ROBERT WEBER

The following article is an overview of the career of Swiss multi-instrumentalist, arranger, and music educator Robert Weber. The main source of information is an interview with Mr Weber, conducted by Bas Tukker in December 2024. The article below is subdivided into two main parts; a general career overview (part 3) and a part dedicated to Robert Weber’s Eurovision involvement (part 4).

All material below: © Bas Tukker / 2024

Contents

1. Passport
2. Short Eurovision record
3. Biography
4. Eurovision Song Contest
5. Other artists about Robert Weber
6. Eurovision involvement year by year
7. Sources & links

PASSPORT

Born: April 14th, 1946, Wetzikon (Switzerland)

Nationality: Swiss 

SHORT EUROVISION RECORD

Robert Weber was the orchestrator and conductor of Switzerland’s 1983 Eurovision entry ‘Io così non ci sto’, a composition by Tommy Gonzenbach and Remo Kessler with lyrics by Nella Martinetti, which was performed on the festival stage in Munich by Mariella Farré.

BIOGRAPHY

Robert Weber was born in 1946 in Wetzikon, where his father and uncle ran a butcher’s shop. “It’s fair to say that I wasn’t exactly born into a musical family,” Weber smiles. “My parents were wonderful, hard-working people. The only connection to music came from my mother, who hailed from Appenzell, a region endowed with a strong musical tradition. The Appenzeller string music is closely related to gypsy traditions. My mother was a good singer. Her voice was crystal-clear and flawless, but given that she had been born in 1910 as a farmer’s daughter, she had never had the opportunity to study an instrument.”

“When I was five years old, I was given a Schwyzerörgeli as a present, a small, diatonic button accordion. The fascination was there from the start. Without having an idea how to begin, I kept on trying to get melodies from the instruments – and, one way or another, I managed. I simply didn’t give up. As my parents later told me, I was playing Christmas tunes on it in the middle of the summer. At that point, they sent me to an accordion teacher. This was a very nice man, very fatherly, very disciplined. Crucially, he knew how to read music. He managed to transmit this skill to me, which was really important. Now, my sister also took music lessons – she played the piano, an instrument which I thought was boring, but somehow I decided I wanted to try and have some lessons as well, and that’s how I got to know the piano too.” 

“In my parents’ house, we didn’t have a telephone or television, there was just a radio-record player combination. One way or another, I must have heard some jazz music on that radio. At that stage, I didn’t even know how to pronounce the word jazz – it was several years later that one of my nieces convinced me about the correct English pronunciation. At some point, I got wind of Louis Armstrong giving a concert in the Hallenstadion in Zurich (in November 1955 – BT). I successfully implored my father to take me there. To put it mildly, my dad wasn’t really impressed by Armstrong’s singing abilities, but I was hooked from that moment on. As it turned out, my accordion teacher had a maxi single of the Maynard Ferguson Octet. It was fascinating listening to that band’s alto sax player, Herb Geller – an incredible musician. Listening to the record time after time, I slowly realised what harmonies they were actually playing. I never studied jazz music in my life, but I instinctively knew that this was my preferred type of music.”

Robert (third from right) playing the trumpet with his first band, The Maryland Stompers, at an edition of the Amateur Jazz Festival – Corso Theatre, Zurich (c. 1963)

“Other than the Armstrong concert, I loved going to the movies to watch music films, particularly those with Peter Alexander accompanied by the Max Greger Big Band. One day, policemen performed a check. I knew I was too young. I was only twelve years old, whereas cinemas were only open to children from fourteen years onwards. Therefore, I had to slip out just the same way as I had got in. It’s a memory that has always stayed with me.”

“Probably after seeing Louis Armstrong perform on stage, I was determined to learn to play the trumpet. I started out by myself, finding a classical trumpet player a little later who helped me on my way. Those were just a few lessons, because I have always preferred finding out by myself. The motivation was inside of me. These days, it’s fashionable for institutors to invest a lot of energy in motivating children, but that’s all wrong; children should motivate themselves. Later on in life, after the accordion, the piano, and the trumpet, I also learned to play the trombone and the flute… five instruments in all. I’ve never been able to pick a favourite and I’ve continued playing them all my life.”

“At age fourteen, I formed my first amateur jazz band, The Maryland Stompers. It was an eight-piece swing band. I played the trumpet. Even though I was the youngest band member, I was the one who had to make sure that everyone played in harmony. It wasn’t real arranging yet, because I didn’t put pen to paper, but I coordinated the bits where we had to play as a group. Sometimes, I had to show others what to do by playing their parts on my trumpet. Our repertoire consisted of tunes we had heard on the radio. In 1963, we were invited to perform at the Zurich Amateur Jazz Festival, which had been organised by André Berner. We performed quite a lot in those years – also as a quartet, in which I switched to the piano. These were great times. I also played in several other ensembles occasionally, notably the Renato Bui Orchestra. Renato was an excellent accordionist. Later on, in the 1970s, he called me again and this started my second spell with his band.”

“At that time, going to the academy to study music simply wasn’t on the table. That was not an option. At the age of fifteen, I was sent to a vocational school in Saint-Croix. Even though I knew this wasn’t for me, I just wanted to please my father. Meanwhile, I continued to perform during the weekends with my own band. After one year, I obtained my school diploma. Following the obligatory seventeen weeks of military service, I decided I wanted to get out. I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps and I told him so. I booked myself an English language course in Bournemouth and got into my Austin-Healey sports car. The last words my father said to me were, ‘I believe this is the better solution for you.’ It broke my heart a little to have to say goodbye to this wonderful man. This was in April 1967. Tragically, he passed away only six months later at the age of 62. I’m grateful to both of my parents for letting me choose my own path. There was never an argument between them and me.”

Playing with English musicians in a pub during his stay in Bournemouth for a language course (1967)

“While away in England, I received a letter from a professional musician who was a friend of mine. He was working in a quintet formed by a bandleader from Berlin, Hans Thorsten. They were looking for a trumpet player. I could have the job if I was interested. This was an opportunity to try my luck as a music professional. I replied in the affirmative that same day! We started out in Stuttgart, moving to Sweden for the summer season – and in fact staying there for the winter season as well. After that first year, Hans Thorsten sent all of us away on a month’s holiday, claiming that he had a new contract waiting for all of us in Dancing Tabaris in Zurich. From the first moment, I felt that something was wrong. I didn’t believe him – and, as it turned out, I was right. We didn’t hear from Hans Thorsten again; and to make matters worse, he owed me a considerable sum of money.”

