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Beiträge
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Heute gekauft, erster Eindruck: ***1/2 scheint hochgegriffen zu sein, aber mal sehn, mehr irgendwann.
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Highlights von Rolling-Stone.de„Helter Skelter“ entstand, als die Beatles vollkommen betrunken waren
Fesselnde Bankraub-Serien auf Netflix: Achtung, das ist ein Überfall!
Die 50 besten Doppel-Alben aller Zeiten
Alle Schlagzeuger von The Who: Keith Moon, Zak Starkey und Co.
Die 100 besten Hardrock- und Metal-Alben: die komplette Liste
Der wilde, aber romantische Westen: „Der mit dem Wolf tanzt“
Werbungich habe es zusammen mit einer anderen Platte heute auch gekauft und ich mag keine Sternchen vergeben, habe allerdings auch keinen wirklichen Vergleich zu anderen Lou Reed Alben. Ich kann nur sagen, das meine Erwartungen nicht unterboten wurden. Ich find das Album gut.
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... Toleranz fetzt! ...Höre das Teil gerade nochmal (wird in Zukunft nicht mehr soo oft vorkommen) und nein, muss nicht sein.
Die Songs sind größtenteils nicht besonders, die Sprech-/Erzählteile geben mir nichts, als Konzeptalbum funktioniert „The Raven“ dummerweise auch nur gelegentlich – der große musikalische Zusammenhang bleibt viel zu oft aus – und warum bitte muss Lou Reed, der mal so unglaublich coole – also, wirklich im Sinne von verdammt cool – Musik machte, jetzt im fortgeschrittenen Alter plötzlich teilweise so furchtbar angestrengt und scheinbar todernst klingen (ganz schlimm z.B. im nach der Overture einleitenden „Edgar Allan Poe“ oder bei „Blind Rage“ – bei diesem Stück musste ich irgendwie an eine schlechtfrisierte PowerMetal-Band der eher schwachen Sorte denken). So angestrengt und ernst, dass man die Bilder im Booklet, die Reed mit einem mächtigen Schwert posend zeigen, auch ernst nehmen muss und so sind die ganz schön peinliche.
Auch diese neue Version von „Perfect Day“ hätte nicht sein müssen. Klingt anfangs noch interessant, aber spätestens beim zweiten Mal hören, nervt es nur!
Vielleicht **1/2
Mein erstes in diesem Jahr erschienenes Album. Geht ja toll los, 2003! :roll:
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Also, ich will mal nicht so sein:
„Vanishing Act“ und das finale „Guardian Angel“ sind wirklich schön und überhaupt meistens wenn es ruhig zugeht, ist es schon okay, aber trotzdem…
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Ich sagte ja schon an anderer Stelle, daß ich dem neuen Werk etwas ängstlich entgegensehe. Ehrlicherweise muß ich sagen, daß ich es mir immer noch nicht gekauft habe, und das als längjähriger LOUnatic.
Nun denn, heute habe ich eine sehr ausführliche – und in meinen Augen sehr aussagekräftige – Rezension von einem anderen LOUnatic gefunden. Viel zu lesen, aber sehr interessant.The Raven
Lou Reed, 2003random thoughts by Björn Waller
“I’d harbored hope that the intelligence that once inhabited
novels or films would ingest rock. I was, perhaps, wrong.”
– Lou Reed, 1975
Lou Reed makes an album based on a Robert Wilson play based on the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe. A double CD featuring droves of guest artists, where a large part of the album is made up of readings of Poe’s texts. And, of course, a lot of people draw the conclusion that this is an album ABOUT Edgar Allan Poe. But it’s not – at least not JUST that. Others will undoubtedly be confused by the fact that it’s not a straight rock’n’roll album. (The world of rock music is, in a lot of ways, very narrow-minded. You build up an image of an artist, and anything that departs from that image is seen as a change for the worse – and if the map doesn’t match reality, follow the map. Artists who are praised for having been unpredictable and uncommercial when they were young are often ridiculed when they stay that way even though they’re old enough to know better. We want our rebels to stay where we last saw them.)
A double album with lyrics based on the writings of a 19th century poet is, of course, very pretentious – the ugliest word that can ever be used about a rock album. But what if you can back up the pretentions with ability? Whether the future will hold Lou Reed’s work in the same high esteem as Poe’s is up to history to determine, but at no point here do we get to doubt that Lou himself thinks so. And when he’s ALMOST as big a genius as he thinks, it carries quite a long way indeed.
