Verbatim

Gypsy swing

	An interview with Sinti swing members Janko Lauenberger and Bernd Huber about gypsy life in the shadow of the Wall and afterwards

Founded in 1985 in an East Berlin Plattenbausiedlung, Sinti Swing was unique in the history of the GDR in that most of its members were German Sintis whose parents had somehow survived the Nazi concentration camps. The band played jazz clubs and festivals. Then the Wall fell and the band had to reinvent itself. After a brief hiatus, the band reformed with some of the children of original members, including 33-year-old Launenberg. First there was a new CD, then a film was made about the band; now the revitalised group plays their blend of Django Reinhardt-inspired swing to great acclaim at European jazz fests. Speaking from an apartment in Lichtenberg, Launenberger and Huber discuss the origins of Sinti-swing, growing up in the GDR and their experience of the Wende.

How did Sinti Swing come together?

Janko Launenberg: It was in 1985, here in Lichtenberg. It was founded by an uncle of mine and my father. And he brought his two brothers into the band. And they found the violin player. That was Bernd. And so they formed the band. To begin with, they played in various clubs. For no money, because it was the GDR. They had to get an official permit and it was very difficult for them because only one of the band members went to a music school. They were autodidacts. They had to fight a long time for a permit. 

And what kind of gigs did the band have back then in East Berlin?

JL: At the beginning, it was in small clubs: youth clubs, small jazz clubs. Mostly swing. Django Reinhardt.

I’ve heard it was a little bit difficult to get Django Reinhardt records in the DDR.

JL: There was only one Django Reinhardt record in East Germany.

Bernd Huber: Two. One came in the 1960s or 1970s. 

Janko, you’re a Sinti. How big was the Sinti community in East Berlin? 

JL: There were very few. Here in East Berlin, there were five or six families. In Magdeburg, there were Sinti. And in Halle and in Erfurt. There were not many here.

What was it like to be a Sinti in the GDR? Was the communist dogma of equality and respect for minorities an everyday reality? 

JL: The state made no distinctions. It didn’t matter if you were a Gypsy: you were a citizen of the GDR. But there were very few foreigners in East Germany, and we had black hair and were brown. It was not really racism, but people dealt differently with people who looked different. It was rather difficult: I had problems at school.

BH: On the one hand, people were regarded as equal. But on the other, no one dealt with the unique history of the Sinti. It wasn’t dealt with in school. There was a very well-known children’s book, Edo und Uko, that was very popular in the Eastern Bloc and it was about a Sinti family. It was required reading in the GDR in the 1970s. But at the same time, people didn’t know who Sinti really were and that Janko was a Sinti. Or that he was related to the people in the book. It was a little bit contradictory. 

In the Third Reich, half a million Sinti were put to death. Janko, you have relatives who died in concentration camps.

JL: That’s true. My father’s parents were killed. And on my mother’s side, only her father and her grandmother came out alive. She lost eight siblings. Most of our family was lost. We would be many, many more if that hadn’t happened. If it weren’t for Adolf Hitler, there’d be so many musicians here: there would be so many Sinti Swings.

BH: And that was something that was never dealt with in the GDR. One learned about fascism and the Holocaust in school, but never about what happened to the Gypsies. 

Did your family receive compensation from the state?

JL: My grandfather had to fight for it for a long time, for the so-called VDN [Verfolgte des Naziregimes] pension. He got it in the end; my grandmother as well. But there were a lot of Sinti who did not receive anything. 

As East Germans, how did you experience the fall of the Wall?

BH: Difficult question. On the one hand, one knew that it couldn’t go on. Things had stagnated. When the Wall fell, we were naturally happy. At the same time, we didn’t know what was coming.

What were your first impressions of the West? 

BH: We went over a couple of days later. It was suddenly like a jump forward in time. Forty years in the course of two minutes. It was lively. Everything looked a little different. The cars smelled different: this funny, sweet smell. The West Berliners were very open.

