PNN HHV Records 3 Items

CD is missing. Still in shrink but opened with hype sticker. Cracked corner. Vinyl is very close to NM.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting late in the evening just before sunset at Chlodwigplatz in Cologne. For a few years I sat here almost every evening with my best girlfriend, until the café we liked so much fell prey to gentrification and general indifference. For that long, we just sat here in this place and watched people rush to the train stop, go shopping, or heading home. Usually at some point, a homeless person we know briefly came by and we gave him some money. The square and its people are a mixture of very beautiful and incredibly ugly. It is full of contradictions. Like so many things in life. Chlodwigplatz is the heart of this part of town where I have lived for over 20 years. Sometimes I see Julian walking by, somehow elated and always elegantly dressed; we greet, talk briefly, maybe he goes to do sports or to his apartment a few streets away to make music. With Julian, I never really know whether he is happy or very sad. But you can see right away that he feels a lot. Probably we both live here in this city, in this neighborhood, for exactly this one reason. This evening, the sky over the city is a sea of light and colours. The unique meteorological spectacle of nature is reminiscent of impressionist painting, and it is so overwhelmingly beautiful that the social networks are full of photos of this orgy of orange, yellow, blue and gray. It looks like the sky is on fire. I have to think back to this sight when I hear "Sky Without Colours" for the first time and look at the cover. The artwork by Frederike Wetzels and Franziska Stetter for Julian's first solo album looks like a minimalist, reduced abstraction of my memory: a calm surface that very gradually goes from a cool blue to warm reddish colours at the bottom of the picture. But in contrast to the described moment, so colourful and euphoric, the title of the album sounds like a deep melancholy, telling you something about absence and loss. In fact, this album is carried by a very special emotion, it is not a work that communicates with the outside world in bright colours and loud words. Instead, it functions like an inverse image of that glowing sky over the city, almost bursting with intensity: it rests entirely within itself, and yet it burns ablaze. Julian Stetter simply turns the inside out, but he does this without pathos, without kitsch. He gently shifts the lines between club and pop, between song and track, - like a painter he blurs the boundaries (and his traces) and lets the transitions slowly blur. Aydo Abay is Julian's voice, moving through him and through the album, expressing, formulating, giving voice to all that the producer himself lacks the words for. In the beautiful title track "Sky Without Colours", in the floating "No Cure" and finally in the slightly gloomy broken "Mountain Of Geeks" you think you hear Neil Tennant singing, so beautiful, so clear and precise, androgynous and always a little sad Abay sounds here. In the instrumental sketches Julian draws on his long and successful experience as a composer of soundtracks and music for film and theater. The opener "Calm" and especially the last track "Sleep", which embrace the album from both sides, are such little masterpieces that, between ambient and the exceedingly nuanced and careful use of sounds and rhythm, invite the brain to take nightly walks. And there is always this emotional ambivalence, laughing and crying eyes at the same time, looking forward, confidently saddened. Hardly a straight bass drum, no fat beats, - Julian Stetter doesn't need any imperatives at all for an album that sounds musically as well as atmospherically like from one cast; it is rich in spirit, intensity and resilience, full of elegance, passion and of excellent timing. Deep down, it is animated by a remarkably self-assured humility. Listening to "Sky Without Colours" and writing about it actually helped me perceive the person behind producer and DJ Julian Stetter differently. The next time I see him at Chlodwigplatz, I will still ask myself whether he is happy or sad. Only the sky, I now see with different eyes.