueprint for contemporary house- and techno music’ (Westbam, quoted in Wagner, 1999: p.  155), as it has developed in Germany. Secondly, the ‘Hamburger Schule’ (Hamburg School, see Huber in this book) in the 1990s can be seen as a textual, musical and ideological continuation of NDW’s gesture and poetics. Thirdly, German rap (see Güler-Saied in this book), despite the fact that it is musically dissimilar to NDW, shares many characteristics as a genre: it is an imported style, adopted, adapted and re-interpreted by German artists to address German concerns in the German language, negotiating the tensions between underground values and popular success, and concerned about credibility and independent values. NDW is important for such diverse genres as the ‘Hamburger Schule’ and hip-hop culture, for having established the validity of German lyrics, and for developing and anticipating important aesthetic and cultural strategies. It created a new tradition of German popular music that continues to retain its essential impact.

Notes 1 The term derives from a three-part article by Alfred Hilsberg in the German music magazine SOUNDS. Two parts of the article used ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ in their title.

200  Barbara Hornberger

2 3 4

5 6 7 8

The respective parts are: Hilsberg, 1979a: pp.  20–25; Hilsberg, 1979b: pp.  22–27; Hilsberg, 1979c: pp. 44–48. A more detailed analysis of these different aspects of ‘NDW’ is given in Hornberger, 2011. R.A.F. terror in West Germany – the Bundesrepublik Deutschland, or BRD – climaxed in 1977. The forty-four days after the kidnapping of the German industrial leader Hanns Martin Schleyer are known as ‘Germany’s autumn of terror’. This song is a minimalistic electro track with synthesizer loops and shouted lyrics, commanding listeners to dance not only the Mussolini, but also the Jesus Christ, the Adolf Hitler and the communism, the song seemingly transforming these (in)famous names and ideologies into apparent dance styles. The song provoked a lot of discussion among fans and critics, particularly about appropriateness or implications of the lyrics’ command to ‘dance the Adolf Hitler’, issued in a peremptory, military tone by the singer Gabi Delgado-Lopez. The correlation to British punk’s use of the swastika and other symbols of fascism is obvious. The song title ‘Da Da Da [. . .]’ makes a reference to the art movement of ‘Dadaism’, which is underlined by the deconstructive performance of the group. The ZDF-Hitparade was a famous TV chart show for German-speaking music. This slogan was circulated in the 1970s by both car associations and industry alike and seems to posit an individual right to motorised speed on the same level as the (democratic) right of freedom and citizenship. For a more detailed analysis of this song, see Hornberger (in process).

25 Integrated music media analysis An application to Trio Christofer Jost

Introduction Since the very beginnings of popular music studies, researchers have been confronted with the related questions of what is meaningful about this kind of music and how to analyse its artefacts. Among the various respondents to these problems are scholars who have focused on the social significance of music, concentrating on the analysis of listening habits and symbolic orders, and others who have identified melodic shapes, harmonic structures or groove patterns (or the interaction of all these) as particularly relevant. This paper argues that, for all the promising approaches to popular music research, it is crucial to realize that the way people create and experience popular music complies with the inherent logics of media production. This will be explicated using the example of one of the pioneers of German minimal pop music, Trio.

Popular music and media realities: practices, institutions and materiality Popular music has always been determined by the search for collective impact, by its quite literal engagement with what is ‘popular’. Indeed, throughout the decades, artists and their audiences have formed communities that have been able to change society at large. With the advent of the rock’n’roll era, this social impetus was reinforced by the rise of a self-assertive youth culture. Popular music as a locus for community, societal change, and group expression can be understood as a cultural practice, that is to say as an interactive and process-related ‘being-in-the-world’, which people use to assign meaning to their environment (cf. Sandberg & Dall’Alba, 2009: pp. 1349–1368). Various agents take an active part in this practice (musicians, managers, journalists, fans, etc.). They contribute to the differentiation of popular music into a variety of specialist practices (writing songs, selling records, reviewing concerts, watching video clips, etc.) that are intertwined in manifold ways. Each group of agents combines the potential to channel the various practices or the practice as a whole in a certain direction. However, the processes that shape these practices are not contingent: they rather obey implicit logics of action that result from the enduring interaction between the

202  Christofer Jost agents or groups of agents. This means that the dynamics within the cultural practice of popular music – as is generally true of cultural practices – are tied to certain restrictions. These constraints, however, do not deny popular music the ability to create innovative forms of artistic representation. The history of popular music reveals that moments which break with established musical or music-related ways of action – moments such as Bob Dylan’s decision to ‘go electric’ or Kraftwerk’s commitment to producing popular music that eschewed the stereotypical rock instruments guitar, bass and drums – can create quite a stir among press and public, a hubbub that is part angry rejection of the innovation, part excited enthusiasm for something new (cf. Jost, 2012). Arguably, the expectation that such surprising moments recur has itself become a determining constraint on the practice of popular music. The insight that popular music is a cultural practice may be complemented with structuration theory. Structuration theory, whose point of departure is the work of sociologist Anthony Giddens, seeks to understand the creation and reproduction of social systems by analysing how these take shape within the recursive relationship between agency and structure (cf. Giddens, 1984). Importantly, in this regard, popular music can only be fully analysed within the historical context that made its existence possible and which brought forth the conditions of its further development (cf. Grossberg, 1999: pp. 215–236). Structuration theory looks to such a history to identify structures, conceived as rule-like patterns that are responsible for ensuring that cultural practices are identically reproduced over space and time. This entails that an analysis of a cultural practice (such as popular music) must look beyond the world of processes and objects to detect complex coherences. Such coherences only become apparent from a perspective that sees social institutions, conventions or standards (cf. Giddens, 1984). Thus, it is clear that popular music has in some sense developed its ‘own’ institutions (record companies, TV and radio stations, music magazines, etc.) and conventions (production techniques, styles, presentation strategies, etc.), and that these institutions and conventions ensure that the existing order of aesthetic values is relatively stable (cf. Jost & Gratwohl, 2012: pp. 134–148). In regard to popular music, the theoretical considerations adduced so far must be augmented with the salient fact that musical realities, despite structural considerations, are also always constituted from the immediate experience of the musical material. Music is capable of creating its own (emotional) truth via its sensuous potentials. Thus, in addition to aspects of agency and structuration, the question arises how music can be best understood as a stimulus constellation that affects people more or less immediately, in multiple ways. At this point the concept of materiality comes into play (cf. Gumbrecht & Pfeiffer, 1988). The material factors of cultural practices in general might include: the textures of information carriers (sound waves, light, lines on paper, etc.), the sensory modalities involved (seeing, hearing, smelling, etc.), the applied technical means (in the sense of representation methods and transmission techniques) and the symbolic orders (voice, text, image).1 In the case of popular music’s materialities, technical media are of essential importance such that modern popular music can be seen to have taken

Integrated music media analysis  203 shape in the form of records, TV and radio programs, music films and so forth. But technical manipulation is not restricted to mass media reproduction; it is also a feature of live performances, which mainly concerns the use of the microphone, the PA setup, audio-visual media and the stage apparatus as a whole (cf. Auslander, 1999: pp. 73–94). Music-based media production offers multiple options, but also instantiates multiple standards, so the dynamics of how artists (and, of course, all the other parties involved in the production process) succeed in creating a distinct product that attracts the biggest possible audience are of particular interest.

Case study: Trio These reflections on the nexus of popular music and media serve as the starting point of an analysis of the band Trio, which had success among the German public (and farther afield) with its reduced musical arrangements and quirky performances, inducing among its audience a sense for the aesthetic richness of minimal pop music. The following analytic categories will be used: media biography and image, audio, audio-vision, live performance and community formation. The goal is to show how the specific artistry of the band could emerge within a network of aesthetic, medial, economic and cultural factors. The target concept of ‘artistry’ is to be understood as a means of integrative analysis, which asserts that the specificity of a band cannot be reduced to compositional, vocal or instrumental skills. What seems rather relevant to the question of artistry is how artists – or how, in this case, Trio – act in various media settings and what entertainment strategies emerge in doing so (cf. Jost, 2012: pp. 122–129). Media biography and image Trio was literally a trio, consisting of Stephan Remmler (born 1946), Gert ‘Kralle’ Krawinkel (1949–2014) and Peter Behrens (born 1947). The band was founded in 1979 and dissolved in 1986.2 The relatively advanced age at which the three musicians began their career and success with Trio is quite striking. They had all previously played in bands, but without achieving any significant success. Success came, however, with the new group’s first album, the eponymous ‘Trio’ (1981). This was produced by Klaus Voormann, a friend of the Beatles and former bassist for John Lennon, and released (as were its follow-ups) on Mercury Records. The key to success was the lengthily titled song ‘Da Da Da ich lieb dich nicht du liebst mich nicht aha aha aha’, probably better known in short as ‘Da Da Da’. In fact, this was first issued as a stand-alone single and only added to later releases of the album. After performing the song on the then popular TV show ‘Bananas’ the band experienced a boost in popularity virtually overnight. Several TV appearances followed, including on shows that were dedicated to the schlager (see Mendívil in this book) genre. In all these performances the band members acted out a clear division of roles which eventually became the band’s trademark: Stephan Remmler, always wearing a fashionable suit jacket, was the ‘cool leader’,

204  Christofer Jost Gert Krawinkel embodied the long-haired ‘guitar hero’ and Peter Behrens paired stoical drumming with a clown-like attitude.3 But these roles, so clearly defined, also added a sense of irony to the band’s performance. This sense of irony was basically one of the characteristic aspects of the band’s work. In the case of its second album, ‘Bye Bye’ (1983), this element is very apparent in the artwork: the front and back covers are both divided into eight empty fields, a visual overstatement of the musical minimalism that had hitherto defined the band’s work, and which is further ironized by a printed note that the spaces may be used for advertisements.4 In 1985, Trio’s third and final album was released. Called ‘Whats the Password’,5 it also served as the soundtrack for the motion picture ‘Drei gegen drei’ (Three versus Three), which was shown in German cinemas later that year and featured the three band members as the main characters.6 Audio The songs on the first album, ‘Trio’, are mixed to a dry garage sound that highlights the band’s simplistic instrumentation: most of them rely only on vocals, guitar and drums. This basic instrumental line-up is occasionally augmented to include simple keyboard beats or a simple electronic organ; only ‘Da Da Da’ contains a bass part. Up-tempo songs, which combine a classic rock feel with the rowdiness of punk, dominate the album (with power chords appearing quite frequently). Despite the predominance of rocking, up-tempo pieces, the band demonstrates a considerable stylistic range that extends to adaptations of schlager, pop ballads, calypso and reggae. However, these adaptations are stylized and formulaic, and create a distinctly spoofing impression. For all its apparent simplicity, the album is also quite experimental, exemplified by the use of sound effects and ‘found’ sounds. These include a simulated telephone call, sound bites from broadcast news and football games, ringing bells, and the distorted sound of a throat microphone. On the two subsequent albums, ‘Bye Bye’ and ‘Whats the Password’, things change quite significantly: On the former, the minimalist garage rock sound is abandoned, with almost every song now involving a bass part and a variety of other ‘ingredients’ coming into play, including female backing vocals, synthesizer, accordion, a male choir, a string orchestra, electric drums and glockenspiel. The third album moves completely away from playful experimentation in favour of a massive synth sound that is built on synth brass sections, chorus guitars, reverberated drums and catchy hook lines a sound that may best be described as ‘over-produced’ (see Ismaiel-Wendt in this book). Audio-vision From a very early stage, Trio recognized the creative opportunities offered by the then emerging video clip format. Trio’s first three videos7 function as short films, noticeably integrating not only narrative elements but also environmental sounds.8 The video for ‘Da Da Da’ deserves greater attention, not only because of the status of ‘Da Da Da’ as a hit song, but also because of its structure.9 The scene for the video is set in a busy neighbourhood pub, where young and old drink together.

Integrated music media analysis 205 A band consisting of three elderly gentlemen is playing in the pub – they perform in sync with ‘Da Da Da’ on the video’s soundtrack. A TV is mounted near the ceiling of the pub; on it, another band can be seen performing on a studio show – this band is Trio. But at the same time, the members of Trio are customers in the pub. Already three levels of representation (of the band) are intertwined, a tangle that is further knotted later in the video when the Trio who are drinking in the bar take over the instruments of the pub band – although due to the video’s editing the three band members are still seen as drinking customers. Thus, Trio ‘exists’ in the video at least three times: drinking in the pub, playing as the pub band, and on the pub television. The very everyday setting of the local pub becomes the setting of an audio-visual montage, which suspends the rules of logic and common sense. This surreal filmic reality removes any sense that the video presents a traditional storyline, yet the banality of the setting – local characters in the neighbourhood pub – rejects the dream-like, hyper-realistic scenery of many music videos. Thus, the two dominant modes of the golden era of the MTV video clip are refused. Rather, a ‘Dada-realism’ is inaugurated, such that the stereotypical routines of everyday life are addressed in a surrealist or absurdist mode. The video clip is, of course, literally a tool for Trio to have its music reach into the experience of everyday people, but it also depicts within itself the intertwining of media reality and everyday life experience, marking this as a catalyst of the bizarre. Live performance Even before making any videos, Trio had already displayed an affinity for the bizarre in its stage shows. These shows are key to grasping the band’s artistic self-understanding in several respects: first, the musical proficiency of the band is revealed – the groove is tight, the vocal performance is multi-faceted and breaks and tempo changes are varied and played exactly. Second, a high degree of professionalism is apparent: while the various performance elements build the impression of spontaneity, in actual fact they are effected so precisely that significant rehearsing can be assumed. And third, a fundamental showmanship is important, and manifest in a number of ways: for example, Remmler’s singing, as just noted, is varied and he even occasionally sings with a throat mike; he also talks and interacts extensively with the audience, uses a megaphone and plays on toy instruments. For his part, Behrens comes on stage riding a scooter. The stage setup is not, on first glance, showy, being rather minimalistic: only a cocktail drum set, a guitar amplifier, a microphone (plus stands) and a mini-organ are used. However, the starkness of this setup is itself a statement, while additional touches, such as the drum set being covered by a sun umbrella, indicate the band’s ironic self-conception. Community formation Earlier in the band’s career, Trio expressed a strong connection to the band’s home (the rural area around the small town of Großenkneten in Northwest Germany). Such rootedness in locality, and in a local (music) scene, was an essential

206  Christofer Jost mark of authenticity among artists who were part of the ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’ (‘NDW’, see Hornberger in this book) that emerged at the beginning of the 1980s (cf. Hornberger, 2011). The band utilised the members’ home locale – including the provincialism that could be associated with such a rural background – as a label. Typical of Trio’s ironic mode, this symbolic label was also literalized: on the cover of the first album, the band members’ shared address and private phone numbers are given. In fact, although Trio’s pomp coincided with the ‘NDW’, the band itself always denied that it was part of that movement. However, contemporary audiences must surely have received Trio in this context, while, especially retrospectively, from the 1990s on, Trio has generally been considered a key component of the ‘Neue Deutsche Welle’, with ‘Da Da Da’ included on numerous compilations, not only of pop hits, but specifically of ‘NDW’ hits. Indeed, Trio is often perceived not just as one band among others in the ‘NDW’, but as a very important manifestation of German pop identity. A particularly striking case in this respect is the cover version of ‘Da Da Da’ by Herbert Grönemeyer – himself not only one of the most popular artists in Germany today, but also an artist taken seriously by critics, and perceived as being essential to ‘German’ (pop-) culture. The track was released in 1999 to accompany the ‘Pop 2000’ television series, a twelve-part documentary about the previous fifty years of pop music and youth culture in Germany.

Conclusion The analysis presented in this paper is a case study of the band Trio that has aimed to identify how artistic characteristics emerge at the intersection of musical expression, medial staging and social interaction. In doing so, the image of a band takes shape that combines a fresh provincial rock attitude with an elaborate show concept. The musical work of Trio contains a playful component, but this should not be confused with naiveté. The band’s recorded music and the visualizations produced or performed to go with it are an expression of a confident yet self-aware attitude towards the diversity of stylistic figurations in popular music. The band’s artistic identity is rather pieced together than born out of affection for a particular subculture or musical trend.

Notes 1 With regard to musical composition, the issue of materiality implies that the aesthetic parameters (melody, harmony, rhythm, etc.) are to be analysed in relation to the conditions of sonic production (cf. Wicke, 2010b: pp. 349–363). 2 Only Remmler achieved some continued success after the disbanding, releasing some hit singles as a solo artist. 3 Behrens was in fact a trained clown, having attended the circus school in Milan (cf. Schmidt-Joos & Kampmann, 2013). 4 In fact, several companies took advantage of this opportunity and had their ads printed on the cover. 5 The idiosyncratic punctuation (or lack thereof) is the ‘official’ title.

Integrated music media analysis 207 6 The movie is a comedy that ranges between anarchic humour and complete nonsense and turned out to be a complete flop commercially. Neither the album nor the accompanying single releases fared significantly better. 7 For the songs ‘Da Da Da’, ‘Anna – Lassmichrein Lassmichraus’ and ‘Bum Bum’. 8 Videos from later in the band’s career are more orthodox performance videos, but also remain conceptual performances, in the sense that they include unusual additional or exaggerated elements, such as excessive facial grimacing, visual effects or a performance in an atypical setting. 9 The video was directed by Dieter Meier, co-founder of the Swiss electro duo Yello.

26 Punk in Germany Philipp Meinert and Martin Seeliger

Introduction ‘Globalisation’, understood as a process of diffusion of cultural elements all across the world, is one of the most prominent terms in contemporary research on social phenomena. Just like hip-hop or reggae, the story of punk starts locally. Hip-hop spread from the back lots of New York and reggae began in the Caribbean, although this beginning is really a point of coalescence of older African roots. Likewise, the story of punk rock begins in the United Kingdom. There are a number of important competing narratives about punk, whose protagonists often include pre- or proto-punk bands from the United States such as MC5 and the Stooges from Detroit or the New York Dolls, yet the genesis of the genre is usually connected to the English entrepreneur Malcolm McLaren. Indeed, the birthplace of punk is sometimes localised to the very shop he ran, along with fashion designer Vivienne Westwood, in Chelsea in London. Punk style may have begun in that shop, but it was through managing the Sex Pistols that McLaren inspired a cohort of adolescents to establish punk: ‘deviant’ behaviour, unconventional clothing and appearance and a typical style of music. Punk may have begun in McLaren’s shop, but, appearing in an era of increasing contact and exchange between (mainly but not only) Western societies, the rate of exchange that has only increased in the four decades since the Sex Pistols’ debut – this particular set of subcultural elements has spread on a wordwide scale, and punk rock has become a global phenomenon.1

Coming to Germany The traditional hypothesis has been that globalisation will bring about a homogenous ‘world culture’ (Engels & Marx, 2008). But this has not only been challenged but also roundly rejected in contemporary debates (cf. Pries & Seeliger, 2012). A central insight of this new perspective is that genres of cultural production, subcultures, and so on, do indeed reach global circulation and are widely adapted; yet they are always adapted against the background of national (or regional) framework conditions. In this essay, we attempt to show how this process of local adaptation has taken place in the case of punk rock in Germany.

Punk in Germany 209 While the first two decades of punk’s history (1970–1990) can be regarded as the phase in which punk established itself in German popular culture, we will especially focus on the period after German reunification (for the earlier years: cf. Seeliger & Meinert, 2013). Although punk had become established as a cultural phenomenon in the 1970s in the Anglo-American sphere, the new ‘punk rock’ and the associated subculture made little impact in Germany in this decade. This is consistent with a pattern of low levels of alternative youth culture movements in Germany at that time. While various subcultures such as hippies or rockers in the United States or teds, mods and skinheads in the United Kingdom had claimed places in their national public spheres, mainstream pop phenomena had remained the main youth culture in Germany. Accordingly, even as punk made its way into Germany, the route was paved mainly by mainstream media, such as Bravo magazine, reporting about bands such as the Sex Pistols, the Ramones or The Clash, usually portrayed as the main representatives of the new genre. Germany’s typically lukewarm enthusiasm for youth subcultures notwithstanding, punk began to gain a foothold. Inspired by this mainstream cultural representation, in West Germany a punk culture (‘deutschpunk’) began to emerge as an organic, bottom-up phenomenon in the early 1980s. During this period, bands like Die Toten Hosen or Die Ärzte emerged with a rather humorous style (‘fun punk’). A number of more ‘serious’ punk bands – most prominently Slime (then based in Hamburg) – were addressing a broad range of political topics, such as war, state and police repression and environmental devastation. The central musical influences for deutschpunk stemmed from the UK and the US, the catchy melodies and hooks used by some of the bands also reveal the inspiration of German schlager (see Mendívil in this book), a popular style of music that most of the 1980s punks would have grown up listening to (not necessarily entirely by choice). In 1987, Die Toten Hosen even went so far as to release an (albeit somewhat satirical) album of schlager cover versions, ‘Never mind the Hosen, here’s die Roten Rosen (aus Düsseldorf)’.2 A rather different influence on some German punk can also be seen in groups like Canal Terror or Hostages of Ayatollah, who were inspired by hardcore, a genre of American punk that had already appeared in the 1980s.

East and West and politics In the German Democratic Republic, the punk scene was much smaller, no doubt partly due to fear of state oppression. Nonetheless, East German punk made significant contributions to the overall history of German punk. The band Schleimkeim particularly stood out with a rough but melodic style. Punk in the UK and then the USA had emerged as an alternative or counterculture. In Germany, while bands like Slime certainly took an anti-establishment stance, others, like Die Ärzte, fairly quickly developed into rather conventional participants in mainstream pop culture. Therefore, until the late 1980s, although the numbers involved were smaller than in the West, East German punk was much more of a counterculture than its Western twin.

210  Philipp Meinert and Martin Seeliger The fall of the Iron Curtain united the punk scenes from East and West Germany. After the late 1980s, reunification fostered the growth of a sub-genre that would come to be referred to as deutschpunk, standing out through a particularly raw sound and radical political lyrics. Relatively apart from the punk-related mainstream phenomena, one particular issue addressed is the growing impact of the right-wing extremists in everyday life in Germany. After a series of pogroms in the early 1990s, deutschpunk delivered the soundtrack for an antifascist countermovement, largely driven by the German punk scene. Issues addressed were clashes with (mostly skinhead-originated) Nazis, but also the reluctance of politicians to deal with the public threat of the radical right. Since the early 1980s, German punk has been affiliated with the far left scene and more political than in most other countries. Almost every punk band has at least one song protesting fascism and/or racism in their repertoire, while the commercially successful Die Toten Hosen and Die Ärtze placed anti-fascist songs in the German top ten charts (‘Sascha, ein aufrechter Deutscher’ [Sascha, a Straight German] and ‘Schrei nach Liebe’ [Scream For Love], respectively). Again, apart from the mainstream, a series of underground punk rock samplers (most famously ‘Schlachtrufe BRD’ [Battle Calls BRD] and ‘Deutsche punkinvasion’ [German Punk Invasion]) brought the genre of deutschpunk to a new level of popularity. As a consequence a number of new labels such as Plastic Bomb, Hulk Räckorz, Vitaminepillen, Höhnie Records and Impact were founded and specialised for deutschpunk and new fanzines emerged. Also, the legendary band Slime brought out a new successful record and a new generation of deutschpunk bands like WIZO or Terrorgruppe were founded and gave deutschpunk a characteristic, more poppy sound. Besides the political framework conditions which provided a fruitful ground for the development of German punk, the genre’s regained popularity also derives from the increasing influence of overseas (mainly US-based) punk rock acts. After the hype of Grunge, spearheaded by bands like Nirvana and Mudhoney, groups such as Green Day, The Offspring, and the less popular, however not less influential Rancid or NoFX, inspired a number of German artists. While some of the latter (e.g. Skin of Tears) adapted the new American style more or less wholesale, others, most importantly WIZO and Terrorgruppe, transformed these influences into a particular German sound. Once again, the catchy refrains as well as a decent level of technical sophistication served as elements of a unique style. Accordingly, big music events like the Bizarre festival saw appearances of these groups together with their mostly North American predecessors and granted the genre an ever-growing public attention.

Establishment and recent developments But at the same time the ‘traditional’ deutschpunk scene lived on. An infamous event that returned punk rock to its vulgar and provocative motivations was the chaos-days, an annual punk ‘manifestation’ in Hanover, which had its origins in the early 1980s but was then revived regularly during the 1990s. The chaos-days of 1995 were particularly chaotic, with 3,000 punks rioting, brawling with police

Punk in Germany 211 and destroying parts of the city. This 1995 event has developed into a recurring narrative of German punk-songs, glorified for instance in Die Drolls’ rowdy chant, ‘Chaostage in Hannover, da war richtig was los!’ (Chaos Days in Hannover, There Was Really Something Going On!). In the late 1990s, a phenomenon very unique to the German punk scene evolved: A political party run by punks with satirical goals, calling itself the ‘Anarchistische Pogo-Partei Deutschlands’ (APPD), participated in national elections, promoting humorous political goals such as the general access to unemployment benefits, drug use, public sex and the idea of ‘Rückverdummung’ (re-stultification) – the opportunity to get rid of education acquired only for the cause of employability. While satirical parties, such as the Loony Party, had been established before and punks like Jello Biafra had been candidates in public elections, the APPD showed a unique affiliation to the punk scene, without which it could not have emerged at all. Unfortunately, the party did not gain any parliamentary seats. The first decade of the twenty-first century brought about further internal differentiation of the German punk scene. One development is the integration of elements of electronic music into deutschpunk, most importantly by the band Egotronic from Berlin. Another development of German punk across the borders of subcultural genres was a significant interaction between punk and left-wing political rap. From groups like Anarchist Academy in the 1990s to the current ‘Zeckenrap’ (pejorative for: left-wing rap) phenomenon, significant punk inspiration can be identified in German rap. The touching points here are usually political, and often began in the German antifascist movement. In the 1990s, rap fans and punk rockers did not interact very much, mixed line-ups at contemporary underground shows indicate that the demarcation line between the genres has become much more blurred. Another line of internal differentiation demarcates so-called ‘intelligent deutschpunk’ – a particular style that stands out for (supposedly) sophisticated lyrics and a rather dramatic sound, produced mainly through the use of open minor guitar chords and screamed vocals. This sub-genre includes bands like Turbostaat or the older . . . But Alive. The style has non-punk influences such as the Smiths, Nirvana or the German Tocotronic, but typically transforms these into a sound characterised through faster tempi.

Conclusion To move to a conclusion, the history of German punk shows that the once antagonistic and even ‘degenerate’ genre has found a place in mainstream popular culture and become institutionalised to a degree, as attested to by the success of big festivals like ‘punk im Pott’, ‘Force Attack’ and ‘Ruhrpott Rodeo’, which attract tens of thousands of visitors each year. The biggest draws at festivals such as these are relatively mainstream punk bands (such as the still busy Die Ärtze and Die Toten Hosen), but Germany still has a very dynamic underground punk scene. Furthermore, this underground scene has a wider reach than before, as modern social media enable bands, clubs and mail-order merchandisers to easily communicate to large numbers of people. Also, as punk is now a genre with several

212  Philipp Meinert and Martin Seeliger decades under its belt, the scene has an intergenerational social structure that allows constant reproduction through the dialogue between older and younger members. With regard to the international transfer of punk rock in the course of globalisation, Anglo-American influences have had a clear impact on the genre’s development in the country. However, as our discussion has indicated, German punk has not adapted these influences directly and without modification. Instead, we have identified three particular features of the national adaptation of punk in Germany. First, German punk is distinctive in its references to and interactions with specifically German culture, such as its reaction to the re-emergence of right-wing social movements in the 1990s. Second, the impact of the two popular mainstream punk bands Die Ärzte and Die Toten Hosen has claimed the greatest share of public attention to punk in Germany, and consequently the perception of punk in Germany is often the perception of these two bands. Third, throughout the history of German punk, there have been significant touching points with other musical styles, such as electronic music or rap.

Notes 1 McLaren’s catalysing of the punk rock scene in England itself already included aspects of this internationalisation. In general, especially in pop music terms, there had been huge exchanges between Britain and the USA since the 1950s. In particular, McLaren was well aware of the New York Dolls, having met them while visiting New York, and even having supplied them with clothes. 2 The album title obviously refers to the name of the Sex Pistols’ album, combined with the image of red roses, typical of the sentimentality of schlager, while Düsseldorf is the home city of Die Toten Hosen but also the location of the Ratinger Hof, the pub/venue where many German punk pioneers, such as Male, started out.

27 Popular music from Austria Rosa Reitsamer

In its last issue for 2014, the German music magazine Musikexpress hailed a ‘new wave’ of austropop in its cover story, under the headline ‘Auferstanden aus Ruinen – austropop zwischen Wurst, Wien und Wanda’ (revived from the ruins – austropop between sausage, Vienna and Wanda). The story portrayed a diverse range of Austrian pop acts such as Ja, Panik, Der Nino aus Wien, Bilderbuch, Gustav, and Wanda. The article also included Conchita Wurst, winner of the 2014 ‘Eurovision Song Contest’, and the queer band Pop:sch, who are part of an emerging (trans-)local queer music scene in Austria.1 The majority of the featured ‘new wave’ of austropop bands, however, share several characteristics with musicians such as Wolfgang Ambros, Georg Danzer, Stefanie Werger and Rainhard Fendrich, who represent the epitome of ‘austropop’, a popular music phenomenon that evolved in the early 1970s in Vienna. This article2 deals with the development of austropop since the 1970s and discusses how the commercial recycling of austropop’s past since the turn of the millennium is increasingly taking on an aura of Austria’s national cultural heritage.

The beginnings of austropop Austropop was the product of a younger generation of musicians in the early 1970s, influenced by the Austrian cabaret tradition, English-speaking singersongwriters from the 1960s and the rise of the ‘Vienna Actionism’ performance art scene. This young generation of musicians rejected the traditions of German schlager and Austrian folk and folk-like music, in particular distinguishing themselves by their socially critical lyrics. These musicians and their songs, all of them sung in Viennese dialect or in German, form the basis of austropop and include songs such as ‘Da Hofa’ (About an Unidentified Corpse, 1971) and ‘Heite drah i mi ham’ (Today I’ll Kill Myself, 1975) both by Wolfgang Ambros, ‘A Tschick’ (Cigarette, 1972) by Georg Danzer or ‘Dunkelgraue Lieder’ (Dark Grey Songs, LP, 1978) by Ludwig Hirsch. Such musicians and songs were not only perceived as ‘authentic’, but also as a sign of ‘rebellion’ on the part of the Austrian youth, since the musicians appropriated the ‘rebel’ aspect of rock that was part of a larger process of the ‘Americanisation’ of Austrian society after 1945. The consumption and the appropriation of rock’n’roll, films, and other products of American

214  Rosa Reitsamer mass culture in conservative, 1950s Austria was a means for young people to distance themselves symbolically from the Nazi past and to repudiate the rigid moral values of their parents (cf. Wagnleitner, 1994). This ‘resistance through rituals’ (cf. Clarke et al., 2006: pp.  3–59) by the post-war generation seemed to have contributed to an ‘Americanisation’ of Austrian society that sought to accomplish three historical tasks in post-war Austria: first, to establish a distance between post-war Austria and its immediate Nazi past; second, to provide an antiCommunist space based on consumer culture; and third, to integrate Austria culturally, politically and economically into the market economies of the West (cf. Larkey, 1999: pp.  211–235). As such, austropop represents the ‘birth’ of the ‘Ethno-national rock’ (cf. Regev, 2007: pp.  317–341) in Austria: the music matched artistic standards set by Anglo-American artists of the late 1960s and early 1970s, and it has been perceived as ‘authentic’ through the use of Viennese dialect or German language, through the content of the lyrics and the social sources from which it emanated. As a result, with austropop, Austria gained for the first time in 1970s its own popular music identity.

Establishing austropop Throughout the 1980s, austropop took on a brighter aspect with songs such as Ambros’ ‘Schifoan’ (About Skiing, 1976), ‘Irgendwann bleib I dann dort’ (Someday I’m Gonna Stay Over There, 1985) by S.T.S. or ‘I Am from Austria’ (1989) by Rainhard Fendrich, a Viennese dialect rock anthem which became a magnet for Austrian national pride. By the 1990s, the ‘rebellious sons’, as they had been called in their youth, had already become the establishment of Austrian popular music. Their songs are now the ‘oldies’ played regularly on Austrian radio, and the musicians themselves are the recipients of cultural honours, such as the ‘Amadeus’ Award for lifetime achievement presented to Ambros in 2002. It is not entirely surprising, therefore, that younger waves of Austrian musicians have seen austropop as something to be criticized or rejected. Thus, punk- and new-wave-inspired musicians in the 1980s and 90s such as Chuzpe and Willi Warma distanced themselves from austropop musicians who seemed to have lost their socio-critical impetus, appropriating instead the do-it-yourself ethics and the (globally recognised) ‘rebel’ aspects of punk and new wave. Inspired by do-it-yourself ethics, these new bands used English for their songs and, together with other subcultural producers and fans, built their own local music scenes with venues, record labels and fanzines. This, together with the first feminist music festivals in Vienna in the 1990s and female bands such as A-Gen 53 and Astaron provided a basis, since the turn of the millennium, for the formation of a queer music scene in Austria. At the same time, however, the ‘retrospective cultural consecration’ (cf. Schmutz, 2005: pp. 1510–1523) of austropop has proceeded with the release of numerous austropop compilation albums by the Austrian subsidiaries of ‘major’ labels and the eleven-part TV documentary series ‘Weltberühmt in Österreich. 50 Jahre Austropop’ (‘World Famous in Austria: 50 Years of Austropop’, 2006)

Popular music from Austria 215 by the filmmakers Rudi Dolezal and Hannes Rossacher, which has been repeatedly shown on the Austrian public broadcaster ORF since 2006. Dolezal and Rossacher combined national histories, discourses and images in the documentary series to present austropop as part of Austria’s national cultural heritage.

