Deutschland

The New York Review of Books recently ran a 4,000+ words long review of Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's Oscar winning fim "The Lives of Others" by Timothy Garton Ash. It's the last paragraph though that's worth the lengthy read. So now, whenever I'm getting into my how-on-earth-could-I-move-to-this-planet-of-joyless-mooks-country, I'm gonna read it to myself:

"The Germany in which this film was produced, in the early years of the twenty-first century, is one of the most free and civilized countries on earth. In this Germany, human rights and civil liberties are today more jealously and effectively protected than (it pains me to say) in traditional homelands of liberty such as Britain and the United States. In this good land, the professionalism of its historians, the investigative skills of its journalists, the seriousness of its parliamentarians, the generosity of its funders, the idealism of its priests and moralists, the creative genius of its writers, and, yes, the brilliance of its filmmakers have all combined to cement in the world's imagination the most indelible association of Germany with evil. Yet without these efforts, Germany would never have become such a good land. In all the annals of human culture, has there ever been a more paradoxical achievement?"

Nouveaux Sapeurs

Things sure seem to have changed on the Sapeurs front, since most of the Congolese dandies were driven into exile during the war. Sure there's still the old school (see above), but if you check out the video by the Sapeurs Premier (love the shoutout to the lead singer's mother, who's a mayor in the Sangha province of Congo Brazzaville in the beginning), you'll definitely see some new definitions of dapper. Hip Hop sure got nothing on them in terms of recent fashion and dance innovations (besides the fact that this been one of the most infectious Soukouss hits I've heard in a while).



There's been some renewed interest in the fashion gangs of Kinshasa and Brazzaville (and Paris and Bruxelles - anybody know, if the Sapeurs made it to the African community in Berlin yet?). There was a story in Colors a while ago, one in Vice and recently another in the LA Times. There's even some semi-scientific paper on the Sapeurs, which ran in the Australian Humanities Review

YouTube has also plenty of underground Sapeurs stuff. A report on Sapeurs from Brazzaville at home and in exile, partially sung by Rapha Bounzéki, in two parts. Uncut videos of young sapeurs showing off their garb in some hotel ballroom and in some parking lot. And of course there's plenty of recent tunes, like the one by Félix Wazekwa , who sure follows in Hip Hop's consumerist steps (just replacing the Gulfstream with a turboprop and the Cristal with some Primus beer) or a recent one by Koffi Olomide , confirming his status as Papa Wemba's true heir as the ultimate style setter. For more Soukouss updates Betrand Kissou's YouTube blog is worth a visist, featuring some recent tunes by the smooth Aurlus Mabele, the hard hitting Extra Musica International, plus some Congolese Hip Hop by BBA and a report on the Brazza scene with the members of Légitime Brigade.

Back

There's always an excuse to fall off the blogroll. Of course even German telecommunication giant Telecom's 20th century service doesn't justify this long a silence (although it did take four weeks to switch over our broadband from one appartment to the other). But now we're home again. Above is the view from our bedroom, below from the kitchen. Place is definitely a good reason to not leave the house. Although Munich on a long weekend like this develops this radically rowdy Daytona Beach vibe, which turns most of the inner city into party central, so if you felt like it, you could spend your whole weekend stumbling through the streets, beer in hand, meeting new friends for life on every other corner. Our best man Don Flan was here for a while (finally somebody who got out obscure references to ancient pop cultures, exotic foods and current affairs again). He sure got his fill of Bavarian culture (see his entry).

Instant Bourgie

This was the view from our current appartment so far:



Lucked out on the temporary front, as you can see. Took a while to get to the next step, but Fred used all her Gleason's Brooklyn negotiating skills and beat a massive 2BR/3clsts/hdwd fls/hi clgs/ctrl loc out of that snotty, overpriced real estate market over here. So now we're enjoying more of our instant bougeoisification. What a trip. Day 3 after our arrival - running an office, week 1 - getting a mini-van from the company car pool, week 5 - finding out the taxman takes a major chunk out of your paycheck over here, week 6 - comparing consumer reports, week 8 (current) - looking at washers, dryers and a huge sliding door wardrobes with all those warm and fuzzy feelings nesting can bring.

To be continued....

