Reading with Robin

Well, time flies, when you're gounded. Time to catch up - let's use our little wings. So first and foremost we're happy to let you know that our star author on the 'One Two Three Fun Club Initiative', Robin Pineda Gould, has become a youtube sensation while we were busy staying silent. Secondly, you should definitely check out and follow his channel: it's delicious! Thirdly, there are too many written words as it is, so stop reading and start watchting!

SHOCKING NEUKÖLLN NEWS FROM CANADA

Montréal - We just received confirmation that a shockingly good bar is in the making somewhere in the depths of Neukölln. The source is a Mexican fugitive who found shelter in said well-known French ghetto up North. Claiming to go by the name of Johnny Guitar, he promises a hideaway for broken hearts and cowboy baths, a place where a man can still be a man irrespective of whatever sex or gender he might have, a place where drinking is more than a religion. Here we go, see the video behind the news:

Time to kill (or Sitting with kings (having a drink)) from Robin Pineda Gould on Vimeo.

MIX TAPES FOR IDIOTS - THE THIRD

Winter music for idiots. Enjoy and transfer some Christmas money to my paypal account. Ciao.

Mix 3.mp3

CHRISTMAS DANCE & GOOD CAUSES

There's something quite magical and addictive about this song. First it makes you wanna throw snowballs at the Christmas tree or set your grandma on fire while she carves her memories into the crib. Yet soon it soaks in and induces some sort of musicogenic epilepsy. If you follow through with it, you soon find yourself dancing in a tight circle with imaginary friends. It looks a bit like you're strangling a baby goose while holding an emotional speech in front of your deceased anchestors. Although this bastard of a song really knows how to avoid any deeper meaning, it asks to be hit with a hint of interpretation. We do feel that it should be used (or misused) for a greater good. Immediately we thought about a friend of ours who fights the good fight and needs your voice. Perhaps we just discovered the jingle to her mission.

Zoukez - a christmas song - by FL/AM & The Flamingoes from foufou koh on Vimeo.

MIX TAPES FOR IDIOTS - THE SECOND

Our chief executive Tony Abstract proves once more why he is considered the master of abstract timing. We would like to thank To Rococo Rot, Natalie Merchant, Roy Orbinson, Hostage and Silbermond for their contribution to this fantastic mix tape.

Mix 2.mp3

ÉLAN TIMIDE - DIE ZWEITE

It turns out Élan Timide is still the hit. After podcasting "Improvisationsstück" I noticed a frightning enhancement of popularity. With more than 200 listeners and I don't know how many downloads (between 3 and 10 everyday), it proves to be commercially relevant. Here comes another "klasse" Élan Timide song by the name of "Das selbe Lied". Enjoy.

09 das selbe lied.mp3

The Fun Club Song - Love Is Clean

In cooperation with Dr. Love our chief executive Tony Abstract wrote and recorded "The Fun Club Song" aka "Love is Clean". Enjoy.

Love is clean.mp3

1,2,3 Fun Again - Smoker Jesus Rarity

Fun Club Initiative is back on track and feels better than ever. Feel free to terminate boredom and depression with immediate effect, someone is here for you now, someone who sees through your rouged heart of glass just to find hidden treasures in the sherds, someone who loves you for who you really are. His name is chief executive Tony Abstract and today he proves his unconditional love by revealing parts of his until now strictly classified past as a rock musician.

In the early 80s, he was part of the postmodern trio Smoker Jesus. In just a few days they wrote a dozen of perfect songs and produced an LP in a very limited edition. They only made 20 copies with elaborate handmade booklets including a picture of Tony's ass. They kept a few for themselves (so they thought) and gave the rest to close friends. Just recently - when a friend asked for a new copy - they discovered that none of the band members had any left. By now no one really remembers the order in which the songs were presented, but at least they found most of the tunes as mp3s on some old Commodore computers. Tony took the time and mixed some hits together. Sometimes it's just parts of songs and some songs are completely missing, yet it might still help to keep some of the magic alive.

