FEE – Notaufnahme 12" Vinyl LP Album

- The nervous NDW debut that gave German New Wave its edge

Album Front Cover Photo of FEE – Notaufnahme Visit: https://vinyl-records.nl/

FEE hit the early-’80s NDW nerve with "Notaufnahme": a debut that feels less like a polite first step and more like a band barging into the room, turning German New Wave from a trend into something with teeth and personality. The sound is brisk and wired—tight drums, knife-edge guitar, neon keyboards, and vocals that deliver lines like they’ve got somewhere better to be (which, frankly, is the whole NDW charm). Tracks like “Amerika” and “Mein Guru” snap with sly momentum, while “Overdrive” adds that extra bite that keeps the album from drifting into cute novelty. Producer Frank Mille keeps it lean and immediate, so the songs land right up front—no fog, no filler, just that sharp 1981 energy that still plays beautifully on an original pressing.

Table of Contents

"Notaufnahme" (1981) Album Description:

FEE’s "Notaufnahme" doesn’t stroll into the early-’80s NDW party with a polite handshake; it shoulders the door and starts talking fast. Two vocalists trading lines like they’re cutting each other off, guitar kept sharp instead of heroic, keyboards bright enough to feel slightly clinical, drums locked in with that anxious bounce NDW loved when it wasn’t busy pretending it didn’t care. It’s German New Wave with a pulse and a bit of a mean grin, recorded and mixed by people who understood that “clean” and “alive” aren’t the same thing.

West Germany, 1981: what the air felt like

West Germany in 1981 wasn’t a relaxed place to make pop music, even when the synths were smiling. The country had Cold War hardware in the headlines and a loud peace movement in the streets; that tension seeped into clubs and rehearsal rooms, where everything sounded a little tighter, a little more impatient, a little more “mach schneller.” NDW fed off that mood, part Spaß and part Krawall, with a stubborn refusal to do Anglo-American rock cosplay.

That matters here because "Notaufnahme" behaves like it knows time is limited. The grooves don’t lounge, they move. Even when the hooks are catchy, the delivery stays clipped and slightly skeptical, like the singer is already rolling their eyes at the next line.

Where it sits in NDW without getting precious about it

NDW had plenty of angles in 1981, from art-school sarcasm to hard-edged body music to radio-friendly bounce. FEE land in the lane where the band still sounds like a band, not a studio concept with rented hairstyles.

  • Compared with DAF, this is less mechanized and more conversational, more human breath between hits.
  • Compared with Fehlfarben, it’s more wired and punchy, less grey-sky post-punk drift.
  • Compared with Ideal, it’s less poised, more schraeg around the edges, like the songs were tested live and corrected on the fly.
  • Compared with Trio, it’s busier, with more moving parts and fewer blank stares.
  • Compared with Nena’s pop-facing side of the era, FEE keep the bite in the vowels.
What it sounds like when the needle drops

The attack is brisk and upfront, the kind of sound where the drums feel close enough to count the stick hits. Guitar doesn’t bloom; it cuts, then gets out of the way. Keyboards act like neon tubing in a stairwell, bright, narrow, and slightly cold, filling gaps without turning the whole room into fog.

The vocals are the tell: two voices, not harmonizing like a choir, more like a debate that refuses to become polite. That push-pull keeps the songs from turning into novelty, even when the titles flirt with it. NDW at its best always sounded like it was in a hurry to make its point and then disappear into the crowd.

"Overdrive" is the obvious jolt: it leans into speed and tension, the rhythm section pushing like it’s late for something. "Amerika" and "Mein Guru" snap with that sly momentum NDW used when it wanted to sound catchy and critical in the same breath.

Who actually made it sound like this

Frank Mille is credited as producer, and the record behaves like a producer record in the practical sense: lean balances, little patience for sludge, and a clear decision about what sits forward. Recorded at Mille Musikstudio, mixed at Studio Maschen in Maschen with Bernd Joost, the chain reads like people who cared about immediacy more than atmosphere. That’s not a philosophical stance; it’s a set of decisions that keep the rhythm section tight and the vocals right in front of you.

The credits also show a band that didn’t hide behind mystery. Names, roles, and track times are laid out like paperwork, which fits the NDW habit of acting casual while controlling the frame. It’s not romantic, but it’s honest.

