Barbara Morgenstern - Diary of a Techno Singer-Songwriter

On the long wave of post-unification enthusiasm, the German Nineties were an unrepeatable confluence of distinct yet interconnected experiences. If, on one hand, the influence of winds blowing in from the West is undeniable, in the form of the “acid” standard from across the Channel – a fascination that would take hold to such an extent that within five years it elevated Berlin from colony to metropolis of the 4/4 beat – on the other hand, if the sound of names as different as Mouse On Mars, Basic Channel and the Lippok brothers has an unmistakable and widely recognised peculiarity, that is a fact which in turn undeniably ties back to geography – this time the immediate one of the electronic splendours of seventies vintage, carried through to the reunification of the two Germanys by tracks such as “Computer Liebe” and “Techno-pop” by the Roboter of Düsseldorf.

In the flourishing of electronic scenes, both East and West, among the stories still waiting to be properly reassessed are those of family-run labels like Kitty-yo and Monika, two labels that were among the first to engage with questions of gender and homo digitalis, championed by godmothers such as Gudrun Gut and Agf. The markedly independent spirit of environments of this kind also gave rise to experiences like Wohnzimmer, essentially a collective of musicians who chose to shake off the machinations of the record industry and organise evenings, nomen omen, in their own living room.

It is in these scenes that Barbara Morgenstern began to make a name for herself.

Having arrived in the capital, fresh out of conservatory from the provinces of Westphalia, Morgenstern soon found herself in the right circle, alongside the likes of Maximilian Hecker, Pole and Ronald Lippok, and the Wohnzimmer community, where she honed her “synthetic” sensibility.

In 1997 she delivered her first two EPs, Plastikreport and Enter The Partyzone, the latter for the “ladies only” Monika Enterprise. These are two short collections of songs – in German – that well attest to the development of Morgenstern's songwriting, in particular her starting point in a certain minimalist synth-pop with a taste for dissonance, but also a quasi-punk streak (“Im Wiederhall”).

The first proper album, Vermona ET 6-1, was recorded in the same mood, again for Monika, marking the beginning of an affectionate collaboration that would last almost two decades, appearing in the label's catalogue in 1998. The album gathers some tracks already released on the two EPs and blends them into a more cohesive whole, interspersed with original productions. These latter, however, are the tracks that make the difference, in an album that would otherwise have remained a compilation of admirable but unremarkable attempts. Songs like “Das Wort” and “Ein Versuch”, besides shining as tender minimal-electronic ballads, make it clear that Morgenstern is not interested – not exclusively – in matters of sound construction and deconstruction (as Agf and other names linked to the avant-garde fringes of glitch would be), but rather that her mission is more a search for harmony between new minimal frontiers, a late synth-pop aesthetic, and a more traditionally singer-songwriter inclination.

All of this, however, comes to full bloom with the following Fjorden (2000), recorded with Thomas Fehlmann and brothers Robert and Ronald Lippok, already known from Tarwater and To Rococo Rot.

The album manages to rearrange the previous, somewhat unripe experiments into a more transparent, focused and, more often, “tuneful” glitch-synth-pop.

Indeed, if the nocturnal opening of “Tag Und Nacht”, the synthetic serenade of the title track, and the melancholic instrumental “Dr. Mr” are delightful glitch cocoons that wink at certain downtempo sounds and some “Björk-ian” and Boards Of Canada echoes, the single “Augenblick” is a splendid and extremely rare example of IDM masterfully wedded to a (trip-)pop gait and a hummable, multi-layered melody, “Der Hintergedanke” has almost the sensibility of a Nico or a Joni Mitchell in its confessional chords, and “Mjisnjedschaz” is exactly what you'd imagine a dreamy blues sung over a techno-ambient skeleton to sound like.

It is in this balance between seemingly contradictory impulses that Morgenstern's idea of “elektronisches Pop” takes shape, a form that is ambitious yet humble at once, warmly reflective but also upbeat, with a sense of dynamics within the extreme bittersweetness of the atmospheres that arise from it and in the stories of everyday musings shyly unveiled across the more than half of the tracks that are “sung”.

Quietly, Fjorden sets the (high) standard of quality on which the German composer would go on to build her own personal path through the productions to come.