“Out of work, I signed up to an artists’ management agency in Zurich. I was completely reconciled to the idea of cutting short my music career, but I wanted to give it one more try. That same day, I received a phone call from this manager, who told me that Kurt Weil was looking for a musician. I had heard of Weil, a jazz guy who played the vibraphone. I took my trumpet and reported at the Hazyland Club in Zurich, where he was playing. The first thing he said when he saw me was, ‘What’s up with the trumpet?’ As it turned out, he was looking for a pianist. ‘Alright, that’s fine,’ I said, ‘I play the piano as well.’ Technically speaking, this was true, but I wasn’t a seasoned, professional pianist. Then he said, ‘Do you know ‘Misty’?’ Well, yes, I knew the piece. As it turned out, it was the tune Weil performed at every concert; the vibraphone solo he played in it was really incredible. After I had played the melody for him, he said, ‘That’s settled then, you can join us – and the band will teach you about the rest as we go.’ That’s how I became Kurt Weil’s pianist. Later on, I played the trumpet for him as well – and, because some of his arrangements required a trombone, I bought myself a valve trombone, teaching myself how to handle it. Versatility became my trademark. I played whichever instrument a bandleader wanted me to play at any given moment.”

“The next stop with the Kurt Weil Sextet was Stockholm, so after three months I was back in Sweden. Almost immediately, I heard that Hans Thorsten was also in town, performing in a nightclub with a new band. I went there to have a word with him – and when I met him in the dressing room, I said, ‘Hello Hans, I’m back!’ He turned as pale as snow. ‘You know that you still owe me something,’ I continued, but as he was unwilling to acknowledge that, I turned to the Swedish musicians’ union, who invited both of us to their Stockholm headquarters. I had all the papers with me proving the exact amount due. He was told summarily to pay me or else he would have to leave the country immediately. Yes, those Swedish unions were powerful at the time! I was really satisfied being able to turn the tables on Hans Thorsten. My character is really quiet and peaceful, but I just can’t stand injustice.”

“At the time, foreign bands were wildly popular in Sweden. This was way before ABBA and, although there were excellent musicians in Sweden – especially in the jazz field – they hadn’t really discovered yet how to entertain an audience with a slick stage performance. The Swedes liked listening to all those exotic bands from abroad. Kurt Weil had built an excellent reputation in Sweden on the back of earlier spells he had spent up in Northern Europe. He was a very musical guy and I got along with him wonderfully. He had purchased a wide range of arrangements in America. Not sticking to just jazz, we played entertainment music as well; Tom Jones’ hit songs, or instrumental tunes by Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass, which were very popular at the time. For the Herb Alpert repertoire, I switched from the piano to the trumpet. The variety of repertoire suited me. I’ve always loved playing all kinds of different styles.”

The Kurt Weil Sextet in Sweden with American vocalist Marsha Powel, from left: Robert Weber, Eddie Hofmann, Chris Winter, Rolf Thomen, Karl-Heinz Böhm, and Kurt Weil

“Kurt Weil was also booked for some performances in Norway. Now, our saxophonist was from West Germany, a fine musician called Karl-Heinz Böhm. He travelled with his own car, which naturally had a German license plate. In Norway, which had experienced German occupation during the war, it was obvious that Germans weren’t very popular. This guy’s antenna was broken – and he was even kicked out of a B&B where we were staying, when the lady who owned the place found out where he was from. They obviously hadn’t forgotten about the war in Norway.”

“In 1968, we were invited to perform at the Umeå Jazz Festival, the northernmost jazz festival in Europe. After the regular performances, which took place on various stages across the town, the musicians would meet in a nightclub and have jam sessions. I had the opportunity to play with some incredible people, like the American tenor saxophonist Dexter Gordon and the Swedish trumpet genius Rolf Ericsson. Later on, we also did a tour across Sweden accompanying Jon Hendricks, an American jazz singer who had been part of the legendary trio Lambert, Hendricks & Ross. It was an incredible sensation for me, who had been a professional musician for only about a year or two, finding myself on stage with this world-class artist. The tour took us to universities and nightclubs across Sweden.”

“While I was performing with Kurt Weil in a club in Malmö, I received a telephone call from an Argentinian sax player called Hugo Heredia. He was playing in Bob Azzam’s orchestra in the Operakällaren, an exclusive restaurant in Stockholm. As it happened, the majority of Bob’s musicians were about to leave – and, you guessed it, he wondered if I was interested being part of the new Bob Azzam Orchestra. It was a great opportunity. Musicians were standing in line to play with Bob Azzam at the time, because he was a big star. That’s why I decided to take the leap. That was in 1969.”

“Bob Azzam was an Arab whose family originated from Lebanon. He had had an international hit with ‘Mustapha’ some years before and, as a result, he was invited to play at the best venues. His band consisted of seven musicians from seven different countries. I enjoyed an excellent working relationship with Bob. The summer was spent in Sweden, while most of the winter season we played at expensive places in Switzerland, like the Hotel Regina in Grindelwald and Hotel Suvretta in St. Moritz, where we did a private show for the Shah of Persia, with whom Bob Azzam was personal friends. In Paris, we performed for the Rothschilds. In 1969, we also spent a couple of months in Paris, where we did a live gig on television as well as being invited to do a private performance for the Rothschilds. In between, we also recorded an album there, ‘The Great Expectations’ – my first experience of professional studio work.”

Robert Weber (in white) on stage in Restaurant Cecil in Stockholm with the Kurt Weil Sextet and American star vocalist John Hendricks

“I stayed with Bob Azzam for three years. The summer season in Scandinavia was great. We mainly played in Operakällaren, with spells in between in the rest of Sweden and even short excursions to Finland. Looking back on those five years in Sweden, I have to say that those were the best years in my life. I was living a dream. The freedom of living a life on the road was great – and I was fortunate enough to be with orchestras with extremely disciplined musicians. There were no colleagues with drinking problems in the ensembles of Kurt Weil and Bob Azzam. We all enjoyed our job too much to be distracted by such thing. Furthermore, Sweden is a wonderful country. I would have loved to stay there for the rest of my life, but the conservative part of my character told me that it wouldn’t be wise to continue working in nightclubs and hotels for years on end. It’s the type of life which is attractive when you’re young, but which becomes more difficult once you want to settle with your family.”

“So in early 1972, when I was 26 years old, I forced myself to stop. As a musician, I felt that I lacked credibility without a proper education in that field. That’s why I came back to Switzerland to go to the conservatoire. Moreover, I had to admit to myself that I was more rooted in my native region, the Zürcher Oberland, than I had imagined before. Contrary to many of my colleagues in the bands I had been playing in, I had saved myself some money. This enabled me to buy a wonderful old half-timbered house in my native Wetzikon, where I have lived until the present day.”

