Soulful music and hovering birds

It is almost exactly four years to the day since they last invited us for an interview at the same spot: in the basement of Dieter Meier’s Zurich residence, in the studio of the sound tinkerer Boris Blank. The title of the album back then said it all: “Toy” underlined the playfulness of this duo, who have always stayed true to themselves without ever repeating themselves. “Point Yello” is the name of the latest work by Meier (75) and Blank (68), and in conversation the two prove, even in the 40th year since their debut “Solid Pleasure”, that a fresh, exuberant attitude has nothing to do with one’s age.

We last met four years ago. The world has changed since then. Drastically so, through Covid-19. How much do you think about that as artists?

Dieter Meier: Covid-19 is a catastrophe, and not only for the cultural scene. But the cultural scene is hit particularly hard in its very lifeblood when no performances can take place. The human need to make culture and to experience culture cannot be killed off. Just as new green shoots spring from the ground after a forest fire, culture will shoot skywards after this pandemic like a volcanic eruption.

Boris Blank: What has also changed in recent years is the flood of information that crashes over us. Today we are even told when some ancient woman in Karachi has had a wisdom tooth pulled. Or whatever Mr Trump lets slip each day – the whole world has to hear about it. I think that increasingly dulls us and makes us all lethargic.

Dieter Meier: But when you, Boris, are here in the studio…

BB: …then I’m like the monk on the mountain. Then I don’t really care what’s going on around me. If I thought about everything that’s going on out there, I wouldn’t be able to make music any more.

Mr Blank, you have two albums on display here in the studio for everyone to see: “Bitches Brew” by Miles Davis and “Sextant” by Herbie Hancock.

BB: Those are my key records. On “Sextant” there’s that brilliant piece “Rain Dance”, on which Herbie Hancock used an Arp Odyssey, one just like this one here. (points to an old synthesizer). That was the reason I started making music. “Sextant” still sounds ultra-modern today. And that mixture of electronics and Miles’s genius on “Bitches Brew” – magnificent!

DM: Are there vinyl records in there?

BB: Of course.

DM: Can I borrow them some time?

BB: Yes, but handle them with care!

DM: Naturally.

Vinyl records are a good cue. I recently listened again to “Solid Pleasure”, Yello’s first album. The music hasn’t aged at all and sounds as fresh as ever.

BB: That’s a lovely compliment.

DM: That’s because Boris is incapable of following a trend. Boris Blank can really only do Boris Blank. He more or less invents himself as he makes music. It’s this originality that cannot age. Listen to Mozart or Beethoven. They sound fresh too. And then listen to the epigones who merely followed in their footsteps. All boring!

“Point Yello” is the latest proof of that. Although it is unmistakably Boris Blank from the very first note, the music never repeats itself.

BB: That’s the hunting instinct. You always want something new. That also has to do with music technology in the broadest sense. New tools keep coming onto the market that let you reach even deeper into the molecular structure of sounds in order to manipulate them. That encourages the play instinct.

Your last album, “Toy”, felt more playful. “Point Yello”, for all its buoyancy, has become earthier in its DNA – bluesier, in an abstract sense.

DM: OK, Boris has to answer that one.

BB: I don’t have an answer to that. I’m not a musician in the conventional sense, I’m a mood-maker. It may well be that the mood tips one way or the other now and then.

Perhaps the news about the old woman in Karachi influenced you.

BB: (laughs) Exactly. Who knows?

What’s the story behind “Point Yello”, the album title?

BB: The title is always the hardest part once we have an album together. Dieter called me from Buenos Aires: “Boris, I’ve got a title: Point Yello”. And I said: Wow! You feel immediately when a title hits the bull’s-eye.

DM: The title also has a meaning. It’s the point where people meet – for and with Yello. And there’s also “Point Blank”, a really great feature film.

Pun alert!

BB: (laughs)

DM: But the title also indicates that we’re dealing with a concentrate of Yello. “What’s the point?”, people often ask. Answer: “Point Yello”.

BB: Or “The Point Of No Return.” Or focal point. Or meeting point. People meet at Yello, and Yello gets to the point.

DM: You’re from Biel, aren’t you?

Yes.

DM: Like the writer who is dearest and most precious to me – Robert Walser.

Walser is a good cue. As is well known, he loved going for walks. You are always the first to be allowed to step into the sound spaces designed by Boris Blank and go for a walk there.

DM: Well, yes, that’s how it is.

During the walk you gather your thoughts and give the space a voice with words. “The Vanishing of Peter Strong” is a wonderful example of this. Perhaps the most opulent ultra-short radio film in the history of music.

DM: Yes, that was a first take. I went into the recording booth and actually only wanted to test the sound of my voice using a few words. Afterwards, I thought, I would write the actual lyrics. But Boris said: No, that stays as it is.

The first idea is usually the best. Is that true?

BB: Sometimes. There are moments when I have to tell myself: Right, that’s it, it’s finished. Leave it be! But I had to learn that first, because with these sound tools there would actually be endless possibilities.

One lovely aspect of your collaboration is that the music is created electronically, in keeping with our digital age, while the lyrics are written analogue on a Hermes Baby typewriter.

DM: The two go well together, because although Boris’s sounds are artificial, they are never cold. He’s like a painter mixing a new colour. I get drawn into this music because it has a soul.

The lyrics always only come about once the music is in place?

DM: Absolutely, yes. I’m always utterly fascinated when I can throw myself into these sound images. It’s an absolute pleasure. Mind you: Boris is extremely self-critical. Sometimes I have to say: That’s enough now, it’s absolutely perfect. You really don’t need to hang another four baubles on the tree now.

BB: (laughs) That’s true about the baubles. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. In the past I often packed more than half a dozen ideas into a single song. Back then I couldn’t stop decorating the tree. That was youthful urge. (laughs)

Fictional characters keep cropping up in Yello songs. The new album has song titles like “The Vanishing of Peter Strong”, “Arthur Spark”, “Running with Joe”. Have you set up a cabinet of all the characters you have created over the years?

DM: No. The music triggers something spontaneous in me. It flies towards me, but then quickly away again too. It’s quite different with Boris, who fights his way through the complex world of sound, which then remains. With me it’s like a bird that flies into this world of sound, is thrilled and hovers for a while. Then I fly away again.

BB: Incidentally, on “Arthur Spark” and also on “Basic Avenue” you can hear my voice. Dieter wasn’t there, so I lowered my voice a little with the help of a harmonizer. The whole thing was meant as a suggestion for him, showing where I could imagine his voice. But then he says: Boris, let’s leave it like that, it sounds great!