Oliver’s a keen observer, a witty raconteur, an irritating commentator and his stories hit a nerve or two like others rarely do. «Everybody knows the Summer of ’69 but wasn’t the summer of ’84 much more unique?» is the rhetoric Q he wants you to brainfuck about. He’s bandleader of Die Aeronauten and he singlehandedly may have created the underestimated - at least to many - category called Swiss Punk. He’s also about elektro-rock’n’roll, sweeping symphonic combobulations which he gets from accoustic guitar/samples/piano and soothing elevator music a la Musak or perhaps something like Brian Eno’s Music for Airports. Sexy indie soulpunk dished out with boomeranging memories, revisited and perhaps reconstructed, yes, but he’s never about the familiar, the safe and the overtly stupid. And let it be known, he doesn’t shy away from (ab)using Dixieland Jazz in his stuff, because he thinks it’s silly music.
He’s a producer for Stahlberger and Nadja Zela and others and his new solo effort is «Der beste Freund des Menschen» (man’s best friend) but we’re not sure, does he mean the dog by that? If so, could it be like what the St. Galler Tagblatt, no less! gleefully wrote, that it’s all a sign of a certain soft headedness, like an early onset of dementia maybe? Holy shit?! no way Jose. You can’t get what you already have.
Anyway, what we do expect once again is unadulturated and visionary radicalism, that highflying rambunctious spirit, brilliant wordplays like ZUG riding backwards to GUZ, shockingly honest confessions like «we’ve made our first million not paying the fare», and moreover, we desperately want some of those quick, headbanging two minute songs that didn’t take that much longer to record.
In other words, we wanna be GUZified.