Oh. My. God. Jan St. Werner, the hottest electronic
musician in the u
niverse,
one half of Mouse on Mars, touched my leg! Oh, and he tried to pull
it, too…
After an entire day of primping, preening and breathing into a paper
bag (not glue-filled, silly!), I met the men I love. Of course,
the boy I love tagged along to ensure there would be no cuckolding,
but never mind about him. This story is about Jan and Andi (the
shorter half of MoM), and it goes a little something like this…
I love Mouse on Mars. Once, so long ago, I interviewed Andi over
the telephone from his studio in Germany. When I asked if Jan had
anything to add to the mix, he responded with “Jan is on the toilet.”
I knew these dudes were musical geniuses (the interview was sparked
by my obsession with the Autoditacker album), but I had no
idea they had such sparkling wit! Their opening slot for Stereolab
shortly after secured them a place in my heart, daydreams and CD
player. Who knew that two men twiddling knobs and bouncing around
could be so fab?
Last year, my German heartthrobs came back to me. After an exhilarating
night of dancing and gawking, I worked up the nerve to speak to
Jan, asking him about a little sneaky something. Don't get your
hopes up, I've yet to learn how to proposition a man. I merely inquired
into whether the duo (sometime trio) would be playing any shows
in Deutschland while I was holidaying that way. “Hannover! Do you
know that? At the Expo.” I fell asleep cradling the family atlas
that night.
The best part about trailing Mouse on Mars around in their home
country was how much the whole thing baffled anyone I tried to strike
up a conversation with. The problem may have been in my poorly language
skills, but I did manage to weasel my way into an arty dance party
in Dortmund and spend an evening with Mouse on Mars and DJ Koze.
I chickened out of talking to the duo on that occasion, but decided
not to make that mistake if presented with a new opportunity.
And
so my opportunity rose, born of a friendship with a smooth-talker
at Thrill Jockey, a sweet boy named Sam who was willing to set me
up on my ultimate dream-date. True, he could guarantee me no bases,
but I took what I could get.
I got an earful, very little of which I understood at the time.
Before we got organized enough to get on the bus and turn on the
tape recorder, Andi informed me that he greatly disliked doing interviews,
and that Jan would talk forever. Pangs of post-performance hunger
helped transform 'forever' into something more finite, and, once
Jan got his pseudo-intellectual not-funny-in-translation sarcasm
out of the way, I got a few good answers from him about what is
up.
This is supposed to be an interview. I should let his words speak
for him. I asked about a possible swimsuit modelling career move
that was rumoured (a teasing Sam, perhaps?) to be in the works.
Jan accused Thrill Jockey of being “really crazy people, all run
by these literish gay people who are totally into this dress-up
thing, and, you know, male-female blurring stuff…” and that the
label wanted the band in swimsuits “for their purposes…for their
political ideas.” Huh? “We are anti-ideas.” Oh. Right.
Silliness is not pretentiousness, mind you, and so things weren't
all that bad. My knee got touched often for emphasis. I know who
to blame for all their ridiculous cover artwork. I learned the difference
between a “pre-millennium” and “post-millennium” Niun Niggung
(a recent album). I learned that Expo 2000 sucked. “We thought that
more things would explode. It was still quite human… I mean down
to earth.”
Or did he mean 'human'? Jan and Andi kinda acted like they don't
get out much. They made a scene at the restaurant we went to after
the interview, plugging their ears at the table, tugging at the
waitress' skirt, and stealing one of those big Jesus candles. Perhaps
these men spend a little too much time holed up in the studio with
computers and gizmos? They may not be recluses, but they're no party
animals either. “We are no rock band,” said Jan as they joked about
getting drunk on the bus. After dinner, they confessed that they
were going to settle in with a Steven Seagal movie. Oh boy.
I left them with their haute cinema, content that I had near-befriended
my musical heroes. They're weird, funny in a 'don't get it' sort
of way, and, as Andi (man of few words) said “We're not Kraftwerk,
you know.” I guess that means I can swing 'round for a visit next
time I'm in Cologne!
-Julie
Colero
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