Winter’s near, „Fade, Light“ is here

The first picture that comes to mind when I think of the new single’s title „Fade, Light“ is me on my bike after work in late summer 2017, cycling home to Charlottenburg, where I lived at the time. It’s still warm in Berlin, I’m wearing shorts and shirt, and the low sun paints the world in peaceful pastel colours. A year that contained some heavy incidents lies behind me and in a flash, contrasting the peacefulness, the knowledge of this heaviness is in me. It triggers a sudden desire for solace, and I interrupt my ride near S-Bahnhof Tiergarten, push my bicycle away from the bike track, direct my face to the sunshine and close my eyes. Years later I cannot be sure (memory often adds or steals details) but in hindsight it seems like this happened in a more or less automatic process. The song’s opening line „Sun in my face / I lose track of time“ very much belongs to this moment – the image of me standing on the pavement with closed eyes is still the perfect summary of what this song is about.

Over the years, this picture and the predominant emotion of that song have never left me. Songs alter and grow differently over time, for some of them I have to dig a bit deeper to „feel back“ to the emotional origin (I’ve often done that before shows in order not to play songs with too much muscle memory). Especially when a song comes into being over a long time and I add more recent thoughts to the lyrics during the writing process, it’s sometimes difficult to tell where the first roots of it can be found. Others reveal their initial source at any given moment—“Fade, Light“ is one of them. Eno and me played it at almost every concert since eight years ago as one of the last songs on the set list, I played it in most of my solo shows, and it was not under discussion to not record this important and formative piece and musical friend for the upcoming record. However, over the years we’d been digging a bit deeper into the possibilities of how to create: more courageous and spontaneous, more out-of-the-moment, everything is allowed. And then, after working on several other songs with a totally different approach, „Fade, Light“ no longer seemed to fit into the collection of songs we plan to put out in 2026. We decided we would not include it in the record.

But this year, when a series of events in my personal life confronted me with my old need (which is probably a lot of peoples‘ need) to find a home and haven within myself, I realized that the song just belongs to the record. It might „sound“ a bit differently but it just perfectly sits in this circle of song-shaped memories and ruminations about love and its whereabouts, and fears or what we can learn from them. So, here it is, as part of a collection that will come out next year – a friend of our’s that might become yours, too. We hope you’re safe out there, take care. (seb)

An ode to changes

It was in 2021, when I looked out of my window, onto a street displaying a spring that just had sprung. I noticed how many shadows were moving on the asphalt: wandering shadows, created by people, birds, cars in motion. Motionless shadows from houses and street signs. Pleased by the sight, it felt like waking up earlier than expected after a long winter sleep to me – a sleep that had been unrestful, infused by the narrowness of the Corona time as well as other changes in my life, both above and under the surface. But the light was back, and more or less automatically I picked up my guitar and played a random picking in standard tuning, with the capo on the fourth fret. The picking turned from randomness into a pattern pretty fast, the pattern caused words to appear and only half an hour later this collage of feelings and observations was somewhat finished.

However, just somewhat. The last verse took a while to grow complete (as far as lyrics can ever feel finished anyway), and so it wasn’t before late summer of the same year that I brought the will of recording this short piece to my musical brother, duo partner in crime (crying?) and producer Eno. Just before we had unintendedly rediscovered our being-in-the-moment recording approach and managed to apply it to catching the moment of „Shadows“ – I recall how naturally the song seemed to float into these two microphones in front of me. Over the years the recording never evoked any doubts if it was interesting for anyone except myself, it is an unspectacular, honest document of a time full of changes that later became one of the first lullabies for my daughter. I can only love it like a true friend and I’m more than happy to finally introduce the world to this simple, warm soul of a friend.

Listen to „Shadows“ on Spotify, if you like.

New song and live video

Life is a street map full of crossings. A few years ago, when the production of Where Does the Sun Sleep? had already made some progress and I felt almost willing to release it soon, I became a father—and instead of following the road I was on and giving birth to this piece of music (as I had naïvely planned) my original route vanished in the haze of a brand new, wonderfully chaotic and absorbing situation for a while. But in the hottest weeks of 2024, Eno and me came back to life as a creative mini group and picked the recording of that song up again, remembered the catching-a-moment approach, that we had established just before the significant change in my life, and finished the work in his beautiful new studio.

I couldn’t be happier that this personal contemporary document is out now, ringing from a few years ago, evoking memories that still feel warm and vivid. It’s yet another reminder that some things cannot be rushed and either have to grow or wait for their moment, or both. Thanks for listening out there, either on streaming platforms like Spotify or here on YouTube.

I hope autumn is a warm and safe place for you. See you soon.