“My original plan was to study the trombone, which I had grown to love during my years in Sweden. The flexibility of this instrument somehow matched my mentality. Because the curriculum at the Winterthur Conservatoire was purely classical, I wanted the advice of a classical trombonist before filling in the form to register as a student. After a couple of phone calls, I got in touch with a musician who played the trombone in a classical orchestra. He was an elderly gentleman, in fact quite close to the retirement age, Herr Humm. In my conversation with him, he didn’t really motivate me. ‘Why would you pick the trombone? It’s rather dull having to play the trombone in a classical orchestra, you know… you won’t get more than a couple of bars in most concerts. Don’t you have another option?’ Well, of course I also played the trumpet and the flute. ‘In that case, I would recommend the flute. The classical repertoire for flute is so much more interesting than the trombone’s!’ And that’s how this man brought about a change of plans. I applied at the academy as a flute student.”

“In Winterthur, I was taught classical music lessons for the first time. The genre had always interested me, but due to my background it had always remained a closed book. Now, I had the opportunity to play Mozart’s concertos and all twelve of Bach’s sonatas as a flute player. My obligatory side-instrument was the piano – and I even did four semesters of classical guitar, an instrument which fascinated me so much that I began to neglect the flute. I knew there was no chance for me to have a career in a symphony orchestra. I was far too old. All my fellow students were adolescents, at least ten years younger than me. I studied purely out of personal interest and motivation – although much of the theory was mostly about learning the correct terminology for everything I had already taught myself in the previous two decades. In the end, I stayed at the academy for four years.”

The Bob Azzam Orchestra, from left: the two Swiss band members Georges Rosset and ‘Robbie’ Weber, Paolo Bruttomesso (Italy), Bob Azzam, Hugo Heredia (Argentina), Freddie Delagaye (Belgium), and Nick Patridge (Great Britain)

“During my studies, my old friend Hans Peters, a Dutch saxophonist who I had first met while we were both touring Sweden a couple of years previously, asked me for a replacement job as a trumpet player in the DRS Big Band. Hans had settled in Zurich, where he had found employment in the big band. At the time, the DRS Big Band was without a doubt the best radio big band in Switzerland. Henry Mancini and Maynard Ferguson had agreed to work with them, which tells you something. Its conductor at the time was Hans Moeckel, who originally came from the world of symphonic brass music and an excellent arranger. My first job was when the band accompanied a popular Saturday night TV show, Teleboy. In the following years, I became a regular replacement – not only playing the trumpet, but filling in as pianist and flute or piccolo player as well. I loved working with the band, not least because there was a squadron of Swedish guys in it, all of them excellent musicians, notably Lennart Axelsson on trumpet. I also got along well with Hans Moeckel.”

“One thing then led to the other. Peter Jacques, who was Moeckel’s assistant MD at the DRS Big Band, asked me to join a smaller ensemble, with which we did soirees in dance halls across the country. Other than that, the pianist of the Peter Jacques Orchestra, Renato Anselmi, had his own live band, Orchester Peacock, in which I also was a regular. There was also a third band, the Swiss Horns, which was originally a cover band of musicians from the Aargau region. One of their trumpet players also worked for Swiss radio – and, via him, I joined this band too, a twelve-man strong group led by a reeds player called Markus Kühne. This was the first band I had ever played in, in which I was not the youngest musician… here, suddenly, I was the oldest but one! After a while, we did away with the covers and began performing our own repertoire, mostly in jazz rock style. We were reasonably successful, with TV performances in Switzerland and Germany, sometimes backing up artists, like Bibi Johns. Besides, we also released two albums.”

“Other than that, I worked as a pianist in cabarets in Zurich, mainly in the Bernhard Theater. I got to accompany some of the old stars of the music-hall scene in Switzerland, comedians like Jörg Schneider and Margrit Rainer. In fact, Renato Anselmi and I more or less subdivided the cabaret work between ourselves, as we were the only pianists available in Zurich who had this ability. It involved quick sight-reading as well as being flexible in moments when a singer forgot his lyrics. In fact, I rather enjoyed this line of work.” 

“In those years after my return from Sweden, I also played in all kinds of bands. I called them gala telephone bands and they mainly consisted of former professional musicians. They just gave me a call, ‘Are you free this Saturday?’, and if I was, I took my trumpet and joined them. Those older gentlemen taught me a lot, because they knew their trade inside-out. The repertoire we were playing wasn’t just ballroom music and Swiss folklore; audiences were also expecting you to play songs by The Beatles and other acts which were in the charts. Furthermore, I worked as a pit musician in several musical productions in the Zurich Opera House. The first was a piece called Z wie Züri, composed by Hans Moeckel. In the first rehearsal, Hans stood right behind me while I was playing the piano. I was a bit intimidated playing the score for the first time with the old maestro himself on my back – and I tried to play it safe by leaving out the more complicated bits, but Hans wouldn’t have it. ‘No, that’s not how it’s done, Robert,’ he said. He did the right thing, pushing me to my limits. He knew me well enough!”

Weber surrounded by fellow flute players Hans Peters (left) and Fernando Vicencio for the project ‘The Flute Circle’, his first-ever recording in the DRS radio studios in Zurich (1972)

“One thing I had never done or even aspired to do was writing arrangements. I had always been simply one of the musicians in the band. Then, one day in 1977 or 1978, I was approached by a German artist called Georg Preuße. He was looking for an arranger for a cross-dressing comedy music act called Mary & Gordy, a duo made up of Georg himself and Reiner Kohler. Honestly speaking, after the call I had to look up the term Travestie (the German word for cross-dressing - BT) in a dictionary to find out what exactly he was talking about. He was looking for lavish band arrangements to well-known songs they had in mind to use in their theatre show. If I remember correctly, Renato Anselmi advised him to call me. As always, I wanted to give it a try, just to test myself and see if I could do it. Georg then gave me one or two titles of songs and I put myself to work.”

“Honestly speaking, I was sweating blood! I had never felt so intimidated in all my life. Where to start? Fortunately, I had once bought Henry Mancini’s standard work about orchestration, Sounds And Scores, but I had never really looked into it in detail. Now, I devoured the book that same evening – and then, burning the midnight oil, I made a transcription of the original of the first song he had asked of me, ‘The Lady Is A Tramp’, reworking it to a version for six brass players. This was before the time you could use a computer to check if there were any wrong notes in your score. Everything was done with pencil and paper. The following day, the recording was done in a studio with guys from the DRS Big Band. We did the session and to my relief, the result was really good! None of the musicians present in the studio knew this was my first-ever arrangement. I simply acted if I had never done anything else in my life.”

