text: marc jauss
picture: beau devereaux

Working one’s way through the outsider label Golden Cloud Tapes is to sometimes find oneself in a seemingly endless corridor, sometimes in a cathedral of sound.

Italian filmmaker Dario Argento once said, “Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back.” Golden Cloud Tapes, the label from Madison, Wisconsin, comes off as equally present and versatile. The imprint was launched in 2010 with Secret Parking Lot, the enigmatic debut from Samantha Glass. Behind the pseudonym is the skateboarder and self-confessed Rihanna fan Beau Devereaux, who on the one hand runs the label and on the other, as an artist, wears many skins: as Anvil Dome, Victor Portsmouth, Roan Linden, and even Samantha Glass, he produces mystical sound landscapes. Glass’ milestone albums Mysteries from the Palomino Skyliner and Surface Water Perception have even been released on the labels Not Not Fun Records and Sacred Phrases, respectively. Devereaux repeatedly brings the listener into a trance-like state—the conscious world loses focus and they suddenly find themselves in an endless corridor of beguiling echoes and distorted guitars. Should they suddenly regain awareness, they’ll soon be released from Devereaux’s voice, penetrating as if through a thick fog. This apocalyptic trip is just one of many positions found in the universe around Golden Cloud Tapes.

Take, for example, the 2014 album The Vitrine of Blindness from Robert Anthony alias Sleep Museum. For over ten years, this Brooklyn-born musician has produced dark and mostly rhythmic synthesizer noise that bore deep into listeners’ ear canals. Anthony sees his work as building musical cathedrals: filtered arpeggios, dusty pads, and raw bass lines dance like bats around one’s face. While wandering astray here, primed for adventure but in search of the exit, the listener nears the album’s end and finds the illuminating title: “We Are Here.” A ghostly voice wants to tell us that we’ve arrived.

It’s uncertain what skins Devereaux and Golden Cloud Tapes will slip into in the future. What is certain is that future releases will continue to surprise.

Text: Marc Jauss
Originally isued in zweikommasieben magazine #16

Since the early 80s, there has been a distinguished experimental and DIY scene in Milan. The Black Sweat Records label, which was created in 2012 by Davide Domenichini, a.k.a. Dome, can be understood as a continuation of that tradition. Besides publishing outstanding re-issues of local and international line-ups, the label is bringing out new artists. The influence of their mentors—the Italian pioneers of that era—is loud and clear.

The Italian Futuro Antico project was one of those pioneering efforts of the early 80s which always appeared to be oriented towards the future and experimentation. Futuro Antico members Walter Maioli and Riccardo Sinigaglia enraptured audiences over and over again in hypnotic sessions with meditative drones and discreet rhythmic structures. Contemplative and in love with detail, the duo combined Indian and African influences to create a shimmering sound carpet. The albums Futuro Antico (1980) and Dai Primitivi All’ Elettronica (1990), both recently re-released by Black Sweat Records, bear witness to this.

Sound tinkerer David Erden is a thrilling counterpoint to the Black Sweat Records catalog: The Belgian has been active for some time now as DSR Lines, and runs his own cassette label, Hare Akedod, which specializes in electroacoustic and improvised sounds. His recently released album from Black Sweat, Spoel (2017), was originally published as a tape and is now being newly released as double LP including three unreleased tracks. Softly modulated analog sounds stream over playful collages of echoes and frequency modulations that catapult the listener into unknown spheres.

Back on earth again—now in the middle of Texas in the late 70s—we meet the composer and performer JD Emmanuel. Inspired by Terry Riley and the early work of Peter Michael Hamel, Emmanuel captivates with energetic and free synthesizer and organ tones. His early experiments with analog New Age sounds are brought together in an elaborately designed vinyl edition called Electronic Minimal Music, which Black Sweat released in 2016. The self-proclaimed Time Traveler is still active today, and continues his travels in meditative and metaphysical realms. Those who are enthusiastic about time travel and other experiments will find unknown treasures in the Black Sweat Records catalog—in this world and beyond.

Electronic Minimal Music by J.D. Emmanuel

Experimente aus Mailand: Black Sweat Records

Schon seit den frühen Achtzigern findet sich in Mailand eine ausgezeichnete Experimental- und DIY-Szene. Das Label Black Sweat Records, das von Davide Domenichini alias Dome 2012 ins Leben gerufen wurde, kann als Fortsetzung jener Tradition verstanden werden. Neben hervorragenden Re-Issues mit lokalem und internationalem Line-up bringt das Label auch neue Künstler ans Tageslicht. Die Einflüsse ihrer Mentorinnen – den italienischen Pionieren von damals – sind dabei unüberhörbar.

