Lied der Woche für Deutschlernen

[Chrisinom]

A thorough philological and didactic-methodological revision would be necessary for publication. I do not claim any copyright, anyone may make use of the texts as he or she wishes. The texts are for friends only and are intended to help learners of German.

[Chrisinom]

Klaus Lage: 1000 und 1 Nacht (Zoom!)

Lyrics: https://www.songtexte.com/songtext/klau ... 93bb7.html
The story of “1,000 und 1 Nacht” begins in 1983 in the land of tulips and windmills. Klaus Lage remembers: “We were rehearsing in Holland at the time. The parents of our bass player had a vacation home there and that's how the contact came about. We were able to practice in a community center on a green meadow between the cows - in the middle of nowhere. We could be really loud there and rehearse very intensively.” It was there, in the Dutch countryside, that the Klaus Lage Band came up with the idea for the song. Klaus Lage can't quite remember who came up with the band's striking title line. “But I think the magic word for the whole song was 'Zoom'! That's why we included it in the title. And 'Zoom!' is mine, that's quite clear! We used to use it as a gag word when we wanted to express a kind of speed, like in the comics. Then we would say 'Zoom!“ The song quickly achieved absolute cult status and is still a must at any boozy party.
The emotional song with its stirring lyrics has certainly brought together one or two couples who were previously reluctant to show their affection. Because the lyrics are also about falling in love, but not at first sight: Friends who have known and liked each other all their lives suddenly feel a strong attraction for each other, as the refrain makes very clear. And that changes everything. How do you deal with such feelings? A night spent indulging in their emotions puts their friendship at risk and the song leaves it open as to whether true love will result from the situation: „Alles war so vertraut und jetzt ist alles neu“ (Everything was so familiar and now everything is new). That's what makes the lyrics so exciting, because everyone can empathize with what it's like to be in the dark about a possible love affair. After all, you don't know how the other person feels about the situation.
The song is quite helpful because it shows how you can handle the past tenses in German in a colloquial context. When do you use the perfect tense and when do you use the past tense? First things first - from a grammatical point of view, it doesn't matter whether you use the perfect or the past tense. There is absolutely no difference or right or wrong between the sentences: “Ich lernte Deutsch” and “Ich habe Deutsch gelernt”. The difference is only in the communicative context - e.g. whether you are speaking or writing:
The past tense is used in a literary, official context. For example, in newspapers, in scientific papers, on television or on the radio, but also when you write an official email. However, if you are communicating with your friends in everyday life, the perfect tense is usually used. It doesn't matter whether you're writing an email or talking on the phone. If the communication is more casual, use the perfect tense.
To summarize - with the exception of a few verbs, the perfect tense is used almost exclusively in colloquial language. What are the exceptions? Germans very rarely use verbs such as „sein“, „haben“ and „werden“ as well as modal verbs (können, wollen, müssen, sollen, mögen/möchten*, dürfen) in the perfect tense. These verbs tend to be used in the past tense. With modal verbs, this is also much easier, because you have to use the infinitive and not the past participle to build the Pefekt: „Ich habe lernen müssen“ and not „Ich habe lernen gemusst“. Of course, if you use these modal verbs as full verbs, you use the regular pattern:“Das habe ich nicht gewollt.“ There are also some other special features of the perfect tense that can be explained using the refrain:
„(Wir haben uns) Tausendmal berührt“: The first problem is the separable and non-separable prefixes. Some verbs have a prefix that is placed in front of the word stem and can be separated from the verb when conjugating. Examples of prefixes with separable verbs are: an-, ab-, auf, her-, vor-. If you form the perfect tense from these verbs, you place the prefix before the ge- of the past participle. Some examples: an–ge-kommen, ab–ge-fahren, vor–ge-laufen, her–ge-kommen. There are also verbs with non-separable prefixes for which the perfect tense must therefore be formed differently. These are, for example, be-, ent-, er-, or miss-. Here, the ge- (the participle 2 ending) is simply omitted when forming the perfect tense: „berührt“.
The following Perfektform shows another exception: „Tausendmal ist nix passiert“. A special rule also applies to all verbs ending in -ieren. The participle 2 ending ge- is also almost always omitted here. Examples: massieren, spazieren, probieren, flanieren – and passieren. „Nix“ instead oft „nichts“ is colloquial.
Tausend und eine Nacht / Und es hat „Zoom“ gemacht. The language of fairy tales (1001 Nights) and comics (“Zoom”) emphasize the unusual nature of the event. The meaning of „zoom“ here could be best translated by the French „coup de foudre“. The meaning of “Zoom!” in the context of a love relationship probably goes back to this song - an example of how song lyrics can influence language (cf.
