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Sheer incredible: Austria seen from space! Even more unbelievable: Austropop music...

Hast Du auch da zugehört? Stirnrunzeln, diese Stirnrunzeln, denkt man sich wohl, wenn man wieder einmal ein Bild eines sogenannten Austropoppers auf einem CD-Cover sieht. War der denn nicht einmal jünger? Klang das nicht einmal frischer? Oder ist alles nur durch die Erinnerung verklärt? Es gibt Gustostückerln, es gibt Schmankerln, es gibt andere dem Norddeutschen unverständliche Ausdrücke und vor allem gab es die Zeit vor der Neuen Deutschen Welle, die einem noch gut durch das oft raunzende Geplärr, aber in der eigenen Sprache, geläufig ist. "Dann muaß i a paar oide Hadern hörn," manchmal braucht man diese "Überdosis G'fühl" des gleichnamigen STS Liedes. Sitzt man so - viel zu selten - mit den von damals noch übrigen Freunden beim Kartenspiel, kann es schon einmal passieren, dass sie einem aufstößt wie ein Knoflbrot, die Erinnerung an Ambros, Danzer, Cornelius und einen noch schüchternen Fendrich.


Did you listen (or belong) to this as well? Frown, that frown, you may think, when you see a picture of a so-called Austro-popper on a CD cover again after a while. Hadn't he been younger? Didn't that sound fresher at one point of time? Or is it all just glorified by memory? There are goodies, there are delicacies, there are other incomprehensible expressions, and above all there was a time before the "New German Wave (aka Neue Deutsche Welle)", which is still kept in good memory for its whining bawling in our own dialect. "Then I must hear these old, familiar tunes," sometimes you need that "Overdose Emotion" of the same STS song. If you sit together with remaining friends from those days playing cards - way too seldomly, it can happen that it all comes back up like the aftertaste of garlic bread, the memory of Ambros, Danzer, Cornelius and a still shy Fendrich.

In Memory of Austropop

Overdose Emotion. It just felt appropriate to start this article with its original German introduction, reminiscenting of that "Overdose Emotion," which may resurface once in a while still when playing cards & eating garlic bread with old friends. Occasionally, you would catch yourself thinking of good old times, playing "Bauernschnapsen (Farmer-Schnappsing?)" or listening to the related tune "I drah zua" about closing the game. It just felt good sitting together with a Hirter Beer or a White Spritzer (watered down wine) in the hand and play cards until one team had lost their "honour". Which was usually at stake instead of that round of liquor or Schnapps that gave the farmer's version of the "Sixty-six" card game its name. Sometimes we had some apricot brandy along with it, that "Marillener", which you usually can only pronounce correctly after having one. There was so much time to spend together. Incredible. And of course at a department outing in Michigan we would have fun on the bus playing the card game Euchre, while sipping a Bloody Mary, but that is a different story...

World Famous. It is always a good time to remember the one or the other song from the 1970's, when - in the wake of the '68 movement - the local popular music scene dared to, yes, dared to sing in Viennese, Styrian or whatsoever kind of local dialect. Following heights in the maelstrom of the "New German Wave" of the 1980's, as if exhausted, the popularity of Austropop started to vanish into thin air. Let's now examine the rise and fall of a movement that brought out songs, which were "World famous in Austria," as by the ironic title of a 2006 TV documentary. The whole production was put under a collage of local icons, capacities of pop music, culture and popular identity, composed in the style of the Sgt. Pepper's album. Which is why Beatles song lyrics come to my mind: "They've been going in and out of style, but they're guaranteed to raise a smile!"


Rise of the Dialect Wave

Musical Movement. For decades, if not centuries, colloquial language had been only used in songs sung blue in wine taverns and cabarets (whereas in German being blue means tipsy). Then it was time for a change. The birth of what could be called popular-music in Austrian dialect, a collection of varying music styles under the umbrella of "Austropop," took place in the early 1970's. Cabaret-legend Gerhard Bronner had the innovative idea to combine Viennese dialect with modern hit music, and from these two elements he formed the song of "The Bell that rings 24 hours (Die Glock'n, 1970)," which signalled the beginning of a new era. The performer Marianne Mendt won Eva-Maria Kaiser's annual talent contest "Show Chance" of the radio station Austria 3, in short "Oe3," which had been established in 1967 to entertain a young audience. The macabre co-production "Jones was it from No.3, he always did seem weird to me (Da Hofa, 1971)" by Ambros-Prokopetz was one of the first examples of independent national pop music detached from the usual English mainstream. A man of the first hour was also Arik Brauer with "They've built a house (Sie hab'n a Haus baut, 1971)."

