Snaps From The Sterne Fur Immer Tour
Thought For The Day
A Tour Of Germany, December 2nd - 14th

Oh bloody hell, it's another Momus tour. The Sterne Fur Immer Tour.

The MoMercedes which will transport Moog, Toog, Shizu-Chan and Karin-Chan at a clockwork 180 kmh from Berlin to Berlin via Leipzig, Hannover, Frankfurt, Nurnberg, Munich, Stuttgart, Koln, Bochum and Hamburg.

The poster. The Earl of Amiga himself.

In Berlin Stereo Total come to the show. Don't be fooled: these goofy and ineffectual-looking people possess three of the sharpest minds in pop. At the moment this photo was taken, they were planning the conquest of Britain.

Shizu in our Berlin hostel, where we have a four-bed dormitory. We all put up grudgingly with the inconveniences of sharing a room (having to watch each other undress, brush teeth, etc).

The tour is reported in German Vogue.

The Toog-Moog Music Machine arrives in the ancient town of Leipzig, birthplace of Bach, and performs in a rather glam little dungeon where kids too young to remember communism dress as pierrots.

As we drive, some of us are looking out at landscapes like this. Others are absorbed in the dreadfulness of German radio, or games of Bugdom on the iBook.

Nuremberg. We have a day off and sip gluhwein (hot spiced wine) with the natives at the winterfest. Then we hit Humana, the excellent uncurated thrift chain, and buy heavy wollens, skiwear and Batman costumes (you never know when you might need one) for a few pfennigs.

In Frankfurt I meet Johannes Schneider, the only German to have bought a place on the limelight express men have learned to call Stars Forever, even if it was only a $25 line in the Indiepop List song.

My grandfather probably bombed this town flat. But there were memories, plans and photographs, and the Germans have rebuilt it all exactly as it was. How can anyone still doubt that Nonesuch, too, will be rebuilt one day?

I meet a Scotsman selling kilts at one of these Nurnberg stall-huts. At another, salmon are being smoked. During the shows, the best received song is 'Tinnitus', in which I go reeling and writhing and fainting in coils in my best tartan. Is there some sort of aryan kudos attached to Scottishness?

Sushi Glas is the coolest restaurant in Nurnberg. Unfortunately, it takes two hours for our food to come. We chant, in pidgeon German, 'Essen und trinken oder wir sterben mussen!'

When the food still doesn't come we are reduced to making moustaches out of candlewax and sticking chopsticks up our noses.

In the town museum lives a baroque harpsichord to die for.

During the Karin Komoto song in Munich I sing my usual improvisations concerning Karin's lover Hikaru. Karin calls her on her mobile and lets her hear the song in real time. Hey, it's the Zooropa Tour all over again! Let's call Milosovic from the next town!

Read all about it, murder in Schwabing
Down the 11 Executioners, Momus, star of murder ballads
Gunned down mid-song...

Gilles leaves a note in our Munich hotel: 'Meet you at 2.30 at the entrance to Dachau.' So we drive out to the concentration camp. Here, in the museum, is a chart of the categories of people exterminated. Jews, antisocials, homosexuals...

Never again. I sang Space Jews with some feeling last night, and this place reminds me why.

Stuttgart is nestled in between hills. It feels Swiss. At Le Fonque the girls relax on the pool table. Like you do.

Cologne. Gilles in the pose of a burriko or pseudo-naive cutie.

Andreas from Kreidler and his girlfriend Thea feed us coffee at their flat in Koln. Thea, who's an artist from the Black Sea, talks about Leos Carax (she worked on his last film as a translator).

We go shopping at Humana again. Everything here is good, I swear it, and so cheap! Gilles buys a gay / punky leather jacket and we all try it on.

Thea takes us to the opening of a Thomas Ruff show. Her photo, serene and classical, stands amidst images derived from net porn.

A picture by a very interesting painter, Torsten Slama. His skewed baroque imagination reminds me a bit of Britain's Paul Noble.

Why are people staring at me, do I look strange or something?

Shizu has in her wallet a moustache she used to wear in Japan in order to scare off molestors in porn cinemas. (She wanted to watch the movies in peace, naturally.) After a few glasses of wine, we take turns wearing it, and are transformed one by one into distinguished critics and connoisseurs.

An old lady runs this puppet museum all by herself. It's a welcome relief from the Cologne rain, and a pointer to future Momus onstage gear. Perhaps.

Shizu in her new suede dress.

Even the filling stations are not immune to the German kitsch virus. Here in Bochum cute dwarves will wash your car for you, whistling as they go.

Andreas, Thea and Detlef from Kreidler follow the Momus bandwagon to Bochum and show photos of a recent exhibition they've put on in their warehouse space in Dusseldorf: a show entitled 'Momus, Melville and Morrissey'. I feel like a total cult.

And frequently look like one, too.

Is it really that time already? Must dash.

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