Electronic musician and choir leader Barbara Morgenstern goes binary at the Roter Salon.

When Morgenstern arrived in Berlin in 1994, the city was still in a state of post-Wall flux. Feeding off this energy, she seized the moment and, together with host Joe Tabu and other like-minded artists, kicked off the Wohnzimmerszene (living room scene) with its largely improvised concerts and parties. Malaria! co-founder Gudrun Gut was impressed and signed Morgenstern to her label Monika Enterprise. In the past two decades, she has dashed across the genre spectrum from synth-pop to experimental to choral (as the leader of HKW’s Chor der Kulturen der Welt).

On Monday, March 7 at the Roter Salon, she teams up with cellist Julia Kent, one of the collaborators on last year’s seventh studio album Doppelstern, for a one-off concert extravaganza.

Why name your album after a binary star?

It was the perfect metaphor for my album. Two stars bound together by gravitation, circling around each other periodically. Energy from one star is transmitted to the other, one is feeding from the other. You’re in this cosmos, just the two of you, and every song is a world in itself. The name was Justus Köhncke’s idea, with whom I recorded the first song. Some said it was too obvious, but it just fit.

You’ll perform at Roter Salon with one of your ‘stars’.

I met Julia in New York while I was touring. I worked with her on my fifth album, bm [Monika Enterprise, 2008], and then we played a gig together in America. Somehow our paths continued to cross. Unfortunately, we didn’t actually meet to record the song on my album. So I’m very much looking forward to our gig, because now we can get together and rehearse. We’ll develop a few songs just for the concert. She’ll play her set, I’ll play mine and in between, we’ll play together.

You started as a solo artist, but collaborations have been popping up more and more on your CV.

As a solo artist, the motivational curve was slightly going downwards. My solo thing happened because I was tired of working in a band structure, compromising and organising, like in a relationship. But at a certain point, it was always the same routine, I was orbiting myself. Of course, you connect to the audience, but it’s something you do by yourself. These days, I don’t have the urge to withdraw from the world so much. Working with a choir, for instance, is exciting because you can work on a grand theatrical level, and it’s not just about me. Only producing electro pop became too one-dimensional.

Who are your role models?

In my hometown, Hagen, the jazz and free jazz scenes were buzzing. I also had a good piano teacher with jazz roots. That triggered everything. Then came Fred Frith, the New York improv scene and Laurie Anderson, who had a massive impact on me. Bartók’s Children’s Pieces are unbelievable because he includes unexpected changes which sound unfamiliar, but they do have a certain pop factor. I love harmonies; that’s my thing: geile Harmonien. It’s my ambition to surprise with unexpected harmonies that make sense in the end. I can create those with a choir, at an organ or piano, and when I collaborate. It’s the tonal search that interests me.

Do you find it difficult to explain who you are as an artist?

Absolutely. Peoplefind it difficult to pigeonhole me. The older I get, the more difficult it is. Back then, I was the woman at the organ with frail beats and strange songs. Then I moved on. But honestly, it’s not so difficult to explain. I see myself as a composer. Sure, I’m the director of a choir, I make pop music, I experiment, but first and foremost, I’m a composer. The question is rather: can people get used to artists who draw from many genres, or is there a need to put them in boxes?

How do you remember Berlin when you started the Wohnzimmerszene in the mid-1990s?

Very romantically. In 1994, after the Wall had come down, I moved here with the “Wohnzimmer-Clique”. Everything was falling apart, open spaces everywhere. I felt like the world was ours – and it truly was. People opened bars in their own apartments. There were so many illegal clubs, like Berlintokyo and Der Eimer. It was a big ‘post-Wall hurrah’; it just fit. We went out all the time, mingled with the same crowd, it was all give-and-take. Everyone was bent on doing stuff, looking for the next club to open. It was all word-of-mouth and very adventurous.

Today, every Berlin generation suspiciously eyes the next. Gudrun Gut, who was active in the 1980s music scene, supported you in the 1990s. Why did it work then?

Gudrun experienced Berlin when the Wall was still up and everyone was here – Bowie, Neubauten. It must have been a constant buzz if you were part of these circles. Eventually, this movement ran dry, and if the Wall hadn’t fallen, who knows what might have happened with Berlin’s music scene. But then the entire East opened up with all these empty houses to squat, its own off -scene and artists like To Rococo Rot or Tarwater, and it all came together. Gudrun was in a position to say, eve- rything’s so different, aber auch geil. Today, we’re deprived of this destructive element, and that gets to people.

Sweet Silence (2012) remains your only album in English. How come?

With my English album, I was on a Moderat trip. I mean, what a pop appeal. I wanted to get there, too. [Laughs] English as the languageof pop seemed to be just right. You can do different things with your voice, and it actually helped me to improve vocally in hindsight.

A lot of people were upset about it – even internationally. I wanted my international fans to understand my lyrics, but then the reaction was like, “Dear God, why English?” To my fans, it felt like I had given up my individuality, I had betrayed an ideal. I was totally surprised. In retrospect, I find it really fascinating.

Could you hide behind the English language?

One song on my English album deals with the death of a friend. I wouldn’t have done this in German. It would’ve been too close. When I started singing in German, I thought I sounded like Schlager. Then [Blumfeld frontman] Jochen Distelmeyer showed everyone how it’s done. It was on point. Whenever I listened to Blumfeld, I thought I was listening to the truth.

At the moment, whiny men in their thirties, like Mark Forster and Andreas Bourani, are trending.

It’s a mix of all this indie stuff plus Dieter Bohlen and Voice of Germany, all in one, trying to find our big pop star. We don’t have a long-lasting German pop tradition. Maybe it’ll slowly emerge. But at the moment, it’s all spearheaded by that “Atemlos” woman, Helene Fischer. In comparison to Deichkind or Romano, it’s just lazy songwriting.

JULIA KENT & BARBARA MORGENSTERN Mon, Mar 7, 20:00 | Roter Salon, Rosa- Luxemburg-Platz, Mitte, U-Bhf Rosa- Luxemburg-Platz

In Rahmen der Ausstellung „Musik+X“ trat Barbara Morgenstern im September 2012 in Moskau auf. In diesem Interview erzählt sie über ihren ersten musikalischen Flop, das angebliche Sterben der Elektronischen Musik und über ihre Erfahrungen mit Nick Caves Doppelgängern.

Frau Morgenstern, wie könnte man Sie treffend bezeichnen?

Ich würde sagen: als Komponistin, Keyboarderin, Sängerin, Produzentin und Chorleiterin. Ich bin jetzt niemand, der sich stundenlang hinsetzt und Klavier übt. Dagegen stehen Komponieren und Produzieren für mich eher im Vordergrund. Der Prozess des Machens ist mir sehr wichtig. Deswegen muss Komponistin eher an die erste Stelle.

Was war für Sie der ausschlaggebende Punkt, um das erste Album rauszubringen: die Entdeckung der alten DDR-Orgel namens Vermona? Oder die Berliner Szene mit ihren Wohnzimmerkonzerten?

Songs schreibe ich ja seit meiner Schulzeit. Später kamen aber viele Sachen zusammen. Mit einer Gruppe von Musikerfreunden ging ich von Hamburg nach Berlin. Wir hatten bereits eine gefloppte Plattenvertragserfahrung bei East West hinter uns. Nun, was macht man jetzt? Einer aus meinem Freundeskreis hatte die Idee, Konzerte in seinem Wohnzimmer zu veranstalten. Es gab damals total viele Freiräume. Die Mauer war gefallen und es schien alles möglich zu sein. Im Nachhinein war es eine echt romantische Zeit. Es war so eine Aufbruchsstimmung. Ich entschied mich, die Musik selber zu machen, ohne Label. Gleichzeitig verabschiedete ich mich von dem Bandgedanken und beschloss, solo aufzutreten. Vor meiner Vermona-Zeit habe ich mal ein geliehenes Siel-Keyboard gespielt. Man konnte damit mehrere Rhythmus-Patterns gleichzeitig abfeuern, beispielsweise Walzer mit Disko kombinieren. Ich fand dieses Prinzip genial: Ich starte den Rhythmus, spiele dazu Keyboard und zack! – der Song ist fertig. Das war wohl der ausschlaggebende Punkt.