The first verse describes the immediate prehistory of the unexpected “Zoom!”. It may come as a surprise that Präteritum forms are used throughout the verse, with one exception. In the first line there’s the Präteritum of a modal verb „wolltest“: „Du wolltest dir nur den Abend vertreiben“. „Sich die Zeit vertreiben“ (to kill time) is a common phrase in German; there is also the noun „Zeitvertreib“, pastime. There’s another Präterizum in the next line, „riefst … an“. This can be explained by the requirements of rhythm and rhyme; overall, the past tense tends to be used more often with irregular verbs. „War’n“ and „wollten“ in line three follow the trend to use the Präteritum with auxiliary verbs, „dacht’“ in line four is another common irregular verb form.
Line 5 doesn’t have a past tense form but is interesting for the difference in the use of the German Perfekt and the English present perfect: „Wir kennen uns schon ewig“ – We have known each other forever“. In German (like in other langauges) you don’t use a past form for something that started in the past and continues in the present, but the present tense. There is one parallel in the use of the two languages with regard to the present perfect: It is used for something that happened in the past but is important in the present: „I can't get in the house. I've lost my keys.“ I wouldn’t say or write „Ich verlor meine Schlüssel“ but „Ich habe meine Schlüssel verloren.“
Line 6 has the only Perfekt form in the first verse: „Deine Eltern sind mit meinen damals Kegeln gefahr'n“ (Your parents went bowling with mine back then). Bowlers in Germany can be divided. into two groups. For the larger group, skittles is a leisure activity that is enjoyed in convivial company and can sometimes be a bit boozy. Skittles games are often turned into drinking games. There is a widespread custom of punishing bad throws with small fines that end up in the bowling fund. Once a year, the club then organizes an outing where there is also a lot of partying and drinking. Not least because of these rituals, bowling is considered by many to be bourgeois and stuffy. Nevertheless, the number of recreational bowlers is in the double-digit millions - albeit with a downward trend. The two past tense forms in line 7 („blieben“, „schliefst ein“) are also strong verb forms.
The second verse outlines the purely friendly relationship between the two lovers in the past. As expected, the perfect tense is used at the beginning and the past tense “was” for “sein”. “Ich wusst(e)” is the Präteritum of a frequently used irregular verb. In lines 5 and 6 the text changes to the present tense („… wir kenn'n uns zu lange / Als dass aus uns noch mal irgendwas wird) in order to depict the protagonist's incredulous thoughts about what has happened. A few remarks on the content amd language of the verse:
„Indianer spielen“ (line 1) would be considered politically incorrect today. In the 1980s, children and young people played this game with great fervor and without any malicious ulterior motives.
„Fasching“ (line 2): There are three different words for the carnival days: Fasching, Fastnacht (Fassenet or Fasnet), Karneval. None of the terms are wrong - but in some regions, especially in the carnival strongholds, you can put your foot in your mouth if you choose the wrong expression. In the Rhineland and in large parts of northern Germany, the majority speak of Karneval. Especially in the strongholds of Cologne and Düsseldorf, you should definitely talk about Karneval. In other regions, Fasching or Fastnacht is better understood. In the east of Germany and in Bavaria, the term “Fasching” is usually used when referring to the foolish festivities. In the southwest of Germany, the term “Fastnacht”, „Fassenet“ or “Fasnet” is used for the most part. This term is used on public holidays in most of Baden-Württemberg, Hesse, Rhineland-Palatinate and Saarland.
There are also some colloquial expressions in this verse: „Was war eigentlich los?“ (line 3) What was going on / happening. The „eigentlich“ is difficult to translate, it’s rather a filler here.
„,,, gar nix gecheckt“ (line 4). „Checken“ here is to understand, to get.
„… wir kenn'n uns zu lange / Als dass aus uns noch mal irgendwas wird“: This is not a colloquialism but a rather difficult conjunction. „Zu“ + adjective/adverb („zu lange“) followed by a subclause with the conjunction „als dass“ has a consecutive meaning. „Wir kennen uns zu lange, als dass aus uns noch … was wird“ is the same as „Wir kennen uns (so) lang, dass aus uns nichts werden kann.“ For other meanings oft „als dass“ and more examples, see https://deutschegrammatik20.de/komplexe ... -als-dass/
In line 8 there’s a Plusquamperfekt (past perfect) form. („hatte … betührt“) Its formation (past tense oft „haben“ or „sein“) and its use is the same as in English.
The third stanza presents the speaker's thoughts about the changed situation in the present.The use of Perfekt and Präteritum in the third verse corresponds to the rules for colloquial German. The Päteritum is used in „wusst(e)“, „warst / war“, „wollten“, otherwise we have the present perfect forms, some present forms and two Konjunktiv forms: „wär(e)“ and „hätt(e)“.
To summarize the use of the past tenses in the song, it can be said that what was presented at the beginning is confirmed. There are no fixed rules for the use of the two past tenses in a colloquial context, only tendencies: past tenses are used consistently with auxiliary verbs, and sometimes also with more or less frequently used irregular verbs. Where rhythm or rhyme require it, there is a flexible deviation.