Pinch Me. Peter Cornelius won a TV talent contest with his "I live on a cloud, that is my own world (Die Wolk'n, 1973)," followed by other unusual wordplays like "I'm not a jumping jack, who makes a fool of himself (Hampelmann, 1974)." Johann Hausner in the meantime composed Ambros-classics, from the melancholy "Human I want to stay, not as a corpse I want to die (A Mensch moecht i bleib'n, 1974)" to the snappy "Pinch me, I must be dreaming (Zwickt's me, 1974)," performed in the television show "Spotlight," where the presenter Peter Rapp slapped the singer, according to the lyrics: "But I believe pinching doesn't help, couldn't anybody slap me instead. Thank you, now it's clear to me: It is true, it is true..." Wolfgang Ambros would sing songs that an entire generation of young people knew by heart. Also his long-term companion, George "Schurli" Danzer was already there. After being outed as singer of the bum-single about having a "Smoke (Tschik, 1972)," his cheerfully ironic "Yeh, look... what's the naked man up to in the Cafe Havelka? (Joe Schau, 1975)" made the Cafe Hawelka in downtown Vienna immortal. The Hawelka is also where - according to Stermann & Grissemann - Austropop singer Georg Danzer had the following legendary dialogue with a waitress. As she served him his cup of coffee, the waitress started the conversation: "Es sieht nach Regen aus - It looks like rain." Says Danzer: "Ja, aber wenn man genauer hinschaut, stellt man fest, dass es doch Kaffee ist - Yes, but when you look more closely, you detect that it is coffee, really." Wilfried occupied the category of Alpine rock, by mixing folk, yodelling and rock music elements. His 1974 song "s'Katherl - the Kathy" contained the legendary text line: "Fort in der Frueh, heim auf d'Nacht, so hat's mein Vatern g'macht. Fort auf d'Nacht, heim in der Frueh, so machen's mir - Gone in the morning, home at night, my father did alright. Out in the night, home in the morning, is what we're doing." Later, in his 1981 hit record "Highdelbeeren" he screamed that from now on he would only eat hot "blueberries."

Seven Days. Did it ever occurr to you, how many songs there are about weekdays? U2, the Rolling Stones, Simon & Garfunkl, and many others would dedicate a piece of song & lyric to their favourite day... except for one. We hear about "Just another manic Monday", we say Good-bye "Ruby Tuesday", we may wake up on "Wednesday Morning 3 AM" next to our soft breathing beloved one, and how many of us could admit as early as Monday "I have Friday on my mind", looking forward to spend "Saturday in the Park (I think it was the 4th of July)", until we all can't believe the news today on another "Sunday, Bloody Sunday". Wilfried's song "I like Donnerstag (I like Thursday)" summarizes the unsatisfactory situation and fills the remaining gap: "About every day of the week there is a song, not about Thursday, that would be wrong." Finally, there is a song by Craig David, which manages to mention all the "7 Days": "I met this girl on Monday, took her for a drink on Tuesday..." Anyway, as the German hard rock band Victory had put it: "Seven days without you make one weak!"

The Fire of Karaoke

Quite OK. Usually it all starts with something sparking an interest. What may follow is some excitement while getting in gear, feeling energy and tension that seethes under the surface. And then... fire! Being electrified, being red-hot is one of these feelings you don't want to have missed, in German "being fire and flame - Feuer und Flamme sein." It sometimes reflected in these sparkling eyes that allow a glance at feelings otherwise hidden deep inside. Another one of these unbelievably cool dialect songs, "leiwand - quite OK" as we used to say, is a cover version by a Viennese singer calling himself Ostbahn Kurti.

Car Fever. The original lyrics of Bruce Springsteen's song "Fire" (not to be confused with "Ooooh... I'm on Fire" from his "Born in the U.S.A."-breakthrough album) go like this: "I'm drivin' in my car, turn on the radio, pulling you close, you just say no. Say you don't like it, but I know you're a liar. When we kiss... ohhh, fire!" Which in the German version "Feuer" is slightly modified to: "Gestern nacht in mein Wagen, Du und i endlich allein. Ich streich Dir durch's Haar, Du sagst leise na. Heite ned, bitte wort noch. Aber ich weiss, Dir geht's wie mir. Du brennst wie i... uuhhh, Feeeiia!" It translates as following: "Last night in my car,you and me alone at last. I brush through your hair, you whisper no. Not tonight, please wait still. But I know, you burn like me... ouuu, Fiiire!" The earthy interpretation became a hit in the mid 1980's, a milestone of Austrian pop music.

