You Know You Know

"Hey, what do you think of the David Bowie single? Is this a subject due for exploration on Compartmentsee........?"

I do not normally respond to reader’s requests, partly because I haven’t had any yet. So I was thrilled when one of my long term readers, Louise, emailed me this with this request to explore the new David Bowie single, Where are we Now.

But as I am not a Bowie expert, reviewing this could prove to be difficult.

I turn to my friend Joe. Joe is my musical tastemaker. He supplies me with musical inspiration with his sublimely crafted compilations. If faced with a tricky music trivia question where my life depended on it, I know Joe would come through for me.

I send him a message on Facebook asking him what he thinks of the new single, to which he replies:

"I Love it and all of its Berlin references "

If he likes the song I know it will only be a matter of time, then, before I like it.

I first hear it premiered on early morning BBC Radio 4. I am trying to hear it over the general din of my kids having breakfast. (While my kids eat breakfast I am in the habit of dashing over and turning down BBC Radio 4 at the mention of rape, child abuse and serial killings. On some mornings I am up and down quite a bit, begging the question as to why we listen to it at all).

Bowie’s voice sounds all at once fragile,lamenting, haunting and haunted. It could break, it is old, but sings true and endures with powerful emotion to the end of the song.

I get up, this time not to protect my kids from the content of Radio 4 but to put my ear up close enough to the radio to hear the song at all. I have the feeling that a lot in my life is mediated in a way that is distracted, including friends and family, which is a terrifying thought.

The Today programme presenter perhaps wonders for a moment how to create the right mood with his voice to introduce the new song by David Bowie, that is being officially introduced to the world. The presenter, let’s call him Jon, is tired, beat. His children kept him up last night. He had a row with his wife. Reading the news everyday is getting him down. Is the world really so bad? Is it so terrible?  Let us imagine it for a minute his internal monologue as he hears the Bowie song he has just introduced:

Here comes Bowie, yeah yeah, and soon we will be back to financial news, wars and death. God I am tired. Bowie, you hit it on the nail, mate. This is how I feel. I should be reading the news as you are singing your song. Please God, give me the courage to read the news with your voice. This news is sad, and I want to remember or imagine a better time when there was hope. Your voice has a sadness to it, but in your voice there is also hope. You sing about Berlin, a city destroyed by bombs, divided by a wall, lives blighted by political circumstance. But you also sing about the constants in our lives, if we might just look for them. As long as there’s sun, as long as there’s rain, as long as there’s fire. Bloody poignant stuff, mate. You know it has really got me thinking about my wife and our row. The line, as long as there’s me, as long as there’s you. …..

Well. That was, “Where are we now?”  by David Bowie so let’s move on the financial markets……..

Don’t they know that I am dying inside? I met my wife when I was working as a correspondent In Berlin. God, what an exciting time that was, just as the wall was coming down! What a great fucking story that was!!!

On Facebook, I later see that Joe has 'liked' a cover version of David Bowie’s,Where Are We Now by musical experimenter and artist extraordinaire Momus. Clicking then onto the Momus website I discover that he is soon to play in Berlin in the district of Wedding, where I used to live!

Everything just seems to come together and I feel able to review the song. From Louise, to Joe, to BBC Radio 4, from Bowie, to Berlin, to Momus, to Wedding, it feels like the circle has closed. And all this via email, Facebook and the internet, without exchanging a single word with anyone.

So soon I will be returning to Berlin, with David Bowie’s lyrics ringing in my ears channeled through the medium of Momus. Or will I? The Momus concert is a secret gig, though advertised as taking place in Wedding. Curiously it may cost either 5 Euros or be free. 

The concert begins at 10pm but even if I don’t manage to find it I will be accompanied by a now familiar soundtrack as I wander around my old stamping ground reminiscing about what just might have been.

Where are we now?

Where are we now?

As long as you know

You know you know.

As long as there’s sun

As long as there’s sun

As long as there’s rain

As long as there’s rain

As long as there’s fire

As long as there’s fire

As long as there’s me

As long as there’s you

And I may not be in the know You know You know, but between Bowie and Momus and the city of Berlin, I do know what I can be grateful for.