[Chrisinom]

Matthias Reim: Verdammt ich lieb dich

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/Verdammt ... e-you.html
Pop song lyrics and sonnets have more in common than you might initially think: Both types of text are subject to relatively rigid rules - at least if you start from the prototypical text of a 2 to 5-minute pop song, in which three, or more rarely four, rhymed verses of eight lines each are followed by a refrain, which is repeated after the last verse. Of course, this form can be varied in details, for example the refrain can be preceded by a bridge or the first two verses can follow each other without a refrain. If these variations are taken into account, the majority of all pop song lyrics probably follow this pattern. Another thing that pop song lyrics and sonnets have in common is that they are associated with the theme of love. Although it is possible to write sonnets and pop song lyrics about any subject, and this has been done extensively, love songs have had a similar prototype-forming effect on the pop song as love sonnets have had on the sonnet. A band can deal with as many interesting topics as it wants - it is almost always measured by its love songs.
For the aesthetically ambitious pop song lyricist of the present day, just as for the regular poeta faber of the Renaissance and Baroque periods, this means that he must re-express what has already been said countless times within the framework of the chosen text type - whereby for the author of a pop love song there is the additional complication that the text should appear as an authentic expression of feelings, i.e. that the listener should not become aware of the rhetorical sophistication that is often exhibited in Baroque sonnets. This is because the myth of rock'n'roll contains authenticity as a central element, a criterion that did not play an important role in the production and reception of literary texts before the concept of genius was established in the Sturm und Drang period. For the German-language songwriter, this poses the specific question: How do I get past Matthias Reim's „Verdammt, ich lieb dich?“ Because the refrain of this song, which can be placed somewhere between Schlager and pop, seems to definitively formulate what a pop song lyric should be about: The conflict between the two great myths of rock, between love and the desire for freedom, between „Love Me, Tender“ and „Born to be wild“.
And yet - and this is very interesting for people who are learning German - the recipe for this refrain is as simple as it is linguistically elementary. The basic figure is an assertion and its negation. „Ich lieb dich – ich lieb dich nicht, ich brauch dich – ich brauch dich nicht, ich will dich – ich will dich nicht. The ultimate genius of the refrain is that it doesn't leave the last word to negation: „Ich will dich nicht verlier’n“ (I don't want to lose you). The main verb becomes an auxiliary verb, the following infinitive of the main verb cancels out the negation. Simple but very effective, Or as Einstein put it: „In der Einfachheit liegt die Genialität“ (Genius lies in simplicity).
As far as the verses are concerned, there can be no question of ingenious simplicity. In the first verse, the singer tries to distract himself and pretend that he no longer needs his ex-partner („Dich brauch ich nicht dafür“). He does things he used to like doing („Hab’ das früher auch gern gemacht“) and goes to the places they used to go together („Früher war’n wir oft gemeinsam hier“). The language level used for this can best be defined as „Kneipendeutsch“, pub German. „Ich ziehe durch die Straßen“ (I roam the streets), „Ich sitz am Tresen, trinke noch 'n Bier“ (I'm sitting at the bar, drinking another beer). „Tresen“ is a word that is used mainly in Northern and Middle Germany. Drinking one’s beer standing at the „Tresen“ (otherwise Theke, Bar) is part of German pub culture.
But although he tries to convince himself that he doesn't miss her („Das macht mir nichts, macht mir nichts - the reinforcing repetition is treacherous), he can't stop thinking about her: „Und ich denke schon wieder nur an dich“. This realization is triggered by his jealousy towards potential rivals in the pub: „Gegenüber sitzt 'n Typ wie'n Bär, / Ich stell mir vor: Wenn das dein Neuer wär'“ (There's a guy like a bear sitting opposite me, / I imagine: If that was your new guy). He has difficulty accepting the fact that she might be with someone else: „Auf einmal packt’s mich“. „Packen“ here has a different meaning, it’s a colloquial synonym of „“es überkommt mich“ (I am overcome), which indicates a sort of compulsive reaction: „… ich geh’ auf ihn zu / und mach ihn an“. „Anmachen“ is used quite frequently in colloquial German (level A1), especially as a synonym of „etwas festmachen, anbringen“ (fasten, attach curtains, a sign etc.) and of „etwas einschalten“ (switch on, turn on: a lamp, the radio, the heating). „Jemanden anmachen“ (often together with „blöde“, „dumm“ anmachen) is colloquial for „hit on s.o.“. The person addressed in this way reacts to the speaker's request to leave his woman alone at the same stylistic level: „Hast du’n (du einen) Stich?“. „Einen Stich (auch Knall) haben“ is colloquial for „be round the bend“.
In the third verse, the singer reflects on the reasons for the break-up. He wanted 'to be a bit freer' („‘n bisschen freier“), but now that he is free, he misses her and her „heile Welt“. „Heile Welt“ is a common saying for a world in which everything is in (bourgeois) order. The telephone he sees opposite („gegenüber“), which seems to mock him („es lacht mich ständig an voll Hohn“) symbolizes the lost contact with his partner. Paradoxically, he expects a call, but it never comes: „Es klingelt, klingelt aber nicht“ He tries to numb his feelings by drinking and smoking („Sieben Bier, zu viel geraucht“), but this does not help him to forget or overcome his feelings for her: „Und ich denk schon wieder nur an dich.“
Trio’s counter song in advance to “Verdammt ich lieb dich” dates from 1981:

Lyrics: https://genius.com/Trio-da-da-da-ich-li ... aha-lyrics
From inane phrases such as “aha” and “da, da, da” (168 times da and 27 times aha!), which could just as easily be replaced by “schubidua” or “heidschi bumbeidschi”, to the phrase “ich lieb dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht” instead of the usual fervent confessions of love, pretty much all pop clichés, from Heino to Rex Gildo, are made fun oft – there is a nice German phrase for „make fun of something“, „etwas durch den Kakao ziehen“ (pull hrough the cocoa). Whether it was calculation or coincidence, this parodic anti-hit song was not only successful because of its humorous appeal, but paradoxically also because it became a justification for latent Schlager bliss. The record sold over four million copies in 35 countries. On the one hand, this triviality could be proudly described as an ironic exaggeration of a musical nothing, but on the other hand, people were allowed to sing along to simple songs without ever being bothered. Irony served as a safe cloak.
This ambiguity was also reflected in the entire marketing strategy. Appearances on hit shows such as “ZDF-Hitparade” were gratefully accepted, but they wanted to distance themselves as far as possible from the image of bourgeois hit makers. If necessary, humor and wit were still the saving grace. Platitudes that had been cultivated for years were made fun of, and with an inappropriate, serious reception of these commercial jokes, some of the next generation were voluntarily taking themselves for a ride.

[Chrisinom]