Pathetic

Somehow the rumor that things are so unbelievably slow over here cannot be confirmed. Neither the assumption that in a town like Munich glamour and cosmopolitan life are foreign concepts. Just last weekend the opening of the big retrospective of large format photographer Andreas Gursky turned out to be a massive bash with friends and aquaintances from all over Germany flying in to party. Plus an impressive array of art luminaries from all over the world. Met the artistic director of the art biennal in Dubai. There's something brewing, which will reinforce the new cultural loops between the Arab money world, Asia and Africa, loops the traditional cultural centers aren't part of anymore. The great Gursky show for example will not go to London, Paris or New York after this, but to Istanbul and Abu Dhabi. Point made.



Still not over the homesickness phase of relocating. Went to a Starbucks the other day and got all maudlin. How pathetic am I? Eight weeks ago I would've kicked my ass, if I'd told the Brooklyn me that the faint smell of a double skim dry latte, the light wooden color scheme of a fauxhemian franchise and the mellow sounds of prefab coffee house jazz could get me nostalgic.

Time to get a grip.

Hater's Club

Aaah, another entertaining chapter of ze Germans and ze inferior races. Went to see a play (the premiere of Swiss playwright Lucas Bärfuss' "Die Probe" at the Kammerspiele, actually quite a relief after years of New York Broadway and realist author's theater hell, besides the fact that both theater and afterparty were filled with hordes of hip and pleasant young Munichians) and later back to Schuhmann's, where we joined a group of fellow cultural editors, some of whom I've known for literally decades.

One I'll name Django suddenly went on and on about the mosque they want to build in his neighborhood. This formerly pinko colleague went immediately over the rightwing cliff, talking about those elements who would crowd his streets and that even the Turks in the neighborhood were against it. He praised ousted governor Edmund Stoiber's and interior minister Günter Beckstein's succesful initiatives to block the project. Those two are the Bavarian equivalents to rabid culture war nuts Bill Frist and Tom DeLay. Well, according to them and Django worst of all is the fact that the mosque would be built right next to a Catholic church.

Now my most favorite of all neocons David would most likely agree witht hem, but he would have tried to outdebate me, which was always fun. Django backpedalled right away when I played the atheist card and complained, that those omnipresent Bavarian churchbells insult my secular sensibilities just as much as back in the roaming reporter days the omnipresent calls to prayer in Middle East countries. He switched to the parking space and trafic problems a mosque might create. Coward. At least stick to your guns. Only thing comforting about this was the sense that people at Schuhmann's are not just full of envy and spite, but equal opportunity haters in the old school German sense.

Fight Night

Last weekend we went to Goeteborg to see Asa from Gleason's fight in the Sweden's first pro boxing bout since 1969. According to Asa they had banned pro boxing since it didn't fit their social democratic sense of self and their sense of decency, which is best expressed by the swedish word logum, which means something like all good, 'cause more would be too much, less would be too little.

Blackmore and Grant had joined Asa and hanging witht the three of them made us realize how much we miss being home in Brooklyn. It was a pretty festive night at the Skandinavium, a stadium roughly the size of Madison Square Garden. The Swedes are pretty good fighters, tight and crisp. Asa dominated her opponent Tiffany Carter, who was a bit overwhelmed by the Swedish Sensation, who not only had the audience on her side, but also a distinct advantage having almost double the reach, which enabled her to escape most of Carter's potentially devastating powershots.

Asa was the headliner. In Brooklyn we knew, but never gauged the level of Asa's stardom. It was fun to be the entourage afterwards though, partying at the Elite Park Hotel until five in the morning. With fellow Brooklynites at her side we were a pretty steadfast posse, we enjoyed healthy helpings of Chamapaign. We went til the morning, although not exactly Led Zeppelin style. It was pretty amazing though to witness most streetside Swede's willingness to drink themselves into an absolute stupor. Hotel security seemed quite relaxed about groping, stumbling dudes making passes at anything female with heavily slurred speech. Asa said it's actually socially acceptable to lose control, since most of Swedish society is so overly controller when sober.

Coming In From The Cold

My best man Rich came back from Antarctica, where he spent a whopping four months, which can be recalled on his enormously entertaining blog. here he's getting his top McMurdo hairstyle refitted for civilisation.



Yo! Get your globetrotting ass over here soon...