Words by Jessica Gysel
Portrait by Wolfgang Tillmans
I first met Susanne Oberbeck four years ago in New York at the gay and lesbian experimental film festival, MIX NYC, where one of her short movies was being screened. We met at a weird party – 100 people crammed into a space just 35m2 – and all of whom had removed their shoes (because of the parquet floor), resulting in a stinky smell of sweaty feet and a wonderful collection of colourful socks.
We talked for a while and planned to do an interview one day. It took a while. In the meantime, Susanne swapped New York for London (her adopted city since she was 22), and left filmmaking for music. She formed a band called No Bra with a boy called Fanny – later replaced by Dale Cornish – and had an underground hit with Munchausen: a hilarious song about a conversation between two people bragging in a London club.
At the moment, Susanne is performing solo. It’s a bit hard to describe her act, but imagine something like this: a tall, slim, pale – almost statuesque – figure singing in a very fragile voice over a constant droning beat, alternated with melodic piano and guitar pieces. Her tits are naked, occasionally covered by her hip-length reddish hair... while the icing on the cake is a small furry moustache.
I head off to London to meet her. The day of my arrival she is giving a concert in Brixton. However, because she’s performing topless, the owner of the club literally pulls the plug on the proceedings as her act begins; turning the sound off and leaving everyone in total darkness. Then, in his Irish brogue, the owner explains: ‘You can do whatever you want, love, but put your top back on!’ The gig continues after she has put her t-shirt back on. It creates the weirdest situation. The music nerds remain at a safe distance while some girls, in bouffant 60s hairdos, move even closer to the front. Oberbeck is very vulnerable, for sure. Even more so, strangely enough, with her t-shirt back on.
After the gig we go out partying. First, to The Joiners Arms, her favourite ‘gay bear’ bar, followed by a quick visit to TrailerTrash. Then to the quintessentially camp George & Dragon, before returning to The Joiners Arms to end the night. All the time, Susanne drinks copious glasses of white wine.
A little worse for the wear, we meet the next day in her tiny, tiny one-room apartment in Shoreditch, and settle down for a talk.
Jessica: Can you tell me something about your background?
Susanne: I’m from the north of Germany, near a seaside town. It’s sort of in the country.
Why did you move to London?
Since I was about 10, I was always drawn to English culture and the language. So, for me, it seemed only natural to come here: I never even tried to move to Berlin. And although, of course, I had access to things like magazines, where
I lived was really provincial. As a teenager, I was a mod. I was obsessed with it for years. In fact, I used to run this mod club. So for me, it was obvious I was gonna come here. It instantly felt much more comfortable. It was more exciting. I related better to the English culture and humour. In a way, it’s more superficial. With the Germans everything always has to be so deep, haha!
But you ran a mod club?
Well yeah, like a 60s mod-psychedelic club. It was mostly boys and me. People came to it from Berlin and Dusseldorf. We were psychedelic in a provincial sort of way.
How old were you?
20. There was four of us in the beginning but then the other ones just got too fucked and weren’t able to deejay anymore. But that was a very exciting period. I went to play a gig in Southend last weekend – at this club called Junk – and it was kind of the same thing: this seaside town full of really obsessive kids taking speed all weekend. It was really good. Did you take a lot of drugs back then?
No. I smoked hash for a really long time and ate mushrooms but wasn’t really into other drugs. When Ecstasy first came out, I remember people coming up to me and telling me these really stupid things and I felt like I couldn’t deal with it. Conversations like: ‘The music is great here tonight. Do you think they’re going to play the same music tomorrow?’ I don’t mind it now. Maybe it was the people or the situation, not the drugs.
So when did you move to London?
When I was 22. I went to art college and then studied film. Then I worked in film for a bit but I realised that you couldn’t really get anywhere in the industry without money or connections. So, after a year, I decided it was all really naff and realised I was never gonna get to make any movies that way. So, I went back to college and made some short films.
Tell me something about your parents.
You know, my parents are a bit weird. On the one hand, they are very conservative. But on the other hand, they’re quite liberal – in a bizarre kind of way. You can’t really put your finger on it. It’s like... how can I explain it? They are the kind of people who’d say: ‘We don’t care if you’re gay or straight, as long as you don’t have sex.’ But at the same time, they were always working so they were also quite laissez-faire; they didn’t really care what I was up to. My mum’s a teacher and she’s quite idealistic and has her own visions but, essentially, they’ve got this pretty basic, conservative background. And now they seem to be turning into these cartoons, the older they get. My dad’s not really a man and my mum’s not really a woman.
Are they still together?
Yes.
Do you have any siblings?
No.
Maybe that explains something.
In what way?
That they never expected you to be male or female.
I’m just thinking, I was never pointed out as being strange. When I was a kid, people never knew if I was male or female – and I quite liked that.
What kind of hair did you have?
I had a sort of 70s round cut; like most boys had.
