Another talented nutball, and lord knows we need as many of them as we can get – Felix Kubin crossed with Boom Pam, bundled up into a horse cart driven by Captain Spaulding, stopping to pick up a brace of polka maestroes leaving a luau with sundry cast members of beloved American sitcoms from the sixties, who haven´t aged a bit.
Riding a choppy wave of psychobilly surf guitar on “The Fox” out toward the horizon, not toward the shore, Candie Hank (Patric Catani), a veteran outsider well embedded in the various Berlin “scenes”, carves a cowabunga onto the face of every wave he climbs, fishing up all manner of pop cultural flotsam and repurposing it with the genius of the Professor on Gilligan´s Island. There is also darker jetsam – Demons are challenged by a West Indian exorcist on “What is Your Name” and inner demons seem prowling beneath the secret agent man lick of “Every Night”.
“Solaris and Shadowism” and “Babyshka Demona” reveal a dab hand at integrating electronic and real-string twang, crossbreeding a Victrola with a Space Invaders game and gassy tuba with starlit synthesizer. Together with singer Yuko Matsuyama, a “Swimming Rabbit” is Carmen Miranda´d before little lurching Frankensteins monster mash on the cobwebby dancefloor to “Magnetic Forcefield”. “Transylvanian Voodoo” criss-crosses the Carpathians until you can´t tell Bucharest from Brazzaville. “Elevator Life” makes a silly symphony of the ride up to an office module landscape in fresh Monday morning clothes, careful not to spill a drop of coffee. Finally, a horse opera, a hipster gunslinger dismounting to confront his demons off in the distance, alone under the hot desert sun.
In his appreciation, colleague Guido Móbius can´t quite put his finger on Candie Hank´s candiness, but emphasizes Catani´s genius for play and flow of cunning, hilarious concision. A serious musician not afraid to be an entertainer.