We experience the warmest day of the year in England - with heat deaths in the London Underground. David Gilmour's houseboat MS Astoria resembles an oven. Only the cabin at the bow has air conditioning, which is why it is reserved for the owner. He receives barefoot in a heavy leather armchair, slurps black coffee and has something surreal about him: his head looks almost huge, his bulky body is in black clothes that stand in sharp contrast to his snow-white wreath of hair. When the famous guitarist and singer speaks, one has the feeling of listening to a philosophy lecturer from Oxford. David Gilmour is an awe-inspiring and respectful appearance.

eclipsed: David, you made it clear in advance that questions about Pink Floyd are undesirable. Why is this so important to you?

There are few German cities for whom it would be a matter of course if three "newcomers" confessed their new home with an album title. In the Berlin crucible, however, this is a relatively normal process. "About ten years ago we moved to the capital from all over Germany because we simply wanted to get out of the province and Berlin appeared to us as our natural new territory," recalls Christoph Bartelt. "Here we found each other and developed something together. We are all fundamentally different, but that is normal in a city like Berlin. In this respect, I believe the city has left its mark on us. So it goes without saying that the album should be named after her."

"Only he who ate with the dead of the poppy, of theirs, will not lose the quietest note again." (Rainer Maria Rilke)

About one kilometre away from Levi's Stadium, deadheads have spread out with their vehicles, some of which are sloping at the top. This funny, peaceful audience between eight months and eighty years celebrates itself and the event on around fifty hectares between office buildings and industrial buildings. Around them are flying dealers with their creative, beautiful shops of all kinds draped. There are spontaneous performances and a lot of people who want to sell tickets after all. For the black market traders among them this will be an expensive lesson: bad business!

"It's twelve noon in London, seven a.m. in Philadelphia, and around the world it's time for: Live Aid." With this sentence, BBC presenter Richard Skinner opened the biggest, most ambitious, but - and more about that - unfortunately also the most ineffective charity event in the history of rock and pop music on July 13, 1985. Triggered by the famine in East African Ethiopia and inspired by the success of the charity single "Do They Know It's Chistmas?", Bob Geldof has launched a festival to shake the world up and generate as much money as possible. So the singer of the Boomtown Rats uses his contacts within the music world and has the rock promoters Harvey Goldsmith and Bill Graham organize two simultaneous concerts in London (Wembley Stadium) and Philadelphia (JFK Stadium), which - a real novelty - are broadcast worldwide on radio and television and flanked by events in South Africa, Germany, Japan and Australia. A global effort financed by multinational media conglomerates.

The 71-year-old Brit receives in the legendary Olympic Studios, which today are a mixture of cinema, café and private club. And he turns out to be a talkative, but certain interlocutor who pursues only one goal: to polish up the Zeppelin's reputation in the long term. Critical questions do not fit into the concept. But these are quite appropriate for the work of the years 1976 to 1979.

eclipsed: Jimmy, is it hard for you to talk about these albums, which stand for the end of the band or the way there?

Jimmy Page: I like to talk about it, even though a lot of crap happened back then. As much bad luck as we couldn't actually have a band. This started with Robert having this car accident on Rhodes, where he suffered a complicated fracture of his foot.

eclipsed: Who was supposedly so heavy that there was a danger that he would never be able to walk properly again?

It is noticeable that it is predominantly German artists with whom Bureau B cooperates. Buskies: "With the re-releases we concentrated on Germany. It's not a must. It turned out that way. Contacts are easier because we operate in this environment." The offer may serve a niche, but it has nevertheless expanded. Reihse: "The spectrum has grown. Roedelius, Qluster, Schnitzler, Asmus Tietchens, Pyrolator or the things from the Atatak label. I don't own more records from any other label."

A thoroughbred musician, a workhorse, a relaxed, likeable guy, a sensitive giant - that's how companions, friends and journalists remember Chris Squire. The co-founder of Yes was not only a formidable bassist, but also a great human being. Squire never let the rock star hang out. He was never dismissive, seldom in a bad mood. When it became known in May that he was suffering from leukaemia, recovery wishes trickled in from all sides and through all channels. But already on June 27 Squire succumbed to the disease at the age of 67.

Young's excitement on the new album is real. It recalls his commitment to movements like No Nukes in the late seventies or Farm Aid a decade later. On "The Monsanto Years" the old rocker rages against everything and everyone, is not afraid to name names. The most prominent are Monsanto and Starbucks. "Monsanto and Starbucks: Mothers want to know what they feed their children" is one of the words in the song "A Rock Star Bucks A Coffee Shop".