It starts out with the original introduction, then we get a glimpse of "The Sea Is My Land", followed by parts of "Prostitute Song". Next we hear a good part of "Romantic Electrician" and the ingenious "Neighbor Song" that was written and recorded in 20 minutes. Then Tony gives you what was called "Smoker Jesus Hymn", although it probably should be called "Love Is The Devil". Afterwards we hear the original intro to "Paper Bag Song" followed by "Paper Bag Song". Last but not least he gives you the very beginning of "The Fisherman's Tale", a pretty fucked-up song that originally takes 12 minutes of your time,

Smoker Jesus God Damn The Sun.mp3

ÉLAN TIMIDE - LONG FORGOTTEN MUSIC

I just came across one of my favorite bands of the (g)olden days. A bunch of high school friends of mine formed a band called "Élan Timide" that all the teenagers in our small town adored. It turns out they were quite ahead of their time - I still love that shit. Élan Timide that's Peter Rings (vocals), Dr. med. dent. Johannes Albert (guitar), Dr. phil. Johannes Schülein (organ) and Matthias Kalmbach (drums). The piece I bring forward to you is called "Improvisationsstück". Enjoy...

10 improvisationsstück.mp3

No One Loves Music - "Kill" The Mix Tape

Fun Club Initiative now podcasts "mix tapes for idiots" - just a few minutes of joy and fun for the poor and lonely. We don't take any responsibility for what happens after, it's a crude mix of styles that - after going through the Fun Club mixer - is barely bearable. Free you ears sisters & brothers...

Mix-1.mp3

"A harp is like a piano without its clothes on while it's still young and pretty". Baby Dee interviewed by Uwe Schneider

Over breakfast a friend of mine came up with the idea of investing a few thousands in a baby company, taking her eggs and my sperm and a few poor women, later sell the high-class blue-eyed treasures to the highest bidders. Then I got asked by a friend of a friend if I could babysit their daughter tonight. And on my way home huge masses of snow came down the roofs like white and shiny (late) Christmas bombs, I couldn’t help but imagine at least one of them hitting a baby buggy – survival of the luckiest.

These three incidents are somewhat unconnected, I admit. Still - lightheaded as I am they all reminded me (onomatopoetically) of a brilliant musician from Cleveland, Ohio, who has been haunting my daydreams for quite a while now. Baby Dee honored us greatly by answering a few of our questions. I would like to express my gratitude towards Baby Dee and also thank Uwe Schneider for doing all the dirty/journalistic work.

And don’t you think that we will excuse your absence on March 25th (Berghain). It would be plain stupid to miss out on Baby Dee’s Berlin concert and we do not tolerate this sort of self-destructive behavior.

Last but not least I would like to apologize for this introduction, but what else can I say? Just read…

"Your new album "A Book Of Songs For Anne Marie" is sort of a remake of an earlier version that was recorded in a really provisorical way. What lead to your decision to work on these songs again?

I never thought of the first release as the definitive version of those songs. At that time I just knew I didn't have the wherewithal to do them justice so I purposely made the record that went with the book (they were released as a book not a CD) in a kind of slapdash way so when I recorded them I went to a studio and played through the songs once and sent it off without even listening to it.

I thought back then that a song was worth more if somebody else did it. To me that gives a song more of a life of its own -- completely independent and apart from the writer. That was what I was after. It just seemed to me at the time that was a way to leave room for somebody else to take it and make it their own.

I didn't quite get that but I got the next best thing. Maxim Moston offered to arrange them and produce the record. It's still me singing and playing harp and piano though. What can I say? It's not a perfect world.

In most of your songs, there is a strong element of storytelling. This becomes even clearer with this album because of its main character Anne Marie. Imagine a novelist or filmmaker would like to do an interpretation/adaptation of it, how would your work appropriately be translated into film or literature?

It would have to be hugely tragic, wouldn't it? Like one big death scene and the actors would have to look good naked.

Most of your songs are based on harp and piano. Apart from the fact that there is a harp in every piano - what do you think are the most important differences between using the piano or the harp to shape the character of a song? And why is it that you love these two instruments so very much?

A harp is like a piano without its clothes on while it's still young and pretty. I always loved the harp but didn't get to play one as a child so the piano is my mother tongue. All these songs were written at the piano and then completely rewritten to play on the harp. The harp was what I used to carry them out into the world.

I can do a piano tour now and have mostly good pianos to play but back then I had to use the harp. No one knew who I was then and getting a piano can be kind of a big deal. Music, the instruments and the writing is generally a lot more of a practical thing than most of us start out thinking. Probably if good pianos and concert harps weren't so damn big and expensive a lot more people would be playing them and doing tours with them. As it is they're among the most impractical things on earth for a tour to depend on.

I have a tiny concert harp that I keep in England. If times got tough for me and piano shows became unrealistic again I could always go back to schlepping it around on trains.

