I was born at high noon in a small town up north.
It was wintertime and as
soon as I entered the scene
the first snowflakes started to fall.
That was the start of my life and
the beginning of a tremendous snow catastrophe
I listened to music from the very beginning,
starting with the music my parents used to listen to:
Billy Joel, Udo Lindenberg and The Beatles, Jim Croce, Ton Steine Scherben and so on.
I dug „Allein machen sie dich ein“ by the Scherben and
the way Rio sang the „Ey Mann“.
I liked the concert for two harpsichords and orchestra by
Bach too.
But my hero was Mozart.
Mozart outshone everything else.
I started playing the piano at the age of ten.
Soon after that I started composing.
I didn’t intend to, it just happened.
Since Mozart was my ideal, my
music was supposed to sound like his.
Later on I abandoned Mozart and
started writing songs.
I just wrote some lyrics, searched for some chords and
sang the words until a melody evolved.
It was simple.
„Ballad in D“ was written in those early days.
I think I was 16 or 17 then.
Then I discovered Tom Waits and
wanted to be him by all means.
And so I became his apprentice and
got myself a hat and
a few bottles of beer and
a few packs of cigarettes and
a torch to completely illuminate every corner of his universe.
Finally there was nothing new left to discover and I
stopped being Tom Waits.
Next one to meet was Bukowski.
What can I say
I started writing poems...
Soon after that Bob Dylan came by
And threw me down to the floor
I don’t remember how the whole thing started
Either I listened to the “Freewheelin’†album first
Or read all of his lyrics.
Anyway, everything I had written until that point
suddenly seemed pretty ridiculous to me.
And I quit writing for a long time.
Now and then a line came by
But it never led anywhere
For nothing I produced would
withstand before the severe court I
Presented my stuff to.
It didn’t matter how hard I tried
I never managed to be Bob Dylan
Since I couldn’t write anymore
I started to learn.
I listened to and wanted to learn everything
I analysed Mozart and Folk Music
I fed myself with harmonic studies and folk songs
I studied instrumentation and counter point
I felt my way into other people's patterns of thinking
Theories and dogmas
Always looking for something that would reinitiate my writing
But actually it got even less rather than more
Yet some day
When my brain was completely encrusted with theory
I remembered a few old songs
I had written without any intentions
Without any big and sublime thoughts
Without any plans
And they had everything I was
chasing after since I had met Dylan and Waits and so on
And I finally recognized that it’s not about
learning but about forgetting
And I stopped looking to the right and to the left
But concentrated on the way
That stretched out right in front of me.
Soon a line and a melody stopped by
But I didn’t judge them
By the laws of someone else
I didn’t judge them at all
But lured them
Like a shy bird
And finally they trusted me
And I wrote my first song in years
I think I’ll keep walking down this crooked path
And avoid the broad alleys
Paved by others before my time
I stand alone but I’m not lonesome
For Mozart, Bukowski, Dylan, Waits, Glenn Gould
They are all with me
And I'm calm, relaxed and finally clever enough
To know that I’m not them
But me.
Tom Oswald.
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