Den Mauerfall setzt man musikalisch meistens mit der Techno- und Clubkultur in Zusammenhang. Warum ausgerechnet diese Alleinunterhalterallüren?

Techno war nie mein Ding. Also, Drogen sind auch nicht mein Ding. Ich war dann ein oder zwei Mal auf solchen Partys und habe mich immer wie ein Alien gefühlt. Das Buch Der Klang der Familie von Felix Denk und Sven von Thülen habe ich verschlungen. Da tauchten Freunde von mir wie Thomas Fehlmann auf und ich verstand: „Ah, okay, das ist damals passiert. Deswegen ist er da, wo er ist.“ Getanzt habe ich damals zwar viel, aber eher zu Hip-Hop-Musik. Mit Techno konnte ich deshalb nichts anfangen, da mir die Beats irgendwie zu gerade waren. Aber mit der Techno-Szene verband uns die Idee: Ich gehe einfach irgendwohin und mache da was. Es gab unzählige Wochentagsbars: Donnerstagsbar, Mittwochsbar, Dienstagsbar. Und unter demselben Motto – Wir machen es einfach! – fanden auch unsere Wohnzimmerkonzerte statt. In einem intimen Rahmen funktionierte meine Musik perfekt. Ich bin keine Großraumbeschallungsmusikerin.

Das klingt noch überschaubar. Auf Einladung des Goethe-Instituts waren Sie 2003/04 im Rahmen einer Welttournee an insgesamt 34 Orten. Wie verarbeitet man eine solche Erfahrung?

Ich muss sagen, das war ein ganz schönes Brett. Danach bin ich erst in ein Loch gefallen und es folgte ein Jahr Pause. Das war körperlich sehr anstrengend, allein durch den Jetlag. Man hat aber einen unglaublichen Schatz an Orten und neuen Erfahrungen gesammelt. In meinem nächsten Album The Grass Is Always Greener ist sehr viel von dieser Welttournee drin, allein das Cover. Wenn man aber extrem viel unterwegs ist und dann nach Hause kommt, ist man erst mal total auf sich selbst geworfen. Man muss sich im Alltag sortieren: Was mache ich heute? Wer holt mich ab? Wer führt mich in die Stadt?

Wie war auf dieser Tour der postsowjetische Raum vertreten?

Die einzige Station war damals in Sankt Petersburg. Ich war aber später im März 2000 in Moskau beim Frauen-Musikfestival. 2006 war ich noch mal in Russland: zuerst in Murmansk bei einem Kulturfestival und dann mit Hilfe des Goethe-Instituts in Moskau, Saratow und Samara. Bei dieser Reise hatte ich viel mehr Zeit und habe entsprechend viel mehr aufnehmen und erfahren können. In Sankt Petersburg war ich noch mal extra, da gibt es eine große elektronische Szene. In Murmansk hatte ich zu meiner Überraschung eine starke Hip-Hop-Szene entdeckt.

Welchen Eindruck hat Moskau bei Ihnen damals hinterlassen?

Bei meinem ersten Besuch in 2000 hatte ich ein romantisches Bild von gastfreundschaftlicher Wärme, war aber vom Turbokapitalismus doch extrem überrascht. Damals bin ich zunächst in einem Kulturzentrum aufgetreten und anschließend in einem Vereinsclub, wo man pro Jahr eine stattliche Summe zahlt, um überhaupt reinzukommen. Das kannte ich vorher nicht. Gerade die Geschlechterrollen haben mich dort sehr schockiert. Das ist das, was mir immer auffällt und was mich wirklich beschäftigt.

Kapitalismus und Globalisierung werden des Öfteren in Ihren Stücken verarbeitet. Sind diese Songs ein Ventil oder gar ein Appell an die Fans, sich dem Thema zu stellen?

Beides, glaube ich. Wenn ich Musik mache, frage ich mich immer: Was ist mir wichtig? Worum geht es? Was will ich erzählen? Aber die wirklich beglückenden Momente erfahre ich nicht dadurch, dass ich mir irgendeinen Quatsch kaufe. Auf der Welttournee fiel mir auf, wie globalisiert unsere Welt ist. Überall die gleichen Monomarken: Starbucks, McDonald‘s, bla-bla-bla… Es ist einfach schockierend zu erleben, mit welcher Macht der Markt alles gleichschaltet und was dafür vor Ort zerstört wird. Ich verstehe die Gier- und Machtstrukturen dahinter nicht. Aber ich finde schon, dass man sich dagegen wehren sollte. Das ist für mich ein klarer Appell zu sagen: Verweigerung! Das sind Sachen, die mich aufregen, die ich deshalb auch in meinen Texten verarbeite, weil ich das unmenschlich finde. Also, was haben wir davon, mehr zu besitzen? Ich komme gerade nach Moskau hierher und stehe gleich im Stau, umgeben von Geländewagen. Wozu? Was bringe ich meinem Kind bei? Was ist Konsum? Man ist in einer riesigen Maschinerie drin, die uns dazu bewegt, Dinge wegzuwerfen, zu vergeuden, seine Umgebung zu zerstören. Das ist für mich überhaupt nicht erstrebenswert.

Was hat Sie zu Gudrun Guts Label Monika Enterprise geführt?

Ich bin dazu wie die Jungfrau zum Kinde gekommen, denn ich hatte mit Frauennetzwerken nie viel am Hut. Ich meine, als Musikerin machst du eigentlich nur mit Männern Musik. So war das bei mir bisher. Der Gedanke von Monika Enterprise war immer, Frauen rauszubringen. Dabei wurde die Genderkomponente nie in den Vordergrund gestellt. Aber beispielsweise nach dem Konzert sollten sich die Leute am Ende umgucken und sagen: „Hey, es waren nur Frauen in der Band.“

Damals kam Guido Möbius auf mich zu und meinte, dass Monika Enterprise das Label für Wohnzimmerszene sein wird. Gudrun Gut hat das Label gestartet, weil sie diese Szene so sehr an ihre eigenen Sachen aus den 80ern erinnerte, an die damalige Indiekultur. Für mich war das damals irgendwie seltsam. Im Nachhinein aber total angenehm. Wir sind Freunde geworden und ich bin Monika 14 Jahre lang treu geblieben.

Ihre Stimme ist in dem letzten Album wesentlich präsenter als in den früheren Produktionen und Sie singen jetzt in Englisch.

Der Hauptanstoß, in Englisch zu singen, war, dass ich ein Projekt zusammen mit dem Goethe-Institut gemacht habe, bei dem in Englisch verfasste Gedichte afghanischer Frauen nachgesprochen oder -gesungen wurden. Das war total toll. Ich ließ meiner Stimme freien Lauf. Das war auch der Grund zu sagen, dass ich jetzt auch englische Texte schreibe. Heißt aber überhaupt nicht, dass es so bleibt.

Was hat es mit diesem Tanzimperativ bei dem Stück „Kookoo“ auf sich?

Mein letztes Album war sehr akustisch und diesmal wollte ich den Pop-Aspekt herausarbeiten, ein Album für den Club machen. Ausschlaggebend war für mich das tolle 2010er-Album des Hamburger Musikers Pantha du Prince (Hendrik Weber). Beim Hören habe ich festgestellt, dass die Annahme, die elektronische Musik gehe den Bach runter, totaler Quatsch ist. Da habe ich große Lust bekommen, elektronische Beats so zu kombinieren, dass es knallt. Deswegen auch diese Aufforderung bei Kookoo: Tanzt zu dem Song!

Ich muss noch eine Frage zu dem Stück „Night-Time Falls“, Ihren negativen Erfahrungen mit Nick Cave, mit seinem Doppelgänger und mit den russischen Promotern stellen. Welche Erfahrungen wurden in diesem Stück verarbeitet?