The "Book of Songs" lacks all the cabaret or even rock elements of your previous album "Safe Inside The Day". In a certain way, it may introduce the newer fans to your more classical style, may this be called "torch song", "balladry" or whatever. Would you regard "Safe Inside The Day" as a singular thing and the "ballads" as your main focus?

I don't know what to call my stuff. I call them dirges but that's a joke. I don't like to call them ballads. The only song I ever wrote that I would think of as a ballad is The Earlie King because it has that feel of the telling of a story with a beginning and an end and something dreadful happens... To me that's what a ballad is. I know in pop music the word ballad has become synonymous with slow or moody or unhappy or something like that. Maybe I'm too attached to that old meaning of the word to embrace it.

But hell. This is my interview and I don't like the word ballad. My songs are not ballads.

Lieder? I'm picturing Schubert having a rant about his work being lumped into a category called Lieder.

Art Song? Too precious but probably the best description. Too bad it's not a form of music that people make.

I don't know. I'm at a loss here. Sorry!

In many of your songs (e.g. "So Bad", "As Morning Holds A Star" and "Lilacs") there is a certain element that reminds of English renaissance music and poetry. Are you interested in that period, or is there no direct influence?

The music of the Renaissance was important to me but I only really loved the Italians and the Spaniards. Palestrina and Morales and Victoria. I admired William Byrd because he wrote well for three voices and I have a serious kink for three voices in counterpoint. I don't know any renaissance poetry. And I would say the influence of English music is non existent in my music. I never studied it and never listened to it.

Lugubrious and dreary Irish American crappy ballads have certainly had an influence as that was the soundtrack of my early youth. So there you go -- Ballads -- But only crappy ones inform my work.

Due to your biography you are sometimes labeled as a transgender artist. In our opinion, however, most of your lyrics deal with love in general, independently from any gender perspective. Would you agree?

I agree wholeheartedly and God bless you for leaving the tired old story of gender dysphoria back in the dust where it belongs.

In recent years, there was a large public interest in somehow folk inspired artists with a certain transgressive or counter cultural element in their style. One of the frequently used terms alongside this hype was "new weird america". As you work and have worked with the likes of Antony, Bonnie Prince Billy or David Tibet - have you ever regarded yourself as a part of something like this, and did this discourse influence the way you have been treated as an artist?

I don't know a single person (including the ones you mentioned) who wouldn't cringe and howl at the thought of being bunched in among the "new weird america" or "freak folk" people. Even the people who the category was made for don't fit it. David Tibet LOATHES folk music and he's considered the godfather of all that neo neo neo folk fuck shit. I love Devendra and let's face it, they pretty much made that box size just to fit him. But even he doesn't belong there. Not in my opinion anyway. He's much to good for that.

The same goes for Joanna Newsom doesn't it. She's much too sophisticated to be genuinely folky.

Vashti Bunyan doesn't fit because she's the real deal isn't she?

Also from my perspective not one of these people even come close to fitting the bill for either weird or freaky. I suppose I have to own up to those but I don't have a folkloric bone in my body.

And no, I don't think it's influenced the way people treat me. Some people can be different and loved for it and some can be different and hated for it. I think I'm kind of in-between -- tolerated. I am tolerated and that's a lot more than I expected. Allowed to make a living -- pretty amazing really. But I don't think I owe that to there being a name somebody made up.

And how fortunate for me to live in such a wonderful world as this where it's really possible to live outside of some bonehead's necessity to classify and make groups.

As if music and the people who make it were a card game for the simple minded like Go Fish. As if one can do this --

MATCH THEM LIKE TO LIKE AND LAY THEIR FACES DOWN IN A DECK OF HUMPIN DOGS

-- and be proud?

To hell with the makers of categories.

It's said that you have already played music in the early seventies. What kind of music was this, and are there any records?

No records. I just improvised a kind of beginningless/endless thing on the harp and spent years writing and playing the same piece on the piano. Believe me you didn't miss much.

Seems that 2010 will be a busy year for you. After your own tour there'll be an album and shows with the band Current 93. What else can we expect from you in the nearer future?

I just finished recording an album at my house in cleveland with Andrew WK producing and members of Mucca Pazza playing. Mucca Pazza is a thirty piece marching band from chicago. They're led by Mark Messing, a composer and arranger and souzaphone player and bassoon player. He's just unbelievably talented. Him and John Steinmeir, a jaw droppingly good percussionist and fellow crazy cow came and we recorded everything live right there in my house on Andrew's Steinway D!