The story continues three years later with Nichts Muss, released at the height of the electro-pop and indietronica boom. The record stands out for a genuinely inspired and enjoyable electro feel, where imaginative use of synths and drum machines is elegantly set within a pop context. Comparable to certain things on Morr Music or Plug Research, the material here carries the Teutonic tradition of robotic pop towards an electronic song form with a singer-songwriter streak, enriching tech-pop hiccups with piano, guitar and other acoustic instrument arrangements.

In Nichts Muss, another defining element of Barbara's music is consolidated. Indeed, the fluidity with which the sounds accompany the vocals makes the German language sound unusually musical and easy to listen to, an unusual effect given the phonetics and the imagery it is normally associated with.

From the fantastic loop of “Nichts Und Niemand” onward, through the soft trills of “Gute Natch”, what fondly comes to mind are the contemporary successes of fellow countrymen Lali Puna. Well-mannered melodies, never banal or saccharine, but delicate, rhythmically sharp, full of jolts, skilfully and creatively constructed. Gems like the glitch-techno-pop of “Merci” or the splendid, kraut-scented gallop of the title track are just some of the examples that make this third record one of the best of the entire career of the Hagen-born artist.

The main merit of Nichts Muss isn't just that it crystallizes, after the excellent signs shown on Fjorden, the distinctive morgensternian poetics, but also that it skillfully channels that inspiration into something that goes beyond simple pop songs, as shown by the instrumentals in the tracklist, poised between kraut, electro and ambient ("Is", "We're All Gonna Fucking Die").

After an intense period of mostly solitary composition, Barbara gives voice to her collaborative side and releases Pick Up Sticks together with Bill Wells (a respected multi-instrumentalist in avant-garde circles), Stefan Schneider (of To Rococo Rot) and Annie Whitehead. The record, delicately poised between glitch fragments and tiptoeing jazz, is enchanting without ever being disruptive, despite its strongly experimental streak. Plucked guitars, shy horns in the background, electronic dust and the odd layer of keyboards make tracks like "Waft" or "A Soldier's Shoulder" a shining example of the digital-jazz so fashionable in early-2000s avant-garde circles. Never too disjointed or "random", this quartet's effort stands out for its effective blend of avant-garde and accessibility. The title track — like pretty much the whole album, for that matter — is remarkable for its ability to entertain and stay balanced despite its skeletal structure, reaching absolute peaks on a near-perfect track like "The Dust Of Months".

Still in a "collaborative" mood, in 2005 came Tesri, an album made up of 12 tracks featuring her trusted partner Robert Lippok. Unsurprisingly, given the names involved, the album builds on a minimalist conception of electronics, but in service of a futurist, stateless kind of pop. The tracks aren't structurally very complex, and the listening experience is always guided by simple melodies, by layers of sound drawn from synths, guitars and piano, delicate and well defined, accompanied by percussion and rhythmic choices that are never overdone even when they grow livelier and more intense. On two occasions — "Kaitusburi" and the charming interlude "Otuskimi" — the pair also enlist Mieko Shimizo on vocals, who adds a vaguely "cosmopolitan" touch to the digital-acoustic scenery meticulously sketched by the duo.

Often, though, it's the piano that carries the melody, as on one of the collection's most memorable tracks, "Sommer", which brings to mind certain pop scores by Sakamoto. The other vocal collaboration comes from Damon Aaron of Telefon Tel Aviv, who lends warmth and ache to the flow of breaks and sine-wave tones on "If The Day Remains Unspoken For". As usual, the tracks proceed through additions, layerings and subtractions of simple elements, of samples and clean, crystalline sounds — a process that's plain to see on the closing "Winter", where the bare chimes of piano and guitar play at filling the spaces carved out by loops and sweet, minimal keyboard effects.

A tile in Morgenstern's discography that is perhaps not of capital importance, Tesri is nonetheless a valuable chapter in understanding her overall vision of music.

Just a year later, then, Morgenstern goes solo again with The Grass Is Always Greener, her fourth solo album, a work that broadens the German musician's range. With this effort begins a sort of brief, quasi-singer-songwriter interlude, in which the composer decides to focus on a number of acoustic instruments, drastically cutting back on electronics and on the synthetic rhythms she's always been fond of. This slight change of course reveals the full talent of a true artist, capable of reinventing herself and exploring new horizons without getting stuck in her usual comfort zone.

