What does it sound like when someone tries to fathom the times they live in? What does it sound like when someone wants to understand the country they live in? Karl Neukauf is a chanson and songwriter from Berlin who has been touring Germany for years. From north to south, but above all: from west to east. "KARLEIDOSKOP," his fifth album, is the result of this long journey.
In his musical career, Karl Neukauf has produced records for André Herzberg, Judith Hoersch, and Dirk Michaelis. He has written theater and film scores and performed with artists such as Max Richard Lessmann, Danny Dziuk, and Lana del Rey. To this day, however, he prefers playing on small stages, in smoky pubs, old churches, and winding barns. In places with names like Sandhatten or Tröchtelborn. Where you can still engage in conversation with your audience. Where you can hear what moves people. There's hardly a concert after which Neukauf doesn't get embroiled in a dispute at the bar: Do so many refugees really have to come here? Should Germany be supplying weapons to Ukraine? Can you still believe what you read in the newspapers? And would you mind another glass of red wine?
Neukauf is a good listener; he engages with everyone, even the difficult ones, the troublemakers, and the weirdos. But he never succumbs to the temptation to find overly simplistic answers to complicated questions.
"KARLEIDOSKOP" begins with an ancient Ukrainian folk song – a salute to the western Ukrainian city of Lviv – for whose National Theater he composed music in the spring of 2024. He toured the city and, between theater rehearsals and bomb scares, recorded a duet with Ukrainian actress and director Veronica Litkevich. The sound? Tarantino sailing across the Dnipro. In the background, urban sounds like those from Robert Frank's street photography. A few tracks later, we find the soundtrack to the political year 2024, "Fake News Blues," a laconic song in which Neukauf blasts a few alternative facts up and down the blues scale.
The heart of the record: reggae. The song, "Spirit of Helsinki," evokes the year 1975, when heads of state from East and West Germany met at the now-famous Helsinki Conference to discuss how to end the Cold War. "Security doesn't mean building fences, but doing without them," sings Karl Neukauf. "No one forces the other to their knees – that was the miracle of Helsinki."
"KARLEIDOSKOP" tells of Russian dissidents and Berlin bums, of false prophets and imagined companions. Of animals that act as seismographs. And of bars where two chairs have at least three opinions. The tablecloths in Karl Neukauf's songs are stained with wine. The glittery jewelry his protagonists wear comes from a gumball machine.
Karl Neukauf sings New Berlin Chansons. He has a big heart and a deep voice. He's nostalgic, but he doesn't ramble. A wistful advocate of objectivity. A perspicacious chronicler of dark times. He gathers ten songs on his new album. Ten mosaic pieces that don't form a clear picture, but make sense. Songs that inspire contemplation, but don't put you in a bad mood. You can turn them over and over, and each time you hear them, you'll discover something new. Like a kaleidoscope.