“Subsequently, Georg Preuße also wanted me to be the musical director for Mary & Gordy. We hired a sextet, the dance band of Bill Banger, which we took on the road. Later, a string quartet with players from the Warsaw Philharmonic was added. That was the next challenge; writing for strings! I did an exhaustive tour with them; 186 concerts, subdivided into two batches of 93, each of them without a single day off, criss-crossing the length and breadth of the country. Mary & Gordy were incredibly popular. They were Germany’s number-one theatre act for many years. All those venues were packed to the rafters. There were also several TV shows – can you imagine, my arrangements being played by Horst Jankowski’s RIAS Tanzorchester in West Berlin!”

“The Mary & Gordy episode lasted some four to five years. When they moved to Berlin for half a year of performing in a theatre up there, I decided to call it a day. I didn’t want to live in Berlin. Being away from home for so long simply meant I would lose too many other commissions here in Switzerland. The MD’ship was then taken over by the pianist of the Bill Banger Band. Apart from being very enjoyable, those years with Mary & Gordy were a fabulous learning experience. I had never been an MD, let alone of such an ambitious project. Moreover, I had now learnt how to be an arranger. This opened new doors for me as a music professional.”

The Mary & Gordy record ‘Meistens ist gar nichts dahinter’ (1983), with dedications to Robert Weber, written by the two artists

“From that time, I became in demand as a studio arranger, although it never became my main line of work. I had already been a session player in Zurich for some years and the little arranging commissions here and there were a nice bonus. In the first half of the 1980s, I had the opportunity to take part in the Seoul Song Festival in South Korea as an arranger and conductor for Switzerland (about which much more in the Eurovision part of this interview below – BT). In 1982, I even arranged a song which ended up at number one in the Swiss charts, ‘Figlio del sud’. It was interpreted by an Italian singer-songwriter who called himself Mastrovito. The project came my way thanks to Willy Viteka, a producer who I worked with regularly in those years. I wrote the arrangement based on a demo with just this Italian guy singing while accompanying himself on the guitar. Mastrovito had a nice voice, but unfortunately, this was his only hit.”

“A speciality of mine was writing advertisement melodies and radio jingles – all the jingles used by Radio SRF Musikwelle are mine, composed, arranged, everything. Furthermore, Hans Moeckel asked me to be one of the regular arrangers for the DRS Big Band. For the band, I wrote scores to radio plays and vocal performances, including one for television with Vico Torriani. Meanwhile, I continued doing replacement gigs with the band as well. I did not join them as a regular player. I have always been too much attached to my freedom to have a 9 to 5 job.”

“In 1984, there was an interesting interlude, when Pepe Lienhard called me to join him and his orchestra as a replacement trumpet player for a two-month engagement in the Sporting Club in Monte Carlo. In fact, it was the third year in a row Pepe spent the summer season in Monaco. We played dance repertoire there in alternation with the regular orchestra, led by Aimé Barelli. Barelli was a real old-fashioned frontman who led the band, played the trumpet, and sang – and a true gentleman, who received us in the most friendly of ways. That summer, I got to accompany the likes of Paul Anka and The Supremes. The highlight was a gala concert for the Red Cross, with the star guest being Frank Sinatra. To that end, the Pepe Lienhard Band was reinforced with extra percussion and a woodwind section.”

“Apart from his own musical director, Sinatra had brought with him a pianist, bass player, and drummer from America. First, we had one day of rehearsals with Sinatra’s conductor. This American way of working was a revelation! It’s so much more professional than what I was used to in Switzerland. It was extremely disciplined, but much more relaxed than the German kind of discipline. The afternoon before the concert, we had a rehearsal with Sinatra, who showed up at the exact scheduled time. We performed only bits and pieces of the songs which he was going to perform, some transitions here and there. After twenty minutes, Frank just said, ‘Ok, see you tonight!’ He had heard what he wanted to hear. Accompanying Sinatra in that concert in Monte Carlo was a real highlight in my career.”

Mastrovito’s number one record ‘Figlio del sud’, an arrangement by Robert Weber

“Sadly, in 1986, the German-speaking Swiss broadcaster decided to disband the DRS Big Band. The breaking point had been the unexpected death of Hans Moeckel (in 1983 – BT). The band needed Moeckel. It was true that his predecessor Cédric Dumont was a better salesman than him. Dumont loved being the centre of attention, but the upside of this was that the band was in the spotlight all the time as well. Hans sometimes forgot about this. On the other hand, he was extremely knowledgeable in the field of music. Peter Jacques once said, ‘I wish I possessed just ten percent of that man’s expertise.’ Furthermore, Moeckel’s arrangements were second to none. His film scores are top-notch as well. Unfortunately, Hans was a heavy smoker. The fact that he didn’t have the most healthy of lifestyles may have played a part in his untimely passing.”

“Hans Moeckel had always formed a good team with Peter Jacques. Peter was a fantastic pianist, but, with Moeckel gone, he lacked the qualities to fight for the survival of the big band by himself. As it happened, I had booked the band to record a signature tune for some radio programme on the day when the news of the disbandment transpired. That was the hardest working day in my life. Understandably, the musicians lacked the motivation to work. One of them was even crying. Without a doubt, the DRS Big Band had always been the best band in Switzerland. The country’s music culture had lost something valuable once they were gone.”

“At the point when the big band was sent packing, I was offered a regular job with DRS Radio as a music editor. This type of desk work suited me quite well. I knew the repertoire and I could do the work whenever I liked, which left me ample opportunity to work as a freelance musician. Of course, much of this editing just came down to creating an attractive mix of records, but there were special programmes as well. I particularly remember a radio documentary about Antonio Carlos Jobim. The complete script was mine, an ambitious project. Productions like that were satisfying to work on.”

“Meanwhile, I continued doing recording sessions. I worked quite a lot with the Keiser Twins, Walter and Peter, who were studio musicians and producers. Thanks to their connections, I had had a spell at the Theater an der Wien in the early 1980s, playing keyboards in the pit orchestra accompanying the musical Cats. In 1989, Walter Keiser asked me to write the string arrangements for Nena’s new album (‘Wunder gescheh’n – BT). This was right after she had left the Nena band and gone solo. Walter Keiser was her producer on that project. The recordings were done in a studio in Stein am Rhein. At the time, she was still very popular on the back of her hit ‘99 Luftballons’ some years before, but the success hadn’t gone to her head. She was a funny girl and very pleasant to work with.”

