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Damon Albarn

Linda Brownlee

ROBERT ROTIFER

„If you can’t write something decent to this you’re a fucking idiot“

So sprach Damon Albarn bei dem Interview, das ich mit ihm für meine FM4 Heartbeat-Sendung über sein am Freitag erscheinendes neues Soloalbum „The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows“ geführt hab.

Von Robert Rotifer

Und weil der Sinn solcher Statements sich nur im Kontext ergründet, veröffentliche ich das Gespräch hier so, wie es auf Sendung zu hören war (bzw. im Player zu hören ist, siehe Link weiter unten), im englischen Original samt Zwischenmoderationen und ein paar zusätzlichen Anmerkungen dazu, die sich erst im Nachhinein beim Lesen aufgedrängt haben.

Robert Rotifer moderiert FM4 Heartbeat und lebt seit 1997 in Großbritannien, erst in London, dann in Canterbury, jetzt beides.

Es war ja ein bisschen wie die Rückkehr eines alten Fluchs. Vor ein paar Wochen, auf dem Weg zu meinem Treffen mit Damon, radelnd am Ufer des Regents’ Canal, brach die Hinterachse meines hübschen, grünen Puch-Rads („Poosh“ sagen sie hier dazu), das nur wenig jünger ist als ich. Es hilft nichts, wir werden auf das Thema Alter hier noch zurückkommen.

Ich hab die attraktive Vintage-Havarie also abgestellt und bin schnell zur nächsten Underground gelaufen, die mich dann nach West-London gebracht hat - natürlich mit Verspätung. Was mich zwangsläufig an mein erstes Interview mit Damon bzw. seine damals noch in einer prekären Zone zwischen Hoffnung auf Durchbruch und drohendem Karriere-Ende operierende Band Blur im Jahre 1993 erinnerte (don’t stop if you’ve heard this one before, die Geschichte ist nötig, um den Anfang des Interviews zu verstehen).

Damals war ich auf dem Weg zwischen dem Reading Festival und der EMI-Zentrale in London am Manchester Square in einen furchtbaren Stau gekommen, Mobiltelefone gab’s keine, und als ich irgendwann mit circa zwei Stunden Verspätung im mittlerweile leider längst abgerissenen, (damals leider noch als verzichtbar verkannten) 60s-modernistischen EMI-Haus ankam, war die Band in der Zwischenzeit schon weiter zum Soundcheck nach Windsor gefahren - also ziemlich genau dorthin, wo ich gerade hergekommen war und sie dann Stunden später erwischte.

Ein Achsenbruch am Ufer des Regent’s Canal war gar nichts dagegen. Außer Atem war ich trotzdem.

Damon Albarn: “But alles ist gut.”

RR (ziemlich atemlos): “Alles ist gut. You know, 28 years ago or something, I was so spectacularly late for a Blur interview, because my wife and her friend had decided that I could take them to Reading Festival and back to Manchester Square” (Anm./full disclosure: Völlig falsch! Ich hatte meiner Frau und unserer Freundin selbst angeboten, sie nach Reading zu fahren).

Albarn: “Yup.”

RR: “And then we met in Windsor afterwards. So that’s a bloody long time ago.”

Albarn: “Yeah, it really is.”

RR: “And I think the interesting thing is that if I listen to this record now, it seems like you’re always speaking to various people in different voices, but this is a record that, in my perception, speaks to someone like me who’s been along on the journey.”

Albarn: “Yeah, when I write solo albums, I try to write them for my brothers and sisters. Because when it becomes a solo record, it should somehow express how you feel. And I like that deal, that Faustian pact with myself occasionally. It makes the whole thing a joy to perform. And I get to have a very nice life when I’m doing those gigs. I’ve got brilliant band, and I can just sit and play piano or Wurlitzer, or do a bit at the front and have fun at the front. You know what I mean, I have a choice.”

RR: “You know, listening back to Everyday Robots I remember the big difference between that record and the live show. When I heard the live show, I wanted that record again, like that. And now it seems more as if you’ve already incorporated that dialogue with other musicians into this album. Is that fair to say?"

Albarn: "Well, it was always going to be something that could shapeshift. I mean, when you start with...”

An dieser Stelle kramt Damon Albarn sein iPad hervor und zeigt mir Bilder der isländischen Wildnis vor seinem Studiofenster.

Albarn: “So it’s this at your starting point. If you can’t write something decent to this, you’re a fucking idiot. When you wake up and you’re sitting at the piano to that every day...”

