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Wäldchengarten
...In Preparation Of Machines To Fall

Album DK 2002 on KFI Records label
Electronic (Noise, Ambient)

cd comes in transparent plastic envelope with a fold-out sleeve with a piece of short fiction: "And there I was. Staring down the road. It was as if the bus had just left and I was too late to catch a ride. Not that I had to get on any bus, but you know that feeling, right? There are so many things you want to do, so many things you need to do, but yet always so much that fucks it up for you in some way or another. I put all my effort in the left pocket. Tried to figure out what to do. "What the hell do i do now?". I got no answer, so I went home. I the days that followed I started to talk to my self. In the beginning I was able to keep it inside my head, you know, on a thought-basis. But later it got more pronounced. I started asking myself, if I had any plans for the evening, how many beers I should buy in the store and had actual arguments with myself, whether or not to cancel my newspaper subscription. Later again i started referring to my self as "we". Like an old married couple, except that i wan't old, a couple or merry. "We think..." and "no, we can't because..." Maybe one had something to say, maybe not, but something definitely had to get out somehow. Nobody just didn't pay attention anymore. No matter how loud or how long you screamed and yelled, no one would react, not even a blink with the eye, indicating some sort of, i dunno, movement? in that very split second you'd have eyecontact. No one. And then the conclusion inevitably would be, that it didn't matter. You tried being someone for somebody or at least doing something. But it didn't work. Not that one would one's selfesteem or anything like that, everything just lost it's meaning, relevance and purpose. It's that simple. Maybe there were hidden or long forgotten resources that one could draw on. maybemaybemaybe Now i'm here contemplating my ashtray. A short glance at the window, my look never reaches the garden and then back at the ashtray. I'm my own friend now, i'm my own audience and i have my own entertainer. Now what more could a guy ask for?"

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