anyway any discussion of the Beatles biopics kind of has to keep in mind that they’re not for us they’re for my friend who asked me if george was ‘the one yoko was married to’
anyway any discussion of the Beatles biopics kind of has to keep in mind that they’re not for us they’re for my friend who asked me if george was ‘the one yoko was married to’
I got curious about this after reading this post about Klaus and Paul by @thewalrusespublicist, and saw that there was some interest in the interview in the comments, but that people hadn't been able to find it.
Original article (German) here (Süddeutsche Zeitung, 2010)
Quick & dirty translation into English by: moi
• Humor translates poorly, especially without audio. I tried my best, but can’t guarantee I captured the tone perfectly.
• Apologies for the n-slur in the quote from Klaus’s grandmother. I left it in because it illustrates Klaus’s background and the spirit of the times.
• Speaking of: context is important, so I decided to translate the whole thing.
• Klaus is 5 years older than Paul — I must have known this, but didn’t realize how it must have impacted their relationship in Hamburg before now.
• I wasn’t able to find other English translations, which is why I did this one, but if you know of any, or have done one: let me know and I will add a link. And sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore anyone’s work.
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Klaus Voormann: I should explain something right away: I have a real problem with dyslexia.
SZaW: Reading the menu?
Voormann: I have to read it out loud. I have to hear it to understand it. If I say "Knoblauchspeck mit Hausbrot" out loud, it’s there right away, and I won’t forget it.
SZaW: Is it an artists’ affliction?
Voormann: I don’t know. But it caused many hang-ups and problems I’m still carrying around with me.
SZaW: Were the 1950’s that bad?
Voormann: It was bad for me in the sense that none of my teachers realized I was dyslexic. The teacher said, “read from the book,” and I wanted to disappear from the earth. Chemistry didn’t interest me, historical dates didn’t mean anything to me, but the teachers wanted to beat it into you.
SZaW: But then you quit school to go to Hamburg, where, in the autumn of 1960, you discovered an obscure band from Liverpool called “The Beatles.” You can’t have been twenty yet [he was 22], I believe George Harrison was only 17. Stupid question: What were they like?
Voormann: Loud. I heard this noise from a basement at the Reeperbahn, and followed it. It grabbed me right away, because this was music I could hear and see right there in Hamburg: not a disc, no radio, but real people playing! I was amazed by the momentum they unleashed with only three instruments.
SZaW: And you just went to them?
Voormann: During the break, I went to them and introduced myself. They looked incredibly strange: Studded jackets, hair in a DA, the boots [with the fur, just kidding]. Back then, I worked as a graphic designer for Hörzu und Kristall, but I wanted to design record sleeves. John Lennon pointed me to Stuart Sutcliffe and said, “talk to him, he’s our artist.”
SZaW: You wouldn’t expect studded jacket music to appeal to a coddled boy from the Berlin upper class.
Voormann: According to my mother, it was boogie-woogie, “negro music,” from the jungle. But to me, the Beatles were a revelation, as if I’d suddenly learned to roller skate or race on a motorbike. Up to that point, there’s been jazz on the one side, classical music on the other. Suddenly, something fresh entered the scene. You could tell they didn’t speak for the elite, but for the simple people: the toilet cleaner getting off in the back [???], the pimp who thinks it’s hot, or a famous photographer who’s obsessed with it.
SZaW: Your family back home must have been pleased. Rumor has it your grandfather owned a whole district back in Berlin.
Voormann: My grandfather basically owned all of Heiligensee. He had shares in oil companies and South African diamond mines. Unfortunately, I didn’t meet him. He died before the inflation of 1923.
SZaW: Lucky for him.
Voormann: That depends.
SZaW: So, all that money became worthless inflation-billions?
Voormann: As children, we were playing roulette with the bills.
SZaW: A pastime fitting your class.
Voormann: My grandmother used to go to Monte Carlo to gamble.
SZaW: With real money?
Voormann: Back then it was real. I would have loved to know my grandfather; he was a great guy. There are stories about him throwing gold coins in the air because he enjoyed the girls screaming and jumping, trying to catch them. He liked to go out, and he had other women. When he came home, he brought back a silver plate of oysters for my grandmother, his “little dove.” My grandmother got angry and kicked the plate out of his hand, and he said, “my little dove, I didn’t know oysters could fly.” Then they made up.
SZaW: It must have been a better world. Obviously, you diligently followed your piano lessons as a child.
Voormann: I played Chopin, performed in concerts, and I might have become a good pianist. But at the time, it felt too risky. My parents didn’t want it, and ultimately, I didn’t, either. And so, it was decided I should become a graphics designer.
SZaW: Coming from this world, entering the sweaty cellars of Hamburg must have felt like a descent into hell.
Voormann: Of course. It wasn't a protest, per se, but I went away, went to art school in Hamburg, and broke free from my family bonds. This music thing wouldn’t leave me alone, this love came from the gut. The Beatles added the heart.
SZaW: The Hamburg Beatles were a five-piece band, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Stuart Sutcliffe and the drummer, Pete Best. Times must have been rough. Albert Goldmann writes in his biography that John killed a sailor on the Reeperbahn. And Stu Sutcliffe’s sister keeps saying Lennon killed her brother.
Voormann: Of course there were fights where Stuart got beaten up, not by John, but by blokes whose girlfriends liked Stuart.
SZaW: And Lennon was supposed to be a closet case, who had an affair with Stuart . . .
