Читать книгу Anecdotes from Backstage - Peter O. Bischoff - Страница 6

Kennedy in Berlin

When John F. Kennedy uttered the famous words “I am a Berliner”, I was standing in the crowds in front of Berlin City Hall with my father. The sentence is often taken out of context. What Kennedy actually said was: “All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin, and, therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words ‘Ich bin ein Berliner!’”

Later my father and I stood on the roof of our Aral petrol station - the oldest in Berlin - and watched the President’s convoy of cars pass by followed by strings of spotless police motorbikes.

We had tried to walk through the Brandenburg Gate to East Berlin two years earlier, on August 13th, 1961, but it proved absolutely impossible.

Let There Be Drums (Sandy Nelson)

I had always wanted to be a drummer and drove my parents to distraction until my big-hearted mother finally gave in. At the age of 16, she gave me my first drumkit. It was a fairly cheap piece of equipment from Tromsa, but it was mine, all mine!

Peter Bischoff 1969

Much to the amusement of our neighbours, I practiced in my room at home. We lived in a very ordinary building in Berlin Friedenau with incredibly thin walls. I never got round to taking any lessons but instead picked it up as best I could - learning by doing - and took part in music sessions wherever and whenever I could

If anyone needed a drummer - I was there. It usually went: “One, two, three… what song is this again?” At one such session, the bass player Ralph “Trotter” Schmidt (Interzone) turned to me and said, “It’s not really that important, but it would probably sound better if we all played, ehm.. together.”

I eventually got asked to sit in with the group Capitol because their original drummer Frank Hämmerle was unavailable. I ended up playing with a whole host of groups and thoroughly enjoying myself.

The first practice rooms I used were - surprise, surprise - neither easy to reach nor warm and dry. They were damp and musty and reeked of smoke - the groups we shared the rooms with invariably smoked vast quantities of dope either instead of practicing or in the hope it would help them become rich and famous at some point.I played at the famous Quasimodo club with my blues-rock trio The Witch, but never found much success outside Berlin as a musician.

I was just happy to find fellow musicians who could both play their instruments and turn up on time to a practice - having the discipline to actually run through our songs was another plus. I had to pull the plug on one guitarist because he simply would not stop doodling around long enough for the rest of the band to discuss what we were doing.

When I didn’t have a regular band, I went along to session after session or met up with like-minded souls at various youth clubs and played with and for whoever happened to be there.

On one occasion, a kid walked up to our guitarist and asked, “So you’re the best guitarist in Berlin, you reckon?” Cool and calm, Bernd Gärtig replied, “Could be.”

Bernd went on to enjoy a successful career in Hamburg with Lake. I thought he was Berlin Friedenau’s very own Carlos Santana. He could play like a man possessed but my mother would always say “it’s that friendly Bernd” when he phoned us at home.

Bernd was a kind of Gyro Gearloose. He loved fiddling about and finding new ways of improving his guitars - such as adapting the frets so he could bend strings further. He was also one of the first to use a wireless transmitter on his guitar.

Bernd Gärtig

Then he invented the elastic guitar strap. I’ll never forget watching Mother’s Finest on WDR’s Rockpalast and suddenly realising the guitarist was using one of Bernd’s elastic straps. With his long blonde hair and the way he moved, he actually looked very similar to Bernd. Bernhard Kurzke from No.1 (music store) managed to get hold of the idea and soon had it under patent.

Bernd later lived in a garden house in Blankenese near Hamburg in the grounds of the house occupied by Udo Lindenberg and Gottfried Böttger and next door to property owned by renowned publisher Axel Springer.

I once spent the night there and, when the alarm clock rang the next morning, the curtains went up automatically, the coffee machine sprang to life and music started pouring from the radio. Bernd was a born tinkerer. His house is a bit difficult to see at the left, but in front is his special van from Volkswagen.

Falkensteiner Ufer - Hamburg

The first rock concert I ever visited in Berlin was “Ton Steine Scherben” in 1970 in a club called Quartier Latin. Singer Rio Reiser belted out his hit “Macht kaputt was euch kaputt macht” (Destroy what’s destroying you).

