B. Fleischmann
I'm Not Ready for the Grave Yet

A few Saturdays ago, while aimlessly wandering around the city, I spotted on the wall of a somewhat pointless alley, a tiny poster that caught my attention (the magic of music): that very evening Bernard Fleischmann would be playing in my city. Well, here’s the sign I was waiting for, telling me a change was coming and solving my evening plans.

It's not the first time Fleischmann has passed through these parts; a few years ago, I had the chance to see him on his tour promoting his second-to-last album “Angst is Not a Weltanschauung”, a good piece of work by the way. I remember it was a really good concert: great location, clear and powerful sounds, audio projections providentially supporting the live music, two flesh-and-bone musicians/singers bringing physicality to the Austrian's electronic set. I liked it so much that I convinced myself to buy the album, which, by the way, you can find reviewed by yours truly on these pages.

However, the spectacle that unfolded before my eyes this time, as I entered, was totally different: a venue unsuitable for hosting the event, a miserable little room, no stage, about fifteen people, some sitting sipping a beer under the machinery, a nerd with embarrassing grimaces playing the guitar, Fleischmann behind the console singing out of tune like a bell.

Yet Fleischmann was there, despite the adverse conditions: when he straps on the guitar and sings, he’s really lousy, but if he applies himself to what he does best (an emotional and human-filled electronic, a bit glitchy, sure, and certainly not alien to pop, rock, indie, and post elements), I’d say the result is actually enjoyable. Do I get emotional? Despite everything, I do, thanks also to that nerd next to him, who, although not pleasant to look at, sure knows his way around a guitar, or better yet, knows how to adapt it well to the sound of Our Guy, giving the live set vigor and a nice dose of electricity, which undoubtedly does not harm nor disrupt the more peculiar poetry of the Austrian musician.

In the end, I am satisfied. The venue gradually filled up as the entrance price decreased (from 5 to 3 to 2 down to 0€, and who cares!) and yes, in the end, I left satisfied (buoyed also by that satisfaction that only zero-kilometer concerts can give) and, as has now become tradition, with Fleischmann’s latest work in my pocket: that “I’m Not Ready for the Grave Yet,” released at the end of last year, which I had typically overlooked.

Certainly, the music of this flagship artist of Morr Music was in vogue some time ago (do you remember when we used to listen to Lali Puna and Notwist? Oh, how the world was better then, don’t you have at least a little nostalgia for those times?), but as he himself suggests from the title of his latest work, Fleischmann is not yet ready for retirement, and he shows it through actions, through music.

Compared to what I heard in concert, I notice with a pinch of disappointment that there isn’t much use of distorted guitars, which evidently had been just a gimmick to enliven the live performance: on the CD, the sound is cleaned up, with the most assertively post-rock impulses nullified, where the refined touch of the artist prevails, even though guitars are present pretty much throughout the album (in more than one instance, the contribution of guitarist Markus Schneider is noted — could this be the nerd by his side on the “stage”?). But aside from guest appearances (in three songs, there is also the saxophone of Karin Waldburger), the album is a great demonstration of Fleischmann's intimate autonomy, who ends up handling a bit of everything, including vocal parts (and if it remains clear that Fleischmann is not a singer, his studio performance certainly proves more commendable compared to his live one).

Of course, in its eclecticism, and with the voices of Sweet William Van Ghost and Marilies Jagsch, “Angst is not a Weltanschauung” was decidedly more convincing, but even “I'm Not Ready for the Grave Yet” knows how to entertain, highlighting and confirming Fleischmann’s skills as a composer, his ability to create catchy melodies and convey them through undeniable technical skill, dispelling any little doubts regarding the honesty of the product and any suspicion of potential, presumed sycophancy that one might point out with a superficial listen. Fleischmann is like this, and I, now owning three of his works and able to consider myself at least a fan, must add that Fleischmann is a little artisan of electronics, but also a real talent, as his music somehow always manages to move and even tantalize the palate with solutions seemingly predictable, indeed rich with inspiration and an approach to artistic creation that craft — which over the years has undoubtedly grown — only serves to reinforce.

Fleischmann therefore doesn’t like to lose himself in complex circuits, nor linger over excessively convoluted dynamics, but he is an artist endowed (highlighting his skills as a multi-instrumentalist — a quality that allows him to inject humanity into every electronic beat birthed from his laptop), endowed with a great heart and humility, because his offering doesn’t impose itself with the intent to alter the course of music history, but to give shape and color to the sensations the musician intends to communicate from time to time. Gentle forms, soft colors.

With this album, the Austrian thus refines his language, layers the weaves of which his art consists (consider the intelligence of the rhythms, the evolution of the tracks, the stop & go and variations of theme), but betting on a less maximal sound, certainly softer in impact, landing in the all-out singer-songwriter of the last two tracks (“All Night the Fox Comes” and “Your Bible is Printed on Dollars”), which are not even the most beautiful tracks: nothing more than elementary lullabies for guitar and voice and little else, that do not rise above the status of “simply nice.” Better when instead Fleischmann’s music rests in the comfortable coils of a fine and imaginative, fun and inventive electronic (strong both in the digital and analog fronts), continuously rattled by the subcutaneous nerve of the guitars (and the veiled but ever-present anti-system message). Lovely in this sense is the initial triptych: the opener “Don’t Follow,” which couldn’t be more typical; the majestic “Tomorrow,” complete with emphatic futuristic keyboards in the eighties style; “Beat Us,” which live becomes very powerful and in the studio continues to hold its own among sampled voices and hypnotic guitar arpeggios. Also beautiful are “Who Emptied the River,” where a more abrasive yet still controlled electricity resurfaces, and the "playful" title track, also featuring irresistible percussive patterns. But the entire album — and this is probably its strong point — boasts a refined and sparkling rhythmic attractiveness, even evoking (thanks to the use of acoustic instruments) a vague exotic feel (and “This Bar” is its apotheosis).

And then traditions are traditions: until next time, Bernard!