The Kasper Collusion’s music fluctuates between being whole and being fragmentary.
At times, these highly peculiar fragments come together in a way that gives the listener a hint of what could have once been the most beautiful songs. Those who let themselves become immersed in this music must admit that this is – at the very least – not jazz, nor is it something else that they can put their finger on. Anyone who understands what it means to be tired of listening to songs being “songs”– but who still can’t live without them – will grasp what the Kasper Collusion is all about.
The lyrics seem to somehow contradict the musical aesthetics. The listener never knows who is speaking; is it a songwriter who expresses his state of mind? This wouldn’t answer to the musically cultivated song skepticism very well. If we take our cue from the title song, it seems like someone is oscillating between his (political) rage and the loss of this very affect – not to mention anger towards those who do not even stagger. Humor is in play as well, albeit not so easily detectibly. Essentially the only love song on the album sets a good example of this, sarcastically portraying two former US State Department spokeswomen.
The three agents of the Collusion come from quite diverse backgrounds. After several musical metamorphoses, Achim Tang (double bass) is currently known as an improvisor. Central to his work are the questioning of the concept of art from a socio-cultural stance as well as the critique of the reduction of musicians to their roles as instrumentalists. Kurt Fuhrmann (drums) is interested in the exploration of intermediate zones that harbor the intensity and depth of evolving forms and open up spaces for surprising musical textures and colors, formal experiments, and improvisation. He collaborates (no collusion!) with classical musicians, contemporary composers, free improvisors; plays together with Flamenco soloists and indie bands; and produces electronic music. Since his first album, The Free-Wheeling, which was followed by five others (i.e. Man With a Dog, Did the Devil not Corrupt You?), songwriter Franz Kasper (vocals, guitar) has been regarded as the erratic figure of German indie rock, and he “remains one of the most peculiar, most undiscovered singers” (Rolling Stone).