Peter Von Poehl

Songs are like public transportation for all. They take us places. But some fall out of boundssuddenly run off the rails that we have built for them, heading for an unexpected adventure. This is what happened with Going to where the tea trees are, a modest 45 (yes, a 45) recorded by an almost unknown Swede, Peter von Poehl. A A cosy song which sounds like it was recorded in an igloo, it began to get play on French radio last year. Sudden developments followed; listeners bombarding the radio switchboard for information; an influential Los Angeles producer being the next to succumb; then sales flowing through Peter's website. Word of mouth and blog to blog, a persistent and affectionate rumour about the single grew into a modern-day legend.

Today, now that this famous song has given its name to and given rise to Peter von Poehl's first album; now that its infectious charm is about to increase the toll of victims tenfold; now, then, it's time to know more about Peter, a man whom certain people in the French music scene may have had occasion to cross paths with over the past few years, in dark venue corners or in the background of certain photographs. His golden hair and wide, youthful smile haven't failed to catch certain eyes, either, especially female ones.

Thirty-three year-old Peter, Swedish by his mother and German by his father, arrived in France in 1998. A musician in search of adventure, he quickly hooked up with Bertrand Burgalat, who hired him to play guitar in a determinedly left- of- centre boy band which he Burgalat was putting together to serve the various needs of his Tricatel label. Booked on concert tours and studio album recordings for Michel Houellebecq, Alain Chamfort and Burgalat himself, Peter took advantage ofturned the diversity eclecticism of these projects as into an intense apprenticeship in all areas of music, from song writing to studio recording and live performance. When the group's backing band decided to take a stance and become a real group called AS Dragon, Peter chose libertyfreedom instead, as deciding that his personal and very delicate approach didn't dissolve well within the chemistry of a rock group. Encouraged by Burgalat, he composed and wrote, giving himself time to mature and to let his style settle, making serious work friendships along the way thanks in no small part to his happy nature. These friendships included a partnership with Doriand, co-writing and co-producing his third album. They later resurfaced together on Lio’s graceful return, Dites au prince charmant. Residing Resident since 2004 mostly in Berlin, for the most part in Berlin since 2004 Peter also acted as producer for German musician Florian Horwath while putting up the finishing touches to the fragile and noble material that now makes up his first album.

At first, this record was supposed to be called Mummenschanz, after an eponymous 1960s Swedish theatre company, which Peter first saw written in old German on a t-shirt his sister gave him. Mummenschanz can mean anything from "masquerade" to "travelling musical buffoon," which shows that Peter can laugh at himself. (and to which the meanings may vary depending on how it’s used – going from « masquerade » to “travelling musical buffoon”) and onHe is indeed a musician, and he has travelled a lot since childhood, but he is to be taken quite seriously, as. The the buffoon is just a facadefaçade. Inside, he's an alchemist.

Recorded partially in the Swedish countryside (in the AGM studio of co-producer, Christoffer Lundquist in Vallarum) and in Peter’s Berlin apartment, Going to where… shows no signs of the shiny shell or overblown workings of ordinary pop productions. Instead, the music took advantage of the basic surroundings it was recorded in to emerge as a lively, vibrant recording, lacking artifice but loaded with inspiration. As we know all too well from Syd Barrett and the best Beck recordings, the ultra-sensitive never profit most from too much good fortune, giving their best in surroundings of discomfort.

So let’s keep fans of loud sounds and high tuning at a distance, because Peter von Poehl’s first album isn't loud-mouthed. Not that its high ambition in composing and arranging isn't unmistakeable. Between folk ballads and pocket symphonies basking in boreal luminosity, a slow pulse or a wistful heart, the 12 songs (and a hilarious appendix) form an album throbbing with so many shapes and colours, several listenings are recommended to grasp its full effect. Asked about his inspiration, Peter names Scandinavian Christmas carols, which doesn’t get us very far, but intensifies the element of surprise that this indefinable, unclassable album serves up. Surprising, yet thanks to Peter's milky voice, quickly familiar. Unashamedly contemplative on Going to where the tea trees are; playful and dancing on Global conspiracy; shaken on the magnificent Story of the impossible; meditative on Tooth fairy and – his backing chorus emerged from the wings – cheerful on Broken skeleton key, Peter gives us as many faces as musical facets, without ever giving the impression of being stretched too thin, too widely. There's a reason for this, because behind the fragmented prism of these first offerings, there's a vague unity to all the songs, that is departure, wandering, strolling, belonging. Threaded through everything is that troubling notion of being a foreigner in your country and feeling adrift in your own home, as if you could be anywhere. But this modern troubadour, new wave folk singer, Mummenschanz of ingenious and moving songs isn't going anywhere. Peter von Poehl will be with us for a long while to come.