Who exactly is ‘Jennifer’ in the Faust song?
The so-called Krautrock scene that bubbled away across communes, art schools and university campuses as political uprisings engulfed West Germany at the sharp end of the 1960s was always a nebulous label lacking any definitive sound or archetype. Forged in the counterculture’s milieu, Can’s fluid progressive grooves, Tangerine Dream’s reach into sonic expanse, or Neu!’s muted motorik explorations were all wildly disparate from each other yet bound by the same artistic impulse to offer a new musical and creative language amid a nation fiercely rejecting an establishment congealed with SS residue among its ranks.
“There is no band more mythical than Faust,” exalted Julien Cope in 1995’s Krautrocksampler. While Tangerine Dream would jump to shiny new age noodling and Hollywood scores, and Kraftwerk would realise their electronic technological fascinations from 1974’s Autobahn after Krautrock’s peak, Faust, along with Amon Düül II, would indeed stand as the scene’s artists most shrouded in mystique.
Formed in Hamburg in 1971 and centred around cult journalist and producer Uwe Nettelbeck, drummer Werner ‘Zappi’ Diermaier and bassist Jean-Hervé Péron, a loose anarchic collective of members around them cut a beguiling jigsaw of inside-out folk, avant-garde tape experiments, and fuzzed-out garage attack all wrapped in a sideways sense of humour and jovial provocation.
Releasing three underground records and signing to Virgin Records in 1973, Faust dropped their defining and most accessible album yet that year. Faust IV saw the ensemble take another jump into synthesiser experiments and studio corruptions entwined with sweet country washes and blasts of terse ambient auras, another confounding entry into an already daring body of work. Its centrepiece is the 11-minute opener ‘Krautrock’, a wry riposte to the UK music press’ clumsy labelling bathed in feedback din and slithering dissonance that plays out like a generic slice of what Krautrock was perceived to be, while also cooking up one of its finest examples.
Yet for many, Faust IV‘s standout cut is the evocative ‘Jennifer’. A hypnotic ensconce of muffled bass warbles that takes a turn into metallic guitar freakout and ends on a hectic tack piano whirlwind, ‘Jennifer’ showcases everything audacious and jarring about the Hamburg collective. Its spacious minimalism is further illustrated by the simple yet evocative lyrical refrains that echo in the cut’s aural soup: “Jennifer, your red hair’s burning / Yellow jokes come out of your mind.”
It’s unclear what the “yellow jokes” are referring to, but the titular Jennifer was inspired by a real person. Recording the Faust IV sessions in Oxfordshire’s The Manor Studio—owned by Virgin Records boss Richard Branson—local intrigue inspired the dreamy track.
“There were some young country girls sneaking in and out of the manor’s grounds,” Péron recalled in 2004. “One was red-haired and had a fantastic aura: she was ‘glowing’ all over! Amazing, I still remember her presence without remembering her features… Anyway, she talked often with Rudolf, and obviously they laughed their heads off together. Rudolf made a song out of this encounter.”
Known for his sparky songcraft and multi-instrumental talent, Rudolf Sosna channelled the elusive Jennifer into an aptly amorphous piece that captures her sensuality and mischievous spirit for one of Faust’s finest moments. While musicologists may jump to The Faust Tapes or experimental purists drawn to ‘Krautrock’s buzzing thunder, ‘Jennifer’ stands as the band’s suitable introductory cut, a heady and enveloping conjure of stirring psych-rock that’s both profound and silly in perfectly enticing tandem.