He's going to edit and mix it. It'll come out on Drag City maybe late fall?

Also I'm collaborating with Little Annie. We're going to get together this summer to write and record. We already got a start on that. It's going to be super fun. I adore Little Annie.

Thank you a lot for the interview. As the world's greatest enthusiasts for ballads of all kind, we'll try our hardest now not to mention them any more. So all we can say in the end is - keep your eyes and ears open for the new things to come. And check out Little Annie's lovely music as well.

Baby Dee auf Myspace:
http://www.myspace.com/theonlybabydee
Baby Dee at home in Cleveland:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uWMfyDzACc&feature=related
Clip zu "Dance of Diminishing Posibilities":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRJIbvKy-1g
Live at the Bistrotheque London 2008:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOvbuu_TD78&feature=related"

Eight Things That Matter

REASONS TO READ FUN CLUB ________________________________________________________________

§1
We have reason to believe that superhero Baby Dee might answer a few of our questions. Don't forget to mark March 25th in your calendar - don't you miss Baby Dee's show at the Berghain!

§2
A review of Randy Twigg's masterpiece "Undone" is in the making.

§3
Our review of Houellebecq's and Lévy's "Volksfeinde" ("Ennemis publics") will be continued.

§4
We will soon introduce you to the winner(s) of this this year's 19,99 € Award.

§5
Our HUGE literature award/competition will launch in a few days.

TIME TO GO FUN CLUB ________________________________________________________________

§6
On February 28th we will present the winner(s) of this year's 19,99 € Award in a spectacular show at the HBC. We would like to take a minute and thank our co-operation partner Sunday Extraordinaire.

FRIENDS OF FUN CLUB ________________________________________________________________

§7
Please check out "lobby" at Kino Arsenal, a project by our jury member Martin Beck inter alia. Daily from 11 am to 10 pm or later - February 12th till February 21st.

§8
Please apply here for the air band contest at next week's Sunday Extraordinaire. Don't miss out on 200 €.

Fine tunes, damn hot coffee, psychosexual moods - Adolph Pineland

A few minutes ago FUN CLUB's mailbox almost exploded when Professor Pineland's hail of words finally met their target. Still suffering from the collateral damage the elaborate and intense piece has brought to the Fun Club Burö, we're unable to decide if we should call it an essay, a review, a novel, a manifesto, a provocation of all senses that are still doing their job, a revelation perhaps or once again just a symptom of insanity incorporated in a poem that just got out of hand - won't meet the first and only criteria for poetry: its shortness. However, we are thrilled to publish Professor Pineland's discoveries:

"I would like to present a damn fine song that marked an era and had great influence on many great musicians and groups, such as The Wolfgang Press, Nick Cave, Smoker Jesus, Lydia Lunch, The Knife, ad nauseam. But I must profit from this casual suggestion to tackle some more pressing issues, however uncomfortable they may be. I must start by means of an anecdote steering as clear as possible from dithyrambic wanderings to whatever extent possible, lest this collective journey be made unpleasant. I also want to signal how cool one very particular and unique German artist actually became.

It all happened as I woke up to an unusually chilly morning of -30, somewhat shaken from a caustic dream. I urinated in the pot and it felt good and the sound of the stream hitting the water reminded me of my youth and of the girl with the flaxen hair. After shaking off the last drops that seemed to rid me of my dream I thought of coffee and walked over to the stove. I reflected on my life as I walked by means of manly, heavy steps (although I felt lighter after having relieved myself):

"it is hard to be cutting edge for a long time, yet my blade had not yet rusted or become blunt, yet blunt was my stride."

A little maxim for us revolutionaries of indifference. The coffee was ready. I sipped my damn hot and fine coffee and walked outside. It was summer. Not. It was only summer in my head as I imagined warm furs engulfing me. Summer by furs. So it went on this morning of minus thirty in all its psychosexual glory and it was these very small bursts of thought that brought my dream back to prominent consciousness.

My dream: I had dreamt of a fighter plane that after showering the land with fire collided into a mountain of hamburger meat and bone. The pilot was propelled out of his metallic husk of death-making and lay mangled and battered at a great distance from the once killing machine, near the base of the mountain. This all occurred in an exotic land somewhere between Russia and Germany even though it was most likely all in my head. The pilot was naked yet covered in fat, and as a moderately oversized, furry bunny attempted to sodomize the unconscious soldier, his body (the pilot) burst into many little boys at the moment the bunny's paws spread the ass cheeks hoping to facilitate penetration. It became clear to me as I sipped my damn hot coffee that the man of my dream was non other than Joseph Beuys (for those of you who may have trouble following my lightning fast and ultra sharp wit: boys = Beuys. That was quite obvious a giveaway; such are the workings of the unconscious. But there are other motifs that helped my epiphany).

