Toni Krahl | Yes, that's exactly how it was

He conjures up a life lived. In Berlin's Kulturbrauerei, at the launch of his debut solo album. On the small stage in the Palais, Toni Krahl conjures up memories with a slightly raspy voice. On the screen behind him, in sepia, is the old S-Bahn bridge at Schönhauser Allee, at the corner of Kastanienallee. Then, photos from the family album flicker into view: childhood, disco, first love, togetherness on the Baltic Sea beach, civil wedding, the birth of a daughter, many happy moments, professional successes, but also personal catastrophes, divorce, "the bright hours and the dark hours"... The blue passport – an indication that Toni Krahl and his band City were among the privileged GDR artists allowed to travel to the West to perform. He had no intention of staying there.

And yes, these new songs, like those by City, get under your skin. That's exactly how it was. Or something like that. Your own life so far flashes before your eyes. Crazy jam sessions, your first kiss, and learning, learning, learning again, weekends at the Haus der Jungen Talente (House of Young Talents) for jazz with Ruth Hohmann and Uschi Brüning, or at Bürgerpark Pankow, where the hottest bands performed... And dancing, dancing, dancing, until you're completely exhausted. And yes, even the drudgery, not just lugging the stroller up four flights of stairs, but also the briquettes for the old fireplace in the one-and-a-half-room apartment with an outside toilet and damp walls, the little one constantly catching a cold. And yet happiness lived in the back building in Prenzlauer Berg, a little paradise. At some point, your world turns upside down. Your life is turned upside down. And it remains a constant run.

"That's exactly how it was... something like that/ After all, it was a few years ago," says the title song of Toni Krahl's solo debut album.

His life in the East German workers' and farmers' state was full of ups and downs. At 19, he was sentenced to three years in prison for participating in a protest demonstration against the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia. "Anyone who remains silent has already betrayed themselves." And: "It takes a heart to confess." Although the sentence was commuted to a two-year suspended sentence, it was nevertheless unfair and unjustified. It also had side effects: his father, Franz Krahl, was removed from his position as department head at the "Neues Deutschland" editorial office and banished to the archives; a preferred punishment for comrades guilty of "misconduct" or their families. The same applies to his assignment to production: Toni Krahl was sent to the VEB "7. Oktober" machine tool factory, later working as a mechanic at the Charité hospital and as a delivery worker for the German Post Office, while also exploring music in various bands. Until he found his band in 1975: City.

He's the frontman, the singer, the face of this band. Even though the boss was actually Fritz Puppel. "But he did what I said," Toni Krahl explains mischievously. Then he corrects himself: "No, I absolutely need creative collegiality." And City demonstrated that, despite a few personnel changes; a colleague even stayed in the West. Their breakthrough came in 1977 with "Am Fenster." The following year, an eponymous LP was released in West Germany and (sic) in Greece. However, Amiga, the East German record company for "entertainment," was not allowed to release a single with the legendary song, which ultimately sold ten million copies (!) worldwide. And, of course, there are internal tensions within this band as well. When Georgi Gogow leaves, he defiantly says: "Without bass and without hair, with City through the 80s." An allusion to the sparse hair of most of the band members, in contrast to the departing Bulgarian. City fans also flock to the concerts of Gogow's newly formed band NO 55 without resentment. The famous "violin" returns after a few years. "Sometimes it goes downhill, sometimes it goes uphill," we hear from a new song by Toni Krahl.

When City disbanded after 50 years, the fan base was shocked. Toni Krahl explained the decision once again last Tuesday, admitting that he "felt like ash" the morning after their last joint performance and their last boozy farewell party: "What did we do?" But he is now convinced that it was the right thing to do. Drummer Klaus Selmke, who founded the band with Puppel in 1972, died in the first year of the coronavirus pandemic, having been seriously ill for some time. They repeatedly tried to encourage him to persevere until the anniversary, the half-century of the band. "Unfortunately, he couldn't do it. And without him, we didn't want to continue, didn't want to open a new chapter for City." Puppel also died last year.

