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This time, the event went well without such commotion; instead, I arrived just in time for the beginning set of LULU & DIE EINHORNFARM. It started early; this was going to be a long evening with four bands. I've known Lulu since the beginning of her activities with THE TOTEN CRACKHUREN IM KOFFERRAUM, where she is the last remaining founding member as "Luise Fuckface". With the Einhornfarm, she has a punk band, and I was curious to see what this would bring. Lulu herself stood out with her raunchy to idiotic lyrics. She radiated a lot of calmness, which is not a given in front of a large audience. A good entertainer, unfortunately not a singer, and so this performance was hardly bearable from a musical standpoint. Listening to unmelodic, crashing punk songs with monotonously shouted refrains about a certain penis (good) or Germany (victim) can still rock as exhilarating trash for a few songs, but a few songs later it became very exhausting. Even the pornographic Santa Claus performer with his stage show couldn't save it. For me, it was nothing that could excite me at that moment; maybe it would work better with more alcohol and in a correspondingly rowdy mood.
A short changeover, just long enough for either fresh air or fresh smoke, before the choice Berliners from RADIO HAVANA were up. All the bands that evening differed significantly in style, which kept boredom at bay, and the second band delivered a hefty dose of political punk rock in German. The music was clearly influenced by American counterparts, with plenty of melody and a touch of hardcore. Occasional excursions into rock ballad territory were quite successful, but not as much to my taste as the interspersed thrash influences. RADIO HAVANA mastered their instruments; precise interplay and well-coordinated background vocals contributed to giving the versatile set the necessary energy. Occasional covers ensured that the party atmosphere was not lacking, despite all the pathos. Because I naturally like to complain, I must point out that the band, dressed entirely in black and with an indecisive semi-mohawk, looked rather unremarkable. And while the show was skillful, it ultimately felt rehearsed, causing the rockstar gestures to lose their captivating effect. For me, there was a certain something missing that makes this band special compared to dozens of others that serve this genre. So, despite contrary lyrics, it was not revolutionary music, but certainly a good concert. Regarding the critical and engaged song lyrics and announcements, I would like to remind you that German punk is known to be the CNN of Germans. And just like that channel, it has completely fallen behind when I want to inform myself about politics and world events in the age of the World Wide Web. But since such messages from bands interested me as a young person, it may be that others can be more enthusiastic about it. Better than being apolitical while having a right-wing bias. And the music was right; that was the most important thing.
Then finally, after years, THE TOTEN CRACKHUREN IM KOFFERRAUM. I have experienced them in the past as the punkiest crew around, in the way they joyfully provoked and delighted in trashy pop, undermining the expectations of several sometimes stuck scenes. Since our last encounter, they had dabbled in the hip-hop milieu and gained a bit of fame on private television. But I had only heard about all this from my gossiping friends and was curious about TCHIK 2014. The music can roughly be placed in the Bermuda Triangle of Euro-dancefloor, punk, and pop. Then, during the show, no less than six Tchicas in party-appropriate outfits came on stage and danced, sang, and celebrated as if it were the last time. Also dressed as a Christmas tree, in your face, "Virgin Mary"! In the background, a three-piece basic punk rock band added extra power to the digital tracks.
Something strange happened during the concert. While at first, I felt like I was reliving the Rhineland carnival with all its silly joy, while I was still pondering what it was all about, the good mood radiating from this wall of hyperactive crack whores simply swept me away. It was just a huge party! I would never want to listen to this music on my player, as live is probably the only suitable form of presentation. The smart aleck in me would like to add that this catchy pop with its off-key singing and filthy lyrics is a poisoned apple, that the different and individual appearance of the TCHIK stands in contrast to the casted and characterless dance groups in the music business. Oh, oops. Now I've written it. The essence remains: the limit of good taste? Oh, absolutely. Punk? Maybe. Great party? You bet! They even got to blast "Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart" at me. Rating: Valuable!