Es war ein Traum. Ich habe diesen Traum morgens meinem Freund erzählt und er meinte, dass ich daraus unbedingt ein Lied machen muss. Und so ist es auch geschehen.

Die Zeitschrift „de-bug“ schrieb zu Ihrer ersten Platte: „Mit dieser CD macht sich Monika Enterprise auf den Weg, das deutsche Rephlex zu werden. Alles geht, Hauptsache, es macht Spaß. Die Coolness kommt dann schon von selber.” Sind Sie seit der ersten Platte cooler geworden?

Ich bin auf jeden Fall selbstbewusster geworden. Ich glaube, das ist einfach die Erfahrung, die man über die Jahre gesammelt hat. Einfach das Wissen darüber, dass es, auch wenn heute nicht mein Tag ist, morgen umso besser weitergeht. Von daher bin ich schon cooler geworden.

Ich bedanke mich bei Ihnen für das Interview.

Ich danke auch.

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В сентябре 2012 года Барбара Моргенштерн выступила в Москве в рамках выставки Musik+X. В этом интервью она рассказывает о своем первом музыкальном провале, о якобы смерти электронной музыки и о своем опыте с двойниками Ника Кейва.

Госпожа Моргенштерн, как Вас точнее всего охарактеризовать?

Я бы сказала так: меня можно назвать композитором, клавишницей, певицей, продюсером и руководителем хора. Я не тот человек, который садится и часами занимается на пианино. Мне важнее сочинять музыку и выпускать ее. Процесс создания очень многое для меня значит. Поэтому я в первую очередь характеризую себя как композитора.

Что побудило Вас к созданию первого альбома: то обстоятельство, что у Вас появился старый орган Vermona из ГДР? Или повлияли квартирные концерты берлинской музыкальной тусовки?

Я начала сочинять песни уже в школе. Потом сложились вместе разные обстоятельства. С несколькими друзьями-музыкантами я отправилась из Гамбурга в Берлин. У нас уже был за плечами неудачный опыт с лейблом East West – с ним мы так и не заключили контракт на издание альбома. И вот мы сидели и думали: а теперь что делать? И одному из друзей пришла в голову идея устраивать концерты у себя дома. Тогда было много свободных помещений. После падения Стены казалось, что все возможно. Оглядываясь назад, я могу сказать, что это были очень романтические времена. Времена всеобщего энтузиазма и подъема. Я тогда решила выпускать свою музыку сама, без лейбла. И одновременно распрощалась с мыслью о собственной группе и решила выступать сольно. До того, как у меня появилась Vermona, я играла на чужом синтезаторе Siel. На нем можно было играть одновременно несколько ритмов и накладывать, например, вальс на диско. Я решила, что это гениальный принцип: я запускаю ритм, при этом наигрываю на клавишах и – раз! Песня готова. С этого, наверное, все и закрутилось.

Падение Стены обычно ассоциируется с появлением культуры клубов и техно. Почему Вы выбрали для себя путь сольного автора-исполнителя?

Техно меня никогда особенно не интересовало. Наркотики тоже. Я пару раз была на техновечеринках и всегда чувствовала себя как на другой планете. Книгу «Саунд семьи» Феликса Денка и Свена фон Тюлена я прочитала запоем. Там упоминались некоторые мои друзья, например, Томас Фельманн, и я поняла: «Ага, вот что тогда происходило, ясно. Вот поэтому он сейчас там, где он есть». В те годы я много танцевала, но в основном под хип-хоп. Техно мне было не по душе потому, что бит казался слишком простым. Но с техносценой нас связывала общая идея: просто брать и делать. Тогда существовали бесчисленные бары, которые работали в определенные дни недели: бар по четвергам, бар по средам, бар по вторникам. И под тем же девизом – «Возьмем и сделаем!» – проходили и наши квартирники. В такой интимной обстановке моя музыка звучала отлично. Я не любительница выступлений перед огромной аудиторией.

Звучит логично. По приглашению Немецкого культурного центра имени Гёте в 2003-2004 годах Вы отправились в мировое турне и побывали в общей сложности в 34 городах. Насколько трудно переработать такой опыт?

Должна сказать, что это было довольно жестко. После этого я взяла паузу на год. В физическом плане было очень тяжело, уже хотя бы из-за смены часовых поясов. Но знакомство с новыми местами и приобретенный там опыт – это бесценное сокровище. На моем последовавшем альбоме, The Grass Is Always Greener (2006), многое связано с этим мировым турне. Даже обложка. Но когда много путешествуешь, а потом приезжаешь домой, оказываешься предоставлен исключительно самому себе. И нужно снова упорядочивать свои будни: что я буду делать сегодня? С кем встречусь? С кем пойду в город?

Какие города постсоветского пространства Вы посетили во время того турне?

Только Санкт-Петербург. Но я была в Москве раньше, в марте 2000 года, на фестивале женщин-музыкантов. В 2006 году еще раз побывала в России: сначала была в Мурманске на фестивале культуры, а потом, благодаря Немецкому культурному центру имени Гёте, в Москве, Саратове и Самаре. Во время этого тура у меня было намного больше времени, так что я, соответственно, смогла больше записать и приобрести больший опыт. Потом я еще раз была в Санкт-Петербурге, там хорошо развита электронная сцена. А в Мурманске, к моему удивлению, оказался силен хип-хоп.

Какое впечатление произвела на Вас Москва?

В первый раз, в 2000 году, я ехала туда с романтическим представлением о радушном и гостеприимном городе – и была ошарашена диким капитализмом, который меня там встретил. В тот раз я выступала сначала в культурном центре, а потом в закрытом клубе, за членство в котором люди ежегодно выкладывают немаленькую сумму. Раньше я с подобным не сталкивалась. Гендерные роли меня там очень шокировали. На это я всегда обращаю внимание, мне это важно.

В своих произведениях Вы часто затрагиваете тему капитализма и глобализации. Эти композиции служат «для выпуска пара», или так Вы призываете слушателей задуматься над темой?

Полагаю, что и то, и другое. Когда я пишу музыку, всегда задаю себе вопросы: что для меня важно? О чем я пишу? Что я хочу сказать? Самые счастливые моменты в моей жизни – вовсе не те, когда я покупаю себе какую-нибудь ерунду. Во время мирового турне мне бросилось в глаза, насколько глобализирован наш мир. Всюду одни и те же бренды: Starbucks, McDonald‘s, и так далее, и тому подобное. Когда видишь, как сила рынка уравнивает всё, как разрушается местная культура, испытываешь настоящий шок. Я не могу понять жадность и жажду власти, которые стоят за этими процессами. Но я думаю, что с ними нужно бороться. Я чувствую необходимость громко заявить: я против! Это вещи, которые меня волнуют, и которые находят отражение в моих текстах. Я считаю все это бесчеловечным. Что нам дает обладание большими материальными благами? Я приезжаю в Москву и стою в пробке из «гелендевагенов». Зачем? Чему я при этом научу своего ребенка? Что такое потребление? Мы стали частью огромной машины, которая заставляет нас выбрасывать вещи, бессмысленно потреблять, разрушать окружающую среду. На мой взгляд, это совершенно не то, к чему стоит стремиться.

Как Вы оказались на лейбле Monika Enterprise, принадлежащем Гудрун Гут?

Для меня самой это была большая неожиданность, ведь с женскими сообществами я к тому моменту имела немного общего. Когда ты музыкант, то обычно твои коллеги по цеху – мужчины. По крайней мере, у меня так было до тех пор. Идея лейбла Monika Enterprise – продвижение женщин-музыкантов. Гендерный компонент там никто навязчиво не форсирует, но, тем не менее, идея заключается в том, что, например, после концерта зрители должны заметить: «Да в этой группе одни женщины».

Собственно, ко мне обратился Гидо Мёбиус и сказал, что лейбл Monika Enterprise – то, что нужно для музыкантов, которые предпочитают квартирные концерты. Гудрун Гут основала этот лейбл, потому что эта тусовка очень напоминала ей ее собственную тусовку 80-х, инди-культуру. Мне это все тогда было как-то странно. А потом очень понравилось. Мы подружились, и я 14 лет верна этому лейблу.