RR: “So is that Iceland?”

Albarn: “That’s my view from my window in Iceland.”

RR: “So there’s a piano, and what’s that, a Hammond?”

Albarn: “That’s an old Hammond, yeah. A 50s Hammond and my piano. This was brought in. And behind me there were double bass players, cello, violin, a bass trombone, French horn. And we’re all playing...”

RR: “To the landscape. That’s the vibe I hear.”

Albarn: “Exactly. Well, that’s a great vibe. I love records like that. You know, like Mercury Rev albums have got that colour. It’s that blue. It’s a blue record, you know?"

Damon Albarn: Polaris (Transgressive/PIAS)
Polaris aus The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows, dem neuen Soloalbum von Damon Albarn, über dessen Entstehung ich mit ihm in seinem Londoner Studio im ausgebauten Dachgeschoss einer ehemaligen Autospenglerei in West-London gesprochen hab. Umgeben von Instrumenten, aber auch von Bücherregalen.

Und in einem davon hinter Damon ausgestellt waren Marionetten der Mitglieder von The Good, The Bad & The Queen, und die Puppe, die den verstorbenen Tony Allen darstellt, war verdeckt von einem Foto des Schlagzeugers. Was mich auf die Idee gebracht hat, zu fragen, ob das Gedicht von John Clare, das der Titelsong des Soloalbums zitiert, etwas mit der Verarbeitung des Todes von Tony Allen zu tun hat.

RR: “We’re sitting here, and there’s a picture of Tony Allen in your shelf.”

Albarn: “I put it there because when we were doing our ventriloquist stuff, Paul and I, we got a Tony one, but it wasn’t quite...” (enthüllt die Tony Allen-Puppe unter dem Foto) ... it’s not quite right. So, you know (stellt das Foto wieder vor die Puppe), that is right. That is absolutely right.”

RR: “The way that John Clare poem deals with dealing with death, was Tony Allen the person you thought of there?”

Albarn: “There is a link to it, but John Clare is writing that to a younger man, I believe. So I’m not doing that. But the spirit of Tony was imbued with such youth and brightness. In a way I find that when you’re singing about people, it’s not really directly to them, because that wouldn’t be enough. It’s got to identify some strange emotion that you’re feeling, you know, you’re not really too self-conscious about the subject.

Damon Albarn: The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows (Transgressive/PIAS)
Der Titelsong des neuen Soloalbums von Damon Albarn, ein Soundtrack zu einer bestimmten Emotion, die er, wie er sagt, mit uns, seinen Schwestern und Brüdern, teilt.

RR: “The emotion that I felt is that we’re at this age now, your brothers and sisters and you, where we have to deal with that kind of loss as well as the loss of youth. There are also lines in there like the one about the beach where you played with your children. There’s that certain melancholy that you get when your children grow up and you lose their childhood selves.”

Albarn: “Oh yeah, ‚The Cormorant‘ is a really powerful song, I think. You know, it’s weird, in the run up to expressing something like that there’s a lot of anxiety. But the wonderful thing about the song is that somehow that very personal expression is transported to a different part of the brain, maybe. And there it’s some more considered thing. I think that that’s what good songs are about.”

Damon Albarn: The Cormorant (Transgressive/PIAS)

RR: “One of my favourite lines that jumped out at me was: ’I’m a pathetic intruder into the abyss.’"

Albarn: “Yeah. I do like that one.”

RR: “So this is what I took from it: We end up being over 50, looking slightly over the precipice. But we think: I’m still a child, I’m not mature enough for where I am. Is that what you were thinking?”

Albarn: “I think that because it’s a lovely image it offers everyone their own interpretation.”

RR: “You would say that. The old get-out clause.”

Albarn: “It’s not. I just think that why I wrote those words may be not as interesting as what other people might read into them. And it’s not selfish. It’s not something with a fixed abode, do you know what I mean?”

RR: “Yes, it can be many different things. I just had this conversation with my son yesterday about how my views have changed over the decades and that I now think a lot of what I used to look down on, like hackwork, both from songwriters and session musicians, is actually some of the most expressive and emotive songs ever written.”

Albarn: “That’s the thing, you know, it’s like... Exactly.”

RR: “But having mentioned my son, he’s also got a Gorillaz poster on the wall. He’s 22. And he grew up with that as a baby. So it doesn’t just speak to your brothers and sisters, but there’s also this weird thing with the Gorillaz being a cartoon band that never change their age, as cartoons never do. There’s a parallel narrative with the the audience.”