It’s funny with the hair. When did you decide to let your hair grow?
I haven’t cut it since I was 24 or something. It’s not that interesting, I think.
No! It is interesting. I have a weird kind of hairphobia. I’ve never met anyone with such long hair.
Honestly, the kind of comments I get. Every gay man is like: ‘Oh, you have beautiful hair!’ I get really sick of it. But I think I’ve just had too many bad haircuts. I also think it would be quite painful to cut it. It’s quite phallic.
Back to the filmmaking. I heard you made a short film with Kate Moennig, ‘Shane’ from The L Word.
Yeah, I did. I was in university and the film I was making was quite an ambitious project so the producer got in a casting director who happened to know Kate. She was just a theatrical actress then and had done maybe only one short film before – but she was great! She walked into the audition like she was James Dean! And it was like she was the character I had written. Though obviously, good actors know how to become the characters.
Are you still in contact with her?
No, no. She was quite reserved – in a butch way. And presumably, she was quite ambitious too.
Did you know that she’s not ‘out’ in Hollywood?
I think she had a boyfriend then. Actors are desperate to act and maybe she thinks if she says she’s a lesbian, she’ll get fewer parts – especially as an actress in America. It’s quite hard to have an opinion because the whole situation is so retarded.
Do you only have sex with women?
No, I have sex with men as well.
Have you had a lot of relationships?
Maybe about six. And not really recently. Maybe two recently.
Do you like one-night stands?
Pretty much. It’s a bit more difficult to explain.
What made you go into this whole singing/performing/having a band kind of thing?
Basically, I’ve been playing music most of my life – since I was 6, in fact. As I was an only child, a lot of expectation was put on me so, as
I got older, I didn’t really think I could be a musician. I always thought I needed to do something that was gonna earn me some money. But then, at some point, I realized that someone like me, who’s basically considered weird by a lot of people, is never gonna make money in any mainstream industry – if I wanted to stick to my ideas, that is. So, I decided I might as well make music where there’s a lot more creative freedom. I made this kind of porn film and then I started a band.
Where do you want to take the music? Do you want to reach a big crowd at some point?
I don’t really think about it in those terms. Of course, everybody who performs wants to do so in front of big audiences. Also, you want people to relate to your songs. And, of course, it’s exciting when you get to play in different places. But at the same, when you write a song, you don’t think about it in terms of ‘I’m gonna do it like this because it’s gonna be more commercial’. Initially my music was dancy. It was almost kind of industrial, with a lot of beats. Now it’s more acoustic.
Why the moustache?
I think it looks good. I started wearing a moustache before I even had a band – just to go out, and usually with very short mini-skirts and high heels. But then I stopped wearing it because it became too much of a joke – or people took it as a joke. When really, all you want is be able to wear a skirt and not get harassed as if you’re a prostitute. But actually, I recall I used to get hit on by a lot of gay men – as well as straight men. It was weird.
Did women hit on you wearing the moustache?
Less so. Mainly straight women, really.
Really? You should make a new version of Munchausen. In fact, you could probably do a lot of different versions.
People say that, but the lyrics are quite specific. I change some of the lines on stage but the way the story progresses, it would be weird to change it.
It’s always such a difficult thing, the moustache. It’s so easy to shock. Almost too easy.
I’m not wearing the moustache to shock. It just seems more appropriate and, like I said, I think it looks good. Also, if you get your tits out, you have to maintain a balance or else it would look like I was trying to do a strip show.
It makes sense, seeing as your tits are not that small. They are really curvy.
I have quite good tits. I think you have to make the most of what you have.
So you’ve never considered getting rid of them?
No! I fucking hated them when I was a teenager but then I got over it. Well it’s a bit more complicated than that. You can’t really resolve it.
So you’ve never bound them?
No.
Do you wear a bra?
No, I never have. Do you wear a bra?
Yes, actually. I have rather big tits and they’d be very saggy if I didn’t wear a bra.
The name No Bra wasn’t meant to be that literal. It was actually inspired by a headline of this tits magazine that I pick up now and again. And it also reminds me of No Wave. Stripped down.
Bra in Swedish means ‘good’.
I know.
Do you have some kind of legacy that you would like to leave to the world? Are you on a mission?
Yeah. But no. I have the things that I create artistically. I don’t know... you can’t really talk about these things.
Do you ever want to be rich?
Not particularly. No! I mean, everybody needs more money – I haven’t been on holiday for over three years. Few people get rich off music, and that’s not why I’m doing it – although I wouldn’t mind getting paid so I could pay other people who are doing stuff. And pay my rent. But no! More money, more problems.
Do you sometimes visit your parents?
No. But they sometimes come here, yeah yeah.
Where do you take them?
To pubs. My mum’s pissed after half-a-glass of wine; my dad’s pissed after two pints.
Easy job. Did they ever see one of your concerts?