На последнем альбоме Ваш вокал значительно более заметен, чем на предыдущих, и поете Вы теперь по-английски.

Главным толчком к тому, чтобы петь по-английски, стало то, что я сделала проект с Немецким культурным центром имени Гёте: нужно было прочитать или спеть написанные на английском стихи афганских женщин. Это было потрясающе. Я дала голосу полную свободу. Собственно, поэтому я сейчас пишу тексты и по-английски. Но это не значит, что так будет всегда.

Композиция Kookoo велит: «Танцуйте!». Откуда этот императив?

Мой последний альбом был очень акустическим, и в этот раз я решила двинуться в сторону поп-музыки, сделать клубную вещь. На меня кардинальным образом повлиял прекрасный альбом, который выпустил в 2010-м году музыкант из Гамбурга Панта дю Принс (Хендрик Вебер). Когда я его слушала, то поняла: утверждение, что электронной музыке приходит конец – полная ерунда. И тогда мне очень захотелось заняться электронными ритмами, создать нечто взрывное. Поэтому в Kookoo и звучит буквальное требование: танцуйте под эту песню!

Я должен еще задать вопрос о песне Night-Time Falls, Вашем негативном опыте с Ником Кейвом, его двойником и российскими промоутерами. Какой опыт лег в основу этой композиции?

Это был сон. Наутро я рассказала его моему другу, а он сказал, что я непременно должна написать об этом песню. Так и вышло.

О Вашем первом альбоме журнал de-bug написал так: «Этот альбом поможет лейблу Monika Enterprise стать немецким Rephlex. Возможно все, главное, чтобы всем нравилось. Крутизна придет сама по себе». Вы стали более крутой со времен первого альбома?

Во всяком случае, я стала более уверенной в себе. Я думаю, дело просто в опыте, накопленном за годы. Просто в осознании того, что даже если сегодня день не очень удался, то завтра тем более будет лучше. Если так посмотреть, то я, безусловно, стала круче.

Благодарю Вас за интервью.

Благодарю Вас.

Wie wir halt so leben

Die Elektronikmusikerin Barbara Morgenstern besingt das Hin und Her des Menschen – nun auch auf Englisch.

Wir sind bei ihr im Studio verabredet, unten sei keine Klingel, einfach mit dem Handy kurz durchrufen, sie komme dann runter. Und so stehe ich nachmittags um vier in drückender Schwüle vor dem Backstein der Kunstfabrik in Berlin-Treptow und tippe ihre Nummer. Früher erhob sich hier um die Ecke der antifaschistische Schutzwall, jetzt wartet das Badeschiff in der Spree auf Schwimmer; Cafés am Wasser, ein Techno-Club und Public Viewing – die neue Grenze verläuft zwischen Arbeit und Schlaf, auf einem Vergnügungsstreifen.

Eine Frau in Sweatshirt und Trainingshose tritt durch die Stahltür ins Licht, das ist also Barbara Morgenstern. Ich habe sie noch nie gesehen, nicht einmal auf der Bühne, immer nur auf Platten gehört, und so begegne ich einer Fremden, die ich gut kenne und die mich gut kennt, wie könnte sie mich sonst so verrückt machen mit ihren Zeilen. Ich hänge seit Jahren an ihren Lippen; sie duzt mich sofort.

Im zweiten Stock eine Schiebetür, dahinter ein riesiges Atelier, hohe Decken. Ein paar Gemälde stehen herum von malenden Untermieterinnen, warme Luft durch die Fenster, Himmel, Grün.

Sie hat gerade ein neues Album herausgebracht, Sweet Silence, schöner Anlass zu reden, und es erscheint mir so unangemessen wie unabwendbar, gleich scharfen Protest anzumelden, während sie noch am Gasherd steht und einen Espresso rauszischen lässt. Wie kann sie nur auf Englisch singen jetzt! Hat sich denn außer mir niemand beschwert?

»Ich bekomme Applaus, freundliche Mails, nur selten ein differenziertes Echo«, sagt sie mit fein dosiertem Amusement. Ein »Ogottogott« sei nicht zu ihr gedrungen, aber Freunde hätten ihr gesagt, sie müssten sich ans Englische erst gewöhnen.

Zum Beispiel diese Zeilen, insistiere ich:

Das Umland und seine Stadt

Haben fast nichts miteinander zu tun

Hat man so was in deutschem Liedgut je gehört? Also, außer bei Brecht vielleicht. Das hat sie vor einigen Jahren über Berlin gesungen! Und dann noch hinterhergeschoben:

Wir sind sexy und arm und begehrt

Und das Brachland drum herum scheint nichts wert

Stadtplanerisches Liedermaching, so hatte ich es verstanden, großartig! Jetzt lächelt sie undosiert. Sie sei früher jede Woche nach Kleinmachnow rausgefahren und auf dem Weg zurück in der S-Bahn einem Roma-Paar begegnet, das sie so beeindruckt habe. Der Rassismus rund um Berlin und das Multikulti mittendrin, wie das so gar nicht zusammengehe...

Also weniger Stadtplanung als Intoleranz? »Ich kann schwer erklären, was ich meine.«

Kritiker haben das Verrätselte ihrer Texte moniert; sie nennt es Offenheit: »Wenn man bei einer Zeile denkt, ›ja, genau‹, das ist das Schönste, was man mir sagen kann.« So wird ihr mein Missverständnis zum Kompliment, aber ich mache es gerne. Ihre Lieder kreisen um Fragmente des Alltags, um das Hin und Her des Individuums und um das Vorübergehende unseres Daseins, das wir nach Kräften zu vergessen suchen.

Ich lief sehr viel / Doch das Ziel / Kam nicht näher Dann stand ich still / Und es fiel / Auf mich nieder

Was immer sie damit meint, man versteht es schon richtig. Und nun also auf Englisch.

Who wants to cut back / On hedonistic behavior Try to be brave / Face the cost of this favor

Das möge übersetzen, wer will: Es wird auch da kein deutscher Schlager draus.

Letztes Jahr habe sie bei einem Projekt des Goethe-Institutes mit afghanischen Frauen Englisch singen müssen und gestaunt, wie leicht das sei. Wie zur Bestätigung wirft sie mir den Satz zu: »Das Deutsche ist hakelig als gesangliche Transportsprache.«

Zudem würde sie gern mehr Hörer erreichen, anderswo. Anfangs, in den Neunzigern, habe sie die deutschen Texte noch unter den Teppich ihrer elektronischen Musik gekehrt. Dann sei sie im Ausland immer wieder um Übersetzungen gebeten worden. Natürlich habe sie sich gefragt: »Kann ich auf Englisch schreiben?« Sie habe es versucht und sich mit zwei Muttersprachlern im Café getroffen. Die hätten die Texte gelesen, hier und da die Grammatik beanstandet, einzelne Wörter, aber »viel weniger als gedacht«. Und nun der Lohn des Wagnisses: internationales Echo, die erste Interviewanfrage aus England, »wir machen das nächste Woche per Skype«.

Beginnt nun die große internationale Karriere der Barbara Morgenstern? Es wäre nach zwei Jahrzehnten im Musikbetrieb erstaunlich und spät, und sie rechnet wohl nicht sehr damit. Sie zählt zu jenen Musikern des sogenannten Independent, die sich selbstbewusst in einem Mittelfeld eingerichtet haben, nicht der Qualität, aber der Quantität. Einen Teil ihres Geldes verdient sie als Chorleiterin am Berliner Haus der Kulturen der Welt, wo sie ungewöhnliche Herausforderungen zu meistern hat, wie kürzlich jene, das Geräusch einer startenden Boeing zu singen. Das war für ein Video zur Schließung des Tegeler Flughafens, das man nun ja noch länger zeigen kann.