I realized that I was going to tread dangerous grounds but with my caffeine high and the cold low and the stiff virility of my dream I decided to march along this line of reasoning. Joseph Beuys was a cute little Nazi in the Luftwaffe until he smacked into the ground and was wrapped in fat and fur by a Tartar (to avoid confusion with the popular sauce or some shitty college teams (pre 21st century) that have nothing to do with this anecdote, I will switch to the preferred spelling: Tatar). The Tatars, especially those of the Crimean Khanate (were Beuys smacked into the ground) were known for their prowess in gardening and good looks. If in any doubt, take a look at Charlie Bronson, albeit a Lipka or Polish variation of the fine Tatar clan, which does not affect looks but gardening, which may explain the inconspicuousness of Charlie Bronson's gardening skills. Anyway, the Crimean Tatars were a kind people, yet somewhat naïve, but they also enjoyed engagement in greasy activities such as playing with grease and cheesemaking. In all good will they decided to save this badly mangled pilot and also launch his artistic career, thus killing two birds with one stone. Two things are shown by this incident. Not all Nazis were necessarily rotten to the core and were often complex human beings (albeit all guilty but they have Jesus to answer to for that), and secondly, how could a former killing machine become an art machine? Just as my damn hot coffee scalded my tongue, the shock of the crash and the grease incubation that followed knocked some sense into the fine Joseph Beuys and he left dropping bombs on people for exploding onto the art scene.

After this politically correct and academically sound assessment of this dream and its connections to life, I can move on to presenting the song I had in mind to begin with. Ronald Regan is a character all too often left out of musical adventures, and we have Mr. Beuys to thank for not omitting him from a marvelous song that has inspired and proved most influential to many musicians, and still stands as a landmark of fine music, singability and just plain old killer groovin'."

We Deny Everything But Good Art

It is about time to introduce our "creative tool" Peter Rings, also known as Peter Ringo. Right now he's sitting crossed-legged in the FUN CLUB studio working on a (hopefully) three-dimensional FUN CLUB logo. A few minutes ago he sent us the long expected 19,99 € Award slogan via text message: "We deny everything but good art - the 19,99 € Award." The brilliant slogan was followed by some rather unfriendly mumbling a bit later on the phone, I guess you all know how artists can be since you all consider yourself artists anyway, however, Ringo said that he didn't have the time to design the 19,99 € Award Logo/Flyer around the slogan, so we're now looking for another intern to do the job. Anyone? 1,2,3.

There's no reason to pronounce the first syllable of "weekend" since it in fact just ends. However, we're grateful for the chance to finally officially dislike something, the Fashion Week After Party at Warschauer Str. 34 was just insanely pale and all things considered dispensable. A bunch of dressed-up rowdies from the suburbs prancing around like they haven't been laid for too long and perhaps they played some music there, but I really don't remember. We feasted on the open bar till it closed, then we met friends and discussed  The Mystery Method.

How beautiful in comparison was our Saturday afternoon at the Heroes. We really have to review this unobtrusive gem more thoroughly, since it just always allures us to stay happily ever longer than our tight schedule commands. Perhaps it's the cuisine, aah, one sweet taste parade, on Saturday we went for the "cake rumble", tomorrow we'll attend the Cantine du Jeudi for the first time, this week they offer Lasagna.

The beautiful lamp you see above is designed by French designer, artist and wood master Romain Houssais and to be found at the Heroes.

Oh, it is almost time for our late night photo shoot with Susan, so we have to tell you about the spectacular robot performance at the Sunday Extraordinaire another day.

Puppy Love - Weave At West Germany

Shortly after I had moved to Berlin, one of my musical mentors draged me to the Volksbühne for the first time in history, the band we saw was little beknown to me at the time. As you might have figured yourself or read in one of my biographies, it was not the last time I went to the Volksbühne, much less the last time I found myself bewitched by Animal Collective. By now they are canonized for good, one of the undisputable members of the pantheon, it even seems hard to believe that someone didn't know them once. No matter how disgustingly famous they became, no one ever seemed to consider any passion towards them shameful in any sense, an exceptional status only to be shared by demigods such as Nick Cave, a pair of sharp black leather shoes or German defense-dwarf Philipp Lahm. Now, I don't want to recommend you something you already know, even though I once told a major German literary critic that I just had discovered a promising young talent by the name of Goethe, a little anecdote that still amuses me. However, I wanted to put before you the night that finds you with no expectations, yet overwhelms you with what you've been missing, perhaps without even knowing. It usually never happens to me with concerts, probably because I barely attend them without high expectations.

