Mr. Pigor, what makes the fifties appealing? Weren't they a little bourgeois and mild compared to today?

Thomas Pigor That certainly held true for German living rooms. In Paris, on the other hand, there was a lot going on. The Nazi occupiers were gone, and the hunger for culture was great. The Americans had brought a new kind of jazz with them; for a time, stars like Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie and Sidney Bechet lived in Paris, where there was less racial discrimination than in the USA. They played in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, in the same basements where the existentialists sat. Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Juliette Gréco sang. What a scene! We'll revive that atmosphere a little.

How do existentialism and jazz line up?

Thomas Pigor They are related. Existentialism asserts that humans are radically free and create their own world. There are certainly parallels to jazz: the performer's freedom in improvisation and the responsibility toward the freedom of others. An instrumental solo is free, but not arbitrary. This evening, however, will not be a philosophical seminar! We'll bring fun and a sense of life. Singer Mathilde Vendramin performs cool songs by Michel Legrand, and guitarist Biréli Lagrène plays jazz by Django Reinhardt, who also lived in Paris at the time.

Was the music political, like existentialism?

Thomas Pigor It was the time of colonial wars, first in Indochina, followed by Algeria. Added to that was the fear of a nuclear war between the superpowers. The writer and musician Boris Vian, for example, was explicitly anti-militarist; one of his most famous songs is called "Le Déserteur." But Vian was also a mocker, socially critical, lashing out in all directions and not shying away from making fun of his own social circle. I'll be singing Vian's "Je suis snob," a subtle parody of the dandies of the 1950s. Today's snobs are certainly different—nouveau riche, less eccentric.

You yourself have been singing political songs for more than thirty years, primarily in the duo "Pigor singt. Benedikt Eichhorn muss begleiten." How alive is political music in Germany?

Thomas Pigor In the 1990s, pianist Benedikt Eichhorn and I developed our salon hip-hop style, a format that didn't exist in Germany. Lyrically driven, sophisticated, and at times quite jazzy. We wore 1960s suits and narrow ties, tried to appear wicked, and certainly took our cues from French chanson greats. Their penchant for wit, wordplay, and lightness remains both an inspiration and encouragement to this day. The German representatives of political jazz chanson, artists like Wolfgang Neuss, "Die Insulaner," Hanns Dieter Hüsch, or the Viennese group around Gerhard Bronner, rarely ventured beyond the cabaret scene. In France, Vian, Gréco and Gainsbourg are part of the "patrimoine," the national cultural heritage.

Can chanson change the world?

Thomas Pigor It can't even change opinions, I'm under no illusions about that. But you can confound people, spark debate or subversively present an unusual idea. And you can send an important message to the people sitting in the audience, who are laughing and applauding: You are not alone. Sitting together in a concert hall is more energising than sitting alone in front of a computer or television. That's why we do all this.

Interview conducted by Thomas Lindemann