Zu den Pionieren aus den frühen Achtzigern zählt das italienische Projekt Futuro Antico, das sich stets zukunftsorientiert und wunderbar experimentierfreudig zeigte. In hypnotischen Sessions aus meditativen Drones und dezenten Rhythmus-Strukturen verzückten die Mitglieder Walter Maioli und Riccardo Sinigaglia immer wieder aufs Neue. Besinnlich und detailverliebt verband das Duo indische und afrikanische Einflüsse zu einem schimmernden Soundteppich. Die Alben Futuro Antico (1980) und Dai Primitivi All’ Elettronica (1990), beide jüngst bei Black Sweat Records erneut erschienen, zeugen davon.

Der Soundtüftler David Erden ist ein spannender Gegenpol im Katalog von Black Sweat Records: Der Belgier ist seit einiger Zeit als DSR Lines aktiv und betreibt ein eigenes Kassetten-Label namens Hare Akedod, das sich auf elektroakustische und improvisierte Klänge spezialisiert hat. Sein kürzlich auf Black Sweat erschienenes Album Spoel (2017) wurde ursprünglich als Tape publiziert und erhält nun eine Doppelvinyl-Neuauflage mit drei unveröffentlichten Stücken. Sanft modulierte analoge Sounds strömen über verspielte Collagen aus Echos und Frequenzmodulationen, die einen in unbekannte Sphären katapultieren.

Wieder auf der Erde zurück begegnet man – nun mitten im amerikanischen Texas der späten siebziger Jahre – dem Komponisten und Performer JD Emmanuel. Inspiriert von Terry Riley und Peter Michael Hamels frühen Werken besticht Emmanuel mit freien und energetischen Synthesizer- und Orgelklängen. Auf einer aufwändig gestalteten Vinyl-Edition namens Electronic Minimal Music, die 2016 bei Black Sweat erschien, versammeln sich seine frühen Experimente mit analogen New Age-Sounds. Der selbsternannte Time Traveller ist auch heute noch aktiv und setzt seine Reisen in metaphysischen und meditativen Gefilden unbeirrt fort. Wer sich also für Zeitreisen und/oder andere Experimente begeistern kann, der findet im Katalog von Black Sweat Records unbekannte Schätze – im Dies- und Jenseits.

Text: Ashley Simpson

electronic artist and frequent panda bear collaborator scott mou is the first person to admit that his debut album end times, released under the moniker queens a few weeks ago, isn’t quite what people expect. “when dial records asked me to do it, i was really shocked and very humbled—and i thought the label would expect something different—more techno, more house, more classic minimalist,” recalls mou. what he gave them was of another mood entirely. delicate, quietly expansive and, in mou’s own words, “excruciatingly intimate-sounding,” end times takes the listener into a quiet, closely introspective space. it was recorded in two parts—first with animal collective’s josh dibb at the good house upstate and later in berlin with dial’s phillip sollmann—and came out of a desire for a solitary and raw experience. “the story of the album goes all the way back to the early 2000’s,” says mou, who has also designed runway soundtracks for labels as diverse as thom browne, zero + maria cornejo, cloak, robert geller, doo.ri, and patrik ervell. “i was doing beat production on a project with noah lennox from panda bear and djing a lot, and even though i was a more techno guy, i wanted to do something— i needed to do something—that was in a different space. so i reached for the guitar. ”several years later, end times is here, with plenty of jandek/early-techno influences and gauzy, melancholic moments. mou will play parts of the album this summer in berlin and hamburg, before heading off to paris for the men’s shows."

Text: Marc Jauss
Issued in Zweikommasieben #15

Entire volumes could be written about the output of the label Vinyl on Demand. The roughly 150 re-releases of obscure, long-forgotten material—mostly located somewhere between experimental, minimal, and early-80s noise—each has its own story. Here a mere two of our favorites briefly are introduced.
 

Many of the albums reissued by Vinyl on Demand were originally the fruit of a flourishing 1980s cassette tape scene whose members preferred to control and oversee every step of the production and distribution process themselves—why sign to a major label when there’s an alternative, homemade approach? This often meant very limited editions, which accounts for the now-exorbitant prices of the original cassettes.

Frank Maier, an obsessive collector from Friedrichshafen, near Lake Constance, recognized this problem and took matters into his own hands in 2003 with his label Vinyl on Demand, through which he filters a both impulsively and meticulously selected output of music that until now has only been available to a very small audience. Maier has released reissues, collector’s editions, t-shirts, posters, and much more on an almost monthly basis since the early days of his label. It’s easy to lose an overview, so we’ve taken it upon ourselves to single out two essential pearls of the catalog.

The Arms of Someone New’s Tape Recordings 1983 – 1985 focuses primarily on three releases: Significant Others, Occam’s Razor, and Notes From Underground, all of which wonderfully demonstrate the band’s magnetic tendency towards experimentation. The collection of short sound sketches hovers between post-punk and sparse dream pop. The three releases sketch a two-year trajectory over the course of which band members Mel Eberle and Steve Jones developed and sharpened an idiosyncratic style.