Element of Crime: Delmenhorst

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/delmenho ... horst.html
The blues is said to get by with just three chords. Something similar could be said about the lyrics of Element of Crime, especially those in which love is mentioned, without this being meant in the slightest derogatory way. Recurring structures and language patterns are almost programmatic in frontman Sven Regener's lyrics. Element of Crime managed to name an album including a song with the same title “Immer da wo du bist bin ich nie” (2009) - even though (or precisely because?) the opening song „Delmenhorst“ of the previous album “Mittelpunkt der Welt” (2005) had already begun with the verse: “Ich bin jetzt immer da, wo du nicht bist”.
Delmenhorst is an urban district in Lower Saxony, Germany. It has a population of about 83,000 and is located 10 kilometres west of downtown Bremen with which it forms a contiguous urban area. The Bremen district of Huchting is around 6 kilometers from the center of Bremen and borders Delmenhorst to the west. The Ochtum is a tributary of the Weser that flows through Huchting. So much for the topography of the song. However, the song doesn't take this too seriously: Getränke Hoffmann GmbH is a chain of specialist drinks stores with around 600 branches, but neither in Bremen nor in Delmenhorst.
The song “Delmenhorst” is a very unconventional love, lovesickness or perhaps self-love song. In an interview, Sven Regener once explained that the lyrics in Element of Crime are always written after the music. The first lines of “Delmenhorst” almost “imposed themselves”, they immediately sounded very convincing, probably because they were reminiscent of “Ich sehe was, was du nicht siehst” (I see something that you don’t see), according to Regener. Which in turn would suggest that Element of Crime has a weakness for familiar-sounding phrases. "Ich she was, was / das du nicht siehst“ is a children's game in which participants take it in turns to find objects in the environment that are described by a sentence along the lines of “I see something you don't see and that is...”. The object can be described in increasing detail by naming more and more properties until it is guessed by another player. The guessing player can then usually choose an object to guess next. And Regener gives another hint in the interview. The overall mood of “Delmenhorst” refers to the song “Weißes Papier” from 1993, in which a very similar basic tendency prevails, which Regener describes with the words: „Am liebsten wär’ ich auf einem anderen Stern, wo mich nichts an dich erinnert.“ (I'd love to be on another star, where nothing reminds me of you.)
What is also immediately apparent in the first verse of “Delmenhorst”: as in so many songs by Element of Crime, logic is brutally overridden. The contradiction between “jetzt” and “immer” in the first verse may still be due to the band's weakness for bizarre colloquialisms. But the fact that a song “I” is always where the “you” - probably a former lover - is not, and that this place is “immer Delmenhorst”, seems more defiant than likely. In general, the first verse is pervaded by an unusually pronounced desire for inevitability, which is also frequently found in the band's lyrics. Regener's favorite words include: “immer”, „alles“, „nur“, „nie“ – and „jetzt“. All four verses have this „jetzt“ in their first line - Relief at being alone now, or despair at the loss of a bond?
At first, the first verse seems to be about breathing a sigh of relief: “It's nice when it doesn't hurt anymore.” An escape seems to be the only consolation for the abandoned person, who sees it as the last chance to gain distance. Displacement is only possible in a place where there are no shared memories. Yet the place where the speaker finds himself is more the result of a negative choice: he is where she never was and is not now. The linguistic expression is colloquial: “Wo zu sein, wo du nie warst.“ (To be where you've never been). The first “where” is not an interrogative pronoun, but an indefinite indication of place.
The second stanza is also characterized by a feeling of liberation. The speaker feels liberated from external influences that determine his choice of clothing and leisure activities. Regener works - not only here - with the stylistic device of irony and thus illustrates the dichotomy in which the narrator's ego is trapped. On the one hand, he enjoys the freedom to do as he pleases, as no one seems to be interested (“Ob ich wirklich Sport betreibe / Interessiert hier keine Sau.”). On the other hand, however, the ironic choice of words suggests that the speaker's statements are always directed at the missing person. He uses the colloquial proverb “Grün und blau schmückt die Sau“ (Green and blue adorns the sow - green and blue is not a harmonious color combination for clothing) in an affectionate provocation to make it clear that he does not have to dress or behave according to the tastes of the person being addressed. „Das interessiert keine Sau / kein Schwein“ (Nobody gives a damn about that) is a common phrase in German.
Or is there something else behind this “green and blue”? One could think of the expression “jemanden grün und blau schlagen“ (to beat someone black and blue). Then the “I” in the song would be a victim of domestic violence. That sounds far-fetched at first, but it would fit in with the absurdly denunciatory double line “Ich mach jetzt endlich alles öffentlich / Und erzähle, was ich weiß“ (I'm finally making everything public / and telling what I know). To top it all off, this is where humor comes into play, which Regener defined in a recent lecture as “liberation through distance”. The song ego keeps tormenting feelings at bay through all possible forms of inauthentic speech. Bremer Straße in Delmenhorst becomes the “Die Straße der Verdammten“ (the street of the damned), those excluded from the (originally Christian) community.
Thus in the last verse, the ego has somehow found itself: “Ich bin jetzt da, wo ich mich haben will“ (I am now where I want to be.) This strategy culminates in the fourth verse in a piece of wisdom that turns the message of punk from its head to its feet: “„Erst wenn alles scheißegal ist, / macht das Leben wieder Spaß“ (Only when everything doesn't matter / is life fun again”, whereby Regener emphasizes the “scheißegal” almost lovingly.
So it can be said: A logical control passage is of course not the appropriate approach to Sven Regener's lyrics. In the songs of Element of Crime, aporias, artificial contradictions and absurd inevitabilities are deliberately created - almost zen-like - in order to lead the mind into a quandary and prepare the ground for a special form of empathy. As the semantics are of no help, the listener is virtually forced to ask himself from which inner attitude the contradictory statements of the song lyrics could make sense. Thinking is not completely eliminated, however, in that a purely emotional approach is repeatedly flanked by gruff, emotionally hostile statements. For example, the sigh of relief „Es ist schön, wenn’s nicht mehr weh tut“ in verse 1 is followed by a refrain in which everything high-flying is dragged down into a “Graben (ditch)” near Huchting that is “weder breit noch tief“ (neither wide nor deep).
One could think here of the folk ballad of the two royal children („Es waren zwei Königskinder“) who, separated by water, cannot come together: (https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=6699) But unfortunately, the ditch behind Huchtings is anything but insurmountable. And Delmenhorst is just a small town and not a kingdom. It has nothing more to offer its residents than a beverage market and a ditch. A true paradise for all friends of regulars' table slogans and garden gnomes. By listing to the typical characteristics of Delmenhorst, which do not seem to differ from those of other ordinary small towns, Regener offers the listener an opportunity for identification.
It is noticeable that the second line of the otherwise constant refrain varies. The banal, everyday-language description of the ditch in the first version is followed by a substantive and linguistic stylization in the second. The ditch “ergießt sich” into the Ochtum, a tributary of the Werder river. “Sich ergießen” refers to a flowing in large quantities: the ditch, which is neither wide nor deep, becomes a stream that pours into the sea. This contradiction comes to a head in the following refrain: “Einer” (who? The speaker?) “übergibt sich” into the ditch. Various associations play a role here: The non-reflexive meaning of the verb “übergeben” (surrender - to Delmenhorst, to his situation?) or also the vulgar synonym for “sich übergeben”, “kotzen”. Something that is “zum Kotzen” is unbearable; disgusting, revolting, repulsive - perhaps a description of the speaker's state of mind.
In the last chorus, Regener finally returns to the original line. If this tension curve within the chorus is transferred to the inner state of the speaker's ego, the assumption of a submissive individual is 7 7t6z confirmed, who ultimately comes to the realization that he can only be helped if he accepts the state of indifference. But then at the end oft the chorus, what a phrase! “Sag Bescheid, wenn Du mich liebst" (Let me know if you love me). This oscillates between official language (a "Bescheid" is an order from an authority or a court) and the colloquial expression "jemandem Bescheid sagen" (let someone know). The combination of officialese, colloquialism and hoped-for declaration of love can be twisted and turned in many different directions, and a different message is always spit out. Is there more defiance or more despair at play here, mockery or tenderness? Everything seems possible; the musical solos that begin after the chorus spread an almost siren-like euphony.