The messy part: lyrics, provocation, and the misconception people cling to

No fake controversy is needed here; the printed lyrics already do enough damage on their own. "Amerika" contains offensive racial slurs on the inner sleeve, and anyone pretending it’s “just cheeky NDW satire” is working too hard to excuse it. Satire doesn’t get a free pass just because the tempo is bouncy.

The more useful way to read it is as a document of what some people thought they could get away with in 1981, especially when the scene rewarded shock and speed. That doesn’t make it admirable; it makes it revealing, and it’s worth saying out loud instead of polishing it into trivia.

A small, quiet anchor

Late night, small radio, the kind of signal that fades when a truck passes, this is exactly the sort of record that would make you sit up because the vocals sound like they’re talking at you, not performing for you. Next day, you’d find it in a shop bin under “NDW,” half the staff dismissing it, the other half smirking like they’d found a secret.

References

Album Key Details: Genre, Label, Format & Release Info

Music Genre:

NDW Neue Deutsche Welle / German New Wave

NDW, short for Neue Deutsche Welle, emerged in Germany around the turn of the 1980s as a sharp, local response to punk and new wave. It mixed angular guitars, cheap synthesizers, ironic lyrics, and a deliberate break from Anglo-American rock traditions, often sounding raw, playful, and slightly confrontational.

Label & Catalognr:

MARIFON – Cat#: 47999

Media Format:

Record Format: 12" LP Vinyl Stereo Gramophone Record
Total Weight: 230g

Release Details:

Release Date: 1981

Release Country: Made in Germany

Production & Recording Information:

Producers:
  • Frank Mille – Producer

    The guy steering the whole session, not just “present in the building.”

    Frank Mille, producer and the album’s main architect on the control-room side, shaping how "Notaufnahme" lands on vinyl through the choices that matter: takes, balances, and the overall sonic attitude. Production credit here isn’t decorative—this record’s tight NDW snap depends on disciplined decisions about what stays lean, what gets pushed forward, and what gets politely shown the door.

Sound & Recording Engineers:
  • Bernd Joost – Sound / Recording Engineer

    The ears behind the desk, making sure the band sounds like a band and not a rehearsal with receipts.

    Bernd Joost, responsible for capturing the performances cleanly and keeping the sound practical and punchy, so the record doesn’t drift into mushy “studio magic.” Engineering on this album means mic choices, levels, and keeping the vocals and rhythm section locked in place—exactly the kind of invisible craft that makes an early-’80s German New Wave LP feel direct, urgent, and properly finished.

Recording Location:

Mille Musikstudio

  • Mille Musikstudio – Recording Studio

    The room where these songs stopped being ideas and became grooves with consequences.

    Mille Musikstudio, the recording base for "FEE - Notaufnahme," where the core tracks were laid down and the album’s raw NDW personality was captured without sanding off the edges. A studio’s “contribution” is the combination of space, gear, and workflow—and this one clearly supported a sound that stays tight and immediate, with vocals and rhythm sitting up front instead of hiding in polite reverb.

Mixing Studio & Location:

Studio Maschen – Maschen

  • Studio Maschen – Mixing Studio

    The final bottling plant: levels, space, and that “this is the record” moment.

    Studio Maschen, credited as the place where the mix was done, turning the recorded parts into a coherent album that plays like one statement instead of a stack of separate songs. Mixing is where the album’s hierarchy gets decided—what’s loud, what’s dry, what’s sharp, what’s warm—and the end result here keeps the feel snappy and upfront, which is exactly what this kind of early NDW material needs to survive the needle-drop.

Band Members / Musicians:

Band Line-up:
  • Marlies Borcherding – Vocals

    The album’s most immediate woman fingerprint—cool, direct, and right in your face.

    Marlies Borcherding, the lead vocal presence anchoring "FEE - Notaufnahme," delivers the lines with that early-NDW mix of attitude and restraint—more pointed than pretty, more character than polish. The vocal phrasing keeps the songs moving and makes the hooks feel spoken-to-you rather than sung-at-you, and that sense of proximity is a big reason this record lands so sharply when the needle drops.

  • Thomas Ruhstorfer – Vocals

    The second voice that turns the songs into conversations instead of monologues.

    Thomas Ruhstorfer, sharing vocal duties on "FEE - Notaufnahme," adds contrast—another texture, another angle—so the album doesn’t become one long single-colour vocal performance. The interplay between voices strengthens the NDW feel, where delivery often matters as much as melody, and it helps the record keep its slightly crooked, witty edge without sounding like a one-trick act.