”They circle and return to the same spot, circle and return to the self-same spot”, Willem Dafoe recites on the opening monologue before he hands us the key to the entire album:
“The play is the tragedy MAN, and its hero – the conqueror WORM.”
How’s that for a motto? We’re all going to be just dirt in the ground, like the song says. And Lou is indeed returning to familiar hunting grounds, even if he does it in a way he hasn’t done before it still feels in a way like a circle is being completed. It’s hardly a coincidence that several songs seem to nod in the direction of Berlin and Metal Machine Music, two albums that scared off a lot of the record-buying public when they came. Berlin, the supposed follow-up to the hugely successful Transformer, was an ultra-depressed story of drugs, abuse and suicide that almost smothered Lou’s career in its cradle. Later on, it’s often been mentioned as one of Lou’s best albums ever. That’s an honour that has never been bestowed on Metal Machine Music, the double album containing one single prolonged electronic shriek of multitracked guitar feedback that came out in 1975 and promptly buried Lou’s career as a mainstream artist. Depending on which Lou you choose to believe, it was either a serious attempt to compose something like what LaMonte Young and John Cale were doing in the 60s, a conscious attempt to annoy as many people as possible, or a joke. The fact that Lou in early 2002 participated in the first live performances of Metal Machine Music by an orchestra (a German one, of course) seems to indicate what his current opinion of the album is, and its appearances here seem perfectly logical. But there’s a big difference when it comes to The Raven; those albums were released in the mid-70s, when Lou had somehow (and no one can have been more surprised than Lou himself) ended up on charts all over the world and had both single and LP hits. In 2003, Lou is very far from any sort of top 10. After a couple of musically moderately (and commercially not at all) successful albums, this might be Lou’s last chance to restore his former glory, to save his position as one of the GREAT survivors of the 60s. And he couldn’t give a fuck. Instead, he releases an album that is guaranteed to be hated by everyone looking for a new “Walk On The Wild Side” or even a new “Dirty Blvd.”. This is the almost pervertedly ambitious Artist Reed who’s at work, who has no interest in making another Rock’n’roll Animal and just wants to do this.
So for starters, don’t make the mistake of approaching this as a conventional rock’n’roll album. Think more along the lines of Tom Waits’ three albums based on Robert Wilson’s plays, Black Rider, Alice and Blood Money. It’s not supposed to be played in the background. It is, as Lou wrote about New York 14 years ago, a “movie for your ears”. You either swallow it, curl up inside it, let the arguing voices fuck with you and paint pictures in red and black on your retina from the inside, or you leave it alone. No middle ground. If you buy into that concept, this is the most rewarding, most touching – and most disturbing – album Lou has released at least since 1992’s Magic And Loss. It’s an album that can really put ideas in your head and shake you right down to the bone.
There’s a paradox here; it’s the sort of record that maybe should have been a project ”on the side”, but which demands the artist’s complete attention to be successful. A young man who pumps out one record per year might be excused for making an album like this since you know there’s going to be a “real” album next year, and for that reason, he would be making the record in his spare time with his left hand. But only an aging man who is beginning to see the finish line ahead of him, and knows that his own actions have probably brought him closer to it than he should be, could have made THIS album, and for that very reason he must commit himself to it 100%. The young man who said ”I don’t worry about my own problems or attitudes, ’cause other peoples’ are so much funnier” has spent a lot of studio time in the last 20 years psycho-analysing himself. (OK, be fair, he has said that the songs are not necessarily about him, but when the same themes appear on album after album, I’ll draw whatever conclusions I damn well please.) And he keeps delving into the same themes here; he’s passing middle age, it’s too late for a lot of things, and it’s time to… not sum up, he’s not dead yet, but he knows that the worm will win in the end and he’ll be sure to speak his mind before it does. Poe’s words fit the job perfectly, especially after Lou has gone over them with a red marker pen.
People have made records from Poe’s works before. Aside from Tolkien and Orwell there’s hardly any writer who has inspired as many songs as the little poison mixer from Boston. So far, nothing unusual, and if the album only tried to re-create Poe’s stories it would be fairly pointless. But it doesn’t stop there. Lou is, as he’s pointed out in interviews, not interested in talking about Poe. He’s not a scholar in American literature, he couldn’t give a damn about the person Poe, he’s only interested in the emotions his stories evoke. So what he does is not just to put Poe’s words in his own mouth, but just as much to put his own words in Poe’s mouth. It’s as much a record about Lou Reed as a record about Edgar Allan Poe. That’s especially obvious in Lou’s new material – “Change”, with its rage against age and decay (”Your ass starts to sag, your balls shrivel up, your cock swallowed up in its sac”) is certainly more 60-year old Reed than Poe, who died at the age of 40 – but it’s just as effective when Lou re-writes Poe into something of his own.