On wednesday night I found myself at ever beloved West Germany, worn down and high-strung, in a difficult mood to say the least. Weave immediately struck me as beautiful, I in fact I liked their tiny little concert so much that I'm still too chicken-hearted to listen to their tunes again online. I will leave my childish crush with you, join or attack my Weave movement, but be aware that there are things in life much greater than your daydreams. Many thoughts there are that I developed during the concert, thoughts that have been haunting my little existence ever since then, but today I will spare you my violent and pathetic spear. Love is a weapon or a cross, will you handle it with care...

Remarks And Remarkable Events

At times you find a dog in your apartment, small and black, another piece of coal on four legs or three if the dog has been unlucky, he yells at you like bad dogs do for you've never met before, one should never circumscribe simple things, still I hate the work "barking" too much. There is always a rational explanation, but who really cares how the dog got in. I said "we" once too often, at the end of each day it is I who falls asleep, even without my awareness. And each morning it is I who opens the gates of the Fun Club Burö and I who writes these things, so Susan and Ronny and Murphy and whoever the fuck is feasting at my table can be proud of what "we" did. Not tonight. On a Sunday like this there ain't no space for generous gestures and this is why I brought before you as a gift the very story of the dog. Is he still in the kitchen eating my bones, yes I do sure think so.

Once again I spent my afternoon at HBC's Sunday Extraordinaire, an emerging tradition, a ritual perhaps and an obsession for those who need to crown the climax. I don't like it, but I am one of those, a drive-by confession, yet not an indictement to go, leave it where it belongs. Sunday Extraordinaire deserves better than the pictures I took, there were more sellers than in the weeks before, ever more colorful and inspiring, yet I was still drawn to the corners in which no breath was to be felt. My everyman's Sunday fever, stick your ostrich beak into the mud, but be greatful for all the pretty faces that smile around like they share a secret that you couldn't handle. Hell no, I'm not depressed, I'm just sensitively responding to the calendar, which for a hard boy like me is a virtue according to my encyclopedia of male role models.

I talked to Dr. Uwe Schneider for a quite a while there, he works as consultant for Fun Club in the field of Bermuda Triangle music, everything strained between hippie, gothic and violent noise. He's also an expert on Austrian literature, well-known for his Derrida inspired interpretation of Thomas Bernhard who by the way really shares my deep love for the theater. We exchanged opinions on money-making, Unica Zürn's drawings as well as on the band of the same name, last but not least, how could it be different, on Fun Club's 19,99 € Award. It struck me as a shock that Dr. Uwe Schneider saw elements of parody in my presentation of the 19,99 € Award. I hereby declare that the award in question is nothing less than a parody. If I hadn't spent most of my fortune on liquor and good causes such as the prevention of earthquakes in already poor countries, I would definitely offer more than 19,99 €, unfortunately 20 is all I have left. If it makes our call for submissions seem less cynical, I can change the name to 20 € Award. I will prove my pure intentions within the next days by presenting an impressive international jury.

Now that Sunday is almost over, things appear in a different light, so I let my mind travel to the Sunday to come. Extraordinaire like all my Sundays in 2010, this goes without saying, still special I'm convinced. According to Fleur Helluin, who hosts the weekly freak flea market, actual robots are to be expected on stage. Oh and I do love robots, but who doesn't. Unfortunately I got distracted by the beautiful dark green dress she wore, so this is all the intelligence I gathered, but I'm sure I will see you next Sunday. If you need more intel on the upcoming robotic outburst, I'll update you on Friday at the Maria where Tilt! Party is going down starring Jennifer Cardini.

Before I rest my weary bones, I would like to ask you for a favor. Please take a minute and send an email to Sunday Extraordinaire's hostess using "Pro Fun Club" as the subject. We briefly discussed the possibility of holding the 19,99 € Award Ceremony at Sunday Extraordinaire and I would like to see her that Fun Club has a strong basis eager to push it to the max.

