Dual Action

Another double dose, as I took in two gigs in one evening, albeit just around the corner from one another. Missy magazine's relaunch was held at the ever-so-secretive West Germany, a venue which displays the abundant charm of a distressed dentist's waiting room, but books some fantastic acts. I was there to see opener Golden Disko Ship, having missed her gigs in London some months back. Time was of the essence as I wanted to check out Ich bin ein Berliner at SO36 later that night.

As it happened, GDS took the stage just after 11pm, slipping into her gigwear of poker cap and sparkly top, as she addressed her computer keyboard. Not sure of the significance of this look, but perhaps it gets her in the mood. The performance was a marvel of multi-tasking as she worked in guitar, violin, squeezebox and assorted other musical paraphernalia. I thought the images projected on the screen behind her really worked, adding to the ambience. Or maybe it was the sparkly top.

Then it was on to the fabled SO36, which I had never, ever visited. I found it surprisingly posy, as if one had wandered onto the set of the Blitz Club, ca 1983. Great sound and lights, though. I needn't have worried about time, because I was there early enough to see the opening acts, but I was keen to see Mona Mur and En Esch, who absolutely rocked. The live show very much lets the album off its leash, even if a lot of the music comes from a computer. They also had a live drummer, which helps. Mur is the quintessential show-woman, all aggression and blood lust, while guitarist Esch is an unusual mixture of menace and knock-kneed geekiness. Set-closer "Die Ballade vom Ertrunkenen Mädchen" was the icing on the cake.

Family Gatherings

Two gatherings in a space of 15 hours in extremely chilly Berlin: the Queer Punk Thingy in Kreuzberg and Suppe und Mucke in Friedrichshain. The first was at the long-standing Köpi project and featured an array of bands, performance artists and a film programme catering to the queer punkerati.

First stop was a showing of Taxi zum Klo, viewed from extremely uncomfortable benches in freezing conditions. It's December in September! Then off to see a coprophilic performance duo, then some electro pop with glitter. All in all, a fine evening's entertainment, even if now I find myself flagging where once I got a second wind. Am I still a night person?


The next day was a blur of strollers, face-painting and long queues for soup at the Kiez event Suppe und Mucke. I don't know whose idea it was to mix soup and music, but, hey, why not? Didn't actually sample much of either, but for mere minutes the sun shone and it almost seemed like summer.

Jasmina Maschina

5 May
Wilmington Arms
London

The mean streets of Clerkenwell formed the backdrop for a visit by electroacoustic act Jasmina Maschina, the Berlin-based artiste swopping one grey metropolis for another (we had sun last week, honest). Slipping on-stage and shedding her shoes, the Australian expat fixed her gaze on her Mac, started strumming her guitar and began the gig as unassumedly as she continued. Bobbing her head gently, she sampled herself, allowing the computer to take large portions of the pieces, adding her soft vocals and delicate guitar patterns to the mix. It was a performance of understated intensity, if that's not a paradox.

Some of the pieces, such as "Ausland" and "City Fever", were taken from the new City Splits #1: Berlin record, featuring two artists from one city (the other half, Golden Disko Ship, visits the UK in June). One song, "Lisa's Opening", is, as yet, unrecorded.

This Maschina was slightly under-powered, as she acknowledged, owing to a bout of food poisoning, but she played very much within herself, barely acknowledging the audience. I was reminded of Kurt Cobain's description of listening to The Raincoats, as if he were hidden in the attic, eavesdropping on them and afraid of being discovered, lest it break the mood. At the end of her seven songs/tone poems, Jasmina Maschina thanked the audience and slipped her shoes back on. And I shuffled out onto the streets of Clerkenwell, feeling I'd borne witness to quite an intimate experience.

Und jetzt

Typical. As soon as I leave Berlin, exhibits pop up everywhere I would want to see. The latest is Und jetzt, a group show of female artists from the GDR. Among the 12 artists on show are Verena Kyselka and Gabriele Stötzer, two former members of Exterra XX about whom I have written. Other artists include Christine Schlegel, Elsa Gabriel and Cornelia Schleime.

Recently, I had the pleasure of speaking to Cornelia Schleime when she came to London to present some of her Super 8 work. Sadly, I could not attend her talk, as it coincided with my visit to Berlin, but we spoke at length about her life in the GDR and her emigration to West Berlin in the 1980s. She also delivered a highly amusing rant about the plethora of prams in her neighbourhood of Prenzlauer Berg, the baby boom there an unexpected post-wall development.

Und jetzt runs at the Künstlerhaus Bethanien 27 November to 20 December.