The compositions by Don Slepian, an oddball computer programmer from Hawaii, take a very different turn. In 1972, Slepian explored the so-called Arpanet, a predecessor of today’s internet, and reflected—via sound—what he discovered there. His first tape, Electronic Music From The Rainbow Island, is considered by insiders’ circles to be a milestone of the free New Age scene. As such, like many other Slepian releases, it’s long since out of print, but Vinyl on Demand’s Tape Recordings 1971-1982 delivers the remedy. The compilation includes some of Slepian’s boldest compositions, in which baroque synthesizer melodies meet algorithmic bass funk to form intricate cosmic fractals. Also not to miss is the accompanying breathtaking gallery on the label’s website.  
These and many more releases are available through Vinyl on Demand—online and IRL.

There is this wonderful blind electronic music composer named Pauline Anna Strom about whom I was preparing a piece for my blog recently. Doing a little research online I stumbled across a photo of my friend Hannes Grassegger, a noted swiss business journalist and net theorist – a serious cat really, but also a music lover – holding up Strom’s extremely rare record Trans-Millenia Consort. I was stunned and wondering about the story behind that image. So I reached out for Hannes and it turned out to be one of these really intimate emotional stories which oftentimes stand behind those records we love the most. Enjoy!
 

Trans-Millenia Consort

I usually keep the story of this LP, how I came across it, and what it means to me to myself, although people usually ask me about that record, how I found it etc. when I play it, just because it’s such an amazing album. I think a genuinely good record is somehow always the story of a relationship; "me and my beloved record." In the case of Pauline Anna Strom, though, I usually try to distract inquirers with stories of much rarer records or irritate them with fascinating facts about this unique synth fanatic who was blind but clairvoyant. So clearly could she see the coming of the New Age. Through her music Strom really makes me experience that first wave of Silicon Valley euphoria, the technological optimism and strange longing for the creation of a “spiritual machine” during the early 1980s in the Californian desert. Her small, opaline melodies feel as good as blowing on dandelion seed heads does to a two-year-old and they are accompanied by New Age textures reminiscent of beautiful sprawling landscapes over which those dandelions florets float, underlaid with gingerly flickering beats that wouldn’t be officially "invented" until fifteen years later, when they were called "breakbeats" or "drum&bass."

My decision not to talk about Pauline Anna Strom's Trans-Millenia Consort is a result of the fact that the album has become for me exactly that which a vinyl record can but a file cannot be: a carrier of personal memories. Files save data; records save feelings. I have no idea why that is—in essence, both media were developed to save data. I’m also not esoteric; the word ‘analog’ doesn’t hold a particularly special place in my heart. I'll put it like this: just as the pops and crackling noises of a record actually do bother me, so are the stored memories that attach themselves to my records not always only positive—the potential there for emotional storage shouldn’t be glorified. Some albums represent bad times, and sometimes you don’t want any of those memories to be saved and associated with your records. But selective forgetting doesn’t work. This particular album is steeped with the memories of both a hard blow and of one of the biggest highlights of my life. I love the record because of this, but also abhor it and can’t always listen to it.

The story is about love, about two women: my current wife and the woman before her. The latter I'd already met when she was 15. I was 25. She was the best friend of the little sister of a girl I’d had a fling with as a teenager. That's how I eventually met her. The little sister, who I’d still remembered as a screeching, clumsy, baby-toothed kid, called me one day out of the blue on Skype and asked if we could get together for drinks.

To my surprise that little sister had turned sixteen, had found me online, and had gotten the idea to call me out of nowhere. At the time, I didn’t have anything better to do than to hang out with a 16-year-old. I was intrigued and curious, so I met her in a bar. She’d turned into a delectable, babbling, giggling blonde girl who reacted to everything I said with “cool” or “super cool." Then, her best friend (BF) entered the room. We’ll call her Bifi. She was, more or less, the most irresistible girl I’d ever seen in my life.

She was a former ballerina with gorgeous dark brown hair, milk-white skin, a high, round forehead, and eyes like—hmm—Teletubbies. She came in and swore, in a bell-like voice, about something that had just happened to her. I was totally disoriented. I was standing there in a bar, in my mid-twenties and with nebulous self-awareness at best, a crisis on two legs, between two enchanting, much-too-young ladies who both idolized me—and who knows for what.

At the end of the evening, Bifi lay next to me in the bed of her best friend's mother and wanted to have sex. I wasn’t, however, YOLO enough. In any case, I’d given Bifi, who lived several hours away from me, my contact, and for years she reached out for me occasionally. We indulged in longe phone calls and mails going back and forth. In one of those conversations, she mentioned she liked MGMT. “A horrible band,” I said. I started dreaming what a perfect woman she might be with some good taste in music, and the idea of this dream woman excited me. I began to send her mixes and she reacted enthusiastically. I tried to convince myself that I was something like an older brother to her. Soon she began to send mixes back, and they got better and better. She also visited me once or twice. I controlled myself. Very much. 