Albarn: “I know, it’s funny. It’s nice. I enjoy singing everything to a younger generation much more. You know, it’s a different relationship.”

RR: “While that younger generation from the past can follow you here.”

Albarn: “Exactly. We’re the same. Hopefully, by now we’ve all realised we are all the same inside. This is our brief moment on Earth. And some of the silly ideas we had when we were young... it must be so obvious now that they were silly. I was having a conversation yesterday about this. Do we have licence to criticise the young? Criticise is not the right word, it’s more to have a conversation about cause and effect. Because when you’re young, you haven’t seen any effect. You’re just emotionally running with cause. But as you’re older, you’ve seen cause and effect, so you can have empathy on both sides of the argument to a greater or lesser degree, depending on the circumstance. We certainly mustn’t not have challenging conversations with our young. It’s not just our duty, it’s part of nature, for the whole concept of regeneration to continue in one species, it has to have that somehow involved in it.

Damon Albarn: Darkness To Light (Transgressive/PIAS)

RR: “I would like to know more about what those ‚silly ideas‘ were when you were young because I remember your younger self being quite an analytical, very combative mind.”

Albarn: “Yeah, I still am a bit, but I can laugh at it now. Even though I might be right about something, I can see that you don’t necessarily need to say it quite in that way, you know?”

RR: “I know from my daughter that there are younger girls who really like your music. And I saw a conversation online, which I didn’t look for because it’s terrible when you start looking for...”

Albarn: “Yeah, I don’t have anything online, so I can’t look...”

RR: “Well, don’t. But I did see this one that just turned up on my Twitter timeline. There was an old interview of yours, which was in this typical ironic, quasi-hypersexist fashion.”

Albarn: “Hah! Hang on, hang on, hang on, say that again.”

RR: “Yeah, where you’re talking about ‚tits‘ and that and whatever.”

Albarn: “You mean from back in the day?”

RR: “Back in the day.”

Albarn: “Right.”

RR: “And I remember how before Oasis came... I’m sorry that I mentioned this (das Wort Oasis). Why did I do that?”

Albarn: “It’s okay.”

RR: “But to me, it’s a placeholder. It’s a placeholder for something.”

Albarn: “Hmm. Well, it was it was real. It was.”

RR: “Yeah, exactly, before the actual unexcused sexism came along, when when we thought, being young, that the irony was obvious...”

(Anm.: Schließe mich da eher unehrlich mit ein, war eigentlich schon damals nicht so überzeugt davon, und ja, man hat auch zu jener Zeit schon darüber gestritten. Hier ist als Referenz der Link zum 2015 wiederveröffentlichten Interview, das Damon 1994 mit dem britischen Lad Culture-Magazin Loaded führte. Ein paar interessante, vergleichende Worte zum Kontext der Neunzigerjahre und der damaligen Praxis der Hyperironie im amerikanischen Alt-Rock finden sich übrigens auch in diesem aktuellen Interview mit einem reuigen Steve Albini.)

Albarn: “Yes, of course. But there comes a point where you can’t behave like that anymore because it ceases to have that cachet. And so the young start censoring us because they’re concerned that it’s..."

RR: “They say ‚I never knew he said stuff like that.‘ I look at it from a nowadays perspective, and I can totally understand it: Yeah, to you that would seem totally outrageous now.”

Albarn: “So you’re saying they’re investigating the past and they’re...”

RR: “Yeah. ‚I never knew he said stuff like that. Oh, I don’t know if I like him anymore.‘ Do you know what I mean? Because they can’t see what it felt like then.”

(Anm./question to self: What exactly did it feel like? Du meinst, wie es sich für dich als Typ angefühlt hat. Du weißt nicht, wie es sich für Frauen anfühlte, erinnerst dich aber daran, dass ein großer Teil deiner Generation – inklusive der Frauen, die du kanntest - die Ästhetik des absichtlich schlechten Witzes pflegten, oft zum Unverständnis einer befremdeten älteren Generation und in der Fehlannahme, dass wir dabei alle über dasselbe lachten. Welch ein Irrtum das war, wurde ziemlich schnell, spätestens im dritten großen Britpop-Sommer 1996 klar - siehe erwähnte Oasis und die mit ihrem Image betriebene Glorifizierung echter Kerls aus dem harten Norden bzw. das damit einhergehende „ironische“ Runtermachen von Blur als „südliche Schwuchteln“ - „southern poofs“, bin sicher, das in der britischen Musikpresse damals gelesen zu haben.)