Austropop as ‘cultural heritage’ The documentary series ‘World Famous in Austria’ is the result of a long-term collaboration between Dolezal and Rossacher, who claim that their documentary is the most comprehensive depiction of Austrian popular music since World War II. The documentary sets out to inscribe austropop as part of Austria’s cultural heritage, as is clear from the very first episode, ‘What Is Austropop?’. It opens with an ‘Address to the Nation’ by Rudi Dolezal, in which he proposes a ‘redefinition’ of austropop:3 In this series, AUSTROPOP represents ‘AUSTRIAN POP CULTURE’ – from Wolfgang Ambros to Christina Stürmer, from Georg Danzer to Kruder & Dorfmeister, from Attwenger to Marianne Mendt and from Falco to Opus – all of them (and many more) represent AUSTROPOP.  . . . We are talking about pop that either is/was made in Austria, or is/was produced by Austrians. (Emphasis in the original) This ‘redefinition’ does not equate austropop only with the popular music phenomenon that developed in Austria in the early 1970s, but rather embraces all popcultural productions within the borders of Austria since the late 1940s, including those musicians who consciously distanced themselves from austropop, such as the 1980s and 1990s punk-inspired bands. In the documentary, this redefinition of austropop is underlined, visually and musically, by Fendrich’s song ‘I Am from Austria’, which serves as the theme tune for the series, accompanied by pictures of the Austrian mountains and the Austrian flag. In doing so, the directors deploy the ‘Sound of Music’ image of Austria, which corresponds closely with the cultural ideology of the post-war state and became familiar worldwide following the success of the film, establishing (classical) music and nature as the cornerstones of Austrian national identity, and, moreover, Austria as the victim of Nazi aggression. The references to music, films and paintings, especially those of the three most famous Austrian painters of the modern era, Egon Schiele, Gustav Klimt and Oskar Kokoschka, by political representatives had an important impact on the construction of a new national identity after the reversal, enforced by the Allies at the end of the World War II, and on Austria’s controversial attitude to its Nazi past (cf. Pick, 2000). In the documentary, however, the discourse of Austria as the ‘first victim’ of National Socialism is not taken up. Instead the directors Dolezal and Rossacher emphasize the significance of the vernacular memory of Austria’s post-war generation. Seeing himself as a representative of this generation, Dolezal (born 1958) declares that austropop is ‘the soundtrack of our youth. [. . .] rebellious, brave

216  Rosa Reitsamer and – from a present-day perspective – maybe naive, but definitely different’. The appeal to reminiscence of this kind in the commercial recycling of austropop follows the globally circulating ‘rock as heritage’ (cf. Bennett, 2009: pp. 474–489) discourse that seeks to reposition rock musicians of the late 1960s and early 1970s ‘as key contributors to the essential character of late twentieth century culture per se and an integral aspect of the way in which this era of history is to be remembered, represented and celebrated’ (cf. Bennett, 2008: pp. 245–258). As a significant cultural product of Austria, austropop may be understood of Austria’s democratic identity after World War II and as the ‘rock heritage’ of the Austrian post-war generation. Moreover, the claim is that austropop should be recognised as an integral aspect of the national cultural heritage. For this construction two contradictory images of Austrian culture must, therefore, be connected: namely, the image of austropop as a ‘rebellion’ of the post-war generation against the Nazi past and the image of austropop as part of the official cultural (self-) image of Austria, which extols music and nature as the cornerstones of national identity but whose attitude regarding Austria’s participation in the Third Reich is ambivalent to this day. Recall the opening lines of this essay: the use of term austropop by the German music magazine Musikexpress in fact endorses the definition suggested by the Dolezal and Rossacher of austropop as a broad category of any and all pop music from Austria, but a category which assumes that such music is in fact an integral part of Austria’s cultural heritage. Yet the only unifying characteristic of some of the acts – such as Der Nino aus Wien, Wanda and Ja, Panik – mentioned in the article is the use of German or Viennese in their lyrics, while, in fact, most Austrian pop musicians also write in English or even other languages such as Turkish, Serbian or Croatian. This diversity need not imply that there is no longer a viable notion of Austrian pop music, but rather that Austria’s pop music reflects more diverse national identities than might be expected for such a small country, a cumulative artistic achievement all the more remarkable in a country where classical music remains a key identity and tourist attraction.

Notes 1 This queer music scene also includes musicians such as Crazy Bitch in a Cave and First Fatal Kiss, the record labels Comfort Zone and Unrecords, and regular music festivals (e.g. ‘Ladyfest’, ‘Rampenfiber Festival’, ‘Girls Rock Camp’), club nights and burlesque shows that call into question hetero-normative notions of masculinity and femininity with their queer styles and performances. 2 This article is a shortened version of Reitsamer (2014: pp. 331–342). 3 This text can be also found in the booklet accompanying the DVD box set.

28 From soundtrack of the reunification to the celebration of Germanness Paul van Dyk and Peter Heppner’s ‘Wir sind Wir’ as national trance anthem Melanie Schiller Introduction On October 3, 2005 Germany celebrated the fifteenth anniversary of the nation’s reunification. The festivities took place in Potsdam, where Berlin’s trance starDJ Paul van Dyk and singer Peter Heppner were the very first popular music artists invited to perform their song ‘Wir sind Wir – Ein Deutschlandlied’ (We Are We or We Are Who We Are) during the official ceremony. The version performed in the context of the official ceremonial act was a classical interpretation in collaboration with the Deutsche Filmorchester Babelsberg, which eventually granted the song an additional aura of authenticity and state approved high culture. The original version of the song, which was released a year prior to the performance, is a trance-pop celebration of ‘Germanness’ with a particular focus on post-war national achievements. The official video as well as the lyrics tell a (selective) history of the German people, which made the song widely successful but also controversial. In this chapter I underscore how ‘Wir sind Wir’ (re-)narrates ‘Germanness’ as an attempt to fix national identity and assert national pride based upon the performance of a collective past. By briefly tracing the generic ‘routes’ (as opposed to ‘roots’, cf. Gilroy, 1993) of this sonic national narrative as a trance-anthem, and by analysing its sonic, visual, and textual articulation, I aim to unravel the underlying notion of a unitary ‘Germanness’ as opposed to the excluded ‘Other’ of the nation’s traumatic history. Through a close hermeneutic reading of this video, I argue the inherent impossibility of overcoming the ‘forgotten’ past even in the most celebratory accounts of the nation as this officially sanctioned audiovisually mediated performative act.

Becoming one: the soundtrack of the reunification In post-reunification Germany, techno was significant in the negotiation of a new German identity, as its music and culture were a major factor in (re)establishing a social connection between the East and West. The sudden availability of urban

218  Melanie Schiller space (abandoned bunkers, ex-army warehouses, closed down factories, etc.; see Meteo & Passaro in this book) in the ‘transitory period of legal uncertainty in the aftermath of the collapse of the GDR’ (Robb, 2002: p. 134) facilitated the physical and symbolic encounter between the East and West German youth, and as Paul van Dyk himself highlights, techno was the first realm of social life where unification actually took place (cf. Messmer, 1998: p. 26). However, in lieu of a positive shared history and the attendant necessity of overcoming deep internal divisions, a common national identity needed to be forged. Therefore, the negotiation of Germanness through techno – initially a cultural import from Chicago and Detroit in particular  – can also be seen as a reflection of German youth’s problematic relationship to its own culture and identity in light of its complicated national past. Correspondingly, Simon Reynolds describes what he identifies as the German techno community’s obsession with Detroit (like the Tresor club’s talk of a BerlinDetroit alliance and the legendary Hardwax Record store selling T-Shirts with a 313 phone code print, to name just a few, cf. Reynolds, 1998: p. 503) as ‘a form of displaced patriotism’ (Reynolds, 1998): ‘Worshipping Detroit became a way back to embracing their own Germanness which could be comfortably affirmed because Kraftwerk and Moroder were mediated through black people (Detroit’s own Germanophilia)’ (Reynolds, 1998). In short, based on Kraftwerk’s iconic style (see Matejovski in this book) and Giorgio Moroder’s eurodisco sound (see Krettenauer in this book) as fundamentally influential for the Detroit scene, the true root of techno could be re-narrated as being ‘originally German’. Wolfgang Voigt, one of the co-owners of Kompakt (see Nieswandt in this book), for example, talks about his desire to create ‘something like a “genuinely German pop music” ’ (Reynolds, 1998); beyond the influence of Anglo-American pop (which in turn is largely based on black American music). Trance, ‘the world’s most beloved form of techno’ (Reynolds, 1998: p. 439) subsequently developed out of ‘the whitest, most Kraftwerk-derived aspects of Detroit Techno [. . .], layered on top of the least funky element in Chicago house’, and by the end of 1992, ‘this whiter-than-white sound had evolved into Teutonic trance’ (Reynolds, 1998: p. 184), since ‘producers had refined out both the black gay Disco elements of house and the hip hop/ reggae derived ruffage of hardcore’ (Reynolds, 1998: p. 440). Having now briefly sketched the connection between the ‘routes’ of techno and post-reunification German identification, as well as the strategic ‘forgetting’ of trance’s ‘black’ influences, I will continue by mapping how ‘Wir sind Wir’ as trance anthem articulates a national narrative of unity and belonging, which however ultimately failed in its attempt to ‘fix’ national identity.

Song for the Germans: ‘Wir sind Wir’ as a national trance anthem In 2004, DJ Paul van Dyk from Eisenhüttenstadt (former GDR) together with vocalist and songwriter Peter Heppner from Hamburg (FRG) collaborated in a singular (pan-German) project and released the song ‘Wir sind Wir (Ein Deutschlandlied)’: a highly repetitive trance-pop sound with only minor musical changes,

‘Wir sind Wir’ as national trance anthem 219 accompanied by the melancholic singing of Heppner, whose vocal style takes cues from his former synthpop/darkwave band Wolfsheim (see Richard in this book). Paul van Dyk himself refers to the song as an explicit reaction to a national crisis as experienced in 2004, the ‘the year of stagnation’ (cf. Geisenhanslueke, 2004), as he diagnoses that ‘we Germans have an identity problem’ (cf. Wagner, 2005). The music video, as a strategy to counter the prevailing pessimism of its time – a German ‘crisis of confidence’ – is framed as a chronological national retrospective that is documented by the protagonist (Peter Heppner), who, as a ‘timetraveling’ reporter, observes (staged) historic events while they are unfolding. Heppner highlights how he (as the credited author of the lyrics) intended to speak from the ‘minds of the people’,1 and thereby makes the national people the ‘original’ author of this narrative. Notably, the title explicitly refers to the official national anthem of the Federal Republic, which since 1922 has been ‘Das Deutschlandlied’ (song/hymn of Germany).2Moreover the video instantaneously establishes a national addressee: it opens with an image of the destroyed Reichstag in Berlin, fenced off and marked with a sign that cautions the danger of collapse. Located in 1945, Germany lies in ruins – a nation on the verge of collapse. The iconic inscription on the Reichstag building indicates the addressee of this ‘national anthem’: ‘Dem Deutschen Volke’ (to the German people). This national narrative hence begins with ‘zero hour’ and Germany as a defeated nation. Visually, a tilt shot from below to the top shows the Reichstag building as majestic, yet in ruins, both a reminder and remainder of its former glory. Only in the beginning (verse one) are the lyrics formulated in first person singular (‘As I wander through the streets’ and ‘I ask myself who we are’); thereafter they shift to first person plural in the first chorus. Considering the framing and address of the video as well as the lyrics, this ‘we’ can be understood as ‘the German people’ and the interpellation of the addressee(s) hence creates a visual and sonic community of the narrator and the narratee of the song. The song then functions as a ‘national trance anthem’ on four levels: (a) as the official ‘soundtrack’ of the reunification during the formal state ceremony in 2005; (b) in its explicit reference to the national anthem in its title; (c) its assertive claim to represent the national people, and (d) in its sonic, visual, and linguistic creation of a national ‘we’. Throughout the video – which juxtaposes a mixture of reenacted ‘historical material’ and archival images,3 the first person narrator (personified by Heppner) functions as national allegory, and his (staged) individual experience and ‘situational consciousness’ becomes more than an individual story: it is the telling of ‘the collectivity itself’ (Jameson, 1986: p. 69). The narrative of the video unfolds from rubble women reconstructing the destroyed nation – while the lyrics bemoan soldiers not returning from the front – and present Germany as a victim of this war, to an image of national comradeship and fraternity (cf. Anderson, 1991: p.  7) personified by two children standing hand in hand on a mountain of rubble. The children, symbolizing the future of this wounded nation, facing ahead, first see what the spectator soon learns in the next p.o.v.-shot: a candy bomber (American?). During the time of the Berlin blockade (April 1, 1948–May 12, 1949), the city became a major symbolic stage for the

220  Melanie Schiller international East-West conflict and the alliance between the Western Allies and West Germany against the Soviet East, which was not only made responsible for German suffering during the war, but also for its division and subsequent prolonged suffering as an incomplete nation. However, before the video recreates the construction of the wall, which finalized the nation’s divide, ‘Wir sind Wir’s’ first climax is reached in both the music and the lyrics: after a pausing of the electronic drums – which creates a moment of heightened anticipation – the (cathartic) chorus kicks in with a fuller and more pulsating sound, answers the question of identity (‘we are who we are’), and calls for national unity and endurance while it proclaims ‘no time for sadness’. Simultaneously the video’s narrative reaches the first climax in post-war German national pride: the ‘Miracle of Bern’, the national football victory against the highly favoured team of Hungary in the 1954 World Cup final. The euphoria after this unexpected victory was translated into national pride (‘we are back on the map’) and in the video the scene is accompanied by a trance crescendo that affirmatively celebrates this collective experience as a national high point, while the sound of the cheering crowd mixed into the music reinforces the shared rapture and identification. The images accompanying the beginning of the second verse portray the reconstructed city during the ‘economic miracle’ and continue with the erection of the Berlin Wall in August  1961 (musically represented as a low point): people in tearful disbelief are seen waving goodbye to their common natives, families, and friends. The historical continuity of German identity is repeatedly authenticated by the visual style as simulated historic images, and ultimately ‘Wir sind Wir’ itself is presented as being a product of the national archive: Paul van Dyk is shown sitting in a bar in the seventies, listening to his song on the radio (simultaneously the video changes to a muffled mono/tube radio sound), as it had just reached its second chorus and is about to break out into its final peak. The song, as a search for a shared identity and the ‘authentic story of the people’, is mediated back at itself and becomes a self-sustaining multi-temporal narrative in which past, present, and (implied) future collide. Not only are ‘we who we are’ now, but – according to the visual language and sonic rhetoric of the song – so ‘we have always been’ (and hence will always be). To ultimately manifest the German identity-as-one (the national ‘we’), the video and music finally reach their peak: the harmonic modulation of the chorus insinuates euphoria, which correlates with images of the fall of the wall on November 9, 1989. The video dedicates a fair amount of attention to – and historically ends its national reconstruction with – the all too familiar images of Trabbis,4 Mauerspechte,5 and an ecstatically happy crowd with a cross cutting montage of Heppner (again) participating in, documenting, and sharing the collective euphoria of the people.

The limits of the national myth Ending national history in 1989, 15 years prior to the release of the song, conveniently leaves out the wave of mainstream xenophobia and nationalist terrorism

‘Wir sind Wir’ as national trance anthem 221 in the wake of the reunification.6 This narrative also fails to mention the factual continuation of the inner-German split more than a decade later. However, most remarkable is the chosen beginning of the national myth, which excludes Germany’s darkest chapter – the Holocaust. Its exclusion is explicitly implied: ‘what was before is rather left unspoken now’, Heppner sings in the first verse. Yet, at the very end of this narrative of national achievements and overcoming of hardships, the unspeakable memory returns in an uncanny manner: the video ends where it began, at the Berlin Reichstag building. This time in its full glory again, risen from the ruins, modernized with a shining glass front and now representing a powerful ‘German people’ (again). Heppner, standing in front of the building, seems small and insignificant compared with the ‘larger whole’ of this monument of the nation. Just like in the opening, an upward tilt highlights the inscription ‘Dem Deutschen Volke’. But now, suddenly and unexpectedly, the image flickers – the film seems faulty, out of synch, and a rupture becomes visible. The image is doubled: where we just saw the bright and modernized building (in color), we now – for just a brief interstitial moment – see the ruined Reichstag (again) on the verge of its collapse (in black and white). National history is suddenly not what it seemed and re-appears as an uninvited ghost from the past that keeps haunting the nation. The vacillating between old and new is a very brief (and almost invisible) uncanny reminder of the other, ‘rather left unspoken’, past. These images and repressed memories then, as quickly as they appeared, disappear again and are superimposed by images of Heppner turning his back to the building and walking out of the frame. Finally, the music dissipates and the video ends on a (visually and musically) melancholic note: the music fades out a beat before the vocals, which results in an ‘open’ (unfinished) end, while Heppner, sitting by the typewriter, contemplates and looks out the window with a view toward the future.

Conclusion In the wake of the reunification, techno came to signify a space of encounter between East and West Germany to symbolically overcome the inner split of the nation, while trance in particular embraced its ‘white’ Teutonic derivation. A decade and a half later, ‘Wir sind Wir’ as a national trance anthem affirmatively reconstructs a national myth of achievement and commonality that relies on a representation of the nation as a holistic entity with an evolutionary narrative of historical continuity (Bhabha, 1990: p. 3). The performative exclusion of otherness (techno as ‘German’ art) in the celebration of Germanness smoothly play into the nation-state’s interest in promoting coherence and sustaining the imagined community, while adhering to popular taste. However, even though the narrative of national attainment as source of legitimized pride aims at totalizing ‘Germanness’ as fixed unity, the final uncanny repetition of repressed memory in the interstitial flickering of the doubled Reichstag reminds us that the nation, even in its most affirmative representation, is constantly and continuously constituted (and threatened) by its traumatic past.

222  Melanie Schiller

Notes 1 In an interview Heppner used the popular Martin Luther idiom ‘dem Volk auf’s Maul schauen’ (to listen to public speech). 2 Also called ‘Das Lied der Deutschen’ (song of the Germans). After the reunification, the third verse of the Federal Republic’s anthem became the official anthem for the reunited Republic. Haydn, J. (Composer, 1797), and Hoffmann von Fallersleben, A. H. (Lyricist, 1841). Das Lied der Deutschen (Deutschlandlied). 3 Director Heitmann explains the objective of the music video to imitate original historical images (in terms of atmosphere, look, and texture) as convincingly as possible, and hence to blur the difference between original and simulation in the final editing. 4 The most common vehicle in the former GDR: The Trabant. 5 So-called ‘Wall woodpeckers’ were people who chipped off pieces of the Berlin Wall as souvenirs. 6 Neo-Nazis committed a number of substantial crimes against foreigners, first and primarily in the former GDR, but also in the West: Hoyerswerda (1991); Mölln (1992); Rostock (1992) and Solingen (1993) (cf. Schildt & Siegfried, 2009: p. 498).

Part VII

Electronic sounds and cities

29 Concepts of Cologne Hans Nieswandt

Introduction If one were to write a history of electronic music in Cologne, one could focus on a tradition that is known as ‘the Sound of Cologne’. This tradition is linked to a genealogy that could be summarized as follows: Karl-Heinz – Can – Kompakt. On paper, this historical account seems straightforward enough, but in fact, it is not that simple. Although there is some evidence for a genealogy such as the one given above this – it all happened in and around the city of Cologne, some of these people associated with these projects actually worked with each other, and so on – there is also quite a bit of wishful thinking here, an attempt to put complex developments in a nutshell for the sake of cultural marketing. People in Cologne just like that idea. After all, ‘the Sound of Cologne’ was also the name of a series of compilations of local, mostly minimal techno funded by the city and with liner notes discussing this sound in terms of genealogy given above. This kind of approach bestows gravitas and cachet, and this, in turn, improves the reputation of a city that has nurtured such an important music tradition for a long time. The Department of Culture of the City of Cologne was, to be sure, not the first to make this connection. Artist Holger Czukay (of Can) got hip to it quite early on, too, especially to the more unconventional, underground-oriented drum’n’bass and techno producers and journalists of the city. Many heads pointed out this connection. I was an editor at the magazine Spex at that time, that is, around 1992 and 1993, and to us, it was partly obvious, partly nonsense, that klangkunst, krautrock (see Papenburg in this book), and techno of the early nineties, a very pop-cultural thing, would have a lot in common with each other. With hindsight, the story makes much more sense. Twenty years later, after everything that has happened and has been discussed since then, the line of descent that was first described in the nineties can now be seen much more clearly.

A short history of the sound of Cologne, part one: Karl-Heinz Stockhausen Karl-Heinz Stockhausen, the German post-war pioneer of serious serial electronic composition, was not into pop or groove or party; far from it. He was very serious,

226  Hans Nieswandt but not as a raver, and this fact already makes the very beginning of the presumably straightforward history of electronic music in Cologne in the early fifties much more complicated than people would like it to be. Current adopters of his line of electronic composition even challenge the very successful appropriation of the term ‘electronic music’ by loop-oriented dance music producers by coining a new expression for their approach: ‘Noise of Cologne’. Stockhausen was, in fact, very interested in loops, but you would not recognize them as such. He sped up his tape loops of short segments of pure sinus sound so much that it became just one endless note, which then would become part of or even the composition itself, as described, for example, in Tilman Baumgärtel’s book ‘Schleifen: Zur Geschichte und Ästhetik des Loops’ (The History and the Aesthetics of Loops). Supercool, from a modern hipster’s point of view, a world that Stockhausen would have surely detested. His mind-set was that of a rebel or, rather, an opponent within the world of classical composition, and it had been formed in the aftermath of World War II. One of the consequences of this event was, for Stockhausen, that it was impossible to continue the tradition of the now toxic Viennese classical music, that it was absolutely necessary to overcome this corrupted, polluted form of music. This, of course, was not much of an issue for the producers of techno in the 1990s, who, at first, did not care a lot about either ‘neue musik’-nerds or krautrock-hippies. Since then, the lines have been blurred. A deeper sense of and interest in history emerged when people began to construct a history of techno. Nowadays, early electronics, krautrock, and hippie dance music are rather popular reference points in the Cologne producer scene.

A short history of the sound of Cologne, part two: Can Let’s have a look at the krautrock icons Can then. One could argue Irmin Schmidt and Holger Czukay, two core members of this famous and highly influential German progressive rock band, were Stockhausen students. In light of the fact that the work of Can and of Stockhausen has been widely reviewed and examined in numerous journalistic and academic texts (cf. Stubbs, 2009, 2014), this kind of argument may, at first, seem overtly simplistic, and listening to their repetitive groove jams, one would be hard pressed to perceive the influence of Stockhausen. Maybe it’s the artistic attitude they learned from him, the dedication, drive, and relentlessness with which to pursue an idea and to turn it into reality. Can were pretty relentless in their heydays, and they are rightly regarded as early masters of the hypnotic trance groove, repetitive, stoic beats, and consciousness-altering and danceable jams. But they were much more cherished in the UK than in Germany in this respect. I remember a techno 12″ from Manchester from the midnineties called ‘Liebezeit’ in honour of Jaki Liebezeit, the legendary drummer of Can, who is booked by tasteful people such as Depeche Mode to the present day, but never really clicked with the drum-programming-oriented world of techno producers, but not because he could not keep the pace with machines. Producing techno today is very much about being able to do it all by oneself and not having

Concepts of Cologne 227 to interact too much with others, especially with noisy people such as drummers, who don’t fit in and are too loud anyway for your little digital bedroom studio. In this respect, Can do indeed belong more to the world of Progressive rock than to DJ culture, which is a central dimension of Kompakt, the Cologne record label that became synonymous with the legendary minimal techno sound commonly associated with Cologne.

A short history of the sound of Cologne, part three: Kompakt Kompakt started as a record shop for DJs. First, it was not even called Kompakt. It was the Cologne branch of a Frankfurt techno and trance shop called Delirium. I lived across the street from the shop and hung out there a lot. It was 1994, the glory days of mass techno, and everybody was a DJ or a wanted to be one. Everyone bought 12″ vinyl records for ten to fifteen euros apiece. Every week, ten to twenty records or more had to be bought by those who were DJs with many bookings. The scene was thriving, there was money to produce more records independently, and during this gold rush, many people founded many local enterprises of sometimes astonishing size, not only in Cologne, but in all the big cities of Germany, even in the backwoods and, of course, in Berlin. Some of them are still around: BPitch, International Deejay Gigolos, Disko B, Freude am Tanzen, Traum, Trapez, to name just a few. The favourable economic conditions of modern Germany affected the development of Cologne in general and German electronic dance music in particular. Individuals in the Black Forest were able to afford US import vinyl from Detroit, and the same people would subscribe to flourishing independent music magazines such as Spex or Groove or De:Bug. This situation is a good example of the kind of positive impact the interaction between music making and music criticism can have when both sides are enthusiastic for the cause: lots of innovative music came out, everybody wanted good reviews, so everybody worked really hard on their tracks. This kind of media landscape also offers more possibilities for communicating ideas beyond anonymous instrumental tracks. You had a forum for your ideas and references. You could add characters, fascinating personalities who worked like pop stars, with visual dimensions, haircuts, and accessories. The role models for the pop icon DJs of today, for example David Guetta, were essentially created at that time. When Delirium in Cologne closed on Gladbacherstraße and reopened the next month in 1998 on Brabanterstraße as Kompakt, the staff had understood all of this. They anticipated this development, but now they also had the resources to create a world that was and still is really a pop dream. Yes, pop. Wolfgang Voigt and Jörg Burger, the ‘Marx and Engels’ of the Kompaktset of ideas, were very much children of Marc Bolan’s glam rock teenage revolution and then greatly influenced by the events of 1982, the year defining (post punk) pop at the heights of its possibilities in terms of chart-topping left-wing potentials. Stylish socialist intelligence was, at least in the UK, taken to the Top Ten. By, let’s say, Dexys Midnight Runners or Scritti Politti. When Scritti Politti

228  Hans Nieswandt performed live at the Cologne ‘Weekend’ festival in 2013, they were all there in front of the stage, the entire Kompakt posse, almost fainting from sheer bliss. But Kompakt is, of course, much more than the duo of Burger and Voigt. From the Delirium days on, it all was handled as a collective, a whole bunch of people, a posse, a form of spirited organisation bordering on the layout of a sect (even with a vegetarian agenda), but also a company. At the end of the day, it was owned by Wolfgang and his younger brother ‘sweet’ Reinhard Voigt, Jörg Burger, Jürgen Paape, and Michael Mayer, who, as one of Germanys great, nice, and authentic DJs, did a lot in terms of outside representation and inside repertoire-defining for the label. He grew from boy to man while at Kompakt, if you will. This is also true for many other artists: Superpitcher, Matias Aguayo, Schaeben & Voss – they eventually became label owners, a career also chosen by rejected Cologne artists, those who never got or never wanted to release on Kompakt at all and who were thus forced to found their own outlet. The defining years of Kompakt in the late nineties were fuelled by the energy of a club culture that had firmly established itself as a network that could nurture an astonishing number of artists (and their posses) in many ways. Most importantly, it made it possible to realize grand pop dreams. To move into an entire house. To open up a record store. To have your own label with a design department, booking agency, etc. plus a kitchen with your own (vegetarian) chef on the first floor. To have high-end studios in the basement. It’s really amazing how it all worked out. It shows the power of following a vision that you believe in. Stockhausen may have approved of that.

The Kompakt-concept It was and is all about seriality, that is, as everybody knows, serials work. Nothing beats great serials. You always want to know how the story continues. The people behind Kompakt invented all kinds of series besides the mother brand. Wolfgang Voigt started ‘Studio 1’, a series of long, repetitive, minimal click-clacking tracks without titles, just a label in a different colour for each new release. Incredibly influential. Another platform was called Speicher, which could be translated as reservoir, storehouse, or even memory, and it was invented for tracks that were supposed to be huge: huge productions for huge venues. Then there was Profan. It was anything but what the name suggested. Many of the records that were released by Profan were strange and eerie, crackling, and hazy. It was their platform to experiment, and thus, it played a considerable role when it came to the perceived connection to the early days of Cologne electronic exploration, the days of Stockhausen. I am not sure if he had ever actually heard Kompakt music. Every now and then, people would try to confront him with the latest drum’n’bass or ambient noise or whatever kind of music that might be of interest to him, but as far as I know, he always was disgusted. Of all the great ideas that were born at Kompakt, probably the most effective had nothing to do with music. It was connecting the dots. It was, in fact, inventing the dot. As a graphic designer and friend of the house of Kompakt, Bianca Strauch played a major role in making the label an international brand characterized by

Concepts of Cologne 229 a strong, but gentle, unaggressive German flavour. While the music sometimes made you think of Wagner, the designs made you think of Bauhaus and Braun. Very clear, very functional, and yet somehow poetic and very pop – optimized, anti-virtuous. Reducing the image of a record to a simple dot, one that you can repeat in endless shades of colours for seriality’s sake, turned out to be a brilliant move. Adding hints of Germanic imagery such as heraldic animals not only gave the label a certain political edge, it also worked brilliantly in combination with German words Kompakt used to name their projects and track titles.

Kompakt as part of a cultural program The Goethe Institute, which essentially has the same function as the British Council and which is required by the German government to offer German language classes and cultural programs abroad, has a huge network of around 150 institutes worldwide. I had the honour and pleasure to visit quite a few of them to do workshops, to perform gigs, or to complete projects. In most cases, I was asked to (re)present cutting-edge electronic music from Germany. Kompakt was, of course, a major player in this respect at that time, especially because of their knack for working with cubistic-looking German words and expressions, their ability to convey several dimensions of German identity. For a project by the Goethe Institute in a museum in Rio de Janeiro in 2004, I put a few of them in a sequence so that they worked just like a poem: Eng Not Gas/ Irre Unter Null/ Sofort Mittendrin Privat Im Mineral/ Konkret Überall Heller Klang Ring Frei/ Neuland Freiland Doppelleben/ Hier Und Jetzt Jetzt Erst Recht/ Im Wandel Der Zeit So Weit Wie Noch Nie. (Narrow Misery Gas/ Insane Below Zero/ Immediately Right In The Middle Private In Minerals/ Concrete Everywhere Bright Sound Clear The Ring/ Virgin Soil Open Land Double Life/ Right Here And But Now/ In Change Of Time As Far As Never). You could continue this sequence for ages. As this example shows, they developed an astonishing inventiveness or, rather, instinct for pairing sounds and words in what is essentially instrumental music. Wolfgang Voigt’s playful ambivalence about possibly iconic and maybe even ambivalent things like forests, deer, and other staples of classic German romantic imagery comes across as deep and serious. At the same time, he insists on the joys of raving, the hedonist techno ethics he discovered in the late eighties and subsequently defined as timeless, as something you can grow old with.

A layout for life defined by music Believing in the power of a layout for life defined by music in this manner is, of course, also very pop. Lately, Kompakt has offered definitions of what this could

230  Hans Nieswandt sound like, which are even closer to the tradition than ever before, especially with the releases by the classical composer and pianist Gregor Schwellenbach, who did adaptations of famous Kompakt tracks for its twentieth anniversary and performed them at the Philharmonie in Cologne. Kompakt has become very serious, but not only as ravers anymore. Then there is Justus Köhncke, maybe the most ‘pop’ artist in the entire Kompakt catalogue, who has worked with Can’s Irmin Schmidt on TV and movie soundtracks, mainly crime, for more than fifteen years. This collaboration dates back to a project called Whirlpool Productions, to which Justus Köhncke belonged (in addition to Eric D. Clark and I). The group had connected to the late, legendary Can studio outside of Cologne in 1995, where they produced three albums in a hauntologist’s dream atmosphere, which was very much 1975.

Conclusion Seen from this perspective, the idea, discussed at the beginning of this essay, that there is a tradition that is indebted to Stockhausen makes some sense indeed. Of course, Kompakt is much more fun to many more people than Karl-Heinz could ever be or aspired to. What still connects them, and Can, is the ability to make serious contributions to a global music culture despite being based in a city that is hardly known for seriousness, that is usually quite content with itself, with carnival, beer, and the local dialect, all guarded over for centuries by the huge Catholic church at its centre, the Dom. This is, of course, an environment that demands intellectual and cultural dissent, and this oppositional tradition has also been nurtured since the the Roman occupation. As parts of this much older tradition, Karl-Heinz, Can, and Kompakt are, of course, all absolutely indispensable.

30 Who said it’s got to be ‘clean’? Stereotypes, presets and discontent in German electronic sound studios Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt It is, of course, nonsensical to compile a narrative tracing the origins of electronic (dance) music back to Germany. The international influences, the diversity of styles, the global movements of the key protagonists, together with the technology itself, are self-evident. Yet forging Germany-centric narratives linking Stockhausen to Miles Davis, Kraftwerk to Africa Bambaataa, and Detroit techno or NWDR Studio to dub is apparently the pastime of Germany’s ‘Little electronic Musicians’ Favorites’ (Hindemith, 1930). Although easy to deconstruct, the apparently official imprimatur of the label ‘Elektronische Musik aus Deutschland’ (electronic music from Germany [EMAD], cf. Goethe Institut) is invoked, with great regularity by cultural players, musicians, music journalists and academics (cf. N.N., 2000). Indeed, rare is the historiography of music which has been able to resist devoting at least a few pages to networking the ‘pioneers’ in Berlin and Cologne, in the Siemens studio for electronic music and in the Kling-Klang Studio or negotiating the so-called avant-garde and new music into close proximity with techno and minimal house (cf. Shapira, 2006). Of course, influences from Detroit or Paris are also cited. A broad range of writer and commentators exhibit no discernible reluctance to highlight these German-dominated networks – for example the ‘minimal-continuum Germany’ recently identified by Sean Nye (cf. 2013: pp. 154–185) – despite the quite evident international connections that must be ignored to do so. The central task of the following essay is not to debunk the confused narrative of German music history outlined above. Instead it seeks to determine how this nation narration has shaped the behaviour of today’s electronic dance music (EDM) producers,1 and how they relate to the narrative and its associated stereotypes. Thus, the hypothesis I wish to investigate is this: In numerous interviews in which the German EDM producers shed an insight into their work, one can hear a (latent) positioning of their own production techniques vis-à-vis EMAD.

EDM’s voltage amplifications/tensions In his contributions to the ‘Debates on the Legacy of German Techno’, Sean Nye (2013) formulated a problem with the continuum narrative, which, he remarked in passing, is (re-)producing ‘cultural associations’ (p. 165).

232  Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt Links between minimal music and stereotypes of German reserve, rationality, and exactitude have repeatedly been made, even though minimal music reflects diverse moods (passion, humor, fun, etc.), artistic practices, and origins. Kraftwerk is the central example of these kinds of associations. (Nye, 2013: p. 165f.) How do EDM producers respond to these clichés, or as a producer might have it, presets of ‘German reserve, rationality, and exactitude’? Serving as an interesting qualitative source of initial impressions tending in this direction is a section in the German magazine Groove, which is quoted below.2 For many years this magazine for ‘Elektronische Musik und Clubkultur’ (electronic music and club culture, per its subtitle) featured a section called ‘Studio Report’ or sometimes simply ‘Im Studio’ (inside the studio). These articles visit a diverse range of producers and teams of producers in their studios; ask them about their production strategies, and about their preferred music programs, instruments and effect devices. Photos portraying the producers in their studios together with their fetishized analogue drum machines, synthesizers, tape recorders and their audio monitors accompany the profiles. Below is a compilation of a number of quotations from the ‘Studiobericht’/‘Im Studio’ section which I have interpreted as evidence of Nye’s ‘cultural associations’. Initially I’ve gathered statements which refer to the (unspoken) tensions that perhaps are always intrinsic to networked productions involving the intensive collaboration between human and non-human actors, as is the case with EDM. The media theorist Hartmut Winkler (2010: p. 17) posits that ‘Automatisms are the antithesis of free-will, control and self-control and of awareness’. Somewhat paradoxically, in almost every issue of Groove magazine, the featured EDM producer will display at least one defensive reaction to ceding control to the machines, algorithms, and the uncreative input of program masks (cf. Jenkinson, 2013: p. 76; Schmidt, 2014: p. 66). In a genre defined by its use of technology, technology still symbolizes obedience, sterile exactitude, nonintuitiveness, and invariability – against all of which the human actors are continually working. Examples [transl. JR; italics added by JIW]: Im Studio: Bernd Friedmann, Studio in Berlin Despite the infinite number of possibilities, in terms of technical production, electronic music appears to me today to be standardized. (Numinos, 2012: p. 78) For example, the Roland R8 is known as the ‘Human Rhythm Composer’ – yet in order to program in an odd value, you have to infiltrate the system. (Numinos, 2012: p. 79)

Who said it’s got to be ‘clean’?  233 Im Studio: Machinedrum (Travis Stewart), Studio in Berlin The Groove journalist, Eric Mandel (2013), writes: ‘When playing live every Ableton user is confronted with the issue of the controller. No one wants to look like an office worker on stage.’ (p. 83). This point is corroborated in the same paragraph by Machinedrum, who says: ‘A step-sequencer gives more of this livejam feeling which you simply can’t generate with the mouse’ (Mandel, 2013). ERIC MANDEL:  ‘A touch of echo here, a loop effect there – added to this, you have to imagine a drummer accompanying the live setup, who lends the name Machinedrum a completely new twist: machine versus drums’ (Mandel, 2013: p. 84). Im Studio: Legowelt (Danny Wolfers), Studio in Scheveningen (Netherlands) The Groove journalist, Numinos (2013a), notes: ‘Legowelt once had a Tascam mixing console which he gave away because he found the “sound became too clinical” ’ (p. 76). LEGOWELT:  ‘Even in the silent passages, the noise shows that something is on, that something is still happening’ (Numinos, 2013a). NUMINOS COMMENTS:  ‘In all his drum sounds, this effect box [a compressor sustainer] ensures the typical “thwack” and “punch” is there’ (Numinos, 2013a). Studiobericht: Mouse On Mars (Andy Toma  & Jan Werner), Studio in Düsseldorf (now Berlin) ANDY TOMA:  ‘The

Soundcraft [mixing console] distorts beautifully’ (Numinos, 2009: p. 68). The Groove journalist, Numinos again, writes that the Mouse On Mars^ studio has some equipment that is designed to ‘lend the productions a warm, analogue sound. This is ideal for masking the fact that more recently many of the sounds from Mouse On Mars derive from the computer’ (Numinos, 2009). JAN WERNER:  ‘The constraints must not be imposed by the equipment. [. . .]. Although sometimes you are no longer aware of the degree to which you are being controlled by the technology or how far the interface designers of Native Instruments have once again managed to entice you onto their terrain’ (Numinos, 2009). These quotations reveal a typical insider-speak, which at first glance doubtless appears neutral in regard to my initial working thesis that EDM actors are positioning themselves (latently) vis-à-vis the EMAD narrative. The pictures created of the producers are also, of course, strongly influenced by the interviewer (usually Numinos), who both asks the questions and reports the answers. Nevertheless, of particular interest in these statements – and they represent just a tiny fraction of the hundreds of similar examples which could have been cited – are a particular set of metaphors which constantly recur. The producers, over and over again, evoked metaphors intended to represent (their own) EDM as non-sterile, (humanly) flawed and imperfect (cf. Numinos, 2014: p. 83), organic and determined by human creativity.