The result is anything but unfocused: the shift in direction is gradual and perfectly engineered. Although the plasticky, loosely-toned synth-pop remains (the soft loops of "Quality Time", the tense "The Operator"), what takes center stage are supple pop ballads (the title track, the enchantment of "Polar" and "Das Schöne Einheitsbild") and indefinable instrumentals halfway between modern-classical and electronics (the lovely piano figure of "Juist" and "Initials B.M.", the splendid "Die Japanische Schranke").

Listening on, you can clearly sense the urge to do something different, and to do it without approximation or affectation; this process of renewal can be traced in the whiplash synths of "Ein Paar Sekunden" or in the near-spoken-word robotic pop of "Alles Was Lebt Bewegt Sich", which is also a fine example of Morgenstern's storytelling skill, drawing as usual on everyday vignettes as well as on an almost "zen" poetic streak.

Despite the sense of being faced with a transitional work, the album as a whole comes across as decidedly positive and full of points of interest.

With her fifth studio album Morgenstern decides to carry on with the slight shift her music has been undergoing, continuing to lean into the more singer-songwriter side of her art. Indeed — as already happened in part with The Grass Is Always Greener — BM sums up and distills all the elements of Morgenstern's music, taking a further step toward her definitive consecration.

The use of electronics is dosed with more skill than in the past, favoring acoustic instruments, in an attempt to inject fresh novelty into a songwriting style that was already quite varied to begin with. Special mention goes to the splendid piano scores, never too grandiose nor intrusive, refined and perfectly suited to the fine atmosphere of the tracks (exemplary is the instrumental "Für Luise", as well as the piano-pop of "Camouflage"). All these components come together to form a puzzle that's hard to replicate, a true mosaic crafted to perfection.

High-level polychromies intertwine with results that are at times superb (the interplay of keyboards and piano on "Driving My Car", the duet between guitar and vibraphone on "Come To Berlin"); the rhythm often springs from nothing before turning into an almost orchestral burst of timbre (textbook examples are "Reich & Berühmt" and "Deine Geschichte"). The perfect union of classicism and a modern approach to songwriting shines in all its fervor, achieving a flawless squaring of the circle. Drops of pent-up melody unfold with shadowy undertones (the rarefied "Jakarta", the frail structures of "Hochhau"), while electro acidity provides a diversion through the album's central stretch (the untamable techno-pop of "Morbus Basedow", the brief "My Velocity"). Worth framing are the tender, minimalist unravelings of the voiceless composition that closes the record, a hazy blend of chamber-music improvisation and sinister dark-ambient influences.

Five years after the last time, the celebrated outfit behind Pick Up Sticks returns with another album of dehumanized, deconstructed jazz, titled Paper Of Pins. This second effort picks up where the previous one left off, shifting shape toward an ambient-pop in which the jazz component is only hinted at by the horns, while the rhythmic structure is pared down to the bone until it becomes a timid murmur. What comes out of it is an intriguing form of polychromatic, uneven, fizzy ambient music, punctuated by horns and always kept within a general sense of good taste and restraint.

Among the eight tracks, a standout is "Produce Of More Than One Country", composed by all four members of the quartet, in which all the parts blend together perfectly, without forgetting dusk-toned charms like the quiet "Tributaries" or the romantic "The Hermitage Of Braid". Unlike so many productions in this field, the artistic partnership between these four musicians produces music that is sophisticated yet "easy" at the same time, free of the jarring edges often tied to improvisation, elegant and fluid. Blending synth sprays with washes of horns, the record sails toward excellence through crooked rhythms (the gorgeous "Rowing Without Roars") and a mix of technology and romanticism (a blend of feelings on "Brown Recluse"), closing out with one last gem (the graceful "Loitering With Intent").

