For many years almost any kind of street music got on my nerves. Until my mother said to me in her peaceful way: “I always give something to street musicians, they’re your colleagues!” Then the scales fell from my eyes: It’s the truth – these are my colleagues! They can still be annoying at times, but they are colleagues. I also have to admit that I’ve had some great encounters with street music. I remember the punky Brit who played “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure in Hamburg’s U3 between Eppendorfer Baum and Sternschanze. I was suffering from the most severe lovesickness. He didn’t limit himself to a shortened verse and doubled chorus, but played the bitter hit in its entirety from start to finish. He brought tears to my eyes.
I also remember the skinny singer/songwriter someone nicknamed Ant. He played his own English-language compositions with adventurous meters. One of his hits was called “Happy Birthday To Our Port”. The stubborn catchy tune still plagues me every now and then even today. My friends Henna and the Skubsch brothers liked his work so much that they included him on the cover of their fanzine Hamburger Schotenkampf. In general, own compositions: far too seldom do street musicians dare not to hide behind evergreens.
At least that’s original
Two weeks ago I met a braver colleague. At first I was really annoyed by the guy who stood up right next to our restaurant table on Berlin’s Weinbergsweg. He was driving a Hackenporsche loaded with an amplifier, keyboard and loop station. He used the latter to sample his out-of-tune ukulele, which he had strapped just below his neck. He also had a microphone with him, into which he crowed with his head stretched out. The beats from the keyboard seemed to have escaped from a paradise of presets. The man was stubborn, and after the fifth song (!) I had to admit to myself: This is at least original. I was not alone with this impression. A crowd formed and he got applause. A colleague, I thought.
I thought of the older guy who had performed his art in Hamburg-Altona in the early 90s on Neue Grosse Bergstrasse. In an impressive baritone and with a red face, he performed a cappella hits and operetta songs. A handsome man with a very specific granny fan audience. And if you’re lucky, you might even come across a Russian artist with garmon who is performing something by Bach or Tchaikovsky. It’s unbelievable what these people can conjure up out of their instruments! Nevertheless: I also like the cheating of some street musicians. Many play a backing track over which they put a few overdubs. Like a 14-year-old Japanese guy recently in front of the Karstadt am Ku’damm. He barely played a note on his saxophone, but cut a fine figure in his oversized sunglasses – it was jazz in the broadest sense.
That had a bang in the middle of the world of goods
I’m also a fan of the steel drum player who can be heard regularly in the Tiergarten, not far from the Zoo train station. His skilfully played steel drum sounds melancholic and happy at the same time. My colleague is also the guy who plays U2, Guns N’ Roses and similar stuff at Hackescher Markt with a knotted headscarf, amplified electric guitar, microphone and a bright red face. But I really had the best experience in the 1980s in Hamburg on Spitalerstrasse. A disheveled guy with a matted wool sweater, wire-rimmed glasses and a violin yelled political texts through the shopping mile. And when he wasn’t yelling, he was playing the violin, beguilingly beautiful. He was accompanied by two or three fellow musicians. “No, no, we don’t want your world / We don’t want your power / And we don’t want your money / We don’t want to hear about all your swindle / We want to destroy your swindle.”
That had a bang in the middle of the world of goods. This man was born in 1940 under the name of Klaus Christian von Wrochem. He studied violin and composition in Cologne and the USA, devoted himself to avant-garde and new music. In the 1960s he turned his back on everything that he now only felt to be elitist, began a life on the streets and in communities, calling himself Klaus der Geiger from then on. I wanted to interview him for my podcast Reflector two and a half years ago. We already had nice phone calls; Then the pandemic got in the way. I hope to be able to catch up on the conversation soon. And I would consider it quite presumptuous to describe myself as his colleague.
Regarding Jan Müller’s “Reflector” podcast: www.viertausendhertz.de/reflektor
This column first appeared in the Musikexpress issue 11/2022.