Bar Ban Threat. And then there was our own tribute to all those classics... in our first and only karaoke singing session. Of course, we were not quite as good as our karaoke-trained Asian colleagues in Bangkok performing "Yue Liang Dai Biao Wo De Xin (The Moon represents my Heart)," a song typical for the Mid-Autumn Festival, also called Moon (Cake) Festival. Also our song selection slightly differed: "You don't understand me (it seems to me now, you don't listen somehow)" is an Ambros song about missed communication in relationships, talking with no one listening and drifting apart. Peter Cornelius' "Excuse me, I know you (aren't you the little one that I already liked when I was a boy)" is about meeting the adored girl from school days again. Both songs we would croak in the Millenium Tower's karaoke bar after work as a quartet calling ourselves "the Fantastic Four", a truly "Once-in-a-Millenium" performance. In a second round, we'd give Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind" a try and the German New Wave rap from rolling up the sleeves and spitting into the hands to increase the "Gross National Product." People almost threw us money... to stop. Why does our karaoke adventure remind me of another Ambros song? "In every pub in town with the slightest level by far, I got a ban from the bar... Lokalverbot!" It had been the first time we shocked the public with our performance. Would it remain the last time?

A new Talent: Her last name translating into Storm Trooper, Christina Stuermer - here signing autographs at a shopping mall - didn't just climb charts "In dieser Stadt - In this Town."

Riding on the New German Wave

White Blues. In the early 1980's, the local music scene was booming. Rainhard Fendrich regularly contributed summer hits, starting with "Strada del Sole (Ital. for: Street of the Sun, 1981)," which contained the line "I got no Italian Lira and no identity papers" after his wallet and girlfriend had been stolen during a vacation in Italy. Of course there was also Fendrich's local swimming pool hymn "Toooopless (Ooooben Ohne, 1982)." Peter Cornelius ran into his high school crush with the words "Excuse me, I know you (Du entschuldige, i kenn di, 1980)" and made the bold statement "There is white Blues" in the song "All of Vienna got the Blues (Ganz Wien hat den Blues, 1982)." Ulli Bäer covered Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman (Schoenes Madl, 1982)" and Ludwig Hirsch translated Elvis' "Love Me (Gell, du magst mi, 1983)." Hirsch, theater stage actor and interpret of "dark-grey songs", reportedly rejected the expression Austropop, as it always reminded him of "Austropopsch - Austropbutt". English teacher and Rock Professor Reinhold Bilgeri whispered "It's a Video Life we are living (Video Life, 1981)" before he admitted "I'm In Love with Two Ladies (1991)." Actor Franz Morak invented the excessive Morak'n'Roll and gasped "Winners look different (Sieger sehen anders aus, 1983)," only to resurface in the year 2000 as State Secretary of Art and Cultural Affairs within the Austrian government. Even jack-of-all-trades and -arts Andre Heller performed Bob Dylan's "Forever Young (Fuer Immer Jung, 1983)" in duet with W.Ambros, before he produced world tours of cultural events such as "Africa! Africa!" or the "Divinely Gifted Bodies" of the Chinese National Circus.

Rustic Cabaret. Joesi Prokopetz and Manfred Tauchen, who had teamed-up with Ambros for the rustic play of the "Watzmann" mountain calling, in 1983 co-founded the band "DOeF" (short for Deutsch-Oesterreichisches Feingefuehl, i.e. German-Austrian delicacy) with members of the German New Wave music group "Ideal." Their music-cabaret included successes with the Unknown Flying Object called "Codo" (short for Kosmischer Dolm, i.e. cosmic fool) and the catchy "I stand in the cold and wait for a taxi, but it doesn't come, doesn't come." I never forgot a radio interview, in which they explained that their song title "Trude, die Teufelstaube (Trudy, the demon-pigeon)" was selected randomly and could have as well featured "Anna, die Killeranten (Anne, the annihilator-duck)" instead. One of Prokopetz' later solo cabaret programs I especially remember for starting with the story of a guy who enters his favourite hangout pub with his new hair cut, where his friends greet him with the line: "Can your barber at least cook?" Talking about polictal correctness, he went on explaining that you shouldn't call short people "those, who get a heart stab, once they step on a pin that is lying on the floor." Instead, you might refer to them as "vertically challenged." But short people are nice, they can easily blend in with a crowd and usually have more friends to take care of them than those tall ones standing out.