234  Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt To counteract the ‘clinical’ impression produced by EDM’s machines, they go in search of sounds which ‘really distort’, hiss dirtily or ‘breathe’ (Numinos, 2013b: p. 80), and they seek beats which ‘pulsate’ or ‘pump’ like a heartbeat with a resounding ‘thwack’ and a ‘punch’. The sterility of digital technology is contrasted with the feel of ‘real’ instruments in the hands of live performers, or ‘concealed’ beneath ‘warm’ analogue sounds. Technology and its designers are imagined as ‘seducers’ whose wiles must be resisted with cunning and stealth. The human actors are unmistakably ambivalent about their own techniques and technologies. Neither technology nor human concerns about technology are specifically German, so in the context to EDM it seems that this insistence on an organic aesthetic and on ultimate human control is best read as a general discontent within the wider culture of electronic (dance) music and not as something typically ‘German’. And indeed, it is easy to find expressions of a desire for ‘dirt’ and of resistance to the ‘exactitude’ from producers from various countries and with diverse stylistic preferences.3 However, in the next section I will indicate that this discontent is at least sometimes associated in rather specific ways with German (dance music) stereotypes and cultural contexts.

EDM’s ghost track Ultimately I can only find isolated – albeit recurrent – evidence illustrating that the dilemma confronting so many EDM practitioners is somehow associated with being stereotypically German. Below I have collated a number of exemplary quotations from Groove magazine which, in and of themselves, do not necessarily represent an equivocal reaction to the German-made EDM narrative. However, I maintain that within such a collection of statements one can discern a mind-set and an aesthetic concept reflecting stereotypical German EDM attitudes: Studiobericht: Mouse On Mars JAN WERNER: 

‘Free-will and self-indulgence must prevail – you can’t allow yourself to be constrained by anyone or anything’ (Numinos, 2009: p. 68). JAN WERNER:  ‘I think that we do have a certain sound-liberation aesthetic – although we lack the confidence to adhere to a genuine dogma’ (Numinos, 2009). Im Studio: Legowelt JOURNALIST NUMINOS (2013A) WRITES OF LEGOWELT:  ‘[The]

Dutchman’s productions are characterized by a deliberate gliding, distortion and patinating of the sounds.’ (p. 75).

Studiobericht/ Alter Ego (Roman Flügel and Jörn Elling Wuttke), Studio in Darmstadt ‘IN GERMANY ONE IS CONFRONTED IN MANY TRACKS BY AN UNBELIEVABLE BIEDERKEIT’4 (Numinos, 2007: p. 74).

Who said it’s got to be ‘clean’?  235 NUMINOS WRITES: 

‘Notwithstanding all the sound experimentation, it is important to realize that at Alter Ego – in contrast to the majority of the “lone techno-warrior” – they work as a producer duo. That such beneficial alliances particularly in Germany (in stark contrast to England) are more the exception is actually quite perplexing’ (Numinos, 2007: p. 75) ROMAN FLÜGEL:  ‘Since we started going to clubs we set great store on producing tracks which contain an element of surprise, something bizarre or fucked-up. This aspect is sadly lacking among many producers in Germany. It’s different in England, where, particularly due to Drum’n’Bass, the scene is much more frenetic and hardcore, whereas here people tend to withdraw into their ketamine-induced after-hour solo raves’ (Numinos, 2007). ROMAN FLÜGEL:  ‘I think that “club” also implies “transgressing boundaries”. And the accompanying it should do just that – sometimes extending beyond the boundaries of good taste. Otherwise we are staging some kind of party conference for the Conservative party, [. . .] which would spell the end for me’ (Numinos, 2007). Only rarely in the studio reports is there such an explicit link to Germany as made by the producer duo Alter Ego. Whereas back in 2007, the stereotype of ‘German Biederkeit’ was still being ostentatiously and directly reproduced, in recent years it has no longer been articulated with such bluntness in the Groove studio reports. What is conspicuous amidst all these statements, however, is the almost habituated – automatic – insider-speak calling for ‘Kaputtheit’ or ‘distortion’ for EDM. Among the key expressions peppering these interviews are ‘racket’, ‘dogmatic’, ‘Conservative party conference’, ‘lone warrior’, ‘downfall’, along with appeals for the music to be ‘human’, ‘warm’, ‘self-indulgent’ – replete with the unspoken antonyms. Within a ritualized EMAD narrative, such an approach, allied to the above cited comments on ‘enticement’, ‘clinical’, ‘office worker’, evoke – probably not only in me – the following associations and the admittedly exaggerated stereotypes: the man-machine discourse must not be allowed to convey the impression that fascistic (cf. Sander & Werner, 2005: p. 63), executive penpushers – Nazis – perceive something with the vitality of music in terms of arithmetic values, and are only performing logistical tasks like an ‘clerical assistant’. No one, and certainly not the above cited producers or journalists, would make such a crass statement. And the statements tend rather to underscore that the actors are working against these stereotypes. The numerous ongoing discussions, for example, in reference to Kraftwerk’s music (see Matejovski in this book), titles or covers and their ostensible ‘Nazi aesthetic’ together with the band’s ironic negation of it, clearly illustrate, however, that these connotations are not so far fetched (cf. Albiez & Lindvig, 2011: pp. 15–43; Adelt, 2012: pp. 359–374). The selective collation of these quotes, taken deliberately out of context, is intended to demonstrate the following: one dilemma within the rather overstated historiography of electronic music from Germany lies in the fact that the general tensions generated by automated production techniques are ultimately being Germanized. Either way, the ritual, sample-like reintroduction of elements of the EMAD narrative, spread across a range of informants, has created EDM’s ghost track: it is

236  Johannes Ismaiel-Wendt not a hidden track, in the sense that it is concealed at the end of the medium. It is a ghost track which, whilst not listed on the music’s packaging, re-sonates throughout. If we take the producers at their word, we can also hear it constantly in the dance tracks: and then pulsating, analogue mojo, noise, tape-saturation and liveediting no longer simply stand for a sound aesthetic or a performance concept, but at the very least also for an aesthetic of liberation from ‘German Biederkeit’. Translation by John Rayner

Notes 1 Below I shall use the term ‘electronic dance music’ (EDM) to refer primarily to music which is characterized by an essentially electronic means of production, and then by extension to the discourses negotiated by the various electronically influenced types of music. EDM is sometimes used to indicate more specific stylistic or aesthetic subgenres within electronic music overall, but I am not using it in this way. 2 The magazine De:Bug could equally have served as a source. 3 Adding ‘dirt’ (noise and distortion) is an aesthetic topos that can be heard in many musical styles, ranging from blues, through jazz and rock, to punk and heavy metal. 4 There is no exact English translation for the German term ‘Biederkeit’, which refers to persons who are parochial, over-conventional, judgmental, non-progressive, closedminded (no positive connotations like ‘Biedermann’).

31 The Berlin sound of techno Daniel Meteo and Sandra Passaro

Introduction If you want to talk about techno (music), you need to talk just as much about sound and rhythm as about the environment in which techno developed as a musical genre, an attitude or, better yet, pop music/culture. We want to talk about the circumstances and the matrix under the phenomenon techno as a cultural movement that could form/sprout and grow. In his book ‘Über Pop-Musik’, author and journalist Diedrich Diederichsen (2014) claims that pop music (here: techno) cannot be separated from its contexts and intertextualities. Pop music is the association of images, performances, music (generally popular), texts and experiences linked to actual persons. (p. xi) Listening to Diederichsen’s words, then listening to Berlin, we hear that the Berlin techno sound is more of a dialect than a sound in a strictly musicological sense.

Approaches Being active in the Berlin electronic music scene has inadvertently provided the authors of this article with access to many years of field research. We set out to find the sound of Berlin techno, but found ourselves on the trail of a dialect, a dialect that is local, social, political, architectural and, of course, pop-cultural. The search for clues primarily means unearthing the essential features of techno, the very beginnings of the sound and the conditions from which techno emerged in Berlin – the multitudinous factors which came together and gave shape to Berlin techno. To make sense of these clues, we take an interpretative, ethnological approach to portraying the history of the emergence of techno in Berlin in which a ‘Berlin Sound of Techno’ – as a body, entity or archetype of all its subgenres – manifests itself.

Backgrounds This discussion assumes that techno is a distinct genre – and it is; but it is also a fissionable genre that has long been, almost since its very beginnings, broken

238  Daniel Meteo and Sandra Passaro into endless segments and subgenres. These subgenres are predominantly defined by local differences that remain clearly distinguishable from one another to this day: Chicago house, Detroit techno, Miami Bass, the Sound of Cologne (see Nieswandt in this book). Therefore, is there a ‘Sound of Berlin’ that has grown out of a local aesthetic and environment? And, if so, where does it come from? Why can this sound be ascribed to a specific place? Cologne artist Wolfgang Voigt (aka Mike Ink, Love Inc, Gas, Science Wonder, etc.) answers such questions by dismissing them: ‘Techno has no address.’ But the authors suspect that maybe it has a post code . . . The discovery of the Berlin techno sound in this article is informed by four main sources: thus, from observations gathered through authentic participation, we are able to provide, as Clifford Geertz (1973) called it in ‘The Interpretation of Cultures’, a ‘thick description’ of the Berlin techno scene (pp. 5–10). Additional ethnological interviews were conducted with some of the relevant protagonists of the early techno scene: Andrea Wünsche (Magnet Booking), Dimitri Hegemann (Tresor Club, Tresor Rec., Interfish Rec., Fishlabor), Ellen Fratz aka Ellen Alien (BPitch Control), Wolfgang Voigt (aka Mike Ink), Love Inc, Gas, Science Wonder (Kompakt, Force Inc., Profan), Mo Loschelder aka DJ Mo (Elektro Club, Elektro Music Department Rec.) Thomas Fehlmann (The Orb, Palais Schaumburg, 3MB, Teutonic Beats Rec.), Tom Thiel (Fischerman’s Friend, Sun Electric, Bus) and many more. Everybody received the same questions. After receiving the questionnaires the authors followed up with conversations with [some of] these eyewitnesses from these early days. The book ‘Klang der Familie’ (The Sound Of Family) by Felix Denk and Sven von Thülen further served as an empirical source. This book consists of individual and group interviews with nearly everybody involved in the Berlin techno scene from the very beginning in 1988; theme, places, club and emotion structure its text. In addition to literature, our sources also include music/tracks.

Developments Everyone agreed that Berlin techno, from the very start of the scene in the mid to late 1980s, developed quickly into a thing in itself, and for fans of techno, whether by the word they refer to a style of music, a musical and cultural interest or a techno event or party, found in it something self-contained, its elements (records, DJs, dancing, lights, rooms, locations [clubs/venues], escapism) always cohering into a particular type of whole. All this combined creates something very old, which is called la Fête and which is quite different from Amusement or Distraction: a whole apparatus of sensations destined to make people happy, for the interval of a night. What is new is this impression of synthesis, of totality, of complexity: I am in a place sufficient unto itself. (Barthes, 1987: p. 48)1

Berlin sound of techno  239 To talk about techno is not, then, merely to talk about music, but instead to engage with pop music in the sense offered by Diederichsen (2014) – because, in his view, ‘pop music is [more than just] an exception from within the broader subject area of music but rather “another kind of subject” ’ (p. xi) altogether.

The fall of the Berlin Wall/free spaces/clubs With the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, many of the city’s spaces, both indoor and outdoor, lost the function (and supervision) that had been assigned to them, especially by the East German state, and temporarily became more or less extralegal spaces. Various subcultures promptly took over many of these places as free spaces. Berlin, therefore, in 1989 and the early 1990s, offered an enormous field of possibilities and an undiscovered country of deserted areas, grim industrial buildings, foul basements and opportunities – something like an empty lunar landscape, open for exploitation. But this lunar landscape had an atmosphere, one of breakdown, of not just one, but two competing systems and political powers, and hence of freedom. One manifestation of this concept of freedom was a protected, collective space shaped out of the boundless city by ravers/clubbers  – a space that they animated, affirmed and defined by a new sound called techno. Unlike the historical developments that took place in New York City, Chicago or postMotown Detroit, Frankfurt, Cologne and the British rave megacities, techno came to be perceived in Berlin as something completely revolutionary, inseparable from the places where raves happened; but also building on a local music culture that followed the melancholic rock of the new wave scene, Einstürzende Neubauten, Nick Cave, Hansa Studios and the David Bowie legacy of Jungle ‘Ex n Pop’, as a Studio 54–socialization. Much in this spirit, the early days of Berlin techno were all about a display of toughness, raves happening in bunkers and amid demolition, ravers wearing hoodies and camouflage pants. The term ‘shrinking cities’ proved to a large extent to be incorrect, but it was hard to overlook the initial affinity between Berlin after the fall of the Wall and the abandoned Motor City of Detroit. In terms of space, the club ‘Tresor’ in particular signified a certain atmosphere: a thick concrete structure in a no man’s land at the time in a broken down city. The citizens of Berlin, suddenly reunited, felt a scepticism that was soon to be combined with the vibe of a constant influx of newcomers, strays, freaks and adventurers from across the entire country. Interviews with collaborators from the early days in the book ‘The Sound of Family’ also draw attention to the transgender expression or hyper-sexuality of the participants – queer, transgender, hetero, homo, soldier, worker, whore, pimp, bouncer – all of these types came together to form the initial parties, with no regard for boundaries. The rush of drugs and getting wasted were an immensely important aspect in the early years of techno and raves in Berlin, enhancing the feeling of rapture, and sense of belonging experienced by all of the people in the space and at the party. It opened the door to another partying policy that turned the conventional

240  Daniel Meteo and Sandra Passaro ways upside-down. And by the time the ‘after-hour’ party was conceived, drug use had taken on equal importance among all of the other aspects – the sound of techno in Berlin was not so much a sound as an event, an event in a city of unused spaces, transformed by techno clubs into free spaces where, spurred by music’s energy, and aided by Ecstasy, any or every sort of person could experience togetherness and joy. The experience was of being with others, in each other’s arms, through the night, into the morning and on to the afternoon and on towards the next night, enraptured by the music of the supposed future. The music was new, energetic and stylistically dissimilar to most other music, and abstract enough to bear whatever messages its listeners wished to share. In all this, techno matched Berlin, which was, after reunification, new, full of spaces looking to be filled, its inhabitants in search of new meanings, for the old ones had become obsolete. And the answer to their search was a way of living that surrounded techno culture and allowed its participants to create ‘public art, in that it is achieved among the public and not in front of it’ (Barthes, 1987: p. 47). Techno in Berlin in 1990 was a living social utopia. A musical genre, a music industry, a context and a locality developed in its wake.

Berliners meet Detroit in New York City In fact, a crucial handshake happened in New York City. A Berlin group made up of Tresor and Hardwax (Thomas Fehlmann, Carola Stoiber, Johnnie Stieler, Dimitri Hegemann and Mark Ernestus) met the Underground Resistance posse (Mike Banks, Blake Baxter, Jeff Mills and others) from Detroit at the ‘New Music Seminar’ in New York City in the summer of 1991. UR had made a point of refusing to participate in any seminars, and followed a strict underground code of conduct that aroused great interest in the Berliners. Both groups handed out records at the trade show, but neither had a booth, both for financial reasons and for reasons of political structure. During the trade show, Jeff (Mills) handed me a promotional copy of their (white label vinyl) release X101 and said they were looking for a European label to license it. In my view, this is how it all started with techno. The record had an incredible energy . . . so we founded Tresor Records just for X-101. (Carola Stoiber, Tresor Records, interview) This encounter led to the first performance by Underground Resistance at the Tresor, which was hugely successful with Berlin ravers, producers and promoters. The raw, dark power of the music of Underground Resistance, who intended techno to constitute a strong, politicised message, similar to the militancy of bands like Public Enemy. The inhabitants of the shattered city of Berlin during the period after the reunification strongly identified with this attitude and greeted Underground Resistance with resounding enthusiasm. It is the recurring theme of this century that such a thing as a mass culture or a pop culture exists, and holds mass societies together, even though when the

Berlin sound of techno 241 functioning of the political systems of the very same mass societies is under discussion in question. (Diederichsen, 2014: p. xi)

Berlin music labels Tresor Records, run by Carola Stoiber and Alexandra Dröner (who also used to be a bouncer at the old Tresor Club), represented an initially strong Berlin label platform. By now, the label has grown and released a huge flood of Berlin productions. The best example of its early releases is the compilation ‘Auferstanden aus Ruinen’ (Risen from the Ruins), a title derived from the national anthem of the German Democratic Republic, but also a clear reference to post-unification Berlin, released in 1992, which was licensed to the UK later in the same year and came out on Novamute with the subtitle ‘The Sound of Berlin’. In addition to tracks by Tanith, Cosmic Baby, Maurizio and others, the compilation also featured the first big Love Parade anthem ‘Der Klang der Familie’, by the producer 3Phase in collaboration with the star Berlin-DJ Dr. Motte. In addition to Tresor Records, the Hardwax label also put out a steady stream of releases, including artists such as Maurizio, Vainqueur and, again, Basic Channel. The Hardwax releases were inspired by the Underground Resistance aesthetic, both musically and in terms of graphic design: no artist photos, a grey, black and white layout with no colours, including images representing the buildings, ruins and spaces of Berlin and Detroit. The releases were launched by the artists and were only available via direct distribution through Hardwax mail-order and a very small network of record shops, again following the UR model. Basic Channel, Maurizio, Main Street were the project and label names simultaneously and all pursued a form of techno with a clear aesthetic: sombre, minimal, soulful and dubby, with a lot of space and echo and a fastidious sample policy. The music – which almost never included any vocal elements – was issued without images or information about the producer and, of course, played by DJs in clubs, so it remained faceless, which contributed to the sense of space created by the music. This sound of techno has been later addressed to the city of Berlin.

Commercialisation and segmentation As the fan base for Berlin techno continued to increase, so did the pace of releases, with sales figures climbing correspondingly upwards. The clubs expanded too and became more commercial and profitable. Ufo became Planet, which became E-Werk. In only a few years, the Love Parade transformed from a bizarre demonstration of the early techno movement, centred on Dr. Motte and Ecstasy, and consisting of four parade floats on the Ku’damm, into a huge procession capable of drawing 1.5 million visitors. The Love Parade had been the idea of Dr. Motte and Danielle de Picciotto, but it grew into a giant commercial event for the music industry, attracting an exploding number of Berlin labels, including Low Spirit, Planet Com, Red Bull, Frontpage and Marlboro Barbeque, as well as major record labels. Berlin artists were no longer just a local scene but instead figures like

242  Daniel Meteo and Sandra Passaro Westbam, and even Berlin originators like Dr. Motte were dominating the German singles charts. As Mark Emestus puts it, ‘market mechanisms that seemed not to apply at the beginning found their way into the scene’ (Denk & von Thülen, 2014: p. 4). The Love Parade presented a new concept to the original notion of techno and, particularly from the Berlin and Detroit perspectives, a chance to resist, now using old words of exclusion: family, nation and, finally, a so-called ‘raving society’. [. . .] totally exhausted from the years of hysteria and bliss and their everrepeating re-enactment, indeed quite hopelessly beat up, at the same time somehow ever-increasing throng of completely unresponsive Love Parade trudgers, saddened by their sad, compulsory Love Parade service, trudging alongside one another [. . .]. (Goetz, 2009: p. 91) In a decade, as the initial Berlin techno scene grew into a giant new electronic music culture, it also fractured into innumerable distinct market segments. Hundreds of clubs, party series and event locations came and went. Some very distinct musical fashions came and went – there was, for example, a brief but important drum’n’bass scene – while others have been more persistent: Jazzanova, BPitch Control, Shitkatapult, Oceanclub, Kanzleramt, WMF, Maria, No Ufos, Ostgut, Bar 25 are to some extent still active today and still represent a very clear selfimage of a counterculture, centred around music – some range from more underground aesthetics (dark, eccentric, minimalist, technology-oriented or techno-esk) to more mainstream ones (commercial, party-oriented, resistant to minimalism) – and its participants are very numerous. Nowadays these labels represent multifarious styles, from indie rock to drum’n’bass, techno, house, idm and other types of electronic music, too many to list here.

Berlin today Today, Berlin generates the highest tourist revenue of any city in Europe, ahead even of London and Paris, thanks in large part to young people who come in hordes, even if only for a weekend, looking to party. Mike Banks, writing somewhat bitterly in an article that appeared in the newspaper Süddeutsche Zeitung of December  16, 2014, complained that ‘we don’t get anything at all here out of Berlin’ (Richter, 2014). In Detroit, techno only happened as an export and art product, as a refuge for an African-American population plagued by racism and hopelessness, and a minority at that – and in Berlin, techno or electronic music, as a boundless, politically and aesthetically insignificant amusement park (cf. Jacke & Passaro, 2014). No liberation either way! If we were to speak about sound solely as a sound (pattern), and as a verbal, simple category, the ‘sound of Berlin techno’ could be summed up as: reduced, minimal, deep, dub. Cut-up, fade, sample (snippet) – minor chords, bass riffs, bass drum. Dark, echo, reverb. Frequency: 20–80 Hz, 150–400 Hz – a minimum of

Berlin sound of techno  243 high frequencies, noise from the compressor; 120 BPM, mastered at Dubplates & Mastering. Translation: Debbie Lo

Note 1 Here Barthes does not describe a rave, but rather his impressions from the Palace, the predominantly queer disco in Paris at the end of the 1970s.

Part VIII

Media and industries

32 The history of the German popular music industry in the twentieth century Klaus Nathaus

Introduction The recent crisis of the record industry has shifted into focus other ways to make money from music, indicating that the ‘music industry’ is larger than the production and sales of sound carriers with which it is often equated. As a matter of fact, it consists of three markets where, respectively, performances, records and licenses are traded. With this broader definition in place, the following account of the German popular music business begins around 1900, a period during which the three sectors of licensing, recording and live performance expanded rapidly and became increasingly interconnected. As it is primarily interested in developments and characteristics that distinguish the German case from the much better researched American and British experience, it ends with the 1980s as the time when the German music business became permeable to domestic rock and pop sounds from the margins, making it more accurate to speak of ‘the music industry in Germany’ rather than ‘the German music industry’ from then on.1 The chapter does not look at music production in the GDR, where popular music oscillated between state regulation and a shadow economy, lacking profit-oriented companies that are essential for a music industry (cf. Rauhut, 2002).

Establishing a rights industry: 1897–1914 The sectors of music publishing and performance began to systematically integrate on a large scale in Germany around 1900. The centre of this activity was the Austro-German operetta trade, where theatre directors branched out into music publishing as they licensed their spectacular productions to provincial theatres, which paid license fees to perform metropolitan ‘hits’ (cf. Linhardt, 2009). While the publisher-directors pioneered the licensing of music by focussing on the so-called ‘grand’ (or theatrical performance) rights, copyright reforms and the activities of foreign collecting agencies brought many German music publishers to take into view the ‘small’ rights. These rights reserved the performance of copyrighted music in taverns and dance halls, where music had previously been played without a fee to authors and publishers. To reap payments from ‘small’ rights, publishers set up the first German collecting agency in 1897. However, many

248  Klaus Nathaus composers opposed the publishers’ initiative, and in 1903 a group of 150 composers founded their own collecting agency, the ‘Anstalt für musikalisches Aufführungsrecht’ (AFMA, Institution for Musical Performance Rights). To collect and distribute royalties for the popular Austrian repertoire performed in Germany, the ‘Gesellschaft der Autoren, Komponisten und Musikverleger’ (AKM, Society for Authors, Composers and Publishers), formed in 1897 in Vienna, signed a cooperative agreement with AFMA. But conflict soon arose between the two agencies, as AFMA favoured ‘serious’ over popular music. In contrast, the majority of the AKM board was made up of publishers, composers and librettists of operettas, and these began to feel their German partners were selling them short. As a result, AKM decided to license its repertoire directly to German venue proprietors from 1912. This was the beginning of a strong presence of the Austrian music business in Germany, a presence that was augmented when a dispute over mechanical rights led to a group of AFMA defectors forming the ‘Genossenschaft zur Verwertung musikalischer Aufführungsrechte’ (GEMA, Association for the Utilisation of Musical Performance Rights) in 1915. This new German collecting agency took over the representation of the AKM repertoire in Germany, passing on more than half of the license fees it collected to its Austrian sibling, an agreement renewed in 1926. In the first third of the twentieth century, the German music business was heavily influenced by Austrian entrepreneurs as well as Austrian repertoire (cf. Dümling, 2003: pp. 755–776).

The war and its tumultuous aftermath: 1914–30 Before 1914, the publishing and performance industries had also integrated the recording and gramophone industry (cf. Becker, 2013: pp. 11–40). German gramophone and recording firms had built a strong position on global markets, exported the major share of their output and had significant stakes in the industry in Britain and other European countries. During World War I, however, these foreign assets were confiscated and international trade links were severed. At the same time, other parts of the German music industry were also suffering. German-language musical plays had been hugely successful on Broadway, but the war brought the transatlantic operetta trade to a halt. As a consequence, the end of the war saw the German music industry severely weakened and forced to concentrate on the domestic market. By contrast, the British recorded music industry came out ahead of its German rival. It even made inroads into Germany, with Columbia Graphophone buying Lindström in the second half of the 1920s (cf. Schulz-Köhn, 1940). The economic tribulations of the early 1920s hampered the German record industry, and things were no better for the live music business. In fact, the reduced spending power of audiences meant that proprietors of music venues replaced established professional musicians with cheaper semi-amateurs in an attempt to cut costs. While the former demanded union rates and stuck to set playlists, their new competitors often lacked formal training and were castigated as ‘dilettantes’. However, they amped up showmanship and, adopting American monikers, called themselves ‘jazz’ acts. Critics and other musicians were sceptical, but the new

German popular music industry  249 scene was a hit with audiences (cf. Schröder, 1990). Chutzpah was the order of the day also for publishers. Some GEMA members employed unconventional strategies to get their songs played, supplying bands with free sheet music and using ‘payola’ tactics for radio ‘plugs’ (Wengraf, 1925: pp. 67–69). In this way, a new group of publishers, authors and composers was quick to seize the economic opportunities during a tumultuous period for the music industry, giving rise to a new repertoire of schlager songs, often with nonsense lyrics. The musical sensitivity of these figures was largely owed to their close connection with the cabaret and jazz scene in Berlin.

Consolidation and political co-optation: 1930–45 The German record industry had lost its share of the international market, but domestically, its sales figures grew throughout the 1920s, reaching thirty million records sold in 1929 alone. After this peak, the music industry as a whole entered a phase of consolidation. Technological changes played a part in this. Electric recording required larger investment, which – in combination with the economic slump after 1929 – led to a concentration of the record industry, leaving Deutsche Grammophon (with Telefunken) and Lindström-Electrola as the only two domestic competitors. At the same time, sound film changed the music market overall, with movies becoming a major promotional vehicle for songs. This led to German film companies acquiring popular music catalogues, both to save on performance fees for songs used in films and to exploit music created for films. The increasing importance of radio and sound film for the music industry overall changed the perspective of songwriters and musicians on audiences. The former had now to aim at the absent and anonymous mass-media audience rather than to a ‘present audience’ there at a live performance. Studio recording became central for musicians, demanding different skills. Improvisation, for example, which could enhance a live performance or cover up a mistake, was not really possible in a studio setting. One of the overall effects of these trends was that popular music became more homogeneous. This was true internationally, but some unique factors were at play in Germany. Among these was state intervention. Beginning already in the Weimar years, the authorities introduced occupational tests for dance musicians and forbade free employment agencies to operate in order to protect formally trained musicians in a shrinking labour market (cf. Schröder, 1990). The regulatory screw was tightened by the Nazis, who required music industry members to affiliate with state-controlled trade and professional bodies and merged AFMA, GEMA and, in 1938, AKM into the ‘Staatlich genehmigte Gesellschaft zur Verwertung musikalischer Urheberrechte’ (STAGMA, National Approved Society for the Utilisation of Musical Copyrights). Overall, the industry aligned itself quite readily with Nazi principles, be this out of conviction or opportunism. This compliance was rewarded: record sales grew (albeit slowly), foreign competition was kept at bay, and STAGMA collections increased after the military invasion of Europe. Such growth was unsustainable, however, and compromised by aesthetic losses, based

250  Klaus Nathaus as it was on the brutality of the Nazi regime. The persecution of Jewish songwriters, publishers and performers deprived German popular music of many of its most prominent and interesting figures. And measures against ‘Negro’ music, though never comprehensive, constrained the further development of jazz in Germany (cf. Fetthauer, 2000: pp. 418–429).

Regrouping around radio: 1945–63 After 1945, the music industry in West Germany was run largely by people who had been in the trade before the war, and they stuck to established formulas. They rebuilt the industry, starting with the ‘live’ business, and re-animated STAGMA in 1947 under a new name, ‘Gesellschaft für musikalische Aufführungs- und mechanische Vervielfältigungsrechte’ (GEMA, Society for Musical Performance and Mechanical Duplication Rights), which is not to be mistaken for a descendent of the aforementioned ‘old’ GEMA. In 1951, collections from small rights exceeded those from either broadcasting or mechanical rights. Publishers ‘plugged’ their songs to local dance bands and made sure that leaders registered their performances on GEMA forms so that they were awarded royalty points. This business was conducted in all big cities, which is one reason why major publishing firms can be found today in Munich, Cologne, Hamburg and Frankfurt as well as Berlin. The regional structure of publishing was mirrored by the federal organisation of public broadcasting and, by proxy, record production. Radio was of primary importance for the music industry from the late 1940s to the early 1960s, not only because it was the medium with the largest audience, but also because it maintained recording studios and employed musicians on which record companies depended. In the early post-war years, record firms bought master tapes produced in broadcasting studios or commissioned recordings conducted by producers, engineers and musicians who were employed with the broadcasters and did recording sessions as an increasingly lucrative side job. The central role of radio in the music industry of the 1950s explains the growth of ‘cliques’ of producers, songwriters, arrangers and bandleaders who were well connected with broadcasting houses and acted as personal links among music publishers, record firms, film companies and radio stations. The dominance of these ‘cliques’ meant that the music business during that period was relatively closed to newcomers, frustrating anyone who could have introduced different musical ideas and sounds into German popular music. It is important to note that the growing share of American songs on the German market since World War II did not – at first – undermine the strong position of domestic producers. Many of the songs marketed as German schlager were subpublished US songs, re-recorded by German musicians and singers with German lyrics. In 1956, sub-published US hits made up 41 of the top-100 records on the German jukebox charts. German publishers and record companies took success in the American record market as an indicator of a song’s general hit potential, while still assuming that foreign songs needed to be translated to resonate with German audiences. (cf. Pendzich, 2008). Until the 1960s, German publishers usually

German popular music industry  251 retained 50 per cent of the total royalties from sales and licensing of both the original version and its adaptations, allowing them to profit from the increasing popularity of American and British songs. This income helped some publishers to set up studios and produce their own masters. As a consequence, early German independent production companies like Hansa (Meisel) were founded not by people from the margins of the music industry, as was often the case in the US, but by established publishers who recorded in order to attract songwriters and prevent them from turning to record companies directly.

Importing pop and rock, updating schlager in discotheques: 1963–78 At the end of the 1950s, only a third of German households owned a record player (cf. Haertel, 1956: p. 26), which indicates the lesser importance of the market for sound carriers for the German music business at that time. This changed with the boom of Anglo-American beat and rock, a sound that attracted first and foremost young listeners. American record companies were even beginning to open German branches to service this market directly. Against this background, domestic record producers discovered discotheques as new promotional outlets. They found a ready partner in a group of disc jockeys who had formed the ‘Deutsche Disk-Jockey Organisation’ (DDO, German DiscJockey Organisation) in 1963. By the end of the decade, DDO’s main function was to connect industry people with each other. DDO meetings attracted representatives from record companies and publishing firms as well as television and radio stations and introduced them to up-and-coming singers, among them many subsequent German stars like Peter Maffay and Tony Marshall (cf. Nathaus, 2014: pp. 155–176). Once again, the German music industry can be seen adapting to changes in taste and media use (the growing importance of records) by ‘reforming’ its dance and light music formula. By contrast, ‘revolutionary’ sounds found it much harder to get a break. Krautrock bands such as Faust or Can, pioneering in the early 1970s a new and distinct style of rock music characterised by improvisation and the near absence of conventional song structures, were either neglected by German companies or marketed without the long-term commitment necessary to promote rock acts (cf. Dedekind, 2008; see Papenburg in this book). In economic terms, the period between the early 1960s and the late 1970s was a time of continuous growth. GEMA collections quadrupled from ca. 100 million Deutsche Marks in 1963 to ca. 400 million DM in 1978 (cf. Anon, 1964). Initially, this increase was owed to a rise in the income from performance takings, with television, jukeboxes, discotheques, concerts and increased radio fees adding to this position. In 1970, the income from recording licenses topped those from performances for the first time (cf. GEMA, 1971). Record sales then stood at 81.6 million and rose to 207.4 million in 1978, a figure not reached again until 1990 (cf. Mahlmann, 1997: p. 163). Fostered by the sales of in-home stereo sets and advances in retailing, the record became the foremost music medium in the

252  Klaus Nathaus 1970s. Anglo-American productions dominated among the hits, while the market share of domestic schlager dwindled.