I’m not going to claim I’m completely happy with The Raven. As a long-time Reed fan – 18 years going on 19 – my expectations/demands on Lou are pretty high. And it’s not perfect. The opening track “Edgar Allan Poe” may well be the worst lyric Lou has penned in a very long time – “This is the story ’bout Edgar Allan Poe, not exactly your boy next door”? Please Lou, turn off The Simpsons. And not every single poetry reading on the album feels absolutely necessary. But considering that he spends the biggest part of the 2 hours the album lasts making the listener rethink his/her preconceptions about Lou Reed, he succeeds astonishingly well.
It’s easy to become suspicious when the buzz about a new album mostly talks about guest artists. And there’s quite a few of them here – Bowie, Laurie Anderson, Ornette Coleman, the McGarrigle Sisters, actors like Steve Buscemi, Amanda Plummer, Willem Dafoe and Elizabeth Ashley – to the point where Lou himself ends up in the background for long periods. For instance, the stretch between “Perfect Day” and “Broadway Song” may (at least on the single CD) seem very long if you just want to listen to Lou Reed. But in my head, especially on the 2CD version which has that whole radio play thing going, it just sounds right. Lou’s role in the play is that of the narrator, who comes on between scenes and sums up, explains. And with very few exceptions (Bowie) the guest appearances make perfect sense. On “I Wanna Know”, the Blind Boys Of Alabama force Lou to pull out every ounce of power he’s got left in his old vocal chords, and he has nothing to be ashamed of there. Having 72-year-old Ornette Coleman play sax on “Guilty” is not just a way to fulfil a boyhood dream for Lou, who has mentioned “Lonely Woman” as one of his favourite songs ever and claims to have based his odd guitar style on Ornette’s sax style, but also twists and turns a song that might otherwise have seemed a bit stiff into something lively, bouncy and damn near danceable. I’m also really impressed by the singer Antony, who I’d never heard of before, who sings back-up on several songs and also gets to turn “Perfect Day” inside-out.
It may be tempting to buy the single CD and ignore the extra material on the double – after all, it’s mainly actors reading poetry and a few instrumentals by Lou. But actually, the readings are needed – they’re as much a part of this album as the songs. The few readings that appear on the single CD feel mostly annoying, but on the couble they make much more sense, since there’s room for both Poe and Reed here, side by side. Plus, there’s a lot of interconnections between the different pieces. “Hop Frog” makes no sense without “Every Frog Has Its Day”, “Broadway Song” is utterly pointless without “The Cask”. With the actors alternately screaming, whispering, hissing or babbling on top of each other, the album occasionally – like on “The City In The Sea” or “The Tell Tale Heart” – sounds like a full-length version of the old Velvet Underground oddity “The Murdery Mystery” from 1969.
But despite the guest appearances, there’s never any doubt that this is a Lou Reed album. The lyrics, the mood, the rage against the unchangeable, that’s all Lou. But there are two other persons who leave a distinct impression on the album, not (just) by performing on it, but in its actual concept. The first one is Robert Wilson, with whom Lou wrote the play POEtry that the album is based on. Like on the Tom Waits albums based on Robert Wilson collaborations, it has led to a very theatrical feel, a linear story – yes, a (cross yourselves, punk fans) concept album. Of course, this is nothing new for Lou, but it has rarely been more obvious than on The Raven.
The other person, perhaps unavoidably, is Lou’s better half. This may be the album that divides Lou Reed fans in two camps; the ones who believe Laurie Anderson is Lou’s Kathleen Brennan, and the ones who believe she is his Yoko Ono. If you have not followed Laurie Anderson since “O Superman” 20 years ago, she has continued making albums in that no-man’s-land between famous and unknown that Lou almost seems to wish for with this album. Lou has been living with Laurie for something like 8-10 years now, and has obviously taken something from her – something which is even more obvious on the recording of a show they did in Venice last summer, just the two of them trading songs and spoken-word pieces, covering each other and playing around with various noise effects until it could barely even be described as a concert anymore – let alone a rock’n’roll show. The Raven, with all its readings over music, seems to have more in common with Laurie’s live album The Ugly One With The Jewels than it does with Sally Can’t Dance. But at the same time, it feels like the logical continuation of a style Lou has been dabbling in ever since the Velvet Underground days. Hell, what’s with “The Gift”? “Street Hassle”? ”A Dream”?