Bifi became interested in photography and she tested out her tease pics on me. Her taste in music got better and better. Shortly before graduating from high school, she wrote me a love letter in which she said she’d soon be free and no longer a minor. I began to think how it might be to be with her. When Bifi was almost twenty, she moved to a bigger city for an internship or something (I forgot to mention earlier that she’d lived in the countryside). Her tapes and YouTube links were increasingly impressive. I found out she’d gotten together with an experimental DJ about 10 years older than me. She had tried to keep that information from me, but when I learned I was actually somewhat relieved. She collected affairs with older men, I thought, and forgot about her—until I began to think about her again. One time I sent her Woo.

Then, two years later, in December 2011, she was suddenly standing in front of my door. Long story short, I had the feeling that my secret dream had suddenly become a reality—that the past years suddenly all made sense and that I should say yes, goddamn it, to the happiness, the sparkling Bambi eyes, the dancers body that was throwing itself at me. She was gorgeous, had extraordinary taste in music, and was devoting herself passionately to what she studied now. I couldn’t really believe it all—it was as if I had cultivated my own dream. Sometimes it felt creepy. I had to wipe away those Frankenstein thoughts.

She showed me amazing minimal wave stuff I’d never heard of. I learned that there was this amazing 1980s electro fusion scene in Japan. This group named Mariah. We got together. I’d never had a girlfriend who’d brought so much good music into my life. Here’s one of her playlists, copied from an email:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!
THE FOLLOWING TRACKS ARE ON MY ALPINE/SKI LIFT/PANORAMA
PLAYLIST

Xingu - Zenamon
Shirt No.7 - Durutti Column
Yodel 1, 2, Pauls Dance, Air Dancer - Penguin Cafe Orchestra
Charotte - Ernest Hembersin
Managua - Finis Africae
Are you Awake- Kevin Shields
Brass Pocket- Pretenders

WINTAUGE (do you think this is for real?)
http://cdreissuewishlist.blogspot.com/2012/02/wintauge-germany.html

THESE SAMPLES ARE ALL GOOD:
http://musk31as.blogspot.com/

I bought an old Thorens record player and carried it to her room as a sign that I was serious with her. At the same time, things began to click in my career.
I was in my early thirties and had a record-collecting perfect girlfriend and a dream job. One day she showed me Pauline Anna Strom. I think she'd had it as an untitled file from somewhere or other. Give it a listen
— it’s called Emerald Pool. That’s how my life felt then. 

I absolutely needed to have it on vinyl. I wanted to preserve those feelings. A hard disk felt far too impermanent for my love. 

I don’t think at the time the album had even been entered on Discogs yet. I employed absolutely everything I had in the way of research powers, and found both the artist name and the album. Like Google entry #217. Someone with the pseudonym Jagat Rainbow had left an email address on an obscure esoteric forum and written that he had just found a pile of old records. The name of the artist was Pauline Anna Strom and the price was $15. I wrote to him/her:

> From: hgrassegger (()) xxxxx.de
> Subject: Record: Anna Pauline Strom - Trans Millenia
> Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 21:10:45 +0100
> To: magicvisions {{}} yyyyyy.com
>
> Dear Sir or Madam,
>
> I would like to know if I can order
> Anna Pauline Strom - Trans Millenia
>
> with you?
>
> I read on the internetblog about you offering the record
>
> Kind regards from Zürich,
> Hannes
>
Am 19.02.2012 um 22:18 schrieb jagat rainbow:
Dear Hannes,
Yes, I will create a paypal link for you to place an order. You are aware that it is a LP record.
Will send link in next day or so. Thank you for touching in.
Best regards from California
Jagat
Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 22:26:51 +0100

Dear Jagat, no worries! thank you, it is a vinyl record?If so, thats good!
Hannes

Hi Hannes,
Yes it is a vinyl record and is shrink wrapped new condition..never opened.

The shipping from USA to Switzerland is $15.00 I accept payment via paypal

my address is

magicvisions@yyyyyy.com
or I have created a link for you.
https://www.xxxxx.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=PUFOSG6UBK6E5Y
I will ship as soon as I receive your payment. Please make sure your address below is correct.
Thank you!
Jagat

PS. I was listening to a documentary on youtube last night about Billy Meier.
Are you aware of this man?
Here's the link to part 1 of 12
http://youtu.be/jsp6lF4SCKI

Am 27.2. dann:
Hi Hannes,
I sent it last Wednesday via post. Should arrive this week. Marked it as gift.
Please let me know when it arrives.
Thank you
Jagat

While I waited for the record, something happened. There was a kind of riddle that had been left unsolved. Bifi had never really been able to explain to me how she'd found the songs that had helped get me so riled up about her. In a way, she was lacking the basic knowledge for an appreciation like the one she had. Something wasn’t quite right.