But it was me who was actually broke. I had to walk home after the concert. As a trainee, I didn’t have the money for a taxi and night buses didn’t exist back then. However, it wasn’t long before I passed my driving test and my parents helped me out with my first car: a 1959 VW Beetle which could barely manage 80 km/h (50 mph). My father restricted the engine so I couldn’t race around the city. Originally, I had wanted to buy a Karmann-Ghia from a workmate, but my Dad was dead against it: “It’s far too fast for you!” Even if I had wanted to, somehow I don’t think a car as simple as the Karmann-Ghia would have turned me into Michael Schumacher.

So I got my mother’s Beetle. Sprayed blue, it didn’t look half bad. And the built-in radio was pretty impressive compared to others I had heard; the speaker positioned directly behind the steering wheel certainly had plenty of oomph. But I’d have to wait for a cassette player.

Sportpalast Berlin, 30.3.1970, the Pop Progressive Peace concert: what an event! The line-up included The Spencer Davis Group, Hardin & York, Deep Purple, The Nice, Keef Hartley Band, Alexis Korner, and Wonderland. As the concert drew to a close, all the musicians involved came back on stage for an impromptu session - including the festival promoter and member of Wonderland, Frank Dostal, who I would eventually get to know in my time at Logo as Rosy Rosy’s and the Crackers’ producer.

While Deep Purple were performing, I managed to get right up to the stage (there was never anything like stage security or crush barriers back then) and watched Ritchie Blackmore destroy two Fender guitars by driving them into his amplifier. I was well impressed. What a power!

Ticket prices were far lower at that time; I bought my ticket in advance for 9,80 DM (€5). However, that was still a considerable sum for a trainee like myself bringing home no more than 130 DM a month.

I eventually got to know the members of Wonderland when I moved to Hamburg:

Dicky Tarrach with The Rattles, Kalle Trapp as producer of one of the bands I managed. Claus Robert Kruse played with his jazz group Känguru on numerous occasions at the Fabrik in Hamburg and Achim Reichel joined many of the artists on his label when they appeared at Logo during my time there.

Finally, my dream of playing live with my own band came true.

We turned quite a few heads in late summer 1973 driving through Berlin in an old police bus we had bought at an auction, all long hair and high hopes, jaws dropping whenever we stopped at traffic lights. We were invited to play at a festival in Berlin Neukölln called “Artmeeting 73” which sported a line-up of local bands e.g. Rockcypfel and Tontransport. Before each band, they showed a short introductory film made in the band’s own rehearsal space; ours was probably the best because we practiced on the upper floor of a church in Kreuzberg, in front of a massive organ. Unfortunately, very few people saw us play as we were first on stage - at 3pm - about 50 watched us and provided warm applause. We later discovered someone had made a bootleg tape - immortality of a kind. The name of our band: Hope. (Springs eternal, don’t you think?)

Hope: Klaus Wolf and Peter Bischoff

We were a collection of amateur musicians with little ambition and few illusions about how far we could go on little more than raw enthusiasm. However, our bass player Eddy eventually graced a number of groups including The Twins (we both tried out for their predecessor, Chippendale). His girlfriend Beate Bartel was also a bass player who went on to found Mania D, Einstürzende Neubauten and Liaison Dangereuses.

Beate Bartel

We met Alex Conti and Bernd Gärtig through sessions in Neukölln and Kreuzberg (they both moved to Hamburg and played with Neil Landon, Rudolf Rock und die Shocker and Lake.) During one such session, Eddy took off his bass and came across to me on drums. He was clearly a bit shaken and said he simply couldn’t keep up with “two cool guitarists who played like Clapton and Hendrix”.

Inga Rumpf invited Alex to come to Hamburg to join her famous band, Atlantis. While on tour in the US with Lake - supporting Lynyrd Skynyrd - the group Chicago tried to hire him - but he politely declined their offer. A US agency invited Lake to play for a full 365 days in the States, but the band took a little too long to reach a decision so the agency politely withdrew their offer.

Back in Hamburg, Alex found himself short of cash for a taxi after a nght out on the tiles, so he paid the driver by handing over a very expensive Rolex watch instead.

