From the portion of the book dealing with the classic album Moondawn:

My review of Moondawn

(followed by part of my new interview with Harald Grosskopf covering Moondawn and a few other
things): Moondawn is one of the all-time Klaus Schulze classics.

I remember at the time of Moondawn and sometime after, struggling with the presence of drums in
it. This was probably because I really enjoyed Klaus’ all synth style as I had grown accustomed to
it. And also the fact that the ethereal style established on both sides of Moondawn was seductive,
yet meditative, a spacy quality that seemed like it could go on for the whole album and never get
boring.

Of course, in later albums and over a period of time, drums and percussion would become much
more commonplace in KS’ music and sound very, very good at times. So, after 31 years since the
release of Moondawn, I have a different context in which to hear it. And the music is still fresh and
intriguing, so I can bring that “beginner’s mind” to my perception of it.

The initial sparkling chime-like sounds are very, very clear on this edition, followed, of course, by
The Lord’s Prayer in Arabic. This was mysterious in 1976 when I heard it and added to the allure of
the album. It still does. The beginning strains of synthesizer pads are heavenly sounding and very
long and drawn out before chord changes are made. Bells chime in the background as well as the
more diffuse sparking, twinkling sound that started the song. As I listen to it, I’m sometimes taken
back to 1976. The feeling I felt then was that it seemed with these new sounds in “Floating” that
Klaus was taking us on a tour of something new, intriguing and delightful.

Drumming and a hypnotic sequencer pattern take over at around 8:00 and sound great. Klaus
uses only top notch sound elements in Moondawn. A twittering sound floats through but it’s unlike
any of the other twittering sounds used in previous KS music. The warm, intoxicating long synth
pads rejoin, and I experience musical bliss, spellbound by the layers of wonderful sound and absorbed
in the overall composition. A minor key synth enters in the background to add even more to
the aural pleasure. The sequencer moves through an enchanting chord shift.

In listening to “Floating,” it’s obvious what drew me to Klaus Schulze’s music originally. There is
an undeniable feeling, from listening to Moondawn, that this is the work of a musical genius. There
simply was nothing else to compare this to in 1976. Every album Klaus released was a tour de force
through previously unimaginable sonic territory.

To my ears, as “Floating” continues, the sound quality on the re-issue is superb. I know that no
remastering was done, but somehow this just sounds clearer to me. I rate the recording as excellent
(only one or two stray clicks), especially for 31-year-old-tapes.

The music builds to a crescendo with drumming and cymbals adding to its drive. By the 21:00
mark, the music has become like a runaway train, intensified greatly from its earlier pace. At this
point I suppose you could almost get up and dance! The piece still has the sequenced characteristic
and Harald’s drumming fits in well, as do the Moog synth lead sounds, which are actually in
the background.

“Mindphaser,” the second side on the original LP, starts out, of course, with the sound of waves.
To this day, this sounds incredibly realistic for a synthesizer. The opening pads layered on top of
the ocean waves are sublime. A thundering is heard in the background. A very intoxicating mood
is being created by this opening. Occasional chord changes and three layers of synths are present,
one a deeper droning pad, another of a higher pitch, with a bit thinner sound playing the lead but
still drifting and changing.

As more and more layers are introduced, I’m almost at a loss for words…. awestruck by the grandeur
of this music. As swells of warm, luscious synth pads arise, I close my eyes and experience
myself close to getting chills and then feel strong emotion and tears welling up – this music is moving
me.

The buildup towards the stark entrance of Harald’s drums has begun.

A sudden crash accompanies the entrance of the drums, which sound quite clear. From here on,
the music takes on a completely different feel. Harald’s drums are still complemented by the lead
synth that was present before and then replaced by a lead with a lower octave with both playing
expressively together. Gone is any hint of the peacefulness of the opening 13 or so minutes.

From this point, “Mindphaser” is basically Harald laying down the beat and Klaus soloing intensely
around that beat with a variety of synth sounds and twitters. The finish slows down for maybe 45
seconds.

The bonus track is “Floating Sequence.” It starts out somewhat like “Floating,” but the sequencer is
present sooner and with a weaker pulse. The overall recording seems to be at a lower volume level
than the two tracks from the original Moondawn. In time, “Floating Sequence” builds in intensity.
“Floating Sequence” seems very similar to “Floating” but with enough variations to make it interesting.