Nena’s first solo album in 1989  had string arrangements done by Robert Weber

“Those are just a couple of projects that spring to mind, but I did all kinds of different things. I conducted the sessions for an album with the Stadtmusik Zürich Big Band. A very special commission was when a dressage rider asked me to compose a piano piece exactly timed to fit his performance. I recorded it in Gerry Braukmann’s studio in Dubendorf. The rider was happy to use the composition; in fact, he said it was perfect, but on the day the horse had made two steps too many! Around the turn of the century, however, the session work dried up rapidly. The most lucrative work had been in advertisement music, but acoustic instruments were replaced by electronic ones – and in the end, everybody just started putting together sounds generated by his home computer. It was a bad development, because electronic music lacks a soul. There’s no soul in electrical current, you know! You just cannot generate a feeling with a synthesiser. It produces a sound, but somehow there’s no life to it.”

“By that time, I could fall back on my teaching job. I had already started giving music lessons in 1973 – not as my main source of income, but simply to diversify my activities. I taught the flute and the trumpet at two local music schools in the region where I live, close to Zurich. Most of my students were beginners. My teaching principle has always been the same: rather than being their teacher, I tell them that I’m their coach – the difference being that a coach just makes sure that his pupil doesn’t learn things the wrong way. That’s the main thing, because, if the motivation and natural giftedness are there, they’ll learn to do the rest independently. I’ve always enjoyed teaching, especially with pupils who were interested in music. If they weren’t, I just made sure I had a good time with them.”

“Some time in 1988, a relative of mine was looking for a wedding band and asked me if I could help out. At that point, I decided to finally form a band myself instead of calling others to do the job. I mean, I had always been playing with others – why couldn’t I put something together myself? So I formed a quartet for that wedding with a bassist I knew well, and with two former members of the Pepe Lienhard Band, Christian von Hoffmann on drums and Francis Coletta on guitar. I sat at the piano. I put together a set list of songs which everybody knew and we went there without a single rehearsal. We were called the Cocktail & Dance Band initially.”

“I decided this was a fruitful idea, so we kept on working together. After a while, Francis Coletta left and he was replaced by Bill von Arx, also an original member of the Pepe Lienhard Band. Later, he became my fellow editor at DRS Radio. When Bill joined us, the name of the band was changed to become the Robert Weber-Bill von Arx-Band. Our repertoire covered all corners of the entertainment business; Argentine tangos, operettas, pop songs, West Side Story, anything really. Sometimes, the band was reinforced with a singer. We played at corporate events and private parties just about anywhere. One of the highlights was a concert at the Hotel Montana in Lucerne, where we performed with the legendary bandleader Hazy Osterwald, who was a magnificent vibraphone player. One time, we were even booked to play in a satirical film, Beresina oder die letzten Tage der Schweiz. It was just one scene, which was set in a dance hall. The concept of our band was a success. All four of us knew the repertoire inside out, so we didn’t have to waste time rehearsing. I put together a set of lead sheets, which we would play through for a bit during the sound check.”

The Robert Weber-Bill von Arx-Band with singer Miriam Dee, from left: Robert Weber, Philip Scholl, August Züger, and Bill von Arx (c. 2006)

“Apart from the work with our own band, I did occasional performances with others here and there. I joined the Swiss Air Orchestra as a keyboard player for a tour in conjunction with the Swiss Army Concert Band with Bill Ramsey as the solo singer. There were also other artists who I accompanied on the road – Peggy March and Lys Assia are names that spring to mind. Lys did a concert for the elderly in Bienne, with me leading the accompanying trio at the piano. It must have been some time in the 1990s. Lys Assia considered herself a world star, but she was very friendly. It has to be given to her that she sang really well in spite of her advancing age. I remember sitting at the piano while she performed ‘Oh, mein Papa’. That was a special moment. This song had been a worldwide hit in the 1950s and it struck me at that moment that this lady was the performer of the original version.”

“In fact, I could have made a living on performing alone, but I always wanted to have more than one iron in the fire. So I also continued teaching for many more years. In 2006, I said goodbye to DRS Radio after more than thirty consecutive years, initially as a player and arranger, later as an editor. Eventually, after more than thirty years of activity, the Robert Weber-Bill von Arx-Band ceased its activities in 2022. The type of galas which we performed at was on the brink of disappearing. We were the last band of its kind in Switzerland. There are no others left who can cover such a wide repertoire range. I always enjoyed performing with the band. We had a good working relationship and every wedding, every event, was a different experience. Every time I closed the front door of my house to go to a performance, I did so with a smile on my face because I was looking forward to it.”

“Nowadays, I have practically stopped working. There’s just one band I’m in, an ensemble accompanying Christian Jott Jenny on stage. Christian is a classically educated singer, who specialises in operetta and musical repertoire, but he also loves jazz. He is the man who founded the St. Moritz Jazz Festival! I got to know him some twenty years ago when he was one of the singers in a tour of children’s musical songs. I was the flute player in the accompanying band. Christian and I have stayed in touch ever since. At some point, Christian wanted to put together a band to accompany him on stage, with him interspersing songs with comic anecdotes. This was just around the time when the work for the Robert Weber-Bill von Arx-Band started drying up. That’s when we allowed our band to be absorbed by the Zürcher Staatsorchester, which has one extra keyboard player and a violinist – six musicians in total. We’ve continued performing regularly, even after Christian was elected mayor of St. Moritz (in 2019 – BT).”

“I’m approaching my eightieth birthday, but I’m happy continuing those occasional concerts every once in a while. Looking back on my career, I’m very happy with what has come my way. I never looked for challenges, they just crossed my path. I’ve always called myself a fully unambitious human being. I was just lucky with everything which offered itself. If I had to do it again, I would perhaps focus on one instrument and see how far I would get as a classical player, but on the other hand this would deprive me of the variation which I thought was so attractive. When people ask me which of all the instruments I play I love the most, I always say, ‘The one I’m playing right now.’ I’ve always loved to just play, no matter which genre or which instrument.”

Robert Weber (keyboards) and Bill von Arx (guitar) backing up Christian Jott Jenny

EUROVISION SONG CONTEST

In 1983, the Swiss pre-selection for the Eurovision Song Contest was won by Mariella Farré, the stage name of Gabriella Filomeno, a twenty-year-old singer of Italian descent who grew up in Schaffhausen. Her song ‘Io così non ci sto’ was a pop ballad, composed by Tommy Gonzenbach and Remo Kessler, with lyrics by Nella Martinetti. In the international Eurovision final in Munich, the orchestra was conducted by Robert Weber. However, as Weber explains, his involvement only started after ‘Io così non ci sto’ won the Swiss final.

