|Welcome to the Club. Put your proper shoe forward. This will not be a short ride, no, it will drag and beat you for years. But let’s move on.
In the central train station of Cologne, Germany there used to be a nightclub called Wartesaal, literally once a waiting hall for passengers who hung out, waited and then departed to catch their next train. It was a very large space.
I went there every weekend to introduce myself to the big hair girls and the young boys with cigarettes in their mouths. The best place was always right in front of the huge speakers. Most people realize that you can not see music, but they try anyway, so they look at the speakers as the source of life. If you happened to be in front of them, you were life itself or at least you tried to project that you were close to the source of everything that can not been seen, yet permeates everything.
It is all about this instant encounter, a first time that sets the whole world in motion and everything falls into place, right in front of you and it will never go away. So everybody waits for this, holds on to their posture, follows their inner obligation to impermanence.
Yet that moment never arrives.
No bother, let’s just have another drink, a spin to the beat, a look around. Well, that is better, much better. See, it is not that empty in here anymore. More like pretty vacant. Get it? Fascinating. I wonder what will happen next?
So, in due time, the next moment arrives, obliterating the current, and that is pretty much it. Just another moment in the Wartesaal, just another beat until somehow, somewhere time runs out.
Panic sets in.
Where is my wallet? What the..., somebody ripped my cigarettes off, no, they are just in the other pocket. The line in front of the bathroom is kind of long, I wonder if they do drugs in there?
What can be better than taking drugs in a public restroom? You guessed it, pretty much anything and I really mean any thing. Like sex. But, why and what, it’s a the toilet, that is gross and back to the line in front of the bar you go.
Forget about it. Beer is almost empty. So, wait around some more but look at that, isn’t he cute, I wonder, but her hair is really big and I can smell the scent of hairspray through the fog of cigarettes.
The moments keep on piling up. Right here in front of everybody, all the moments of all the disco dwellers at the Wartesaal, they pile up like bones. What vanishes into the thin air above is unreachable. It’s the ether, above and beyond, while the beats pile up like bones on the dancefloor.
Bones at the moment of a mass extinction event on earth. Moments into bones. Let’s mark this occasion, this very insight into the secret of life. The arrow of a bow at its peak, the tension at the height of anticipation.
I got to get out and so turn around. There are no bones. Just boys and girls trying to get into the Wartesaal and boys and girls trying to get out of the Wartesaal. 2 lines. That’s it. Why I am still here, did I miss something? Got to keep things in perspective. You get in, you get out. Please wait. Nothing is without reason.
So the years passed and I got old. Not quite sure why I’m still here, but I stopped asking questions. Actually, I’m having another of these, how about you?
|Catalog No:||FLX57 (LN404)|
|Title:||Heavy Bass Club|
|Sound Artist:||Frank Rothkamm|
|Visual Artist:||Holger Rothkamm|
Roland Juno 106