Nuclear Sweat - Plateau Repas

Last night we sent our intern Ronny to the Schwuz (Berlin, Germany) to shoot us some maidens from hell. As you can see he is quite new in the business. The footage he retrieved is so raw that we don't want to embarrass ourselves by even trying to polish it. Ronny claims that the material he recovered is somewhat representative for the eruption of loins he experienced. We whipped him hard, but he couldn't care less, repeatedly exclaimed in delight that he finally had an idea of how it must feel to fuck your favorite book up the wall, feeling the thrill of its back being smirched with cheap ink, while the phone number someone had left on the very same wall fades away with increasing pleasure.

Ronny is a crazy cat, no doubt about that, however, we cannot help ourselves but believe that Plateau Repas once again set new patterns for whatever the hell it is they're doing to us. We hear that they introduced a new song, supposedly a song of crisis, in the most honest, yet optimistic sense. We will try to find out more and keep you posted.

Thoughts On Houses - Robin Pineda Gould

TA: Mr. Pineda Gould, amongst many other things you have been labeled "avantgarde musician", "singer-songwriter", "movie director", "writer", "poet", "philosopher king", "religious leader" and "insane"? Despite the fact that some of these labels imply a bit of irony, which one of them feels like home to you?

RPG: I feel compelled to state that fist and foremost, a house is not (always) a home, but in all these constructions, or so called labels, a certain house has been constructed for those of us Dyonisians trapped in the nomadic path of creative dementia praecox. At many times I feel the necessity to find the hearth of this structure, load it with the dry, sensual wood of creation, and illuminate that very hearth and its surrounding construction in the flames of the tortured muses that at times are chained to me. I can make my home in any label, and I find the "singer-songwriter" in particular quite piquant.

TA: Now that we addressed the matter of different houses within the landscape of art, thought and religion, what is it exactly that makes them false fronts in a way? In regards to art, thought and religion as houses themselves, I might add the question if they are at least somehow stable and if yes in what sense?

RPG: They are false fronts to the extent that art is a false front. The word false itself has a pejorative connotation, but that is not the case here. It is an asset. Most artists have trouble being labeled, when this is the best thing in the world. If someone says to me: you are a singer-songwriter , I readily reply: yes. And so on. There is nothing more stable than the emptiness of words made solid in the instance of the utterance. Religion is a stable house, but not a stable home. And so it goes. Art is nothing but embracing the falsity of things, but that very good, beautiful falsity that needs at least two people to become. That is why many artists are quasi-pschizophrenics (another great label by the way).

TA: Love has always been a main theme within your work as well as in your life. Set aside the boring fact that I could say similar things to most other artists, I would like to ask how your (now not anymore so) private love life manifests in your work? Perhaps there is a certain development that occurred in both "realms" simultaneously? Asking this I do not necessarily assume that a woman guided/guides your ways through the creative process, it might just be as well the other way 'round.

RPG: Love is so prominent, because as you so well put it, I am often intoxicated by this phenomena. I am somewhat hungry at this point, so talking of love becomes complicated. So capricious is love. But for the past year I have been submerged in the glorious nasality of French; a serious trickster when it comes to love. In the baroque excess of the French language, many men fall captive, and cannot avoid becoming lost on the jagged rocks around our modern day Sirenum scopuli. Like Odysseus, we must find the wax to put in the ears of our friends and the ropes to tie ourselves to the phallic mast of love, and let the siren rape us. Is love an intoxication? It is indeed. Is it worth dying for? We do it every night. Birdwomen of the world, do not launch yourselves into the water just yet, as we must all sail by again. Did Jesus know what to do with love? No, he never wrote a song.

TA: You are half Mexican, half American, have strong bindings to the German artistic scene and now you're living in Montréal, Canada, where you share an apartment with two French twins. I hope you don't mind me asking if what other magazine's labeled your "inspiring neverending identity crisis" can be traced back to such simple facts of life? (I might add that Deleuze once said in regards to Kafka that the devil is the duplication itself.)

RPG: Simplicity would require finding a home. But this is more the case of a house. Yes, it is this simple. If that is what he (Deleuze) said of Kafka imagine what he would say of Wittgenstein. Symptomatology can be very poetic indeed, and satisfactory. But as we probe further we realize that the causes themselves break down into ever more complex elements. The fact that my father has origins traceable to Tangiers and the Ivory coast and my mothers Austrian heritage become significant with further probing. Whichever house you choose.