“I had never heard of Mariella Farré before and the song selection in Switzerland went on without me having anything to do with it. Remo Kessler was a guy from the dialect rock scene here in the German speaking part of Switzerland. It was a corner of the music world with which I had very little involvement – apart from the occasional studio session, when I was asked to play the accordion in some dialect rock song. I vaguely knew Remo’s name, possibly because he was in the same band as Felix Müller, a bass player from my hometown of Wetzikon. At some point, Remo Kessler and the other songwriter approached me, asking me if I could write strings to their Eurovision song and conduct my own score at the contest in Munich. They needed somebody to help them in this Eurovision project. Of course, I knew how to write strings, so I took on the job – and that’s what it was, a job like many others.”

To get a little more context about the origin of the song and its arrangement, we approached one of the songwriters of ‘Io così non ci sto’, Remo Kessler. When asked about his partnership with Tommy Gonzenbach, he explains, “Tommy and I were in the same bands, first in Fairytale and later in Trampolin, which was a rock group. Later, Tommy abandoned his place at the drumkit in our band for a job at record company CBS, with him securing Trampolin a record deal. Now and then, Tommy and I sat together to try and write Italo hits, a genre which was popular at the time. It was nothing really serious or professional; we were really doing it on a whim. We were surprised when we actually achieved something with ‘Io così non ci sto’. We wrote the melody first. Then CBS contacted Nella Martinetti to write Italian lyrics to it. Mariella Farré had been a discovery of Tommy’s and he decided to give the song to her. Submitting the song to the Eurovision selection in Switzerland was the next thing which we did on a whim! All the greater was our surprise when it actually won! We hadn’t been expecting anything.”

In the 1983 Swiss final, the DRS Big Band and its conductor Hans Moeckel were in the pit, playing the intro music as well as two superb instrumental arrangements in the interval between the songs and the voting, but all the competing songs were performed to a playback track pre-recorded under the supervision of the same Hans Moeckel. “We had submitted a demo which we had cobbled together at home,” Remo Kessler recalls. “The additional strings had to be recorded in the radio studios in Zurich shortly before the Swiss final. Who knows what kind of amateurish string arrangement Tommy and I had cobbled together? We were dilettantes in this field, just two rock musicians trying their luck as songwriters! The string section gathered in the studio had trouble playing a certain part of the score. Moeckel then flew into a paroxysm of rage, shouting, ‘For heaven’s sake, who on earth composes such crap?!’ He then hit the lectern on the conductor’s podium with his baton – but so violently, that the baton broke in two.”

Mariella Farré on the Eurovision stage in Munich

In spite of Hans Moeckel’s slight reservations about the arrangement, ‘Io così non ci sto’ won the Swiss pre-selection in Zurich, thus earning the ticket to the international final in Munich. “That’s when we realised we needed someone to write a proper orchestration,” Kessler adds. “We made a recording with synthetic instruments, which was released as a single by CBS, but Eurovision had to be done with an orchestra. Robert Weber was suggested to us as arranger and conductor by someone at CBS. He then rewrote the string arrangement for Mariella’s performance in Munich. Tommy and I didn’t have a clue about music notation, but we had complete confidence in Robert Weber. Working with him proved easy and professional.”

When asked about the orchestration he wrote, Weber explains, “Tommy Gonzenbach and Remo Kessler passed me the rhythm track which they had prepared in the studio. This track was also used in Munich. So the rhythm players which you can see behind Mariella on the Eurovision stage were miming their instruments. Tommy and Remo gave me complete freedom to write the string arrangement as I saw fit. I never asked myself if the song benefited from an orchestration. In those days, the orchestra was just part and parcel of the Eurovision Song Contest. There was never a discussion about performing the song completely live. From the point of view of a sound engineer, it’s much more convenient to work with pre-recorded tracks. Because Eurovision allowed the use of such tracks, it was the easiest option. My arrangement consisted of nothing more than just strings and a tiny bit of additional percussion.”

When asked about his opinion of the song itself, Weber replies, “Well, I’m quite neutral on that matter. It was ok. To my mind, it wasn’t really a song which could have been put on the repertoire of an Italo star like Gianna Nannini, simply because its style was too similar to a German Schlager for that. But in that specific genre, I would say it worked well. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“I was certainly looking forward to going to Eurovision. In the course of my career, I did just about everything, ranging from the local music chapel in my hometown to the opera house. I always loved new experiences, new challenges, and conducting in Eurovision was something I hadn’t done before. I had never thought I would be taking part in it myself. I had never submitted a song to the Swiss Eurovision committee, simply because I never had the ambition to make my mark as a songwriter. There were so many who wrote a tune, recorded it, and then had to suffer the disappointment of noting that nobody liked their creation. It just wasn’t for me. I wrote a lot of jingles as well as music for radio plays, but that’s really a different kind of composing.”

Mariella Farré (to the right) and the Netherlands’ candidate in Munich, Bernadette, posing for press photographers near the Rudi-Sedlmayer-Halle, the venue of the 1983 Eurovision Song Contest

“Of course, I had often watched Eurovision. In the early days, it was still a competition between composers and the song was at the centre of attention. The longtime commentator for Switzerland in the Eurovision Song Contest was Theodor Haller – and he had really witty remarks in between the songs, which made it all the more entertaining to watch.”

“At the first orchestral rehearsal in Munich, I noted a couple of familiar faces in the pit. This was the big band of Dieter Reith and he worked with some German musicians who also came down to Zurich now and again to do replacement jobs at the DRS Big Band, which I worked with regularly at the time as a musician and arranger. It was nice meeting them on their home ground now. Dieter Reith himself was a big star in the world of television in Germany at the time. You could see him in a TV show practically every week. I exchanged some niceties with him, but nothing beyond the superficial.”

“I wasn’t nervous about having to conduct an orchestra. I had done so many times before in the recording studio. I could rely on a secure sense of timing, which has always helped me. I would never speak of myself as a conductor. To me, a conductor is somebody able to conduct a classical orchestra, which is something in a different league than recording your arrangements with a group of studio musicians. The ones expecting to have a conductor in front of them are string players. Brass and rhythm musicians usually look at their bandleader only at the start and the end of a piece of music. In between, they are used to finding their own way. With big band music, the role of the bandleader, or kapellmeister, to use the old-fashioned term, is mainly in rehearsals. During a concert, seasoned entertainment musicians know what to do on their own. String players, on the other hand, want someone to give them a sign to start playing after eight bars. They come from a classical background and that’s what they’re used to.”

