With springtime comes rebirth: of the EXBERLINER website and this long moribund blog, among other items of minor fancy. But, of course, birth and death are deeply interconnected, no less in pop music which recycles its trends every 15 years or so, excepting minor changes in drug preference and the parting of hair. The same can be said about Eastertime, when the Xtian god is replaced by a baby chicken which, like many a popstar, is ripe for premature consumption.
But my mirthful perfidy should not be seen as a mockery of the mortal. It has been a sad week for the Berlin music scene, with the suspected suicide of HTRK guitarist Sean Stewart, a man much beloved by the city’s late-night and early morning denizens. Though I did not know Stewart except in passing, we shared many mutual friends: these friends are now distraught. As my chosen style of literary communication is often hijacked by accusations of inappropriate irony, I’ll keep my expressions brief and wish the best to those who loved him. And keep you posted on any additional information should it appear appropriate.
In the meantime: One late-blooming achiever takes on the role of another this weekend, as Peaches Christ Superstar elevates HAU1 in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ultimate resurrection tale. Unless you’re Jewish, as Peaches is, in which case the jury remains out. Or, at least, well-hung. Former sidekick Gonzales, who staged his own rebirth, this decade, as saloon pianist, also returns. Much like myself, Peaches is inching toward declarations of earnestness regarding her choice of material, and few are believing it. But they should, as Berlin is the city of second chances.