Ansonsten hat sie Mann und Kind und einen geregelten Alltag. Halb sieben aufstehen, neun Uhr die Tochter in die Kita, neun bis halb zehn Mails bearbeiten, zehn bis vier Studio. »Struktur ist alles. Das liebe ich: allein im Raum zu sein und Musik zu machen. Hier gibt es auch kein Internet.« Aber ein Handy? »Nur ein altes Afrika-Handy. Das ist oft aus.«

Und um vier sei dann Feierabend, mit dem Kind nach draußen. Dann ist Spielplatz? »Total.« Ohne Handy? »Manchmal schon.« Wie wir halt so leben. Apropos, sie müsse nun auch los, nach Hause, kochen, Bratwurst mit Kartoffeln.

Ich bringe sie noch zu ihrem Fahrrad. Ein Kindersitz ohne Polster! »Rabenmutter«, rufe ich ihr nach. – »Davongeflogen«, ruft sie zurück. »Wird eh immer nass.«

Born in 1971 in Hagen (Germany), a small town near Düsseldorf, Barbara Morgenstern’s “affair” with music started quite precociously. She began taking jazz-piano lessons as a young girl and, after spending some time in Hamburg, in 1994 she moved to Berlin, where, after some musical projects and in few years, she would become one of the most influential and active musicians from the German electronic music scene.

Her name is linked with two things: one is Monika Enterprise, the Berlin based record-label run by Gudrun Gut (a fundamental figure of the Berlin scene since the very early 80′s), where she releases her records. The second, and most important, is her sound: a very personal mix of electronics with a pop attitude that often oscillates between the melancholic and the optimistic mood, all inmersed in a beautiful layer of harmonies, both vocal and instrumental. Besides her own releases, she is also well-known for her collaborations with prestigious musicians. One of her most frequent companion is Robert Lippok (To Rococo Rot), also member of the Monika crew, with whom she released an EP and the splendid LP Tesri in 2005. But she also is part of project called September Collective, where along Stefan Schneider (Mapstation, To Rococo Rot, Kreidler) and Paul Wirkus, they work on the improvisation field. They released an eponymus album in the label Geographic in 2004 and next month, in May, their second album All the birds were anarchist will be released at Mosz Records.

Barbara’s life is the one of a musician, always open to an exchange of ideas and travelling from one end to the world to the other, playing live sets and discovering new places and stimulus than then she filters through her unique point of view. Barbara agreed kindly to be interview by Self Selector after her return from New Zealand, where she spent the month of March invited by the Goethe Institut and the Institut Français to play live set and compose with the French musician Fred Avril.

What infatuated you first, composing or singing? How did your “love story” with music started and when did you know that music was going to be your way of living?

I started composing songs at the age of 16 . I was a singer in a pop band called “The Lovesongs” (what a creative name!) and took jazz-piano lessons. My dream was to become a jazz piano-player, but I failed because I’m really not keen on rehearsing tunes and scales. But I learned a lot concerning harmonies and since then, I started to get familiar with the jazz idea of improvisation as a way to compose songs.

Many musicians in electronic music tend to compose instrumental songs or feature someone else singing, but you do both. What comes first when you are composing, a vocal melody or musical base?

Mostly the musical base, because I’m such a big fan of looking for uncommon harmony structures.

You work in several projects: your own, your collaborations with Robert Lippok and September Collective. What is your approach, your input, to each of them?

With Robert Lippok we compose together, which means the composition is divided in two halfs and the final output becomes the quintessence of Robert and me. September Collective is based on improvisation. There my part is looking for good melodies and harmonies, playing piano and organ. I just came back from New Zealand where I was invited to compose with the French musician Fred Avril. With him I composed songs, wrote lyrics together and sang a lot, which was new to me after all that instrumental work. So collaborations always open up a new musical side of me.

You form part of the Berlin scene but, because of the sound of your music, as well as for your usual musical partners, it reminds me more of the Düsseldorf scene. Is there still a difference between both cities? What city you consider more interesting in musical terms?

Berlin is much bigger and so is the music scene, which does not mean, that it’s necessarily more interesting. In Düsseldorf are still a lot of things happening (Kreidler, Mapstation… etc.), but I would consider Berlin more interesting, because people from everywhere are constatly moving here, so we have musicians from all over the world and a few more good places to listen to interesting music.

You are one of the most fundamental artists on Monika Enterprise, run by the fantastic Gudrun Gut. How is your relationship with such an historical figure of the Berlin scene and why was Monika your label of choice to develop your musical career?

Gudrun and me really became good friend through all the years and she’s very important for me, because of her long-term support. She has just released her new album (“I put a record on”) and we will go on tour in the USA in September 2007, hopefully driving a nice cabriolet from town to town to rock all the public! Monika actually “chose me” and I’m really happy about it! In 1994 I was part of the so called living-room scene. We used to organize concerts in our own living rooms and it reminded Gudrun a lot of what she used to do in the 80′s, so she asked me if I would like to release an album on Monika and so it all started.

Tell me your process to make a record. What instruments and tools you usually use. Do you prefer more analogic tools and field recordings, a more organic sound, or are you infatuated by the possibilities of having “an orchestra within a computer”, programming and all that?

Actually, I didn’t use so many analog tools for the last albums, so I’m programming a lot and using virtual synthesizers. Every once in a while I record some strings, guitars or drums. But it’s true, my old east-german organ called Vermona ET 6-1 was my best companion during the last 10 years! For my last album, “The Grass Is Always Greener”, I used a lot my piano and I’m moving more and more into the direcction of analog instruments. I think the next album will be mostly based on piano, but you never know! I’m working a lot with my computer as well.

I wish I could, but I can’t understand your lyrics (as I dont speak German!). What are they usually about? Are they an important issue to you (writting another important means of expression) or you privilege the music and the words are just a way of filling in the best way the vocal melodies?

The lyrics are quite important to me. They are very personal, but I try to put my experiences on a more general level. Most of my lyrics – I hope – can work as poems as well. I try to find good formulations. Lyrics are a good way to draw a conclusion of topics that are concerning me, periods I went trough or experiences I’ve had.

To me, you are a master of mixing intimist, introverted music with a certain pop touch. Your songs are sometimes melancholic but with an optimistic essence. How would YOU define your music?

Oh, that´s hard to say! I always say (if people ask me) “I’m composing songs with German lyrics and arrange them electronically”. But I guess that is too general! My music is a bit strange and very personal, bitter-sweet is a word that fits quite well. I hope I can touch people with my music and say something in-between the lines, even music-wise, because to me that is the great power of music: It can communicate topics and emotions without words. And that is proved to me, when I see that I can reach people in foreign countries, where they do not understand German.

I read that the “The Grass Is Always Greener” is about how happy and sad moments often happen next to each other. How everythig can change completely (in both direcctions) which I think is a beautiful concept that I can relate completely to. You are already working on your new album, I think. Do you already have any sort of concept for it? When it will be released and what can we expect from it?

The next album will be based on piano, because I love to play the piano right now and I want to escape from loop-composing with the computer, which can be a huge trap. But I’m at the beginning of the album right now, so it’s hard to say what it will be like. I can only tell about the rough idea I have. Also, I was asked by the “House of World Culture” in Berlin to form a choir, which is a big, new challenge. This new task takes a lot time at the moment, so I can’t say anything about the release date yet. Hopefully it will be out next spring.

You remix songs for other artists and have yours remixed as well, what does that intercourse provides you?

It is interesting to play around with the tracks of other people. Sometimes real new things happen, and the other way round, with my own music remixed by someone else.

Where do you usually find your inspiration to compose?

I get a lot of inspiration from conversations and walks . I’m a passionate walker. And of course records and concerts inspire me a lot.

So what music do you listen to? What are your favourites musicians from now and always?

I brought back a wonderful album from New Zealand from a woman called Bachelorette, she’s doing electronic music with wonderful harmonies (www.myspace.com/bachelorettepop ). Because of the work for the choir I listened to different music styles during the last weeks, which was totally interesting and inspiring. I have listened to old soul-classics like Al Green, Nina Simone, Jimy Cliff and tons of independent music. Stina Nordenstam, Feist and Radiohead impressed me again. And I can really recommend the last album of LCD Soundsytem, fantastic dance music!

