Robert Stadlober: Stadlober: “Tucholsky helped me get rid of the Goebbels in me”

What connects you personally with Tucholsky’s work?

I grew up in Berlin, and like so many Berlin families, mine also had a Tucholsky volume. Parts of my family come from the GDR, where Tucholsky had a different status than in the Federal Republic of Germany. For a long time I filed him under “Berlin Folklore” until, as part of my political socialization in the 1990s, I came across his sharper lyrics and saw the progressive and enlightened social democrat in him for the first time.

Many of Tucholsky’s lyrics that you sing seem downright anachronistic today – for example when they talk about Bolsheviks, Spartacists, the German Revolution or the Kaiser. To what extent do the poems still seem relevant to you today?

Individual words may seem anachronistic, but not the meaning behind them. For example, when we talk about the fight between the Bolsheviks and the Spartacists, one can also think of the BSW’s split from the left or other twisted political constellations in which people represent irrefutable, unchangeable positions. This is just as true today as it was back then. And when we talk about the German Emperor: Well, he no longer exists. But what still exists today are monopolies that influence our lives in such a way that you feel like you have no democratic influence. I was therefore rather surprised at how appropriate the basic tenor of many texts is even today.

Were there parts of Tucholsky’s work that you consciously avoided – perhaps because they didn’t seem to have aged well?

Not really. There are individual phases in his life in which he briefly lost his way. But at the same time that’s what fascinates me about him: that he tried things out, but also always caught up and corrected himself. For me, that’s part of a political life: that you have to constantly fight out positions not only with others, but also with yourself. I partly tried to depict these ambivalences in the book (meaning a collection of Tucholsky’s poems recently published by Stadlober under the same title; author’s note). But on the record that would have gone beyond the scope.

What was the biggest surprise you encountered when dealing with Tucholsky’s texts?

I think that because of his ideological appropriation in the GDR, I perceived him to be more proletarian for a long time than he appears to me today. Instead, for me, a great longing for a middle-class life shines through in his texts. I found that exciting: Because he doesn’t even try to feign an origin that he doesn’t actually have, nor does he get caught up in a kind of pseudo-Maoist self-criticism, but instead is completely open about his longings and says: I would like to Nice places to eat, but that doesn’t mean other people should starve. I want everyone to be able to afford these restaurants. This is an idea of ​​socialism that is very close to mine.

You last published an album two years ago with settings of poems by Stefan Heym. What attracts you to new versions of old works, which are rather unusual in a pop culture context?

My impression is that lyrics in pop and rock music often go in circles. I have now reached middle age and am therefore increasingly aware of my own strengths. This includes, I believe, textual exegesis. And I’m good at coming up with melodies. Writing texts or poetry, however, is not necessarily one of my strengths.

Heym and Tucholsky, despite some differences, were united by their clear left-wing political stance. You, too, have not held back with your political stance in the past. How important is politics to you in your art?

It is impossible to make art apolitically. That may be a truism, but it’s true. At the same time, as I continue to learn, I notice that the simple slogan is becoming more and more foreign to me. I don’t think I can make a direct difference with the things I do. But I can help ensure that questions are asked differently. I find that fun. At the same time, however, I find that cultural workers who carry their own political responsibility as if it were something sacred are often exaggerating.

At the same time, you can currently be seen on the big screen in the film “Fuhrer and Seducer” in the role of Joseph Goebbels – a man who repeatedly had to expose himself to Tucholsky’s biting ridicule, such as in the poem “Joebbels”. Was it a coincidence that you studied these two influential figures in German history of the 1920s and 1930s at almost the same time?

No. After we shot the film, the film’s director, Joachim A. Lang, asked me if I would like to do a Tucholsky evening as part of the “Festival of the Spoken Word” in Stuttgart, which he helped organize. Only then did the idea of ​​making this album arise in me. The more intensive examination of his texts, which have a melancholic but often hopeful atmosphere, also helped me to get rid of that Goebbels in me.

Satire – one of Tucholsky’s favorite art forms – has long been a powerful weapon of the left. However, it is currently particularly popular on the political right.

Yes, it also seems to me that the desire for practical jokes has been lost. I observe an incredibly conservative seriousness in the political debate. I’m closer to the spontaneous approaches of the 1970s, when it was all about turning the tables on those at the top. It’s just that nobody wants to do it anymore today. The right seems to have discovered this loophole. They just laugh when they make fun of the climate stickers, or put a large steak on the grill and then burn diesel on a joyride. For example, I like many of the Center for Political Beauty’s approaches. But then people quickly point out and say that this or that is now in bad taste. But I think: In a world that is becoming increasingly satirical, satire is an effective means of getting at the right. For example, I think it’s great to put a monument to certain politicians in the garden. I much prefer this as a political approach to, for example, constantly lecturing allies about their choice of words. I think a lot of people rightly don’t feel like it.

Are there currently any writers who you see in Tucholsky’s tradition?

In Austria we have Stefanie Sargnagel, whose texts often look as profane as Tucholsky’s at first glance, but at the same time come across as incredibly class struggle. She also often deals with realities of life that are not usually talked about, but without constantly praising herself. In Germany I still see Saša Stanišić, who has a similar attitude towards the world.

You became known as an actor. What role has music played in your life?

»Music was my first love, and it will be my last«. I still buy a lot of records and read all the music magazines available. I make music in some form every day. It is a very strange development that began in the second half of the 20th century: music and drama were increasingly viewed separately from one another. Nowadays it is sometimes considered disreputable for an actor to also make music, or vice versa – especially in Germany. But that may also be because the music by German actors was often not particularly great. Although you also forget that her acting performances were usually no better (laughs).

Assuming you could still make a good living from music today, do you think you would have appeared more often as a musician in favor of acting?

In any case! That’s the main reason why making music no longer has such a high priority in my life: because it can’t be financed. And touring with a four or five-piece band is a very expensive hobby in the long run.

Robert Stadlober: “Once we are not cruel, we immediately believe that we are good” (act of state)
Robert Stadlober (ed.): “Once we are not cruel, then we immediately believe we are good,” Verbrecher Verlag, 121 pages, hardcover, €20.