“We just wanted to be different.”
The night of November 23, 1971 was supposed to be a celebration. Hamburg’s Musikhalle, a prestigious venue that had once hosted the likes of Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Maria Callas, was now the setting for a showcase gig from Polydor’s brightest new hopes. The German label were touting Faust as the band that “could change the face of rock music for the next decade.” What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, as it turned out. Faust’s ambitious plans for a quadrophonic surround sound experience were scuppered by bad luck and faulty technology. “The audience arrived and nothing was working,” recalls singer and bassist Jean-Hervé Péron. “I remember us sitting on stage, trying to play music. Then Rudolf Sosna [guitar/keyboards] started to harangue the audience and get them all worked up. Eventually, the kids came onto the stage and started playing our instruments.”
Band members scurried here and there. Four big colour TVs – broadcasting news bulletins and a German zoology show – did at least give people something to watch on stage. In frustration, drummer Werner ‘Zappi’ Diermaier brought a giant tower of empty cans