And they circle and return to the same spot. The same themes keep re-emerging. Thoughts, alternating between the humorous and the panic-stricken, about aging and especially bodily decay.
”The only thing constantly changing is change, and it’s always for the worse!”
Worrying about not having the time to do all the things you want to do. The fear of being discarded, buried alive (a favourite theme of Poe’s, which is used a lot here). And the eternal questions:
”Why do we do what we should not? Why do we love what we cannot have? Why do we have a passion for exactly the wrong thing?”
Again, this is nothing new for Lou, who has been struggling with addiction and identity problems since he was young. On his last album, Ecstasy, he released the downright psychotic 18-minute vomit “Like A Possum”, where he tried to purge himself of all the demons that have haunted him for so long.
”I got a hole in my heart the size of a truck
It won’t be filled by a one-night-fuck…
You know me, I like to drink a lot
And carry on, don’t know which self will show up…
You know me, I like to dance a lot
With different selves who cancel out each other
I’m the only one left standing!”
The theme of different identities struggling with each other for domination is something he returns to here. Lou could have stopped evolving and tried living off old merits a long time ago. Instead, he spent the 1990s painting himself more and more into a corner; his albums haven’t sounded much like the Lou Reed the large audiences seems to want – the glam rocker, the rock’n’roll animal, or the political poet of New York. His concert have often featured mostly material from the last few albums, with a couple of old hits thrown in for good measure. In the artistic fight between being an entertainer and being true to your own visions, he has chosen the second alternative almost every single time. This has hardly helped his career, even if it probably helped him. And this is another recurring feature of The Raven. As one of the last monologues on the album concludes:
“Businessmen – you’re not worth shitting on!”
The title, itself, is perfectly chosen (and much better than the original title, POEtry). In spite of its size and intelligence, the raven is not a mighty, majestic bird. It feeds on carrion, it’s a spy – Hugin and Munin of the ancient Norse mythology were ravens carrying news and rumours to the gods – and, as in Poe’s poem and this entire album, a nasty motherfucker who perches in a corner where you don’t notice him at first, but once you do you can’t overlook him. Sits there, staring and whispering unpleasantries, reminding you of all your shortcomings and mistakes, grinning joylessly while he talks of all the things it’s too late to do anything about – horrible not because they are lies, but because they are the truth. You may rage at him, but you can’t shut him up.
„Prophet!“ said I, „thing of evil!- prophet still- if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bend above us- by that god we both ignore
Tell this soul with sorrow laden- willful and destructive intent
how had lapsed a pure heart lady to the greediest of needs
Sweaty, arrogant, dickless liar…!”
The long intro gives the album something of a slow start, but if you let it it will burrow in under your cranium and start DOING things to you. From “The Fall Of The House Of Usher”, where Roderick is driven insane by the death of his twin sister/twin soul, into “The Bed”, with an acoustic guitar picking over a menaching cello as old Lou puts young Lou’s words in the mouth of old Poe grieving for his dead wife. In this despair, we find “Perfect Day” – but it’s a completely different “Perfect Day” than the idyllic tale it has been before. Sung by a disembodied, ghost-like voice (Antony) over a sparse synthesizer background, it becomes not so much a happy memory of a sunny day in the park as a nightmare, the kind of nightmare that scares you not through its terror but through its beauty; the knowledge that it will never be like that again, that love is dead and buried and that nothing remains. And, logically, this takes us to the title track.
”The Raven”, the monologue of loneliness crushed by sorrow (”reverie gone astray”, if you will). Willem Dafoe reads it with the obsession it demands, Lou has updated the lyrics to something even darker, even more nightmarish. Lenore is no longer an innocent maiden unfairly taken by death – she’s a “forever silenced whore”, hated because the narrator misses her so, “I love she who hates me more!” In Poe she’s “lost”, in Reed she’s just “base”. It is hinted that she died of an overdose, and that the narrator is on his way to the same fate in his attempts to forget her.