Berlin Insane

Tomorrow, were I not otherwise engaged (and far away), I would definitely get myself over to SO36 (a venue I STILL have never been inside, though I have passed by) in Berlin to see the lineup gathered for Berlin Insane: the next chapter of Pale Music. It includes Mona Mur & En Esch, Italoporno, Kill the Dandies and Pale supremo Steve Morell on the decks.

During my recent visit to Berlin, I stopped by Pale HQ to speak with Steve, as a longtime observer of the alternative scene, about gentrification. He had a lot to say, but concluded he fears the powers-that-be want to clean up the city. "Keep Berlin dirty" is his mantra.

As it happens, I also met up with Mona Mur, at photographer Ilse Ruppert's birthday gathering. Just back from touring Poland and the Czech Republic, Mona was buzzing, the kids digging her brutalist industrial vibe. As we left Ilse's flat, Mona spotted the bus we were both meant to be getting and set off on a sprint in her high-heeled boots. Shod in sensible shoes, I quickly outpaced her, but she still made the bus. I was impressed. "These are my stage shoes," she declared, once we were seated on the top deck. From there she directed my attention to various landmarks, including former locations of the wall. Berlin by Night, with the Queen of Darkness. Now that's a tour.

Up Your Ears

Word reaches me today of an exciting queer music festival coming up in September in Berlin: Up Your Ears.

Among the bands playing are East London's own long-time DIY agitators, Gertrude, plus a Leipzig band I quite enjoyed some months back: sleazy, inc. operated. So, two good reasons to check it out.

The workshop programme includes Travel Queeries honcha Elliat Graney-Saucke's guide to producing your own radio podcasts, which I would definitely check out, were I there. A full programme for Up Your Ears is online now.

Amid the excitement of such an undertaking is the alarming news that Schwarzer Kanal, which is hosting the festival, has received an eviction notice for the end of the year. A one-of-a-kind queer collective wagon space, SK sits on a prime location that is due to be developed, as onward marches Kreuzberg gentrification. I only visited the site briefly during Ladyfest a few years back but, during a rather over-long discussion, I found it quite impressive.

A meeting about the eviction will take place during the festival, but interested parties are asked to contact SK at schwarzerkanal@squat.net with the heading "verteiler".

SO36 Benefit

A landmark of Berlin, SO36 has been called Berlin's CBGBs. The Roxy in London is another comparison, as all three played host to an explosion of counter-culture in the 1970s. But, unlike the latter two, which have disappeared, SO36 is still running, putting on gigs, club nights, and, eh, flea markets and serving as a real community resource, supporting the queer and feminist scenes, among others.

This excerpt from Berlin Super 80 gives a flavour of its heyday.


Having just celebrated its 30th anniversary, SO36 now faces closure because of noise complaints. I wondered if this was another example of the creeping gentrification engulfing the scruffier parts of the city. In response to my query, Henning, who works there, emailed me to say gentrification is a concern but this seems to be an isolated case of one neighbour complaining.

It would be a terrible shame were the SO36 to succumb. Mona Mur, who is playing on a benefit bill tomorrow, recalls many a big night: "I saw some really crucial concerts there, like DAF in 1981 when Gabi Delgado transformed the place into a madhouse. These are indeed memories... As a young punk/wave musician from "westGermany" West-Berlin was the fulfilment of desire. And the SO36 (named after the old postal code of Kreuzberg SüdOst = South East) was the Temple. It is still a cool place although it has seen its Golden Days, I guess."

Berlin Supports SO36 is on 2 July at the Modulorhaus.

Around the World in 60 Days with Gudrun Gut

Right about now Gudrun Gut should be on her long journey home after a two-week Antipodean trip, with a festival appearances and other gigs. Before she touches down in Berlin, though, the Monika boss has a stopover in Beijing where she plays on the 8th, International Women's Day. Later in the spring, it's off to the USA. So, busy, busy.

And indeed, she was so busy that it was difficult to link up for an interview while I was in Berlin earlier this year. However, before she set off last month, we spoke briefly about her plans over the next few months and about the new EP, her first foray into download-only releases.

Coming up on 19 March is the premiere of her collaboration with sound artist AGF, which will air on Late Junction on BBC Radio 3 in the UK. The theme sprang from a shared interest of the two, as she explained. "It's called Baustelle, it's about a building site, because she built a house and I built a house. But she built a house in Finland and so she doesn't live here anymore. We developed four new pieces for this. And we really enjoyed that, actually, and so we're gonna do more. We want to do an album out of that and that we wanna have finished for autumn, actually. We already have 20 minutes, so it's not so much. We want to do some live shows together."

Gudrun's house is the country house she is building in Brandenburg, north of Berlin. It is one aspect of her new-found interest in nature, which extends to artwork she contributed to the Transgression exhibit as well as her new EP, whose title is almost as long as the four songs within: Apples, Pears & Deer In Poland touches on romanticism and nature.