JL: As soon as we heard the border was open, we went across at Warschauer Straße. We had relatives who met us on the other side. It was a terrific party: we didn’t go home for three days. Every night we slept somewhere else. There were so many colors: all the neon advertisements. They didn’t exist in the East. Everything there was grey. 

But after three days on the Ku’damm, you noticed the essential differences. In the East, you had money but couldn’t buy anything. In the West, you had everything, but you had no money to buy it. After three days, you had the feeling that you had seen the world. You had seen everything. Everything. We went home and thought to ourselves, how can we get a mountain of money. It didn’t work. And then we noticed that the band wasn’t working like it had in the past. In the past, everyone called us up. Now we had to make the calls, advertise ourselves. Our exotic appeal was gone. 

So was it a difficult time for the band? 

JL: In the GDR, we played in the best clubs all over East Germany. When the border opened up, Sinti Swing also played in a lot of super clubs. Then, for a long time it was as though the band didn’t exist. We played in a couple of clubs. Then we made a record, and a documentary film was made about our band. Now we’re having a coming-out and we’re new again. Things are moving in a new direction. We see the students of elderly jazz lovers and Django Reinhardt fans.

Is the music of Django Reinhardt still valid today?

JL: Yes, definitely. Of course, it has a lot to do with the 1930s and 1940s. But it’s timeless. We play in front of audiences who have never heard this music before.You can’t explain it - you just have to see how they react to it. The kind of rhythm is interesting: the guitars take the place of percussion. It has a unique sound. The more modern the world becomes, the more real Django Reinhardt is. 

Do you miss anything from GDR times?

JL: Firstly, the easy-going nature of the people. The social contact was much better, really. The people were friendlier. Today, everything is cold and it’s a dog-eat-dog world. ‘What do I care about you? You don’t interest me. I’m better than you.’ That didn’t exist in the East. The system today is not better than the system in the GDR. When you were sick, you went to the doctor and didn’t have to pay millions. Today you can only dream of those things. You should have seen a street festival in the East in the 1980s. How the people partied.  It was amazing. People were happy. They had security. It was a good time.

Now there are many Gypsies in Berlin. Janko - do you, as a Sinti, have contact with these new Roma immigrants from the Balkans?

JL: Not really. We play with a couple of Roma musicians, but we have really very little contact with these people. They come from somewhere else. They don’t know us. The dialects are really quite different and they have a totally different lifestyle from ours. The contact isn’t there, though we know we have a common language and we come from the same place. Our lives are too different.

What’s the difference between Sinti and Roma? Don't you speak the same Romanes language? 

JL: Yes. But Gypsies that grew up in Hungary speak a different language than Gypsies who grew up in Germany. It has to do with time. Seen in terms of time, we are more advanced than others.

The Gypsies of eastern Europe have brought their music west to great success. Do you see a bit of a renaissance taking place in the field of Roma and Sinti music?

JL: Through this music that is coming from the east, people are getting accustomed to the Roma and the Sinti.  We are one of the last unexplored peoples.  People are curious. 

You live in Lichtenberg, around Weitlingkiez, infamous for being a rightwing stronghold…

JL: It was like that in the past, but not any more. More and more foreigners are coming, and all the neo-Nazis are hiding. They can’t express themselves openly because there’ll be problems. Now a lot of people from Friedrichshain are coming over. I don’t think that’s necessarily so great. But here we have peace between racism and muli-kulti.

Are you politically active?

JL: Not really. In interviews we try to inform people about who we are. We don’t live in caravans and we don’t practice magic anymore. 

Are there still prejudices?

JL: Of course, there are prejudices everywhere. I had a girlfriend, she said “What, you’re a Gypsy? No way! If my grandmother only knew!” She thought that Gypsies kidnap children and steal. Stealing children: that’s the best. But I don’t let myself get upset by it. 

If I call you a Zigeuner, is that ok with you?

JL: It depends on how you say it. If you say, “swing and jazz music of the Zigeuner”, it’s not an insult. But if someone says “Du Zigeuner!” then it has an undertone. It’s better if you can distinguish between Roma and Sinti, and if you say “Hey Sinto!”.

March 2010 [issue 81]