One morning, early, her cheap Migros phone went off. She had left the alarm on and I pressed buttons half-blind trying to make it stop. In the very process, I opened a text message. And read it. 

If I understand it all correctly today, Bifi had had numerous men in numerous cities. Almost all were music collectors, and some of quite high caliber. Her system seems to have been to impress her various men with each other’s music, probably in order to get her hands on even better music. That’s only a hypothesis—I never asked. In any case, one of the men was being used purely for sex, and it was his text that I opened.

When the album arrived a couple of days later, I took a picture of myself holding it. I don't look so happy in the photo, but in those March days after receiving the record, I grew up. For one thing, I decided never to date anyone under the age of 25. That was the last lesson in my farewell to youthful dreams. I thought those under 25 should just keep doing what they want to do. I’m out. That very morning, I'd demanded that Bifi get immediately out of my life once and for all. It hadn’t been pretty. Like screaming in doorways and throwing clothes out of the window. 

The record itself marked the beginning of a new era, or, to be more exact, acted as the soundtrack that separated one stage of my live from another, as a kind of bridge or borderline. In this sense, the title Trans-Milennia fits well—it was more a transitional moment than the soundtrack of a new era. 

The next year, when I met the love of my life, it became that, though. She's not only the same age as me and the owner of incredible almond eyes, red hair, a real job and a stunningly charming French accent, but she’s also more interested in art than in music. When I met her she liked Bloc Party—such horrible music that it's almost naïve to be able to tolerate it or anything like it (I can't even think of the right descriptive word). But startingly, I found that taste in music wild and refreshing, somehow savage and also incredibly likeable. I never even started to try to refine or interfere with her taste as I had with the girls before and especially Bifi. I found Miss Almond Eyes exactly right as she was—even in her liking things that I don't consider exactly right, like Bloc Party. Life isn't a design object. The Weird Science phase was definitely over for me. We were so in love that I moved in with her almost immediately, which meant schlepping my ten meters of records and filling her living room. She was the first woman whose heart I wasn’t trying to win over by constantly showing off my music. That had proved a dead end before. With Almond it was about something else. 

Still, apparently, she found it a little sad that I wouldn’t share music so much with her, and became curious enough to start dipping into my record collection on her own when I was away.

On one of the first evenings in my new home, just after finally setting up my record player, I arrived to find wonderful, delicate sounds filling our living room. My girlfriend sat there happily in the middle of the room and asked, "Where did you get this strange album? This Pauline Anne Strom? It's so beautiful, it made me cry." Then I cried a little bit too, inside. "Jagat Rainbow sent it to me," I said. 

Hannes Grassegger is a business reporter and net theorist from Switzerland. He is secretly in love with music which most recently led to him collaborating with San Franciscan composer and eventual web-pop starlet Holly Herndon for DIS Magazine. 

Translation: Annie Garlid

Text: marc jauss
originally printed in zweikommasieben magazine #8

The secretive collective Tasty Morsels has come to be known for its output of mystical, enigmatic sounds. Listeners will find themselves gliding ecstatically through the violent topography of a sonic landscape dominated by soft drones and oscillating textures. Here we introduce two LPs that have recently appeared on the label. 

The newest release by the Morsel family member Dialect integrates itself seamlessly into the label’s aesthetic terrain. Partly through an attention to detail, it overcomes the hurdles of complacency and other musical clichés on its own terms. Cosmic horns hover alongside gorgeous voices and cryptic textures. The album’s title fits: Advanced Myth invites the discovery of lost worlds. 

The journey into the Morsels landscape continues with epic lo-fi pop. A Year in Your Garden is the Irish duo Column’s first LP on the label. From time to time it recalls CANT’s album Dreams Come True: hallucinatory synth melodies snuggle up to well-tempered bass lines. Column succeeds in tickling the ears and encouraging endless dreaming. 

Trans-Millenia Consort

Die Story dieser Platte, wie ich zu ihr kam, was sie bedeutet und so, verschweige ich normalerweise. Obwohl ich jedes Mal danach gefragt werde, was das da eigentlich sei wenn ich sie laufen lasse, weil sie so auffällig gut ist. Eine richtig gute Platte ist immer eine Story. Eine Beziehungsgeschichte. Ich und meine geliebte Platte. Aber in dem Fall versuche ich immer die Fragenden abzulenken indem ich von noch viel selteneren Platten erzähle, oder mit hochspannenden Fakten irritiere, von dieser einzigartigen blinden Synthiefanatikerin mit dem Esotouch, die Anfang der 1980er in der ersten Welle der Silicon Valley Euphorie diese Klänge erzaubert hat, diese kleinen perlenden Melodien, die sich so gut anfühlen wie Pusteblumen fliegen lassen für Zweijährige, dazu diese New Age Flächen, wie schöne weite Landschaften über die das Zeug dann fliegt, unterlegt mit sacht flackernden Beats die eigentlich erst 15 Jahre später erfunden und dann Breakbeats oder Drum&Base genannt werden sollten. 