I can't remember discussing fruit in an interview but Gudrun was quite enthused by her rediscovery of "these sorta like really old German normal fruits", as opposed to the foreign imports that dominate the market. "But going back and eating a good German apple and a good German pear is something really exciting, I thought. Especially if it's not treated and stuff, it tastes beautiful and it looks beautiful. And I thought that it's so different if you have it in the shop or if you just have it from the tree. They just look much more beautiful when they are not so polished."

Another track on the EP, "Harz4Schleife", finds her taking a walk through nature and balancing her response to the beauty of the surroundings with the reality of the inhabitants. "You know, in Germany we have a problem: Landflucht. People from the countryside all move to the city, so, especially around Berlin, there are like only some men. Most women left, because they're, you know, a little bit more clever (giggle) and a couple of men are still there but they're mostly unemployed, so it's really strange because it's a whole different life there, around the country. It's because all the people who are a bit clever left."

She continued, "But then, on the other hand, it has a real life quality because it's not so full as the city. It's not Beton [concrete]. It's not so much houses. It's just like real nature. So, it's like all kind of soft earth you walk on. This has a real fascination. I'm really fascinated with this. Because, you know, I'm like much more like a culture girl. I like computer games and stuff, so this virtual world always was more my world and then I discovered that this new thing (chuckles) for me was nature. It's interesting. I find it really interesting, because there's like some depths I never expected."

Foresaking the lure of native fruit, she is heading in April to Colorado for an appearance at the Communikey festival and a week-long residency at the Uni of Colorado Boulder campus, where Prof. Gut will speak on her life as a self-made artist. This has prompted a bit of digging into the archive to find appropriate photos and so forth. It is now 30 years since she first emerged with experimental bands Din A Testbild and Mania D, and so there is a wealth of potential material, but as of our discussion, she had yet to finalise the speech.

But, how would the one-time scourge of "hippieverseuchten Berlin" cope with the crunchy granola goodness of Boulder? "Oh, no problem. I don't mind hippies at all." A volte face! She laughed. "That was in the '80s." Never mind. Surely, self-made artists are allowed to be contradictory.

Lost and Found

New month, new country, or rather, old country, as I am back in Blighty. Ah, London. Where one experiences three seasons in three days: spring on Thursday, summer on Friday and now, back to winter. Gotta love it.

I returned from Berlin slightly lighter both in personal weight (6kg, thanks to my unintentional Toast diet) and in luggage, as I managed to leave my tiny, tiny rucksack on a tram while doing the WG shopping. Nothing hugely financially valuable but I cursed my own stupidity and the loss of my reporter's notebook. What is a journalist without a notebook? That hurt: two months of my precious notes vanished into the ether.

I didn't give up without a fight, naturally. I was on the phone to the BVG, the transport authority several times. I phoned my mobile (also in the rucksack) and left a hopeful message (actually one of my housemates did) in German and English, asking anyone who found said item to phone the house number.

And on my last day in Berlin, rather than visiting any one of the multitude of attractions I'd missed in the preceding six weeks, I did a tour of Berlin Fundbüros: firstly, the BVG, where I was asked various details I could not supply, such as the model number of the phone. The sight of the umbrellas hanging forlornly from hooks and the notice of an impending AUCTION of unclaimed items was sobering.

Then it was on to the S-bahn Fundstelle, which I found with some difficulty and then stood outside for ages while the one man on duty attended to a call from some other hopeful seeking a bag. Through the open door I could see what looked like a locker room of items, all tagged. When he did speak to me, he showed me two small bags and several phones but none was mine.

Lastly, it was off to the Zentrales Fundbüro, but, horrors, it was closed! I returned to my flat feeling a lack of closure: if only I could have visited the Zentrales Fundbüro....

Back in London my first day, what do I find in my email? "Found in Berlin".... Surely not. I was a bit suspicious. A neighbour of the emailer had found a backpack "somewhere in Berlin". It seemed too vague to be true. But I emailed back with some identifying info and hoped for the best.

And two days ago, a friend of mine in Berlin emailed to say she had collected the rucksack and all the items were intact. Amazingly, an older couple had found the rucksack on the tram, extracted my business card with my email address and asked their neighbour with Net access to email me to make contact. To them, a hearty "Vielen Dank". If I had cockles, they would be well and truly warmed.

My journalistic career is saved, faith in humanity restored, etc. ;)

Gustav

Volksbühne

A bit late with this one but I was dog tired when I got home. Not that the performance was enervating--far from it--but it was a long day.

And a curious one, surely for Viennese performer Gustav, who turned up without her guitarist Oliver Stotz. Imminent fatherhood kept him off the stage, with the result that the band advertised was keyboardist Elise Mory. Gustav commented on the situation a few times, with comic asides.