[Chrisinom]

Karat: Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/ueber-si ... idges.html
I heard this song for the first time on October 3 this year, the German Unity Day. Or better, I heard it a lot of times before – it’a one oft the most popular German pop songs. But I had never before heard this version, which is the original. This has to do with the two Germanys after World War 2.
But first some words about the value of the song for people who are learning German. One of the greatest problems for learners is the German word order. This text is very useful to understand how it works. Let’s have a look at the first line: „Manchmal geh(e) ich meine Straße ohne Blick.“ The „normal“ word order would be: „Ich (subject) – gehe (verb) – manchmal (adverb of time) – meine Straße (direct object) – ohne Blick (adverbial determination of manner). In German, you can put any part oft the sentence at the beginning: Here it is „manchmal“. This is not so difficult, you can also put adverbs of frequency like „sometimes“ at the beginning of the sentence in English. But there are two differences: If you don’t put the subject at the beginning of the sentence in German, there must follow an inversion of subject and verb: „Manchmal gehe ich“, not *Manchmal ich gehe (Sometimes I go). The second difference is that you can also put the other parts oft the sentence at the beginning (with following inversion): Meine Straße gehe ich manchmal ohne Blick. / Ohne Blick gehe ich manchmal meine Straße. (Although this sounds a bit strange, which has to do with the rather poetic expression „ohne Blick“, without looking)
This almost free sentence structure makes German very variable and offers stylistic possibilities that many other languages do not have. In this song, it is the anaphors (“Sometimes ...” in the verses and “seven” in the chorus) that rhetorically reinforce the song's message. The refrain shows another problem of German word order: The so-called „Satzklammer“. The terms „Satzklamer“ (sentence bracket) or „Klammerform“ (bracket form) describe the typical sentence structure that occurs in the main clause in German (and Dutch) as soon as the predicate also has infinite (non-conjugated) parts in addition to the finite verb (the conjugated verb form). Since the German declarative sentence has verb division, the finite verb is then at the front and the remaining, infinite part - either the verb addition of a separable verb or other verbs in infinite forms - at the back of the sentence; the two then “clasp” the middle of the sentence, so to speak: „Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n.“ The verb consists oft two parts, the modal auxiliary „musst“ and the infinitive „gehen“.
The same phenomenon occurs with verbs that have a prefix. An example from the first verse, line 4: „Manchmal schließ ich alle Türen nach mir zu.“ The infinitive „zuschließen“ is divided in the finite verb form into two parts, the second of which (the prefix zu-) goes to the end oft the sentence. It’s obvious that this creates a lot oft problems for simultaneous translators. Just imagine you have to translate this sentence simultaneously: „ Das Forschungsschiff ging nach einer zunächst ruhigen Fahrt, die zu unbewohnten Inseln in der Karibik führte, unerwartet am 15. Tag der Expedition unter“. You can watch how the verb changes when you type the sentence word by word into deepL: went – left – departed – left – set off – sank – set sail – sank. A truly sneaky German specialty! Mark Twain, who made some humorous suggestions for simplifying the German language (The Awful German Language, 1880), called them “these things” and noted that the German language is “littered” with them “like the blisters of a rash”: “... and the more the two parts are torn apart, the more satisfied the author of the crime is with his work.”
And that’s not all. Let’s have a look at the first two lines oft the refrain: „Über sieben Brücken musst du geh(e)n / Sieben dunkle Jahre (musst du) übersteh(e)n“. How’s that? Why are „über“ and „gehen“ torn apart in the first line but stick together in „überstehen“? The answer is simple for native speakers: „Über“ is a local preposition in the first line and belongs syntactically to „sieben Brücken“ as a local adverbial determination, whereas in „überstehen“ it’s a prefix. The funny thing is that there’s also a verb „übergehen“ (https://www.dwds.de/wb/übergehen) and there’s also „über etwas stehen“: „Er steht über den Dingen“, he stands above things).
The meaning of the song is, at least on the surface, quite obvious. It speaks about the various challenges and experiences one encounters throughout life. The lyrics touch upon themes of reflection, uncertainty, resilience, and the search for inner fulfillment.The opening lines suggest a sense of detachment or indifference, with the narrator walking his path without paying attention („ohne Blick“) or longing for something from the past (symbolized by wanting their rocking horse from childhood back). At times, he feels restless (underlined by the alliterating hendiadys „ohne Rast und Ruh“) and closes themselves off emotionally by shutting doors behind him, which is a common metaphor. Closing a door behind you doesn't just mean leaving a room, it also means closing the door on something.
The lyrics also convey the fluctuations of emotions and the ever-changing nature of life. The narrator experiences moments of both cold and heat („Manchmal ist mir kalt und manchmal heiß“), uncertainty (The paradox „Manchmal weiß ich nicht mehr, was ich weiß“), and weariness (“Manchmal bin ich schon am Morgen müd’“). He looks for and finds solace in music, seeking comfort and understanding in a song. This song is the refrain.