It settles in to sequenced synth and drums, creating a really nice, hypnotic effect. The pace becomes
just as frantic as the last part of “Mindphaser,” but in my opinion, everything holds together better;
drums, sequencer and lead synth twitters all move forward cohesively in harmony.

“Floating Sequence” fits in so well with the rest of the material that it actually adds to what is already
a classic album.

Moondawn is a potentially very moving album (depending on one’s mood and level of concentration)
and a brilliant masterpiece from Klaus Schulze and Harald Grosskopf. I still struggle a little with
the last part of “Mindphaser,” but I can see how it is a contrast to the earlier part of the song and
the culmination of a musical idea.

Bottom line on Moondawn: a brilliant masterpiece of its age, full of musical creativity and heavenly
sounds. An album that holds up as well or even better than when it was released 31 years ago.

Harald Grosskopf Interview with Greg Allen, May 2007 (mostly relating to Moondawn):

GA: When did you first start drumming? At what age?

HG: 1965, aged 15.

GA: Did you take drum lessons? If so, how many years did you take lessons?

HG: I had a few lessons by one of the drummers that later took my place in my rock band Wallenstein,
after I had quit in 1974. That was before I was looking to join in with Klaus Schulze and
later Ashra. I found those drum lessons quite boring and lost respect completely, when I suggested
to that teaching dude to improvise afterwards. He, later became a drumming teacher at the local
music school, but was not able to put out real music, by switching the brain off for a while. After
that I never tried again.

GA: Was your start with drumming due to your parents encouraging or more something you wanted
to do (your idea totally)?

HG: My parents weren’t too keen about me, knocking on everything, with everything I could reach,
aged 11 years. On the other hand, they were quite tolerant and did not do anything to bring me
away from my idea of becoming a musician. Yes, it was my own decision. It all began when I bought
this small tape machine by Phillips, looking like a small ghetto blaster. We used to copy Beatles
LP’s by recording it with the onboard microphone.

During those numerous “recording sessions”, I accompanied the backbeat by knocking on the
table. That could be heard on the tape. In summertime we use to take my Phillips recorder into the
local public swimming pool to listen to the music. One time a dude, the bass player of a local band,
asked who did that percussive knocking on the recording. I expected a critical statement and did
not answer. But the guy said that he liked it. The one who did it should become a drummer. This
statement of more than 40 years ago, made me become a drummer until today.

GA: Where did you live in the 1970s during your time with Ashra, Wallenstein and Klaus Schulze?

HG: I was born in a little town named Sarstedt, a few miles southwards of Hannover in central
Germany, not too far from where Klaus is living since the mid seventies. There was that US singer
Peter Sarstedt, who had a world hit in the sixties. Anyway, I went to kindergarten and school there
with Rudolf Schenker of the Scorpions. He was born in Sarstedt Too. I joined the Scorpions for
a few weeks in 1966. In 1970 one member of a band called Blitzkrieg cast me and took me to a
town named Moenchengladbach, 30 miles north of Cologne in western Germany. Blitzkrieg later
changed its name into Wallenstein.

GA: Would this be the correct chronology: 1-Wallenstein 2-Ashra 3-Klaus Schulze? Did you play
with Ashra before working with Klaus from 1976-1980 and then after that time as well?

HG: Yes, that’s the chronological line up. I played on an Ashra record titled: Ash Ra Tempel starring
Rosi. That was Manuel’s former girl friend. We just had some e-mails across the ocean. Since 1981
she is living in New York. That is more than half of her life now. Never again, with Klaus after 1980.
Ashra, with that line up, had a long break until 1997. We were invited to tour Japan. I brought my
new music colleague Steve Baltes into the band. He “refreshed” the Ashra sound with technoid
sounding parts. He sampled old Ashra material and made loops out of the stuff. We 3 improvised
on top of it. It sounded like Ashra but much more up to date. After the Japan tour we issued two
live albums quite well and had a few more gigs. The last one was in 2002

GA: When did you first meet Klaus Schulze? What year and under what circumstances?

HG: That must have been around 1971/72. Wallenstein recorded an album. When we had arrived
Klaus, Manuel, Hartmut (Enke) just had finished their last album before Klaus left the group to
start his solo career. I liked the uncomplicated, friendly characters.