Dass ich nichts über die Platte erzähle liegt daran, dass Trans Millenia Consort von Pauline Anna Strom genau das geworden ist, was eine Platte viel eher sein kann als ein File: ein Träger von persönlichen Erinnerungen. Files können Daten speichern. Platten speichern Gefühle. Keine Ahnung warum das so ist. Eigentlich sind ja beides Medien gemacht zum Speichern von Daten. Und esoterisch bin ich nicht. Analog ist für mich kein Zauberwort. Das Ding ist: so wie mich das Knacken und Knistern bei Platten ehrlich gesagt stört, genauso sind die gespeicherten Erinnerungen, die sich an meine Platten heften ja nicht immer nur positiv. Das sollte man nicht verherrlichen. Manche Platten stehen für schlechte Zeiten. Manchmal will man keine solchen Erinnerungen an seinen Platten kleben haben. Selektiv löschen geht aber auch nicht. Nun, auf dieser Platte ist ein echter Schlag vereint mit dem wohl grössten Highlight. Ich liebe die Platte daher, ich hasse sie auch inbrünstig und kann sie daher nicht immer hören. 

Es geht um Liebe. Um zwei Frauen. Meine jetzige Frau, und die davor. Ich hatte sie schon kennengelernt als sie 15 war. Und ich 25. Sie war die beste Freundin der kleinen Schwester einer verflossenen Teenagerliebe von mir. So hatte ich sie irgendwann kennengelernt. Und zwar als besagte kleine Schwester, die ich noch als kreischendes, im falschen Moment türenaufstossendes Milchzahn-Schwesterchen kennengelernt hatte, plötzlich bei mir auf Skype auftauchte und anfragte ob wir einen Drink nehmen sollten. 

Während ich mich um andere Sachen gekümmert hatte, war sie nämlich sechzehn geworden, hatte mich im Netz gefunden und war auf die Idee gekommen mich einfach mal anzurufen. Ich hatte damals grade nix besseres zu tun als mit einer 16-jährigen rumzuhängen, und das ist ja auch spannend mal zu sehen was sich so entwickelt und so traf ich mich mit ihr. In einer Bar. Sie war ein zuckersüsses blondes Girl geworden die nur Quatsch erzählte, kicherte und alles was ich ihr erzählte ausdrücklich „cool“ bzw. „supercool“ fand. Dann trat ihre beste Freundin (BF) in den Raum. Nennen wir sie Bifi. Das war ungefähr das süsseste Mädchen, dass ich in meinem Leben gesehen hatte. 

Eine ehemalige Ballerina mit wunderschönen schwarzbraunen Haaren, milchweisser Haut, einer hohen runden Stirn und Augen wie, hm, Teletubbys. Sie trat ein und sagte mit einer glockenhellen Stimme irgendwelche Schimpfwörter über irgendwas das sie grade erlebt hatte. Ich war komplett verwirrt. Da stand ich nun in einer Bar, Mittzwanziger mit ungeklärtem Selbstbewusstsein, Krise auf zwei Beinen, zwischen zwei zauberhaften, viel zu jungen Damen die mich beide anhimmelten. Keine Ahnung wofür. 

Am Ende des Abends lag Bifi vor mir im Bett der Mutter ihrer besten Freundin – sturmfrei! - und wollte Sex. Allerdings war ich zu un-YOLO dafür.  

Bifi auf jeden Fall hatte fortan meine Nummer und meldete sich gelegentlich. Wir sprachen dann ein bisschen und ich glaube sie sagte mir dabei damals, dass sie MGMT möge. Eine schreckliche Band, sagte ich. Ich träumte davon, was für eine wunderbare Frau sie wohl einst sein könnte, wenn sie einen wirklich guten Musikgeschmack hätte. Die Idee begeisterte mich. Eine Traumfrau. Ich begann ihr Mixes zu schicken um sie auszubilden. Sie reagierte extrem positiv. Ich versuchte mir einzureden ich sei so was wie ein grosser Bruder. Bald begann sie mir mit Mixes zu antworten, und die wurden immer besser. Sie besuchte mich auch ein, zwei Mal, aber ich biss die Zähne zusammen.