Sebastian

Von der Schwere und Leichtigkeit des Nichtfesthaltenkönnes

Alles kommt und alles geht – vielleicht lässt sich damit das Leben und die ihm innewohnende Nähe von Schmerz und Zauberschönheit in einem Satz beschreiben. Einem Satz, der sich so nüchtern wie schwermütig sagen lässt, natürlich. Kurz bevor meine Tochter geboren wurde, wähnte ich mich an so einem Punkt, der Schmerz und Glückseuphorie sich in gleicher Intensität überschlagen lässt, wissend: Jetzt wird alles anders.

An einem Abend auf den letzten Metern vor der großen, kaum absehbaren Veränderung saß ich mit erwartungsfroh-mulmigem Gefühl am Fenster, blickte auf die regennasse Straße in Berlin-Wedding und schrieb ein Gedicht mit dem Titel „Nichts kommt zurück“ in mein Tagebuch, das mir sofort eher wie ein Lied erscheinen sollte – basierend auf ein paar Spielereien mit dem E-Moll-Akkord war es in kaum einer Stunde fertig.

Lieder, die wie dieses fast von allein zu mir kommen und deren Entstehen nicht durch lyrisches „Bemühen“ (und vielleicht das eine oder andere gekünstelte Wort) angeschoben werden muss, gehören von je her zu meinen liebsten. Doch nicht nur aus diesem Grund ist „Nichts ist schneller als Glück“ für mich ein kleines Werk von großer Bedeutung. Ich mag es auch deshalb wahnsinnig gern, weil es einigermaßen bündig zusammenfasst, worüber ich in vielen meiner Lieder gesungen habe: Das Rätsel der Zeit, die Unmöglichkeit, sie anzuhalten und mein Versuch, einzelne Momente zu „bewahren“. Zudem, na klar, markiert das Lied für mich einen meiner wichtigsten Lebensumbrüche.

Ein großer Dank geht an Simon Gordeev, mit dem ich schon lange zusammenarbeite und der mit mir eine Form für dieses Lied gefunden hat, die es auch klanglich zu einem meiner liebsten eigenen macht. Auch das Glockenspiel und andere Elemente des Songs kommen von ihm. Danke für Deine Geduld, Simon! Dank geht auch raus an Woosterhausen – immer wieder schön, mit Dir zusammenzuarbeiten, auch ganz spontan und ohne konkrete Ahnung, wohin die filmische Reise geht. Ich freue mich sehr darüber, dass der Song nun Bewegtbild-Zuhause hat. Last but not least freue ich mich sehr über die Unterstützung meines Labels Unseralleins, ohne das der Song bisher nicht so viele Ohren erreicht hätte. Danke vielmals, Jo!

Puh, was für eine Rutschpartie durch das matschige Gelände dieses Jahres. Alles anders, vieles weniger, Diverses beklemmend, manches tröstlich. Und zwischendrin, bei allem Wissen um das relative eigene Glück, stets die Erinnerung an bessere Zeiten – oder Menschen, die wie bessere Zeiten sind (und in diesem Song Erwähnung finden). „Kein Sommer“ ist mir aus dem Nichts heraus bis ans Herz gewachsen und ich freue mich, wenn Ihr mir aus der digitalen Ferne, die manchmal auch zur Nähe werden darf, zuhört.

https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/1y8OGA2uqlnxKWsJdUNqkV

https://open.spotify.com/track/1y8OGA2uqlnxKWsJdUNqkV

„Kein Sommer“, die erste deutschsprachige Veröffentlichung seit Anbeginn der November-Zeitrechnung im Jahr 2014, erscheint am 17.12.2020 überall dort, wo Ihr Musik liket, savet, zu Playlisten hinzufügt und sogar hört. Es hat Jahre gedauert, aus dem schützenden Schatten einer anderen Sprache hervorzutreten und wer weiß, vielleicht verkrieche ich mich auch schon bald wieder dorthin zurück. Wer diesen Moment der Schutzlosigkeit mitverfolgen, sich meine nervöse Freude vorstellen oder einfach den Song pre-saven will, folgt diesem Link:

https://smarturl.it/novembermekeinsommer

What’s more exciting than waiting for the release of your music friends‘ new songs? Right, going on tour with them and listen to these songs every night! In plain language this means we’ll be on the road with René Neumann, who kindly invited us to share some Rastplatzromantik between these shows in April:

02.04. Berlin, Wildenbruch – René Neumann / November Me
03.04. Halle, Café Ludwig – René Neumann / November Me
04.04. Erfurt, Füchsen – René Neumann / November Me

Thanks for your elegant voices, lovely people at  Heimathafen Neukölln!