Matthias Egersdörfer & Fast zu Fürth

It can happen that this person calls you. You’re not careful and answer the call. You chat cautiously, as if you were serving twelve long-stemmed champagne glasses while walking over three sleeping German shepherds. Afterward, this person claims you said things that—God knows—you’d never even considered in your wildest dreams. Now you can either call a lawyer right away or throw a kitchen buffet out the window. In the case of *Fast zu Fürth*, an emergency call rings out that only those in the know can hear. Shortly thereafter, these four men come together and create a song that gives a melody to their sorrow and manages to put their deep heartache into words. Tilo Heider lays down an airy foundation with his drums, upon which the swinging minuet is built.
Lothar Gröschel pulls and drags his accordion along with an inner, seething calm. The high-born Robert Stephan blows and plays the organ, weaving a framework of madness and fervently setting the roof trusses ablaze. And perched on the chimney, the man from Egersdorf sings and rants until he loses what little sanity he has left. And where the power of words ends, he begins to dance like a tipsy squirrel. The female listeners sit with their mouths agape, marveling at how beautifully these four men shatter the world’s sorrow with their holy wrath and flower-scented devotion. That is certainly true.
P.S.: Forget that old Deutsche Post slogan that craves heartfelt sympathy: “Why not give us a call?”