Alex used to share a flat in Pöseldorf with Bernhard Kurzke (founder of No.1 music store). On one occasion, as he was entertaining a young lady, Bernhard urgently needed to use the only phone in the house - which was lying under Alex’ bed. He quietly opened the door a little and started pulling the cord. However, the telephone fell over, the moment was ruined and Alex threw a hail of abuse - and his boots - at the culprit disappearing quickly behind the door.

Legendary photographer Jim Rakete made the same kind of mistake as Lake when he turned down an invitation from Nena to tour the US. After landing a No.1 with “99 Luftballons”, he said, “We’ll come over when you get your next No.1.” History tells us this level of success is about as likely as winning the lottery; the only German artists to have managed a No.1 in the US at that point were Bert Kämpfert, Kraftwerk and Silver Convention. Later in the 80s, Hamburger-by-choice Taco hit the jackpot with “Puttin’ On The Ritz”. No other German band has done it since.

Wait a moment, there is one other German band who have enjoyed huge success in the US: Tangerine Dream, from Berlin Schöneberg.

Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

I interviewed Tangerine Dream’s Chris Franke for the Berlin music magazine “Nur Musik” (Just Music) in the recording studio using a Uher tape recorder. Chris talked about recording their new album and how they’d brought in Nick Mason - drummer with Pink Floyd - to produce it, but eventually sent him home again because it wasn’t helping them get anywhere.

As I went into the toilet, I bumped into Austrian singer/songwriter Georg Danzer coming out with a huge grin on his face and a pen in his hand: he had just written “Danzer was here” on the mirror.

The owner of the studio, Jörg, talked about the recording sessions he had taken part in there with David Bowie before moving to the Hansa Studios. At one point, Bowie had apparently announced: “Let’s make a hit tonight.” He then went on to lay down the first demos of “Heroes”.

Meanwhile, back at the youth centre…

I was getting more involved with a band called A33 (named after a Berlin bus route) and later Firma 33 and learning a trick or two from the drummer in their practice room. They mainly played covers and had The Beatles down to a tee. The drummer Rüdiger Selle had a voice which could match both Paul’s and John’s perfectly. I started helping out on stage when they played live and soon realised I had become a roadie before I even understood what the word meant.

Later, I helped out as a roadie for Tangerine Dream, transporting massive stacks of synthesizers across Berlin, taking Peter Baumann’s enormous American LTD limousine to the garage (the exhaust was missing so it sounded like a small tank) although not unaccompanied - safety first! - and clearing out Edgar Froese’s garage, amongst other things. Now, that’s where I made a mistake I still regret today. The band’s road manager Roli offered me an old armchair and some loudspeakers which had once belonged to John Lennon. Why I didn’t jump at the chance, I still don’t know. (I was probably broke - as usual)

When Tangerine Dream performed at the Berlin Philharmonic Concert Hall I took photographs of their entire stage set-up.

Peter Baumann 1978

Where Are We Now? (David Bowie)

A few days later, we were asked to move some equipment from Bowie’s flat at Hauptstrasse 155 in Berlin Schöneberg to Tangerine Dream’s practice room in Tempelhof. Roli and I drove over and rang the doorbell.

Coco Schwab and David Bowie - Hauptstraße Berlin

The door was answered by a slightly drunk American who introduced himself as “Jimmy”. It turned out to be Iggy Pop (James Osterberg), Bowie’s flatmate at the time. He eventually moved into his own place in the building behind Bowie’s.

David Bowie – Hauptstraße Berlin

When we reached the first floor, we were met by a David Bowie – Hauptstraße Berlin blonde Englishman with a moustache: “Hello, I’m David.” He was wearing jeans, a black leather jacket, black clogs and a grey cap - and looked nothing like a pop star. David was very pleasant and showed us the gear we were to transport to the practice room. We carried the equipment out of the 6-room apartment, put it on to the truck and set off for Tempelhof. It’s a bit of an understatement to call the place a “practice room”; it was a vast room about 1000 sq/m in size. Today, it’s part of the UfaFabrik, still very much a cultural hub. This was also where Iggy practiced with his band for their world tour - with Bowie on piano. Brian Eno turned up later, but I had to miss that particular session because I had a dental appointment. (I know where I’d rather have been!)