I was surprised at how powerful the songs were in a live setting and especially with a German-speaking audience, with whom she had great rapport. Gustav's two main expressions were furrowed brow (singing) and beaming (fiddling with her laptop). The contrast between her very light, almost babyish, voice and the content of her songs is stark, but the right balance was achieved on this night. (And if one is any doubt as to the ferocity of her opinions, check out this blog posting).

Because of the missing guitar, some songs were dropped and "We Shall Overcome" was reprised for an encore, but the setlist was well-executed, a mix of songs from her first album Rettet die Wale and last year's follow-up Verlass die Stadt.

Mory and Gustav had great chemistry, and I was amused to see the singer clamber on to the piano for a well-subverted torch version of "Rettet die Wale", while Mory tickled the ivories with a straight face.

And the baby, delivered two hours after the gig, was a boy.

Gustav will be taking part in the Audio Poverty conference this weekend.

sleazy, inc. operated

K9
17 January 2009

It's hard maintaining cool while wearing red socks, but the bassist from the artfully named sleazy, inc. operated managed it. The trio from Leipzig headlined Winterfest, LaDIYfest Berlin's cold-weather offshoot, with a sparky set that woke me from my torpor.

With a singer/guitarist whose voice recalls Lesley Woods, a lanky bassist who loves to pose, and a powerhouse of a drummer, they are somewhere between post-punk and power pop, filling the small stage with a riot of galloping rhythms, stop-start songs and a clear enjoyment in doing what they do.

Young Marble Giants

HAU2
16 January 2009

What this gig had to do with "music, money and society after digitalisation" I don't know but the opening night of the Dancing With Myself conference featured a gig by post-punk minimalist legends Young Marble Giants, a welcome return after their decades-long exile. "Was anyone at our last gig here?" Stuart Moxham asked. That would be the lone Berlin gig in 1980. "No? You're all too young."

And it was a surprisingly fresh-faced crowd for such a grizzled band, if one can call the unassuming YMG that. Certainly, bassist Philip Moxham is becoming a dead ringer for Samuel Beckett, with his spiky greying locks and chiselled features. Alison Statton, though, still looks like the shy teenager she was when the band started in 1978. They make an amusing contrast on-stage, the rangy bassist stalking the stage while the diminutive singer stands at the mic, poised for action that never comes and fixing the audience with an unwavering gaze. When not singing, she looked possessed.

By contrast Stuart Moxham, the primary songwriter and historically frustrated vocalist, kept a low-key presence, concentrating on his guitar-playing with a series of agonised faces, and on the lovely, spiralling organ that marked the band out from their metal and punk peers back in Cardiff. At the back, younger brother Andrew performed the difficult function of human drum machine, playing sampled sounds from the original recordings.

The audience was rapt, adoring, demanding more from a tiny songbook that only numbered one album and one single, plus the odds and sods that turned up on last year's compilation. In fact, so pressed were the band for material that they performed a second encore of songs they'd messed up earlier. And these were the gems of the evening: a transcendant "Choci Loni" complete with the guitar lines missed out earlier and a "Wurlitzer Jukebox!" that turned into a singalong.

In truth, the gig was a bit ropey, with Alison forgetting the words to "Eating Noddemix" (which she co-wrote), and Philip and Stuart flubbing a few notes. But YMG were never about technical perfection and stagecraft. The songs, lovely, delicate, full of open spaces, are still wondrous. And it was wonderful to experience it live.

I can't imagine when they started in Cardiff that YMG ever thought they would be playing at a festival named after a Billy Idol song. In fact, the HAU space is hosting two conferences in the immediate future: Dancing With Myself explores the music industry in the current climate of uncertain economics and relentless digitalisation, while the upcoming The Politics of Ecstasy looks at altered states of presence.

I keep conflating the two into one imaginary one called The Politics of Dancing. I guess these shebangs will just keep going until the supply of '80s song titles is exhausted.

Dancing With Myself runs thru 18 January at HAU.
The Politics of Ecstasy runs 23-31 January at HAU.

Berlin: Fake or Feint + Transgression

New year, new country. Yes, it's all about change here at Kunstblog HQ, which is for the next month or so, snowy, icy, frosty Berlin. No need to explain why one would decamp to the capital of cool, except to say things were a bit glum in Blighty and one needs a change sometimes, even if it does mean arriving in -17 temperatures.

So, it was I found myself tonight at the opening of Fake or Feint, the first in a series of scenarios on the subject of deceptive appearances. Well, here's a topic ripe for exploration and thoroughly modern and all that. But, what is one's response when faced with a brown scrim in a glass-fronted room in the middle of the Berlin Carre shopping centre? The great and good were out in force, sipping from their drinks and making animated conversation, enclosed by the scrim, while another group dotted the edges, where hung three photos by Claude Cahun.

