“Doppelmoppel: Poems by Kurt Schwitters” by Anna Clementi and Thomas Stern is an eccentric, sonic collision of dadaist poetry and experimental sound, shaping Schwitters’ poetic chaos into modern soundscapes. This album is an emotional rollercoaster of absurdity – part homage, part reinvention – where Clementi’s vocal acrobatics and Stern’s textural mastery turn Schwitters’ surreal words into sound-poetry fireworks.
Tracks like “Sie puppt mit Puppen” and “An Anna Blume” blend humor, tension, and nostalgia, drenched in pots, pans, backwards guitars, and snow (yes, snow). If Kurt Schwitters were to hear this, he’d probably tip his avant-garde hat, then ask for more reverb.
Clementi’s voice has an almost operatic reverence for Schwitters, while Stern’s soundscapes evoke the same disorienting chaos you might expect if a Korg MS-20 fell into a blender with a broomstick and space echo. It’s not for everyone, but it doesn’t try to be.
There’s a frenetic charm in the absurd brevity of tracks like “Husten Scherzo” and “Doppelmoppel”, both less than a minute but packed with wild energy. Yet, moments of pure atmosphere, like the haunting “Just in the middle/Autumn (Love Song)”, offer the listener a brief respite from the madness, grounding you in something almost like a lullaby. Almost.
Schwitters’ poems, like “An Anna Blume”, blur the line between nonsense and deep commentary, offering a satirical and emotional critique of modern life. His signature style, Merz – a term he coined to describe his artistic worldview – celebrates the absurd, dissects language, and mocks conventional norms.
In the album, Clementi and Stern take Schwitters’ words and transform them into a chaotic sound universe. Pieces like “Doppelmoppel” or “Lied der Miss ElektrizitÄt” retain the absurd humor of Schwitters’ work, with Clementi using her voice to embody the fragmented, nonsensical style of his poetry. In contrast, compositions like the previously mentioned “Just in the middle/Autumn (Love Song)” turn more introspective, creating sonic space for reflection amidst the absurd.
Schwitters’ use of parody, disjointed syntax, and surreal imagery is reflected through the duo’s sonic arrangements, employing a mix of backward guitars, brooms, and even the sound of snow to create a world as peculiar as the poet’s. His poems often flirt with the nonsensical but possess an undercurrent of biting commentary on the fragmentation of language and meaning, and Stern’s rich sonic textures enhance this through deconstruction and collage techniques.
Clementi’s vocal delivery morphs from pure recital to experimental vocalizations, matching Schwitters’ tonal shifts between playful and critical. Schwitters’ poems like “Sie puppt mit Puppen” poke fun at daily banalities, while “The real disuda of the nightmare” is more existential and abstract, all enhanced by the duo’s ingenious sound manipulations.
The result is a collision between Schwitters’ disruptive poetry and a sonic environment that mimics the poet’s surreal world, balancing between the serious and the nonsensical, creating a soundscape that honors the poet’s spirit of rebellion against linguistic and cultural norms. — Vito Camarretta, Chain D.L.K. (USA)
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.OKPrivacy policy
Re√iew in Chain D.L.K.
https://www.chaindlk.com/reviews/12273
“Doppelmoppel: Poems by Kurt Schwitters” by Anna Clementi and Thomas Stern is an eccentric, sonic collision of dadaist poetry and experimental sound, shaping Schwitters’ poetic chaos into modern soundscapes. This album is an emotional rollercoaster of absurdity – part homage, part reinvention – where Clementi’s vocal acrobatics and Stern’s textural mastery turn Schwitters’ surreal words into sound-poetry fireworks.
Tracks like “Sie puppt mit Puppen” and “An Anna Blume” blend humor, tension, and nostalgia, drenched in pots, pans, backwards guitars, and snow (yes, snow). If Kurt Schwitters were to hear this, he’d probably tip his avant-garde hat, then ask for more reverb.
Clementi’s voice has an almost operatic reverence for Schwitters, while Stern’s soundscapes evoke the same disorienting chaos you might expect if a Korg MS-20 fell into a blender with a broomstick and space echo. It’s not for everyone, but it doesn’t try to be.
There’s a frenetic charm in the absurd brevity of tracks like “Husten Scherzo” and “Doppelmoppel”, both less than a minute but packed with wild energy. Yet, moments of pure atmosphere, like the haunting “Just in the middle/Autumn (Love Song)”, offer the listener a brief respite from the madness, grounding you in something almost like a lullaby. Almost.
Schwitters’ poems, like “An Anna Blume”, blur the line between nonsense and deep commentary, offering a satirical and emotional critique of modern life. His signature style, Merz – a term he coined to describe his artistic worldview – celebrates the absurd, dissects language, and mocks conventional norms.
In the album, Clementi and Stern take Schwitters’ words and transform them into a chaotic sound universe. Pieces like “Doppelmoppel” or “Lied der Miss ElektrizitÄt” retain the absurd humor of Schwitters’ work, with Clementi using her voice to embody the fragmented, nonsensical style of his poetry. In contrast, compositions like the previously mentioned “Just in the middle/Autumn (Love Song)” turn more introspective, creating sonic space for reflection amidst the absurd.
Schwitters’ use of parody, disjointed syntax, and surreal imagery is reflected through the duo’s sonic arrangements, employing a mix of backward guitars, brooms, and even the sound of snow to create a world as peculiar as the poet’s. His poems often flirt with the nonsensical but possess an undercurrent of biting commentary on the fragmentation of language and meaning, and Stern’s rich sonic textures enhance this through deconstruction and collage techniques.
Clementi’s vocal delivery morphs from pure recital to experimental vocalizations, matching Schwitters’ tonal shifts between playful and critical. Schwitters’ poems like “Sie puppt mit Puppen” poke fun at daily banalities, while “The real disuda of the nightmare” is more existential and abstract, all enhanced by the duo’s ingenious sound manipulations.
The result is a collision between Schwitters’ disruptive poetry and a sonic environment that mimics the poet’s surreal world, balancing between the serious and the nonsensical, creating a soundscape that honors the poet’s spirit of rebellion against linguistic and cultural norms.
— Vito Camarretta, Chain D.L.K. (USA)