There have been many farewells in Toni Krahl's life. After the "last round" with City, it's time for a new one. No time for sadness. Get up, keep going, keep singing. Don't disappoint the fans. Toni Krahl reveals: "I actually have a very sunny disposition; I'm a happy person even in the morning."

It's important to him to emphasize that his solo debut album is "no City scrap heap." It features only two songs, ideas first conceived among his friends but never realized, and only now realized with his new band, Die Kinx vom Prenzlauer Berg, and under the prudent supervision of producer André Kuntze. It's a legacy, a homage to the old band, so to speak. Undeniably, much of that remains in the new songs. How could it be otherwise? Not only because of the performer, but also because of the lyricist, who doesn't want to be called a poet and modestly introduces himself as a lyricist: Alfred Roesler-Kleint. He wrote numerous songs for City, although during the GDR era he often used a pseudonym. He wasn't well-liked "by the authorities," but all the more popular with the musicians. "Am Fenster," however, is based on a text by the Leipzig writer Hildegard Maria Rauchfuß. Oh, how passionately we once sang along to the song of longing for freedom without walls and borders: "I fly through the world... Nanananei, nanananei..."

When asked by "nd" to what extent the disappearance of the GDR in 1990 affected City as a source of friction and inspiration, and whether they also suffered from a loss of audience when the Wall fell and West German "competition" pushed into the East German market, Toni Krahl responded with a quote from Puppel. The friend encouraged his friends at the time: "Don't worry, one day the East Germans will dig out the old records, want to hear the songs they danced to, loved, and lived to. Then we'll be back on top." And that's exactly how it was.

And that had less or nothing to do with Ostalgie (nostalgia for the former East Germany), but rather with the songs and the lyrics. City, like several other East German rock bands, had a loyal fan base throughout. They certainly never had to warble like washed-up West German pop singers at furniture store openings or at used car sales stands. Toni Krahl recalls that, however, quite a few East German artists were in a state of panic after reunification, faced existential hardship, and sought jobs in the insurance industry.

However, even and especially capitalist society challenges artists, should challenge them. The new songs by "Toni," as the new brand describes them, speak plainly. They tell the story of a woman who is in the prime of her life—"at 50, she's not old hat yet"—and yet is coldly fired when she develops breast cancer. For Toni Krahl, this reveals the ugly face of capitalism. He wants to show solidarity with the women who are pushed aside in this merciless society.

And of course, for him, the son of Jewish emigrants, both old and new-found anti-Semitism is "a truly terrible thing. I suffer from it." He sees current events in the context of the "great drama that has been going on in the Middle East for decades." Toni Krahl, a member of the German-Israeli Society, as a badge on the lapel of his jacket testifies, explicitly emphasizes that he regrets the victims on both sides. He outs himself as a pacifist and reports: "'Peace must be armed,' they said in the GDR." The musician leaves it to the press present to ponder the similarities to statements made by today's German politicians. His confession on the debut album is frank and unequivocal: "I just imagined it / 'A better and more beautiful world / where one stands by another / I just pictured it / The gentle end of violence / Where no one pays with pain anymore... The reality is terrible."

That's how it is. And one thing is certain: the new Toni remains the same, yet reinvents himself alongside the Kinx, experienced, professional musicians. GDR citizens socialized in the GDR and trained in dialectical skills can only interpret his remark on Tuesday in Berlin in this way. In a twist on a classic of world literature that was often quoted in the GDR, Toni Krahl declares with a wink: "A lot will change, but everything will stay as it is."

At the end of the small but excellent live concert at Berlin's Kulturbrauerei, there were, of course, the classics, or as Toni Krahl says, "the crown jewels." Nanananei, nanananei...

"That's exactly how it was. Toni Krahl and the Kinx from Prenzlauer Berg," CD available from September 19; German tour from November 22, tickets at www.eventim.de

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