Künstler Treu my sketchbook of whack   (CD / 13 tracks) 01 - hiddensee I    real   02 - low on sugar    real   03 - poara nuestros creativos    real   04 - uriella    real   05 - postcard from a foreign strand    real   06 - greenwich mean time    real   07 - is it me    real   08 - who's your boogie beau    real   09 - all busted    real   10 - black butter    real   11 - topsy turvy time    real   12 - vorw‰rts, die zeit    real   13 - hiddensee II    real

The natural born chiller and formerly better half of Berlin duo "dauerfisch" unpacks a goody bag of virginals, air-guitarred solos, infatuating voices, drum n' jazz-vibes, funk concentrates and zipped primetime-news-anchorman-jazz. Incredible arrangements unleash unexpected turns in a pop history of itself. A surgical genre rehab for long-flatlined clichés to be reanimated with visionary de-contextualization (something that actually does sound better than it reads). Or how would one try to couch an easy listening variation of an early Eisler socialist hymn that funks like an Italian synthesizer producer's cooperative in a Jess Franco joint? How 'metaphorize' hypnotic 70s downbeat with a sonority equalling the annual output of Australian lamb shearers? Especially when that damn doorbell keeps ringing all the time...or does it? The Künstler has well done his homework for his how-to-do-proper-chart-pop class, and never winced from the 80s anyway. So, Mr. Scruff, wrap up your Fish, and 'lovely' Tim Lee, you better grow a bigger moustache quick. Here you have the Endlösung of the Loungefrage and - oops, it's not ending up in idle jog trot and old custom. Ahead, time! -"Vorwärts, die Zeit!". Potential hits for to preview scan and fall in digital love with: para nuestros creativos: Already heavy rotating in agencies and editorial offices with permanent staff. topsy turvy time: 1 mins. 20 of celibacy preceding true salvation. Also works without partner OR with drugs. But then the phone number on this morning's fag pack isn't registered. So, pond again. Suddenly: Vorwärts, die Zeit!. Already a classic on similarly unregistered but well-attended congregations of all sorts. is it me: over the flourishing mountain into the valley of great-but-tender gesture that caresses you - or is it vice versa?