Now that I knew where Bowie was staying, I hung around outside his flat one day until I managed to get the photos seen here. I parked my VW bully opposite the entrance to the apartment block and had the good fortune that when Bowie and his assistant Coco Schwab (who worked with him right up till the end) came out they walked almost straight towards me. My Canon AE1 clattered and clicked away. They passed by very close to my car, then went along the other side of the street on their way back.

They both wore the same outfit: jeans, black clogs and a grey cap. The only difference was that Bowie wore a short, black leather jacket and a light-coloured shirt. They could hardly have been less conspicous.

Coco Schwab and David Bowie - Hauptstraße Berlin

I eventually sold the photos to Musik Joker magazine and used the money to set up my own small photo laboratory. When word got out about what I’d done, Edgar Froese started to call me “local mafia”.

It goes without saying that I watched Bowie perform in Berlin on numerous occasions. I was given free tickets by his record company thanks to my job in the record department of the Montanus store on Kurfürstendamm. I remember an incident on the “Station To Station” tour. Bowie was standing on stage illuminated by bright, white, neon light when suddenly some trouble kicked off right in front of the stage.

David Bowie – Deutschlandhalle Berlin 1976

He stopped the show and settled the crowd, but the moment he tried to restart the song, the audience surged forward dangerously again. He was clearly upset and decided to ditch the song and go straight into the next: “Rebel Rebel”.

The interest in Bowie in Berlin was enormous. I even received a phone call from a journalist with the Melody Maker (British music newspaper) who wanted to know everything I knew about Bowie. The Musik Joker magazine had sent them my photos. Bowie’s favourite groupie Sarah from Berlin also got in touch to find out what I knew.

David Bowie 1978

I saw Bowie again backstage at a Zappa gig in the Deutschlandhalle in Berlin. Bowie and Iggy Pop sat behind the stage for the whole gig, during which Zappa made fun of a “white, English pop star” - but nobody could have guessed that the star in question was sitting only a few metres away.

David Bowie and Iggy Pop backstage at the Zappa-Concert

I took this photograph with my small agency camera: Berlinnewcomers Iggy and Bowie backstage. They were all standing outside Zappa’s room after the show: the press, friends, Bowie and Iggy - all waiting to be invited into the Promised Land. A moment later, John Smuthers (Zappa’s skinhead bodyguard) peered through the door and waved Iggy inside. Bowie was clearly very disappointed. I’m not sure, but that could have been influential in Bowie’s decision to poach Zappa’s extraordinary guitarist Adrian Belew for his next major tour. Belew and Bowie later drove to a restaurant (Exil) to discuss everything and bumped into Zappa who was already eating there.

Bowie wanted to explain but Zappa only said „Fuck you captain Tom!“ As they left the Exil Bowie said to Belew „that went really well, didn’t it?“

John Smuthers had torn a strip off someone during the gig because he wasn’t displaying his backstage pass properly. To demonstrate how it should be done, he pointed at me: I had stuck mine on my jeans, thigh-high. Very easy to see, very professional. I must admit, I did walk that little bit taller after the compliment.

We picked up Zappa at the airport and I used the opportunity to get an autograph. He was the first through the gate, a glossy magazine open in his left hand, his hand luggage in his right. The rest of the band followed on behind him. Then it was off to the hotel - Sarah and I up front in my VW, Zappa and the band following us in a minibus.

Frank Zappa 1978

For everyone involved - and those not involved as well - soundchecks can be teeth-grindingly dull and annoying. But there are exceptions. They had already opened the Deutschlandhalle to the public by the time the band came out for the soundcheck - it was getting on and the crowd was desperate for the show to start. The place was packed when a familiar voice rang out: “Welcome to the Mothers Of Invention Soundcheck.” They left the stage about 20 mins later and returned to start the show at 8 pm, on the button.

Lust For Life (Iggy Pop)

I didn’t have to wait long for my next major concert experience. When Iggy Pop played at the HDK, I found myself standing beside Jäki (pic), Berlin’s Lord Mayor of Punk, and had a ringside seat when he suddenly sank his teeth into Iggy’s leg because he was enjoying the show so much.