Quite the interesting character, Cahun, who only came to my attention recently but led an eventful life in the Channel Islands and continually photographed herself in various guises, pre-dating Cindy Sherman by decades. The relation of Cahun to the brown scrim (the work of Eran Schaerf)? Both are examples of the tactics of marking, with Schaerf's diaphanous curtain marking a space between public and private.

And speaking of crossing boundaries, I just about caught the closing of Transgression at Neurotitan. A collection of work by seven women working in multi-disciplinary fields, this exhibit included strange knitted portraits by Francoise Cactus, other-worldly drawings by Danielle de Picciotto and distorted photos by Lydia Lunch, all better known from the world of music than from visual art.

It also included work by Gudrun Gut and Myra Davies, who have been collaborating for almost 20 years in music and spoken word, and whom I spoke to just before Davies returned to her homeland of Canada. More on this conversation another time, but it sounds like the opening of the exhbit was the place to be, with a girl group backing of Gut, Beate Bartel, and de Picciotto for Davies' performance of tracks from Cities and Girls. Now there's a band in the making.

The two also shared some amusing anecdotes about living in freezing conditions in the Berlin of the past, making me very glad I invested in a hat with Elmer Fudd flaps. Not at all cool, but very, very warm.

Fake or Feint is at Berlin Carre through 7 February.

Myra Davies

The Girl Suite EP/Girls and Cities
Moabit Musik

After three editions of Miasma, her collaboration with musician Gudrun Gut, spoken word artist Myra Davies steps out under her own name for a new full-length CD, Cities and Girls, and an online taster, The Girl Suite EP.

A gifted storyteller, Davies has a dry, knowing and stolidly North American delivery which contrasts sharply with her Europhile leanings. Whereas Miasma explored themes of nature and gender, Davies now turns her eye to the shared culture of girls, working with a range of musical collaborators, including Gut, drawn from Berlin's experimental margins.

On the EP's standout track, “Valkyrie”, Davies celebrates “nine sisters with old German names” over Gut's remix of the operatic classic, “Ride of the Valkyries”. But in this telling, the "horsey girls" become great rebels, riding off on their steeds as the music fades, a Wagnerian nursery rhyme for the 21st century.

Curiously, that piece is omitted from the album, much of which harks back to an uncomfortable past: in “Burroughs' Bunker” Davies makes a visit to the poet's New York dwelling which reminds her of “1956 middle America”, and on “Calgary”, she turns to early 20th century folk songs from the USA and her native Canada.

“My Friend Sherry” is a strange mélange of doo-wop pop, sampled speech and Davies's recitation of a botched abortion leading to a friend's death in the 1960s. It's an ambitious undertaking to turn social commentary into a pop song which is part Four Seasons, part Shangri-Las, but Davies's voice, usually so supple and confident in its delivery, sounds curiously stiff, as if shoehorned into the pop idiom.

In a nod to Miasma's quirky subject matter, “Worm” is a drawling, tongue-in-cheek consideration of the life cycle. Inspired by the sight of a worm stranded on a pavement, Davies draws the listener into her circular musings on Jean Genet and Italian sailors, before returning to the plight of the humble creature, offering it solidarity.

Berlin, so long a source of inspiration for the Davies-Gut partnership, is notable by its absence. Only one piece, the ambient tone poem “Rain”, refers to it, and then only in the press notes. The casual listener would have no idea which city was the subject.

Berlin at least provides fruitful collaborations for the album. In addition to Gut, Davies gets musical backing from Beate Bartel and the pairing of Danielle de Picciotto and Alexander Hacke, all of whom have connections with Einstürzende Neubauten.

Bartel, Gut's former bandmate in Mania D, Matador and Neubauten, provides the music for “Hanoi”, a gentle observational tale of sitting in a café enjoying Vietnamese coffee, while watching humanity pass by on bicycles.

Considering their industrial pedigree, de Picciotto/Hacke's contribution, “STUFF”, is remarkably placid -- a bit of paper rattling, some playful fairground melodies and a few lines pilfered from “My Favourite Things” delivered in a freaky high voice.

Here, Davies delivers her wittiest performance, a comic riff on the human tendency to accumulate STUFF, always taking too much with no place to put it. Her solution to the problem of STUFF is to take it to the landfill because it's the natural conclusion of the production cycle: “Property isn't theft. It's slavery.”

Equally unsentimental is the album closer, the startling “Goodbye Belfast”, in which she bids farewell to an ancestral home she never really knew. Recalling a visit to some Northern Irish great aunts in 1982, Davies repeatedly calls up their attempts at comforting words (“Have a wee cup of tea; you'll feel better”), contrasting this with their unshakeable sectarianism and using this as a metaphor for a place caught in the past.