Feminine Sound. Who was the Queen of Austropop? The competition was mostly fought out among Maria Bill, who had a number one hit in 1984 with "I wanna land (I mecht landen, 1984)," and Stefanie Werger, known for her voice being "Strong as a Rock (Stoak wie a Felsen, 1986)," while admitting her overweight in songs like "Round and Sound (Rund und g'sund, 1984)."

Home Sick. Next was Styrian local patriotism of the trio "STS" (Gert "Stony Becker" Steinbaecker, Guenther Timischl, Helmut "Schiffkowitz" Roehrling) and the success of their home sick blues "I want to go back home, home to Duke-Field (Fuerstenfeld, 1984)." The Viennese answer by Fendrich-Kolonovics followed by foot: "Have you already seen Vienna by night, have you experienced that? (Haben Sie Wien schon bei Nacht geseh'n, 1985)." The accompanying video clip was featured scenes from "The Third Man" movie.

Favoriten'n'Blues. Meanwhile, left winger and literary character "Ostbahn Kurti," let's call him East-Railroad Curt in English, started up with the Springsteen-cover "Fire (Feuer, 1985)" and a dialect version of Clapton's "I've got a Rock'n'Roll Heart (57er Chevy, 1994)." His identity revealed as Willi Resetarits, "Kurt Ostbahn" tried to convince everyone that Rhythm & Blues had its roots in Favorit'n (Favo-Rhythm-) Blues, a reference to the 10th district of Vienna.

No Turning Around. The anarcho-band "Drahdiwaberl" (Austrian slang for "Spinning Wheel") around the Viennese high school professor Stefan Weber managed to record a radio-compliant song about the pupil "Ploeschberger, here rules the teacher's word (Ploeschberger, 1983)." The same band brought forward the bassist Hansi Hoelzl, who as Falco started one of the country's most successful international solo careers, as he rapped "Don't turn around, the Commissar's in town (Der Kommissar, 1981)."

International Success and Recession

"World famous in Austria" assembled the Austropop greats for a Sgt. Pepper-style cover.

Hollywood Life. Apart from the German language as a handicap for further distribution and promotion, once in a while Austrian artists would achieve international success with their English compositions. Fondly remembered is Waterloo & Robinson's international sales record with "Good old Hollywood is dying (1974)," written by Christian Kolonovits. In 1975, the hit single entered the charts in 80 countries around the globe and sold 8 million copies. In 1978, the disco song "Lovemachine" by Supermax became an international number one and remained a cult classic up to this day. In 1981, the rap song "Video Life" by "Rock Professor" Bilgeri topped the charts even in Brazil and Argentina. In 1985, the European-wide success of "Live is Life (nana-nanana )" by Ewald Pfleger's Styrian band Opus lead to an international release from the US and Latin America to Japan and China and sales of 10 million records. However, I mostly remembered them for another rugged rhyme: "Eleven is the luck most people haven't!" Obviously, Falco's "Rock me Amadeus" opened new dimensions when it became number one of the US Billboard charts in March 1986, while also reaching number one positions between the UK and New Zealand and from Japan to South Africa. Once again, in 2000 DJ Oetzi had a world hit with "Hey Baby" and topped the charts in the UK and Australia (the other Austria, as a colleague from down under had once put it).