Albarn: “Right? Okay. What she has to understand is that... how do I put this... back in the nineties, you know, I was a young pretty boy, and life had a different energy to it, as anyone who’s young and in that position knows. And if you’re going to make a judgement about the past, then you have to do your history, you have to do your research. If you saw how I behaved within the spectrum, you’ll see that the things I was doing... and if you followed the work, you’d see that it all contradicts. And there’d never be some consistent kind of validation of anything. You could say that I was commenting on the sexism and the nationalism. All I can say is that, you know, I was just... I was young. But that is interesting. [...] Cause that’s what history is. How do any of us understand anything in history? And, you know, whether we like it or not, my friend, we’re part of history. We’re not part of the present.”

RR: “Yeah, I know. And it’s a funny thing to have arrived at a point where there’s generations now of grown-up people who no longer understand the world that way, you know, that kind of comes at you really quickly.”

Damon Albarn: Particles (Transgressive/PIAS)
„Particles“ aus dem am Freitag erscheinenden neuen Soloalbum von Damon Albarn, der sich damit konfrontiert, selbst Teil der Geschichte zu sein. Und dass sein einstiges Ich aus den Neunzigerjahren in diesen Zwanzigerjahren des nächsten Jahrhunderts mit seinen anderen Kulturkämpfen vielleicht der Erklärung oder gar Neupositionierung bedarf.

RR: “I remember last time I interviewed you, we were talking about the word ‚woke‘, which you at that time hadn’t heard. I kind of explained to you what ‚woke‘ was, I seem to remember. And now, some three years later, we’re at the arse end of this culture wars stuff. And we’ve just had Nadine Dorries appointed Culture Secretary (Anm: die ultrarechte neue Kulturministerin, auf Kriegspfad gegen Wokeness jeder Art, ob echt oder erfunden), someone who’s made it part of her career to attack... people like us, basically.”

Albarn: “I know. It’s not great. I mean, I was just, I’m still trying to sort of assimilate it, you know, because the colour of it is a visual. It’s got a mask on it, you know, and it’s very abstract now, but it’s in black, white and red.”

RR: “A bit like the swastika flag.”

Albarn: “I don’t know what it is. It’s not even anything like that, it’s like that...”

RR: “Well, they’re the kind of the colours of propaganda, of 1930s newsprint.”

Albarn: “Yes, exactly. I mean, it’s fascinating that permanent exhibition about Weimar in Berlin, really, you know what a very interesting period in time because there was such a progressive mindset in Weimar, and then suddenly... I’ve got a book, and a few people are going, ‚Why have you got that book?‘ and it’s very interesting, it’s about culture in Nazi Germany, actually, what people were listening to, paintings they liked, books they liked. Always, it’s so important to know your history and understand. This is what I’m trying to say, it’s kind of for everyone, and sometimes I feel that a lot of information these days is expressed so emotionally by people, but they haven’t really given it any breadth. They haven’t seen the bigger picture, you know, they’ve just seen what’s on their screen. And if you think that this illusion that [something] the size of the history of the world can come from something as small as a telephone... And you just put the telephone down and you look around you, right? How about just understanding your vision in front of you entirely? That seems to me to be, or I try to at least aspire to that.”

Damon Albarn: Daft Wader (Transgressive/PIAS)
„Daft Wader“, so heißt der Song aus dem kommenden neuen Damon Albarn-Soloalbum, und worüber haben wir gerade vorhin geredet? Über die Parallelen zwischen der Weimarer Republik und den derzeitigen, sogenannten Kulturkriegen. Dazu eine Klarstellung, meine Frage beginnt mit einem Fehlzitat, das Originalzitat stammt offenbar von NS-Autor und SS-Mitglied Hanns Johst.

RR: “I do see the parallel between the present and the Weimar Republic. One part of it that’s kind of obvious, is that you had Goebbels famously saying that when he thinks of culture he reaches for his revolver. And then, because you mentioned what kind of art people were into, what they were listening to, it’s how the Nazis were kind of obsessed with, and they had this exhibition of ‚Entartete Kunst‘ where they showed all the artists that they despised. ‚degenerate art.‘ And that is reminiscent of how these people can’t stop banging on now about what they find degenerate.”

Albarn: “I’ve just never really understood the deep antipathy of the Conservative to the arts. It’s really strange, I don’t understand, because, you know, some of them...”

RR: “They feel threatened by it.”

Albarn: “But they’re educated, a lot of them, and secretly they love it."

RR: “Michael Gove on Late Review. Do you remember?”