I was thinking about taking them to one. The last time they came over, I had a gig at this place called The Barfly which is an indie club. But then I thought my dad might just get a heart attack: it might actually be dangerous, you know.
But do they know about your performances?
They do know but they can’t really place them. They don’t really know what pop music is, haha. Well sort of... but they don’t get it. Actually, my dad is a bit hard to please: he said the first single was ‘amateurish’. But then he did add that it might be some sort of trend.
Did you write the lyrics for Munchausen?
Yeah, I came up with the idea and I think I wrote most of it – but a lot of it was also Dale’s comic genius. And a lot of it was also inspired by things that people in clubs had said to us.
Do you like Kathleen Hanna [Bikini Kill, Le Tigre], seeing as you mention her in the Munchausen text?
I don’t think I ever properly met her, but I think she’s cute. I never really paid attention to this whole riot grrrl thing when it happened, to be honest.
But there’s a lot about it in the text of Munchausen.
Fanny, the other original member of No Bra, who is a bit special – I mean he is a bit Munchausen – once told me he went to Olympia to hang out with riot grrrls. But then, when I asked about the details, it became obvious that he hadn’t even been to America! I think Dale had a bit of a fascination with riot grrrls too.
They have super good songs though, Bikini Kill.
Well, I never took much interest in the riot grrrl movement because I just didn’t like the style of it – it didn’t appeal to me. I felt a bit bullied, actually. I felt like I was expected to be a certain way and, as I never really thought of myself as a girl in that way, I couldn’t see why I should be part of this movemement. I listened to it later, though, and got more into it. I especially like Julie Ruin, Kathleen Hanna’s solo album.
What kind of music do you like?
A lot of acoustic, plus industrial, techno, guitar bands, darker music, Bauhaus, that kind of stuff. I listen to all kinds of music: Adam Green, Cat Power, Scott Walker – his music is pretentious but genius – Syd Barrett, Josef K, Birthday Party, Coil, Nico, Velvet Underground, DAF, Suicide. For me music is about relating emotion. I particularly like music that’s dark; singers with eccentric personalities; and bands that have good lyrics and who write about something in a way that hasn’t been done before.
I wonder if your performance would work in front of a big audience.
Because there is no band?
Maybe.
I have been playing to quite big audiences and I am thinking about getting a guitarist on stage. But it doesn’t really matter because, in a way, what people expect is what makes it work. It’s totally awkward because there isn’t a band – but then, there’s a lot of people who don’t have a band.
It’s very vulnerable to be on your own on stage.
It looks vulnerable or you think it is vulnerable?
I think it’s both.
In a way, that’s the point of it. So often the band takes over and you can’t actually hear what people are singing about.
How do you make the backing tracks?
The music is mostly made on machines and then I edit it on the computer.
What do you think of Le Tigre and Chicks on Speed?
I think they’re great and they both have songs I really like. Though, personally, I don’t think music and politics go together very well. You present yourself as a bit of a cliché and so people can easily target you because of it. It’s the whole lifestyle idea: it has to be obvious what something is, and that includes its sexuality. It’s very American. One of the lesbian bands I really like is Malaria! I think they’re fucking amazing. It’s all about this kind of desire for something that doesn’t exist – but you can’t necessarily put a name to it. They create something that is mysterious; that somehow expresses how you might feel. And this whole thing which is about a weird use of language. There’s that song called How Do You Like My New Dog? This kind of absurdity makes more sense to me. Or The Raincoats; they were poetic. Speaking about politics, you place yourself in some kind of order and people can easily place you. It’s like you define yourself with mainstream language. I don’t want to fight something if I don’t understand it in the first place. It’s not being apolitical, it’s just trying to find a new angle.
I see what you mean. I’m totally there with you.
I like a bit of mystery. There’s so many things that people don’t know about you and if you present yourself like that – and make yourself even the slightest bit commercial – they may never find out. If I go on stage and I’ve got quite a deep voice, that could be more effective than anything else. Did you ever read this book based on the memoirs of the 19th-century French hermaphrodite, Hercule Barbin? It’s just amazing. You read it and you can’t tell what gender the person is – it’s literally androgynous writing. But it felt really familiar when I read it. It’s kind of written from an alienated stance – except the person didn’t really know he/she was different from others because people didn’t speak openly about sex in those days. So, it’s all very sincere and naïve. It’s really funny. He/she has all these intense love affairs with other girls – it’s just amazing.
I think it was Jean Cocteau or Truman Capote who said that hermaphrodites – or those in between – are the most clever. Maybe this is true.
I don’t know about clever, but I think people are often tied down by expectations towards their gender – and maybe androgynous people have more freedom because they don’t have that? Personally, I find people that you can’t really tell are male or female, the most attractive. And I also think it’s weird people having all these sex changes. It’s a major invasion of your body.
And some of the FTMs start to regret it?
Well you can’t get your tits back and you can’t get penises anyway - so you might as well forget it!