The living room has always been an integral facet of Barbara Morgenstern's aesthetic, both literally and figuratively. The Berlin-based electronic singer-songwriter-producer–known for her hushed and huddled organ tones and crisply sequenced wisps–emerged as part of the mid-'90s DIY Wohnzimmer ("living room") movement, where artists hosted informal concerts throughout the diffused squats of the former East Berlin. Fueled by this communal experience–a bonding moment for Germany's culturally disconnected post-WWII generation–Morgenstern produced plaintive, digitally dappled pop with room to emit and emote.

"I came from a small town in the Rhein-Ruhr [industrial belt] to Berlin, which was then also full of rotten buildings," says Morgenstern by phone from the increasingly gentrified German capitol. "Here we had illegal clubs and cafés where people would meet [and] struggle together for identity."

In reunited Germany's hedonistic state–a byproduct of decaying authority in the wake of reunification–Morgenstern also found a romantic industrialism that fueled her collaborative spirit, resulting in albums and installations with Stefan Betke (Pole), Thomas Fehlmann (The Orb/Readymade), and Stefan Schneider and Robert Lippok (both To Rococo Rot), among others. Morgenstern's frictionless approach to glitch-pop–soft-focus productions designed for the hearth rather than cavernous concert halls–was best summed up by her 2003 album Nichts Muss (Monika), whose title roughly translates to "nothing forced."

Morgenstern's fourth full-length, The Grass Is Always Greener, finds her returning to her living room piano, having experienced far vaster living and breathing room following a year-long Goethe Institut-sponsored world tour alongside Maximillian Hecker.

"I saw Germany in a different light and that our life is so high-standard compared to India, Indonesia," says Morgenstern. "Making music is really a luxury; there they just care about living. I really came to value certain rights we have at home. Situations could change so quickly, be both happy and sad, and this is in the album."

Cultural identity has long played a prominent role in Morgenstern's music. She and her peers of the '90s electronische musik wave–Mouse on Mars, Ellen Allien, Michael Mayer, Gudrun Gut–subtly imbue their music with a melancholy inherited (along with a conflicting sense of pride and guilt) as children of post-war Germany. Having once fielded the frustrations of an unsure industry, she observes that the new wave of German artists benefit from increased self-assurance, an attitude reflected in the country's new national campaign, "Du bist Deutschland" ("You Are Germany").

While her techno contemporaries' most Teutonic quality is often their sense of rhythm, Morgenstern delivers sincere, honeyed melodies in her native language. But she's also an emissary of a greater pop tradition, peppering her songs with English phrasing, as on The Grass Is Always Greener's atypically uptempo first single, "The Operator." "English sounds really nice in a song that is really poppy, like when I say 'Take me, take me, I like [the band] a-ha," laughs Morgenstern.

As experienced by this writer in Germany early 2003, Morgenstern strikes a far cheekier pose live than on record, while always vibing off of the audience. And far from her days being satisfied playing friends' living rooms, Morgenstern has now traveled extensively, from jungle-overrun Buddhist temples to technology-oversaturated clubs. Along the way she came to realize that the grass is not always greener, and returned to Berlin with a heightened appreciation of "rotten" eddies, and secret hideaways and stomping grounds. She applies a newly ascetic, less cluttered aesthetic to The Grass..., which is less a series of tightly sequenced pirouettes than a selection of panoramic snapshots.

"Solo shows never had enough tension, and I was fed up of the organ and wanted to play the songs on a piano," says Morgenstern. "I've always wanted to play a song from beginning to end. I wanted the ability to improvise, and not think so much about what could and could not be done with programming beats. I had been thinking previously in small patterns and sometimes it kills dynamics, so I wanted to feel more just the song with a drummer."

Indeed, The Grass Is Always Greener sees less use of the organ (almost a crime, considering "organ" is almost central to Morgenstern), and introduces splashier percussion and crinkly detailing.

Some titles encapsulate particular settings, such as "Unser Mann Aus Hollywood" ("Our Man from Hollywood"), "Juist" (an island off northern Germany), "Die Japanische Schranke" ("The Japanese Gate"), and Mailand (Milan). Others personify a more universal ardor, including "Das Schone Einheitsbild" (somewhere between "The Beautiful Image" and "Uniformity"), "Alles Was Lebt Bewegt Sich" ("Everything that Lives Moves"), and "Ein Paar Sekunden" ("A Few Seconds"). The overall mood–familiar to fans of Lali Puna, Joni Mitchell, New Order, and Björk–is one of hopeful longing for places of residence and resonance.

"I had gone so many places," says Morgenstern, "and I wanted my songs to do so also, but always return with me to where I feel most creative, most at home."

Hot Spots
Barbara Morgenstern Picks the Most Interesting Stops on Her World Tour.

Mumbai: The people, the food, the colors, the smell, and the nature were completely exciting. A one-hour walk on the street was filled with thousands of impressions, after which we were completely exhausted. I've never experienced a society more different to ours. Although it's so poor, the atmosphere is friendly and peaceful.

Peking: We had the chance to go to the Great Wall and the Forbidden City. It was very cold and fresh and the old Chinese architecture's wideness and its space really impressed me. While playing, the people stand really close to the stage. Body contact in everyday life is really usual, which I'm not used to–it sometimes made me aggressive. You feel the economic progress and the growth everywhere.

Tel Aviv: I've never been to Israel before and as a German, you are full of fear [of] how people will treat you. I experienced that it was not a problem to be German; people [want to interact with you] to work on the history. The city is amazing; it's very [similar] to Berlin but empty because of bomb threats. It was interesting to listen to people of my age talking about the conflict between Israel and Palestine and I really enjoyed the beach, the concert, and the atmosphere.

Tokyo: We came to Tokyo with horrible jetlag and immediately went to dinner in Shibuya. This was a complete culture shock–the big crossings with hundreds of people, hundreds of people in the metro. The sounds and the lights were so massive that I felt like I was on another planet. The clash of old culture and pop culture is fascinating.

Taschkent: Taschkent is the capital of Uzbekistan, a country [caught] between the [Oriental way of life] and Communism–what a strange mixture. It is a big city that was completely destroyed by an earthquake in the '60s. The people were crazy about the music–shouting, dancing. I was dancing on the stage. It was massive!

Stern Lecture: An Interview with Barbara Morgenstern

Interviewed 6/24/2006 after a show at Tonic in New York.

TW: Tell me how you got started touring with John Darnielle [of Mountain Goats].

BM: Actually he asked me. He’s a fan of my music so he asked if I wanted to play the west coast with him. There was also a connection between our booking agents and promoters.

TW: Had you heard his stuff before?

BM: Barely. I mean I knew him, I knew that [Mountain Goats] existed, I heard it at a friend’s, but I wasn’t into the music really. Sorry for that!

TW: But it worked out – you said earlier that the crowds on the west coast were mostly the Mountain Goats crowd and they ended up seeing you as a bonus.

BM: It was like that. They were really into it, I sold a lot of CDs. I thought for me it was a great success. I wanna come back soon to continue somehow, and not to be forgotten again.

TW: When was the last time you were here for shows?

BM: 2003.

TW: And who were you touring with?

BM: With Maximillian Hecker. That was the only other time when I came here.

TW: And that was sponsored by Goethe Institute?

BM: Yes.

TW: Why did they sponsor you for that?

BM: They just asked me! I mean you can’t promote the Goethe institute. They ask the people they want to.

TW: Did they have some sort of expectations for the tour?

BM: No, that’s what we thought at the beginning, that we’d have to fulfill some kind of behavior or something, but they said OK, we ask you for the music, you do the music, that’s it. And if you don’t wanna go out to eat with the people, and if you don’t want to represent something then stay in. And that was a big pleasure to know that they said before, OK, do what you want, be as you are. We ask you for music, play concerts, that’s it. No pressure.

TW: Did you have a drummer, or play alone?

BM: I had a band, but not this drummer [on tour now]. This drummer cancelled 6 weeks before, which was really a pity, more for him than for me. I asked a friend, I had a guitar player with me. But I played the first month of shows alone.