Bifi lernte fotografieren. Ihre Teasepics testete sie an mir aus. Ihr Musikgeschmack wurde immer besser. Kurz vor ihrem Abi schrieb mir einen Liebesbriefe in denen sie davon sprach, dass sie jetzt ganz bald frei und volljährig sei. Manchmal begann ich mir auszumalen wie es wohl wäre. Als Bifi Zwanzig war, zog sie für eine Weile in eine grössere Stadt (ich habe vergessen zu sagen, dass sie davor am Land lebte). Ihre Tapes und YouTube-Links wurden exzellent. Wie sich rausstellte, war sie mit einem Experimental-DJ zusammengekommen, der etwa 10 Jahre älter als ich ist. Sie hatte versucht, mir das zu verheimlichen aber mich erleichterte es irgendwie als ich es erfuhr. Sie sammelte Affären mit alten Typen dachte ich und vergass sie. Bis auf die Momente, in denen ich an sie denken musste. Einmal schickte ich ihr Woo. 

Dann, zwei Jahre später, Dezember 2011 stand sie plötzlich vor meiner Tür. Machen wir es noch mal kurz: ich hatte das Gefühl mein heimlicher Traum wäre plötzlich Wahrheit geworden, die letzten Jahre, alles würde plötzlich Sinn machen und ich sollte jetzt verdammt noch mal ja sagen zum Glück, das sich da mit strahlenden Bambiaugen an mich warf. Sie sah blendend aus, hatte einen überirdisch guten Musikgeschmack und machte dazu noch ein interessantes Studium, das sie passioniert verfolgte. Ein bisschen konnte ich das alles nicht glauben. Als hätte ich mir meinen Traum irgendwie selber herangezogen. 

Sie zeigte mir fantastische Minimal Wave Sachen von denen ich noch nie gehört hatte. Ich lernte über sie die japanische 80er Jahre Elektro-Fusion Szene kennen. Mariah. Wir kamen zusammen. Ich hatte noch nie eine Freundin gehabt, die dermassen gute Musik in mein Leben gebracht hatte. Hier eine ihrer Playlists. Kopiert aus einer Mail. 

PASS AUF DICH AUF! 
FOLGENDE LIEDER SIND AUF  MEINER "ALPIN / SKILIFT/ PANORAMA"
WIEDERGABENLISTE

Xingu - Zenamon
Shirt No.7 - Durutti Column
Yodel 1, 2, Pauls Dance, Air Dancer - Penguin Cafe Orchestra
Charotte - Ernest Hembersin
Managua - Finis Africae
Are you Awake- Kevin Shields
Brass Pocket- Pretenders

WINTAUGE (meinst du die meinen das ernst?)
http://cdreissuewishlist.blogspot.com/2012/02/wintauge-germany.html

DA SIND ALLE SAMPLES GANZ GUT:
http://musk31as.blogspot.com/

Ich kaufte einen alten Thorens Plattenspieler und trug ihn in ihr Zimmer als Zeichen dass ich angekommen war. Gleichzeitig fing es bei mir an beruflich zu laufen. Ich war Anfang Dreissig, Plattensammler-Paradies-Freundin plus Traumberuf. Und dann zeigte sie mir Pauline Anna Strom. Ich glaube sie hatte es als namenlosen file. Irgendwoher. Hört Euch das an. Emerald Pool heisst das. So war mein Leben. Genau in diesem Moment. 

Das wollte ich auf Platte. Unbedingt. Diese Gefühl aufheben. 

Auf Discogs war die Scheibe noch nicht mal eingetragen, glaube ich. Ich setzte meine ganze Recherche-Power ein, alles, wirklich, und tatsächlich. Ich fand nicht nur den Namen, sondern auch die Platte. Einen Google Eintrag Nr. 217. Auf einem obskuren Eso-Forum hatte eine Person mit dem Pseudonym Jagat Rainbow eine Mailadresse gelassen und geschrieben er hätte grade einen Stapel alter Platten gefunden. Name des Interpreten Pauline Anna Strom. Preis 15 Dollar. Ich schrieb ihn/sie an: 

> From: hgrassegger (()) xxxxx.de
> Subject: Record: Anna Pauline Strom - Trans Millenia
> Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 21:10:45 +0100
> To: magicvision (()) yyyyyy.com
> 
> Dear Sir or Madam,
> 
> I would like to know if I can order
> Anna Pauline Strom - Trans Millenia
> 
> with you?
> 
> I read on the internetblog about you offering the record
> 
> Kind regards from Zürich,
> Hannes
>

Am 19.02.2012 um 22:18 schrieb jagat rainbow:
Dear Hannes,
Yes, I will create a paypal link for you to place an order. You are aware that it is a LP record.
Will send link in next day or so. Thank you for touching in.
Best regards from California
Jagat
Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 22:26:51 +0100

Dear Jagat, no worries! thank you, it is a vinyl record?If so, thats good!
Hannes

