The 49th Leipziger Jazztage invited visitors to all kinds of new adventures. On the opening evening, luck was on the side of our author Sascha Kantser: she met Florian Fischer and Christopher Kunz from Die Unwucht for a chat about musical influences, their relationship with the audience and their understanding of jazz.

Florian Fischer, Christopher Kunz and I are sitting on an old sofa in the backstage room. Soon they will be playing a concert together with another talented improviser, Taiko Saito. Saito hasn't arrived yet, perhaps because she's used to better transport connections in Berlin - but who knows? I'm very fascinated by musicians who don't have to write anything down before they play their music, and now I have the chance to ask the guys a few questions about it. You, dear reader, can imagine sitting at the table opposite, smoking a cigarette (or not) and hopefully listening while we have an inspired chat.

Do you see your music more as modern or as something classical, balready established?

Florian Fischer: For me, it's both at the same time, because there are modern aspects where we are researching something ourselves that perhaps not so many people are doing in this way yet. But at the same time, it is totally rooted in tradition, in different traditions.

Can you give an example of this?

Florian Fischer: We both studied jazz and also deal a lot with jazz history and the tradition of improvised music. The things that we add to this tradition are not all completely new, such as aspects of new music or contemporary composition, which also have their own traditions. That's why, for me, both exist at the same time.

Christopher Kunz: I feel the same way.

Photo: Lukas Diller

Which artists, sounds or events inspire your music?

Christopher Kunz: Actually, so much so that I would say it's not me as a person who makes the music, but the sum of the experiences I've had and the sum of the people who have accompanied me on my path so far. And to break that down would probably go beyond the scope of this article, because it starts with my parents, who have shaped us, then my athletics coach, for example, my big band leader from school and my saxophone teacher at university, Matthias Rosenbauer. With all the people we studied with and with all the musicians we've had the privilege of working with, in other words from our individual experience with all the people we've had contact with and of course also with the people we don't know personally now, but whose works we transcribe or listen to, play, in particular: Black American music, free improvisation, but also Helmut Lachemann, Enno Poppe, new music and also art and literature. Florian, had you read Maria Lassnig's biography?

Florian Fischer: That's right!

Christopher Kunz: We read a few books by Peter Handke and talked about them and derived a few exercises for our duet.

Florian Fischer: We are also inspired by nature because we often played outside. So two of our three albums were recorded in a garden and I would say that this environment also shaped the sound. So somehow trees or gardens as living beings themselves.

How do you usually feel about the audience - do you sometimes think about us, and if so, how do you imagine us?

Christopher Kunz: Well, first of all we try to perceive the room. We do that during the sound check to get a feel for how the room sounds, especially today because we're miked up. So, microphoned, that doesn't happen very often. It's different with an audience in terms of the sound. It will definitely take a few seconds before we start playing. And ideally, I would say, we each try to get a feeling for the audience in those few seconds, on an energetic level. But it's totally open and it's not reflected. So it's also not analyzed, so I would say great audience, young audience or old audience. It's not about categories at all, but perhaps it happens with our eyes closed. We try to be aware of that and to realize that there are people for whom we are allowed to play.

Florian Fischer: There is definitely, I would say, an energy that simply prevails in the room where several people come together to listen to music. And we always try to create a process that we actually experience together. But we don't do this by making lots of announcements or verbally interacting with the audience at the concert, but rather by really trying to feel the whole room and all the people and hoping that they can feel us too. So it's actually always important to me that it still feels like a shared process. If we were playing without an audience today, the three of us could have a good time, but the energy would definitely not be comparable.

Today you play with Taiko Saito. How did you come across her?

Florian Fischer: We got to know each other during our studies, that's when we found each other, we got on well together on a personal and musical level. And when we invite partners, it primarily has to do with aesthetic aspects, that we simply like these people, musically and personally. Both are fundamental conditions for making music together. I got to know Taiko in Berlin, we played together in some projects and I just found them incredibly great and inspiring, both musically and personally. So we always find partners who can enrich us.

Photo: Lukas Diller

If jazz didn't exist, would you still make music? And if so, in what genre or style?

Florian Fischer: It's hard for me to imagine, because jazz is so broadly defined. What is jazz anyway? If jazz didn't exist... There would still be something. Because even before anyone invented the term jazz, people were doing things that are actually very closely related to the way of thinking and the approach to making music.

Christopher Kunz: I think you might have to replace jazz with improvisation at this point. So if jazz didn't exist, then the whole historical background would be missing, i.e. Black American music, where jazz comes from, racist legislation and discrimination, slavery, that would be completely missing. In other words, the self-empowerment that has existed in music would definitely be missing. What would remain would perhaps be Bach, who also improvised. Improvisation also plays a role in classical music, but it is perhaps stronger and freer in jazz. In other words, the question would be whether we would really have come across jazz as improvisation. Of course I would like that - yes, otherwise we wouldn't be making music at all. Or rock, free rock - whatever. 

Florian Fischer: But rock is also inspired by jazz. I believe that improvisation has been around since humans have existed. And even before humans existed, there was probably improvisation. Because animals do it in a way. Then perhaps this short period of time that was called jazz, where people played swing and so on, would be missing.

Tell me Please tell me about your relationship with your instruments: Are they simply tools for you, or do you havedo do you have some kind of emotional attachment to them?

Christopher Kunz: Well, I haven't dreamt of a better instrument yet. I have sometimes dreamt about practicing the instrument. In other words, it's not that the instrument masters me, but that I master the instrument. And then the last few percentages that you could still get out of it because there's a better saxophone don't matter, because the time I invest in it, or the money, I can then invest in practicing. So I'm very satisfied. I'm also very happy with the drums that Florian plays because they always click well. In other words, I'll anticipate your answer and say that Florian is also very happy with his instrument. That certainly comes across to me. 

Florian Fischer: Yes, that's great. I am also very satisfied. I don't know to what extent I can really master the instrument completely, because the instruments themselves are sensitive creatures that react differently to spaces and all sorts of things. And I have to work with the instruments to find something that works in the room. And in that respect, it's sometimes like a relationship with people that you have to work on. I can imagine it: a drummer has a cymbal and really loves it. But there comes a point when you can't get anything more out of this cymbal, which perhaps surprises you. Or you feel a limitation. Then I might really start dreaming of another tank. Then I might have another tank. Then I'll use that. Then I'll come back to the older tank. Maybe someone will say that I have a polyamorous relationship with my instruments...