This is the third part in a series of posts about how I discovered Falco. The first part is here, the second part is here, the fourth part is here and the last part is here.

Realising that perhaps no-one (including, at this stage, myself) would be interested in a club night dedicated solely to Falco, my attention was still divided as I plunged into the Neue Deutsche Welle scene, searching for some sort additional context in which to place Falco’s music. And while I discovered some fantastic stuff (Die Doraus und Die Marinas, Frl. Menke, Markus and DÖF), nothing really stood out.

I downloaded the entire Falco discography (I’ve since bought them all, so no need to worry, legal people). And started listening to them, though with an ear to finding tracks which would work, or at least be tolerated, in a club.

On the night of the club, security was tight. We were expecting tens of people, possibly (we hoped) some people we didn’t even know.

In one corner, we set up a little tribute to Falco. A framed photo and candles.

We also had a memorial book, where people could write their own personal messages expressing their sadness over the tragedy of Falco’s untimely death. This, I thought, might be a bit of a risk. A memorial book in a bar where people have been drinking all night. It will either go missing, or the pens will go missing (I came prepared with three or four Staedtler Stick 430M ballpoints), or people will just draw three-line cocks all over every page. Amazingly, this didn’t happen. Everyone was very well behaved. The book stayed in its corner. I didn’t even have to replace the pen once. And not a single cock was drawn in the book.

I wrote this:

Some of the messages people wrote were heartfelt:

Some were quite elaborate:

Some people didn’t really know who Falco was:

And some people took the piss:

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