#greenwoods

Colin and Jonny Greenwood are sitting knee to knee in the corner of the sofa in their hotel room in Cologne. When I enter, their conversation is about David Fincher's "Fight Club". Two minutes later, Colin is sitting opposite me. If it weren't for the coffee table between us, we would not only be talking eye to eye, but also knee to knee. Jonny sits to my left, pressed into the cushions, his head bowed, his hair in his face. His brother talks for him: "Jonny is interested in this, Jonny means that". Occasionally he follows up, then the two look at each other. Grin. Become that strange, slate-toothed, telepathic unit again. Make brother jokes. When Jonny talks to me, he keeps his head down, or turns it away, mumbles into the corner of the room. Jonny only talks about his music but he would obviously rather let music speak for itself. When I tell him about music and what kind of records you can get there, when names like Harvest, Sonig and Entepfuhl come up, he brushes his hair out of his face. Only when I mention Holger Czukay and that I meet him occasionally when shopping in the supermarket does he look at me with wide eyes.