Einstein's Physique. Among those singing in German language, some Austrian performers achieved a lot of success in the bigger German market. Examples include Peter Cornelius' "Ripe for the Island (Reif fuer die Insel, 1982)," Georg Danzer's "White Horses (Weisse Pferde, 1985) and Rainhard Fendrich's song for true men "Macho Macho (1988)," not to forget Wolfgang Ambros' apres-ski evergreen "Skiing (Schifoan, 1976)." In 1992, Hubert of Goisern updated the traditional "Hiatamadl"-folk dance into an Alpine rock song, revealing to the world that he prefers a girl from the city with nice wide calves over a skinny "shepherd maid." The music-cabaret combo "EAV" (Erste Allgemeine Verunsicherung, resp. First General Uninsurance), headed by mastermind Thomas Spitzer and slapstick singer Klaus Eberhartinger, released a number of hit records from their "Alpine Rap (Alpenrap, 1983)" via the crime spoof "Ba-Ba-Bankrobbery (Ba-Ba-Bankueberfall, 1985) to parodying the Austrian gentleman greeting "I kiss your hand, beauty you, for your eyes are so blue (Kuess die Hand, schoene Frau, 1987)," which regularly achieved sales records in Germany. Changing the lyrics of their post-Chernobyl nuclear mutation parody "Burli (My God, is our boy sweet)" into the political protest song "Kurti (My God, Kurti doesn't remember anything)" and performing the same song wearing a President Waldheim rubber mask, led concertgoers to claim back their admission fee in 1988. One of their most incredible rhymes could be found at the beginning of the 1987 song "At the Copacabana," where they sang: "I am a mixture that is quite mega, of Albert Einstein and Arnold Schwarzenegger. So far so good, but the trouble is mine: I've got Schwarzenegger's brain and the body from Einstein!" Here's the German original: "Ich bin eine Mischung, die ist ziemlich lecker, aus Albert Einstein und Arnold Schwarzenegger. So weit, so gut, doch das Dumme ist nur, ich hab' Schwarzeneggers Hirn und von Einstein die Figur." Another deeply philosophical line about luck & life appears in their song "Pigfunk (Schweinefunk, 1984)": "Die Wurst ist rund, der Zwieback eckig. Den einen gehts gut, den andern dreckig!" And here are our translation attempts: "A sausage is round, square-cut's a dry toast. One is very well, the other rotten almost!" Or also: "Sausage is round, plain crackers are square. The one is carefree, others have nothing but care!" Finally, here we go: "Some can afford sausage and are well off, others eat dry bread and their life is tough!" (Please send your vote on the worst rhyme to the webmaster.)

Undecided Relic. "Sometimes, I admit it, sometimes I haven't got it under control any more. Where is the old Ambros, where is he, wild and bright as before?" So Ambros spoke in "The Singer's Escape (Des Saenger's Flucht, 1984)." His 1984 tour for a last time set new standards, when the Vienna City Hall was sold out three times in a row. The 1986 published triple-LP "Selected Live," collecting various live performances of his evergreens, looked like the end of the creative period of the "Living Relic," which new productions like "Thunderstorm (Gewitter, 1987)" never could quite catch up to. As a result, in late 1987 the Austrian news magazine "Profil" shattered the national hero's monument by printing the article: "Send Ambros into retirement (Schickt Ambros in Pension)." And we all remember the harmless powder sugar on the Ambros album cover "The Truth is as White as Snow (Weiss wie Schnee, 1980)." But in 1988 the drug death of Hansi "Dew-Mitch" Dujmic shocked the Austropop family, who could not "say no" to the lethal temptation. Posthumously, he had a hit song featuring the line: "You don't say yes, you don't say no. You drive me crazy, pretty baby, don't you know?"

Band Aid. As exceptions prove the rule, Fendrich's continuing successes kept the movement alive for a while. While the audience of the 1983 School End-Open Air in the Hanappi Stadium still shouted him down with "Wolferl"-calls, Fendrich soon surpassed his "big brother" Ambros. Already in the summer of 1985 Fendrich caught up, as he wrote the Austrian contribution "The whole world is asking: Why (Warum, 1985)" to Bob Geldof "Live Aid" project for Ethiopia. In the following years, Fendrich achieved successes with the hymn "I am from Austria (I am from Austria, 1990)" and the album "Nothing is for sure (Nix is fix, 1992)," followed by several TV shows of same name in 1993. On a smaller scale, STS continued touring and reminded the audience that "Every day counts (Jeder Tag zaehlt, 1990)." How true... The trio's own song "I am from Austria (I bin aus Oesterreich, 1995)" was less pathetic and critically approached the foreigner topic by pointing out various cultural influences in our own genealogy.

Bottle Waggle. The underground band Alkbottle would be a chapter on its own. A 1997 cover version of "Walking in Memphis", in Viennese dialect "I wockl durch Meidling" (i.e. the 12th district of Vienna), speaks for itself: "I stagger through Vienna, and now and then I crawl on all fours..." Their contribution to the pre-qualifying for the Austrian participation to the European Song Contest 2011 in form of the song "Wir san do ned zum Spass - We aren't here for fun" wouldn't lack a certain irony either.