Albarn: “A good example. Off his tits dancing in a Dundee disco having a very good time. Good on him. Fucking great. I’d much rather see someone enjoying themselves dancing than listening to them not giving the whole truth. You know, smoke and mirrors is outrageous in politics.”

Damon Albarn: The Tower of Montevideo (Transgressive/PIAS)
„The Tower of Montevideo”, ein Song inspiriert von einer jener virtuellen Online-Weltreisen, wie wir sie wohl alle im Lockdown angestellt haben.

RR: No one wants to talk about the lockdown anymore, for good reason, because we want to put it behind us. But it is in that record, isn’t it?

Albarn: “But well, It’s not over. Weirdly, I thought I’d [better] finish this, I did it really quickly, actually, because I had a long time to think about, and I had all this amazing rehearsal music, just from mics up with us just playing beautiful atmospheres to keep me in the place. But I recorded it down in Devon. In January and February...”

RR: “So you wrote and rehearsed in Iceland and recorded it in Devon...”

Albarn: “No, I did the writing in between. There weren’t any songs really fully finished in any sense of the word in Iceland. I just decided that I couldn’t wait, you know, I’d lose this wonderful thing that I had because of the escalation of time, if I didn’t. So within this amazing pause that was given to everybody, I wanted to get it done then, and I wanted to put it...”

RR: “So that was with musicians?”

Albarn: “Two, just two musicians: Simon Tong and Mike Smith. The three of us made it in six weeks, maybe less than that. So we’re living in Devon in the cold in the winter by the sea. Duffle coats on, steam in the studio, mittens...”

Damon Albarn: Combustion (Transgressive/PIAS)
„Combustion“ von Damon Albarn, aufgenommen in seinem Landstudio in Devon in der Kälte des letzten Winters im gemeinsamen Lockdown mit Mike Smith und Simon Tong, wie er erzählt hat. Und ja, die Ironie, dass er vorhin gesagt hat, wir sollten nicht auf unsere Telefone starren und mir die Geschichte des Albums mittels der Fotos auf seinem iPad erklärt, die ist zumindest mir schon bewusst. Und zum Abschluss wird’s jetzt so richtig graphisch blutig.

Albarn: “That’s 23rd of March, my birthday in Devon. Nice start to the day. Positive. And that’s the studio.”

RR: “And that’s the same studio as in the Boiler Room session?”

Albarn: “Yeah. But that’s 2020. We went down there then. It’s just under a year later that I’m doing...”

RR: “So Iceland was in 2019?”

Albarn: “Yeah.”

RR: “Ah, so that’s quite a long time in the making. So you did all the new Gorillaz stuff in between?

Albarn: “I did that all down there in Devon, and I left this until we get toooo....”

Er tastet sich auf seinem iPad vor von der idyllischen Landschaft in Devon in Richtung ziemlich schauerlicher Bilder der schwer verletzten, halb abgetrennten, wieder zusammengenähten Kuppe seines rechten Zeigefingers.

RR: “Oh no!”

Albarn: “I stuck my finger on... I’ve done some pesto on Christmas Eve. And I’d done yoga as well. So I was feeling really relaxed. Just have a nice simple little bit of pasta and then have a nice meal in the evening. So I made the fresh pesto, and instead of tasting it from the bowl, I decided to stick my finger in the mixer and then press the button. Anyway, that’s what happened. So that wasn’t a great Christmas.”

RR: “It looks like it’s almost healed now. Is it back to normal?”

Albarn: “Oh, yeah.. I mean, it’s still a bit... But that (deutet auf den oberen Teil seiner Fingerspitze oberhalb der wellenförmigen Naht) came right off, and the bone broke.”

RR: (leidend) “Oh for Christ’s sake. That is an important finger, if you want to play the keyboard.”

Albarn: “Yes, it was important that it came back. And then, so here we go...” (zeigt mehr Horror-Finger-Bilder)

RR: “Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m fainting.”

Albarn: “Then I go back down to Devon. And it’s starting to heal a little bit, but still really not very nice. But it’s nice there. (Findet ärgstes Horror-Finger-Bild überhaupt) Ohohoh! Oaaaah... Anyway.”

RR: “Well, thanks very, very, very much.”

Albarn: “My pleasure.”

Und mit diesen Bildern eines beim Pestomachen fast verstümmelten Zeigefingers im Kopf überlassen Damon und ich euch jetzt dem Rest der Nacht, bis zum nächsten Mal, sagt Robert Rotifer.

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