Mamama ritstoh üdi dëhnsi dëhnsai

altogether now!

2004-02-26T13:41:02Z

OK, come on, everyone! If you know the words, join in!

Fuh mehn fuhl ehndoh litaah , ehndoh litaah, ehndoh litaah
Dowisehndo siwehn do loi, siwehn do soi, iuwahn sin doh
Iss iss wihl iss wowosehndo

Come on! It's easy when you know how!

Dowisehndo siwehn do loi, siwehn do soi, iuwahn sin doh
Iss iss wihl iss wowosehndo, iss iss wihl iss wiwidondai
Wiwidondai

Yes, you! You at the back! Sing along!

*

Hi. I'm Klaus Blasquiz.

This was a rough transcript of a frankly rather depressing lunchtime we spent providing entertainment at an old people's home the other day. Lent is never a good time to repeatedly shout "Slaoss!" at the elderly, but you'd have thought that they would have been perked up a little by Janik Top's 23 minute bass solo. But they weren't. Most carried on knitting, and in the beautifully quiet sections of "Wurdah Itah" I clearly heard a woman say "who's nicked my mint imperials?"

It's an uphill struggle to convince people who lived through a couple of world wars that the prophet Nebehr Guhdatt has the answers to the rather grim problems that Earth faces in the 21st century. We handed out some leaflets afterwards, but everyone seemed more interested in cake.

Sometimes I think that I'm more interested in cake, to be honest. A nice madeira cake. Mmm. I'd better not let Christian hear this. Shh.

Xmas with Magma

2004-01-24T12:34:20Z

Sorry it's been a while since we caught up with you all. Christmas is never an easy time for us, as Christian doesn't really believe in celebrating it. He spends most of the time in his study, and if he overhears the sound of us enjoying ourselves, he'll burst in - at which point we have to hurriedly stand up, shaking maracas and chanting "Mamama ritstoh üdi dëhnsi dëhnsai" (rough translation: "deck the halls with just about anything except holly.")

I remember one year, I think it was just after "Kohntarkosz" came out, we spent Xmas in the studio trying to put together a follow up album. Christian, for some reason, was in a good mood (I suspect he'd been at the mulled wine) and had started talking to us in his native French, rather than all that bloody Kobaian. So I took advantage of the situation and suggested we all lightened up a little, and handed out some Santa hats. Christian didn't like it at first, but I explained that it's only what The Great Prophet Nebehr Gudahtt would have done. I even tried to make a little joke, saying that surely Nebehr Gudahtt would have had a Goodhat!

Christian smiled, I think for the first time in about 8 months. He put the hat on, and we did the next vocal take all wearing them. Janik Top took a photo for the archives.

mail woes

2003-11-10T22:43:21Z

hello.

We've been having some problems with our mail delivery recently. Didier has been waiting for some orange blossom scented candles, Paganotti won a Westlife CD on eBay, Klaus has been expecting a cheque from his mum (being in Magma is a tough business and not always financially remunerative.)

So anyway, we were wondering where all this mail was getting to, and this morning all became clear. Christian is always up before the rest of us, as to become the world's premier Zeuhl jazz-rock drummer requires 500 press-ups and a spell on the asymmetric bars before breakfast. But on Saturday I looked out of the window, and Christian was at the gate to the castle talking to the postman.

Postman: Here, mate, I've got 5 packages here for you, can you sign for them?
Christian: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk.
Postman: Huh?
Christian: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk.
Postman: look, pal, I come here every bloody morning, try and give you these parcels, and all you can say to me is "Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk."
Christian: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk.
Postman: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk?
Christian: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk.
Postman: Dët nünd - look, you've got me at it now.
Christian: Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk.
Postman: Ah, sod you then. I'll try again tomorrow, hopefully your wife will answer the door. Or that nice Mr Top.
Christian: Släoss!

The thing is, Christian was only trying to be nice, as "Dët nünd ëk da ëhrdzort fuh osk" simply means "Can I go for a ride in your big red van?" But not many postmen can speak Kobaian. O, for an end to these misunderstandings...

it's not meant to be funny

2003-11-07T19:45:21Z

Hhai!