Finally, it was time for the ever-popular TERRORGRUPPE, and not just because they were the last remaining band. Rather, I found the evening too long in its scope; three bands would have sufficed. Or 15 minutes less playing time per set, even if the individual performances were not boring in themselves. Accordingly, the headliners of the evening were eagerly awaited. That they can still rock the house was proven by their comeback this year with a subsequent tour, so this time it was particularly interesting for me compared to the first gig at SO36 in June. Nothing has changed in their stage presence and good tightness since then; rather, it was often noticeable that the series of joint performances had given the band the necessary routine back to perform as confidently as in the old days. Remember this, kids: the last concerts of a tour are often the best because the musicians have been able to heat up for months.
Essentially, one can say that this concert was similar to the reunion gigs, only better in almost every respect. Good interplay, mostly the same set, the rhythm section provided a reliable foundation over which the two showmen on guitars could let loose. Great light projections in the background: When the familiar gallows in Nazi flag design frames the stage action, and MC Motherfucker stands exactly where the unfortunately executed should be hanging, the eye enjoys just as much as with childhood and youth pictures of the band members. And singing against film clips of Leni Riefenstahl is anyway the wet dream of every rebellious entertainer. At this point, I also notice that for me, the music of TERRORGRUPPE definitely has a political component, but differently than (insert standard hardcore band), which increasingly addresses current debates. Rather, it takes the form of a basic attitude from which provocation and mockery are then directed in certain directions. The advantage is that songs generally last longer and can gain new relevance when referring to the petty Nazi of the day. Conversely, certain caricatures of public life in songs have a built-in expiration date. This was reflected in the song selection; Angela Merkel will best be banished to South Tyrol with Helmut Kohl after her term, but as long as Germany is a term, it will never be as important as MCs skateboard. And Johnny Bottrop's longboard.
Am I digressing? Indeed! The TERRORGRUPPE in their latest mutation increasingly utilized the fifth man on keys, cowbell, and saxophone to give particularly quieter pieces more fullness. This was especially evident in dub and ska when Eros Razorblade stepped to the edge of the stage with the trumpet, and the reinterpretation of "Arbeit sein muss bleibt" received a captivating tension arc. May I hope for the planned live presentation of the "Ultimate Love Song" soon? With the full blast of background vocals?
In the simpler punk pieces, however, an additional instrument is unnecessary, although it doesn't bother anyone (except the purists). Overall, I found the tempo of the songs sometimes a bit sluggish. This has been a development of TERRORGRUPPE over the last few albums, which surely makes sense, but ultimately I miss the tempo rush of the mid-nineties, when TERRORGRUPPE, while not obviously competing with the beats from California and Sweden, was still much faster. In pieces like "Tresenlied," it was noticeable that the slower playing style of the EP was chosen rather than the album version. In contrast, "Gestorben auf dem Weg zur Arbeit" or "Ich bin ein Punk" felt like speed metal.
The sound was quite full and mostly good; the audience sang along continuously, and now and then the "Wall of Sound" from the stage became a bit too dense for me, as you could hardly make out a melody, let alone vocals. Fortunately, this didn't happen too often.
It was striking that the band appeared relaxed and confident, the announcements spontaneous and unforced. When Johnny Bottrop bridged the time during technical problems with MC Motherfucker's guitar with improvised jokes, he seemed to amuse himself the most with the unexpected speaking time and his clumsy jokes. The main singer drew new momentum from the mishap to slam his aggro-pop scores at the audience. Overall, he often appeared again like a naughty boy who takes mischievous joy in shouting forbidden things and repeatedly encouraged the audience to silly choruses (“Yes, I fuck myself, I fuck!”). What I liked most about the evening: making it seem easy even when under the pressure of expectation to be the highlight under the Christmas tree – that's what makes a professional. And so this concert also became a great pleasure. Those who missed the TERRORGRUPPE in earlier times can confidently catch up, as the band still has a lot to offer. Not least a versatile catalog of good punk anthems, but above all, a joy in the matter that can be infectious.
Satisfied, my friends and I left the hall towards familial harmony.