Palais Schaumburg began as a NDW quartet in 1980 led by vocalist Holger Hiller, who left the group following their 1981 debut album [Produced by David Cunningham/Flying Lizards] for a solo career. The rest of the band re-grouped and in a fit of near-quixotic proportions, enlisted “Sugar Coated” Andy Hernandez, better known as Kid Creole’s comedic foil Coati Mundi, to take the band into spaces that in some ways built on the foundations of their earlier efforts while heightening their eccentricity by traits that he brought to the producer’s chair. Walther Thielsch was enlisted as a replacement vocalist with Moritz Van Oswald and the group’s sophomore album mapped out distinctive territories that helped to typify some of the paradoxical energies that were both reflective of NDW and also probably part of the reason for it’s relatively brief flowering.

Tapete Records | GER | CD | 2004 | TR 039

Palais Schaumburg: Lupa CD RM [2004]

1. 3 Nach 9
2. Süss Sein, Nett Sein
3. Lupa
4. Spring Über Vier Pferde
5. Sieg Auf Knien
6. Rosen
7. Nationen
8. Der Tiger Und Die Stimme
9. Stich Auf Stich
10. Europa Heißt Amerika
11. Papperazzo
12. Hockey
13. Packt Die Herzen Aus
14. Stan Kenton

Unlike the Teutonic stereotypes, the Palais Schaumburg sound relies only slightly on synthetic sound and restrained emotion. While I have not yet heard the band’s debut album, I do have a 12″ single taken from it for “Wir Bauen Eine Neue Stadt,” and apart from the vocal differences between Hiller and Thielsch, the foundations for both incarnations of the band remain the same; a mixing of funk and Krautrock influences in a cocktail with liberal sprinklings of dada influence. Where “Lupa” moves further afield may be down to the subtle hints of caribbean salsa and jazz that Hernandez brings to the mixture.

The rhythms are far from the supple rhythms of disco and salsa that Kid Creole + The Coconuts employed as their currency. These songs were far more spastic with unusual time signatures being punctuated with blasts of brass; often as a tonal counterpoint to the main melody, which tended to skitter across the foundation of the song like an evasive insect. Thielsch’s vocals were full of call and response backing vocals and were more robust than what the more diffident Hiller brought to the proceedings. This is seriously strange music with a patina of warmth and approachability [the vibes are particularly jarring in much of this setting] vying with an equally discordant streak that couldn’t be bothered to attain “pop music” status; often to an inconclusive draw that one can admire more than enjoy.

Occasionally, the dissonant impulses that lie at surface level throughout most of this album were momentarily submerged to allow the band to explore something that was altogether more euphonious. The startling [in this context] “Rosen” successfully mines a smoky noir late night jazz vein. After hearing the first half of this album, you wouldn’t think that the band had it in them. “Lupa” is a blend of odd meters coupled with slightly atonal Bavarian funk [you read that right] that almost brings to mind the 1981 model year of the band Japan on their “Tin Drum” album. The difference being that Japan’s music was brilliantly syncopated to the point of almost making one forget that there were seriously offbeat meters at work that were powerfully rhythmic, yet completely undanceable. On “Lupa,” Palais Schaumburg make no attempt to hide the seams of their construction. On the contrary, they seem to like highlighting the musical stitches that resulted in this fascinating surgical hybrid.

The only thing I’ve ever heard that is strongly redolent of the character of this music was a B-side by Eurythmics, recorded by Conny Plank contemporaneously with the career of Palais Schaumburg in 1981 called “Heartbeat, Heartbeat.” That song had most of Can playing brass and Robert Görl [D.A.F.] on drums, laying down a high-hat heavy motorik beat. The almost atonal blasts of horn that this song featured are echoed strongly in the Palais Schaumburg approach, as was the rhythmic impetus. Wipe Annie Lennox from this cut, replace her vocals with a German male and this song is pure NDW and more than a little like the Palais Schaumburg modus operandi.

Palais Schaumburg differed significantly from the provocative postures of  D.A.F. or Die Krupps. The band had a playfulness on their music that was 180° apart from the almost stereotypically dour approach of the first two bands in this week’s series even as their music skirted the edges of atonality and yet incorporated lighter moments in a fashion that belied the underlying seriousness of the band’s approach. They seemed to approach having fun in a very serious fashion. A perfect portrait of the quintessential paradox that much of the NDW sought to explore artistically.

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