Gunther Fischer Band's amazing Nightkill OST, 1984

Gunther Fischer has been posted here before of course as a result of his backing of Uschi Bruning, and the remarkable fusion album Kombination there as a quintet.  There are other albums hidden in his discography as bandleader or just as solo artist, for example the often requested album with Solo Sunny which is listed here as ST, from 1979, but I think it's a soundtrack.  In the late year of 1984 he made this other OST which is really remarkable with its mix of funk and fusion, the information is here this time under the GF Band. 

For Example track 5, Phoenix:

Uschi Brüning Und Das Günther Fischer-Quintett, 1973 [strongly recommended]

Obviously, after hearing the glorious latter half of the above amalgam as it appeared on the utterly unforgettable vinyl "Kombination", I checked through the discography to see what else might be interesting.  The albums credited to Manfred Krug + Günther Fischer-Quintett looked terrifying to me, in fact, I never got past the first track on "No. 3" which is the abominable "Que Sera Sera" -- a song so damnable, that, it is said, the US military has begun using it in their patented torture protocols for suspected terrorists along with those bizarre black hoods, and naked women, and in fact, in their newest weapon, the long range sonic gun which apparently can 'shoot' music at high volumes (on the order of 150 decibels) in a very narrow beam directly at, for example, Somalian pirates interrupting important Walmart shipments of tupperware to Dallas, or innocent senior citizens protesting against the Government reading each and every email and sexually explicit text message they write, such songs (like "Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign" which is my personal most-hated song) are employed for good effect.  In the meantime my own patented long-range sonic acoustic gun, which I call 'my two boys,' has still not yet been developed and deployed by the great ol' US Army... which I hope never happens, of course...  There is a (Hungarian?) folk song entirely composed by Gunther Fischer in the middle of side b that is instrumental, improvised in fact, of which perhaps the first 15 seconds are interesting, after that it begins to drag as we get to the fourth and fifth minutes, some perhaps will be tempted to fast-forward, others, to use it in their nice new US sonic guns (which will soon I am sure be legalized like all other guns there, perhaps even mandatory) directed at a nearby squirrel in one's backyard; the great US gov't itself could use it in a later campaign against the Iranians guilty of the unforgivable sin of modernizing themselves past the nineteen-forties when the atomic age is said to have begun at least for western powers (plus Israel), and if that war starts, which I hope it won't, as usual it won't be the leaders who will suffer but instead tens of thousands of repressed citizens will be sacrificed for a regime they had neither stake nor faith in...  luckily, there will be very few US casualties, we can be fairly confident.

Anyways, back to this release, which is formidably good, fresh, tasty, full of inventive songwriting, as you'd expect from this period in time when culturally everything was fermenting, like the genital tract of a very popular and reckless prostitute...  I am not too enamoured of the voice of Uschi, never mind that the name always reminds me of the immortal swedish softcore porn star Uschi Digard (or rather:  here) who was omnipresent in European movies of the seventies, including several of the great Russ Meyer's; here of course she (I mean the singer) bears the most unfortunate resemblance to Janis Joplin, not quite of the same level of interest for most of us men.

First of all consider the first track, "Welch ein Zufall" (i.e. what a coincidence).  I was quite blown away here by the chord progression Gunther wrote, it starts in a nice bouncy typical sixties G minor to A minor repetition, but subsequently I almost fell out of my chair when the verse transitions into  A♭ major, which then drops down to E minor.  Surely a completely verboten sequence!  Then, picking up the E minor, we get a relatively standard upgoing series from E minor, F♯ minor, G, A7, ending up at a tonic of B minor prosaically going to E7.  Without more ado after the chorus the verse starts up again with the G minor / A minor.  Pretty cool, right?  Esp. the anomalous A♭ to E minor.  We can understand how it works if you interpret the A♭ as an F minor going down to E minor.  Brilliantly unexpected though.





Then the album closes out with a really beautiful ballad written again by Gunther and orchestrated with a nice topping of delicatesse.  I wonder how important it might be track down the rest of his compositions on the strength of this last track, he was clearly quite skilled with almost pure Burt Bacharach aptitude at crafting popular-sounding songs with just a nice edge of originality, unusual chord changes, and utter interest especially when compared to the standard pop song progressions like 1, 2 minor, 5th.  This particular entry has a couple of unusual changes in it too including the verse dropping to the 7flat chord, that is, verse starts in G and ends not in D7 or G, but in F, which was a hallmark of early AM radio, e.g. Jimmy Webb's "By the Time I get to Phoenix".  As I understand it, in this song she is telling him not to come back again, because they were friends, just friends, and she thought that was enough. Believe me, she says, if it wasn't so, she would be saying other words to him.  Wonderful stuff.  What a romantic sound and song.

Here it is:





One last note, obviously this recording was made in East Germany, behind the Berlin Wall...  I'll save the commentary about communism, the greatest crime perpetrated against humanity, by humanity, for a later post, or more accurately, many previous ones on prognotfrog.

Fantastic album.  Great find.  And all thanks go to me, this time-- not my friends! lol

Günther Fischer-Quintett's Kombination from the GDR, 1978 [lossless, new fresh vinyl rip]

Wow.  This is the kind of high-powered fusion I love and revere and miss so desperately whenever I visit those local jazz festivals at which middle-aged or old folks try to scat and swing and invariably get up to start dancing in the aisles in a most caricatural manner, spilling a drink or two on me (like their alka-seltzer).  Not only their dancing style but their fashion sense of course provides us with endless amusement, at least, those of us who are younger than 40, who might number only in the dozen however amongst an attendance level in the tens of thousands.  Cf. my commentary here, about the local festival in my city which I long ago abandoned, particularly since their choice of music invariably becomes more conservative and old-fashioned, time-travel-like, alzheimerly as the years go by, the same stupid standards reappearing each time, as if they had no memory of the past-- I am reminded of Oliver Sacks' case studies of those who have a stroke and are unable to form long-term memories, and by long-term we mean any memory older than a minute or so: these same jazz fans seem completely unable to recall they have heard "Summertime" already in their lives so many times, acting as if it's a brand-new piece of music.  But among all crimes against humanity there is nothing worse than when some fat old octogenarian gets up and starts getting into "It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing, doo-wop--doo-wop etc. etc." at which point I begin to vomit spasmodically-- admittedly, partly because I had far too many beers already to drown out the pain of this feculent audio, but I mean, let's get real-- said old lady was probably a baby when that song was written back in the days of war rations when you had to forcibly extract your mercury dental fillings to help the wartime effort for rectal thermometers and people were forced to buy copper pennies for a few dollars from the government to smelt into wiring to use in B-52 bombers' electric connections so there'd be no problems, other than a millisecond's pang of guilt, in dropping A-bombs with inappropriate names on foreigners-- I've mentioned before how much I hate swing but even more so I hate dixieland jazz with its retarded simplicity, its insistent pentatonic badgering or rather hammering over the same neuronal synapses-- imagine if you were forced like a schoolchild to rewrite over and over the same phrase, "I will not listen to any decent music" over and over again, that's what dixie jazz is like, I'm sorry Woody Allen, but both pedophilia and dixieland are not my cup of ovaltine...

But this album is not that kind of jazz.  It's inventive, interesting, exciting, and even has some Terry Riley/Soft Machine elements to it... So please enjoy this crystal-clear and brand new rip!