From ‘the German music industry’ to ‘the music industry in Germany’ Around 1980, the German industry took a turn to greater stylistic openness. Among the reasons for this were greater efficiency in record retailing, the deregulation of broadcasting and the increasing concentration of the record industry into multinational corporations which focussed on distribution and left the search for artists and repertoires to ‘independent’ producers and publishers. An important factor in this development was the establishment of the Media Control charts in Germany in 1977. Although such charts can themselves act as a homogenising force, in Germany, once they were accepted as a standard measure of audience preferences, they were employed to overrule established views among long-standing producers of what popular music should sound like, allowing for unconventional sounds to break through (cf. Nathaus, 2015: pp. 251–275). Such changes in the latter years of the twentieth century led to the German music industry shedding many of its former particularities. Thus, by the end of the twentieth century, it had become more accurate to speak of ‘the music industry in Germany’ rather than ‘the German music industry’. While the schlager formula still shapes what is called ‘Volkstümliche Musik’ (pejorative: folk-like music), a genre primarily targeted at elderly listeners via television shows, the domestic product had by the 1990s largely absorbed the idiom of international pop, rock and dance music. Presently, German protagonists face the same challenges and discuss the same strategies as music producers in other parts of the world. As elsewhere, record sales have declined and live music gained new importance, while the income from licensing continues to grow with each outlet the collecting agencies are able to make pay for the use of music.

Note 1 The more recent period has been reviewed in detail by Moser and Scheuermann (2003). This handbook has been frequently updated since 1992.

33 Pop on TV The national and international success of Radio Bremen’s Beat-Club Detlef Siegfried Backgrounds Radio Bremen’s Beat-Club was first broadcast in September 1965, and became one of the icons of German cultural history of the 60s: seen as an instrument of cultural liberalisation, and a pathway for British and American pop music into West Germany. The idea of the Beat-Club came from Ernest Borneman, a Berlin-born author, anthropologist and jazz expert – and later sexologist – who had, as a teenaged member of the Communist Party, left Germany for London in 1933. He had returned to Germany only in 1960, on the invitation of the government in order to help create a private national television station (cf. Siegfried, 2015). While the proposed Freies Fernsehen Gesellschaft (free television company) never got off the ground, for legal reasons, Borneman worked as a freelance author for other channels and wrote a proposal that would convey the atmosphere of a real Beat-Club as authentically as possible: entirely live performances, cameras moving among the dancers, unscripted and impromptu interviews, and a simple stage set – a ‘candid, natural show with nothing to hide’ (Beat-Klub). This idea found a home with Radio Bremen (radio and television company of the state Bremen), where Borneman worked on its production with Michael Leckebusch. Gestation of the new show was not without its problems. There was so much conflict between Borneman, as director, and Michael Leckebusch, as editor, that Radio Bremen removed Borneman from his own project and handed responsibility for Beat-Club to Leckebusch. In fact, however, the show that Leckebusch first produced realized most of Borneman’s concept of a quasi-documentary representation of youth culture and the beat music scene. Ultimately, the credit for the Beat-Club must go to both men: Borneman for the idea and the momentum to start the project, and Leckebusch for making it a reality, developing and expanding the idea, and turning it into an internationally successful format. But, though Leckebusch’s show initially followed Borneman’s proposal, its greatest success came once a rather different concept was adopted: Leckebusch would eventually make one crucial change to the show’s format, abandoning Borneman’s idea that Beat-Club might serve to identify and foster a ‘German sound’ and coming to focus entirely on English-language pop music.

254  Detlef Siegfried Leckebusch was the right man for the Beat-Club job in ways that Borneman could not be. Born in 1937, he was more than twenty years younger than Borneman, and much closer to the contemporary music scene. In fact, he was not much of a rock’n’roll fan himself, being more interested in West Side Story, bluegrass and, inevitably, jazz. Nonetheless, he was a frequent visitor to the Star Club on the Große Freiheit in Hamburg, which since 1962 had been the German venue for the raw and energetic music of the new beat scene. When Radio Bremen began developing Beat-Club, the Star Club not only provided the blueprint for what would appear on screen, but it was also the best place for the producers to find the British bands that would perform on the show.

Not a ‘German sound’, but an ‘authentic English beat programme’ Having disregarded Borneman’s interest in a putative ‘German sound’, Leckebusch began in the summer of 1966 to work on an ‘authentic English beat programme’ (Leckebusch to C.N., 1966). The result was a new format for the Beat-Club show, which was first seen by viewers on 25 February  1967. The main change was that the focus was now entirely on British and American artists (German underground bands returned to the Beat-Club in 1971). Leckebusch also modified the show’s presentation, focusing his cameras completely on the stage so that the earlier emphasis on the audience and its interaction with the band disappeared. Indeed, the studio audience now became almost incidental to the show, much reduced in size and seated just in front of the stage instead of dancing – the latter activity taken over by professional go-go girls. What is more, Leckebusch also started to use recorded playbacks to augment performances. It was quickly apparent that the programme’s new formula for success was providing international pop music directly to Germany’s young people – at least at first. This was symbolized by the programme’s new logo, a version of the emblem of the London underground. But instead of merely aping British precedents, BeatClub was so impressive that the (London) New Musical Express opined in 1968 that Radio Bremen’s programme had a good chance to become ‘the best of the bunch’ and even to outdo its British competitors (New Musical Express, 1968; cf. also Melody Maker, 1972). Farther afield, the Bangkok Post in 1969 wrote, ‘ “beat club” is indisputably the prestige pop show of Europe’. During a March  1968 broadcast, Beat-Clubs moderator Uschi Nerke announced that the programme, having reached a viewership of 75 million, was ‘the . . . German pop show’ to reach more people than ‘competing programmes’ from Britain (Script, RB, BC 29).1 In 1969 Leckebusch boasted of the show being broadcast in forty-eight countries, and Hans Abich, head of Radio Bremen, called the Beat-Club ‘Germany’s best export’ (NRZ, 1969; Twen, 1969: p. 75f.). Through Beat-Club, West Germany had become an international leader in the field of pop music television, which ten years before had been an almost entirely American phenomenon.

Pop on TV 255 This did not happen because of Germany having its own inspiring beat culture, however, but rather because of a creative presentation of British and American pop music. And in Germany, Leckebusch’s show caused some severe problems to the indigenous music scene. The ‘Liverpool’ or ‘Mersey’ sound was now a dominant brand of modern pop music that German bands were adopting in order to improve their chances of getting gigs. By assimilating themselves as far as possible to the British model, musically and lyrically, German bands still found out that, although they could play in German clubs, they had no access to the most important medium: television – not even German television. This problem became part of the discussion surrounding Beat-Club from early in its history but escalated in the beginning of 1968, as Leckebusch’s new format became clearly established (cf. Bild, 1968). For his part, Leckebusch did not explain his focus on British and American stars in popularity or commercial terms. Instead, he argued that German bands lacked ‘inspiration’ and were mere copycats of the real deal from Britain and America. Furthermore, where German bands might have complained of lack of access to publicity and television, Leckebusch said that the Germans’ ‘poor ability’ was combined with ‘crass opportunism [and] strangles every possible capacity’ (Leckebusch, 1968, RB, BC Pressemappe; MusikInformationen, 1967). As Leckebusch portrayed things, the German beat scene aped their British role models uncritically, and therefore remained ‘provincial’ (Höllenspiegel, 1970).

The question of ‘authenticity’ Where Borneman’s initial concept for Beat-Club had hoped to discover or even create a German music scene, Leckebusch, then, came to reject this possibility altogether. But one of the Beat-Clubs other central and most fascinating features was its live concept. Viewers of the show were afforded a unique opportunity to closely study a star performing live, a star they would only have known before as a voice on a record or a face in a photograph. The dancing audience on Beat-Club highlighted that what was seen on TV was live, and so the screen became a keyhole view into a lively, throbbing youth club. Watching Beat-Club at home, young people could keep up with the newest hair and latest clothing fashions without having to leave the sofa. The attempt to reproduce the atmosphere of a club as realistically as possible worked out so brilliantly that the New Musical Express (1966) had seen the relaxed and authentic style of the programme’s initial format as its decisive advantage compared with the British Ready, Steady, Go!, although this was the show which Leckebusch frequently named as his model. Yet, although it was Beat-Clubs ‘informality’ which impressed many British observers, Leckebusch’s reform of the program in February 1967 moved in the other direction. The studio audience, now reduced to eighty, became passive onlookers and the dancers professional, while the bands began to mime to backing tracks. For this, Leckebusch earned criticism: the ‘audience sits like it is glued down. The last broadcast showed the beat fans only twice, and for the briefest of moments. This

256  Detlef Siegfried is stupid. [. . .] And the bands don’t sing for real anymore. What is the good of this miming?’ (I.Z. to Beat-Club, 1967, RB, BC 20). Yet the accusation of inauthenticity is peculiar, for, in fact, the show’s assertion of authenticity had been problematic right from the beginning. It had always been clear that most of the audience danced with more energy, moved more enthusiastically, when the camera came closer. Even after a relatively brief period, this kind of ostentatious spontaneity began to lose its persuasiveness. At the same time, while some member of the live audience danced too showily, others did not dance enough. Leckebusch partly justified his reforms from 1967 by taunting that the audiences were too shy (cf. Musikparade, 1967). Thus, Leckebusch deliberately turned away from ideas of authenticity towards intensified professionalism. However, when – to produce a more professional show – he deviated from the live concept and introduced playback, many saw this as a step too far. Yet, if playback represented a failure of authenticity for some critics and viewers, it seemed to point to a deeper crisis in the postulate of authenticity for Leckebusch. At least, he soon abandoned it completely. Instead, Leckebusch turned towards a much more conscious manipulation of the medium of television. Criticizing conventional TV performance shows as presenting a ‘photographed stage’, he began to visually orchestrate the events instead of just depicting them (cf. interview with Konkret, 1968, RB, BC Pressemappe). Instead of merely filming the band, he worked with every tool the camera gave him – fast panning shots, cross-fades, montages, negative images – to create a visualization of the music’s rhythm and effect. What could be achieved only became more impressive with the advent of colour TV. Rather than being a documentarian of authenticity, Leckebusch became a screen artist who, inspired by Marshall McLuhan (‘all senses must get into the act’), defined this mode of operating, which was supposed to make the conventions of vision more ‘progressive’, as a political action, an irritation of ‘convenient habits of consumption’ (Konkret, 1968). In fact, all this artifice, this experimental and deconstructive aesthetics, actually corresponded closely with the ideas and performances of bands like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who and The Mothers of Invention. But the dreamlike psychedelic forms used by bands on posters and album covers and printed in underground papers had never before been used on television. In attempting to enact the new musical forms through equally new television aesthetics, Leckebusch was a pioneer. He was, as the German news magazine Spiegel (1968) put it, ‘smash[ing] the pattern of music shows on TV’, noting – as if to refute those questioners of Beat Club’s authenticity – that on Leckebusch’s show, ‘reality wiggle[d], bubble[d], whizze[d] and swell[ed] in phantasmagoric convulsions, never arbitrarily, over the screen’. Thus, in a curious way, Leckebusch’s new artifice may have been quite true to Borneman’s original vision of a music show that would capture the true atmosphere of a music scene. Furthermore, although adopting a rather patronising tone, Leckebusch also still portrayed his programme as politicized, stating: ‘Those who adopt this new way of seeing are mostly intelligent kids [. . .], the others are too indifferent, they only want to hear music and watch their stars’ (Weser-Kurier,

Pop on TV 257 1968). So, Leckebusch’s formal intransigence combined with political statements actually reactivated Beat-Club’s original rebellious attitude and adopted the underground’s vaguely politicised aura. Because Leckebusch’s TV aesthetics incorporated the moment of virtual auto-destruction already proven successful in shows of, say, Jimi Hendrix or The Who, it could be assumed that particularly British bands were open-minded about such kinds of experiments. Among critics and in professional music circles, Leckebusch was widely admired as being at the vanguard of what a TV producer could do. When The Who appeared on the Beat-Club, their manager Kit Lambert wrote to Leckebusch, ‘That was a great television you did on the Who. We were all knocked out’ (Lambert to Leckebusch, 1967, RB, BC 19). Dave Dee, the British pop musician who hosted Beat-Club for a time, thought that Leckebusch was ‘streets ahead of anyone we’ve got in Britain’. No one, said the Financial Times in a laudatory article, had made a better TV pop show since Jack Good2 (cf. Disc and Music Echo, 1969; Financial Times, 1971; AME-Musikverlag to Leckebusch, 1967, RB, BC 18). It seems, then, that even if the Beat-Club format that first appeared in February 1967 under the emblem of the London Underground had set out to bring international pop and rock music directly to its audience, Leckebusch’s experiments with televisual aesthetics ended up moving in a far more challenging direction. Arguably, the aesthetic pursued by Leckebusch was one of alienation, in more than one sense: he abandoned the props of traditional television aesthetics and challenged himself, as an artist-director, to produce something entirely new; he challenged the very idea that a television music show should not try such experiments, and he challenged his audience to engage with music television in a very different way – just, perhaps, as musicians like The Who and Hendrix were demanding more of their audiences. But the majority of Beat-Club’s German audience did not like this alienation. His fellow professionals may have admired Leckebusch’s work, but much of his audience perceived his pop art experiments rather as evident ‘amateurism’ (W.K. to Beat-Club, 1967, RB, BC 25). The bulk of the audience for music television did not want the music performances on screen to be transformed artistically by the programme’s director or producer. Instead, their concept of professional TV production was the depiction of their heroes in action as ‘authentically’ or ‘realistically’ as possible. In this, the audience may have misunderstood its own heroes, as bands like The Who were likely to approve of Leckebusch’s style and reject notions of realism. The audience, however, is the ultimate arbiter of televisual success, and Leckebusch’s helming had begun to steer Beat-Club away from its audience. The last Beat-Club show was broadcast on 9 December 1972. Leckebusch was back on the airwaves only four days later with a new programme, ‘Musikladen’, but, if Beat-Club is to be admired as a brave experiment, then this show represented a retreat to a simpler format, more responsive to audience preconceptions and, in appearance at least, much more like Borneman’s original idea, but perhaps – nearly ten years later – no longer as true to Borneman’s original goal of real artistic authenticity. Despite its eventually losing resonance with its audience, the Beat-Club was the most advanced attempt by German public service broadcasting to offer broad

258  Detlef Siegfried access to British and US pop culture to German young people. The history of its reception is complex and, at different times, even polarized across different groups. But overall, it was generally received positively, so Borneman’s concept of a cultural ‘westernization’ of the younger generations in Germany was realised. But insofar as this westernisation was a matter of bringing the energy and authenticity of the beat and music scenes to Germany, it turned out that this was never an uncontested process. In very different ways, Borneman and Leckebusch both presented their audiences with a television version of the liberated 1960s, at least as captured by the progressive pop music of the time. But this presentation was always in flux, almost in tension with itself, and its reception by the audience was likewise complicated.

Notes 1 RB = Radio Bremen, BC = Beat-Club. These are the official archive numbers. 2 Good was a music producer and rock’n’roll manager who had pioneered music television for teenagers in Britain.

34 German music talent shows Nicolas Ruth and Holger Schramm

Introduction In recent years, music talent shows, which emerged in Germany in the 1990s, have become one of the most successful television formats. The most popular examples of this genre in Germany are ‘Popstars’ (since 2000), ‘Deutschland sucht den Superstar’ (Germany is Looking for the Superstar, since 2002), and ‘The Voice of Germany’ (since 2011). This article represents a concise introduction to the German music talent show environment, its history, and the most popular winners of the shows. It also addresses the reception by and effects of music talent on contemporary German popular music studies. By doing so, this article addresses a crucial gap in the literature on music talent shows.

Background In Germany, the idea of music talent shows in which young people reinterpret hit singles has existed for many years. Even in early episodes of the ‘Rudi Carrell Show’1 (1988–1992), newcomer artists imitated famous singers and were rated by the studio audience (cf. Wolther, 2009). This and other shows did not have to pay music stars but still provided an entertaining program with very popular music. Except for minor differences, for example between different shows or seasons, all of the talent shows in Germany are very similar to one other. During the first rounds of a season, candidates usually introduce themselves to the jury with a short musical performance (in some shows, they use instruments or dance). Only ‘The Voice of Germany’ preselects candidates, while ‘Deutschland sucht den Superstar’ (DSDS) and ‘Popstars’ are open to the general public.2 Only ‘The Voice’ uses blind auditions that are the first steps of the contest where the jury listens to the participants while they can’t see them. Because of the very high number of participants auditioning, the jury usually has only a few seconds to select the participants for the next round. The jury usually consists of three or four singers, dancers, music producers, or media experts, who compare and judge the contestants. In each round, they decide whether contestants will be eliminated from the competition or whether they belong to an increasingly small number of

260  Nicolas Ruth and Holger Schramm participants who will advance to the next level. This process continues until one singer or band wins the final round. ‘The Voice’, ‘DSDS’, and ‘Popstars’ use different voting procedures to determine winners. In the case of ‘Popstars’, the jury votes on every selection except during the final show, when only the audience votes. In contrast, the jury of ‘DSDS’ votes during the early rounds, whereas the audience votes during later rounds, including the final shows, which are broadcast as live shows. In the case of ‘The Voice’, the jury members determine the outcome of the first two rounds of auditions; a combination of telephone voting and jury decisions is used during later rounds; only the audience chooses the winner. Von Appen (2005) describes how these kinds of selection processes transfer the decision concerning the next superstar, which used to be made by artist and repertoire managers, to target audiences. This shift allows the music industry to dramatically reduce the high risk of a flop, especially in light of the fact that there are, in general, ten failures for each success story in the industry. Although juries cannot directly promote or dismiss contestants, their influence on audiences should not be underestimated. Many viewers rely on what they perceive to be the expertise of jury members. Viewers seem to turn to the jury for advice when, for whatever reason, they feel they cannot, in terms of quality, tell the difference between the performances of different contestants (cf. Schramm, 2010).

The formats ‘DSDS’ is based on the British show ‘Pop Idol’ (first broadcast in 2001), ‘Popstars’ is a version of the New Zealand show of the same name (first broadcast in 1999), and ‘The Voice’ is related to ‘The Voice of Holland’, a format that was first broadcast in the Netherlands in 2010. Because all of these shows were very successful in their respective countries of origin, they were licensed and replicated worldwide. A very wide range of formats characterizes the German market, as it not only includes the three formats mentioned above but also other music talent shows.3 It is important to note here that Germany is the third largest market for music in the world, after the US and Japan and before the United Kingdom (cf. Bundesverband Musikindustrie, 2014). ‘Popstars’ The history of German music talent shows began in 2000 when the first season of ‘Popstars’ aired on the TV channel RTL2 (since 2003 on ProSieben) and led to the creation of the most successful German casting band to date: No Angels. Their first single, ‘Daylight in Your Eyes’, and the album ‘Elle’ments’ topped the German, Austrian, and Swiss charts. Until a temporary breakup in December 2003, No Angels sold about five million records worldwide, had three more number-one singles in Germany, and became, with the exception of the Spice Girls, the most successful girl band in Europe.4

German music talent shows  261 In subsequent seasons, there were several more successful girl, boy, and even mixed bands, for example, Bro’Sis (Brothers and Sisters), the winners of the second season. After the third season – the winners were the bands Preluders and Overground – commercial success seems to have eluded most winners. Although the band Nu Pagadi, the winners of the fourth season, had a number-one single in Germany, the second single was not in the Top 20. The girl group Monrose, the winner of the fifth season, was slightly more successful as they released a numberone single ‘Shame’ and album called ‘Temptation’. In recent years, the winners of ‘Popstars’ have failed to live up to the promise implied by the name of the show. The winner of the sixth season, Room2012, a group of singers and dancers – this combination probably very much to the liking of the most popular jury member, Detlef ‘D!’ Soost, a dancer and choreographer – did not even have a number-one single. This was also true for Queensberry, the girl band that won the seventh season; Some and Any, the duo successful during the eighth season; LaVive, the girl group that won the ninth season; and Melouria, the mixed band that won in 2012. Not one of these bands exists anymore. The last band, Melouria, split up less than a year after the last show of ‘Popstars’. ‘Deutschland sucht den Superstar’ In November 2002, the broadcasting company RTL launched ‘Deutschland sucht den Superstar’ (DSDS) in an attempt to replicate the successful first season of ‘American Idol’, which was won by Kelly Clarkson. Already the first season of ‘DSDS’ was a huge success, with an average of 12.8 million viewers per show and over 15 million viewers for the season finale. Five contestants of this season had singles in the top ten of the German singles charts. The winner was Alexander Klaws, who eventually went on to place second to last in the international competition ‘World Idol’; Daniel Küblböck, who placed third, eventually became more famous than Klaws. Due to the success of ‘DSDS’, RTL, which had struggled financially prior to the first season of the show, was back in the black in 2003. The commercial link has been obvious ever since: the key member of the jury has been Dieter Bohlen, one of the most important music producers of the BMG (Bertelsmann Music Group), the show has been aired by RTL, which belongs to the RTL Group, which in turn is owned by the Bertelsmann Group. All winners and the all-star projects of ‘DSDS’ are produced by Dieter Bohlen under contract with BMG (cf. Pendzich, 2005). The commercial success of ‘DSDS’ is very impressive: all the winners of the ten seasons after the first one had number-one singles in Germany and at least one Top 20 album. The only exception is the winner of the second season, Elli Erl, who only made it to number three on the singles charts in 2004. The winner of the third season was Tobias Regner, and the most successful one has been the winner of the fourth season, Mark Medlock. The winners of the subsequent seasons were as follows: Thomas Godoj (fifth season), Daniel Schuhmacher (sixth season),

262  Nicolas Ruth and Holger Schramm Mehrzad Marashi (seventh season), Pietro Lombardi (eighth season), Luca Hänni (ninth season), Beatrice Egli (tenth season), and Aneta Sablik (eleventh season). ‘The Voice of Germany’ The first season of ‘The Voice’, a cooperation between the broadcasting companies ProSieben and Sat.1, started in November 2011. The winners of the past three seasons did not release number-one singles. The show has, however, become one of the most popular and successful formats in Germany, and at least all winners released singles that were among the top ten on the German charts. The big player behind this format is the leading music company Universal Music Group. To date, the winners have been Ivy Quainoo (first season), Nick Howard (second season), and Andreas Kümmert (third season). Other formats In 2002, the Austrian broadcasting company ORF started ‘Starmania’, which was broadcast until 2009. The most successful participant in Austria and Germany associated with this format is not a winner of a season but the singer who placed second in the first season: Christina Stürmer. Starmania was replaced by ‘Helden von Morgen’ (Heroes of Tomorrow) in 2010. In Switzerland, the format was called ‘Musicstar’, and it was broadcast for four seasons between 2003 and 2009. In 2003, the German TV company Sat.1 responded to the success of ‘DSDS’ and first broadcast ‘Star Search’, which was based on an American show of the same name that featured singers such as Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. In contrast to ‘DSDS’, ‘Star Search’ also allowed comedians and models to audition. The most successful artist associated with this format is Martin Kesici (first season), although his accomplishments have been eclipsed in the meantime by Bill Kaulitz, who, as a candidate, only made it to the last sixteen but who has been the singer of the successful German band Tokio Hotel since 2005. The German entertainer Stefan Raab and the broadcasting company ProSieben invented another format in 2003 called ‘SSDSGPS’ (‘Stefan sucht den Super-Grand-Prix-Star’, Stefan is searching for the Grand Prix Star). Raab hosted many other music talent shows later on (‘Unser Star für Oslo/Baku’ ~ Our Star for Oslo/Baku); the basic goal of this format was to identify the next German candidate for the ‘Eurovision Song Contest’ (ESC), which is formally known as the ‘Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson’. The only German contestant to win the ‘ESC’ was Lena Meyer-Landrut in 2010.

Studies on the reception and effects of music talent shows Regarding the success of shows such as ‘Popstars’, ‘DSDS’, and ‘The Voice’, it is very surprising that there is a lack of research on the reception and effects of these and other music talent shows. The studies that do exist indicate, however, that music talent shows play an important part in the life of children and adolescents,

German music talent shows  263 and for this reason, they can be regarded as a central factor when it comes to socialization (cf. Hackenberg & Selg, 2012). Children and adolescents ages 9 to 19 consume the shows as a form of entertainment, they follow the story of their favorite candidates, and they draw on these shows to connect with their peers (cf. Götz & Gather, 2012). Sarah Wolf (2004) observed that even in her sample of 200 adolescents, 15.5 percent stated that they are familiar with ‘DSDS’, even though they had never watched the show. This result indicates that music talent shows and their candidates are a topic even for people who encounter it only via media reports or interpersonal communication. Because participants are perceived to be ordinary persons and the shows therefore resemble the lived experience of viewers, the shows allow for a feeling of orientation ‘at eye level’ with peers (cf. Hackenberg & Hajok, 2012), which facilitates identification and leads to the formation of parasocial relationships (cf. Müllensiefen, Lothwesen, Tiemann & Matterne, 2005; Schramm, 2010) between the adolescents and their candidates, which, in turn, again leads to social practices such as conversations at school or reenactments of shows (cf. Götz & Gather, 2012). Another important factor contributing to the success of these shows is the jury in general and famous members in particular, who are discussed especially by older children and by adolescents (cf. Hackenberg & Selg, 2012b). Many adolescents dream of becoming superstars or musicians, and they compare their situation with those of the ordinary teens who participate in casting shows (cf. Götz & Gather, 2012; Hackenberg & Hajok, 2012), and gather what they perceive to be useful information from the lives and careers of contestants (cf. Hackenberg, Hajok & Selg, 2011). Music talent shows are often watched and discussed with other family members, and in these kinds of situations, children often take on the role of experts. This reversal of roles can be a very positive albeit rare experience for children as they watch television with parents (cf. Klaus & O’Connor, 2010). Some adolescents even develop an awareness of talent shows and their products as media products (cf. Müllensiefen et al., 2005). Focusing on the Austrian format ‘Starmania’, a study indicated that from a viewer’s perspective, witnessing how dreams can come true, identifying with candidates, and sharing the emotional experience of watching music talent shows in a group are the main reasons for consuming this show (cf. Casapicola, 2005). The largest demographic for music talent shows are women between 14 and 29, followed by women between 30 and 49, and men between 14 and 29 (cf. Döveling, Kurotschka & Nieland, 2007). The most popular formats today, measured in terms of demand and viewing rates, are ‘DSDS’ and ‘The Voice’. They are likely to have the largest impact on viewers and for the music industry. While in the case of ‘DSDS’ the emphasis is on entertainment and the vast majority of songs interpreted by participants are, perhaps in order to target younger audiences, to be found in the single charts, ‘The Voice’ is more likely to focus on music not known by most viewers and on older candidates. In this case, the focus is on musical talent and performance (mainly on the voice, interaction with a live band, use of harmony vocals, and performance with instruments) in order to target older

264  Nicolas Ruth and Holger Schramm and more educated audiences. These different approaches have led to discussions about differences in terms of quality of these two formats among the general public (cf. Brauck & Kühn, 2012) and scholars in the field of popular music studies (cf. Schramm & Ruth, 2014).

Notes 1 The Rudi Carrell Show was a very popular German Saturday night prime time show which referred to the British TV shows ‘Surprise Surprise’ and ‘Live Sound’. Five ordinary people competed in a musical imitation contest. The show could be considered the first German talent show. 2 In the following, we will refer to the first two of these shows as ‘The Voice’ and ‘DSDS’, respectively. 3 For more detailed sales figures and viewing rates, see Schramm (2010). 4 For these and the following chart positions, Media Control and GfK Entertainment charts were used, which are taken from the industry journal Musikmarkt, as well as www.musicline.de, www.swisscharts.com, and www.austriancharts.at.

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(All Internet sources last retrieved: December 10, 2015) Abeler, O. (2010). Rammstein ist das Hochamt für deutsche Sprache. In Die Welt, 13/12, from: http://www.welt.de/kultur/musik/article11607200/Rammstein-ist-das-Hochamtfuer-deutsche-Sprache.html Adam, H., Aydin, Y., Cetin, Z., Doymus, M., Engelmann, J., Henning, A., & Witte, S. (Eds.) (2010). Pop Kultur Diskurs: Zum Verhältnis von Gesellschaft, Kulturindustrie und Wissenschaft. Mainz: Ventil. Adelt, U. (2012). Machines with a Heart: German Identity and the Music of Can and Kraftwerk. In Popular Music and Society, 35 (3) (pp. 359–374). Adler, G. (1885). Umfang, Methode und Ziel der Musikwissenschaft. In Vierteljahresschrift für Musikwissenschaft, 1 (pp. 5–20). Göttingen: DigiZeitschriften e.V. Adorno, T. W. (1932). Zur gesellschaftlichen Lage der Musik. In Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung, 1 (pp. 103–165). Adorno, T. W. (1941, 1980). On Popular Music. In Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung, 9 (pp. 17–48). Reprint. Adorno, T. W. (1962, 1968). Einleitung in die Musiksoziologie: Zwölf theoretische Vorlesungen. Revised edition. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Adorno, T. W. (1992). Einleitung in die Musiksoziologie: Zwölf theoretische Vorlesungen. 8th ed. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Adorno, T. W. (2001). Zu einer Theorie der musikalischen Reproduktion (1925/1946). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Agentur für soziale Perspektiven  – asp e. V. (Ed.) (2013). Versteckspiel, Lifestyle, Symbole & Codes von Neonazis und extrem Rechten. Hamburg: Reihe antifaschistischer Texte. Ahlers, M. (Ed.) (2015). Popmusik-Vermittlung zwischen Schule, Universität und Beruf. Münster, Berlin: LIT. Albiez, S., & Lindvig, K. T. (2011). Autobahn und Heimatklänge: Soundtracking the FRG. In S. Albiez & D. Pattie (Eds.), Kraftwerk: Music Non-Stop (pp. 15–43). New York and London: Continuum. Albiez, S., & Pattie, D. (Eds.) (2011). Kraftwerk: Music Non-Stop. New York and London: Continuum. Altrogge, M. (2000). Tönende Bilder: Interdisziplinäre Studie zu Musik und Bildern in Videoclips und ihrer Bedeutung für Jugendliche. Berlin: Vistas.

266  References and further reading Anders, T. (2011). 100 Prozent anders. Mein Leben – und die Wahrheit über Modern Talking, Nora und Dieter Bohlen. Höfen: Edition Koch. Anderson, B. (1991). Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso. Annas, M.,  & Christoph, R. (Eds.) (1993). Neue Soundtracks für den Volksempfänger: Nazirock, Jugendkultur und rechter Mainstream. Berlin: ID-Archiv. Anonymous (1964). Gema, Germany’s ASCAP, Rolls Up $25,500,500 Take in ’63. In Variety, 18/11, p. 49. Anonymous (1973b). Prinzip der Freude. In Der Spiegel, 1/10, no page. Anonymous (1979). GEMA ’78 Income Peak $225-Mil. In Variety, 25/7, p. 2. Anonymous (2000). Haben Sie Techno Erfunden? Stockhausen: Ja: Karlheinz Stockhausen im Interview (1998). In De:Bug, 26/1, from: http://de-bug.de/mag/424/ Anz, P., & Walder, P. (1995). Techno. Zürich: Bilgerverlag. Appen, R. v. (2005). Die Wertungskriterien der Deutschland sucht den Superstar-Jury vor dem Hintergrund sozialer Milieus und kulturindustrieller Strategien. In D. Helms & T. Phleps (Eds.), Keiner wird gewinnen. Popularmusik im Wettbewerb. Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 33 (pp. 187–208). Bielefeld: Transcript. Appen, R. v. (2007). Der Wert der Musik: Zur Ästhetik des Populären. Bielefeld: Transcript. Appen, R. v., Doehring, A., Helms, D., & Moore, A. F. (Eds.) (2015). Song Interpretation in Twenty-first-Century Pop Music. Farnham: Ashgate. Appen, R. v., Grosch, N., & Pfleiderer, M. (Eds.) (2014). Populäre Musik: Geschichte – Kontexte – Forschungsperspektiven. Laaber: Laaber. Archiv der Jugendkulturen (2012). Der zweite Blick, from: http://der-z-weite-blick.de/ themen/die-grauzone Asriel, A. (1966). Jazz: Analysen und Aspekte. Berlin: Lied der Zeit. Augustin, G. (2005). Der Pate des Krautrock: Ein Zeitzeuge erinnert sich. Berlin: Bodworth. Auslander, P. (1999). Liveness: Performance in a Mediatized Culture. London: Routledge. Baacke, D. (1968). Beat – die sprachlose Opposition. München: Juventa. Baacke, D. (1972). Jugend und Subkultur. München: Juventa. Baacke, D. (1993). Jugend und Jugendkulturen. 2nd ed. München: Juventa. Bachmann, F. (1967). Tanzmusik und Gesellschaft: Zu einigen Fragen der Entwicklung von Tanzmusik und Schlagerlied. Leipzig: Zentralhaus für Kulturarbeit. Bachmann, F. (1972). Rezeptionskundliche Untersuchungen zur Tanzmusik in der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik, Beiträge zur musikwiss: Forschung in der DDR 4. Leipzig: Deutscher Verlag für Musik. Balzer, J. (2007). Ein exklusives Angebot für alle Rammstein-Fans. In Berliner Zeitung, 12/12, from: http://www.berliner-zeitung.de/archiv/ein-exklusives-angebot-fuer-allerammstein-fans,10810590,10524906.html Bargeld, B. (1988). Stimme frisst Feuer. Berlin: Merve. Barthes, R. (1987). Incidents. Paris: Éditions du Seuil. Bartosch, R. (2011). Heavy Metal Studies: Vol: 1: Lyrics und Intertextualität. Oberhausen: Schmenk. Bauckhage, T. (2002). Das Ende vom Lied? Zum Einfluß der Digitalisierung auf die internationale Musikindustrie. Stuttgart: Ibidem. Baumgärtner, M.,  & Diehl, J. (2013). Rechtsextremes Netzwerk ‘Blood and Honour’: ‘Jeder hat gegen jeden gekämpft’. In Spiegel Online Panorama, from: http://www. spiegel.de/panorama/justiz/blood-honour-aus-dem-innenleben-des-rechtsextremennetzwerks-a-898362.html

References and further reading  267 Baumgartner, U. (1988). Standards als Problem der ästhetischen Theorie und Praxis der populären Musik: FPM-Publikationen 14. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Baumgartner, U., Binas, S., & Zocher, P. (1989). Alternativrock in der DDR: FPMPublikationen 27. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Becker, T. (2013). Die Anfänge der Schlagerindustrie: Intermedialität und wirtschaftliche Verflechtung vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg. In Lied und Populäre Kultur, 58 (pp. 11–40). Behne, K.-E. (1986). Hörertypologien: Zur Psychologie des jugendlichen MusikGeschmacks. Regensburg: Bosse. Behrens, R. (2003). Die Diktatur der Angepassten: Texte zur kritischen Theorie der Popkultur. Bielefeld: Transcript. Bennett, A. (2008). ‘Things They Do Look Awful Cool’: Ageing Rock Icons and Contemporary Youth Audiences. In Leisure [Loisir], 32 (pp. 245–258). Bennett, A. (2009). ‘Heritage Rock’: Rock Music, Representation and Heritage Discourse. In Poetics, 37 (pp. 474–489). Berendt, J. E. (1953). Das Jazzbuch. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer. Berendt, J. E. (1959). Das Neue Jazzbuch: Entwicklung und Bedeutung der Jazzmusik. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer. Bertram, L. (1988). Zur Spezifik der Rockmusik im Rundfunk der DDR: FPMPublikationen 24. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Bhabha, H. K. (1990). Introduction: Narrating the Nation. In H. K. Bhabha (Ed.), Nation and Narration (pp. 1–7). London: Routledge. Bielefeldt, C., Dahmen, U., & Großmann, R. (Eds.) (2008). PopMusicology: Perspektiven der Popmusikwissenschaft. Bielefeld: Transcript. Binas, S. (1989). Gib Power: Zum gestischen Repertoire im Heavy Metal. In Journal für Unterhaltungskunst, I (2) (pp. 3–12). Binas, S. (1991). Im musikalischen Niemandsland – Unerhörte Produktionen am Rande der Rockkultur. In Texte zur aktuellen Musik, 9 (pp. 9–15). Binas, S. (1992). ‘Keep It Heavy, Keep It Hard’: Zu einigen Aspekten soziokorporeller Kommunikationsmuster im Prozess der Geschlechtersozialisation. In PopScriptum, 1 (pp. 96–111). Binas, S. (1996). Die ‘anderen Bands’ und ihre Kassettenproduktionen – Zwischen organsiertem Kulturbetrieb und selbstorgansierten Kulturformen. In P. Wicke & L. Müller (Eds.), Rockmusik und Politik: Analysen, Interviews und Dokumente (pp. 48–62). Berlin: Christoph Links. Binas, S. (1997). Popmusik im regionalen Kulturprozess. In Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (Ed.), Jugend-Musik-Kultur-Struktur (pp. 10–20). Berlin, Köln: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik and Institut für Musik und Kommunikationswirtschaft. Binas, S. (Ed.) (2000). PopScriptum, 5, from: http://www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/ themen/pst05/index.htm Binas-Preisendörfer, S. (1991). Rockmusik, kulturelles Medium Jugendlicher: Eine Untersuchung zur Praxis und Theorie kultureller Formen im Symbolsystem von Rockmusik. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Binas-Preisendörfer, S. (2001). ‘Ost-West-Durchbrüche’ – Zur aktuellen Bedeutung des DDR-Pop-Undergrounds am Beispiel von Rammstein und Tarwater. In J. Bonz (Ed.), Sound Signatures: Pop-Splitter (pp. 61–81). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Binas-Preisendörfer, S. (2006). East-West Breakthroughs: The Significance of the GDR Pop Underground Today. In E. Larkey (Ed.), A Sound Legacy? Music and Politics in East Germany (pp. 26–41). New York: The John Hopkins University.