“Not my place, not my time, not my pain”, she concludes, bidding the city good luck in its quest to move beyond this stagnation.

Girls and Cities is out 26 September.

Vienna: No One Is Innocent + Derek Jarman

Back after a brief absence of 20 years in Vienna, I find I recognise nothing. But at least the weather´s good and there is plenty to see, starting with two exhibits at the Kunsthalle.

Punk: No One Is Innocent views punk through the eyes of three great metropolises dear to me: New York, London and Berlin. Entering the gallery, one sees first the offerings from London: portraits of urban wasteland and the dandies who frequented the Blitz club. These are supplemented by displays of the usual suspects: Sex Pistols/McLaren/Westwood.

But there is little to entice except for some intriguing work by Linder, who fronted the band Ludus and made some brilliant album covers. Her critiques of male and female magazines are still fresh.

New York is also on the grimy side, with Richard Kern`s exploitation film Fingered given an airing, as well as some installations by various musician/artist types such as Alan Vega. Still not really piquing my interest.

The Berlin section, however, is where things really pick up with exciting musical/artistic and political connections being made. After so much male-oriented art, it was a pleasure to see work made by women. Upstairs was a kind of Frauenecke peopled by visual art by Elvira Bach and the rest of the space taken up by art bands Mania D and Malaria!, springing from the Geniale Dilletanten scene of the late `70s.

There was a lot more on the GD across the room, also upstairs, with DVDs of concerts and books scattered about in a kind of punk rock reading room. Someone had even scrawled a very punk comment on the display. In response to the question: what was punk like in Vienna, this person had crossed out the past tense and rendered it in the present. Punk lives in Vienna, as elsewhere.

Also on at the Kunsthalle is Derek Jarman: Brutal Beauty, curated by Isaac Julien. Here one can relax into giant scatter cushions to watch Derek, Julien's oh-so-arty but affecting doc on his mentor Jarman, look at numerous TV screens showing clips from Jarman's films, gaze at the filmmaker's visual art, created at his Dungeness retreat or ponder Julien's own visual tributes.

A most peculiar and oddly sparse exhibit. But I quite enjoyed the doc, even if Tilda Swinton and Julien appear to wander rather cluelessly through it.

Punk: No One Is Innocent through 7 September.
Derek Jarman: Brutal Beauty through 5 October.

Working On It

dirs Karin Michalski, Sabina Baumann
50:00
Switzerland/Germany 2008

Puzzlingly subtitled "conversations, performances, queer electronics", this doc is a non-linear exploration of various forms of oppression experienced by women and trans people, from gender, to race, to sexuality and a bit of class thrown in. Hey, why not? The limitations of language, the assumptions of others, and the behaviour and thoughts of oneself all come under the microscope, as well as how it is possible to subvert or invert these behaviours.

Playing with the conventions of the doc, Michalski and Baumann structured the film in two parts: conducting initial interviews and then convening a group meeting a year later. This gives the film an intriguing angle as the participants arrive in a former Berlin supermarket to reflect on their earlier words and view others' contributions. There are several shots of interviewees watching TV screens and putting up art around the space.

But the promised performances and queer electronics are downplayed. One participant dons enormous eyelashes to recite a short poem and there are a few cameos of opening cupboards and some participants screen-printing T-shirts with the slogan "identity pills".

Interviews are interspersed with these activities rather than forming a linear flow. Decrying the limitations of gendered language, one participant creates alternatives by writing sentences on a wall using new pronouns such as "sni" and "per". Others discuss the frustrations of being stared at in public and asked where they are from because they are non-white.

One interviewee declares how great it is not to be white and skinny. Still others decry the binary gender system and refuse to be categorised within it. There is a brief interlude outside the space showing footage from what I believe was the 2007 Dyke Trans March in Berlin as rain-soaked marchers hold up signs.

Without captions or a voiceover, the film is a bit of a challenge as one struggles to see how it holds together. The interviewees are quite interesting but without knowing even their names (I recognised a couple of familiar faces from the Berlin art/music scene), it's hard to get to know them. A few clues are offered in the interviews, as some participants refer to their jobs or to confronting specific prejudices, but this is by no means uniform.

There is very little group discussion, which is a pity. Once the participants are gathered in one room, one expects more interplay but this is limited to about one minute of conversation and some intrusively shaky camera work. Perhaps this is some self-referencing comment on film-making? Then Rhythm King and Her Friends perform a song and drive off on a motorcycle while wearing bear heads (much of this footage appears in the video to "No Picture of the Hero!" but I am not sure which came first). Then the film ends. Most odd.

