Once again we open up 20JFG to the Endless House Foundation and Dramatic Records. If you’re unfamiliar with this occasional series then it begins here, and other episodes can be caught scattered around the rest of the internet. Today we feature an excerpt from their forthcoming book – “Sketches Of The Endless House” – a collection of miscellaneous editorial/episodic prose from the three fateful weeks of Endless House’s existence in 1973.
This particular piece is taken from an Italian journalist named Stefano Paolucci. Stefano was one of the very few ‘establishment’ journalists allowed to make the dauting trip to see Jiri Kantor’s project at first hand, and this particular extract captures a buoyant Rasmus Folk around the time of the aforementioned “Pavel” and, of course, the anthemic “Coupe'”
“…and then it was that I saw Rasmus himself, a vision of pastellised cosmopolitanism. Surrounded by a protective enclave of Kantor’s ‘aesthetic engineers’, the man didn’t so much walk as Viennese W(w)altz through the House’s chrome corridors. Only on one occasion was I able to pierce his studied personal choreography, and then (im)purely by virtue of voyeurism. He had premiered “Coupe'” to delicious applause the evening before, and now I saw him at work on a new study he called “Pavel”. Engrossed, immersed, and flanked by the technical expertise of Klaus Pinter, this was a very different side to Rasmus. Without an exotic European cabriolet in sight, the Austrian was constructing something of an altogether weightier fabric. Pinter and he were discussing Graham Greene together. “I don’t want to be remembered for mere ‘entertainments'”, he quipped, “so let’s shock the Endless House with the weight of this song.”
Watching them work, it was if Folk was assuming a different mask, cutting away, almost violently, at the soft-focus optics of Coupe’. Pinter drove the technical process, applying similar editing processes to those that punctuated “Bewussseinweiterung”, but the ideas were decidely Folk’s.
Playing live drums fed through the squinting filters of an unmarked Soviet synthesizer, Rasmus and Klaus’s industry was to outlast my journalistic vigil. As I got up to leave my vantage point and my story, their final exchanges fluttered into my headspace: “Nearly there, Klaus…You’re a splice away from rocking the world…or at least Walter Schnaffs!”