Cologne-born Purple Schulz is an author, pop singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, radio presenter and a walking encyclopaedia of good music. The all-rounder, whose real name is Rüdiger, got his stage name in a music store in the city at the beginning of the 1970s.
Love is a complicated creature and can even cause conflicting emotions. That goes for relationships with other people – and with one’s hometown. The love affair between Cologne and Purple Schulz is complicated – like Schulz himself. He tells us of the extreme melancholy that often overcomes him when he’s walking through the streets of the city centre. “The Cologne of my childhood and teenage years,” he tells us, “is gone. Nothing’s like it used to be. Nowadays, the city finds itself in a similar state to the cathedral – constantly undergoing building work with no end in sight. I can’t see much that points to any sort of plan.”
Perhaps it’s more the streets that make Cologne a nice place to live. Like Schulze-Delitzsch-Straße in the Raderthal district or Nibelungensiedlung in the Mauenheim neighbourhood.
Purple Schulz
According to Schulz though, the thing that distinguishes your typical Cologne native from those of other German cities is that they’re still able to love their hometown despite it all. It’s not always easy to find the beauty in things though, he says. In fact, Cologne might not be the place for you if you’re looking for districts that are beautiful in the truest sense of the world. “Perhaps it’s more the streets that make Cologne a nice place to live,” he says. “Like Schulze-Delitzsch-Straße in the Raderthal district or Nibelungensiedlung in the Mauenheim neighbourhood.” And he should know becuase he’s certainly got around a bit in “his” city. “I grew up in the shadow of the cathedral’s spires, in the Gereonsviertel neighbourhood. And I’ve lived in many different districts – Rodenkirchen, Bayenthal, Ehrenfeld and Eigelstein to name but a few.
And Siebengebirgsallee in the neighbourhood of Klettenberg was by far the loveliest street of them all.” Lots of people would point to what are, in their opinion, a number of lovely squares but Schulz disagrees. “This city doesn’t have any nice squares on offer, unfortunately. But it doesn’t stop me sipping on an espresso on Wallrafplatz square when I’m in Cologne. There’s something appeasing about it,” he tells us.
Although he takes a mostly critical view of his home city, he does feel he should acknowledge the omnipresent role of music (along with beer and the cathedral) . According to Schulz, “No other German city has inspired so many anthems that combine a declaration of love with a highly critical stance on these developments.”
Today, Schulz lives and works with his wife just outside the city. “Our view stretches from the Düsseldorf television tower to the cathedral to the Siebengebirge mountains. So we can always see Cologne. It might sound crazy but I’d miss those two towers if they weren’t there,” he says. He sees them every day when he’s walking the dog too. “And then I realise I actually quite like this city – from a distance.”
Rüdiger Schulz aka Purple Schulz
And he does have a lot to thank the Cologne of his childhood and teenager years for, after all. In particular, of course, the nickname-cum-stage name he’s had for five decades now. It comes from when he used to be a regular visitor to a music store run by the Weber bothers. The young Rüdiger was forever “having a go on” the Hammond organs at “Music City” (which were far too expensive for his pocket). As his go-to tune was Deep Purple’s “Child in Time”, the irritated sales staff christened him “Purple”.
But Schulz wasn’t just a regular at the Webers’ organ shop – he was often to be found in their main store on Ebertplatz square too. “In the early 70s, they still sold records as well as instruments. I bought my first album there, for instance, by ‘The Nice’,” he tells us. When the Saturn electronics store opened later on, the Webers stopped selling records. “And when people started buying more and more musical instruments from huge mail-order firms, the Weber brothers had to give up their business entirely. I thought it was a huge loss back then and I still do now.”
Tears, lattes and five kinds of milk
Even though a lot of the nice places of his teenage years don’t exist anymore, Schulz feels there are still a few you can visit anytime to turn a day in Cologne into a real experience. “I don’t do clubs,” he says. “But the cathedral is definitely worth a visit. Once when I was there with a friend there was a young Canadian choir singing. It was a rehearsal, not a concert. It was so beautiful that it brought tears to our eyes.”
But there are other places where friends looking for good music will find what they’re after. “For example, there’s a tiny concert hall at Wohngemeinschaft on Richard-Wagner-Straße. It’s a bar, bistro, hotel and event venue rolled into one, with a mainly young clientele. They sometimes have gigs by excellent artists who’re still relatively unknown.” According to Schulz, it only holds just under 50 people but if you’re lucky you might be there to witness the birth of some really great acts. “You do, however, have to put up with them offering you five different types of milk when you order a latte – four of which aren’t actually milk at all,” he says with a laugh.
(Re-)discovering, developing and evolving
Discovering new things and constantly evolving is Schulz’s own credo in life too. “I went through a period of major development a few years ago when I started learning a new instrument, one that nobody performs on yet in Germany. It’s called a ‘harpejji’ and it’s a 16-string instrument for pianists that enables me to re-discover my old songs.” He feels that’s particularly important if, like him, you’ve written loads of hits over the years because then there’s always a risk of turning into your own cover band. “But I want to carry on evolving. In 2024, I’ll be on the road with Jördis Tielsch, who’ll be accompanying me on the violin, piano, guitar and, mainly, vocals. She’s a sensational artist,” he says.
Since deciding to focus on performing as part of a duo, he now has the space to do what he really wants on stage – to sing songs that open up new perspectives. To his mind, that might not earn you a place in the feature section but it does earn you a place in people’s hearts. Another ambition of Purple Schulz’s has to do with the “Songpoeten” radio format that he takes turns presenting with Wolfgang Niedecken, frontman of Cologne cult band Bap. Schulz would love to do a series of interviews with German artists about the future of songwriting. “I’ve got a lot of questions – and, thanks to this whole wokeness debate – a lot of outrage. But perhaps we should forget about the debates and just write songs. Someone somewhere will always be offended anyway,” he says with a chuckle.
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