"If you want to know about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface: of my paintings and films and me, and there I am. There is nothing behind it. “
Gretchen Berg, “ Andy: My true story,” Los Angeles free press, 17th March 1967.

Does it really matter that musically the history of Ellende can be traced back to around 1976, to some teenage tape experiments?

Ellende is misery, alienation and a love of droning.

At least one of us is a mathematician, as mathematics is the only pure art.  We are not intellectuals.

Ellende  is not a Dutchman in Tokyo, nor a Belgian in South Africa, nor a couple of Austrians in Kuala Lumpur. Even though there are Dutchmen and South Africans involved in Ellende, there was a Englishwoman and there might be an American in the future. Of the five two are dead, one died of old age, another by an old rope. Not that any of this matters, we are not musicians, we are Ellende.