A hand full of friends playing cards. Created in March 2001, while thinking of good old times. Record covers and newspaper clippings as contemporary documents on Austrian Pop music.

Radio Boycott, Irrelevance and New Hope

Better English. Austropop was generally declared dead, as some of its players already declined their own belonging to the genre or even doubted that it had ever existed. After nearly paradisiacal circumstances in the 1970's and early 1980's, the situation of the Austro Poppers had become more difficult. Due to their lack of groundbreaking new ideas, they were ignored by the biggest Austrian radio station "Oe3" (Motto: Life is a hit!), which decided to just play English songs any more. Austropop had to migrate to regional radio stations. The lack of on-air presence further weakened the local scene. A development that inspired STS to write the following comparison: "Imagine you are in England and turn the radio on... and hear only Flamenco. You'd think everyone's mind was gone. Wouldn't that be ridiculous?" Danzer-Baer-Baum got to the heart of it by singing: "And it really doesn't matter what you say, 'cause in English it sounds better anyway!" Anyway, the song was banned from the airwaves for supposedly making people think. Temporary revival occurred during the "Wickie, Slime and Piper" reminiscence of a generation of just-30 year olds. Originally assembled for a charity concert, the unstoppable three of Austropop joined forces in 1997 under the name "Austria 3." In the following years, Wolfgang Ambros, Georg Danzer and Rainhard Fendrich would tour the country together with a program consisting of songs that were mostly 20 to 30 years old.

Bad News. In the meantime, the former proponents of Austropop usually make headlines with bad news, unfortunately. In 1998 the country was shocked by the title pages "Bus wrecked Falco's car" and "Falco's last show" about his funeral. Celebrating the 50th birthday of Thomas Spitzer, mastermind behind the comedy-combo First General Uninsurance, a caricature showed elderly Austro-Pop greats in a retirement home. In 2004, magazines theatrically titled "Marital Drama Fendrich" and "Divorce: Ambros & Co." As by another headline in 2006, "Fendrich could face 6 months in prison" for drug abuse and Danzer revealed his severe illness, then still believing that he could overcome it: "Only who is afraid of water, goes down."

Storm Trooper. Nevertheless there was hope! The "Starmania" TV talent search in 2003 would lead to the discovery of young shooting star Christina Stuermer, who immedialtey after showed a strong sign of life with her first single: "I live (for you are my breath!)" What makes her so likable is that she didn't win the "Starmaina" talent casting show but was only second, losing the finals, but then despite the disappointment and with all her naturalness experienced a comet-like career rise. Following the apparent false start, she easily left the winner behind, who is supposed to take it all, and became an exceptional phenomenon, omnipresent in charts and commercials. Trying to emancipate herself from the prefabricated, canned music selection of a synthetic casting show-product, she would attempt to gain ground through authenticity, while continuing to deliver sensational hymns that almost blew one's head off, Vodka-Red Bull-truths for nodding along to at late night and lighter-compliant ballads that wouldn't get out of one's head again. During the invasion of Iraq, Christl Stuermer's song "Mama ana ahabak (Arab for: Mom I luv you)" addressed the suffering of kids in times of war from the perspective of a little girl and appealed for support of the charity organization "SOS Kids Village." In the meantime her success spread across the border, where she would blend in with the new wave of "Deutschrock - German Rock." A promise for the future among all those heroes of the past. In early 2010, she caused some "Controversy over the national anthem" for singing a rock version of "Land of Mountains, Land on the River" for a campaign of the Austrian Ministry of Education with the textual addition "Homeland are you of great sons... and daughters!" In the meanwhile experienced in the show biz, she would return to the TV studio where her own talent had been discovered, for coaching "Heroes of Tomorrow" or, as our kids would put it, Loser of Yesterday. Her own following single "We live the moment" would deal with all those little moments like playing and laughing that constitute most of our lives, although they often lack our appreciation.


