LOLA Issue Four

Cover Story
Moderat
“We are touring professionals,” adds Gernot. “We
toured as Modeselektor and Apparat before and during
Moderat, and we know all forms of touring: as a band,
as DJs with USB sticks, on buses, trains, planes, jets
and boats. We haven’t had a helicopter yet,” he laughs.
“When we get home the mode switches instantly
because our kids take over, and they aren’t interested
in what happened at Fabric, for example. Switching
modes quickly is actually quite nice.”
Szary agrees: “When I get home the first thing I do is
I make myself some coffee. Then I go outside, drink it,
and smoke a cigarette. Then I say, ‘Kids, come over, sit
down on my lap, because Papi would like to explain to
you what he has experienced.’ And after that, it is back
to normal: clearing out the dishwasher…”
In addition to giving them plenty to tell their children
about when they return home, Tourlaub allows
them to escape the routines of work, the record label,
studio and family time, to travel with friends. And
like friends, they listen carefully when any of the crew
members have personal matters to talk about. “We are
dependent on the crew,” Gernot explains. “They have
to give 110% so we can deliver 120%. Trust and being
nice to each other is essential.”
“There’s no one in our crew who is just a worker,”
Sascha adds. “They are all people we have known for
ages. Most of them are part of the crew for exactly
that reason. We grew together. We rarely have changes
within the crew, and that’s important.”
From the production manager to the technicians,
the crew work with the kind of intimacy that comes
from years of knowing each other. And Moderat
is the fulcrum, the three characters creating the
kind of balance needed to get through such punishing
tour schedules. Sascha is the contemplative
maverick who maintains the overview of production
plans and costs. Szary pursues new interests and
broadens his knowledge over coffee and cigarettes.
His interest in foreign climes has made him the socalled
travel minister, checking routes and researching
hotels for the band. Then there’s Gernot, the
cheeky, bright-eyed joker, who listens carefully and
is able to parse out solutions to whichever obstacles
present themselves. His demeanour and outgoing
nature make him the perfect candidate for handling
press and communication.
Maintaining a jovial spirit isn’t always easy. Back
on the bus, the clock reads half-past-midnight, and
Sascha looks uneasy. “I’m really worried that I won’t
get enough sleep,” he announces, sitting at the small
table on the lower deck of the double-decker bus, a
white nightliner with tinted windows. Christoph, the
lighting technician, points silently towards a bottle
of whiskey, but Sascha leaves the bottle untouched
and goes to bed in the tiny bunk that’s only just long
enough for his tall frame. He closes the curtain behind
him with a bright ‘shink!’, the heavy piece of fabric
creating something close to privacy. Sascha doesn’t
like touring on buses. “I don’t sleep very well on
them,” he mutters, from within his ersatz sanctuary.
The next morning, we cross the Belgian border. Szary
and Sascha are still sleeping, but Gernot is already on
the task at hand, discussing the gig, now mere
“WE STILL GET VERY
EUPHORIC ABOUT OUR
JOB ON STAGE. IT STILL
GIVES US A HUGE KICK.”
22 Issue Four