My first exposure to the eclectic music of Hans-Joachim Roedelius was back in early 1997--my girlfriend (now my wife) and I lay back in my room at my father's house listening to "Sehr Kosmich" on the debut Harmonia album Musik von Harmonia. I didn't know it at the time, but these drifting, primordial sounds would eventually lead to many years of delighted exploration into the (at the time trendy) 1970s German electronic music scene. I've since collected a large number of CD reissues of this apocryphal material, much of which influenced today's ambient and electronic musicians. One artist stands above all the others for me, coincidentally part of the group who introduced me to this wonderfully obscure genre in the first place: Hans-Joachim Roedelius. It is thus with great pleasure that I am given the chance to review Painting with Sound: The Life and Music of Hans-Joachim Roedelius, an exhaustive guide to a singularly inspiring and fascinating figure in modern music.
It was no easy task for a book of this nature to be produced. The author, Stephen Iliffe, created his own publishing imprint called Meridian Music Guides just to put the book out. But this is no hastily photocopied screed; Iliffe has done everything right with the production of Painting with Sound, which is embellished with rare photos on every page, and benefits from beautifully designed layout and professional editing. Most importantly, it is thoughtful and well written.
Iliffe writes in a clear and intelligent style, beginning with Roedelius's beginnings as a child actor, through the tumultuous period of World War II and the Cold War where the musician found himself conscripted into the Volkspolizei. Roedelius was quick to desert, but was incarcerated, and forced to work in a coal mine by the corrupt regime. His early years make the average teen angst experiences most people know pale by comparison--Roedelius has seen his share of the unfortunate aftermath of war, and this very experience proved to influence the directions he would take in his own future musical endeavors. It wasn't long before Roedelius gravitated to the burgeoning avant-garde activities of his countrymen, and soon fraternized with such figures as Conrad Schnitzler (not to mention brushes with members of the Red Army Faction). This portion of Roedelius's life is particularly fascinating as we are given a glimpse into an infrequently reported time of flowering avant-garde creation at the Zodiak Free Arts Lab. It isn't long before Schnitzler and Roedelius hook up with then steak chef Dieter Moebius, and the rest is Kosmiche history.
Here the biography turns away from the historical experiences of Roedelius, and begins to focus on his disparate musical productions, first as a member of the iconoclastic (though prescient to future-musics) Kluster, then (after the equally iconoclastic Schnitzler chose to pursue his own muses) the more commonly known Cluster. Iliffe describes each ensuing album in minute detail as it is created during the book’s timeline, offering possible influences and reverberations tinged with anecdotes culled from other musicians and Roedelius himself. Eventually, the focus strays from the politically-steeped ruminations of Kluster/Cluster’s earlier albums, and more into the creative processes and inspirations of both artists as they find their own ways through their music. Each man was inspired by his environs, and for a period both worked in something of an artistic Eden when the duo deserted the large cities of Germany in favor of the idyllic, commune-like village of Forst. Here, both men created their most memorable work as Cluster, not to mention excellent collaborations with Michael Rother and Brian Eno (who also contributes a thoughtful forward). I was swept away by the pure existence both Roedelius and Moebius seemed to have known--living simply, though close to poverty, and creating art in a pastoral world free from the tumultuous mid-twentieth century milieu. This fertile period inevitably lead to Roedelius’s solo career, and the gradual dissolution of Cluster.
It seems that Roedelius, by dissolving Cluster, experienced something of a renaissance as he shed the chains of Kosmiche in favor of his own musical directions. Each resulting solo recording (and there are a staggering number, as evidenced by the record guide at the end of the book) represents a further sharpening of Roedelius’s focus and attention to unbridled creation, regardless of current artistic trends. Iliffe brings us through Roedelius’s career from the late-seventies to the present, focusing less on Roedelius the man, and more upon the works he continually created. It may be posited that at this point in Roedelius’s career it is easier to learn about the man through his music than by any anecdotal contribution from Roedelius himself. Still, this narrowing of content made me wonder about certain aspects of Roedelius’s life that seemed glossed over; his eventual distance from Moebius, for example.
To some degree, it seems Iliffe is overwhelmed by Roedelius’s output--in his zealous attempt to write about each release, he gradually subtracts Roedelius from the equation altogether, merely describing the music. Regardless, Iliffe’s writing about the music is very well done (in fact, a highlight of the book), as he dances through each album with his own experiences with, and takes on, the various releases. He’s also no wide-eyed Roedelius fanatic--he is equally likely to display everything he doesn’t like about a release as he is to give rave reviews. The record guide in the back of the book is a godsend for Roedelius collectors, as an exhaustive commentary on the various CD releases (though the Harmonia ’76 “Tracks and Traces” disc--a favorite of mine--is strangely absent). If anything, Iliffe seems a bit too uncharitable (at least regarding some of my favorites) in his reviews, but the wise reader will gauge Iliffe’s opinions with his or her own and make their own judgments. Iliffe has a tendency to lapse into what I humorously refer to as “Wire-isms,” where his criticisms are less grounded in utilitarian reality and more focused on artistic showboating, as in his introduction where his metaphors unnecessarily obscure his intellectual points. Certainly, judging by the success of magazines like The Wire, and the newer E/I, there is an audience for this sort of thing--but I am not it. At any rate, these lapses are infrequent beyond the introduction, making the rest of the book a fine music “documentary,” written clearly with the reader in mind.
Here is the power of Painting with Sound--above all it does exactly what a good music book should do: it makes the reader want to go out and buy some Roedelius CDs. I can recommend Iliffe’s lovingly produced book without hesitation, not only to the most die-hard Krautrock fans, but also to those interested in reading about a seldom documented period in modern music. Roedelius is an icon of artistic achievement, continually moving forward, constantly pushing his own boundaries, and is, above this, an inspiration to all who read about his fascinating life and work. I applaud Iliffe’s efforts in bringing this book to fruition. He has avoided sycophantic pitfalls in bringing the first truly critical Roedelius biography to the public bookshelf. This level of scholarly and passionate writing only serves to increase the reader’s opinion of Iliffe: he’s a good writer with good taste in music--always a positive combination for this reviewer. Painting with Sound gets my highest recommendation; it’s a labor of love that manages to instill the reader with a similar love of the subject matter. Fantastic!
Published by Meridian Music Guides.