SINKENDE SCHWIMMER

One of the first truly strange cd's I bought. It was '93 and I was on a quest for the oddest recording of all time. All of a sudden up popped Asmus Tietchens in a 'recommended by so and so...' catalogue.

Unfortunately I was underwhelmed back then and I still am today 21 years later. There it sits in it's fancy packaging, all prim and proper with charcoal sketches on tracing paper, sitting lazily in my collection looking as though it had been bought yesterday. It's one of those cd's that just lies there, year on end collecting dust. It sits uncomfortably between 'Throbbing Gristle' and 'This Mortal Coil' which are falling to pieces through overuse through the decades.

The music within is as grey and uninteresting as the sleeve would suggest. For those who are not familiar with his name - this bloke never uses bass, guitar,vocals or percussion - although there were a few drum machines in the early 80's recordings which are infinitely superior.

The sounds used are all highly treated and of manipulated acoustic origin. Big deal - it doesn't make the album any good. There's nothing to cling to or grab hold of musically. 'Sinkende Schwimmer' is a tuneless, unmemorable random collection of tones and vaguely metallic squeaks and groans. There's nothing but a feeling of emptiness at the end and a curiosity to listen to it again because you can't remember a thing about what you've just heard. This truly is the Devil's music.

Wobbles and gurgles appear randomly and unless I'm much mistaken one of those Rolf Harris 'Wobble Boards' makes a less than dramatic appearance half way through. It's of such undetermined origin though that I just lost interest almost as soon as it started.

What a waste of twelve quid that was! Why on earth haven't I thrown this out, or at least snapped the damn thing in two? It's almost like it holds me in perpetual bondage as if I'm in an HP Lovecraft horror novel.

I can only hope and pray that I get burgled one day and that 'Sinkende Schwimmer' is finally cast from my life. If not, it will look down at me mockingly for years to come with it's sharp cornered, untouched tracing paper packaging and laugh in my face casting aspersions that it now looks far younger than me.