Nonetheless, I quite like the ambition and artfulness of the film, and its attempts to link many expressions of behaviour outside the norm. As one participant says, queer was an attempt to make heterosexuality not the norm.

Working On It screens at Frameline 32 on 21 June in San Francisco.

Britspotting preview

Berlin 10 - 16 April
Cologne 24 - 27 April
Stuttgart 1 - 7 May

Now in its ninth year, the Britspotting festival aims to take the best in British and Irish film to Germany. Launching the programme with a tea party-themed event at the Berlinale in February, the Britspotting team welcomed a throng of filmmakers, programmers and a good number of freeloaders to Homebase in Berlin.

Amid the noshing of scones and clinking of china, new festival director Alex Thiele explained the need to make a splash in culture-savvy Berlin. "We need to increase our audience figures, mainly. Berlin has a festival every week and you're competing with so much stuff here," she said.

With such a plethora of British and Irish film around, programmer Selina Robertson, who used to work at London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, discussed her selection criteria: "quite populist mainstream cinema and first-time features of young filmmakers and then artists' film and video work."

So, this year features work by veteran Stephen Frears, as well as first-time director Joanna Hogg. The Fiennes family is well represented, with director Martha's film Chromophobia showing, while brothers Ralph and Joseph appear in In Bruges and The Escapist, respectively. Shane Meadows' explosive This Is England and Asif Kapadia's Far North are also showing.

Artist/filmmaker Isaac Julien gets a retrospective, as well as a showing of his documentary on mentor Derek Jarman, Derek. Other docs include Hold Me Tight, Let Me Go, directed by Kim Longinotto, and The English Surgeon, directed by Geoffrey Smith.

Robertson explained that she must decide whether a film will travel well. "In terms of comedy, British comedy travels quite well; people are quite used to seeing sort of subtle humour, black comedy... One of the things we have to be careful about is that we don't have a budget to subtitle films so we have to be quite careful about the dialogue... This year I am trying to be quite clear about [whether a] film [is] easy to understand."

Among the short film programmes is Was She There, curated by Club Des Femmes, in which Robertson is involved. "We're going to curate a programme in Berlin comprising artists and filmmakers living in Berlin and London and it's going to be themed around feminist performance practices; it's a whole range of things: pop videos, filmmakers reconstructing things in their lives, feminist re-enactments of situations."

Among the shorts showing is Jules Nurrish's Bend It, inspired by British artists Gilbert and George. Speaking at the tea party, Nurrish explained: "It's kind of based on a performance they did based around the whole idea of living sculptures but I used these two androgynous women who are doing the same kind of dance that Gilbert and George did. It's just kind of screwing around with that kind of idea."

Asked how she feels being exported as British culture to Germany, Nurrish chuckled. "I'm just up for anything. I'm just excited that foreign festivals want to show my film. I love Berlin.... it'll be good to see what the reaction is here."

http://www.britspotting.de

Berlin museums

While waiting for the opening of the Berlinale, I have availed myself of the plethora of museums on offer in Berlin.

First up was the DDR Museum, which I have meant to check out since it opened in the summer of 2006. With late openings seven days a week, it`s pretty accessible and surprisingly busy on a weekday evening visit. Star attractions include a Trabant in the window and a replica DDR living room, complete with the dreaded Black Channel for one`s viewing pleasure. More enjoyable was the DEFA film on housing available in the screening room. Definitely worth a visit.

In a very much more sinister vein is the Stasi Museum, previously headquarters of the security police and now on show to the public to see just what the police were up to for all those years. Behind the bland wallpaper and plush chairs, hideous things went on, and the contrast is startling and disturbing, even now. Most of the complex has been taken over by doctors and Deutschebahn, which lends a peculiar air to the place and it`s easy to walk by without noticing it. Easily worth three hours and there`s an adjacent archive, which has limited opening hours.

On a more cheery note, one can find the Museum for Communication within walking distance of Potsdamer Platz. Current exhibits include photos by Erika Rabau of Berlinales of the past. Famous names on show include Kirk Douglas, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and Shirley MacLaine. One gets a tinge of faded glamour from the array of photos draped over railings around a central courtyard patrolled by robots. Most peculiar. Also showing is Andreas Gox`s exhibit of Berliners at streetlights. But these are not just any streetlights but the fabled Ampelmann lights. Why one would want to devote a year to shooting people at streetlights is anyone`s guess. Anyway, clearly the spirit moved Herr Gox to pursue this project and the photos are, at times, charming.