“Having worked as a studio musician with various bandleaders, I had of course understood what players expected from a conductor. Hans Moeckel was my main role model in this respect. Having said that, the arrangement I brought to Munich was so small that it could have been performed without me giving signs. I was there because it was a tradition to have a conductor for each song – but it would be nonsense to say that you required conducting technique for that.”

“That doesn’t imply that I came to Munich without preparation. I had written the orchestration completely by hand – not just the lead sheet, but also the parts for all individual players. I had been my own copyist! Before sending the arrangement to Germany, I had checked closely to see if there were any mistakes in the transcription. Being an experienced studio musician, I knew how important it was to avoid wasting time on wrong notes in music scores during a session. Other than being well-prepared, my main weapon has always been to steer clear of authoritarian behaviour. I don’t like being bossy. It’s just not part of my character. If you keep a low profile while making sure that you know what you’re doing, musicians will invariably respond well. You just have to let them play and get on with things. In Munich, there weren’t any problems during rehearsals. The orchestration sounded fine from the start.”

Page dedicated to Robert Weber in the official 1983 Eurovision Song Contest programme

“The Swiss delegation in Munich was a happy bunch. I remember that television official Marco Stöckli was there as well as lyricist Nella Martinetti. I knew her well, because I had worked with her in the past. I accompanied her with a trio in the Bernhard Theater in Zurich, when she performed a revue programme of songs from the Canton of Ticino. We even recorded an album with her and the Renato Bui Orchestra, a band in which I also played at that time, in the mid-1970s. Nella was really popular with that Italian folk repertoire. Originally, Nella was a kindergarten teacher, but she was a woman with a genuine talent to entertain people. She absolutely loved being on stage. I got to know her quite well during our time working together – a very nice colleague. Nella Martinetti had a wonderful talent as a lyricist in various languages. Some years after our mutual Eurovision experience, she wrote the lyrics to Céline Dion’s winning Eurovision song.”

“Nella was fun to be around, very witty and entertaining. She was the life and soul of the party in our delegation in Munich. I remember inviting her and a couple of others from our group to my hotel room for a drink and a laugh. Tommy and Remo were very nice guys as well, although I was a bit less close with them than with the others, simply because I had never worked with them before. Having said that, my working relationship with them was cordial and I had the impression that they were happy with my contribution. Unfortunately, I didn’t really get to meet delegates from other countries. The Swiss group stuck together closely and I cannot recall hanging out with people from elsewhere in Europe.”

“The organisation in Munich was just fine. The one small hiccup we were faced with were the nerves of our singer, Mariella. During the week of preparations, she had behaved as if she was completely cool with the situation. ‘Don’t you worry about me, this is no big deal,’ that type of behaviour. It was almost a bit too much. But twenty minutes before she had to go on stage on the night of the show, she had become so nervous that her voice was gone. She couldn’t even speak. At that point, she was taken to a doctor backstage. I was told she was given an injection which helped her nerves to calm down a bit. Bear in mind that she was still a very inexperienced artist in those years, so she can be forgiven for feeling so uptight. At the time, I couldn’t do anything to help her. I just focused on my part of the job, which was with the orchestra.”

In a 2018 interview on SRF Radio, Mariella Farré confirmed that she was not at ease during her performance in Munich. “My manager wanted me to sing like Gianna Nannini, with a bit of a raspy voice. At the end of the rehearsals, I had no voice left. Shortly before the performance I passed out, only to get back to my senses shortly before I had to go on stage. That was heavy. I wasn’t sure if my voice would be able to be heard at all.”

Nella Martinetti’s 1977 solo album ‘Ticino mio’, backed up by the Renato Bui Orchestra, which included Robert Weber

Songwriter Remo Kessler recalls the nervous breakdown of the inexperienced singer as well. “Mariella became more and more throaty as the day of the final approached. She had been ruining her voice. On the day of the final, she could hardly speak, let alone sing. An emergency doctor then gave her a cortisone shot in the neck! Given the difficult circumstances, I think she gave a super performance.”

In the voting, Mariella Farré was awarded with seven points each from Italy and Yugoslavia, but, in the end, the Swiss entry gathered only 28 votes and finished in a meagre fifteenth place in a field of twenty contestants. “Any participant in such a competition is in it because he is expecting a good result,” Robert Weber comments, “but I knew we wouldn’t win. The song wasn’t bad, but it didn’t have enough international appeal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy writing a composition which transcends the confines of your own country. It’s really difficult to anticipate what kind of song audiences will fall for. There must have been an element of disappointment in the Swiss contingent, but count me out! My assignment had been to make sure the musicians in the orchestra would play the score well. I did what I had to do and the rest was none of my business. Bear in mind that I was a freelancer. To me, this was just another way of earning an income. I took any job that came along.”

As co-composer Remo Kessler recalls, he and his fellow-songwriter Tommy Gonzenbach took the result lightly as well. “We weren’t really expecting anything more than this. The only person who was very disappointed by the result was Nella Martinetti. Somehow, she must have had high hopes. When the voting was over, she just said, ‘Jetzt gehen wir halt saufen!’ (or, in English, ‘Now let’s get out of here and get drunk!’)”

After Eurovision 1983, Robert Weber never worked with Mariella Farré again. “I don’t think I have ever met her after the event. Generally speaking, I was happy to be part of the contest in Munich, but the event as such didn’t really leave much of an impression. It was interesting to note, certainly at the time but even to this day, that people in the street occasionally stop to tell me they remember me from the Eurovision Song Contest. ‘You were there in Munich!’ I think that is really astonishing, because I consider it as a footnote in my life as a musician. My professional career didn’t change as a result. I continued doing the same kind of work as before.”

Mariella Farré with part of her backing group on stage in Munich

“Maybe the experience in Munich didn’t leave a deep impression, because I took part as a conductor in another festival around the same time – an event which I thought was of an artistically higher level, the Seoul Song Festival in South Korea. I was even in it two consecutive times, in 1982 and in 1983. The first time was with a song composed by Willy Viteka, a producer with whom I worked quite a lot at the time. The title was ‘One Of Us’ and it was interpreted by Viteka’s wife, Olivia Gray. I wrote the complete orchestral arrangement for that song at the request of Willy Viteka. Willy was friends with Mr Furrer, the agent in Zurich who was responsible for the Swiss entry in Korea every year. That’s how he earned the right to go to Korea with Olivia.”

“Contrary to Eurovision, all songs taking part in Korea were performed completely live by the orchestra. There were no backing tracks. It was an orchestra comparable to the Dieter Reith band in Munich, a rhythm group with brass and a large string section. This was probably the radio orchestra of South Korea’s broadcasting service. I had the impression that they were a standing orchestra, because the musicians were very well attuned to each other. I rehearsed with them with a professional translator at my side. Whenever I had something to say to the orchestra, she passed on my every word to the orchestra in the Korean language. It was a privilege working with this disciplined group of musicians.”

