Cover Story MODERAT 20 <strong>Issue</strong> <strong>Four</strong>
Moderat Cover Story words by Gesine Kühne photos by Robert Rieger This summer, Berlin loses one of its most iconic acts to an undetermined hiatus. As Moderat begins what could be their final festival tour, we join them and talk transitions: past to present, and urban sprawls to garden walls. Moderat: the chimeric brainchild of techno giants Modeselektor and Apparat. Although their name means ‘moderate’ in German, their sound is anything but: sombre and sophisticated, exciting and often painfully lush. Moderat is a play on words, on genre, on sound and vision, and on what it means to be a live band. By definition a supergroup, the Berlin-based producers wear their status as ambassadors of the city with a casual air. They smile and cajole off stage, and let their music do the serious talking. Like many of Berlin’s closely-cherished heroes, they are of the city but not from it, hailing from small-town Germany and finding their futures in the grimy basement parties of the late ‘90s. Gernot Bronsert and Sebastian Szary’s Modeselektor is all punch, sex, grit and grime. A cross-section of ‘90s boom bap, stuttering vocal samples and bass drops that can feel like G-force training, as euphoric synths wrench the listener in all directions. It’s a union of blissful paradox – where Modeselektor thumps, Apparat whispers. Sascha Ring’s soulful dream-pop delights the ear with vocals that walk the line between the acrobatic and the strained, on a tapestry of nimble beats. Apparat skirts the radio mainstream but always manages to keep things off-centre, cementing his place as one of music’s countercultural superstars. Moderat lives an amphibious existence between both sounds: all the sensitivity and intricacy of Apparat, delivered with the take-no-prisoners moxie of Modeselektor. It’s a cocktail that wins hearts across the globe, and last year sold out Berlin’s massive Velodrom in a matter of minutes. Make no mistake: this band is loved in this town, a fact that makes this a painful year for fans. On September 2nd, Moderat will take to the stage at Wuhlheide where they’ll say an indefinite Auf wiedersehen. Until then, they’ll court the summer festivals, filling parks and melting heads with their visually stunning live set. We join them on the road to Reims in the heart of provincial France, where they will headline La Magnifique Society. It’s a brief foray: a weekend getaway with a 14-hour drive each way. It’s a lot of distance to cover for a one-hour set, but it’s the kick-off for festival season, and with a further 28 shows to go, Moderat have more experience and grit than to quiver at overnight bus journeys, sleeping to the ambient hum of an engine a metre or so beneath their pillows. What is life on the road for Moderat? Backpacks with fresh underwear, packets of cigarettes and pressed baguettes from a sandwich toaster say ‘student digs’ rather than ‘club circuit celebrities’. Laughing, Szary insists that the toaster is one of the bus’s most valuable possessions: “A sandwich gets about 300% better when you grill it in a sandwich maker!” Compared to the band’s early days, he has a point – a sandwich toaster is a step up. “In the very beginning, we drove ourselves and shared a hotel room,” says Sascha. The Moderat project began in 2002 – the trio writing their own software so they could jam together, since what they needed wasn’t available off-the-shelf. They produced their first EP the following year. Auf Kosten der Gesundheit (At the Cost of Health) emerged to a flood of positive reviews, but the title and subsequent six-year hiatus hinted at a trying time behind studio doors. Nevertheless, in 2009, Moderat released their first full-length record: a self-titled opus of post-minimal, club-ready hits. Trampolining off the success of the first EP, Modeselektor’s Hello Mom and Happy Birthday!, as well as Apparat’s collaborative LP, Orchestra of Bubbles with Ellen Allien, Moderat was an unquestionable success. Despite their decade-long success, Gernot, Szary and Sascha have managed to remain grounded, avoiding the tropes of inflated egos with characteristic nonchalance. They still leave their hotel rooms to explore the surroundings of their latest gig, be it a city or somewhere more remote. “I mean, I grew up in a village, kind of, so I always have a need for green,” Sascha says. “Previously, I satisfied that desire by motorcycling into the woods, for example. Now I’ve found something that fits my age better. I drive to my piece of land, to my garden.” All three members have bought land just outside Berlin where they’ve each built houses – Sascha’s, next to a pond; Gernot’s, near the open countryside. “I realised that my job is done all over the world, but 99.9% of everything happens in huge cities, so I don’t need to live in one any more,” Gernot says. “Back in the day, we destructively exploited our bodies,” he adds, explaining some of the reasons why the trio have turned away from urban living. “We only worked at night, then when we were done around five or six in the morning, we’d have another kebab and a beer and go to bed. We’d get up around two or three in the afternoon. We wasted so much time this way, but now we’re trying to optimise our lives. The environment we’re in and what’s in front of our door plays an important role; for example, no drunk tourists having the summer of their lives in Berlin.” Gernot continues, “That’s why the photos for <strong>LOLA</strong> were shot where we feel comfortable; where no one lives, where we don’t have to talk, and where no one recognises us. It happens a lot in the city: we go for a coffee, and all of a sudden we get a coffee for free because someone else offers to pay. That’s not bad, of course, but on the other hand you feel watched the whole time. Where we live now, north of Berlin, there is a little organic supermarket and they don’t care at all who shops there. They leave you alone,” he says, then laughs. “Unless you touch the vegetables.” As much as Gernot, Szary and Sascha love their newfound sanctuaries with their families, they equally love being on tour. “It is Tourlaub,” or ‘tour holiday’, Gernot says, smiling. “That’s the term our wives came up with. They don’t see touring as work.” But Sascha interjects, clarifying: “We wouldn’t call it Tourlaub, I mean, we are talking about sometimes playing every day for three weeks in a row. That really wears you out.” However, even on the road they manage to find a routine: “We have learned to live with a certain rhythm,” says Sascha. “During the day we wind down, and we still get very euphoric about our job on stage. It still gives us a huge kick.” Summer 2017 21