The second act begins with the completely unexpected ”Broadway Song” (”Show business, it’s just a wonderful thing…”), sung by Steve Buscemi like a really kitschy piano lounge ballad. The “good ol’ Poe” featured here is an entertainer, the burlesque poet who writes somewhat chilling stories about “the mysteries of life”, with so many twinkles in his eye that he can barely see anymore. In spirit, if not in sound, it seems to be a distant cousin of Lou’s self-deprecating monologues on Take No Prisoners (“Watch me turn into Lou Reed before your very eyes!”). The artist who has become a parody of himself, who puts up a brave face – hey, it pays the rent. It may be one of the weakest tracks on the album, but it still has a role to play. A bit later Buscemi’s old Poe reappears in “The Cask”, where the different selves meet face to face for the big showdown. The old entertainer Poe is lured into a trap by the young artist Poe, who hates what he has become –
”I will punish with impunity, I will fuck him up the ass and piss in his face, I will redress the wrong!”
– they fight and Poe murders Poe, gets him drunk and bricks him up in the basement. Different selves cancel out each other…
We get ”The Tell-Tale Heart” with multitudes of voices speaking, screaming, whispering, shouting all over each other, finishing each others’ sentences in the story of the young man who kills his old uncle and is then driven insane by guilt, interrupted by two songs; “Blind Rage”, one of the best rockers on the album, and the pounding “Burning Embers”. In both songs, Lou seems to take on the role of the old – murdered! – man, with a furious old man’s voice from beyond the grave.
But the songs that work the best are, unusually enough, the ballads – which are often piano-based. It’s the first time since the 80s that keyboards have had a prominent role on a Lou Reed album – yet another common trait with Berlin. “Vanishing Act” and “Science Of The Mind”, two pure piano ballads in funeral tempo where Lou also sings better than he has in a long time, and which don’t necessarily sound like typical Lou reed songs (think of the title track on Berlin or “Open House” on Songs For Drella). The simply beautiful acoustic number “Call On Me”, where Laurie Anderson’s monologue sounds like an anti-raven, a ghost voice trying to comfort rather than taunt. Not that, for instance, “Blind Rage”, the furious “Change” or the funk-jazz that is “Guilty” are bad songs, but it seems like Lou has saved the BIG sentiments and expressions for the slower songs.
It all finally comes together in ”Who Am I”, one of the best songs Lou has recorded in ages. It’s a huge, magnificent song full of electric guitars and string arrangements, with Lou singing one of the more demanding melodies he has attempted in recent years. And those lyrics…
Sometimes I wonder, who am I?
The world seeming to pass me by
A younger man now getting old
I have to wonder what the rest of life will holdI hold a mirror to my face
There are some lines that I could trace
To memories of loving you
A passion that breaks reason in twoI have to think and stop me now
If reminisces make you frown
One thinks of what one hoped to be –
And then faces reality…”Who Am I” obviously means a lot to Lou; he played it live on his last world tour three years ago, and it also serves as an excellent summary of what he’s been trying to say over the past few years. They are words from a man who, at 60, still has not found his place in the universe, still has not settled down, still has not stopped asking questions.
Sometimes I wonder, who am I?
Who made the trees? Who made the sky?
Who made the storms? Who made heartbreak?
I wonder how much life I can take…
If it’s wrong to to think on this
To hold the dead past in your fist
Why were we given memories?
Let us lose our mind and be set free!
The album could have ended there, on a question mark. Instead we get another few minutes of pure madness – “The Courtly Orangutans”, where voices yell in your ear, into “Fire Music”, where Metal Machine Music finally gets sick of being relegated to background noise, tears itself loose and sits screaming in the middle of the room for three minutes before Lou shoos it back out the door. The song was recorded on September 14th 2001, while Ground Zero still burned, and the huge wall of noise, screaming electronics and guitars say more about anger and sorrow than twenty Springsteen albums.
And then we get to the end, with the beautiful “Guardian Angel”. And even if it’s not a completely positive parting note, it still seems to establish a firm base for moving on.
I have a guardian angel, I keep him in my head
When I’m afraid and alone, I call him to my bed
I have a guardian angel, he keeps bad things from me
The only way to ruin it would be for me not to trust me
I have a guardian angel, he’s often saved my life
Through malevolent storms and crystal drums, the angel on my right
Has lifted me up and set me down, always showing me what’s right
And if my instinct proved me wrong, the angel set it right
I have a guardian angel, I keep him in my head
When I’m having nightmares, he shows me dreams instead
I have a ring, I have a dress, I have an empty shell
By the books below teacups, I’ve kept a kind of hell
Panic and anxiety so often in my head
But I have a guardian angel who took care of me instead
The champagne cork, the night light owl, a raven and a duck
The seed of pining parents, and your despairing love
Love and luck both have charmed lives, can change all things about
I have a guardian angel, that’s what this is all about
I have a guardian angel, I keep him in my head
When I’m alone and become afraid, he saved my life instead.