268  References and further reading Binas-Preisendörfer, S. (2010). Klänge im Zeitalter ihrer medialen Verfügbarkeit: Popmusik auf globalen Märkten und in lokalen Kontexten. Bielefeld: Transcript. Binas-Preisendörfer, S. (2011). Life is live – Faszination und Konjunktur des Popkonzerts, Überlegungen zur Performativität medienvermittelter musikkultureller Praktiken. In C. Jost & K. Neumann-Braun (Eds.), Populäre Musik – mediale Musik, Transdisziplinäre Beiträge zu den Medien populärer Musik (pp. 131–146). Baden-Baden: Nomos. Binas-Preisendörfer, S., Bonz, J., & Butler, M. (Eds.) (2014). Pop/Wissen/Transfers: Zur Kommunikation und Explikation populärkulturellen Wissens. Münster, Berlin: LIT. Binas-Preisendörfer, S., & Unseld, M. (Eds.) (2012). Transkulturalität und Musikvermittlung: Möglichkeiten und Herausforderungen in Forschung, Kulturpolitik und musikpädagogischer Praxis. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Binkowski, B. (1962). Schlager im Unterricht. In E. Valentin (Ed.), Handbuch der Schulmusik. Regensburg: Bosse, pp. 177–190. Bisky, L. (1982a). Untersuchungsergebnisse zum Rezeptionsverhalten beim Umgang mit Angeboten der Medienunterhaltung: Beilage zur Zeitschrift ‘Unterhaltungskunst’. Berlin: Komitee für Unterhaltungskunst. Bisky, L. (1982b). Zur soziologischen Analyse kultureller Massenprozesse. In Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie, 30 (6) (pp. 732–741). Bisky, L., & Wiedemann, D. (1982). Geistig-kulturelle Ansprüche und Aktivitäten der Jugend. In Die Einheit, XXXVI (10) (pp. 32–57). Blacking, J. (1991). Die Schaffung kunstwertiger populärer Musik. In G. Mayer (Ed.), Pop: Aufsätze zur populären Musik (pp. S. 83–87). Berlin: Zyankrise. Blazanovič, M. (2011). Eine kleine Sozialgeschichte der Berliner Echtzeitmusikszene. In B. Beins, C. Kesten, G. Nauk & A. Neumann (Eds.), Echtzeitmusik Berlin: Selbstbestimmung einer Szene (pp. 29–52). Hofheim: Wolke. Blazanovič, M. (2012). Echtzeitmusik: The Social and Discursive Contexts of a Contemporary Music Scene. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität, from: http://edoc.hu-berlin.de/ docviews/abstract.php?lang=ger&id=40714 Bloss, M. (1984). Historischer Abriß über die Entwicklungstendenzen des Beat in der DDR als Beitrag zur musikkulturellen Analyse: FPM-Publikationen 5. Berlin: Forschungsstelle populäre Musik. Bloss, M. (1990). Popularität: Aspekte zum Funktions- und Wirkungszusammenhang populärer Musik. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Bloss, M. (1993). ‘Weibliche Schlüsse’ als Anfang feministischer Musik-Kritik?  – Anmerkungen zu einem Konzept. In M. Kersten & T. Plebuch (Eds.), Zwischentöne 13: Musikgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte (pp. 41–44). Freiburg: Edition Zwischentöne. Bloss, M. (1994). Weiblichkeit als Kulturbarriere? ‘.  .  . so spielen wie ein Mann’: Eine Untersuchung mit Berliner Musikerinnen. In Autorenkollektiv (Ed.), Zwischen Rausch und Ritual (pp. 70–80). Berlin: Zyankrise. Bloss, M. (1997). Arrangements der Geschlechter: Konzeptualisierungen von Männlichkeit und Weiblichkeit in populärer Musik. In G. Völger (Ed.), Sie und Er: Frauenmacht und Männerherrschaft im Kulturvergleich, Vol. II (pp.  231–236). Köln: Rautenstrauch-Joest. Bloss, M. (1998). The Making of Boys and Girls: Some Thoughts on a Current Phenomenon of Popular Music. In Debatte: Review of Contemporary German Affairs, VI (2) (pp. 157–172). Bloss, M. (2000a). Musik(fernsehen) und Geschlecht hören? In P. Wicke (Ed.), Rockund Popmusik, Handbuch der Musik im 20: Jahrhundert, Bd. 8 (pp. 187–226). Laaber: Laaber.

References and further reading  269 Bloss, M. (2000b). Musikwissenschaft – Geschlecht und Geschlechterverhältnisse im Diskurs von Musikwissenschaft und Popmusikforschung. In C. Braun & I. Stephan (Eds.), Gender Studien: Eine Einführung (pp. 313–327). Stuttgart, Weimar: J. B. Metzler. Boa, E., & Palfreyman, P. (2000). Heimat: A German Dream: Regional Loyalties and National Identity in German Culture 1890–1990. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Bock, K., Meier, S., & Süß, G. (Eds.) (2007). HipHop Meets Academia: Globale Spuren eines lokalen Kulturphänomens. Bielefeld: Transcript. Boehmer, K. (1970). Zwischen Reihe und Pop, Musik und Klassengesellschaft. Wien: Jugend und Volk. Bohlen, D. (2002). Nichts als die Wahrheit. München: Heyne. Bonfadelli, H. (2004). Medienwirkungsforschung 1: Grundlagen und theoretische Perspektiven. Stuttgart: UTB. Bonz, J. (Ed.) (2001). Sound Signatures: Pop-Splitter. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Bonz, J. (Ed.) (2002). Popkulturtheorie. Mainz: Ventil. Bonz, J. (2008). Subjekte des Tracks: Ethnografie einer postmodernen/anderen Subkultur. Berlin: Kadmos. Bonz, J. (2015). Alltagsklänge – Einsätze einer Kulturanthropologie des Hörens. Wiesbaden: Springer VS. Borgstedt, S. (2006a). ‘Le concèrt c’est moi’ – Strukturelle Determinanten musikalischen Startums und ihr historischer Kontext. In Schweizer Jahrbuch für Musikwissenschaft, Neue Folge, 25 (pp. 113–131). Borgstedt, S. (2006b). Stars und Images. In H. de la Motte-Haber & H. Neuhoff (Eds.), Handbuch der Systematischen Musikwissenschaft, Vol. 4 (Musiksoziologie) (pp. 327– 338). Laaber: Laaber. Borgstedt, S. (2007). Maria als Geschäftsmodell: Die Inszenierung eines kulturellen Stereotyps am Beispiel der Sängerinnen Jenny Lind und Madonna. In M. Bick, B. Borchard, K. Hottmann & K. Warnke (Eds.), Modell Maria (pp. 223–236). Hamburg: Bockel. Borgstedt, S. (2008). Der Musik-Star: Vergleichende Imageanalysen von Alfred Brendel, Stefanie Hertel und Robbie Williams. Bielefeld: Transcript. Borris, S. (1977). Popmusik – Kunst aus Provokation. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel. Bossart, P. (2011). Der Drogenpapst, Polo Hofer und das LSD. In Der Bund, 12/11, no page. Bowie, D., & Loder, K. (1989). Sound and Vision. CD liner notes. n.a. Bowler, A. (1991). Politics as Art: Italian Futurism and Fascism. In Theory and Society, 20 (6) (pp. 763–794). Brackett, P. (2015). Disco. In Grove Music Online: Oxford Music Online, from: http:// www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/46627 Braha, L. v. (1983). Phänomene der Rockmusik. Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshoven. Brand, V. (1993). Jugendkulturen und jugendliches Protestpotential. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Brauck, M.,  & Kühn, A. (2012). Am Ende des Ellenbogens: Ein Jahrzehnt nach dem Beginn des deutschen Casting-Booms bröckeln bei fast allen Shows die Quoten: Der lange kultivierte Karriere-ist-Kampf-Egoismus wirkt neuerdings merkwürdig deplatziert. In Der Spiegel, 12 (pp. 144–146). Breitenborn, U. (2010). Bombenhagel und Eiserner Vorhang: Heavy-Metal-Subkultur im Staatsradio. In S. Trültzsch & T. Wilke (Eds.), Heißer Sommer – Coole Beats: Zur populären Musik und ihren medialen Repräsentationen in der DDR (pp. 105–118). Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.

270  References and further reading Bretschneider, S. (2015). Popmusik im Nachkriegs-Dresden: Akteure und Strategien in einer deutschen ‘Musikstadt’, 1945–1960. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Brewster, B., & Broughton, F. (2006). Last Night a DJ Saved My Life: The History of the Disc Jockey. Updated edition. London: Headline Book. Briggs, J. (2015). East of Teenaged Eden, or: Is Eastern Youth Culture So Different from the West. In W. J. Risch & J. Briggs (Eds.), Youth and Rock in the Soviet Bloc: Youth Cultures, Music, and the State in Russia and Eastern Europe (pp. 259–260). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Brinkmann, R. (Ed.) (1978). Avantgarde, Jazz, Pop: Tendenzen zwischen Tonalität und Atonalitat (pp. 60–74). Mainz: Schott. Brömse, P., & Kötter, E. (1971). Zur Musikrezeption Jugendlicher: Eine psychometrische Untersuchung. Mainz: Schott. Bruhn, H., Oerter, R., & Rösing, H. (Eds.) (1997). Musikpsychologie: Ein Handbuch. 2nd ed. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Brunner, G. (2007). Rezeption und Wirkung von Rechtsrock: Eine Annäherung. In Bundesprüfstelle für jugendgefährdende Medien, Aktuell, 1 (pp. 3–18). Brunner, G. (2011a). Kraftschlag – rechtsextreme Musik: Eine Annäherung an ihre Rezeption und Wirkung. In G. Hofmann (Ed.), Musik und Gewalt (pp. 99–121). Augsburg: Wißner. Brunner, G. (2011b). Rechtsextreme Musik – Verbreitung und Bedeutung für Schülerinnen und Schüler. In O. Nimczik (Ed.), Brennpunkt Musik: Kongressbericht 28: Bundesschulmusikwoche Frankfurt 2010 (pp. 187–205). Mainz: Schott. Brunner, G., & Gründer, R. (2011). ‘So einen Scheiß lade ich nicht auf mein Laptop’: Auswertung einer Studie zum Umgang von Schülern mit rechtsradikaler Musik. In Samples, 10 (pp. 1–33), from: http://aspm.ni.lo-net2.de/samples/Samples10/brunnergruender.pdf Brüstle, C. (Ed.) (2015). Pop-Frauen der Gegenwart: Körper – Stimme – Image: Vermark­ tungsstrategien zwischen Selbstinszenierung und Fremdbestimmung. Bielefeld: Transcript. Bubmann, P. (1990). Sound zwischen Himmel und Erde: Populäre christliche Musik. Stuttgart: Quell. Buckley, D. (2012). Kraftwerk – Publikation: A Biography. London: Omnibus Press. Budde, D. (1997). ‘Take Three Chords . . . ’ Punkrock und die Entwicklung zum American Hardcore. Karben: CODA. Budde, D. (1998). Stil und Stilbegriff in populärer Musik. In H. Rösing & T. Phleps (Eds.), Populäre Musik, Politik und mehr . . . Ein Forschungsmedley: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 21/22 (pp. 44–59). Karben: CODA. Bundesverband Musikindustrie (Ed.) (2014). Musikindustrie in Zahlen 2013. Berlin: Bundesverband Musikindustrie. Burkhalter, T. (2013). Local Music Scenes and Globalization: Transnational Platforms in Beirut. London: Routledge. Burkhalter, T., Jacke, C., & Passaro, S. (2012). Das Stück ‘Wanabni’ der Palästinenserin Kamilya Jubran und des Schweizers Werner Hasler im multilokalen Hörtest: Eine multiperspektivische Analyse. In D. Helms & T. Phleps (Eds.), Black Box Pop: Analysen populärer Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 38 (pp.  227–256). Bielefeld: Transcript. Burkhart, B. (2015). Rhythmus und Mikrotiming in Reggae- und Dancehall-Riddims: Zur Analyse stilspezifischer Gestaltungsweisen und Entwicklungslinien. In Samples, 13, from: www.gfpm-samples.de/Samples13/burkhart.pdf Burns, R. (2008). German Symbolism in Rock Music: National Signification in the Imagery and Songs of Rammstein. In Popular Music, 27 (3) (pp. 457–472).

References and further reading 271 Busse, B. (1976). Der deutsche Schlager: Eine Untersuchung zur Produktion, Distribution und Rezeption von Trivialliteratur. Wiesbaden: Athenaion. Büsser, M. (1996). The Art of Noise: Eine kleine Geschichte der Sound Culture. In Testcard: Beiträge zur Popgeschichte, 3, Sound (pp. 6–19). Büsser, M. (1997). Die verwaltete Jugend: Techno vs. Punk. In SPoKK (Ed.), Kursbuch Jugendkultur: Stile, Szenen und Identitäten vor der Jahrtausendwende (pp. 80–88). Mannheim: Bollmann. Büsser, M. (1998). Antipop. Mainz: Dreieck. Butler, J. (1991). Das Unbehagen der Geschlechter. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Casapicola, A. M. C. (2005). Die Scham-Lust des Gesehenwerdens: Phänomene der Aufmerksamkeit in der österreichischen Castingsendung Starmania. In Samples, 4 (pp. 24–36). Clarke, J., Hall, S., Jefferson, T., & Roberts, B. (2006). Subcultures, Cultures and Class. In S. Hall & T. Jefferson (Eds.), Resistance through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Post-war Britain. 2nd ed. (pp. 3–59). London: Routledge. Clement, M., & Schusser, O. (Eds.) (2005). Ökonomie der Musikindustrie. Wiesbaden: Gabler Edition Wissenschaft. Cohen, S. (2001). Popular Music, Gender and Sexuality. In S. Frith, W. Straw & J. Street (Eds.), The Cambridge Companion to Pop and Rock (pp. 226–242). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Connor, H. (1931). Die Schlagerindustrie im Rundfunk. In Die Weltbühne, 27 (2) (pp. 67–69). Cope, J. (1995). Krautrocksampler: One Head’s Guide to the Great Kosmische Musik – 1968 onwards. Yatesbury: Head Heritage. Cosmic Jokers (1974). Gilles Zeitschiff [LP]. N.N.: Kosmische Musik. Covach, J. (2006). What’s That Sound? An Introduction to Rock and Its History. New York: W.W. Norton. Cutler, C. (1991). Was ist populäre Musik? In G. Mayer (Ed.), Pop: Aufsätze zur populären Musik (pp. 120–129). Berlin: Zyankrise. Czerny, P., & Hofmann, H. P. (1968). Der Schlager: Ein Panorama der leichten Musik, Band 1. Berlin: Lied der Zeit. Dahlhaus, C. (Ed.) (1967). Studien zur Trivialmusik des 19: Jahrhunderts. Regensburg: Bosse. Dath, D. (2005). Die salzweißen Augen: Vierzehn Briefe über Drastik und Deutlichkeit. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Dauer, A. M. (1958). Der Jazz: Seine Ursprünge und seine Entwicklung. Kassel: Röth. Dauer, A. M. (1993). ‘Don’t Call My Music Jazz!’. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Aspekte zur Geschichte populärer Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 11 (pp. 42–55). Baden-Baden: CODA. Davis, E. (2009). Das Kosmische: Krautrock and the Sublime. In N. Kotsopoulos (Ed.), Krautrock: Cosmic Rock and Its Legacy (pp. 32–39). London: Black Dog. Dedekind, H. (2008). Krautrock: Underground, LSD und Kosmische Kuriere. Höfen: Hannibal. Denk, F., & von Thülen, S. (2014). Der Klang der Familie – Berlin, Techno und die Wende. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Deutsche Phono-Akademie (Ed.) (1977). Lexikon Pop: Ein Sachwort-ABC der Unterhaltungsmusik von Operette und Schlager bis Folk, Jazz und Rock. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel. Diederichsen, D. (1988). Wort auf! In Spex, 9 (pp. 34–35).

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References and further reading  273 Elflein, D. (2010). Schwermetallanalysen: Die musikalische Sprache des Heavy Metal. Bielefeld: Transcript. Elflein, D. (2015). Can’t Get Laid in Germany – Rammstein: Pussy (2009). In R. v. Appen, R. A. Doehring, D. Helms & A. Moore (Eds.), Song Interpretation in twenty-firstCentury Pop Music (pp. 97–114). Farnham: Ashgate. Ellis, B. E. (1985). Less Than Zero. London: Penguin. Elverich, G., Glaser, M., & Schlimbach, T. (2009). Rechtsextreme Musik: Ihre Funktion für jugendliche Hörer/innen und Antworten der pädagogischen Praxis: Vol: 9. Deutsches Jugendinstitut e. V., from: http://www.dji.de/bibs/96_11763_Rechtsextreme_Musik_ Funktionen_fuer_Jugendliche_und_paedagogische_Antworten.pdf Engelmann, B. (1985). Gebrauchsweisen von ‘Jugendmusik’: Über das Massenmedium Rundfunk: FPM-Publikationen 10. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Engels, F., & Marx, K. (2008). The Communist Manifesto. In N. H. Barma & S. K. Vogel (Eds.), The Political Economy Reader (pp. 41–62). London: Routledge. Erlmann, V. (Ed.) (1991). Populäre Musik in Afrika. Berlin: Reimer. Erlmann, V. (1998). Musikkultur. In H. Bruhn & H. Rösing (Eds.), Musikwissenschaft: Ein Grundkurs (pp. 70–90). Reinbek: Rowohlt. Ernst, V. (1965). Der westdeutsche Schlagerkult um 1960: Eine soziologische, ästhetische und experimentell-musikakustische Studie. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Eshun, K. (1998). More Brilliant Than the Sun: Adventures in Sonic Fiction. Northampton: Interlink Publishing Group Incorporated. Fahlenbrach, K.,  & Viehoff, R. (2003). Die Dynamisierung der visuellen Ästhetik des Fernsehens: Am Beispiel der medialen Inszenierung von Jugendkultur im Beat-Club. In M. Estermann & R. Lersch (Eds.), Buch, Buchhandel und Rundfunk: 1968 und die Folgen (pp. 110–141). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Farin, K. (2006). Jugendkulturen in Deutschland – 1950–1989. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Faulstich, W. (1978). Rock – Pop – Beat – Folk: Grundlagen der Textmusik-Analyse. Tübingen: Narr Francke Attempto. Faulstich, W. (1994). Die Rockmusik der 80er Jahre. Bardowick: Wissenschaftler Verlag. Felber, H. (1991). Gebrauch populärer Musik durch Jugendliche der DDR: Theoretische und empirische Aspekte eines Massenphänomens. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Fetthauer, S. (2000). Deutsche Grammophon: Geschichte eines Schallplattenunternehmens im ‘Dritten Reich’. Neumünster: von Bockel. Fischer, M., Hörner, F., & Jost, C. (Eds.) (2015). Songlexikon, from: http://www. songlexikon.de/artists/index_html#zuR Fisher, M. (2014). Ghosts of My Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures. Winchester: Zero Books. Fiske, J. (2001). Die populäre Ökonomie. In R. Winter & L. Mikos (Eds.), Die Fabrikation des Populären: Der John Fiske Reader (pp. 111–137). Bielefeld: Transcript. Flath, B., & Klein, E. (Eds.) (2014). Advertising and Design: Interdisciplinary Perspectives on a Cultural Field. Bielefeld: Transcript. Flender, R., & Rauhe, H. (1989). Popmusik – Aspekte ihrer Geschichte, Funktionen, Wirkung und Ästhetik. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Ford, S. (1999). Wreckers of Civilization: The Story of COUM Transmissions & Throbbing Gristle. London: Black Dog. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (1987). Populäre Musik in den Fachschul- und Graduierungsarbeiten der Hoch- und Fachschulen, Universitäten und Akademien der DDR. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik.

274  References and further reading Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (1993). Popmusik zwischen Kulturförderung und Kulturwirtschaft: Internationale wissenschaftlich-kulturpolitische Konferenz. Berlin, Köln: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik and Institut für Musik und Kommunikationswirtschaft. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (1994). Popmusik als regionaler Wirtschaftsfaktor: Internationale wissenschaftlich-kulturpolitische Konferenz. Berlin, Dresden: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik and Kultusministerium des Freistaates Sachsen. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (1996). Grounding Music, from: http://www2.huberlin.de/fpm/research/conf_9605.pdf Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (1997). Jugend-Musik-Kultur-Struktur: Popmusik als sozialisierende Infrastruktur. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (2001). PopScriptum, 7, from: http://www.popscriptum. hu-berlin.de/themen/pst07/index.htm Freeman, S., & Freeman, A. (1997). The Crack in the Cosmic Egg: Encyclopedia of Krautrock, Kosmische Musik, and Other Progressive, Experimental and Electronic Musics from Germany. Leicester: Audion. Friedrich, M. (2010). Urbane Klänge: Popmusik und Imagination der Stadt. Bielefeld: Transcript. Friedrichsen, M., Gerloff, D., Grusche, T., & Damm, T. v. (2004). Die Zukunft der Musikindustrie: Alternatives Medienmanagement für das MP3- Zeitalter. München: Reinhard Fischer. Frith, S. (1991). Die Soziologie des Rock – Notizen aus Britannien. In G. Mayer (Ed.), Pop: Aufsätze zur populären Musik (pp. 53–64). Berlin: Zyankrise. Frith, S. (2007). Taking Popular Music Seriously: Selected Essays. Aldershot: Ashgate. Frith, S., & McRobbie, A. (1990). Rock and Sexuality. In S. Frith & A. Goodwin (Eds.), On Record: Rock, Pop and the Written Word (pp. 371–389). London: Routledge. Fuhr, M. (2007). Populäre Musik und Ästhetik: Die historisch-philosophische Rekonstruktion einer Geringschätzung. Bielefeld: Transcript. Funk-Hennigs, E. (2006). Neuere Entwicklungen in der deutschen Rechtsrock-Szene. In D. Helms & T. Phleps (Eds.), Cut and Paste: Schnittmuster der populären Musik der Gegenwart: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 34 (pp. 97–114). Bielefeld: Transcript. Gabriel, G. (1995). Truck Stop, Tom Astor und ich. On Temporausch. München: Koch. Gauß, S. (2009). Nadel, Rille, Trichter: Kulturgeschichte des Phonographen und des Grammophons in Deutschland (1900–1940). Wien, Köln and Weimar: Böhlau. Gebesmair, A. (2008). Die Fabrikation globaler Vielfalt: Struktur und Logik der transnationalen Popmusikindustrie. Bielefeld: Transcript. Gebesmair, A. (2009). The Transnational Music Industry. In D. B. Scott (Ed.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Popular Musicology (pp. 467–483). Farnham: Ashgate. Geertz, C. (1973). The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. Geertz, C. (1987): Dichte Beschreibung: Beiträge zum Verstehen kultureller Systeme. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Geisenhanslueke, R. (2004). Virtuose Depression. In Die Zeit, 12/8. Geisthövel, A., & Mrozek. B. (Eds.) (2014). Popgeschichte: Vol. 1: Konzepte und Methoden. Bielefeld: Transcript. GEMA (1971). Geschäftsbericht für das Jahr 1970. Berlin: GEMA. Gensch, G., Stöckler, E. M., & Tschmuck, P. (Eds.) (2008). Musikrezeption, Musikdistribution und Musikproduktion: Der Wandel des Wertschöpfungsnetzwerks in der Musikwirtschaft. Wiesbaden: Gabler Edition Wissenschaft. George, N. (1988). The Death of Rhythm & Blues. New York: Omnibus and Penguin Books.

References and further reading 275 Gerlach, C. (1981). Untersuchungen zur Tanzmusik in der DDR: Beiträge zur musikwissenschaftlichen Forschung, Vol: 13. Leipzig: Deutscher Verlag für Musik. Giddens, A. (1984). The Constitution of Society: Outline of the Theory of Structuration. Berkeley: University of California Press. Giddens, A. (1990). Konsequenzen der Moderne. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Gieseler, W., & Schulz-Koehn, D. (1959). Jazz in der Schule. Wolfenbüttel: Möseler. Gilroy, P. (1993) The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Gladstone, E. (1995). Strangers in a Strange Land: Can a Trio of Germans Teach American Indie Rockers Something New? In Alternative Press Magazine, 9 (p. 26). Glogauer, W. (1991). Kriminalisierung von Kindern und Jugendlichen durch Medien: Wirkungen gewalttätiger, sexueller, pornographischer und satanischer Darstellungen. 2nd ed. Baden-Baden: Nomos. Goebbels, H. (1994). Hörstücke 1-3. München: ECM Records. Goer, C., Greif, S., & Jacke, C. (Eds.) (2013). Texte zur Theorie des Pop. Stuttgart: Reclam. Goetz, R. (2009). Loslabern. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Goodman, S. (2010). Sonic Warfare: Sound, Affect, and the Ecology of Fear. Cambridge: MIT Press. Gorkow, A. (2012). Wer zu Lebzeit gut auf Erden. Rammstein – mit Deutschlands größtem Kulturexport auf Tour in Amerika. In Süddeutsche Magazin, 7/6, no page. Görnandt, D. (1989). Medienkonzepte und populäre Musik in der DDR. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Gottlieb, J., & Wald, G. (1994). Smells like Teen Spirit: Riot Grrrls, Revolution and Women in Independent Rock. In A. Ross & T. Rose (Eds.), Microphone Fiends: Youth Music & Youth Culture (pp. 250–274). London: Routledge. Götz, M., & Gather, J. (2012). Die Faszination ‘Castingshow’ – Warum Kinder und Jugendliche Castingshows sehen. In D. Hajok, O. Selg & A. Hackenberg (Eds.), Auf Augenhöhe? Rezeption von Castingshows und Coachingsendungen (pp. 87–100). Konstanz: UVK. Graf, C. (1995). Open Air und populäre Musik. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universitätsverlag. Grossberg, L. (1999). Zur Verortung der Populärkultur. In R. Bromley, U. Göttlich & C. Winter (Eds.), Cultural Studies: Grundlagentexte zur Einführung (pp.  215–236). Lüneburg: Zu Klampen. Gruber, S. (1995). Das Konsumentenverhalten bei Independent-Tonträgern. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Gründer, R., & Scherr, A. (2011). Rechtsextremismus und Rechtspopulismus in Jugendmusikkulturen, from: https://www.ph-freiburg.de/fileadmin/dateien/fakultaet3/sozialwissen schaft/Soziologie/Rechtsrock_dj_final_rg.pdf Güler Saied, A. (2013a). Rap in Deutschland: Musik als Interaktionsmedium zwischen Partykultur und urbanen Anerkennungskämpfen. Bielefeld: Transcript. Güler Saied, A. (2013b). HipHop-Kultur(en) in migrantischen Milieus. In U. Steuten & M. Ottersbach (Eds.), Jugendkulturen-Lebensentwürfe von Jugendlichen mit Migrationshintergrund (pp. 172–192). Oldenburg: IBIS. Güler Saied, A. (2015). Rap in Deutschland: Zwischen virtueller Neu-Inszenierung und realen Anerkennungskämpfen. In T. Mania, M. Rappe & O. Kautny (Eds.), Styles. . . HipHop in Deutschland (pp. 104–118). Münster: Telos Verlag. Gumbrecht, H. U., & Pfeiffer, K. L. (Eds.) (1988). Materialität der Kommunikation. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Haas, W. (1957). Das Schlagerbuch. München: Paul List.

276  References and further reading Hackenberg, A., & Hajok, D. (2012). Orientierung auf Augenhöhe? Der Blick junger Zuschauer auf die Castingshow-Kandidaten. In D. Hajok, O. Selg & A. Hackenberg (Eds.), Auf Augenhöhe? Rezeption von Castingshows und Coachingsendungen (pp. 115– 130). Konstanz: UVK. Hackenberg, A., Hajok, D., & Selg, O. (2011). ‘Ohne Fleiß kein Preis’: Castingshows als mediales Orientierungsangebot Heranwachsender für erfolgreiches Handeln. In merz – medien + erziehung, 55 (4) (pp. 46–52). Hackenberg, A., & Selg, O. (2012). Mehr als eine Live-Bühne – Castingshow-Formate als mediale Bedeutungsangebote für junge Zuschauer. In D. Hajok, O. Selg & A. Hackenberg (Eds.), Auf Augenhöhe? Rezeption von Castingshows und Coachingsendungen (pp. 131–144). Konstanz: UVK. Haertel, H. (1959). Die Lage auf dem Schallplattenmarkt. In Der Musikmarkt, 1 (1) (p. 26). Hafen, R. (1987). Zur Eskapismus-Funktion in der Rockmusik-Rezeption. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Zur Tradition, Rezeption und Produktion von populärer Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 2 (pp. 30–46). Karben: CODA. Hafen, R. (1992). Hedonismus und Rockmusik: Eine empirische Studie zum Live- Erlebnis Jugendlicher. Paderborn: Universitätsverlag. Hafen, R. (1998). Rockmusik – Rezeption in Live-Konzerten. In D. Baacke (Ed.), Handbuch Jugend und Musik (pp. S. 369–380). Opladen: Leske + Budrich. Hajok, D., & Selg, O. (2012). Bohlens Sprüche, Klums Tipps – Der Umgang Heranwachsender mit Castingshow-Jurys. In D. Hajok, O. Selg & A. Hackenberg (Eds.), Auf Augenhöhe? Rezeption von Castingshows und Coachingsendungen (pp. 101–114). Konstanz: UVK. Hamm, C. (1991). Einige Gedanken zur Messung der Popularität in der Musik. In G. Mayer (Ed.), Pop: Aufsätze zur populären Musik (pp. 22–31). Berlin: Zyankrise. Hanáček, M. (2008). Das Sonische als Gegenstand der Ästhetik. In PopScriptum, 10, from: http://www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/themen/pst10/pst10_hanacek.pdf Hanáček, M., Papenburg, J. G., & Schulze, H. (2010). Sound in Media Culture: Portrait eines Forschungsnetzwerkes. In Positionen: Texte zur aktuellen Musik, 85 (pp. 5–10). Handke, P. (1966). Publikumsbeschimpfung und andere Sprechstücke. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Handke, P. (1970). Wind und Meer: Hörspiele. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Hansen, S. (1984). Die Diskothek als gesamtgesellschaftliches Phänomen und ihre Möglichkeiten für die Entwicklung der Musikalität Jugendlicher. Halle: Martin-LutherUniversität. Hartmann, U. (1988). Zwischen Pop und Avantgarde – Bemerkungen zum Coverdesign von Langspielplatten der BEATLES: FPM-Publikationen 15. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Hartmann, U. (1990). Studien zum Coverdesign von Schallplatten aus dem Bereich der populären Musik. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Hartwich-Wiechell, D. (1974). Pop-Musik: Analysen und Interpretationen. Köln: Laaber. Hartwich-Wiechell, D. (1975). Didaktik und Methodik der Popmusik. Frankfurt am Main: Diesterweg. Hartwich-Wiechell, D. (1977). Musikalisches Verhalten Jugendlicher: Ergebnisse einer empirischen Studie, alters-, geschlechts- und schriftspezifisch interpretiert. Frankfurt am Main: Diesterweg. Haupt, E. (1957). Stil- und sprachkundliche Untersuchungen zum deutschen Schlager: unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Vergleichs mit dem Volkslied. München: Ludwig-Maximilians Universität.

References and further reading 277 Hausherr, C., & Schönholzer, A. (1994). Visueller Sound. Luzern: Zyklop. Hawkins, S. (Ed.) (2012). Critical Musicological Reflections: Essays in Honour of Derek B. Scott. Farnham: Ashgate. Hayward, P. (2004). Sci Fidelity – Music, Sound and Genre History. In P. Hayward (Ed.), Off the Planet: Music, Sound and Science Fiction Cinema (pp. 1–29). London: John Libbey. Heatley, M. (2012). CD Liner Notes. In Giorgio Moroder: On the Groove Train: Vol: 1, 1975–1993. Hamburg: Repertoire Records. Hebdige, D. (1979). Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Methuen & Co. Heberer, T. (1994). Yaogun-yinyue: Jugend‚ Subkultur und‚ Rockmusik in China. Münster: LIT. Hecken, T. (2007). Theorien der Populärkultur. Bielefeld: Transcript. Hecken, T. (2009). Pop: Geschichte eines Konzepts 1955–2009. Bielefeld: Transcript. Heesch, F.,  & Höpflinger, A. K. (Eds.) (2014). Methoden der Heavy Metal-Forschung. Münster: Waxmann. Heesch, F.,  & Scott, N. (Eds.) (2016). Heavy Metal, Gender and Sexuality. Farnham: Ashgate. Hegarty, P. (2007). Noise/Music: A History. New York: Continuum. Heiß, J. (1983). Rockmusik und soziale Bewegungen in den USA. Postdam: Pädagogische Hochschule. Heiß, T. (2001). Body-Performances: Zur Geschlechterkonstruktion im Techno. In PopScriptum, 7, from: http://www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/themen/pst07/pst07_heiss.pdf Heidingsfelder, M. (2012). System Pop. Berlin: Kadmos. Heine, M. (2009). Rammstein – öde Tabubrüche für Einfältige. In Berliner Morgenpost, 11/9, no page. Heister, H.-W. (1983). Jazz: Musik aktuell – Analysen, Beispiele, Kommentare, 5. Kassel: Bärenreiter. Heitmeyer, W. (2005). Gruppenbezogene Menschenfeindlichkeit: Die theoretische Konzeption und empirische Ergebnisse aus 2002, 2003 und 2004. In W. Heitmeyer (Ed.), Deutsche Zustände, Folge 3: Berliner Forum Gewaltprävention, 20 (pp. 13–34). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, from: http://www.berlin.de/imperia/md/ content/lblkbgg/bfg/nummer20/03_heitmeyer.pdf?start&ts=1307658481&file=03_ heitmeyer.pdf Helber, P. (2015). Dancehall und Homophobie: Postkoloniale Perspektiven auf die Geschichte und Kultur Jamaikas. Bielefeld: Transcript. Helms, D. (2000). ‘Was die Welten dir zärtlich erzählen’: Anmerkungen zum Anmerkungen zum Schlager als Quelle historischer Forschung. In H. Rösing & T. Phleps (Eds.), Populäre Musik im kulturwissenschaftlichen Diskurs: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 25/26 (pp. 143–168). Karben: CODA. Helms, D. (2008). ‘Was die Quellen dir erzählen’: Schlager als Quelle historischer Forschung. In H. Rösing & T. Phleps (Eds.), Populäre Musik im kulturwissenschaftlichen Diskurs: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 25/26 (pp. 143–168). Karben: CODA. Helms, D., & Phleps, T. (Eds.) (2008). No Time for Losers: Charts, Listen und andere Kanonisierungen in der populären Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 36. Bielefeld: Transcript. Helms, D., & Phleps, T. (Eds.) (2013). Wa(h)re Inszenierungen: Performance, Vermarktung und Authentizität in der populären Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 39. Bielefeld: Transcript. Helms, D., & Phleps, T. (Eds.) (2014a). Geschichte wird gemacht: Zur Historiographie populärer Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 40. Bielefeld: Transcript.