End of Year

This being the first full year of my blog, I shall give a brief round-up of things that made it enjoyable:

1. Berlin!!!: three visits were not enough but highlights included Ladyfest, the Berlinale, and shooting two films

2. Halloween with Kleenex/Liliput in Zurich: it was delightful to meet three of this pioneering band on their home turf

3. The Gossip at the Barfly: a small gig for this red-hot band

4. Young Marble Giants--Colossal Youth and Collected Works: a timely reissue for these post-punks underlines their brilliance

5. films at festivals: Caramel, Vivere, Brand Upon the Brain and the short Le Lit Froisse were standouts

6. first listens: Las Furias, Kaputt, and Grace and Volupte Van Van are ones to watch in 2008

7. catching up with: Girl Monster and Malaria!'s back catalogue were brilliant late discoveries

8. Tate Modern: Maya Deren's films, the slides, and Doris Salcido's crack made this a great visit for all ages

9. West Ham and Leyton Orient both staying up: hurrah for East London football!

10. also seen/heard: New Young Pony Club, Bat for Lashes, Duke Spirit, Ida Maria, Electrelane (RIP), Milenasong, CSS, Normal Love, The Lives of Others

M is for ...

The independent Berlin label Monika Enterprise is celebrating its 10th anniversary with a hometown gig on 4 November. This seemed an opportune moment to visit label HQ and chat with founder and owner Gudrun Gut, a long-time Berlin mover and shaker.

Having arrived in a still-divided Berlin in the 1970s in order to attend art school (that venerable training ground for musicians--does anyone study art at art school? Anyway...), she has stayed on and continued making music as well as acquiring many quirky artists for the Monika label, Barbara Morgenstern, Quarks and Cobra Killer among them.

Settling down in the kitchen with coffee and cigarettes, Gut, smoky of voice and eye, explained the label ethos: "It is more an artist-orientated label. We do more artist development and every artist has to have their own expression."

In 1997 when the label started, there wasn't much industry interest in the quiet Wohnzimmer scene that produced Morgenstern and Quarks and so Gut, who already ran her reissue label Moabit, turned her attention to new artists. With a handful of releases per year, Monika is a small concern, concentrating on quality rather than quantity.

In addition to solo albums, the label has also produced compilations and the series 4 Women No Cry, with four women artists from different countries. Gut explained, "Each artist has 20 minutes and they have to fit on one album. The idea is we get so many nice demos and lots from women, too, because they know we do lots of female releases."

The internet has proved a fruitful source of talent. "I mostly find the artists on MySpace, actually. It is a really good space for finding new artists."

Recent releases include albums by Milenasong, Chica and the Folder, Michaela Melián and Gut herself. "I was working on it for quite awhile. It was more a question of finishing it 'cause I never had the time." She cleared her throat and continued, "To finish an album you have to have some concentrated time to dive in to it and really finish it."

She works with a small studio set-up: "Oh, it's really simple. A big Mac and a good mic and a good compressor." Highly textured and multi-layered, the record draws from many genres and each song has its own inspiration and dedication. "I wanted it to have not too much of an electronic record. I wanted to have some more... atmosphere."

What with the labels and Ocean Club, her weekly radio show with Thomas Fehlmann, the record was a long time coming but as she explained, Monika pretty much runs itself now. "My assistants can do what I do, more or less, so I could do my own record last year. That was very good. I needed that."

Gut's previous work includes the bands Mania D, Malaria!, and Matador and spoken word collaboration Miasma. The eagle-eyed will spot these names all start with M. She explained: "in the '80s we just did so many projects and to have something in common, we did the M thing. That was really simple. M is for mother, money, moon and it's in the hand. You know, you've got an M in the hand." She held out her hand and one saw that the lines of the palm could be interpreted, by an imaginative art student, as a swirly M. "That's where it comes from," she concluded with a dirty laugh.

Over the last decade Berlin has transformed and Gut welcomes changes to the city, which was something of an island when she arrived. "You couldn't go out. You had the wall around it. You had to pass the borders and it was a pretty tough border crossing.

"Now the last 15 years what's changed the most is business is coming to Berlin. You see people in suits and white collars and we didn't have that before. It's like 'Wow! It's a real city now.' I think it's healthy. It needs that. Because we had it without it and it's a little claustrophobic."

Still, for her Berlin remains a place of boldness and creativity. "Berlin has mostly everything I like because it has this border feeling... The culture is really interesting. It has this underground feel always, kind of daring in the arts. I like that."

Ten Years of Monika, Volksbühne am Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz, Berlin, 4 November, with live performances by: Chica and the Folder, Gudrun Gut, Michaela Melián, Barbara Morgenstern + short appearances by Quarks, Cobra Killer and Masha Qrella.

Michaela Melián is included in the art exhibit Same same, but different, exploring "minimal deviations from the status quo". Curated by Lena Ziese, it is on at Jet, Memhardstrasse 1, Berlin, through 10 November.