  • Andreas Becker – Guitar

    The guy with the knife-edge guitar lines—no arena heroics, just sharp intent.

    Andreas Becker, on guitar for this album, keeps the sound lean and angular, landing the kind of clipped rhythms and quick accents that suit German New Wave perfectly. The parts feel designed to punctuate the vocals and drive the groove rather than show off, which is exactly how "Notaufnahme" stays brisk and nervy instead of drifting into classic-rock comfort.

 
  • Gerhard Reulecke – Bass

    The engine room: steady hands, tight notes, zero drama.

    Gerhard Reulecke, playing bass on "FEE - Notaufnahme," provides the firm, forward push that keeps the album glued together from track to track. The bass doesn’t just follow—it steers the momentum, giving the songs that physical “walk” you expect from early ’80s new wave, where the low end is often the real hook hiding underneath the words.

  • Lothar Brandes – Keyboards

    The synth colour that stamps the record as NDW without smothering it.

    Lothar Brandes, handling keyboards on this album, brings in the synthetic edge—pads, stabs, and textures—that gives "Notaufnahme" its period-correct sheen and bite. The keyboard parts sit in the arrangement like neon tubing: outlining shapes, adding tension, and making the songs feel modern for 1981, while still leaving room for guitars and vocals to do the talking.

  • Reinhard Lewitzki – Drums

    The timekeeper who keeps the whole thing snapping forward instead of wobbling.

    Reinhard Lewitzki, on drums for "FEE - Notaufnahme," plays with restraint and purpose—tight patterns, clean hits, and a practical sense of pace that suits the album’s sharp songwriting. The drumming keeps the grooves disciplined and danceable without turning glossy, helping the record feel like a band performance captured on tape, not a studio construction project.

Complete Track-listing:

Tracklisting Side A:
  1. Amerika (2:57)
  2. Mein Guru (3:07)
  3. Kauf Mir Lieber 'ne Blonde Gummipuppe (1:52)
  4. Kein Verkehr (3:08)
  5. Mach Dich Lieber Anders Als Tot (3:37)
  6. Eines Tages Auf Dem Elektrischen Stuhl (2:28)
Video: Fee - Mach dich lieber anders tot
Tracklisting Side B:
  1. Du Machst Mich Krank (2:27)
  2. Der Inder (3:40)
  3. Du Bist Mein Typ (3:02)
  4. Overdrive (3:43)
  5. Ich Muß Hier 'raus (2:36)
  6. Coole Beziehung (3:01)
Video: Fee - Overdrive

Disclaimer: Track durations shown are approximate and may vary slightly between different country editions or reissues. Variations can result from alternate masterings, pressing plant differences, or regional production adjustments.

Album Front Cover Photo
Front cover of FEE – Notaufnahme vinyl LP showing a blue-toned photographic collage: band members staged around a large concrete hospital pillar, a woman in a nurse outfit glowing white at center, red cross on cap, distressed expressions, Marifon-era NDW aesthetic, half-speed mastering banner along top edge, visible aging and print grain typical of early-1980s German vinyl sleeves.

Halfway out of the jacket, the first thing that hits is the blue. Not a clean blue, but that slightly sickly, over-inked early-’80s blue that always looks colder under a desk lamp than it probably did on the designer’s light table. The sleeve stock is thin but stubborn, the kind that creases rather than tears, with a faint ripple along the opening edge where it’s been slid in and out more times than anyone would admit. There’s no lamination here, so the ink sits right on the cardboard, which means the darker areas have soaked in unevenly and picked up that matte chalkiness collectors learn to recognize by touch alone.

The typography behaves itself just enough to avoid trouble. “FEE” sits up top in blocky red, slightly misaligned if you stare too long, with the white “Notaufnahme” scrawled underneath like it didn’t quite trust the printer to keep things straight. The red cross motif bleeds a hair into the surrounding blue, a printing quirk rather than a design flourish, and once noticed it’s hard to unsee. Along the very top edge runs the “Original Master Sound / Half Speed Mastering” banner, repeated like a nervous tic, cropped just close enough to the edge that shelf wear almost always nicks it first.

