MusikExpress/Sounds 1986
Steve Lake
How Manfred learned to love black leather. It's getting harder for him to step into the pop-arena. Manfred Mann, 45, family-man with receding hairline has
problems playing the role of the youthful hero. Steve Lake assisted in getting over the identity-crisis. Who's the guy wearing a black leather suit and sunglasses? The bearded guy who is frowning into his tea-cup? Yeah him. I think Iıve
seen him before. Of course... it's Manfred Lubowitz! Our favourite 45 year old white South-African! Who? You know, Manfred Mann! Are you kidding? No it's him, honest. Whew! Mr. Mann isn't too sure about that either. He is in transformation,
feeling uncomfortable like someone who is halfway through turning into a werewolf. It's always like that when he has to quit being M. Lubowitz, the guy who can take his dog for a walk without anyone noticing. The new leather suit - with
extravagant zips like a "Clash" outfit is making a lot of noise everytime he moves about uneasily on his chair (which he does a lot). "Have a cup, it's really good Earl Grey" he says, trying to appear relaxed. Thanks
Manfred, and what about all this stylish black leather? "Hmm, photo-shoot. The EarthBand-image is not the best I've noticed." Age, hair-loss..? "Yeah." He tells me about Steve van Zandt, who has been working at his
studio lately. "He looks absolutely normal, to be honest he is an ugly little guy really. And yet he projects a very unique identity, I think. You say 'Steve van Zandt' - and you imagine this gypsy-like person with bandanas and
earrings." And what do you see when you say Manfred Mann? "It's too vague, isn't it. I have to try and work out a deliberate normality, which adds up to an image or whatever you may call it," he says, laughing. "Maybe
it'll work if I wear this leather outfit and my favourite cap. I've seen the polaroids from the photo-shoot today, and if every photo comes out as good as those..." his fist slams down on the table, meaning, all problems solved. Not
that he thinks image is important. "My step-daughter always tells me that image is everything. I donıt believe that." Every record-company has got a big filing cabinet full of old photos of forgotten beauties, he says. "I mean
if you are looking for a commercial female singer, you wouldn't say: I need a fat one with a big chin" would you. But that's what Alison Moyet looks like! And who wants to see a bald small guy in a baggy suit and a sweater? Not me. No
one, correct. But if that small guy happens to be Phil Collins, everyone wants to see him." Manfred Mann's Earth Band, you might have guessed it, have released a new album. It's called 'Criminal Tango' and among the singer/songwriter
material - e.g. the old Joni Mitchell song "Banquet" I've found some surprising tracks. 'Going Underground' by The Jam and 'Do Anything You Wanna Do', a hit for Eddie & the Hot Rods several years ago. Musicians of Mann's
generation must have taken this for Punk Rock when it was first published. He gives me a stern look over the frame of his spectacles when I make the remark. Do you think they still have any significance (you always have to prod him a bit to
get an answer). Deep sigh. "In this business too many presumptions are made too quickly. I know Punk is history, but at home I mainly listen to that kind of stuff and I think a lot of it is very good material. The arrangements are simple
and the home-made productions sound dated, but the songs... I'd like to do some of them on future albums. And I always liked 'Going Underground'." Manfred Mann starts singing, swinging his cup from side to side like a beer-mug.
"Underground, we're going underground..." He is almost looking happy. "What a great song! And I think it would be useful for other people to open up to that era again. Not all of these guys were singing let's go trash a
pub." It took three years to record Criminal Tango. That's slower than Frankie Goes To Hollywood and Fleetwood Mac. But Mann didn't spend all that time to rummage through the archives of Punk! No, he got distracted by completely
different influences. Especially Thomas Dolby and Howard Jones and their way of working with machines and programmed synthesizers. "I havenıt heard anything extraordinary from them as pianists but they don't have to prove that, they have
chosen a different way. Their ideas... I am really impressed by what's in their heads. They have influenced my work so much, I had to get into the complexity of programming. The programming and sampling with the Fairlight has slowed down the
work on the album. You know, Iım blessed or should I say cursed with a very open mind and that's why I get distracted sometimes. I listen to a - say - Howard Jones record and I think oh that's fantastic, how did he do those sound effects? And
then I go and buy a terribly expensive computer..." Manfred cringes at the memory. "And then I sit for months trying to find out how it works. After a period of three years I had to face the fact that computers and synthesizers
aren't things I can work with spontaneously. I mean I didnıt give up on it, I'm still using some of their features. They can be useful in creating a certain atmosphere." Despite using a lot of computer programming, which imitates rock
instrumentation, the album has a strong "live" feeling to it. (The Earthband joined the recording process when Manfred had finished giving the tracks 'substance'.) It sounds as if it had been recorded in three days and not three
years. "Yes, that's crazy. To create the mood we had in mind, we organized the program in a way it came out sounding like a live-recording sometimes. It sounds more like one of the older records, when production costs made it necessary to
rehearse a couple of weeks before we could go and record everything in a live situation." "Older records..." - it is a miracle to hear Manfred accept their existence. Years ago, if you wanted to make him go all paranoid you
only had to look casually in his direction and say "5,4,3,2,1 Manfred?" "You know, a couple of years ago when I was at a friend's place he put on 5-4-3-2-1. It was fantastic. I thought: why did I have a problem with this all
those years? This is great! Then I noticed that something was different. I said, is there something wrong with the speed of your record player and he said, itıs going a bit too fast. And I knew the mistake Manfred Mann had made all those
years: we always played too slowly! In the studio I started to change absolutely everything into a faster tempo. All this technology you know. But Iım not complaining..." In England Manfred Mann is inseparably linked to Bronze Records
- a label which all journalists have tried to avoid. What a repertoire! Motörhead, Uriah Heep, Sally Oldfield - all of them very successful in Germany for some reason. But Bronze went bust two months ago. Manfred Mann got out just in time.