Thanks are due to Mr Momus 

Forever Horst

It has to be said that the Germans get pretty bad press in the UK. A standing joke is that the Germans lack a sense of humour. But one of my favourite comedians, Horst Evers, is German. He has that self deprecating humour that the English are supposed to be famous for, but without the self conceit that accompanies some of the TV comics I have seen on British television. His humour is deadpan and he captures the narratives and absurdities of everyday life. Conversations overheard on a bus, the twilight zone of his flat, forays with the German unemployment office; and believe you me, if you can't laugh at this last point then you are done for.

Writing short stories and sketches about Berlin, he lived in the borough of Wedding for a while where we later moved to. This district in Berlin lay in the then untrendy traditionally working class district of Berlin, with a large population of migrants. After living in hyper trendy Prenzlauer Berg in the former East, I found it a relief to live in an area with a wider demographic and with a high street a bit like Lewisham High street in London. There were old people, poor people and a large Turkish immigrant population.

Wedding was one of those places that was for years threatening to come up, to arrive. From what I have heard, with the property boom in Berlin, it now very nearly has.

One of Horst Ever's first collection of short stories, with the ever so slightly ironic title :Wedding - 37 Stories about the Pearl of Berlin's Boroughs was given to me in 2001 when I first moved there, and again as a leaving present when I moved away in 2009.  Horst Ever lived in Wedding when he first moved to Berlin, from 1987 - 1997.

I will try and translate a few of my favourite sketches:.

In  chapter 4
Contact to the outside world


At the (Unemployment) office

The woman behind the counter has been staring at my identification for a good three minutes. At last she looks up.

"Name?"
"Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky."
"What?"
"Strobinsky. Horst Strobinsky."
"But it says here Evers, Horst Evers."
"What?! show me,..., ah, no that's right, it's written Evers, Horst Evers, but it is spoken Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky"
"Oh. Can you spell that?"
Of course. E-V-E-R-S, Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky."

In Chapter 2.
The flat

Lethargy

Germany. A country in crisis. Everywhere you look. demoralised faces. Alienated from life, prone to depression. No one strives to succeed, rolls their sleeves up, produces economic growth!
              Have the Germans become lazy?
              We wanted to investigate further and came across a shocking find. In the flat belonging to Horst Evers there has been hot wash in the machine for a week. Horst Evers had this to say: " I must have washed and spun it at least 30 times, otherwise it started to stink, but I just can't bring myself to hang it up. Oh well, at least in the end my underwear will be so clean, that everyone will be envious of me."

In Chaper 1

Wedding

In the Night bus

Thursday morning, 3.14am, on the 26 night bus, on some dark street in Moabit.
   On the seats in front of me sit two young men. Through their conduct and their gestures they make no secret of the fact that they are quite drunk. Actually, one of them is even more drunk that the other.
   The other one starts a conversation:
    "Hey mate, what d'ya think, we'll 'av another beer, before we knock off, Ok, hee hee hee hee?"
    His neighbour stares at him.
    "HrrrschajhdrerjfnfdssA...."
   Articulating more hastily this time, the first one makes another attempt,not at all bothered by the fact  that his voice has become more of a hoarse shriek.
    " of course, mate., you're right, but we can knock one more back , no problem, Zwitscherklause, it's on the way, your gonna come with me, eh? come with me, eh, heeheeheeheeheehee?"
"Baurschenschaschaaaa..."
A third run at it.
"We'll do it quick, no big deal, down a beer then hit the sack, eh? We'll do it, eh? We'll do it, eh, heeheeheeheehee?"
"Aschascha...aschaschaaa...ooouuuhhhhhhh...bbrrrbruubbrrrbbb!!!"
Suddenly the head of his friend, who has struggled to get a word out, sinks forward and vomits arduously into his rucksack.
Blankly, the the other one looks on.
"Hey, mate. Is that a yes or a no?"

Horst Evers started reading out his short stories 1990 in cabaret theatre in Berlin and now reads his short stories regularly on Berlin radio, has written many more books, and audiobooks.

http://www.horst-evers.de/