The photo itself feels aggressively staged and yet oddly careless. Band members are frozen mid-gesture around a massive concrete pillar, their poses theatrical but their shoes already scuffed in a way that wasn’t faked for the camera. The central figure in a nurse outfit glows unnaturally white, the contrast pushed so hard that facial details flatten out, an effect that has aged into something more eerie than stylish. A faint pressure mark arcs across the right side, likely from years stored tight against neighboring sleeves, and there’s the ghost of a removed price sticker near the corner, just enough residue to catch dust. Nothing here feels precious, which is exactly why it still works.

Album Back Cover Photo
Back cover of FEE – Notaufnahme vinyl LP showing full band portrait under studio lighting, complete tracklisting for Side One and Side Two, personnel credits in German, Marifon label and stereo catalog information, visible wear, edge scuffing, and aging typical of an early-1980s German NDW sleeve.

Flipped over in the hand, the mood changes immediately. The blue theatrics of the front give way to a darker, flatter black background that shows every fingerprint, scuff, and faint sleeve rub it’s picked up over the decades. The cardboard here feels slightly softer, almost fatigued, and along the bottom edge there’s the familiar whitening that comes from being slid in and out of shelves too tight for comfort. Light catches tiny pressure dents near the center, probably from years stacked under other LPs, the kind of marks no reissue ever bothers to recreate.

The band portrait dominates the space and doesn’t pretend to be casual. Faces are pushed forward under hard studio light, eyes locked straight at the viewer, some of them daring you to blink first. Skin tones lean warm against the black, a sign the ink density was pushed to compensate, and it’s aged unevenly—reds still punch, while lighter areas have dulled just enough to flatten depth. The nurse’s cap reappears at the edge, cropped tighter now, and the red cross has held up better than expected, suggesting thicker ink or a separate pass.

Text is packed in wherever it fits. Track listings for both sides run down the left in stark white, no frills, no spacing mercy, with timings squeezed close as if the typesetter was paid by the centimeter. The band lineup and credits sit centered, perfectly legible but never relaxed, while label logos and catalog information cling to the corners like afterthoughts that matter more to shops than fans. A faint ring mark ghosts the lower right, almost certainly from the record resting inside too long. Nothing here feels generous or elegant, but it feels used, handled, and unapologetically functional, which somehow suits the record better than polish ever could.

First Photo of Custom Inner Sleeve
Lyrics inner sleeve of FEE – Notaufnahme vinyl LP showing dense German song texts for Side One and Side Two printed in black on white paper, minimal layout, visible paper aging, slight discoloration, handling marks, and light edge wear typical of early-1980s inner sleeves.

Pulled halfway from the jacket, this inner sleeve feels thinner than you’d like, the kind of paper that already knew in 1981 it wouldn’t survive decades of careless handling. The white isn’t really white anymore; it’s gone a touch creamy, with uneven toning that shows where fingers rested longest. Along the edges there’s faint softening, not quite tears, more like the paper has learned to give up quietly. Under angled light, shallow ripples appear, the sort left by humidity rather than abuse, and they break the surface just enough to remind you this was never meant to be archival.

The text blocks run hard and tight, stacked with very little mercy. Song titles sit like blunt headings, followed by dense columns of lyrics that don’t breathe or flirt with design at all. Fonts are functional, almost stubbornly so, and the spacing feels dictated by necessity rather than taste. Lines don’t always align perfectly, and that mild inconsistency is oddly comforting, proof that this wasn’t fussed over endlessly. A couple of ink areas look slightly heavier than others, as if the press hesitated mid-run, leaving darker impressions that only show up once you stop treating it like a flat object.

Handling marks tell the real story. There’s a faint circular pressure shadow where the record once pressed from behind, and a couple of barely-there smudges near the margins that suggest someone followed the lyrics with a finger, maybe more than once. This sleeve isn’t decorative; it’s utilitarian to the point of irritation, but that honesty works. Nothing here tries to sell you the band. It assumes you already bought the record and just want the words, fast, clear, and without ceremony.

Second Photo of Custom Inner Sleeve
Second lyrics inner sleeve of FEE – Notaufnahme vinyl LP showing German song texts for Side Two printed in black on white paper, tightly set columns, minimal graphic elements, visible paper aging, light discoloration, pressure marks from the record, and handling wear consistent with early-1980s NDW releases.