TW: Do you always play with a drummer, or live instrumentation?

BM: Yes, one aspect is not to be alone on the road. I mean if you really play alone, if you’re the top act of the night like yesterday, it’s a lot to do the evening just alone. It’s possible but I think – the drummer played on the record as well, he’s really integrated into the new songs, and I like to play with him. And I think live, it’s more vivid. We can interact, we can have fun together, we can do some improvisations. And I played with a drummer before and he did some keyboards for us too. So it was not just a drummer. He did eDrums. For the album, I did all the stuff in my studio, then went to Hamburg for 4 days to record the drums. After that I went back and cut the drums, put everything in shape, arranged the stuff, went to the studio, mixed it.

TW: Before, you had production help from Robert Lippok…

BM: I mean it’s not really production help, it’s like OK, I want the people. I do everything myself just to prepare the record and then I go to the studio to do the sound. And that’s it. Because I think, OK, my studio is not good enough, so it’s a problem if you have the bass frequencies a certain way, but in the end it’s good to have another person with a distant view on my sound. That’s what I did with Stefan Betke [aka Pole] too. We wanted to do more but it didn’t work out. He doesn’t have the time. But for this record I decided, ok, I’ll do everything myself, I’ll record everything – so I moved to Hamburg, I recorded the drums, I cut them, I know how the sound is going – I’ve been going to the studio of a friend of mine from Tarwater. He’s got a studio and we mixed the album in 3 days. That only means setup, mixing, and sorting out the frequencies – that’s it. That’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to have any sort of stress in the end. It’s only like, OK, too much bass, or the piano is not clear enough, things like that.

TW: Do you think that this record [The Grass is Always Greener] sounds a lot different than the stuff you did with Stefan Betke or Robert Lippok?

BM: With Robert it’s exactly the same procedure, we work at my studio and then go to Bern to Tarwater’s studio to mix it. With Stefan Betke, I did the album and I was really satisfied with it and my sound is warm somehow. I like low-mids, and so I like this sort of sound. It can be a bit dirty. Stefan, Pole, is really a frequency artist somehow. He really likes to have a clean sound and he wants to play that up. I had the album ready and he wanted to make something like a real electronic album, all of it. He had a new sound system and so he said, ok, do you like this? We had a lot of fights in the studio because I was not satisfied with it and then I was so upset I didn’t do the album at home. My friends, my boyfriend, they all said the album was destroyed. And I was really really upset at first. Stefan and me we are friends, so I thought OK, I want to keep the friendship and I want to have a good album and I don’t want to mix everything again. Let’s find new people, go again through the whole process. Then I went to the studio because Stefan ran out of time, and I did some remixing and I changed some stuff. That’s how it was. It was not that good of an experience to let other people work on my sound. I like to work with other people, with Robert it’s really 50/50. But if it’s my stuff and people come from another view and that doesn’t fit, then it can be stressful. So I thought ok, from now on I want to keep everything in my hands. With the Tarwater guy I know he’s really excellent, we like each other, he’s very respectful of what I do.

TW: He did my favorite remix of one of your songs – “Aus Heiterem Himmel.” Your songs are very easy to listen to – I don’t speak German, so, I don’t know a lot of the lyrical content but it’s very easy on the ears and very smooth and very fun. But for your remixes it seems like you either seek out people or they seek you out and they make your work a little more challenging.

BM: What does it mean, challenging?

TW: A little more difficult to get into – not quite as poppy.

BM: You think? The Ellen Allien mix was really 4 to the floor. The Jimmy Tamborello mix – I love his remix. That was a bit difficult to get into.

TW: How do you seek people out to do remixes?

BM: Just friends. Jimmy is on Monika as well. He released an album as Figurine, another name. So I knew him, we did some shows together in Germany. Tarwater and I are good friends, Ellen Allien is a friend, and the fourth one – [Lawrence] – I loved it. So I asked him.

TW: But everyone who does remixes for you – from your earliest stuff until now –

BM: Friends as well. One was a very old friend from Blumfeld, which is a very successful band in Germany. They were never successful abroad. I don’t know why.

I think they tried to play in England but that’s it. It’s always people I know or who are somehow on the circle of friends.

TW: How much do you play when you’re at home in Berlin?

BM: 2 or 3 times a year. It’s not that much in Berlin. It makes no sense to play there often. And then I just play if people ask me or if I have a record release party or something. I played in a theatre called Folkspriner a lot, a big theatre from East German times. It’s really good and they do a lot of concerts, I play there a lot. I mean I do a tour when through Germany when the record is released, or I just go if people ask me.

TW: Who do you end up playing with when you’re in Berlin? People more on the electronic side or people like Mountain Goats?

BM: Electronic.

TW: Have you done any collaborations with people in a live sense, or do you just perform your own work live?

BM: With Robert Lippok, we did that last year completely. Then I can concentrate on my own record and I did not have to think about playing live in between. I played a lot of shows with him, and improvising with two other friends of mine, so we played some shows last year and the year before. From time to time we play together, so that’s what I do.

TW: Are you playing mostly with dance nights?

BM: Most of them are quiet. With Robert I played with high energy dance shows and with this improvisation I played just quiet shows because improvisation needs a bit of silence. And you sit and you really listen. The stuff I play, you saw yesterday, Tonic was a good reference. I play places like that most of the time.

TW: I noticed there was a whole lot more straight piano sound. Is that a result of your producing it all by yourself or is that a sound you wanted to do for a while?

BM: I mean, I did the other records as well so it’s really my work. I don’t have the feeling that. For Fjorden I asked for Robert to take part in one song. I’m doing all of the stuff, my composition, all that. So it doesn’t matter if I did that. But the reason was I really wanted to play the songs. I wanted to be able to play a whole song on the piano. I wanted to change my instrument, I wanted to move a bit away from the organ. I chose my piano at home.

TW: Are you thinking about your live act while you’re making your record?

BM: I do for sure. I played lots of live shows so I think about that for sure.

TW: Has it made it more fun for you to have the extra piano parts to play?

BM: What do you mean?

TW: I know that a lot of performers here get frustrated with just playing on a laptop.

BM: I never was a pure laptop act. I always played organ. I always played on a song, I played and I played pianos before so that’s the difference from the time before. The amount of live playing is really the same. I mean I play on every song - that’s the idea of me playing live. So that doesn’t change a lot for me feeling-wise.

TW: I feel like the single “The Operator” sounds a little bit different from the rest of the album, a little bit different from the stuff you’ve done in the past. It feels more like a single, very poppy. I don’t know anything about radio in Germany or pop music over there, do you get played on the radio over there?

BM: A bit, not that much. I had about 3 versions of the song, or 4 or 5 or so. So it’s a really long process, and I came back to this version because it fits. It was like this, it wasn’t supposed to be the single for me. For me I wanted to choose the first song. But then Gudrun [Gut] from the label said we choose [the shorter version of the song].

TW: Is there a lot of contact between you and Gudrun and other people at Monika?

BM: Yeah for sure. Not all the time, but we see each other often.

TW: Are you doing collaborations with any of them?

BM: I want to do something with Robert again. For me it was a bit like, too many places to work on. So I wanted to go again on my own. I want to do something with James, who played yesterday as well, James Everest.

TW: Is he involved in other projects?

BM: He plays with his sister and that’s it. We met him in Minneapolis just one week ago. And it was just…he did our shows there, he was the promoter. Did you come yesterday?

TW: I came at about 10.

BM: He was the first to play. The guy with a guitar. That was him. So we met in Minneapolis and we immediately became friends, the drummer and his wife and us. We played some songs together. It was nice.

TW: You talked last night of a song about everywhere in the end booking the same to you when you were touring in different cities. Do you like the process of touring and going around and seeing new places or is it tiring and boring in the end? Do you wish you could stay at home?