278  References and further reading Helms, D., & Phleps, T. (Eds.) (2014b). Typisch Deutsch: (Eigen-) Sichten auf populäre Musik in diesem unserem Land: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 41. Bielefeld: Transcript. Helms, S. (Ed.) (1972). Schlager in Deutschland: Beiträge zur Analyse der Popularmusik und des Musikmarktes. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel. Helsper, W. (1992). Okkultismus – die neue Jugendreligion? Die Symbolik des Todes und des Bösen in der Jugendkultur. Opladen: Leske + Budrich. Hemming, J. (2016). Methoden der Erforschung populärer Musik. Wiesbaden: Springer VS. Hemming, J., & Kleinen, G. (1999). Karrierebeginn im Popsektor? Eine Tagebuchstudie unter Schülerbands. In G. Kleinen (Ed.), Begabung und Kreativität in der populären Musik (pp. 49–68). Münster: LIT. Hemming, J., Markuse, B., & Marx, W. (2000). Das Studium der Musikwissenschaft in Deutschland: Eine statistische Analyse von Lehrangebot und Fachstruktur. In Die Musikforschung, 53 (pp. 366–388). Henninger, D. (1996). Audiovisuelle Codes: Eine Untersuchung über die Beziehungen zwischen Videoclips, Jugendkulturen und modernen Musikgenres. Marburg: Tectum. Hennion, A. (1991). Einige Gedanken zur Messung der Popularität in der Musik. In G. Mayer (Ed.), Pop: Aufsätze zur populären Musik (pp. 32–39). Berlin: Zyankrise. Hering, W., Hill, B., & Pleiner, G. (Eds.) (1993). Praxishandbuch Rockmusik in der Jugendarbeit. Opladen: Leske + Budrich. Herzberg, M. (2012). Musik und Aufmerksamkeit im Internet: Musiker im Wettstreit um Publikum bei YouTube, Facebook & Co. Marburg: Tectum. Hesmondhalgh, D. (2006). The British Dance Music Industry: A Case Study of Independent Cultural Production. In A. Bennett, B. Shank & J. Toynbee (Eds.), The Popular Music Studies Reader (pp. 246–252). London and New York: Routledge. Heuger, M., & Prell, M. (Eds.) (1995). Popmusik – Yesterday/Today/Tomorrow. Regensburg: ConBrio. Hill, B. (1996). Rockmobil: Eine ethnographische Fallstudie aus der Jugendarbeit. Opladen: Leske + Budrich. Hilsberg, A. (1979a). Neue deutsche Welle: Aus grauer Städte Mauern. In Sounds, 10 (pp. 20–25). Hilsberg, A. (1979b). Neue deutsche Welle (Teil 2): Aus grauer Städte Mauern – Dicke Titten und Avantgarde. In Sounds, 11 (pp. 22–27). Hilsberg, A. (1979c). Macher, Macht Moneten: Aus grauer Städte Mauern (Teil 3). In Sounds, 12 (pp. 44–48). Hodkinson, P. (2002). Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture. Oxford: Berg. Hoffmann, B. (1998).  .  .. und der Jazz ist nicht von Dauer: Zum 75: Geburtstag des Musikethnologen Alfons Michael Dauer. In B. Hoffmann & H. Rösing (Eds.), . . . und der Jazz ist nicht von Dauer: Aspekte afro-amerikanischer Musik (pp. 25–68). Karben: CODA. Hoffmann, M., & Mischke, J. (1987). Auf dem zur Analyse von Rockmusik: Das Erlebnis Rockkonzert: FPM-Publikationen 8. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Höfig, E. (2000). Heimat in der Popmusik: Identität oder Kulisse in der deutschsprachigen Popmusikszenen vor der Jahrtausendwende. Gelsenhausen: Triga. Holert, T.,  & Terkessidis, M. (Eds.) (1996). Mainstream der Minderheiten: Pop in der Kontrollgesellschaft. Berlin: ID-Archiv. Hollows, J. (2000). Youth Culture and Popular Music. In J. Hollows (Ed.), Feminism, Femininity and Popular Culture (pp. 161–188). Manchester: Manchester University Press.

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References and further reading 285 Mischke, J. (1992). Der Pluralismus der ästhetischen Erfahrung oder Wie postmodern ist populäre Musik? In PopScriptum, 1 (pp. 88–95). Mischke, J., & Hoffmann, M. (1988). Analyse der Arbeits- und Lebensbedingungen von Rock- und Popmusikern in der DDR: FPM-Publikationen 23. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Mischke, J., & Müller, L. (1993). Strukturfonds Rockmusik: Ein Fördermodell auf dem Prüfstand. In Forschungszentrum populäre Musik (Ed.), Popmusik zwischen Kulturförderung und Kulturwirtschaft: Internationale wissenschaftlich-kulturpolitische Konferenz (pp.  40–52). Berlin, Köln: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik and Institut für Musik und Kommunikationswirtschaft. Mischke, J., & Müller, L. (1996). Strukturprogramm Rock. Dresden: Freistaat Sachsen and Staatsministerium für Kultus. Mischke, J., & Müller, L. (1999). Studie Rockmusik – Förderkonzepte – Fördermöglichkeiten. Berlin: Kulturstiftung der Ländern and Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Mischke, J., & Müller, L. (2001). Rockmusik im föderalen System der Bundesrepublik Deutschland: Förderkonzepte und Fördermöglichkeiten. In PopScriptum, 6, from: http:// www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/themen/pst06/index.htm Mitterer, J. (1999). Die Flucht aus der Beliebigkeit. Klagenfurt: Drava. Moore, A. F. (2012). Song Means: Analysing and Interpreting Recorded Popular Song. Farnham: Ashgate. Moroder, G. (2000). Interview with Peter Shapiro. In P. Shapiro & I. Lee (Eds.), Modulations: A History of Electronic Music – Throbbing Words on Sound (p. 48). New York: Caipirinha Productions. Moroder, G. (2008). From: www.arte.tv Moser, R.,  & Scheuermann, A. (Eds.) (2003). Handbuch der Musikwirtschaft. 6th ed. München: Keller Motte-Haber, H. d. l. (Ed.) (1972). Das Triviale in Literatur, Musik und bildender Kunst. Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann. Mrozek, B., Geisthövel, A., & Danyel, J. (Eds.) (2014). Popgeschichte: Vol: 2: Zeithistorische Fallstudien 1958–1988. Bielefeld: Transcript. Müllensiefen, D., Lothwesen, K., Tiemann, L., & Matterne, B. (2005). Musikstars in der Wahrnehmung jugendlicher TV-Castingshow-Rezipienten: Eine empirische Untersuchung. In D. Helms & T. Phleps (Eds.), Keiner wird gewinnen: Populäre Musik im Wettbewerb: Beiträge zur Popularmusiforschung 33 (pp. 163–185). Bielefeld: Transcript. Müller, L. (2014). Feministische Popmusikanalyse – Auf der Suche nach Worten. In PopScriptum, 12, from: http://www.popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/themen/pst12/pst12_ mueller01.pdf Müller, R. (1990). Soziale Bedingungen der Umgehensweisen Jugendlicher mit Musik. Essen: Die Blaue Eule. Müller, R., Glogner, P., & Rhein, S. (2007). Die Theorie musikalischer Selbstsozialisation: Elf Jahre. . . und ein bisschen weiser? In W. Auhagen, C. Bullerjahn & H. Höge (Eds.), Musikspsychologie – Musikalische Sozialisation im Kindes- und Jugendalter: Jahrbuch für Musikpsychologie 19 (pp. 11–30). Göttingen: Hogrefe. Müller, W. (Ed.) (1996). Geniale Dilettanten. Berlin: Merve. Nardi, C. (2005). Playing By Eye: Music Software and Visuality. Trento: Università di Trento. Nathaus, K. (2011). From Dance Bands to Radio and Records: Pop Music Promotion in West Germany and the Decline of the Schlager Genre, 1945–1964. In Popular Music History, 6 (3) (pp. 289–309).

286  References and further reading Nathaus, K. (2013). Popular Music in Germany, 1900–1930: A Case of Americanisation? Uncovering a European Trajectory of Music Production into the Twentieth Century. In European Review of History, 20 (5) (pp. 755–776). Nathaus, K. (2014). ‘Moderne Tanzmusik’ für die Mitte der Gesellschaft: Diskotheken und Disk-Jockeys in Westdeutschland, 1960–1978. In J. Danyel, B. Mrozek & A. Geisthövel (Eds.), Popgeschichte: Vol: 2: Fallstudien einer Zeitgeschichte des Populären (pp. 155– 176). Bielefeld: Transcript. Nathaus, K. (2015). Vom polarisierten zum pluralisierten Publikum: Populärmusik und soziale Differenzierung in Westdeutschland, ca. 1950–1985. In S. O. Müller, J. Osterhammel & M. Rempe (Eds.), Kommunikation im Musikleben: Harmonien und Dissonanzen im 20: Jahrhundert (pp. 251–275). Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Nerke, U. (2010). 40 Jahre mein Beat-Club: Meine persönlichen Erlebnisse und Erinnerungen. Braunschweig: Kuhle. Neumann-Braun, K. (Ed.) (1999). Viva MTV! Popmusik im Fernsehen. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Neumann-Braun, K., & Mikos, L. (2006). Videoclips und Musikfernsehen: Eine problemorientierte Kommentierung der aktuellen Forschungsliteratur. Berlin: Vistas. Neumann-Braun, K., Schmidt, A.,  & Mai, M. (Eds.) (2003). Popvisionen: Links in die Zukunft. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Nielsen, U. (2005). 40 Jahre Beat-Club. Berlin: Parthas. Niketta, R. (1979). Experimentelle Untersuchungen zum Einfluß explorationstheoretischer Variablen auf die Rezeption von Rockmusik. Mannheim: Universität Mannheim. Niketta, R., & Volke, E. (1994). Rock und Pop in Deutschland: Ein Handbuch für öffentliche Einrichtungen und andere Interessierte. Essen: Klartext. N.N. (2000). Haben Sie Techno Erfunden? Stockhausen: Ja. Karlheinz Stockhausen im Interview (1998). In De:Bug, 26/1, from: http://de-bug.de/mag/424/ Noglik, B. (1986). Rezeptionsästhetische Aspekte des zeitgenössischen Jazz: Beilage zur Zeitschrift ‘Unterhaltungskunst’. Berlin: Komitee für Unterhaltungskunst. Noglik, B. (1990). Klangspuren: Wege improvisierter Musik. Berlin: Verlag Neue Musik. Noglik, B., & Lindner, H.-J. (1979). Jazz im Gespräch. Berlin: Verlag Neue Musik. Nordmann, E., & Heimann, T. (1994). Rockmusik und Jugend. Münster: LIT. Numinos (2007). Studiobericht: Alter Ego. In Groove, 109 (pp. 74–75). Numinos (2009). Studiobericht Mouse on Mars. In Groove, 118 (pp. 68–69). Numinos (2012). Im Studio: Bernd Friedmann. In Groove, 134 (pp. 78–79). Numinos (2013a). Im Studio: Legowelt. In Groove, 140 (pp. 75–76). Numinos (2013b). Studiotipp. In Groove, 145 (p. 80). Numinos (2014). Im Studio: Vermont. In Groove, 148 (pp. 83–84). Nye, S. (2013). Minimal Understandings: The Berlin Decade, the Minimal Continuum, and Debates on the Legay on German Techno. In Journal of Popular Music Studies, 25 (2) (pp. 154–184). Oerter, R., & Montada, L. (1998). Entwicklungspsychologie. 4th ed. Weinheim: Beltz PVU. Pape, W. (1974). Musikkonsum und Musikunterricht. Düsseldorf: Schwann. Pape, W., & Pickert, D. (1999). Amateurmusiker: Von der klassischen bis zur populären Musik. Perspektiven musikalischer Sozialisation. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Pape, W., & Thomsen, K. (1996). Zur Problematik der Analyse von Videoclips. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Step across the Border: Neue musikalische Trends – neue massenmediale Kontexte: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 19/20 (pp. 200–226). Karben: CODA. Papenburg, J. G. (2001). Techno-Ethik: Die Verkörperung von Klang auf Grund kosmisch gedachter maschineller Strukturen. In PopScriptum, 7, from: http://www.popscriptum. hu-berlin.de/themen/pst07/pst07_papenburg.pdf

References and further reading 287 Papenburg, J. G. (2005). Der Synthesizer als Apriori. In Paragrana: Internationale Zeitschrift für Historische Anthropologie, XIV (2) (pp. 91–104). Papenburg, J. G. (2008a). Hörgeräte: Zur Psychomathematik des akroamatischen Leibniz. In A. Volmar (Ed.), Zeitkritische Medienprozesse (pp. 369–383). Berlin: Kadmos. Papenburg, J. G. (2008b). Stop/Start Making Sense! Ein Ausblick auf Musikanalyse in Popular Music Studies und technischer Medienwissenschaft. In H. Schulze (Ed.), Sound Studies: Traditionen – Methoden – Desiderate (pp. 91–108). Bielefeld: Transcript. Papenburg, J. G. (2010). CD hören: High Fidelity und Medienreferentialität bei Yasunao Tone und Coldcut. In M. Rautzenberg & A. Wolfsteiner (Eds.), Hide and Seek: Das Spiel von Transparenz und Opazität (pp. 227–241). München: Wilhelm Fink. Papenburg, J. G. (2011). Hörgeräte: Technisierung der Wahrnehmung durch Rock- und Popmusik. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität, from: http://edoc.hu-berlin.de/docviews/ abstract.php?lang=ger&id=39239 Papenburg, J. G. (2013). Soundfile: Kultur und Ästhetik einer Hörtechnologie. In Pop: Kultur und Kritik, 2 (2) (pp. 140–155). Papenburg, J. G. (2014). ‘A Great Idea after the Fact’: Das (Er-)Finden der Maxisingle in der New Yorker Discokultur der 1970er Jahre. In B. Mrozek, A. Geisthövel & J. Danyel (Eds.), Popgeschichte: Vol: 2: Zeithistorische Fallstudien 1958–1988 (pp. 179–198). Bielefeld: Transcript. Papenburg, J. G. (2015a). Para-auditive Subjekte in der populären Musik: Eine Kulturund Mediengeschichte. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Papenburg, J. G. (2015b). Plantage, Militär, Maschine: Semantiken populärer afroamerikanischer Musik in Deutschland und ihre Medien, 1900–1925. In M. Fischer & C. Jost (Eds.), Amerika-Euphorie – Amerika-Hysterie: Populäre Musik Made in USA in der Wahrnehmung der Deutschen 1914–2014. Münster, München: Waxmann. In print. Papenburg, J. G., & Schulze, H. (2011). Fünf Begriffe des Klangs: Disziplinierungen und Verdichtungen der Sound Studies. In Positionen: Texte zur aktuellen Musik, 86 (pp. 10–15). Papenburg, J. G., & Schulze, H. (Eds.) (2015). Sound as Popular Culture: A Research Companion. Cambridge: MIT Press. Parsons, T. (1986). Aktor, Situation und Normative Muster. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Paulus, A., & Winter, C. (2014). Musiker als Media-Artepreneure? Digitale Netzwerkmedien als Produktionsmittel und neue Wertschöpfungsprozesse. In U. Breitenborn, T. Düllo & S. Birke (Eds.), Gravitationsfeld POP: Was kann Pop? Was Will Popkulturwirtschaft? Konstellationen in Berlin und anderswo (pp. 133–142). Bielefeld: Transcript. Pendzich, M. (2005). Hit-Recycling: Casting-Shows und die Wettbewerbsstrategie ‘Coverversion’. In D. Helms & T. Phleps (Eds.), Keiner wird gewinnen: Populäre Musik im Wettbewerb: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 33 (pp.  137–150). Bielefeld: Transcript. Pendzich, M. (2008). Von der Coverversion zum Hit-Recycling: Historische, ökonomische und rechtliche Aspekte eines zentralen Phänomens der Pop- und Rockmusik. Münster, Berlin: LIT. Penzel, K. (1986). Institutionalisierung der Rockmusik: FPM-Publikationen 12. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Penzel, K. (1989). Studien zur Institutionalisierung von Rockmusik: DDR-Rockmusik im Gefüge der Institutionen des gesellschaftlichen Kulturbereiches. Berlin: HumboldtUniversität. Perincioli, Cristina (2015). Berlin wird feministisch: Das Beste, was von der 68er Bewegung übrig blieb. Berlin: Querverlag. Petras, O. (2011). Wie Popmusik bedeutet: Eine synchrone Beschreibung popmusikalischer Zeichenverwendung. Bielefeld: Transcript.

288  References and further reading Pfleiderer, M. (2006). Rhythmus: Psychologische, theoretische und stilanalytische Aspekte populärer Musik. Bielefeld: Transcript. Pfleiderer, M. (2002). Thinking in Jazz. Entwicklung und neuere Ansätze der Jazzforschung. In H. Rösing, A. Schneider  & M. Pfleiderer (Eds.), Musikwissenschaft und populäre Musik. Versuch einer Bestandsaufnahme (pp. 37–59). Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Pfleiderer, M., Hähnel, T., Horn, K.,  & Bielefeldt, C. (Eds.) (2015). Stimme, Kultur, Identität: Vokaler Ausdruck in der populären Musik der USA, 1900–1960. Bielefeld: Transcript. Pick, H. (2000). Guilty Victim: Austria from the Holocaust to Haider. London: I.B. Tauris. Pilz, M. (2009). Fritzl, Porno, Pussy – Wie Rammstein um Fans buhlt. In Berliner Morgenpost, 10/16, no page. Pilz, M. (2014). Rammstein – ihre schönsten Skandale und Prozesse. In Die Welt, 18/12, from: http://www.welt.de/13732009. Port le roi, A. (1998). Schlager lügen nicht: Deutscher Schlager und Politik in Ihrer Zeit. Essen: Klartext. Poschardt, U. (1995). DJ-Culture. Frankfurt am Main: Rogner & Bernhard. Poschardt, U. (1997). DJ Culture: Diskjockeys und Popkultur. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Poschardt, U. (2002). Cool. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Pries, L., & Seeliger, M. (2012). Transnational Social Spaces between Methodological Nationalism and ‘Cosmo-Globalism’. In A. Amelina, D. D. Nergitz, N. Faist & N. Glick Schiller (Eds.), Beyond Methodological Nationalism: Social Science Research Methodologies in Transition (pp. 219–238). London: Routledge. Putschögl, G. (1993). John Coltrane und die afro-amerikanische Oraltradition. Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt. Rabe, J.-C. (2009). Harte Worte. In Süddeutsche Zeitung, 11/10, no page. Rapp, T. (2009). Aus der Sicht des Täters. In Der Spiegel, 47, p. 120, from: http://www. spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-67768130.html. Rappe, M. (2010). Under Construction: Kontextbezogene Analyse afroamerikanischer Popmusik. Köln: Dohr. Rau, J. (2008): Rock’n’Roots: Alles über Hamburgs Musikzene: Mit grossem Historyteil und vielen Insidertipps: Die Bands-Die Musiker-Die Clubs-Die Festivals, from: http:// www.guntergabriel.de/biographie/ Rauhe, H. (1962). Musikerziehung durch Jazz. Wolfenbüttel: Möseler. Rauhe, H. (1968a). Zum Wertproblem der Musik: Versuch einer Ästhetik der Trivialität als Grundlage für eine Didaktik der Popularmusik. In Didaktik der Musik, 14 (1967/1968) (pp. 22–44). Hamburg: Erziehung und Wissenschaft. Rauhe, H. (1968b). Kritischer Schallplattenvergleich. In E. Kraus (Ed.), Der Einfluß der technischen Mittler auf die Musikerziehung unserer Zeit (pp.  176–190). Mainz: Schott. Rauhe, H. (1974). Popularität in der Musik. Karlsruhe: Braun. Rauhut, B., & Rauhut, M. (1999). Amiga: Die Diskographie aller Rock- und PopProduktionen 1964–1990. Berlin: Schwarzkopf & Schwarzkopf. Rauhut, M. (1989). Aspekte der Entwicklung des Beat in der DDR in den sechziger Jahren: FPM-Publikationen 30. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Rauhut, M. (1993a). Beat in der DDR 1964 bis 1972: Politische Koordinaten und alltägliche Dimensionen. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Rauhut, M. (1993b). Beat in der Grauzone: DDR-Rock 1964 bis 1972: Politik und Alltag. Berlin: Basis-Druck.

References and further reading 289 Rauhut, M. (1996). Ohr an Masse – Rockmusik im Fadenkreuz der Stasi. In P. Wicke & L. Müller (Eds.), Rockmusik und Politik: Analysen, Interviews und Dokumente, Forschungen zur DDR-Geschichte (pp. 28–47). Berlin: Christoph Links. Rauhut, M. (2002). Rock in der DDR: 1964 bis 1989. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Rauhut, M. (2005). ‘Am Fenster’: Rockmusik und Jugendkultur in der DDR. In B. Lindner (Ed.), Rock! Jugend und Musik in Deutschland (pp. 70–78). Berlin: Christoph Links. Rauhut, M. (2011). Das Kunden-Buch – Blues in Thüringen. Erfurt: Landeszentrale für Politische Bildung Thüringen. Rauhut, M., & Friedrich, A. (1987). Diskographie der Amiga Rockproduktionen: FPMPublikationen 9. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Rauhut, M., & Friedrich, A. (1988a). 1: Ergänzungsteil zur Diskographie der Amiga Rockproduktionen: FPM-Publikationen 17. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Rauhut, M., & Friedrich, A. (1988b). 2: Ergänzungsteil zur Diskographie der Amiga Rockproduktionen: FPM-Publikationen 18. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Rauhut, M., & Friedrich, A. (1988c). 3: Ergänzungsteil zur Diskographie der Amiga Rockproduktionen: FPM-Publikationen 19. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. Rauhut, M., & Kochan, T. (Eds.) (2004). Bye, Bye, Lübben City. Berlin: Schwarzkopf & Schwarzkopf. Rebscher, G. (1973). Materialien zum Unterricht in Popularmusik. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel. Reckwitz, A. (2006). Das hybride Subjekt: Eine Theorie der Subjektkulturen von der bürgerlichen Moderne zur Postmoderne. Weilerswist: Velbrück Wissenschaft. Reckwitz, A. (2012). Die Erfindung der Kreativität: Zum Prozess gesellschaftlicher Ästhetisierung. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Reetze, J. (1992). Die Realität der Medien. Hannover: Metzler Schulbuchverlag. Regev, M. (2007). Ethno-national Pop-Rock Music: Aesthetic Cosmopolitanism Made from within. In Cultural Sociology, 1 (3) (pp. 317–341). Reibetanz, M. (2009). Jugendsubkutur in der DDR – Eine qualitative Untersuchung zu Anhängern der Musikrichtung Heavy Metal. Universität Leipzig: Magisterarbeit. Reichardt, S. (2014). Authentizität und Gemeinschaft: Linksalternatives Leben in den siebziger und frühen achtziger Jahren. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Reichelt, K. (2009). Rammstein: Böse Miene, gutes Spiel. In Tagesspiegel, 20/12, from: http://www.tagesspiegel.de/kultur/pop/konzertkritik-rammstein-boese-miene-gutesspiel/1651580.html Reinecke, H.-P. (1974). ‘Musikalisches Verstehen’ als Aspekt komplementärer Kommunikation. In H.-P. Reinecke & P. Faltin (Eds.), Musik und Verstehen (pp. 258–275). Köln: Arno Volk. Reinecke, H.-P. (1988). Popularmusik und geängstigte Musikologen. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Musikalische Werdegänge: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 5/6 (pp. 5–14). Karben: CODA. Reitsamer, R. (2013). Die Do-It-Yourself-Karrieren der DJs: Über die Arbeit in elektronischen Musikszenen. Bielefeld: Transcript. Reitsamer, R. (2014). ‘Born in the Republic of Austria’: The Invention of Rock Heritage in Austria. In International Journal of Heritage Studies, 20 (3) (pp. 331–342). Reitsamer, R., & Weinzierl, R. (Eds.) (2006). Female Consequences: Feminismus, Antirassismus, Popmusik. Wien: Löcker. Reynolds, S. (1998). Energy Flash: A Journey through Rave Music and Dance Culture. Berkeley: Soft Skull.

290  References and further reading Reynolds, S. (2011). Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to Its Own Past. London: Faber & Faber. Richard, B. (1995). Todesbilder: Kunst Subkultur Medien. München: Wilhelm Fink. Richard, B. (2012). Witchhouse. In B. Richard, H. H. Krüger, P. Bogner & das Künstlerhaus (Eds.), Megacool 4.0: Jugend und Kunst (pp. 95-102). Bielefeld: Kerber. Richard, B., & Krüger, H. H. (Eds.) (2010). Inter-Cool 3.0: Jugend Bild Medien: Ein Kompendium zur aktuellen Jugendkulturforschung. München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag. Richter, G. (1989). Hits und Hitparaden im DDR-Rundfunk: Eine Untersuchung am Beispiel der ‘Wertungssendungen für nationale Rockmusik’ in den 80er Jahren. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Richter, L. (1969). Der Berliner Gassenhauer: Darstellung, Dokumente, Sammlung. Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Richter, L. (1970). Der Berliner Gassenhauer: Darstellung, Dokumente, Sammlung. Leipzig: Dt. Verlag für Musik. Richter, L. (2004). Der Berliner Gassenhauer: Darstellung, Dokumente, Sammlung, Volksliedstudien 4. Münster, München: Waxmann. Richter, P. (2014). Von Berlin haben wir gar nichts: Ein Nachmittag mit den Pionieren des Detroit-Techno stellt die Frage nach der Zukunft des Protestsongs. In Süddeutsche Zeitung, 16/12, p. 11. Riemann, S. (1998). Die Inszenierung von Popmusikern als Popstars in Videoclips: eine Untersuchung anhand der Videoclip-Kompilationen ‘US’ – Peter Gabriel (1993), ‘History’ – Michael Jackson (1995) und ‘Greatest Flix II’ – Queen (1991). Berlin: Pharus. Riggenbach, P. (2000). Funktionen von Musik in der modernen Industriegesellschaft: Eine Untersuchung zwischen Empirie und Theorie. Marburg: Tectum. Rijven, Stan (1989). Introduction. In Popular Music, 8 (3) (pp. 215–218). Robb, D. (2002). Techno in Germany: Its Musical Origins and Cultural Relevance. In GFL German as Foreign Language Journal, 2 (pp. 130–149). Robertson-von Trotha, C. Y. (Ed.) (2013). Celebrity Culture: Stars in der Mediengesellschaft. Baden-Baden: Nomos. Robinson, D. C. (1991). Music at the Margins: Popular Music and Global Cultural Diversity. Newbury Park: Sage. Rock Session (1977). Magazin der populären Musik, Band 1–6. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Rockstroh, J. (2001). Musik im virtuellen Raum: Überlegungen zur Auswirkung des Internets auf den Umgang mit Musik. In Journal of the Franklin Institute, from: http://www2. hu-berlin.de/fpm/wip/rockstroh_01.htm Rollins, H. (1994). Get in The Van. On The Road with Black Flag. Los Angeles: 2.13.16. Rose, T. (1994). Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press. Rosenberg, H. (2008). Heavy Metal in der DDR – Die Geschichte des Ostmetalls. In Eisenblatt, 1 (pp. 6–12), from: http://eisenblatt.ostmetal.de/script/eisen_01.pdf Rösing, H. (1988). Urbane Musikszene – Beispiel Kassel. In E. Jost (Ed.), Musikszene heute (pp. 63–76). Mainz: Schott. Rösing, H. (1994). Aspekte der Rezeption von populärer Musik. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Grundlagen Theorien Perspektiven: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 14 (pp. 63–79). Karben: CODA. Rösing, H. (1996). Was ist ‘Populäre Musik?’ Überlegungen in eigener Sache. In H. Rösing (Ed.), Regionale Stile und volksmusikalische Traditionen in populärer Musik: Beiträge zur Popularmusikforschung 17 (pp. 94–110). Karben: CODA.

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References and further reading 297 Wicke, P. (1989c). Popvideos – Videoclip: Geschichte eines Mediums. In Neues Leben, XXXV (12) (pp. 2–18). Wicke, P. (1989d). Rockmusik – Dimensionen eines Massenmediums. In Weimarer Beiträge, XXXV (6) (pp. 885–906). Wicke, P. (1990a). Meaning Production through Popular Music. In Canadian University Music Review/Revue de musique des universitiés canadienne, 2 (pp. 137–157). Wicke, P. (1990b). Musikindustrie in den USA: FPM-Publikationen 28. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik Wicke, P. (1990c). Perspectives, Possibilities and Problems in the Development of the Music Market in Eastern European Countries: FPM-Publikationen 31. Berlin: Forschunsgzentrum populäre Musik. Wicke, P. (1990d). Popmusik als Medium für die Konstituierung von Lebenstil. In O. Schwenke (Ed.), Lebensstil und Gesellschaft – Gesellschaft der Lebensstile. Loccum: Evangelische Akademie Loccum and Kulturpolitische Gesellschaft. Wicke, P. (1990e). Rock around the Curriculum: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik an der Humboldt-Universität. In Informationen des Musikrats der DDR, 1 (pp. 5–9). Wicke, P. (1990f). Rock Music: Culture – Aesthetics – Sociology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wicke, P. (1991a). Bigger than Life: Rock & Pop in den USA: Porträt einer Musikszene. Leipzig: Reclam. Wicke, P. (1991b). Die Entwicklung der Jugendszenen in der DDR. In R. Jogschies (Ed.), Rock & Pop ’89: Kritische Analysen, Kulturpolitische Alternativen II (pp.  122–139). Hagen: Kulturpolitische Gesellschaft. Wicke, P. (1991c). Estetika i soziologia musika rok. Petrograd: Iskustvo. Wicke, P. (1991d). Forschungszentrum populäre Musik. In Worldbeat: An International Journal of Popular Music, I (1) (pp. 194–197). Wicke, P. (1992a). Jazz, Rock- und Popmusik. In D. Stockmann (Ed.), Volks- und Popularmusik in Europa: Neues Handbuch der Musikwissenschaft 12 (pp. 445–478). Laaber: Laaber. Wicke, P. (1992b). Populäre Musik als theoretisches Konzept. In PopScriptum, 1 (pp. 6–42). Wicke, P. (1992c). The Role of Rock Music in the Political Disintegration of East Germany. In J. Lull (Ed.), Popular Music and Communication (pp. 196–107). Beverly Hills, London and New Dehli: Sage. Wicke, P. (1992d). Stil als kommerzielle Kategorie – Zum Stilbegriff in der populären Musik. In P. Macek (Ed.), Stil in der Musik/Innovationsquellen der Musik des 20: Jahrhunderts – Style in Music/Sources of Innovation of twentieth Century’s Music (pp. 196– 223). Brno: Mazaryk University. Wicke, P. (1992e). The Times They Are a-Changin’: Rock Music and Political Change in East Germany. In R. Garofalo (Ed.), Rockin’ the Boat: Mass Music & Mass Movements (pp. 81–93). Boston: South End Press. Wicke, P. (1993a). Kooperativer Kulturaustausch West-Ost. In O. Schwencke, H. Schwengel & N. Sievers (Eds.), Kulturelle Modernisierung in Europa: Regionale Identitäten und soziokulturelle Konzepte (pp.  135–147). Hagen: Kulturpolitischer Gesellschaft e.V. Wicke, P. (1993b). Vom Umgang mit Popmusik. Berlin: Volk und Wissen. Wicke, P. (1994a). Jugendkultur zwischen Industrie und Politik. In H. Bockhorst (Ed.), Zukunft Jugendkulturarbeit: Gesellschaftliche Herausforderungen und kulturelle Bildung: Schriftenreihe der Bundesvereinigung Kulturelle Jugendarbeit, 28 (pp. 133–141) Remscheid: BKJ.

298  References and further reading Wicke, P. (1994b). Vom Unikum zum Unikat. Popmusik an der Humboldt-Universität. In hochschule ost, IV (6) (pp. 64–72). Wicke, P. (1995a). Kultur – Politik – Wirtschaft: Eine Studie zu Problemen und Perspektiven der Kulturförderung. Potsdam: Landeszentrale für politische Bildung Brandenburg. Wicke, P. (1995b). Populäre Musik im sozialen und politischen Wandel. In P. Wicke (Ed.), Popular Music Perspectives III (pp. 15–23). Berlin: Zyankrise. Wicke, P. (Ed.) (1995c). PopScriptum, 4. Berlin: Zyankrise. Wicke, P. (1996a). Pop Music in the GDR between Conformity and Resistance. In M. Gerber & R. Woods (Eds.), Changing Identities in Germany; Studies in GDR Culture and Society (pp.  25–37). Lanham, New York and London: University Press of America. Wicke, P. (1996b). Popular Music and Processes of Social Tranformation: The Case of Rock Music in Former East Germany. In P. Rutten (Ed.), Music in Europe (pp. 77–84). Brussels: European Music Office and European Commisson Directorate General X. Wicke, P. (1997a). Popmusikforschung in der DDR. In G. Maas & H. Reszel (Eds.), Popularmusik und Musikpädagogik in der DDR (pp. 52–68). Augsburg: Wißner. Wicke, P. (1997b). ‘Let the Sun Shine in Your Heart’ Was die Musikwissenschaft mit der Love Parade zu tun hat oder Von der diskursiven Konstruktion des Musikalischen. In Die Musikforschung, L (4) (pp. 421–433). Wicke, P. (1997c). ‘Wenn die Musik sich ändert, zittern die Mauern der Städte’: Rockmusik als Medium des politischen Diskurses im DDR-Kulturbetrieb. In B. Frevel (Ed.), Musik und Politik: Dimensionen einer undefinierten Beziehung (pp.  33–44). Regensburg: ConBrio. Wicke, P. (1998a). ‘Born in the GDR’: Ostrock between Ostalgia and Cultural Self-Assertion. In Debatte: Review of Contemporary German Affairs, VI (2) (pp. 148–156). Wicke, P. (1998b). Popmusik in der DDR – Zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand. In P. Kemper, T. Langhoff & U. Sonnenschein (Eds.), ‘but I Like It’: Jugendkultur und Popmusik (pp. 268–284). Stuttgart: Philipp Reclam. Wicke, P. (1998c). Rock around Socialism: Jugend und ihre Musik in einer gescheiterten Gesellschaft. In D. Baacke (Ed.), Handbuch Jugend und Musik (pp. 293–305). Opladen: Leske + Budrich. Wicke, P. (1998d). Von Mozart zu Madonna – eine Kulturgeschichte der Popmusik. Leipzig: Kiepenheuer. Wicke, P. (2000a). The Economics of Popular Music. In D. B. Scott (Ed.), Music, Culture and Society (pp. 205–219). Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Wicke, P. (2000b). Musik und Politik, Medien und Globalisierung. In W. M. Stroh & G. Mayer (Eds.), Musikwissenschaftlicher Paradigmenwechsel? Zum Stellenwert marxistischer Ansätze in der Musikforschung (pp. 207–212). Oldenburg: Universität Oldenburg. Wicke, P. (2000c). Rock Music: Culture, Aesthetics, Sociology (Chinese). Taiwan: YangChih Book. Wicke, P. (2000d). Sound-Technologien und Körper-Metamorphosen: Das Populäre in der Musik des 20: Jahrhunderts. In P. Wicke (Ed.), Rock- und Popmusik; Handbuch der Musik im 20: Jahrhundert, Vol. 8 (pp. 11–69). Laaber: Laaber. Wicke, P. (2000e). A szórakoztató zene Mozarttól Madonnáig. Budapest: Athaneum. Wicke, P. (2000f). Vom Song zur Soundfile: Das Internet als musikalische Interaktionsplattform. In Musikforum, XXXVI (92) (pp. 22–35). Wicke, P. (Ed.) (2001a). Rock- und Popmusik: Handbuch der Musik im 20: Jahrhundert, Bd: 8. Laaber: Laaber.