I had problems with Klaus’ first record. I was more into melodic things and in the meantime more
a rock musician. Later, during some of those famous Cosmic Courier Sessions, Klaus just had
bought a big Moog from Popol Vuh, my refusal sight about his music changed and got quite enthusiastic
when I, back home again, heard Blackdance the first time. I was very impressed by the
melodic sequences and strong rhythms. It grooved. My band Wallenstein didn’t.

About the same time I got hold of Manuel’s LP, Invention for Electric Guitars. Completely different
but very catchy. I could not stay any longer with Wallenstein after that experience, sat down and
wrote two letters. Both were answered. Manuel visited me personally. K.D.M. (Klaus Dieter Mueller)
invited me to see Klaus in Hambühren, the place where they both just had moved after leaving
Berlin

GA: Were you and Klaus more casual acquaintances before 1976 and Moondawn or friends even
before Moondawn?

HG: Until Moondawn I had only a few casual meetings with Klaus. I really liked him. He was and
I guess still is, a very earth bound character, that never left out any party. In those days, a great
womanizer. He always was able to create an atmosphere of trust and fun. The mixture I deadly
needed, because I was so frustrated with the music I was involved with, in the meantime.

GA: How did your partnership for the work on Moondawn form? Did you approach Klaus or did he
call you about working and/or recording together? Could you describe how it happened that you
decided to collaborate?

HG: It was a quite curious situation that lead to our cooperation. When I visited Klaus & Klaus
at their new home near Hannover with my old metallic green VW Beetle, I had to wait half a day,
because Klaus used to sleep until 3 or 4 pm most of the time, because he worked on music during
night times. A lot of Berliners did. Berlin was special. No time limits for pubs and clubs. People
used to live during nights. When I lived in Berlin I did that too. Anyway, Klaus had a little studio in
his cellar where he kept his big Moog. I told him that I liked Blackdance very much because of its
drive. He switched the Moog on and started the sequencer. I never had heard that synonym before
in my life and later had to explain for years to other musicians what a sequencer was.

From the first moment on I heard the sequencer doing its job I was thrilled by the groove that
“dead” machine produced. Better than anything I had experienced with real musicians. Something
forced me to accompany that powerful music and I looked around for something to drum on. The
only thing I could get hold of was a plastic cascet. Klaus turned around, he was sitting facing his
back towards me, and smiled, when he heard my drumming. After the “session” ended he said,
“We must do the next album together!” It took a few months before I heard from him again. I did
not have a telephone in 1973/74. He telegrammed: Be on XXXX in Frankfurt at Panne Paulsen
Studio.

GA: The recording was done in Frankfurt. What was the reason for recording in Frankfurt? Where
did you both live at the time?

HG: I lived in Moenchengladbach, 60 miles north of Cologne in the west of Germany. Klaus in Hambühren,
15 miles north of Hannover, which is in the middle of Germany, 200 miles away from each
other. For Americans, this is maybe nothing. Here quite a distance.

When I arrived at the studio, my first impression was: What a tiny little studio thing! My expectations
were disappointed. The studios in Cologne I had worked in before were much, much bigger.
Eberhard Panne, one of the owners, a very friendly man with a straight image, told me that Klaus
will not be here today, he will arrive tomorrow. Disaster, I thought.

Later I felt very comfortable in that place. Eberhard Panne was a very professional sound engineer,
and his partner, Mr. Paulsen, an electronic engineer and great technician, had built most of the
equipment, from speaker cabinets, mixing console to the recording machine, himself. The building
was a former cinema. The big audience screen room was used by a local carnival club and a restaurant.
Klaus used the screen room for recording the orchestra parts on X.

GA: Could you describe for me how Moondawn took shape? Did Klaus have a pretty good idea of
what he wanted it to sound like? Was it composed already when you got together or did it come out
of you and Klaus maybe jamming and experimenting?

HG: I was used to rehearsing music for a month before recording. Klaus’ way of working was totally
different. His way of producing was dependent, and driven by, emotions and improvisation. Like
me, he could not read, nor write music in these days. Until late afternoon nothing happened. He
slept until 3 PM. I was bored half the day and read books. Then “breakfast”. Klaus was very tall
and skinny these days, because he did not eat well. From my point of view it took ages before the
big Moog was able to put out a note. The “thing” was very sensitive in keeping its tuning.

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