Hol den Vorschlaghammer! [Get the sledgehammer!]
The Muse Letter No. 41
Sie haben uns ein Denkmal gebaut
Und jeder Vollidiot weiß, dass das die Liebe versaut
Ich werd die schlechtesten Sprayer dieser Stadt engagiern
Sie sollen nachts noch die Trümmer mit Parolen beschmieren.
[They have build a monument for us
And every moron knows, it’s the thing that ruins love
I will hire the worst graffiti sprayers of this city
At night they shall still write rallying cries all over its remains]*
*unauthorized translation that is hardly capturing the epicness of this song but for you to get the point
There seems to be roughly two categories of male singers in the rock scene of 2000-2009: men that shout at you in a deep growling voice and men that shout at you in a high pitched howling voice. Either way a lot of shouting is involved, is my conclusion after watching a best of “Rock am Ring part 1” video compilation (the German rock festival of the Y2K era) on YouTube the other day. A strange sense of nostalgia has led me here amidst the sweating crowds of teenage millennials. With their spaghetti tops and low cut jeans and a lot of questionable cultural appropriated clothing items. My body reacting to this sea of bodies with an amount of bliss as if I was somehow actually there, feeling someone pushing into my back with their shoulder, elbows touching, hands up in the air, part of something larger – Interestingly I have never been to Rock am Ring myself.