References and further reading 299 Wicke, P. (2001b). ‘Move Your Body’: Über den Zusammenhang von Klang und Körper. In C. Bullerjahn & H.-K. Erwe (Eds.), Das Populäre in der Musik des 20: Jahrhundert. Wesenszüge und Erscheinungsformen (pp. 61–84). Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag. Wicke, P. (2002a). Popmusik in der Theorie: Aspekte einer problematischen Beziehung. In H. Rösing, A. Schneider  & M. Pfleiderer (Eds.), Musikwissenschaft und populäre Musik: Versuch einer Bestandsaufnahme (pp. 61–74). Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Wicke, P. (2002b). Rock’n’Roll im Standpark: Von einer unerlaubten Vision in den Grenzen des Erlaubten. In T. Hörnigk & A. Stephan (Eds.), Jeans, Rock und Vietnam: Amerikanische Kultur in der DDR (pp. 61–80). Berlin: Theater der Zeit and BrechtHaus Berlin. Wicke, P. (2003a). Musik als Ritual: Jugendkultur und Popmusik. In humanismus, VII (13) (pp. 37–49). Wicke, P. (2003b). Popmusik in der Analyse. In acta musicologica, LXXV (1) (pp. 107–127). Wicke, P. (2004a). La música pop en la teoria: aspectos de una relacíon problemática. In J. M. Galán & C. Villar-Taboada (Eds.), Los Últimos Diez Años de la Investigación Musical (pp. 137–164). Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid. Wicke, P. (2004b). Soundtracks: Popmusik und Pop-Diskurs (pp.  115–139). In W. Grasskamp (Ed.), Was ist Pop? Frankfurt am Main: Fischer. Wicke, P. (2004c). Über die diskursive Formation musikalischer Praxis. In S. Aderholt (Ed.), Festschrift – Prof. Dr. Gerd Rienäcker zum 65: Geburtstag (pp. 163–174). Berlin: Humboldt-Universität. Wicke, P. (2004d). Virtuosität als Ritual. Vom Guitar Gero zum DJ-Schamanen. In H. v. Loesch, U. Mahlert & P. Rummenhöller (Eds.), Musikalische Virtuosität (pp. 232–244). Mainz: Schott Musik International. Wicke, P. (Ed.) (2005). Musik – Basiswissen Schule, 3 Bde, DVD, CD, Internetportal. Mannheim, Leipzig, Wien and Zürich: Duden Paetec. Wicke, P. (2006a). Mozart’tan Madonna’ya popüler müziægin bir kültür tarihi. Istanbul: Yap¸ Kredi yay. Wicke, P. (2006b). Music, Dissidence, Revolution, and Commerce: Youth Culture between Mainstream and Commerce. In A. Schildt & D. Siegfried (Eds.), Between Marx and Coca-Cola: Youth Cultures in Changing European Societies 1960–1980 (pp. 109–126). New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Wicke, P. (2007a). ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor’: Das Lied als Industrieprodukt. In W. Leimgruber, A. Messerli & K. Oehme (Eds.), Ewigi Liäbi: Singen bleibt popular: Schweizer Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft 2 (pp. 89–105). Basel, Münster, New York and Berlin: Waxmann. Wicke, P. (2007b). Zwischen musikalischer Dienstleistung und künstlerischem Anspruch. In H. d. l. Motte-Haber & H. Neuhoff (Eds.), Handbuch der Systematischen Musikwissenschaft, Bd. 4 (Musiksoziologie) (pp. 222–243). Laaber: Laaber. Wicke, P. (2008a). Das Sonische in der Musik. In PopScriptum, 10, from : http://www. popscriptum.hu-berlin.de/themen/pst10/pst10_wicke.pdf Wicke, P. (2008b). Die Leiden des weißen Mannes: Konstruktion von Authentizität in der Geschichte des Blues. In M. Rauhut & R. Lorenz (Eds.), Ich hab den Blues schon etwas länger (pp. 243–254). Berlin: Christoph Links. Wicke, P. (2008c). Pop(Musik)Geschichte(n). In C. Bielefeldt, U. Dahmen & R. Grossmann (Eds.), PopMusicology: Perspektiven der Popmusikwissenschaft (pp.  61–74). Bielefeld: Transcript.

300  References and further reading Wicke, P. (2009a). The Art of Phonography: Sound, Technology and Music. In D. B. Scott (Ed.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Popular Musicology (pp. 147–170). Farnham: Ashgate. Wicke, P. (2009b). Der Tonträger als Medium der Musik. In H. Schramm (Ed.), Handbuch Musik und Medien (pp. 49–88). Konstanz: UKV Verlagsgesellschaft. Wicke, P. (2009c). ‘We’re Only in It for the Money’: Musikindustrie im Wandel. In L. Bisky, K. Kriese & J. Scheele (Eds.), Medien – Macht – Demokratie: Neue Perspektiven (pp. 426–442). Berlin: Karl Dietz. Wicke, P. (2010a). A Corporation Writes Music History: Bertelsmann and Music. In A. G. Bertelsmann (Ed.), 175 Years of Bertelsmann: The Legacy of Our Future (pp. 172–207). Gütersloh: Bertelsmann. Wicke, P. (2010b). Mediale Konzeptualisierung von Klang in der Musik: Von der simulierten Aufführung zum simulierten Klang. In MusikTheorie, XXIV (4) (pp. 349–363). Wicke, P. (2010c). [Rock Music] (Korean). Seoul: Yesol. Wicke, P. (2011a). Ästhetische Dimensionen technisch produzierter Klanggestalten. In T. Phlebs & W. Reich (Eds.), Musik-Kontexte: Festschrift für Hanns-Werner Heister, Vol. II (pp. 1062–1084). Münster: Monnsenstein & Vannerdat. Wicke, P. (2011b). From Schizophiona to Paraphonia: On the Epistemological and Cultural Matrix of Digitally Generated Pop Sounds. In L. Stefanija & N. Schüler (Eds.), Approaches to Music Research (pp. 71–80). Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Wicke, P. (2011c). Popular Music. In S. Schulmeistrat & M. Wallscheid (Eds.), Musical Life in German: Structure, Facts and Figures (pp.  104–202). Bonn and Regensburg: German Music Council and ConBrio. Wicke, P. (2011d). Rock und Pop von Elvis Presley bis Lady Gaga. München: Beck. Wicke, P. (2012). Von der Hausmusik zur House Music: Musik und Jugendkultur im Wandel der Zeiten. In C. Roeder (Ed.), Blechtrommeln. Kinder- und Jugendlitertaur & Musik (pp. 12–28). München: Kopaed. Wicke, P. (2013). ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’: ‘ Die Entwicklung der Popmusik seit den 1960er Jahren – Versuch eines Überblicks. In J. Brügge (Ed.), Coverstratgien in der Popularmusik nach 1960 (pp. 15–41). Freiburg: Rombach. Wicke, P. (2015). The Sonic: Sound Concepts of Popular Culture. In J. G. Papenburg & H. Schulze (Eds.), Sound as Popular Culture: A Research Companion. (pp. 23–30). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Wicke, P., & Müller, L. (1995). Rockmusik und Politik. Berlin: Schwarzkopf & Schwarzkopf. Wicke, P., & Müller, L. (Eds.) (1996). Rockmusik und Politik: Analysen, Interviews und Dokumente: Forschungen zur DDR-Geschichte, 7. Berlin: Christoph Links. Wicke, P.,  & Shepherd, J. (1993). ‘The Cabaret Is Dead’: Rock Culture as State Enterprise – The Political Organisation of Rock in East Germany. In T. Bennett, S. Frith, L. Grossberg, J. Shepherd & G. Turner (Eds.), Rock and Popular Music: Politics, Policies, Institutions (pp. 25–36). London and New York: Routledge. Wicke, P., & Shepherd, J. (1997). Music and Cultural Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press. Wicke, P., & Ziegenrücker, W. (Eds.) (1985ff). Rock – Pop – Jazz – Folk: Handbuch der populären Musik. Ostausgabe, Leipzig: Deutscher Verlag für Musik and Westausgabe, Mainz: Schott. Wicke, P., Ziegenrücker, W., & Ziegenrücker, K.-E. (2007). Handbuch der populären Musik: Geschichte, Stile, Praxis, Industrie. Updated edition. Mainz: Schott. Willis, P. E. (1978). Profane Culture. London, Healey and Boston: Routledge & Keagan Paul.

References and further reading  301 Winkler, H. (2010). Thesenbaukasten zu Eigenschaften, Funktionsweisen und Funktionen von Automatismen. Teil 1. In H. Bublitz, R. Marek & C. L. Steinmann (Eds.), Automatismen (pp. 17–36). München: Wilhelm Fink. Winkler, T. (2009). Skandalrocker Rammstein: ‘Außer uns will ja keiner mehr böse sein’. In Der Spiegel Online Kultur, 15/10, from: http://www.spiegel.de/kultur/musik/skandal rocker-rammstein-ausser-uns-will-ja-keiner-mehr-boese-sein-a-655361.html Wiora, W. (1961). Die vier Weltalter der Musik. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Witts, R. (2011). Vorsprung durch Technik – Kraftwerk and the British Fixation with Germany. In S. Albiez & D. Pattie (Eds.), Kraftwerk: Music Non-Stop (pp. 163–180). New York and London: Continuum. Wolf, S. (2004). Deutschland sucht den Superstar: Analyse der Erfolgsfaktoren. Hamburg: Diplomica. Wolther, I. (2009). Musikformate im Fernsehen. In H. Schramm (Ed.), Handbuch Musik und Medien (pp. 177–207). Konstanz: UVK. Worbs, H. C. (1963). Der Schlager: Bestandsaufnahme – Analyse – Dokumentation: Ein Leitfaden. Bremen: Carl Schünemann. Wright, J. M. (2007). Russia’s Greatest Love Machine: Disco, Exoticism, Subversion. Master Thesis, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, from: https://cdr.lib.unc.edu/ indexablecontent/uuid:301e1a71-dd64-42d5-8b44-980026dd5141. Wyrwich, M. H. (2010). Wie das Internet eine neue Protestkultur ermöglicht. Stuttgart: YAEZ. Wyrwich, M. H. (2013). Orientalismus in der Popmusik. Marburg: Tectum. Zimmer, J. (1973). Popmusik: Zur Theorie und Sozialgeschichte. Dortmund: Haessler. Zimmerschied, D. (1971). Beat – Background – Beethoven. Frankfurt am Main: Diesterweg. Zocher, P. (1988). Amateurrockmusik in der DDR: Beilage zur Zeitschrift ‘Unterhaltungskunst’. Berlin: Komitee für Unterhaltungskunst. Zocher, P. (1990). Schwarzes Leder – Eine methodologische Studie zur visuellen Kommunikation in den Jugendkulturen: FPM-Publikationen 29. Berlin: Forschungszentrum populäre Musik.

Discography Abwärts (1980). Computerstaat [EP, 7-inch]. Hamburg: ZickZack. Abwärts (1980). Maschinenland, on AmokKoma [LP]. Hamburg: ZickZack. Accept (1979). Accept [LP]. Hamburg: Brain. Accept (1981). Breaker [LP]. Hamburg: Brain. Accept (1982). Restless and Wild [LP]. Hamburg: Brain. Accept (1983). Balls to the Wall [LP]. New York: RCA. Ammer, A., & Einheit, F.M. (1993). Radio Inferno. London: Rough Trade Records. Anonymous (1973a). Album Linear Notes, on Klaus Schulze Cyborg [2xLP]. N.N.: Kosmische Musik. Aqua (1997). Barbie Girl [Single]. New York: MCA. Astor, T. (1993). Flieg, junger Adler [Single]. Berlin: Electrola. Blind Guardian (1988). Battalions of Fear [LP]. Athens: No Remorse Records. Cosmic Jokers (1974). Gilles Zeitschiff [LP]. N.N.: Kosmische Musik. DAF (1980). Kebabträume/Gewalt [Single]. London: Mute Records. DAF (1981a). Der Mussolini [Maxi-Single]. Berlin: Virgin. DAF (1981b). Ich und die Wirklichkeit, on Alles ist gut [LP]. Berlin: Virgin.

302  References and further reading Daft Punk (2013). Giorgio by Moroder, on Random Access Memories [CD]. New York: Sony Music. Der Plan (1980). Die Welt ist schlecht, on Geri Reig [LP]. Düsseldorf: Atatak. Destruction (1984). Sentence of Death [LP]. Hanover: Steamhammer. Fehlfarben (1980a). Gottseidank nicht in England, on Fehlfarben, Monarchie und Alltag [LP]. London: EMI. Fehlfarben (1980b). Paul ist tot, on Monarchie und Alltag [LP]. London: EMI. Gabriel, G. (1973). Gesucht [LP]. Gütersloh: Ariola. Goebbels, H. (1994). Hörstücke 1–3. München: ECM Records. Hans-a-Plast (1979). Rank Xerox, on Hans-a-Plast, Hans-a-Plast [LP]. New York: Lava Records. Helloween (1985). Walls of Jericho [LP]. Hamburg: Noise Records. Heppner, P. (Lyricist), & van Dyk, P. (Music) (2004). Wir sind Wir. [Maxi Single]. Berlin: Urban. Klaus Schulze (1973). Cyborg [2xLP]. N.N.: Kosmische Musik. Kreator (1985). Endless Pain [LP]. Hamburg: Noise Records. Kriwet, F. (1968). One Two Two (Hörtext 5). Köln and Berlin: WDR and SFB. Kriwet, F. (1969). Apollo America (Hörtext 6). Baden-Baden, München and Köln: SWF, BR and WDR. Kriwet, F. (1970). Voice of America (Hörtext 7). Köln and Baden-Baden: WDR and SWF. Lucifer’s Friend (1970): Lucifer’s Friend [LP]. Philips. Meinecke, T. & Move, D (2000). Tomboy. München: Intermedium Records. Meinecke, T. & Move, D (2009). WORK. München: Intermedium Records. Meinecke, T. & Move, D. (2011). Lookalikes. München: Bayerischer Rundfunk. Mittagspause (1979). Herrenreiter/Paff [Single]. Düsseldorf: Rondo. Mittagspause (1981). Der lange Weg nach Derendorf, on Punk macht dicken Arsch: Live in Wuppertal – 1979 [LP]. Düsseldorf: Rondo. Moroder, G. (2012). On The Groove Train Vol. 1&2 [2xCD]. New York: Sony Music. Moroder, G. (2013). Best Of Electronic Disco [CD]. New York: Sony Music. N.N. (2005). ‘Wir sind Wir’: Dokumentation Zum Video mit Paul van Dyk, Peter Heppner und Das Deutsches Filmorchester Babelsberg. [CD, Enhanced]. New York: Zeitgeist. Palais Schaumburg (1981a). Morgen wird der Wald gefegt, on Palais Schaumburg [LP]. Hamburg: Phonogram. Palais Schaumburg (1981b). Telephon/Kinder der Tod [Single]. Hamburg: ZickZack. Pörtner, P. (1965). Schallspiel-Studie. In Siemens Kulturprogramm (1998, Ed.), SiemensStudio für elektronische Musik. München: Audiocom Multimedia. Science Fiction Cooperation (1968). Science Fiction Dance Party [LP]. Dusiburg: Populär. Sodom (1985). In the Sign of Evil [LP]. N.N.: Devils Game. S.Y.P.H. (1979). Zurück zum Beton, on S.Y.P.H. [LP]. Düsseldorf: Pure Freude. Tangerine Dream (1971). Alpha centauri [LP]. N.N.: Ohr. Timothy Leary, & Ash Ra Tempel (1972). Seven Up [LP]. N.N.: Die Kosmischen Kuriere. Trio (1982a). Anna – lassmichrein lassmichraus [Single]. London: Mercury. Trio (1982b). Da Da Da, ich lieb dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht/Sabine [Single]. London: Mercury. Truck Stop (1977). Zu Hause [LP]. Hamburg: Metronome. 2 Unlimited (1992). No Limit [Single]. Merenburg: Zyx. V. A. (1996). Geil auf Heavy Metal [LP]. N.N.: Barbarossa. Various (1972). Kosmische Musik [2xLP]. N.N.: Ohr. Warlock (1984). Burning the Witches [LP]. Bad Überkingen: SKULL.

References and further reading  303 Wittmann, C. & Zeitblom, G. (2011). BeatTheater 2011. Eine Hörcollage in zehn Formteilen nach einem Exposé von Ferdinand Kriwet (1964) sowie unter Verwendung von Originalzitaten, Deutschlandradio Kultur Berlin. Wondratschek, W. (1973). Paul oder die Zerstörung eines Hörbeispiels. Berlin: Deutsche Grammophon.

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics refer to figures and tables. 2 Unlimited 112, 113 3-o-Matic 114 3Phase 241 ‘13 Loecher’ (13 Holes) 124 39 Clocks, The 191, 192 1968 International Essen Song Days 56 – 7 Aaarrg Records 119 Abbney Park 133 Abeler, Ophelia 163 abortion 180; see also reproductive freedom Abwärts 195, 196, 197 Academy of Music Hamburg 25 Academy of Remscheid 25 Accept 116 – 17, 122 Activate 114 ‘A Day in the Life’ see Beatles, The 36 Adler, Guido 16 Adorno, Theodor W. 5, 19, 20, 38, 136 ‘aesthetic of the drastic’ 70 ‘aesthetics of genius’ 62 AFMA ‘Anstalt für musikalisches Aufführungsrecht’ (Institution for Musical Performance Rights) 248, 249 African-American cultural influences 115, 218; disco and funk: 78; German influences on African-American music 78; hip-hop 165, 166; jazz 18 African influences 208 Afrika Bambaataa 165, 231 A-Gen 53, 214 Agitation Free 60n1 Aguayo, Matias 228 Akua Naru 170 Alien Sex Fiend 132 ‘Alles ist gut’ see DAF

‘Alpha Centauri’ 57; see also Tangerine Dream Alpine folk 197 Alter Ego 234, 235 ‘Amadeus’ Award 214 Ambros, Wolfgang 213, 214 American civil rights movement 41 American dance funk 78 – 9 American influences see United States influences ‘Americanisation’ of Austrian society 213 – 14; see also United States influences Ammer, Andreas 68, 69, 72 Amon Düül 24 Anarchist Academy 211 Anders, Thomas 95, 98, 99; see also Modern Talking Anglo-American music: pop 135, 137, 218; punkrock 209, 212; rock 104, 138 Anglocentric 95 Anna – lassmichrein lassmichraus 198; see also Trio antifascism movement 210, 211 anti-Semitism 151, 153 Anziloitti, Luca 111, 115; see also Snap! Aphex Twin 50 ‘Apollo America’ (Hörtext 6) 68; see also Kriwet, Ferdinand APPD (Anarchistische Pogo-Partei Deutschlands) 211 Arbeitskreis Studium Populärer Musik 17, 25 ‘Art of Noises, The’ (Russolo) 123 Ash Ra Tempel 55, 57, 58; see also Leary, Timothy ASPM see Arbeitskreis Studium Populärer Musik

306 Index Asriel, Andrè 34 Astaron 214 Astor, Tom 142 ATC (A Touch of Class) 114 Atom H 119 Austrian popular music 213 – 16; national pride 214 austropop 213 – 16; ‘new wave’ 213; ‘redefinition’ 215 ‘authenticity’ 62, 83, 85, 132, 181, 213, 214, 255 – 6 Autobahn 63, 64, 65, 66, 78; see also Kraftwerk avant-garde 72, 197, 231 Azad 168 Baacke, Dieter 21 – 2 ‘Baby Do You Wanna Bump’ 78, 83, 84; see also Farian, Frank Balzer, Jens 162 ‘Balls to the Wall’ 116; see also Accept BAP 138 Bar 25 242 Bargeld, Blixa 72, 124 Barrit, Brian 58, 59 Bartos, Karl 62, 63, 64 Basic Channel 241 Bass Sultan Hengst 168 batcave 128, 133 Bauhaus 133 Baumgärtel, Tilman 226 Baumgarten, Uwe 40 ‘Bausteine zu einer Theorie der populären Musik’ 42 – 3 Bavarian dialect 105 Bazzazian, Ben 168 – 9 b-boying see break dancing b-dancing see break dancing Beat-Club 253 – 8 Beatles, The 36, 90, 256 ‘beatmusik’ (beat music) 68 ‘Beat Street’ 166; see also rap ‘BeatTheater’ 72 ‘Beat – the Speechless Opposition’ (Baacke) 22 – 3 Becher, Johannes R. 33 Behne, Klaus-Ernst 26 Behrens, Marc 125 Behrens, Peter 204, 205, 206n3 Behrens, Roger 6 ‘Beiträge zur Musikwissenschaft’ 36 Bek, Alexander 69, 70 ‘Belfast’ 84; see also Farian, Frank Bellaphon 142 Bellotte, Pete 78, 81

Benites, Benito see Münzing, Michael Benjamin, Walter 86 Bennett, Marcia 83 Berendt, Joachim Ernst 18 Berlin 46, 50; West 58 ‘Berlin Atonal Festival’ 124 Berlin-DJ Dr. Motte 241 ‘Berlin Q-Damm 12.4.81’ 67 ‘Berlin Sound of Techno’ 237 – 43; see also techno Berlin Wall 42, 88, 163, 239; see also reunification of East and West Germany Bertelsmann Group 46 ‘Best of Electronic Disco’ 77; see also Moroder, Giorgio b-girling see break dancing B.G. The Prince of Rap see Greene, Bernard Biafra, Jello 211 ‘Biederkeit’ 234, 235, 236; definition of 236n4 Bilderbuch 213 Binas, Susanne 40 Bischoff, Silke 133 Bisky, Lothar 39 bitchsm 182, 183 Bizarre festival 210 Black Box 112 black cultural influence see African-American cultural influences Black Flag 172 ‘black metal’ (bm) 151, 153 Black Panther Party 165 Blaukopf, Kurt 19 Blind Guardian 116, 117 Blood and Honour (B&H) 150 Bloss, Monika 47 blues 18, 45 – 6, 179 Blumfeld 135, 136, 137, 139 BMG 98 Boehmer, Konrad 22 Bogaert, Jo 112; see also Technotronic Bohlen, Dieter 95, 96, 98, 99; see also Modern Talking Böhse Onkelz 150 Bolan, Marc 227 Bonebreaker 119 Boney M. see Farian, Frank Borneman, Ernest 253 – 8 Borris, Siegfried 24 Bowie, David 65 – 6, 81, 87n4, 239 BPitch Control 227, 238; 242; see also Fratz, Ellen BPjM, Bundesprüfstelle für jugendgefährdende Medien (the Federal

Index  307 Review Board for Media Harmful to Minors) 158, 160 – 1, 163, 164 Brackett, Peter 79 Branson, Richard 59 Bräutigam, Wilhelm see Astor, Tom break dancing 165, 166, 171n1 ‘Breaker’ 116; see also Accept Bretschneider, Simon 46 Brinkmann, Rolf-Dieter 68 Britain influences see United Kingdom influences British Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies 25, 37 Brit Joe Meek 60n1 Brömse, Peter 23 Brown, James 188 Bruhn 26 Budde, Dirk 27 Burger, Jörg 227, 228 Burns, Lori 3 Bushido 168, 191 Busse, Burkhard 19 Büsser, Martin 6, 29 But Alive 211 Butler, Durron Maurice 111 Butzmann, Frieder 124 Byte Records 112 ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’ 84, 87n5; see also Farian, Frank Caberet Voltaire 123 Campbell, Ian 112 Can 59, 65, 225, 226, 227, 230, 251 Canal Terror 209 Captain Hollywood Project 114 Caribbean influences 208; see also reggae Carlos, Wendy 64 Cash, Johnny 142, 143 Caspelherr, Günter 142 ‘Castlerock’ 133 ‘Catalogue, The’ 64, 66; see also Kraftwerk Cave, Nick 239 Cerrone, Jean-Marc 78 ‘Chaos Days’ 29 Chicago house 218, 238 Chicago influences 18, 218 Chicks on Speed 181 Christgau, Robert 6 Christian Death 132 Christianity 129, 131, 151 Chuzpe 214 Clarke, Anne 132, 133 Clash, The 150, 186, 209 ‘club’ 66, 78, 82, 87n4, 119, 134, 232 – 5 Cockney Reject 150

Cock Sparrer 150 Cohen, Sara 5 Cold War 35, 125; see also East German perspectives; reunification of East and West Germany; West German perspectives cold wave 128 Cologne sound 225 – 30, 238 Column One 125 Combat 18, 150 ‘Computerstaat’ 197; see also Abwärts Computerwelt 64; see also Kraftwerk conservatism 100, 103 – 4, 105 – 7 Constandinos, Alec R. 78 Contributions to Musicology see ‘Beiträge zur Musikwissenschaft’ controversy 158 – 64, 167 – 8, 217 Cope, Julian 59 ‘Cop Killer’ 168 Cora E. 169; see also hip-hop; rap Corleis, Birger 98 Cosmic Baby 241 Cosmic Couriers/Kosmische Musik see Die Kosmischen Kuriere/Kosmische Musik 56 Cosmic Jokers 55, 59 cosmic music see Kosmische music Cosplay 133 country and western 140 – 6 Cpt. Kirk &. 135 Cranioclast 125 Crazy Bitch in a Cave 216n1 Crazy Life Music 119 cross-cultural influences: Austrian 216; electronic 231; hip-hop 165 – 7, 168, 170; pop 190; studies 6, 39; world culture 208, 212, 212n1 cry-baby see ‘Heulsusen-pop’ culture see cross-cultural influences; music as culture Culture Beat 112, 114 culture marginalization 82 – 3, 95, 165, 167, 168 Cunningham, Chris 50 Cure, The 132, 133 Current 93 132 Curtis, Ian 132; see also Joy Division Czerny, Peter 34 Czukay, Holger 225, 226 ‘Da Da Da, ich lieb dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht’ 198, 200, 203, 204, 206, 207n7; see also Trio ‘Daddy Cool’ 77, 84, 87; see also Farian, Frank

308 Index DAF 66, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199 Daft Punk 77, 80, 86 ‘Dämmerattacke’ (Attack of Dawning) 126; see also Tietchens, Asmus dancehall culture 9 dance music see African-American cultural influences; electronic dance music (EDM); eurodance; ‘Tanz- und Unterhaltungsmusik’ Dance World Attack 112 Danzer, Georg 213 dark ambient 128 dark cabaret 128 dark wave 133 ‘Das Deutschlandlied’ 219 ‘Daseinsverfehlung’ (Existence Breach) 126; see also Tietchens, Asmus Das Ich 133 ‘Das Lied der Deutschen’ 222n2; see also ‘Das Deutschlandlied’ ‘Das Model’ 64, 66; see also Kraftwerk Dauer, Michael 18 Davis, Erik 59 Davis, Miles 231 Davoli, Daniele 112; see also Black Box death metal 151 death rock 128 Dee Ex Dissziplin 154 Deine Lakaien 133 ‘Déjà vu’ 77; see also Moroder, Giorgio Delay, Jan 192, 193 Delgado-Lopez, Gabi 200 Delirium 228 DeMeyer, Patrick 112; see also Technotronic Depeche Mode 226, 133 De Picciotto 241 ‘Der Durchdrungene Mensch/Indianer von Morgen’ (The Permeated Man/Indians of Tomorrow) 67; see also Goebbels, Heiner; Harth, Alfred ‘Der Findling’ (The Foundling) 70; see also Wolokolamsker Chaussee ‘Der Klang der Familie’ 241 ‘Der lange Weg nach Derendorf’ 197; see also Mittagspause ‘Der Mussolini’ 198; see also DAF Der Nino aus Wien 213, 216 Der Plan 125, 190, 191, 197, 198 Destruction 116, 117, 119, 122 Deter, Ina 180 determinism 192 – 3 Detroit influences 218, 231; Detroit techno 66, 231, 238, 239, 242

‘deutschpunk’ 209, 210; see also ‘intelligent deutschpunk’ ‘Deutsch rock’ 59, 138, 139 Dexys Midnight Runners 227 Diary of Dreams 133 Die Ärzte 209, 210, 211, 212 Diederichsen, Diedrich 6, 26, 72, 135, 164, 237, 239 Die Drolls 211 Die Fantastischen Vier 168, 191 Die Goldenen Zitronen 139 Die Kosmischen Kuriere/Kosmische Musik 56, 57, 59 Die Mensch-Maschine (Man-Machine) 64; see also Kraftwerk Die Nerven 139 Dierks, Dieter 58 Die Sterne 135, 136, 139 Die Tödliche Doris 124, 180, 190, 197 Die Toten Hosen 209, 210, 211, 212, 212n2 Die Welt ist schlecht 198; see also Der Plan Dinger, Klaus 63 disco 77, 78, 79, 80, 86, 99; becoming less ‘black’ 82 – 3 Disko B 277 ‘Diskursrock’ (discourse rock) 136, 139 Distelmeyer, Jochen 138; see also Blumfeld ‘distortion’ 235 DIY (do it yourself) 174, 196, 214 DJ culture 9 – 10, 79, 165, 166, 167, 227 DJ Mo see Loschelder, Mo DJ Ra 167 DJs, on radio 47, 251 Doctor Who 60n1 Doc Wör Mirran 125 Dolezal, Rudi 215 – 16 Dollase, Jürgen 23, 58 Donaldson, Ian Stuart 150 Dorau, Andreas 197 Doro 116, 117, 120 Doth, Anita 112; see also 2 Unlimited Drechsler, Clara 6 drug use 55, 62, 239 – 40 drum’n’bass 225, 228, 235, 242 DSDS ‘Deutschland sucht den Superstar’ (Germany is Looking for the Superstar) 259, 260, 261 – 3 dub 231 Dune 114 Düsseldorf 66, 78, 189, 196, 212n2 Dylan, Bob 139, 202

Index  309 Earthshaker Records 119 East German perspectives: beginning of popular music studies 33 – 4; ideological premises 34 – 6; music as historical subject 45 – 51; politics 209 – 12; toward Pophörspiel development 69; on punk 187, 209 – 12; research projects and internationalism 41 – 2; reunification and reorganisation 42 – 4; theoretical frameworks 36 – 41; see also reunification of East and West Germany Ebbecke, Klaus 26 Economic Miracle 21 ‘economy of attention’ 4 effect box 233 Egotronic 211 Ehnert, Günter 24 ‘Ein bisschen Frieden’ (A Bit of Peace) 102 ‘Eine eigene Geschichte’ (A Story/History of One’s Own) 137; see also Blumfeld Einheit, F.M. see Ammer, Andreas ‘Einstürzende Neubauten’ 72, 124, 125, 195, 197, 29; see also Einheit, F.M. Eisengrau 124 Eisler, Hanns 33 Eko Fresh 168 Ekseption 22 Electric Café 64; see also Kraftwerk electro-avantgarde 61 – 6 ‘electro-clash’ 181 electronic dance music (EDM) 133, 231 – 6; producers 231 – 2; see also ‘Elektronische Musik aus Deutschland’ (EMAD) electronic music 61 – 6, 125, 133, 225 – 30 electronic sound studios 231 – 6 electro-punk 66 Elektro Club 238 Elektro Music Department Rec. 238 ‘Elektronische Musik aus Deutschland’ (EMAD) 231 – 6 Ellen Alien see Fratz, Ellen Elliot, Liz 58 ELP 65 Emerson 22 ‘Encyclopaedia of the Popular Music of the World’ (Shepherd et al.) 40 Endstufe 150 English lyrics 98, 135, 141, 190 – 3, 214, 253 Eno, Brian 81, 82, 87n4 entertaining arts see ‘Unterhaltungskunst’ E-Rotic 114

‘ethno-national rock’ 214 Eulenspygel 119 eurodance 111 – 15 eurodisco 77 – 80, 115n4, 218 Evans, Tanya see Culture Beat E-Werk 241 ‘Ex n Pop’ 239 explicit lyrics 158 – 64, 168, 188 Expo-Jingles 64; see also Kraftwerk Extrabreit 195 Fabbri, Franco 5 Falco 195 Fall, The 138 ‘Farbgefühle’ 5 Farian, Frank 13; ‘Baby Do You Wanna Bump’ 78, 83, 84; Boney M. 77, 78, 83 – 4, 85, 87, 95; creation of eurodisco sound 77, 78, 82, 86; La Bouche 86; Milli Vanilli 77, 84 – 6; ‘Rasputin’ 84, 87n6 Farrell, Bobby 83 fascism 33, 210 Faulstich, Werner 24 Faust 251 Fehlfarben 138, 190, 196 Fehlmann, Thomas 238 feminism 179 – 83, 188; second wave feminism 179; stereotypical notions 181; third wave feminism 181 feminist strategies 179 – 83 Fendrich, Rainhard 213, 214, 215 Fenslau, Torsten 112; see also Culture Beat Fenstermacher, Frank 191 Fichte, Hubert 68 Fields of Nephilim 132 ‘Fiesta Mexicana’ 102 First Fatal Kiss 216n1 Fischer, Helene 100, 104, 105 – 6 Fischerman’s Friend 238 Fisher, Mark 4 – 5, 6 Fishlabor 238 Fiske, J. 103 ‘Flächen mit Figuren’ 126; see also Tietchens, Asmus Flender, Reinhard 26 ‘Flieg, junger Adler’ (Fly, Young Eagle) 142; see also Astor, Tom Floh de Cologne 137 Flügel, Roman 234, 235 Flür, Wolfgang 62, 63, 64 Fluxus event 124 Flying Lesbians, The 179, 180

310 Index ‘Fly Robin Fly’ 78, 87n1; see also Silver Convention folk 191; Austrian folk 213 ‘Force Attack’ 211 Force Inc. 238 Ford, Penny 111 ‘Formen letzter Hausmusik’ (Forms of Last Family Music) 125; see also Tietchens, Asmus Forster, Arianne 188; see also Up, Ari ‘Four World Ages of Music, The’ (Wiora) 17 Fratz, Ellen 238 ‘Frauenfest’ 179 – 80 Frei.Wild 154 French electro 77; see also Daft Punk Freude am Tanzen 227 Friedmann, Bernd 232 Frith, Simon 5, 6, 25 Frl. Menke 195, 198 Froidenspender 149 Front 242 66 Frontpage 242 Fun Factory 114 ‘Fünf Mann Menschen’ (Five Man Human) 68; see also Jandl, Ernst; Mayröcker, Friederike funk 78; see also American dance funk ‘fun punk’ 209 Gabalier, Andreas 100, 104 – 5, 106, 107n3 gabba 151 Gabriel, Gunter 142 ‘Gabriel singt Cash – das Tennessee Projekt’ (Gabriel Sings Cash – the Tennessee Project) 142; see also Gabriel, Gunter Gama Music Publishing 119 gangster rap 167 – 8, 170; see also hip-hop; rap Garattoni, Peter 119 Garrett, John Virgo, III see Anziloitti, Luca Gas see Voigt, Wolfgang ‘Gassenhauer’ 34 gay culture 80; see also homosexuality Gebesmair, Andreas 6 ‘Geboren, um zu dienen’ (Born to Serve) 125; see also Tietchens, Asmus Geertz, Clifford 10, 238 Geier Sturzflug 198 Geitner, Peter 57 GEMA ‘Genossenschaft zur Verwertung musikalischer Aufführungsrechte’ (Association for the Utilisation of