Sounds from Home

Explanation Attempt. Listening to personal favourites, to "Heimatiliche Klaenge - Sounds from Home," while being far from home can bring up strange feelings of nostalgia, longing and home sickness. During a longer overseas assignment, one day driving down to Chicago I'd translate Austrian pop songs to colleagues from Malaysia and China. Crystal clear memories of pleasant moments, sharing little stories and feelings connected to the lyrics of STS' "Every Day counts (Jeder Tag zaehlt)" or Danzer's "Let me just see the sunrise one more time (Lass mi amoi no d'Sunn aufgeh'n sehn)." Besides translation, I had been struggling with questions on the interpretation of Hirsch's controversial protest song against the death penalty "Mom, why do you cry - that's what you wanted all along: A criminal less on earth (Ein Verbrecher weniger auf der Welt)." Only a few days later the news of Georg Danzer's death hit me. Within hours after learning through a phone call in the middle of the night that a late friend had left me something. Far from home I'd get in the car and play "From Scheibbs up to Nebraska - it is a long, long way (Von Scheibbs bis nach Nebraska)" and other unforgotten tunes that had touched me over the years. Then I'd pick up a colleague for breakfast and by sharing bits of that sorrow, real emotion, we'd become friends. In one way or another, to me Danzer's death was synonymous to a final blow to the good times, a happy sound that had been present since childhood. On the occasion of the release of his critical to thoughtful album "(September is) My Time", Rainhard Fendrich would recollect the demise of the Austropop era: "As the Austropop died out - for music is a mirror of time and today is not as easygoing any more - I returned to my roots as songwriter."

Life writes unique stories, doesn't it? Towards the end of this page, similar to the introduction in local language, once more it feels appropriate to use the original German text for the long awaited... outro?

Doch letztmals zurück zu der vertrauten heimischen Popmusik, für viele gleichsam Soundtrack der Jugend. Was gibt es wohl schöneres als ein gemächliches Frühstück am Wochenende im Kreise der Familie zu den Klängen von Cornelius' "Der Kaffe ist fertig (klingt das nicht unheimlich zärtlich)" oder das Zurückerinnern an STS' trostspendendes "Großvater (ich möcht' dir soviel sagen, was ich erst jetzt versteh')" nach einem Todesfall? Ärgert man sich wiedereinmal über jemanden, nehme man am besten eine Anleihe bei Danzer, denke sich "Hupf in Gatsch (und schlag a Well'n, aber tu' mich doch nicht quälen)," und vergesse daraufhin die ganze Angelegenheit. Hat man gerade wiedereinmal einen Blick ins TV-Programm riskiert und ist dabei auf die deutsche Endloskrimireihe "Derrick" gestoßen, so fällt einem unweigerlich der "Inspektor Derrisch" ein, wie Fendrich den alternden, 23 Jahre langsam Fernsehmordfälle aufklärenden Horst Tappert im Lied "(Gustav 1 an Gustav 2, wir machen heut' eine) Razzia" respektlos genannt hatte. Wenn dann bereits die eigenen Kinder in die Schule gehen, möge man an die Sehnsüchte zurückdenken, die man selbst bei den Klängen von Falcos "Nie mehr Schule (keine Schule mehr)" verspürt hatte. Vielleicht versteht man dann so manches wieder ein wenig besser. Es ist gleichsam ein Blick zurück auf die eigene unbekümmerte Jugend, wenn man sich längst vergessen geglaubter Töne erinnert aus einer Zeit, in der es noch mit Ambros hieß: "Is' schon gut, Mama, mach dir keine Sorgen, Mama."


But one last time back to the familiar local pop music, for many the soundtrack of the youth, so to speak. What could be better than a relaxed breakfast on a weekend with the family to the sounds of Cornelius' "Coffee's ready (doesn't that sound incredibly pleasant)" or the fond memories of STS' comforting "Grandfather (I want to tell you so much that I only now can understand)" after a death in the family. When we are angry with someone, we better take a loan from Danzer, imagine "Jump into the mud (and make waves, but don't you dare bother me)," and then just forget the whole thing. If you have chanced another glimpse at the TV-program and confront the never ending German crime series "Derrick," you can't help thinking of the "Inspector Deaf," as Fendrich had disrespectfully called the aging Horst Tappert, who was slowly solving murder cases for no less than 23 years, in the song "(Gustav 1 to Gustav 2, today we do a) Raid." When the own kids already attend school, we may recall our own longing that we had felt with the sound of Falco's "No more school (no school any more)." Perhaps we can then understand a few things better. It is like looking back at the own carefree youth, when one remembers tunes thought long forgotten, from a time when it was still with Ambros: "It's alright, Mama, don't worry, Mom."

Go to next page: H-Rock.
Or jump right into personal favourites among the numerous Austropop songs on a page called Best Of.