Flipped over, this second side of the inner sleeve feels even more worked than the first, as if it spent more time exposed before someone bothered to slide it back into the jacket. The paper shows a faint grey cast along the edges, not dirt exactly, more the slow dulling that comes from air and years rather than abuse. Under angled light, shallow impressions appear where the vinyl once rested too long, leaving a soft circular memory that never quite goes away. Corners are still intact, but they’ve lost their snap, rounding slightly in a way that only happens after decades of casual handling.

The layout remains brutally practical. Columns of lyrics march down the page with little concern for comfort, broken only by thin horizontal rules and song titles that barely bother to announce themselves. Type weight varies just enough to notice, suggesting a press run that wasn’t fussed over once it passed inspection. Some lines look marginally darker, as if the ink caught better there, and those uneven densities give the page a faintly restless look when you stare too long.

What nags a little is how unforgiving it all feels. There’s no white space to rest your eyes, no design gesture trying to soften the blow. This sleeve assumes you’re already invested and simply need the words, preferably without ceremony. A few faint fingertip smudges near the margins hint that someone followed along while the record played, maybe trying to keep up with lyrics that don’t exactly slow down to help. It’s not pretty, but it’s honest, and that bluntness suits the record far better than any decorative flourish would have.

Close up of Side One record’s label
Close-up of Side One vinyl record label for FEE – Notaufnahme on Marifon, bright yellow label with black print, catalog number 47 999, stereo marking, GEMA box, LC code, track listing for Side One, visible spindle wear, light scuffing, and groove reflection from early-1980s German pressing.

Held flat under a desk lamp, the yellow Marifon label jumps out immediately, almost louder than the music ever could. The color is unapologetic, dense ink laid down thick enough that it still looks confident decades later, though not without flaws. Around the spindle hole, the paper shows faint grey bruising where the record has been mounted and removed countless times, the kind of wear that only comes from use rather than neglect. The hole itself isn’t perfectly clean anymore; its edge has softened slightly, a quiet admission that this side got played.

The typography is pure utility. “marifon” sits heavy and centered at the top, boxed in a way that feels more industrial than stylish. Below it, the layout becomes almost bureaucratic: STEREO, catalog number 47 999, GEMA, LC code, all arranged in little rectangles like stamped approvals on a form. Track titles are set small and tight, with durations tucked in close, and the alignment isn’t flawless—some lines sit a hair higher or darker, as if the press run didn’t bother correcting minor inconsistencies.

Under angled light, shallow sleeve scuffs and fine hairlines arc across the black vinyl outside the label, catching reflections that the camera never quite tells the truth about. There’s nothing precious here. This label was made to be read quickly while a record spins, not admired. That blunt honesty suits the album. It doesn’t charm; it informs, and if the yellow feels slightly aggressive against the black vinyl, that irritation feels entirely appropriate.

Side Two Close up of record’s label
Close-up of Side Two vinyl record label for FEE – Notaufnahme on Marifon, marked with side number 2 and matrix S 47 999 B, displaying Side Two track list including “Du machst mich krank,” “Der Inder,” “Du bist mein Typ,” “Overdrive,” “Ich muß hier ’raus,” and “Coole Beziehung,” with similar spindle wear but slightly lighter play marks than Side One.

The immediate tell is the large 2 in the left-hand box and the suffix changing to S 47 999 B, quietly confirming this as the second half of the album rather than a duplicate press. The track list shifts accordingly, with titles stacked tighter and the longer Side Two running times pulling the text block a little lower, making the layout feel marginally more compressed than on Side One.

Spindle wear is present but less bruised here, suggesting this side saw fewer repeat plays, and the paper around the hole looks slightly cleaner, with fewer grey fingerprints worked into the yellow. The vinyl surface outside the label shows finer, more uniform hairlines, the kind that come from careful cueing rather than impatient drops.

One extra detail sneaks in at the credits line, where Frank Mille is explicitly added to the songwriting list with an asterisk, a small but telling difference that only appears on this side. Everything else stays stubbornly consistent, reinforcing that Marifon approach: same blunt typography, same industrial yellow, just the necessary information adjusted and nothing more.

All images on this site are photographed directly from the original vinyl LP covers and record labels in my collection. Earlier blank sleeves were not archived due to past storage limits, and Side Two labels are sometimes omitted when they contain no collector-relevant details. Photo quality varies because the images were taken over several decades with different cameras. You may use these images for personal or non-commercial purposes if you include a link to this site; commercial use requires my permission. Text on covers and labels has been transcribed using a free online OCR service.