Musical Performance Rights) 248 – 9, 250, 251 Gemeinschaft Deutscher Frauen 149 gender 47, 95, 172 – 8, 181, 182, 188; gender deconstruction 177 – 8; re-gendering 186, 188 gender inequality 168, 169 – 70, 173 – 4, 176 – 8, 179 – 82, 188 General Base 114 Gentleman 9 George, Nelson 78, 79 Geräuschmusik 123 – 7 ‘German Biederkeit’ see ‘Biederkeit’ German bonds 190 German lyrics 34, 135, 141, 142, 190 – 4, 195, 196, 197, 199, 214, 216; in schlager 102 ‘Germanness’ 217 – 22; see also national identity German reunification see reunification of East and West Germany German Rock Music Association 25 Gesellschaft fur Popularmusikforschung 17 ‘Gesucht’ (Wanted) 142; see also Gabriel, Günter GfPM see Arbeitskreis Studium Populärer Musik; Gesellschaft fur Popularmusikforschung Giddens, Anthony 104, 202 Gieseler, Walter 18 ‘Gilles Zeitschiff’ (‘Gille’s Time Ship’) 59; see also Cosmic Jokers ‘Giorgio by Moroder’ 77, 80 – 1; see also Daft Punk; Moroder, Giorgio ‘Girls Rock Camp’ 216n1 ‘Girl You Know It’s True’ 84; see also Farian, Frank glam rock 227 ‘globalisation’ see cross-cultural influences Goebbels, Heiner 67, 68, 69 – 72 Goethe Institute 229 Goethes Erben 133 Goetz, Rainald 68 Golowin, Sergius 57, 58, 59 Gomma label 77 Goodwin, Andrew 5 Gorkow, Alexander 162 ‘gossenrap’ 182 gothic 128; doom 128; metal 128; rock 128 goth scene 128 – 34 Göttsching, Manuel 58 ‘Gottseidank nicht in England’ (Thank God not in England) see Fehlfarben

Index  311 graffiti 165, 166 gramophone industry 248 Grateful Dead 57 Graves, Barry 23 ‘Greek Wine’ 20 Green Day 210 Greene, Bernard 112 Grönemeyer, Herbert 138 Groove magazine 232 – 3, 234 – 5 Großkopf, Harald 58 Grossberg, Lawrence 5 ‘Gottes Tod’ 133; see also Das Ich Grunge 210 Guetta, David 227 Gustav 213 Haas, Walter 19 Hafen, Roland 26, 28 Haftbefehl 168; see also rap Hagen, Nina 13, 180, 185 – 9 Hall, Stuart 37 ‘Hamburger Schule’ (Hamburg School) 135 – 9, 172, 181, 191, 199 ‘Hamburger Szene’ (Hamburg Scene) 190 ‘Handbook of Music in the 20th Century’ 17 ‘Handbuch der populären Musik’ (Handbook of Popular Music) 40 Handke, Peter 68 ‘Hanover English’ 192; see also German lyrics Hansa 98, 251 Hans-a-Plast 190, 195, 196, 197 Hansa Studios 239 Hardwax 240, 241 Harth, Alfred 67 Hartwich-Wiechell, Dörte 22, 23 ‘hauntology’ 4 Haupt, Else 101 Hawkins, Stan ii, 3, 5 heavy metal 116 – 22 ‘Heavy Metal – Made in Germany’ (Mader & Jeske) 118 Hebdige, Dick 5, 26, 134 Hegemann, Dimitri 238 ‘Heimat’ 100, 102 – 3, 106, 107n3 ‘Heimatfilm’ 197, 199 Heister, Hanns Werner 18 Heiß, Jürgen 41 Helloween 116, 117, 122 Hemming, Jan 30 Heppner, Peter 13, 133, 217 – 19, 220, 221, 222n1 Heroes 66; see also Bowie, David

Herrenreiter/Paff [Single] see Mittagspause Hertel, Stefanie 103 ‘heterosexual matrix’ 175 – 6 ‘Heulsuse’ see ‘Heulsusen-pop’ ‘Heulsusen-pop’ 172 – 8 ‘Hey Boss – Ich brauch’ mehr Geld’ (Hey Boss, I Need More Money) 142; see also Gabriel, Gunter Hi-NRG 81 hip-hop 44, 71, 165 – 71, 190, 199, 208 hippie bands 57 hippie dance music 226 Hirsche Nicht Aufs Sofa 125 Hirsch, Ludwig 213 Hitler, Adolf, dance 200n4 ‘Hochmusik’ 16 Hodkinson, Paul 134 Hofmann, Heinz P. 34 Hollingsworth, Tony 41 Holofernes, Judith 182 Holtmann, Antonius 24 homophobia 83, 153, 168, 170 homosexuality 175 – 6 horror punk 128 Hörspiel (artistic radio play) 67 – 73 Hostages of Ayatollah 209 Huber, Harald 20 Hubert Kah 195, 199 Hubert, Ralf 122n5 Hughes, Patrick 85 Human League 66, 133 Hündgen, Gerald 79 Hütter, Ralf 62 – 3, 64, 66 IASPM see International Association for the Study of Popular Music Ice MC see Campbell, Ian Ice T 168 ‘Ich möcht’ so gern Dave Dudley hör’n’ (I’d Really Like to Listen to Dave Dudley) 141; see also Truck Stop ‘Ich tu dir weh’ (I Am Hurting You, or I Hurt You) 158; see also Rammstein Ich und die Wirklichkeit see ‘Alles ist gut’; DAF Ideal 195, 198 ‘I Feel Love’ 81, 82; see also Bellotte, Pete; Moroder, Giorgio; Summer, Donna Incredible String Band 57 indie 172, 174, 175, 176 industrial music 67, 123, 133 Institute for Didactics of Popular Music 25 Institute for Jazz Research 25

312 Index Institute for Pop Culture 25 institutionalization of German music 4, 6, 7, 8, 12, 21, 25 – 7 ‘intelligent deutschpunk’ 211 Interfish Rec. 238 International Association for the Study of Popular Music 25, 37, 43 International Deejay Gigolos 227 ‘Internationale Essener Songtage 1968’ 56 International Society for Jazz Research 18 internationalism 190; see cross-cultural influences Internet 129, 132, 169 ‘I sing a Liad für di’ (I Sing a Song for You) 104 – 5; see also Gabalier, Andreas Ja 139, 213, 216 Jandl, Ernst 68 jazz 18, 33, 34, 35, 248 – 9, 250 Jazzanova 242 Jennings, Waylon 143 Jerrentrup, Ansgar 26 Jeske, Otger 118, 120 Jolanda Hunter and the Freedom Fries 146 Jost, Ekkehard 18, 23 Joy Division 66, 132, 133 Judas Priest 116 ‘Jugendtanzmusik’ 35 Jürgens, Udo 20 Kafka, Franz 69 Kahnke, Corinna 12 Kaiser, Rolf-Ulrich 56 – 7, 58 – 60; see also Lettmann, Gerlinde ‘Gille’ Kallabris 125 Kammerchor Horbach 69 Kanzleramt 242 Kaplan, Ann E. 5 ‘Kaputtheit’ 235 Karnik, Olaf 6 Katzmann, Jürgen 112; see also Culture Beat Kayser, Dietrich 19 Kellner, Douglas 6 Kemmelmeyer, Karl-Jürgen 24 Kerman, Joseph 5 Killing Joke 133 King Bock 154 ‘Klang der Familie’ (The Sound of Family) 238, 239 klangkunst 225 Klausmeier, Friedrich 21 Kleenex 181; see also LiliPUT Kleinen, Günter 26, 30 Kling-Klang Studio 63, 231

Klotz, Almut 181 Kluge, Alexander 70 Klüppelholz 26 Kneif, Tibor 23 Knepler, Georg 31, 34, 36, 50n2 Knepler, Paul 50n2 Knolle, Nils 24 Kohl administration198 Köhler, Rolf 98 Köhncke, Justus 230 Kolossale Jugend 135, 139 Komekate 170 Kompakt 218, 225, 227, 228, 229, 230, 238 ‘K.O.O.K.’ 172 Kool Savas 168, 191 Kosmische Musik 55 – 60 Kötter, Eberhard 23 Kracht, Christian 68 Kraft durch Froide 150 Kraftwerk 4 – 5, 13, 15, 61 – 6, 78, 80, 81, 196, 202, 218, 231, 232, 235 ‘Kraftwerk 2’ 63; see also Kraftwerk Kramer, Lawrence 5 krautrock 55 – 60, 63, 65, 80, 225, 226, 251 ‘KrautrockSampler. One Head’s Guide to the Great Kosmische Musik’ 59; see also Cope, Julian Krawinkel, Gert 203, 204 Kreator 116, 117, 119, 122 Kriwet, Ferdinand 68, 72 Kunz, Andreas 28 Kunze, Heinz Rudolf 138, 194 Kunze, Michael 78 Kutlu 166; see also Microphone Mafia La Bouche see Farian, Frank; Thornton, Melanie Jane Lacrimosa 133 Lady Bitch Ray 168, 179, 182 ‘Ladyfest’ 216n1 Lage, Klaus 138 Laibach 172 Lake 22 Landers, Paul 162, 163 ‘La Paloma’ 102 Larkey, Edward 41 Lassie Singers 181 Latino cultural influences 78, 165 Leary, Timothy 58, 59; see also Ash Ra Tempel; Seven Up Leckebusch, Michael 253 – 8 left-wing music 137, 139, 150 Legowelt 233, 234 Lehmann, Theo 34

Index  313 lesbianism 179, 180; see also homosexuality Lettmann, Gerlinde ‘Gille’ 56, 57, 58 – 60; see also Kaiser, Rolf-Ulrich Letzte Instanz 133 Levin, Tobias 139; see also Cpt. Kirk &. ‘Liebe ist für alle da’ (Love Is There for Everyone) 158; see also Rammstein ‘Liebezeit’ 226 Liebezeit, Jaki 226 LiliPUT 181 Limoni, Mirko 112; see also Black Box Lindemann, Till 162, 163 Lindenberg, Udo 190, 191, 192, 196 line dancing 140, 143 – 6 Löffel, Markus 71; see also Mark Spoon; We Wear the Crown Loft 114 Lokis Horden 149 Lokomotive Kreuzberg 185 Lolita style 134 Longerich, Winfried 26 ‘Lookalikes’ 72; see also Meinecke, Thomas Loony Party 211 Lorenz, Christian ‘Flake’ 161, 162 – 3; see also Rammstein Loschelder, Mo 238 ‘Lost in Music’ 79; see also Sister Sledge Love Inc see Voigt, Wolfgang ‘Love Parade’ 29, 114, 241, 242 ‘Love to Love You Baby’ 78, 80, 81, 82; see also Bellotte, Pete; Moroder, Giorgio; Summer, Donna Low 66; see also Bowie, David Low Spirit 242 LSD 58; see also drug use; Leary, Timothy Lucifer’s Friend 116 Lugert, Dieter 24, 26 Lüschper, Piet 26 lyrics see English lyrics; German lyrics Maahn, Wolf 138 ‘Ma Baker’ 84; see also Farian, Frank Machinedrum 233 ‘made in Germany’ 55, 57, 59; see also krautrock Mädelschar Deutschland 149 Mader, Matthias 118, 120 Maffay, Peter 138, 251 Magic Affair 114 Magnet Booking 238 mainstream 174 Main Street 241 Malamud, R. 101

Malaria! 195 Male 195, 212n2 male sensitivity see ‘Heulsusen-pop’ Mandel, Eric 233 Mania D! 180, 181 Marcuse, Herbert 56 Marcus, Greil 6 Marek, Günther 119 Maria 242 Mark Spoon 71; see also We Wear the Crown Markus 195 Marlboro Barbeque 242 Marshall, Tony 251 Marx, O.-D. 26 masculinity 88, 98, 174, 175, 188 Mäsker, Mechthild 100 – 1 Masterboy 114 materiality of sound 49, 50 Maurizio 241 Mausoleum Records 119 Maxx 114 Mayer, Günter 43 Mayer, Michael 228 Mayröcker, Friederike 68 MC5 208 McClary, Susan 5 MCing see rap McLaren, Malcolm 208 McLaughlin, Mahavishnu John 193 MC Sinaya 169 MC Soom T 170 mediality of sound 49, 50 medieval 128 Megalomaniax 69, 70 Meinecke, Thomas 72 Meine, Klaus 92 – 3; see also Scorpions Meisel, Peter 57 melodic speed 120 Mekong Delta 122n5 Menzel, Horst 22 ‘M’era Luna’ 133 Mersey beat 68 ‘Message-rock’ 155 Messer 139 Metronome Records 122n8 Meyer, Ernst Hermann 33 Mezger, Werner 19 MFSB 79 Miami Bass 238 Michelle 104 Microphone Mafia 166 middle-class music 35, 196 Middleton, Richard 5 Mike Ink see Voigt, Wolfgang Milli Vanilli see Farian, Frank

314 Index ‘minimal-continuum Germany’ 231; see also Nye, Sean minimal house 231 ‘Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life’ 136; see also Adorno, Theodor W. misogyny 168; 182; see also gender inequality Mitchell, Liz 83 Mittagspause 190, 195, 197 mixed genre ii Modern Talking 13, 94 – 9 Moog synthesizer 81 Morgen wird der Wald gefegt see Palais Schaumburg Moroder, Giorgio 13, 65, 85, 218; creation of Eurodisco sound 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 86; success of ‘Love to Love You Baby’ 78, 80, 81, 82; tribute by Daft Punk 80 – 1, 86 Morvan, Maurice 84, 85 Mothers of Invention, The 256 Moufang, David 72 Mouse on Mars 233 – 4 Mr. President 114 Mudhoney 210 Mueller, Annett 149 Müller, Heiner 69, 70, 71 Müller, Renate 26 Müller-Westernhagen, Marius 138, 196 ‘Munich Sound’ 77, 78; see also Farian, Frank; Moroder, Giorgio Munk 77 Münzing, Michael 111, 115; see also Snap! music as culture 47 – 9 ‘music as high art’ see ‘Hochmusik’ Music from the Bottom 25 music industry 247 – 52 musicology 78; analytical approach 50 music production 50 ‘musikalische Produktivkräfte’ 38; see also Adorno, Theodor W. ‘Musik – Basiswissen Schule’ (Music: Basic Knowledge in School) 44 Musil, Robert 69 Nardi, Carlo 48 national identity 12, 217 – 22, 229 nationalism 191 ‘National Socialist Black Metal’ (NSBM) 151 National Socialist ideology 18 ‘Nature One’ 9 ‘Nazi aesthetic’ 235 Nazis 210

NDW (‘Neue Deutsche Welle’) 138, 139, 180, 181, 195 – 200, 206, 214 Nelson, Willie 143 Nena 195 neoclassic dark wave 133 neofolk 128 neo-liberalism 98 – 9 neo-Nazis 150, 154, 222n6 Neonbabies 195 NEU! 59 ‘Neue Deutsche Härte’ 172 ‘Neue Deutsche Todeskunst’ 128 – 34 ‘neue musik’ 226, 231 ‘Neues Hörspiel’ (new radio play) 68, 72; see also ‘Pophörspiel’ new German wave see NDW (‘Neue Deutsche Welle’) ‘New Jazz Book’ 18 new music 226, 231 New Order 66 New Orleans influences 18 new romantics 133 new wave 67, 180, 195 new wave of British heavy metal (NWOBHM) 116 New York Dolls 208, 212n1 New York influences 165, 169, 208 Nieswandt, Hans 6 ‘Nightflight to Venus’ 84; see also Farian, Frank Niketta, Rainer 24, 26 Nina Hagen Band 185, 187; see also Hagen, Nina Nirvana 210, 211 Nitzer Ebb 66 NoFX 210 Noie Werte 150 ‘Noise of Cologne’ 226 Noise Records from Berlin 118 – 19 No Mercy 86; see also Farian, Frank No Remorse Records 120, 122n9 Numinos 233, 234, 235 ‘Nur wer den Wahnsinn liebt’ (Only One Who Loves Madness) 105; see also Fischer, Helene NWA 166 NWDR Studio 231 Nye, Sean 231 – 2 objectifying women 173 – 4, 175; see also gender inequality Oceanclub 242 Oerter 26 Offspring, The 210 Ohr Musik 57

Index  315 Ohr Musik Produktion GmbH 57 oi! 150 old-school gothic rock 128 ‘One Two Two’ (Hörtext 5) 68; see also Kriwet, Ferdinand ‘On The Groove Train Vol. 1 & 2’ 77; see also Moroder, Giorgio Oomph! 133 ‘Open Air Frauenfeld’ 5 operetta trade 247, 248 Orb, The 238 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD) 66, 133 Organisation 62 – 3 ‘Organisation zur Verwirklichung gemeinsamer musikalischer Konzepte’ (Organiation for the Realization of Shared Musical Concepts) see Organisation Ostara 149 Ostgut 142 Ostzonensuppenwürfelmachenkrebs 135 P16.D4 125 Paape, Jürgen 228 Palais Schaumburg 190, 195, 197, 198, 238 Panik 139, 213, 216 ‘Pank’ 188, 189 Papenburg, Jens Gerrit 45, 48 – 9 Pape, Winfried 30 Paris influences 231 Parole Trixi 181 Parsons, Talcott 27 ‘pastel-goth’ 133 Paul ist tot see Fehlfarben ‘Paul oder die Zerstörung eines Hörbeispiels’ (Paul or the Destruction of a Sonic Sample) 68; see also Wondratschek, Wolf Pavement 138 PC Records 154 Peaches 181 Peel, John 72 Pelham, Moses 71; see also We Wear the Crown Perry, Jean-Jacques 81 petit bourgeois 191, 198; see also middle-class music Pickert, Dietmar 30 Pilatus, Robert 84, 85 Pilz Musik 57 Pink Floyd 63 – 4, 80 Planet 241

Planet Com 242 Plank, Conrad (Conny) 63 Plesch, Tine 6 polit-rock 137 pop 27 – 8, 38, 62, 64, 68 – 9, 190 – 4, 227, 229 – 30; Black American 79; in Scorpions’ ‘Wind of Change’ 91; techno 237 pop I 68 – 9, 72 pop II 68 – 9, 72 ‘popfeminismus’ 181 ‘Pophörspiel’ 67 – 73 Popol Vuh 55, 57, 59 Pop:sch 213 ‘PopScriptum’ 44, 45 ‘Popstars’ 259, 260 – 1, 262 Popular Music Research Centre 37, 42, 43 ‘Popularmusik’ (popular music) 17, 95 – 6 Pörtner, Paul 68 postmodernism 138, 181 post-punk 66, 128, 133 post-World War II society 10 – 11, 18, 46, 51n2, 124; in Austria 213 – 14, 215, 216; in Germany 217 – 22, 226 powerlessness 174 power metal 120 Powers, Ann 6 ‘Power, The’ 111; see also Anziloitti, Luca; Münzing, Michael; Snap! Pride and Prejudice see ‘Stolz & Vorurteil’ Profan 228, 238 progressive rock 226, 227 Project Pitchfork 133 protest, music as 179 Pryolator 197 psychedelic rock 57, 58 ‘psychological boom’ 55 – 6 Public Enemy 166, 240 ‘Publikumsbeschimpfung’ (Offending the Audience) 68; see also Handke, Peter ‘Pump Up the Jam: The Album’ 113; see also Technotronic ‘Pump Up the Volume’ 71 punk 29, 185, 188 – 96, 198, 208 – 12, 214; American punk 209; British punk 200, 208; competing narratives 208; definition of 208; East German 209; skinhead punk 150; West German 209 ‘punk im Pott’ 211 queer music 213, 214, 239 Rabe, Jens-Christian 162 racial segregation 165, 171n3; see also racism

316 Index racism 83, 168, 170, 210, 242 Radio-Aktivität 64; see also Kraftwerk radio art 67 – 73 ‘Radio Inferno’ 72; see also Ammer, Andreas; Einheit, F.M. radio plays 67 R.A.F., terror of 197, 200 Rage 117 ‘Ralf and Florian’ 63; see also Kraftwerk Rammstein 158 – 64, 172 Ramones, The 209 ‘Rampenfiber Festival’ 216n1 Rancid 210 ‘Random Access Memories’ 77; see also Daft Punk; ‘Giorgio by Moroder’ Rank Xerox see Hans-a-Plast rap 165, 166, 191, 199; definition of 166; development of 166; golden age of 166; marketing of 168 – 9; MCing 165, 166; political 165, 211; see also gangster rap; hip-hop ‘Rapper’s Delight’ 171n4 Rapp, Tobias 163 ‘Rasputin’ 84, 87n6; see also Farian, Frank Ratinger Hof 212n2 Rattles 190 Rauhe, Hermann 18, 21, 22, 26 Rauhut, Michael 40 raves 239 Ray, Johnny 20 realism 191; see also German lyrics ‘Realität’ 168 Real Milli Vanilli 86; see also Farian, Frank ‘rebellion’: Austrian 213, 214, 215 – 16 Rebel Records 154 Rebscher, Georg 22 ‘rechtsrock’ see right-wing, music re-conceptualisation of sound 48 – 9 re-education 33 reggae ii, 9, 208 Reichardt 56 Reinecke, Hans-Peter 21, 30 Remmler, Stephan 203, 205, 206n2 ‘Renees’ 149 Rentmeister, Cillie 179 reproductive freedom 180, 182 ‘Restless and Wild’ 116; see also Accept re-stultification see ‘Rückverdummung’ ‘retromania’ 4 ‘retrospective cultural consecration’ 214 reunification of East and West Germany 68, 46, 88, 118, 137, 209, 210, 217 – 22;

reflected in techno 240 – 1; see East German perspectives Reynolds, Simon 6, 218 Richter, Lukas 34 Riggenbach, Paul 28 right-wing: extremism 150 – 4; music 44, 149 – 57, 158, 210 Riot Grrrl Movement 181 Riskant 67 rock see rock’n’roll ‘Rock against Communism’ (RAC) 150 ‘Rock am Ring’ 9, 173 ‘rock as heritage’ 216 ‘Rock Music: Culture – Aesthetics – Sociology’ 40 rock’n’roll 172, 173 – 5, 176 – 7, 196, 201; polit-rock 137; progressive 64 – 5; rebellion against schlager 104 Rock-O-Rama 154 ‘Rock Pop in Concert’ 117 ‘Rock-Zeit’ 58; see also Kaiser, Rolf-Ulrich Rodriguez, Luis 98 Roland R8 232 Rolling Stones, The 138, 256 Rollins, Henry 172 ‘Roll over Beethoven’ 23 Rösinger, Christiane 181 Rösing, Helmut 12, 26 Rossacher, Hannes 215, 216 Rother, Michael 63 ‘Rückverdummung’ 211 ‘Ruhrpott Rodeo’ 211 Run DMC 166 Rüsenberg 23 ‘Russische Eröffnung’ (Russian Gambit) 70; see also Wolokolamsker Chaussee Russolo, Luigi 123, 126 Şahin, Reyhan 182; see also Lady Bitch Ray Salzinger, Helmut 24 Satanism 131, 173 Savage, Jon 6 Schaeben & Voss 228 Schäfer, Frank 119 Schäffer, Burkhard 30 schlager 83, 89, 99, 191, 212n2, 213; and critical theory 19 – 20; definition of 100 – 1; new voices of 100 – 7; as social-psychological experiment 19,

Index  317 185; sub-published US songs 250 – 1; updating in discotheques 251 ‘Schlager in Deutschland’ 19 ‘Schleifen: Zur Geschichte und Ästhetik des Loops’ 226; see also Baumgärtel, Tilman Schleimkeim 209 Schmidt, Irmin 226, 230 Schmidt-Joos, Siegfried 19, 23 Schneewittchen 180 Schneider, Albrecht 30 Schneider-Esleben, Florian 62 – 3, 64, 66 Schober, Ingeborg 24 Scholz, Michael 98 Schult, Emil 63 Schulze, Gerhard 16 Schulze, Klaus 55, 57, 58, 59 Schulz-Koehn, Dietrich 18 Schütz, Axel 119 Schütz, Volker 26 Schwellenback, Gregor 230 Schwendter, Rolf 22 Schwesta Ewa 168; see also gangster rap; rap science fiction 60n1, 81 ‘Science Fiction Dance Party’ 60n1 Science Wonder see Voigt, Wolfgang Scooter 114 Scope 167; see also gangster rap; rap Scorpions 13, 88 – 93 Scott, Derek 3, 5 Scritti Politti 227 – 8 ‘secondariness’ 135 – 6, 137, 139 Second Viennese School 17 SED (Socialist Unity Party of Germany) 33, 35, 50n1 Seeed 9 Seghers, Anna 69 segregation see racial segregation Semplici, Valerio 112; see also Black Box Seven Up 58 sexism 168, 173 – 7; see also gender inequality; misogyny Sex Pistols 185, 189, 208, 209, 212n2 sexuality 80, 172, 173, 180, 239 Sgt. Pepper album 36 Sham 69, 150 Shapiro, Peter 78, 80 Shepherd, John 5 Shitkatapult 242 Shostakovich, Dmitri 69 – 70, 72 Sido 168; see also gangster rap; rap Siemens studio 231

Siemens-Studio für elektronische Musik see Pörtner, Paul Silver Convention 78 Sinatra, Frank 18, 189 Siouxsie and the Banshees 133 Sister Sledge 79 Sisters of Mercy, The 132, 133 skinhead culture 149, 210 Skin of Tears 210 Skinny Puppy 132 Skrewdriver 150 Sleater-Kinney 176 Slime 209, 210 Slijngaard, Raymond 112; see also 2 Unlimited Slits, The 185 Smiths, The 211 Snap! 111, 113, 114, 115 Snow White see Schneewittchen ‘Social History of Jazz’ 18 Sodom 116, 117, 119, 122, 122n7 ‘So ein Stückerl heile Welt’ (A Little Bit of an Idyllic World) 103; see also Fischer, Helene ‘Song Encyclopedia of the Popular Music and Culture’ 159 sonic, concept of 48 ‘sonic fiction’ 70 Sonic Youth 138 Sonstevold, Gunnar 19 Sony Music 112 soul 78 ‘Sound of Music’ image 215 speed metal 120 Speicher 228 SPK 123 ‘Splash Festival’ 9 Spliff 195 Springsteen, Bruce 138 Star Club 254 ‘Starmania’ 262, 263 Steamhammer/SPV 119, 122n7 steampunk 128, 129, 133 Stehle, Maria 12 Stemmann, Ralf 98 ‘Sternklang’ (Star Sound) 60n1; see also Stockhausen, Karl-Heinz Stewart, Travis 233 Stockhausen, Karl-Heinz 60n1, 64, 225, 226, 228, 230, 231 Stoerkraft 150 Stollenwerk 23 ‘Stolz & Vorurteil’ 181 – 2

318 Index Stooges 208 Stötzner, Ernst 70 Strafe Für Rebellion 125 Strauch, Bianca 228 ‘Street Moves’ 113; see also Twenty 4 Seven structuration theory 202 S.T.S. 214 Student Movement 179 ‘Studio 1’ 228 Sugar Hill Gang 171n4 Summer, Donna 77, 80, 81 – 2, 87n2 ‘Summer Jam’ 9 Sun Electric 238 ‘Sunny’ 84; see also Farian, Frank Superpitcher 228 ‘Surrogate Cities’ 67; see also Goebbels, Heiner Swanhwit, Swantje 149 Sylvester 79 synthesiser 81 synth-pop 66, 133 S.Y.P.H. 190, 196, 198 Tagg, Philip 5, 97 ‘Take Me to Heaven’ 79; see also Sylvester Tangerine Dream 55, 56, 57 – 8, 59, 65, 81 Tanith 241 ‘Tanz- und Unterhaltungsmusik’ (dance and entertainment music) 35 Tascam mixing console 233 techno 29, 48, 217, 218, 221, 225, 226, 229, 231; Detroit techno 66 technology 56, 62 Technotronic 112, 113 Temptations, The 79 Tennstedt, Florian 23 Terkessidis, Mark 6 Terrorgruppe 210 Testcard 182 Teutonic Beats Rec. 238 teutonic power 122 Teutonic trance 218 ‘Theoretical Building Blocks of Popular Music Theory’ (Mayer) 42 – 3 Thiel, Tom 238 Thornton, Melanie Jane 112 thrash 120, 122 Throbbing Gristle 123 Thubeauville, Axel 119, 122n5 Tietchens, Asmus 125 – 6 Tin Pan Alley 17 Tocotronic 135, 136, 139, 172 – 8, 211 Toma, Andy 233

‘Tomboy’ 72; see also Meinecke, Thomas Tomte 172 ‘Tone Float’ 63; see also Organisation Ton Steine Scherben 137, 196 Too Funk Sistaz 169 – 70; see also hip-hop; rap Tour de France Soundtrack 64, 66; see also Kraftwerk Toynbee 5 trance 217 – 22, 226 Trans Europa Express 64; see also Kraftwerk transgender 239 transnational influence see cross-cultural influences transsexual music 213 Trapez 227 Traum 227 Tresor Club 238, 239 Tresor Records 238, 240, 241 Trio 195, 197, 198, 201, 203 – 7 Truck Stop 141, 142 Trümmer 139 TRY’N’B 86; see also Farian, Frank Tubes, The 185 – 7 Turbo B see Butler, Durron Maurice Turbostaat 211 TV 29, 44, 60n1, 111, 144, 253 – 8; music talent shows 259 – 64 Twenty 4 Seven 113 U 96 114 ‘über-producer’ 83 Ufa, Grundy 44 Ufo 241 Uhlmann, Thees 172 – 8 Ultravox 133 underground 45, 180, 181, 197, 199; cassette underground 125; drum’n’bass 225; labels 41; punk 211; techno 242 Underground Resistance 240, 241 Unheilig 133 United Kingdom influences 190, 195; on beatmusik 68; on punk 208, 209, 212n1; on skinheads 149 – 50 United States influences 165, 166, 167 – 8, 209; on austropop 213 – 14; on country western 140 – 6; on disco 78, 79; on NDW 195; on pop 190; on punk 208, 209, 210, 212, 212n1; on rock 35, 41; on techno 218; translation in lyrics 186 – 7; West Coast 57 Universal Music 112 Universal Zulu Nation 165

Index  319 ‘Unkultur’ 35 ‘Unterhaltungskunst’ 35 Up, Ari 185, 188; see also Slits, The Vainqueur 241 Valentin, Karl 95 van den Driesschen, Dennis 112; see also Vengaboys van Diepen, Wessel 112; see also Vengaboys van Dyk, Paul 13, 217 – 20 Vengaboys 112 ‘Verstärker’ 137; see also Blumfeld Vicious, Sid 189; see also Sex Pistols ‘Vienna Actionism’ 213 Viennese classical music 226 Viennese dialect lyrics 214, 216 Vincent, Rickey 78, 79 Virgin Records 59 Visual Kei 134 ‘Voice of America’ (Hörtext 7) 68; see also Kriwet, Ferdinand ‘Voice of Germany, The’ 259, 260, 262, 263 Voigt, Reinhard 228 Voigt, Wolfgang 218, 227, 228, 229, 238 ‘Volk’ 107n3 Volke, Eva 26 von Braha, Liviu 26 von Kleist, Heinrich 69, 70 von Lange, Alexa Hennig 68 von Stuckrad-Barre, Benjamin 68 Voormann, Klaus 203 Voullième, Helmut 26 ‘Wacken Open Air’ 9 Wagner, Christoph 59 ‘Wahre Werte’ (True Values) 154; see also Frei.Wild ‘Wald bei Moskau’ (Forest Near Moscow) 70; see also Wolokolamsker Chaussee Wald, Elijah 94, 95 Wallenstein 57 Wallküren 149 Walls of Jericho [LP] see Helloween Walterbach, Karl 119 Wanda 213, 216 ‘Wandervogel’ 20 Warlock 120 Warma, Willi 214 Warnecke, Peter 39 Warner Music 112 ‘Wave-Gotik-Treffen’ 129, 130 – 1, 133 We Are We see ‘Wir sind Wir – Ein Deutschlandlied’

We Could Be Friends. The Tocotronic Diaries 172 – 8 ‘Weekend’ festival 228 Wegmüller, Walter 57, 58 Wehmeier, Rolf 24 ‘Welcome to the Machine’ 80; see also Pink Floyd ‘Weltberühmt in Österreich. 50 Jahre Austropop’ (World Famous in Austria: 50 Years of Austropop) 214 – 15 Werger, Stefanie 213 ‘Wer Liebe lebt’ (Who Lives Love) 102 Werner, Jan 233, 234 West German perspectives 56, 60n1, 68, 187, 197 199, 209; see also reunification of East and West Germany Westwood, Vivienne 208 We Wear the Crown 69, 71 Whirlpool Productions 230 White, Barry 79 white identity 221 Whiteley, Sheila 5 ‘White Power Music’ 150 ‘white punks’ 185 ‘White Punks on Dope’ 185, 186, 187, 188 Who, The 256, 257 Wicke, Peter 5, 7, 12, 17, 25, 86 Wiedeke, Detlef 98 ‘Wild Style’ see rap Williams, Maizie 83 Willis, Paul 37 ‘Wind of Change’ 88 – 93; see also Scorpions Winkler, Hartmut 232 Wiora, Walter 17 ‘Wir könnten Freunde werden. Die Tocotronic-Tourtagebücher’ 172 – 8 Wir sind Helden 182 ‘Wir sind Wir – Ein Deutschlandlied’ 217 – 22 ‘Wirtschaftswunder’ 21 ‘Wish You Were Here’ 80; see also Pink Floyd Wittmann, Christian 72 WIZO 210 WMF 242 Wolfers, Danny 233 Wolfsheim 219, 133 Wolokolamsker Chaussee 69 – 70, 72 women marginalization see gender inequality women’s influences 169, 179 – 82, 185 – 9

320 Index Wondratschek, Wolf 68 Worbs, Hans Christoph 19 ‘WORK’ 72; see also Meinecke, Thomas; Moufang, David working class music 142, 143, 149 ‘world culture’ 208; see also cross-cultural influences ‘World Famous in Austria: 50 Years of Austropop’ 214 – 15 world music 6, 111; see also cross-cultural influences ‘World Power’ 113; see also Snap! World War II 248 – 9; see also post-World War II society ‘World Wide Live’ 88; see also Scorpions Wünsche, Andrea 238 Wurst, Conchita 213 Wuttke, Jörn Elling 234

Yes 64 ‘Yesterday’ 90; see also Beatles, The ‘You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul’ 98; see also Modern Talking youth dance music see ‘Jugendtanzmusik’ ‘Zeckenrap’ 211 Zeitblom 72 ‘Zeitgeist’ 19 Zimmer, Jochen 22 Zimmermann, Jens 112; see also Culture Beat Zimmerschied, Dieter 22 Zocher, Peter 40 ‘Zu Hause’ 141; see also Truck Stop ZK 195 ZYX 112, 114