After a temporary departure from the typically German electro-pop that has defined her, then, our artist comes full circle, and with the arrival of Sweet Silence she seems to turn back the clock about ten years instead. The album's structure, in fact, turns out to be almost entirely synthetic, so much so that on the sung tracks it sounds like some kind of primordial, robotic synth-pop, where the evocation of Kraftwerk feels almost inevitable (just listen to the intro of "Highway", where the specter of the Düsseldorf masters is already lurking in the title).

In Sweet Silence the first thing that strikes you right away is the beauty of the sounds, arranged into superb melodies that are unusual, sparkling and never static. You come across an endless array of compositions impossible to forget – in fact, right from the opening title track, moving on through the magnificent, icy "Spring Time", we're swept away by the impeccable grace of every single corner of this record.

The new work, however, also operates on a further level, one already tried out on the two previous albums, which we might fairly call "singer-songwriter" territory. Buoyed by her recent experiences in reading poetry (the project "Only My Pen Tolerates My Choices"), not to mention her cameo in the songbook of fellow Berliner Antye Greie-Fuchs, Morgenstern seems intent on broadening her scope, setting aside the German language for once and embracing a rather wide lyrical field, ranging from fragments of everyday routine to quiet existential reflections, with her usual subtly mocking pen, but with an extra gear in terms of poetic depth and communicative power.

It's thanks to this combination, then, that Sweet Silence works perfectly as a bright, mature pop record, made up of thirteen pieces that also hold up extremely well on their own: the graceful synth-pop of "Need To Hang Around", the interlocking vocal sampling of "Kookoo", the gentle upbeat of "Jump Into The Life-Pool" (which synthetically reproduces that eternal spiralling motion that is the circle of life), all the way to the sinuous electro detour of "Auditorium", where T. Raumschmiere's hand at the controls is most noticeable, and the fine glitch-techno crescendo of "Status Symbol", the only track daring to go past the four-minute mark.

Direct and compelling, Sweet Silence is a masterful example of lightness and painstaking craftsmanship, of economy and spring-like freshness. For a record that draws on models long thought dead and stale, it's really not bad at all.

Three years later, then, Doppelstern renews the spell with eleven duet-tracks (the "double star" of the title), through which Morgenstern seems to want to draw together the threads of almost twenty years of highly distinctive songwriting that has seen her flirt with glitch, the avant-garde, techno and much of the Teutonic sound that surfaced at the dawn of the millennium. Putting together a "greatest hits" would undoubtedly have been a lazy and artistically demeaning move for someone as consistently inspired and curious as Morgenstern. The singer-songwriter from Hagen chose instead to revisit her body of work through the lens of the many collaborations she's built up since her beginnings in the thrilling Berlin scene of the mid-Nineties. So she calls together the likes of Robert Lippok, Gudrun Gut, Julia Kent, Hauschka and T. Raumschmiere.

Even though she's never achieved wide acclaim outside the circle of genre devotees, the German composer's music boasts immeasurable merits. Capable of ferrying indietronica toward a mutated form of enchanting synth-pop with a strong pop-song flavour, Morgenstern confirms her extraordinary abilities once again on this latest effort. The first two tracks are a clear example of her power of synthesis: while "Was Du Nicht Siehst" is a brilliant example of thoroughly enjoyable tech-pop, "Meins Sollte Meins Sein" mirrors certain classical tendencies that have been very fashionable in recent years. The countless collaborations across the tracklist enrich the record and lend it variety, keeping it from feeling too fragmented.

Substantial pop singles (the Berlin-style hiccups of "Übermorgen" and "No One Nowhere Cares") are set alongside sophisticated examples of ambient-pop ("Too Much" with Gudrun Gut, and "Gleich Ist Gleicher Als Gleich"), instrumentals with a morbid allure (the tense "Facades") and a midtempo piece with jappo flavours ("Aglow").

The album's closing stretch, peaking with the piano piece "Schie", recalls the chamber-music leanings of BM, steering the work toward a kind of substantial summation. Barbara's art thus arrives at a fixed point, from which she'll need to set off again, channelling her energies into something new and perhaps more electronic.

To the detriment of her more subdued pop side, the key to a truly explosive breakthrough will be to lean into the aforementioned electro verve. It's there that Barbara reaches the peak of her appeal, managing to combine her compositional grace with an innate ability to write unforgettable melodies.

Contributions by Paolo Sforza ("Tesri")

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