The most unusual and last true genius left is how Anton Barbeau has been described. I consider him as if Robyn Hitchcock and Nina Hagen had a child raised on Jacques Brel and Kurt Weill and fed acid until all our minds exploded. That doesn’t even begin to describe the true genius of Barbeau. He makes this all seem natural and free flowing. Unless you hear and see him, you really can’t understand the wonder of his music. As his press describes him:
Hailing from Sacramento and currently residing in Berlin, Barbeau is a prolific artist, whose music is steeped in psych-rock and underground club-tronica. His work blends an unerring ear for melody with a zany eye for poetry. Best known for making “pre-apocalyptic psychedelic
pop”, for this particular album, we can also refer to European circus cabaret and cryptoconfessional piano ballads with hints of old school new wave and nu-skool nonsense.
Just read these wonderful lyrics:
I asked for a kiss You stuck out your tongue And you tickled my breast And I wondered… could this be love? Berliner Grotesque Yes, I know I’m a pest A mosquito, eine Fliege, a flea But I love you, I’m bleeding you, see For love Love is a flavor Love is an ice cream cone Berliner Grotesque Put my faith to the test Not in church but in nature’s cathedral Come up trumps, I’ll be wearing your halo Berliner Grotesque Please forgive me, I’ve been drinking you know how I am I use words that I don’t understand Like “love” Love is a flower Love is an unpaid bill Love by the hour A lifetime of bitter pills Berliner Grotesque You’re my third favorite font Behind Caslon Antique and Big John I don’t love you, why can’t you be gone? Berliner Grotesque Please forgive me I’ve been drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking Forgive me, I’m begging you please for love Love is a playground Love is an unpaved road An endless adventure Love is an uncracked code Berliner Grotesque I have come to conclude A conclusion is what we must come to At this terminus all trains must stop For love For love For love For love