I met - a more disciplined - Jäki Eldorado (Jochen Hildisch) in Hamburg some years later in his capacity as tour manager for various bands (including Die Toten Hosen and Robbie Williams).

I shot some photos of Iggy and his band - paparazzi style - as they arrived at their practice room and, as usual, got a friend of mine to develop them. Unfortunately, they disappeared - as did a lot of Bowie photos.

Iggy Pop – Hochschule der Künste Berlin

Somehow, I managed to scrape through my commercial training at Herlitz and spent a further six months completing my placement before submitting to the urge to do something different with my life. As well as playing in my band, I transported perfume around Berlin and listened to a lot of music on AFN (American Forces Network). The US radio station played loads of pop and soul - and it helped improve my English enormously. Reading Melody Maker and the New Musical Express also broadened my knowledge of music and the music business. Soon, I was being referred to as a walking rock encyclopedia.

My fellow band member Uli called one day and said he had an interesting job for me. Fela Kuti and Ginger Baker were supposed to be playing together that evening at the Berliner Philharmonie. A press conference had been called for the afternoon in Joe’s Bierhaus - and would I like to take some photos?

Fela Kuti

The Nigerian Afrobeat superstar arrived with an enormous entourage including - I estimated - 27 wives, lots of children and any number of other relatives. Ginger turned up on his own - but almost didn’t turn up at all. He performed that evening, but not with Fela as had been announced. There had been some kind of argument so Ginger played a long solo spot before Fela and his band took the stage. I shot photos of both Ginger’s support slot and Fela, his band and their numerous dancers later on.

I booked Ginger to play with his new band Energy at the Fabrik in Hamburg in the 80s. After an hour, he and the band left the stage and waited patiently backstage for the audience to call for more. But nothing happened. People went to the bar and bought more beer and waited. It took a while for it to dawn on us - and explain to Ginger - that the audience thought he’d simply taken a break. So, thirty minutes after leaving the stage, Ginger and his band came back on and “continued” the concert.

Suddenly, the police turned up because a number of neighbours had phoned to complain about the noise. Somehow, I managed to convince the police not to close the place down - and nobody in the audience ever knew just how lucky they were to be able to enjoy the “second half” of the show.

Enjoying live music remained an important part of my life - even though I was often too broke to be able to afford tickets, when Led Zeppelin came to town, for example. At various concerts, I tried to get in backstage for free.

Ginger Baker – Berlin Philharmonie 1978

Once when I was hanging around the backstage entrance to the Deutschlandhalle in Berlin - broke but not broken - a guy asked me for a job. When I asked him why me, he said it was because I looked responsible “for something”. At that point, I had no idea a shining career as concert organiser awaited me in Hamburg.

Don’t Be Cruel (Elvis)

I helped out in Peter Jahnel’s music store, either selling or stocking shelves. I had a VW bully so I got sent on errands to Metro wholesalers or the Post Office. At one point, we played host to a product presentation for a company which made guitar amplifiers - featuring Elvis Presley’s guitarist, James Burton. I wasn’t that impressed actually - Elvis wasn’t my thing and I didn’t know his guitarist. When the session started afterwards, I sat down behind the drums for a while. I was replaced rather quickly, but nevertheless I can say I played with James Burton. Not bad, eh?

I found talking to the store’s resident technician - Bernd Koschmidder, former bassist with Krautrock legends Birth Control - much more interesting.

Peter Jahnel and Bernd Koschmidder

Silver Machine (Hawkwind)

Silver Machine was English psychedelic group Hawkwind’s biggest hit; I caught them at the Paradiso in Amsterdam in 1973. A long-haired girl sat cross-legged on the front of the stage as they rattled through their set and rolled an enormous imaginary joint which she went on to “smoke” very theatrically. On bass that night, Lemmy Kilmister, the man who would eventually form Motörhead. Earlier that afternoon, we had pitched our tent in Alkmaar just outside Amsterdam: hometown to one Rudolf Wijbrand Kesselaar (a.k.a. Rudi Carrell)!

I managed to get in to see Bob Dylan for free as well. Somehow.