Hi Hannes,
Yes it is a vinyl record and is shrink wrapped new condition..never opened.
The shipping from USA to Switzerland is $15.00 I accept payment via paypal

my address is

magicvisions@yyyyy.com
or I have created a link for you.
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=PUFYG6UBK6E5Y
I will ship as soon as I receive your payment. Please make sure your address below is correct. Thank you!
Jagat

PS. I was listening to a documentry on youtube last night about Billy Meier.
Are you aware of this man?
Here's the link to part 1 of 12
http://youtu.be/jsp6lF4SCKI

Am 27.2. dann:
Hi Hannes,
I sent it last Wednesday via post. Should arrive this week. Marked it as gift.
Please let me know when it arrives.
Thank you
Jagat


Während ich auf die Platte wartete, passierte etwas. Es gab da ein kleines Rätsel. Bifi hatte mir nie so richtig erklären können, wie sie jeweils zu diesen Liedern, kam die mich so für sie begeisterten. Auf eine Art fehlte ihr ja die Grundausbildung für so ein Verständnis. Irgendwas stimmte nicht so richtig. 

Eines Frühmorgens klingelte ihr Migros Billig Phone. Sie hatte den Wecker angelassen und ich drückte halbblind dran rum um das irgendwie auszukriegen. Dabei öffnete sich eine SMS. 

Wenn ich es heute richtig verstanden habe, dann hatte Bifi mehrere Männer. In mehreren Städten. Fast alles Musiksammler, zum Teil ziemlich hochkarätige Kaliber. Ihr System scheint gewesen zu sein, die Jungs gegenseitig mit ihrer Musik anzufeuern. Wahrscheinlich um an noch bessere Musik ranzukommen. Das ist nur eine Hypothese. Ich hab nie nachgefragt. Aber einer jedenfalls war nur für Sex gedacht. Dessen SMS hatte sich vor mir geöffnet.   

Als die Platte ein paar Tage darauf bei mir ankam, machte ich ein Bild von mir mit der Scheibe in der Hand. Auf dem Foto sehe ich nicht so glücklich aus. Aber in diesen Märztagen als ich die Platte bei mir hatte, bin ich glaube ich erwachsen geworden. Für meinen Teil entschloss ich mich fortan keine U25er mehr zu daten. Das war die letzte Lektion in Sachen Jugendträume. Sollen die doch machen was sie wollen. Bifi hatte ich noch am Morgen komplett aus meinem Leben verabschiedet. Und zwar ziemlich zackig. 

Die Platte selber stand irgendwie direkt am Beginn einer neuen Epoche. Oder genauer: sie war der Soundtrack, der den einen Teil vom anderen trennte. So eine Brücke oder Grenzlinie. Mir passt das Trans-Millenia gut im Titel. Nicht wirklich der Soundtrack einer neuen Zeit. 

Bis ich im kommenden Jahr die Frau meines Lebens traf. Die ist nicht nur so alt wie ich, hat wahnsinnige Mandelaugen, rote Haare, einen echten Beruf und einen umwerfenden süssen französischen Akzent – sondern sie interessiert sich auch eher für Kunst als für Musik. Bei Musik mochte sie Bloc Party. Das ist so wahnsinnig schlecht, das ist quasi naiv so was dermassen (mir fällt gar kein Wort dafür ein) überhaupt hören zu können. Das fand ich irgendwie wild und frisch. Mir war das auch wahnsinnig sympathisch. Ich versuchte erst gar nicht dran rumzudoktoren. Ich fand Mandelauge genauso richtig wie sie ist. Inklusive Sachen die ich nicht richtig finde, sondern Bloc Party. Das Leben ist kein Design-Objekt. Die Weird Science Phase war definitiv vorbei. Wir waren so verliebt, ich zog gleich bei ihr ein, das heisst, ich schleppte meine zehn Meter Platten an und stellte ihr Wohnzimmer voll damit. Sie war die erste Frau, der ich nicht die ganze Zeit Musik vorspielen wollte, um ihr Herz für mich zu gewinnen. Das hatte sich ja als Sackgasse erwiesen. Bei uns ging es um was anderes. Was sie scheinbar ein bisschen traurig fand. Und veranlasste heimlich an meine Plattensammlung zu gehen. 

So kam es auch, dass an einem der ersten Abende als ich in meines neues Zuhause kam, grade als ich endlich den Plattenspieler installiert hatte, wunderbare zarte Klänge unseren Salon erfüllten. In der Mitte sass meine Freundin, ganz glücklich, und frage: «Woher hast Du denn diese komische Platte? Diese Pauline Anna Strom? Das ist so schön, ich musste heulen als ich es gehört habe.» Da habe ich auch ein bisschen geheult, also nach innen. Dann hab ich gesagt, die hat mir Jagat Rainbow geschickt. 

Hannes Grassegger ist Ökonom und Reporter für Das Magazin und REPORTAGEN. Kürzlich hat er mit Holly Herndon einen Mix auf dismagazine veröffentlicht.

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