Still it is surprising to see him signed up with the Virgin linked 10 label where he is in even more obscure company: The Flying Pickets, the melancholy poetess Anne Clark and the Welsh gnome Aled Jones. The German branch of Virgin initiated
the contract. "Udo Lange (Virgin boss in Munich) played our material at a meeting of Virgin International, and two of the smaller British labels where very interested. 10 Records seemed to be the better one. I liked the fact that they
werenıt interested in MMEB as a brand product, because you can't say our sales-figures in England have been impressive during the last eight years..." He has to laugh at his own words, and still it is sad but true: in Britain Earth
Band couldn't get rid of their records even for free. Does he suffer from a lack of respect in his home-country? Manfred gives a cynic smile: "I wouldn't use the word suffer. Professionally I am disappointed but personally it is very
convenient. Because I can lead a very private life. No one bothers me. That's wonderful. And it's nice to come over here once in a while, buy some leather pants, pose a bit and act like a star. If I had to choose between privacy and fame I
would always choose privacy. My private life is very important to me." And if "Do Anything" sells in England as expected at 10 Records? "I would be... delighted, but they would also make me do things. I don't enjoy
appearing on talk-shows and getting asked: "and what did you do since Mighty Quinn, Manfred." He shudders at the thought. "I donıt know if I could do it. But I think as a professional I'd do it anyway." "Pro"
is almost a bad word in some places and conjures up the image of a miserable paid-for-the-job musician who grudgingly does his job. Inspiration? Forget about it, that's for poets. Manfred is a down to earth craftsman. He has got more
musicianship than most people know, but he has decided to work in a business where a demonstration of musicianship provokes nothing more than a shrug. Who needs a ten-minute piano solo on a pop-record? "I don't play music I donıt like. I
would never do that! And it wouldn't work - although it did in the sixties. I have got to work within certain limits, but some day I will leave this genre for a while. Do you know those Windham Hill, New Age Music records?" Now it's my
turn to shudder at a thought. Yes, I know them. "I really like this stuff. I would like to do an album of this kind. Just me and Mick Rogers. A whole album of improvised music, very calm, very subtle, but as themes I would choose
well-known Rock-songs. A large proportion of the album would be just layers of sound, varying in rhythm and structure and then the themes, God only knows', Blinded (here the transl. shudders at the thought) - which get the listenerıs
attention. I am certainly going to do something like that. But first I have to learn to work more effectively as far as the completion of MMEB-albums is concerned. Otherwise Iıll never find the time." I remember the last MMEB album
release. During the PR tour of 'Somewhere in Afrika' things didn't go well between journalists and Manfred. When we met in Munich he had reduced his means of communication to an impatient growling; he refused to talk about the album he was
supposed to be presenting. When I asked him if there were musicians who resented him because of his South-African background, he started a long sermon about the general political ignorance of musicians. "Oh I probably said that but I
didn't mean to put it that way. I have always resented people telling people what to think. I donıt like politicians telling me what to think. I feel uncomfortable with preachers of any religious faith trying to convert me. And I feel
especially uncomfortable when I... have had too much tea. Earl Grey... it's a diuretic, you know." May I just ... thank you. He returns with a relaxed smile. "That's better. Where was I?... And Iı'm extremely annoyed if a musician
tells me what to think. And still... I don't resent Steve van Zandt singing ('I Ainıt Gonna Play Sun City') That's OK, but sometimes with musicians and politics it's..." he grimaces, shrugs (leather-jacket making a hell of a noise) and
gives a thumbs-down. "... you know. It seems childish to me. Those guys on the Sun City album are no experts on South-African politics. They don't need to be. They concentrate on the essential part. I'm sure most people in Band Aid
didn't comprehend the economic system of Ethiopia and didn't understand the reason for the catastrophe. Maybe it isn't necessary. Anyway: I don't want my statements to be understood as the only reasonable point of view." Did you get a lot
of feedback on Somewhere? "Some. But mainly I remember the horrible promo-tour, when I had to talk about politics all the time. Every journalist brought up the topic. 'Criminal Tango' is just a collection of songs, no big concept, and
that's why the interviews are more like a.... chat. Very well. But with the African thing I had to give so many explanations about the system down there that it got to me. First of all the album was a musical statement. Sure it expressed my
political opinion. But first of all it was about music. But nobody, nobody asked anything about the music." Manfred looks at his watch. "How about finishing the interview? You have heard enough by now, haven't you? It's getting
late, and I have to join the record company people for dinner." You sound as if it were a punishment. "Iıd like to get it over with let's put it this way. Would you like to join us?" Half an hour later we're in a small bistro
in Schwabingen. Maybe it's the full moon, I don't know... but our artist is not a hesitant guest at the dinner table. The Werewolf-transformation from Manfred Lubowitz to Manfred Mann is coming to completion. There is a wild look in his eyes
as he is dominating the conversation for the following hours. He attacks the wine and entertains the table with terribly dirty jokes about sex in the desert - with camels. And worse... I overhear people at a table nearby: "Who's the guy
in the black leather suit? I've seen him before . Oh I know...it's Manfred Mann." "No!" "If I tell you so, it's him. It's him, honest." Thanks to Annette Grah for translating this from the original German article
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