Neither Kramm (keyboardist/programmer/multi-instrumentalist/album cover designer), nor Galda (more keyboards, naturally), nor Ackermann (vocalist) were exactly made of marks when they formed Das Ich in 1989. But the group managed to carve a niche for themselves in America with a classically tinged orchestral style featuring industrial beats over a goth-cloaked setting -- with lyrics sung in German. Still, who would have thought that the combo would release more than a dozen albums and become one of industrial music's stalwarts? The band didn't have high expectations of its 1991 Germany-only debut, Die Propheten, released on Kramm's small Danse Macabre record label, yet it sold more than 30,000 copies and helped launch the band's dignified, albeit mainly underground, career.
"We first thought about making 2,000 copies [of our first record]," Kramm says, his English fluent yet flavored with a German accent that's more friendly than stern. "But it overwhelmed us. It came so quickly. The distribution company called us and was asking for 5,000 more copies every week. It was really amazing. We had no clue at this point how fast a band could grow. It was like a dream, actually."
The band's 13th and latest album, Anti' Christ, continues Das Ich's trek down the darkened corridors of Europe's industrial sectors, incorporating '80s synth sounds on tracks like "Engel" while adding dancey elements to "Das Dunkle Land" and injecting dramatic, somber orchestrations into "Der Uchte Tag." The idea of the Anti' Christ title isn't so much slamming religion or aggravating Catholics as it is looking at a post-9/11 world and the division that has stemmed from terrorism. "It was more about the political situation all around the world, especially today," Kramm explains. "Politicians today view the world as good or evil, and this is really dangerous. It reminds us of medieval times, when everything was just divided into good or bad. That's what we wanted to talk about in this album. Look at the United States. They're preparing to go to war against Iraq, and there is no more discussion. It's more about 'These guys are evil, and we are going to war against evil.' In Europe, this war will be much more difficult, because we live border-to-border with the Islamic world."
Back home in earlier years, Kramm (whose father was a classical composer and singer) learned to play piano around the same time he learned to walk. At age 16, he got his first synthesizer. "I always wanted to combine both worlds, electronic and classical music," he says. Kramm and Ackermann met in the late '80s, when the two dated the same woman at the same time. Instead of fighting over her, they became friends and started writing music, hanging out, having fun at nightclubs, and sporting funky hairdos. "He always danced like a crazy guy at the discotheque," Kramm explains of Ackermann's frontman routine, still a staple of the band's live performances (as are the band's outlandishly demonic get-ups).
Building a following on its home turf, Das Ich (translation: The Ego) set out to the United States to promote its music and released a string of albums on its own, including Staub, which remained on the German charts for 11 weeks, and the downtrodden Morgue. In 1995, the band teamed with death-metal act Atrocity for a side project named Die Liebe (The Love) and released a self-titled album that merged goth and metal.
Kramm, by this time, had grown tired of working both the creative and business sides of the music, and Das Ich signed with the German Edel label for 1998's Egodram, an album that introduced harsher tones and spawned club singles including the title track, "Destillat," and "Kindgott."
But the trio quickly became dissatisfied with Edel's efforts -- or lack thereof -- to promote the band, accusing the firm of focusing on its poppier acts and leaving Das Ich by the wayside. Pining for the DIY ethos that it embraced for many years, the band bid adieu to the label, and Galda elected to quit the band. "We didn't get the chance to decide on our video clip or single track," Kramm says. "I knew it was just better to do it on my own. If shit happens, then it's my own shit."
Back on the Danse Macabre imprint, Das Ich released 2000's Re_Laborat, featuring artists such as VNV Nation and Funker Vogt remixing various Das Ich tracks. "In Germany, we heard from many bands that we had been an influence on them, and it was interesting to listen to all these different remixes," Kramm says. "You can find out what's interesting for other people the way they translate your music." Eventually, American industrial label Metropolis, home of KMFDM, Pigface, and Peter Murphy, offered to put out Re_Laborat here in the U.S. the following year and subsequently released the new Anti' Christ.
As the band promotes Anti' Christ in America, it will release a best-of compilation in Europe cataloging its 13-year history. Kramm, meanwhile, keeps busy producing other bands, as well as performing with his side project, the aptly named Kramm, as well as earlier projects such as Fahrenheit 451, which he began in 1986. He has also been on the other end of the translation spectrum, composing a soundtrack album (Das Innere Ich) for the Hans Helmut Haessler-directed film Das Ewige Licht (The Eternal Light).
"I've always wanted to do new things," Kramm insists. "It's just a natural process to experiment. It's fascinating because it opens your mind and gives you inspiration for new projects."