A good joke, there, I thought. You see, Hhai (one of our songs from the mid 70s) sounds a bit like Hi!

Geddit?

Back in the 70s, I, Janik Top, used to play bass in Magma. I wrote the 18 minute masterpiece "De Futura". Although I'm very good at jokes (see above for convincing proof), this piece of music certainly was NOT a joke. Oh no. It was very serious. It was basically about the people of Ork finding their true destiny, and zombies and space and all kinds of stuff like that. A tip for any musicians: If you want to musically depict a zombie, a distorted bass guitar is ideal. Always remember: flute = pixies, distorted bass = zombies. Never get them mixed up, or you can ruin many a children's party. And I should know.

Anyway, Christian always insisted that we should remain stony faced and unamused at all times. Once we were in the middle of rehearsing "Wurdah Itah", and it all got a bit jolly; Stella did a little dance and Didier the violinist smiled at her. Christian stopped the song. "If you think that we're toiling away in this ludicrous band for a laugh, for kicks, to 'have a gas'", he boomed, "You're wrong." Unfortunately during the ensuing silence Klaus Blasquiz farted. It was great. We fell about. Christian didn't. We all had to stay behind after rehearsal and write out 2,000 times "Mekanik Zain Balötsai, Zeuhl Wortz Söwëlöi" (rough translation: I must not fart during the 2nd movement of the Theusz Hamtaahk trilogy.)

space travel

2003-10-27T10:49:01Z

Hi. Stella here.

A difficult weekend here at the Magma castle. Christian has been sick of Planet Earth since about 1969, and has had this extended project of building some kind of rocket to take all the Magma members to somewhere a bit less stressful. Our ex-bassist Jannik Top always used to try and point out that even if Christian managed to contruct a craft that would break through the pull of Earth's gravity (highly unlikely, in my opinion) there would be no guarantee that we'd find a planet with sufficient oxygen / water to be able to support a French prog rock band. Also, Christian is insisting on keeping the belongings we take with us to an absolute minimum, and Jannik was rather concerned about the availability of his favoured Gallen Kruger bass amp in the outer reaches of the galaxy.

Anyway, I was woken at about 8am yesterday by an almighty banging and crashing from a barn next to the castle, and I knew that Christian was moving into the latest phase of rocket contruction. I peered out of the window and saw him with arms outstretched, standing before an enormous silo to which he had nailed a Magma crest:

And singing at the top of his voice: "Hhai! Hhai! Hhai! Mekanik Zain! Slaoss!" (rough translation: for chrissakes, why won't this bloody thing start?) Now, I love Christian dearly, but sometimes he gets a little carried away. I coaxed him indoors with the promise of a glass of Bordeaux and a little John Coltrane on the stereo, and in an hour or so he had calmed down a little. "Do you ever think we'll reach the planet Kobaia?" asked Christian. "Well, honey, you know, it's possible..." I replied, diplomatically. Christian turned back to his maps and charts outlining his vision of a Kobaian utopian society. I went into the kitchen and flicked through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. "Are you getting the most out of your relationship?", was one of the headlines. I think that sometimes I get more than I bargained for.

Üdü Wüdü

2003-10-24T16:17:24Z

There has been a slight hiatus in our ability to communicate with you all, as our one of our ex-bass players, probably bloody Paganotti, has been remotely wielding some potent modem magic on our computer. He was probably trying to get us back for that time we laughed at his idea of doing a track called "Heileüza Szlain", which was as pathetic an attempt at speaking Kobaian as we've ever come across. It's like Donna Summer suggesting to her producer that they they try a number called "I Lov Mend Yore You Broken HHaert" or something.

Christian has been urging us to spend more time wearing capes, and to that end he ordered 8 wipe-clean garments which arrived in the post this morning. Apparently they are supposed to help us achieve the supreme knowledge of prophet Nebehr Gudahtt. Not sure about that, but they're brilliant as bibs. We had leek and potato soup for lunch and none, repeat NONE of it got spilled on our space-age jumpsuits that we were wearing underneath.