Like on the closing track ”Hello It’s Me” on Songs For Drella, it feels like Lou is speaking directly to us after being “in character” for most of the album. In a way it’s an excuse, in a way an explanation; the guardian angel is Lou himself, who by always following a guiding star all of his own has somehow managed to survive and outlive both inner and outer demons. It’s an answer to people who want him to write “Walk On The Wild Side Part II”: it’s not necessarily that he doesn’t want to, but he can’t, he can only go where the angel points and make the best of it. And that’s the end of the album. We have spent two hours travelling through a very personal hell, and this is probably the most positive ending we can hope for – The Raven’s version of the cry of “O HOLY MORNING!” after 18 minutes of soul-searching on “Like A Possum”.
As our rock stars age, the men are separated from the boys. To demand of a 60-year-old man that he either continue making the same kind of music he did when he was 25 or pack it in is not just cynical, it’s downright stupid. As with all of us, the question is not IF they age, but HOW they do it. If we ever loved Lou Reed (or Dylan, or Neil Young, or Patti Smith, or whoever you want) for putting in words exactly how we felt at a certain time, for being HUMAN, then we can only be truly disappointed when they give up trying to do that. Dylan Thomas famously wrote ”Do not go gently into that good night – rage, rage against the dying of the light”. John Cale may have been the one to put it to music, but The Raven – all its pretentions and guest artists notwithstanding – has Lou Reed doing precisely that.
Hoffentlich hab ich Euch jetzt nicht mit so viel Text erschlagen… :oops:
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Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it...:-x doch AUAAA!
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"Gimme deathpunk baby, and I like it"also ich höre auf nihil und lasse die finger davon.
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seit wann machst du denn sowas, dead?
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but I did not.seit wann machst du denn sowas, dead?
wollte es eh nicht nicht tun und konnte dem nihil halt so mal mal ein bischen…. naja nenne es sympathy zeigen.
huuu huuuuu--
und, schon das dream theater-gesamtwerk zugelegt? hu hu – uuuuuuuuuuuuh…
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but I did not.und, schon das dream theater-gesamtwerk zugelegt? hu hu – uuuuuuuuuuuuh…
oooooooooohh help me dear doctor
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und, schon das dream theater-gesamtwerk zugelegt? hu hu – uuuuuuuuuuuuh…
Nein, auf keinen Fall die „Awake“ und die „Falling into Infinity“ kaufen, ansonsten okay. :D
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Ich habe sie jetzt einmal gehört und bin noch nicht so ganz schlüssig, was ich davon halten soll. Auf jeden Fall sind einige klasse Songs drauf wie z.B. das nur mit Piano und Violine eingespielte wunderschöne ‚Vanishing act‘. Auch sehr gut, das rumpelnde ‚Edgar Allen Poe‘, ‚Who am I‘ oder das abschließende ‚Guardian angel‘. Muß ich mir aber noch ein paar mal anhören, aber ich denke, wer Lou Reed mag kann sich zumindest die Einzel-CD zulegen, ob es wirklich die Doppel CD sein muß sei mal dahingestellt.
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Wann kommt Horst Lichter mit dem Händlerkärtchen und knallt mich ab?Hast Du denn die Doppel-CD oder die einfache?
Fragt Volker
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Die meiste Zeit geht dadurch verloren, dass man nicht zu Ende denkt. Alfred Herrhausen (1930-89)Die ‚Doppelte‘. Wenn schon, denn schon, habe ich mir gedacht. Erfordert natürlich viel Zeit bei einer Spielzeit von über zwei Stunden. Was mir fehlt sind die Texte. Die hätte man der sonst recht ansprechend aufgemachten CD ruhig auch noch beilegen können. Es ist nicht so ganz einfach, die zum Teil recht schnell gesprochenen Texte allein durch das Zuhören zu verstehen. Welche Ausgabe hast Du? Weißt Du, ob es im Netz irgendwo die Texte gibt?
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Wann kommt Horst Lichter mit dem Händlerkärtchen und knallt mich ab?
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