“Perhaps even more impressive was the premium level of the entries taking part. There were songs from countries from all continents, Greece, Brazil, the Philippines. I remember sitting in the auditorium watching some of the other rehearsals. When I heard the Philippine entry (‘Nothing I Want More’, a duet by Louie Reyes & Eugene Villaluz – BT), I was convinced it would win the competition. It was an excellent ballad in Las Vegas style; an incredible song really. After the rehearsal was over, I walked up to the guy who conducted it. As it turned out, he also was the songwriter; Jun Latonio, a well-known Philippine film composer. I told him bluntly, ‘You’re the winner!’, and the voting proved me right on the night of the concert. He was really grateful to me and he even invited me to come and visit him in Manila, which I did later that same year. Quite an adventure!”

“The year after, Herr Furrer chose a young girl singer, Manuela Felice, to represent Switzerland in Seoul. Somehow, Manuela’s management then picked a song written by me – a coincidence, because I didn’t compose that many pop songs. The lyrics were written by Adriana Husy, originally in German (‘Wir sind doch da’ – BT), but she rewrote the words in English for the festival in Seoul. To my surprise, we obtained a lavish budget to record the song in the studio of Hugo Strasser’s son Thomas in Munich. It was an expensive session with strings and a backing choir. The money was put at our disposal by Manuela Felice’s mother Claudia, who was a society figure in Switzerland back then. She had high hopes for Manuela and didn’t hold back when it came to investing large sums to further her daughter’s career.”

“Unfortunately, the mother came along to Seoul as well. During rehearsals, she interfered with absolutely everything. This ruined the atmosphere in our Swiss delegation. Others noticed as well. Ingrid Peters was also there, the German singer, and one day she told me at the breakfast buffet in the hotel, ‘Next time, you’d better leave that lovely lady at home.’ It was a pity, because Manuela had quite a good voice, but her mother really put too much pressure on her. No doubt, she had only the best of intentions, but, in the end, her interventions only harmed her daughter’s career.”

Conducting the orchestra for Manuela Felice at the 1983 Seoul Song Festival

“For that reason, I don’t have as good memories of the second time in Korea, although the event in itself was wonderful. It was a really big festival, broadcast live across China and other countries in the Far East. The number of television viewers was estimated at 650 million. While in Korea, I also learned to value the country and its inhabitants. The Koreans were a really welcoming people. Away from rehearsals, we were treated to displays of Korean traditional music as well as a trip to the demarcation line. Seoul was a city in rapid development at the time. There were construction sites everywhere. They were already in the process of building the metro lines, which had to be finished by the time of the 1988 Olympics.”

Coming back to the subject of Eurovision, Robert Weber had one more small involvement in the Swiss pre-selection for the contest, when he was commissioned to write the first arrangement for the eventual Swiss entry for the 1989 contest, ‘Viver senza tei’ by the Romansh-language quartet Furbaz. By then, Weber was working at DRS Radio in Zurich as an editor.

“The song ‘Viver senza tei’ had been picked for the Swiss final, but there was no backing track yet. There was no orchestra in the 1989 Swiss final and all entries were performed to playbacks. The arrangement had to be produced at short notice – and somehow the job landed on my table. I hurriedly wrote something, which was recorded the following day in the radio studios. The eventual record arrangement and the orchestration which were played in the Eurovision Song Contest were done by others (Georges Walther & Hardy Schneiders – BT). I rather liked Furbaz. The lady at the piano, Marie Louise Werth, is a classically educated musician and her songs are usually quite good. Now and again, I met Furbaz when I had to work up in Engadin in Graubünden, where they’re from, but this arrangement was the only professional involvement I ever had with them.”

“In retrospect, the Eurovision Song Contest was already in the process of changing at the time when I took part in 1983. Originally, all songs were performed live. The transitional moment in Eurovision was with ABBA (in 1974 – BT). Their winning song didn’t have the orchestral approach which had been usual until that time and the group performed it with a stage show and costumes which hadn’t featured in the contest before. Although it was different from everything which had come before them in Eurovision, ‘Waterloo’ was still a real song; in other words, a tune which bands and small orchestras could play in the dance hall circuit.”

“Sadly, the development didn’t halt there. We’re now left with songs which nobody could even attempt to play. There are no melodies to them. Admittedly, there are still exceptions to the rule. ‘Rise Like A Phoenix’ by Conchita Wurst was a fantastic ballad and his vocal performance was great. That was a song which could have worked well with an orchestra. On the other hand, I couldn’t really stomach the stage presentation. Why all this theatre around it? I’m not a fan of this focus on identity we’ve seen in recent years – and Eurovision seems to be about only that nowadays. Nemo, who won the contest for Switzerland, has an impressive head voice, but he won it on the back of the stories around his gender, something which he allegedly only invented mere months before the contest. It had the makings of a marketing concept. The song in itself was strong enough to make a good impression. It didn’t need that whole story around it. As it is now, I prefer not to watch Eurovision. You just don’t get good vibes watching it nowadays. With this weird show going on, the songs seem to have faded into the background. Why can’t it be more about music? Eurovision was invented to be about compositions. There’s still a way back, though. I’m convinced it can’t go on like this for much longer.”

Furbaz on the Eurovision stage in Lausanne (1989)

OTHER ARTISTS ABOUT ROBERT WEBER

So far, we have not gathered memories of other artists about working with Robert Weber.

EUROVISION INVOLVEMENT YEAR BY YEAR

1983 Munich

Country – Switzerland

Song title – “Io così non ci sto”

Rendition – Mariella Farré

Lyrics – Nella Martinetti

Composition – Tommy Gonzenbach / Remo Kessler

Studio arrangement – Tommy Gonzenbach / Remo Kessler

Live orchestration – Robert Weber

Conductor – Robert Weber

Score – 15th place (28 votes)

SOURCES & LINKS

• Bas Tukker did an interview with Robert Weber, subdivided into two sessions, December 2024
• Thanks to Remo Kessler for sharing with us his memories of his experience as a songwriter in the 1983 Eurovision Song Contest
• A playlist of Robert Weber’s music can be accessed by clicking this YouTube link
• Photos courtesy of Robert Weber, Bill Holland, and Ferry van der Zant
• Thanks to Michael Pelzel for bringing me in touch with Robert Weber
• Thanks to Mark Coupar for proofreading the manuscript