Voormann: Complete nonsense. The two of them knew each other since they went to school together in Liverpool, after all. I liked Stuart, too, and we, as guys, would hug each other from time to time. He was a charismatic artist, that was all. In my whole life, I never met anyone who saw and perceived as much as this little boy—no matter if it was a bird or the sound of a train.
SZaW: And why was this good-looking boy so ashamed on stage he stood with his back to the audience?
Voormann: He wasn’t ashamed of his looks; he was ashamed he didn’t know what he was doing on guitar. Not that rock’n’roll has a lot to do with actual music. "Tutti Frutti," for instance, has three repeating chords, and all the bass needs to play is the root note. Great musicianship isn’t part of it. For Stuart, it was difficult, because not only was he not a musician, he didn’t want to be one. Still, his love of rock’n’roll was enormous, and his charisma was on par with Elvis Presley. [KLAUS!!!!]
SZaW: Stuart was posing, whereas George Harrison practiced until his fingers bled.
Voormann: George had a very ambitious way to make licks his own. He couldn’t improvise chords on the spot like Eric Clapton; he had to craft them and put them together. If anyone fit the type of lead guitarist, it was Paul McCartney.
SZaW: Before he became the bassist, Paul played second guitar back in Hamburg.
Voormann: Most of the time. Later, in the "Top Ten" or in the "Star Club,” he also played the piano, simple stuff.
SZaW: Because rock'n'roll isn’t real music.
Voormann: Well, it isn’t.
SZaW: And yet, you wanted to play rock’n’roll at all costs?
Voormann: At some point, I bought Stuart Sutcliffe’s bass for 200 DM, because he wanted to paint. Later, I actually turned out to be a good bass player.
SZaW: because you spent a lot of time watching from the audience?
Voormann: I had the tools from my classical training, but I had no idea how to play on a stage. I played the songs I heard on the Reeperbahn at home, by myself.
SZaW: Stu Sutcliffe couldn’t, and didn’t want to play. Did you want to take his place?
Voormann: Maybe. During their final show together, I went to John and said, “Well, John, would it be possible for me to play bass?” And he said, “Sorry, Klaus, Paul already bought a bass. He’s going to be our new bassist.”
SZaW: Close, but no cigar.
Voormann: Hm.
SZaW: You came close, but when world fame started, you weren’t on board. Is that a good way of putting it?
Voormann: Hm, yes it is.
SZaW: Do you regret it?
Voormann: It would be interesting to know what would have happened. They wouldn’t have been with four, but with five. Would it have worked? Would I have fit in? The Stones were a five-piece.
SZaW: A six-piece, originally. They fired piano player Ian Stewart, because he wasn’t pretty enough.
Voormann: They certainly couldn't have accused me of that.
SZaW: Ex-Beatle Pete Best sometimes goes on revival tours, and still feels cheated.
Voormann: And if he lives to be a hundred years old: Pete Best is not a good drummer. He simply didn’t have the charisma for a band this powerful. Maybe I lacked that charisma, too, but it was Ringo who got things swinging.
SZaW: Like Pete Best, you narrowly missed your chance.
Voormann: If you look at the musical roots of the Beatles, I would have fit better, in some ways, than Paul.
SZaW: Ja?
Voormann: Many people will take this the wrong way if I'm saying it here, but I approach bass playing completely differently. I would have stood for something primitive, earthy. If I’d been in the band, I would have used my influence to push for more rhythm and blues.
SZaW: For the Hamburg cellar dwellers.
Voormann: I know that John could have been closer to these roots, that later came through in a few numbers. But from the moment they became Lennon-McCartney, that disappeared completely—"Please Please Me", "She Loves You", "Help" and everything. They took off towards a completely new style of music, and I probably would have been an obstacle.
SZaW: Unlike Paul McCartney, who seduces the camera with his puppy eyes in Let It Be.
Voormann: The charlatan.
SZaW: But important, because of the girls.
Voormann: Without Paul, Beatlemania wouldn’t have happened. Paul is an entertainer; he can handle an audience. Different from John, who wasn’t a front man.
SZaW: He could be very forward on the Hamburg stage, when he greeted the audience with "Sieg Heil!"
Voormann: He was joking.
SZaW: Nazi jokes.
Voormann: All of that was unprofessional stuff. Professionalism came from Paul.
SZaW: Is it true John and Paul brought the mop top haircut back from Paris?
Voormann: They were there, but still: Stuart had the hairstyle first.
SZaW: Who cut his hair?
Voormann: Astrid Kirchherr. But I don’t want to revisit that story, it’s so embarrassing.
SZaW: Why not? Hamburg’s only contribution to the world’s cultural heritage.
Voormann: I was the first to have his hair cut in this style by Astrid, and then the others wanted it, too.
SZaW: Where is Stu Sutcliffe’s bass guitar now?
Voormann: I needed money at some point, and had it auctioned off at Sotheby’s for thirty- or forty-thousand Mark. Stu’s sister bitched and complained, theft, etc., and that’s why I only got a couple of thousand Mark. I wish I could undo the sale. I would like to have the bass.
it’s still so crazy to me that the guy who wrote this john and paul a love story book is a transphobe like ok dude if you showed up to mclennon monday we would kill you with hammers
sorry im still mad bc how are you gonna say “love story” “and i love him” “how two lost boys from liverpool fell for each other” when you have so much hatred for queer people i hope he dies. profiting off us when you can probably find more in depth analysis written by 26 year olds on tumblr for free