Tonight we're going down to our local bar to attempt to ruin a kareoke night by shrieking in high pitched voices and shaking various items of hand percussion. Always good fun.

shopping

2003-10-23T10:17:39Z

hi. I'm Christian. The guy at the front. How are you?

Yesterday Stella and I went shopping. Stella fancied a new handbag, so we went to Selfridges where they have concessions on the big names. Stella likes the finer things in life. When we signed to A&M in 1974 for the album "Mekanik Destruktiw Kommandoh" she made me buy her a castle. She already had two. A very demanding woman.

Anyway, while Stella browsed the Louis Vuitton stuff, I popped down to the electronics department. I love gadgets, me. Anyway, as I was walking past the washing machines, an ancient Egyptian tomb opened up next to a Bosch Classixx 1000, and immediately the dust of thousands of years seeped into my skin, giving me magical immortality. A shop assistant asked me if I was OK, but all I could hear was the songs of 10,000 angels. Weird, I thought. Then I realised, it was only another bloody vision of the life of Emehnteht-Re. Meanwhile, the God of Creation - Ptah - was floating in space, asleep in the universe, so I had to wait for him to reawaken before I could emerge from my magical state and successfully meet up with Stella in habadashery, as we had arranged.

This kind of thing keeps happening to me.

When we got home we watched a video of us in 1977. Christ we were scary.

1975

2003-10-21T18:57:18Z

1975. A good year.

Hi. I'm Klaus Blasquiz. That's me, on the right, with a beard. I used to be the singer. But there were bloody years of endless rehearsals, of Christian (second from left) picking me up on the pronounciation of "welëhndaï". I could never remember how those ludicrous songs went. I preferred a little light listening, Mary Hopkin, Gilbert O'Sullivan.

Those enormous metal badges used to piss me off. They were forged from pig-iron and by the end of a 3 hour gig, you'd have curvature of the spine. Again, it was all right for Christian; he was drumming and could at least bloody sit down.

On the far left, that's Stella Vander. She was married to Christian. I fancied her. She didn't like me much.

I'm not in Magma any more.

sëwëloï

2003-10-21T18:40:00Z

It has come to our attention that certain of our Zeuhl Cadets have been brought to the brink of confusion by a certain lyric, to be found in the Theusz Hamtaahk trilogy. There is the repeated utterance during the first movement of "Wurdah Itah": "Sëwëloï, sëwëloï do balötsaï".

We are not, repeat not, singing "Saveloy". Granted, there are certain similarities between the English word saveloy (a kind of sausage) and the Kobaian word "sëwëloï" - meaning, of course, "silence".

To those of you who see the music of Magma as an excuse to giggle, lark about, or make demeaning and insulting comments about our towering cathedrals of sound and meaningful lyrics about space travel, we say to you, SAUSAGE! Sorry, SILENCE!

What a day!

2003-10-21T13:14:18Z

We thought it would be appropriate to start keeping a record of our comings and goings. Ever since the release of our blistering 1974 Zeuhl masterpiece "Kohntarkosz" we've had trouble remembering exactly who is who, who is supposed to be doing what, whse turn it is to put out the cat and iron the velvet capes, and so on. This should make it a lot easier.

This morning was spent reading the newspapers and repeatedly chanting "Zäin! Zäin! Zäin! Zäin! Zäin! Zäin! Ewëhn dëh Slakëhnzaïn!" Since our leader, Christian Vander, invented the Kobaian language back in 1968, we've been asking him to expand the vocabulary a little, as the chants are becoming somewhat repetitive. For instance, we have over 60 words for "the angel of light" but not one for "teacake" or "sofabed", and any reference to them has to be accompanied by vigorous miming to get across the meaning successfully.

Later on we're all going to the park, where we're meeting our ex-bassist Jannik Top and playing with his frisbee.

Later I'll introduce you to us all properly, get to know the gang.