TA: Now that we addressed your girlfriend Séverine Lombardo and her twin sister Élodie Lombardo as entities first, I would like to dive back into real life. You're working on a dancing performance together with Séverine and Élodie right now, can you tell us a little more about that?

RPG: The name of the piece is Petites Pièces de Poche, choreographed and conceived by Séverine Lombardo. I like to call it by its anglophone eponymous name: little pocket pieces. I am collaborating with another musician in this work. Speaking for myself and what this work means to me I would say that my part is understanding the dynamic impetus in someone else's brilliant vision, and try to find a way to make the work live and come into being through its aural counterpoint. More than anything, it is a test and testament to my capacity to rid my work of all masturbatory elements (something that has been both criticized and celebrated in some of my work); it represents the creation of art that is functional in feeding and improving upon another individual's work. These are the serious moments in life, when what you do as a compulsion becomes organized and must submit/interact with the wills of others. That is the "work" aspect of it, what makes it exist in the world, where some money can come from these actions. I don't believe this is necessarily a good thing, but it definitely is pleasurable and leaving philosophical beliefs aside it is something I will defend. Especially when the work in question is so significant. The work plunges the audience into pitch black, where spasms of light, movement and music will overtake their sensory experience. It is a work of fragments and delicate abstraction, something that moves beyond trends and fads of any kind. From out of the darkness we reach out and assault, to fade back into the darkness once again and recommence the assail from another side. Highly recommended, if I may say so myself.

TA: Mr. Pineda Gould, thank you very much for this interview, it was a pleasure tasting some of your thoughts. Now as a last request, I would like to ask you for your retrospective on the year 2010. What will have been the most important things that you did and did not do in 2010?

RPG: Being that everything is what it is, there are no important actions. Once we attack that belief we realize that things are both important and not important at the same time, and to different degrees. The rhizome comes into being. In 2010, there will be much excitement. All acts of artistic creation are not important, albeit necessary (paradox included). Things to be considered truly important. Important: being a good man involving my family and friends and maybe even strangers. Detrimental: not learning German. Improving my French will be very important as well. Making music, film and poetry; those are only gifts.

Love is a Weapon, by Robin Pineda Gould from Robin Pineda Gould on Vimeo.

See It Coming

I hereby proudly announce that I had the honnor to chit-chat with heavy-weight thinker and musician Robin Pineda Gould from Montréal, Canada. The interview is being transcribed from Yiddish to English by my secretary Susan as we speak.

As you're waiting fraught with the Prussian clickclack of Susan's typewriter, another nugget hits your attention. Plateau Repas's foufou koh recommends an air band contest at Sunday Extraordinaire:

teaser air band contest from foufou koh on Vimeo.

Anfang Jänner/Jenner

For oh so many years now, I've been asked to share my thoughts 'n' vibes in a blog. "Tony", my fans and friends would say, "you know so much about women and life and girls, weapons and religion, not to speak about society and politics, why don't you enlighten our humbled ways through this darkness that lays upon us like a rock too old to roll?" Well, I just never felt ready for that quest. Having a blog is different from most other ways of life, the ones you just indulge in for a while till something better comes up and those that you're doing on the side of whatever else you're up to. A blog is more than this, it's a choice, a promise to yourself, a secularized, yet still holy vow. You do it or you don't, there's no running away after you accepted the terms and conditions. So for me it always felt like asking the two-legged prostitute that you just paid in some darken corner with quite a slice of next month's salary if she wanted to conceive a redheaded child. Well, I have to admit that I've never seen a prostitute, which is a lie to the extent of the ambiguity of my statement, of course I've seen many prostitutes in my day, even talked to some, I just never consumed a prostitute in the orthodox manner. I might add that on my imaginary list of lower creatures that I always have at hand in case the world stops turning and the Infant asks me to carry out some justice for him by means of brutality and torture that he officially cannot agree with due to his general demand of love, the John as such is a high-ranking victim. I can spare you details since I believe that most people have had worse torture fantasies than me, yet are still pretty thin-skinned and anxious once they see them moving in waters that are not their own cerebrospinal fluids. In case you would like to hear more about my prostitute-opinions, you should familiarize yourself with the song "I won't sing a song with prostitues in it" that I recorded with my first band Smoker Jesus. The song is a playful, yet pretty sincere objection to the songs "Prostitute I" and "Prostitute II" by the otherwise much valued Wolfgang Press. Now that I think about it, I should perhaps fulfill my duties as a blogger and post a Wolfgang Press video below, there are just too many good people that are not acquainted with this climax of tune & character.