BM: To leave home, it’s always hard. It’s like you have to really pull yourself out of everyday life, away from your family. It’s like, ugh! I don’t want to go. But if I’m on the road, then it’s fine. I really enjoy America too, and I was really unsure before I left, I felt, oh shit, should I really do it? And then it’s really fun. It’s half and half. When I’m home I don’t wanna go and when I’m on the road it’s pure fun. I mean it’s great to see all these cities and all these places and for me the world has really opened my horizons, and you are in the countries and you are in the places, and you can take a look and you can get an idea of what’s going on in these places. We traveled China, Uzbekistan, Japan, South Africa, South America. That was really a wide range of places to be. This is a great present I got. But on the other hand, it was really exhausting, this tour! In the end it was hard for me to go back into everyday life and start doing music again and stuff like that.

TW: What kind of crowd did you get in Uzbekistan or South Africa?

BM: It was the same, people of our age. I mean sometimes younger, and I was surprised, the concerts were crowded all over, sometimes gallery people came as well. They were invited by the Goethe Institut. But a lot of normal crowds in normal places, and we played good clubs. In Uzbekistan they went crazy! They were shouting, screaming the whole time because nobody’s coming there to play a show. It was one of the best shows I ever had.

TW: How do you think people there get into your music? Through the internet? I’m always curious as how people in South Africa or wherever end up finding out about your music.

BM: in South Africa they were just invited by the Institut. But South America was brilliant because they knew it from the Internet. And in Uzbekistan I don’t think anybody knew my music. It was like, ok, you have a crowd who’s interested in this kind of music and it’s mostly this kind of American or European-way countries, like Japan they know us. But most of the time it was new for them.

TW: It seems like Uwe Schmidt is building a big empire in Argentina, there’s a lot of music going on down there. Do you interact with him at all?

BM: No, who’s that?

TW: Atom heart.

BM: Isn’t he in Chile? Yes, he’s there for a long time. It’s a huge community of people, of musicians living in Chile. I’ve got friends who went over there and stayed for a while, a friend who lived in Berlin and is connected with Monika. I know about this but I’m not a part of it.

TW: It seems like most of your songs are based on a really simple arpeggiation that builds and builds. When you’re picking up new songs do you start with a simple chord all the time and build on it?

BM: Most of the time I’m really trying to look for something on the piano. But for the new album I really developed it on the piano and then transferred it and arranged it on the computer. So I’m just looking for good combinations like this.

TW: Were you trained at all on the piano?

BM: As a child, just normal lessons at music school.

TW: Is your family musical?

BM: My father and mother both played piano. My grandparents were very musical and they met each other through music. So there was always a lot of music around, and my father was really into music. He was very emotional with music.

TW: Do your parents and family enjoy your music now? Do they come out and see it?

BM: My father died already but he really enjoyed it, that was a big pleasure and my mother as well. I think my father enjoyed it more than my mother. They had a relationship to the music.

TW: Is there anyone right now in Berlin, or anywhere that you’re very interested in hearing what they’re coming out with now, anyone in particular that you’re looking forward to hearing?

BM: Kammerflimmer Kollektiv. Do you know them?

TW: Mmm hmm.

BM: I heard of them a long time ago, and I’m really smashed by that. This is the one that’s really I’m a fan of at the moment.

TW: What label are they on?

BM: Staubgold.

TW: I want to ask you a little bit about Berlin in general. Have you lived there all your life?

BM: No, I’m born in the middle part of Germany, a small town called Hagen, close to the industrial area in Germany. After school I went to Hamburg because there was some kind of course at the university for pop music, only six weeks long. I got to know all of music friends there afterwards. I lived there for a while and then I moved to Berlin.

TW: What year did you move to Berlin?

BM: ‘94.

TW: Has it changed a lot since then?

BM: At the beginning the wall just fell and you’ve got lots and lots of rotten houses, and there was a lot of space for things to do. And then the government moved to Berlin and it became the capital. With this, lots of things changed. I mean the part where I started to live, it’s a really posh place now, now it’s crowded with children, mothers pushing their strollers. It’s changed a lot.

TW: Normally the same thing is happens here. But still a lot of people from the electronic music community here have been moving to Berlin. Do you feel like it’s becoming harder for artists to work there and become successful or whatever they wanna do?

BM: I don’t think so, because the music scene is really open. There’s not a lot of competition. I met the guys from To Rococo Rot, or Pole, or Thomas Fehlmann, so it’s easy to work with them. They are open-minded. It’s not like, “show me what you can do,” so that helps a lot. [pauses to get some grapes]

TW: For most of the songs last night you kind of introduced them telling everyone what the songs were about in German. Do you feel like it’s hard to understand the songs the same way without knowing the lyrics? You seemed a little concerned…

BM: Nobody can speak German in America so that’s why I say that. I don’t do that in Germany. But the lyrics have several meanings so I only say the soft part of them, but I don’t wanna explain … you can look at them from different points of view.

TW: Have you ever thought of writing translations?

BM: Yeah. I wanted to do that for James and he wanted to have me get good translations and put them on the internet so that people would know what I’m singing about.

TW: What do you normally sing about? What’s “The Operator” about?

BM: I can’t tell [you] that [laughs]. The operator is a place where all your questions will be solved. It’s about a violent relationship that has destroyed everything and then you go to the operator and you try to solve your questions. “The Grass is Always Greener” is about being out of home, being homesick, to get your power again and to see the beauty in the details. It’s mostly about seeing the beauty in the details.

TW: You said this album is about good things and bad things happening at the same time.

BM: That’s only the one song “Polar.” The album is a lot about traveling, about the world tour. You get to recognize that mostly every city center looks the same and it’s OK, of course it’s about globalization, how we, the western world and the American economy are overwhelming all the cultures. Like Asia, you find Starbucks and McDonalds everywhere and they lose their traditions, their food tradition. It’s some kind of future. For me it was checking to see the magazines in Asia and in every magazine was a western or European woman, like everyone likes that.

TW: Would you say it’s a little bit political?

BM: Yeah, for sure. I’m satisfied with the lyrics; I try to put it in a poem – like say OK, there’s this war in another way, war in new clothing, war with a new face. And I really dislike that.

TW: What are you working on next?

BM: I think I wanna do a lot of stuff with noise and piano. That’s the idea I’ve got.

TW: Any remixes or anything coming up soon?

BM: Yeah, I did a remix for the drummer we’re playing with, it’s a German band. I’m doing some recordings with the improv group. We’ve got to finish our album.

TW: do you play any other instruments besides piano?

BM: Guitar.

TW: Last time you were here did you play guitar on tour?

BM: No, it’s just, the guitars on the new album I played for myself just like basic guitar playing. When we play in Germany I play guitar for one song in the end. You remember “Teenage Kicks?” It doesn’t make sense to play this without guitar. You’ve got this – duhduhduhdudh [guitar noise]. Like I’ve got a big golden guitar. It’s a pity I can’t play that here, but it’s a baritone guitar, and it’s really big, and I don’t want to carry that here.

TW: Where’s your favorite place to play?

BM: We thought after this tour America because the crowd is so so nice. It’s a good place to play.

TW: I feel like if the album were sung in English and it was coming from here and you were playing here as well it might almost be perceived as a pop record.

BM: That’s not bad.

TW: Not at all.

BM: I mean for the next album, singing one song in English or translating the lyrics in the cover would be nice. But the lyrics are hard to understand in German as well so you really have to read them because it’s a lot of playing with words and not really clear until you really read it.

TW: Why did you choose to sing a couple of words in English on certain songs?

BM: I like these pop phrases. Like “Take me [to the operator]” … and for “Aus Heiterem Himmel,” it’s a nice idea to have one verse in German and one in English. And on the album before I had a song about Hollywood icons. And so I had to sing them in English and it was a song about “happy end,” and this expression doesn’t exist in Germany.

TW: There’s one song where you kept saying “San Francisco.”

BM: I wrote that song in San Francisco! “The Grass is Always Greener.” So I was there and I was homesick and I called my boyfriend and I was really like…I wanna go home and he said, ok, enjoy the time, enjoy the details, take a look at them. That’s what the song is about, this phone call.