The lyrics further touch on the sense of stagnation and repetition, with references to the clock of life („Die Uhr des Lebens“) appearing to stand still, and to feeling trapped in a cycle („immer nur im Kreis … geh’n“.) The reference to wanderlust (Fernweh) conveys a longing for adventure or new experiences. The contrast between movement and standstill dominates the first four lines of the second verse. Further antitheses also run through the last four lines, which explore the complexity of human emotions and relationships. They acknowledge the contradiction of sometimes taking more than giving („Manchmal nimmt man, wo man lieber gibt“), and occasionally hating the very things one loves (“Manchmal hasst man das, was man doch liebt“). The desire to grasp the whole world („nach der ganzen Welt“ greifen) contrasts with the adverse circumstances when the constellation of the stars stand in the way and luck lets you down („… er Glücksstern fällt“).
The refrain "Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n" (You must walk over seven bridges) serves as a symbol for the challenges and obstacles one encounters in life. The bridge is a symbol of transition. In every person's life there are moments of significant change, turning points that require a transition from one phase to another. The bridge stands for this transition, which is often accompanied by uncertainty and fear, but also by hope and possibilities. Separation and connection correlate in the bridge. In literature and film, it becomes clear that bridges are sometimes entered and crossed only hesitantly. A resolute “I want to go there” or a relieved “I've made it” is not given to everyone. Some are paralyzed by the fear that beyond the bridge, in the realm of the unknown, lurks an uncertain fate or an event that can never be reversed. For a moment it is still possible to turn back, but in a moment the person and their future life will be over. This imples implies the need to endure difficult periods (die „sieben dunkle(n) Jahre“) and face adversity (symbolized by the ashes, but also points to the potential for transformation and growth. The line "Aber einmal auch der helle Schein" (But once also the bright shine) suggests that after traversing these challenges, there will be moments of illumination and personal fulfillment.
Overall, "Über 7 Brücken musst du geh’n" invites listeners to reflect on the ups and downs of life, the necessity of perseverance in the face of challenges, and the potential for personal growth and fulfillment. It captures the nuanced nature of human experiences and encourages acceptance and resilience. The number seven is of great importance in many areas of life (religion, nature, periodicity, culture, mathematics, magic) all over the world. As a magical number, it is an integral part of popular beliefs, folk songs, folk tales and fairy tales. The song that gives comfort in this song is a folk song in terms of its language and structure. As in the folk song, it is based on dichotomous opposites: Future and past, cold and hot, morning and tiredness, taking and giving, hating and loving, darkness and bright glow.
But there is more to it beyond this rather philosophical meaning. The first line oft the refrain is a song title that almost everyone in the German-speaking world knows - but the story behind the song is still largely unknown. The song is highly symbolic and was linked to specific political events. In divided Germany, it brought people's hearts together. The song's genesis is closely linked to the political events of the late 1970s. A parable initially not for the bridge between East and West, but between East and East. The song has its origins in the GDR.
In 1977, the rock group Karat produced the song “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen” for a feature film of the same name on GDR television. The film was broadcast in spring 1978. The action takes place at the Espenhain lignite refinery, called Zaspenhain in the film, and the Thierbach construction site. The film links the fate of Polish forced laborers in this region during the Second World War and the aftermath of a German-Polish love affair in the present day. It is about an unfulfilled love between a German and a Pole in a large GDR company. Gitta, a power plant laboratory technician, falls in love with Jerzy, a Pole who has come to the GDR to build cooling towers. Jerzy also likes the fun-loving Gitta. But then the past gets in the way… The film's title refers to an old Polish legend in which a mother has to carry her sick child over seven bridges to make it well again. In 1979 - one year later - the film was banned for political reasons. The GDR political leadership disapproved of the developments in Poland. The new Pope, John Paul II, comes from this country, and the Polish trade union “Solidarnosc” demonstrates and goes on strike. A liberal opening towards Poland does not suit the GDR leadership. They cut the cultural and scientific bridges to their neighboring country.
Nevertheless, Karat celebrated their greatest success with this song, with which they won the Grand Prix at the GDR International Schlager Festival in 1978. The broadcast of the film and the Grand Prix award ensured that there was great interest in the band in East and West Germany. However, the political tensions between the two German states at the time prevented Karat from achieving all-German success. Numerous requests for Karat to perform in the West were thwarted by the GDR Ministry of Culture's order not to present GDR art in Western media.
As a result, another artist achieved great success with “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen”. Just one year after the Karat LP “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen”, West German rock musician Peter Maffay released a cover version of the song. Maffay contacted the band Karat personally beforehand and asked if it would be all right if he recorded his own version of the song. His version differs from the original in terms of arrangement and instrumentation, but without changing the basic musical form or the emotional message. It was a huge success. As he was able to be very present in the media without being banned from performing by the state, many people did not know for a long time who the actual creators of the song were. Here is Maffay’s version:

[Chrisinom]

Karat: Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/ueber-si ... idges.html
I heard this song for the first time on October 3 this year, the German Unity Day. Or better, I heard it a lot of times before – it’a one of the most popular German pop songs. But I had never before heard this version, which is the original. This has to do with the two Germanys after World War 2.
But first some words about the value of the song for people who are learning German. One of the greatest problems for learners is the German word order. This text is very useful to understand how it works. Let’s have a look at the first line: „Manchmal geh(e) ich meine Straße ohne Blick.“ The „normal“ word order would be: „Ich (subject) – gehe (verb) – manchmal (adverb of time) – meine Straße (direct object) – ohne Blick (adverbial determination of manner). In German, you can put any part of the sentence at the beginning: Here it is „manchmal“. This is not so difficult, you can also put adverbs of frequency like „sometimes“ at the beginning of the sentence in English. But there are two differences: If you don’t put the subject at the beginning of the sentence in German, there must follow an inversion of subject and verb: „Manchmal gehe ich“, not *Manchmal ich gehe" (Sometimes I go). The second difference is that you can also put the other parts of the sentence at the beginning (with following inversion): Meine Straße gehe ich manchmal ohne Blick. / Ohne Blick gehe ich manchmal meine Straße. (Although this sounds a bit strange, which has to do with the rather poetic expression „ohne Blick“, without looking)
This almost free sentence structure makes German very variable and offers stylistic possibilities that many other languages do not have. In this song, it is the anaphors (“Sometimes ...” in the verses and “seven” in the chorus) that rhetorically reinforce the song's message. The refrain shows another problem of German word order: The so-called „Satzklammer“. The terms „Satzklamer“ (sentence bracket) or „Klammerform“ (bracket form) describe the typical sentence structure that occurs in the main clause in German (and Dutch) as soon as the predicate also has infinite (non-conjugated) parts in addition to the finite verb (the conjugated verb form). Since the German declarative sentence has verb division, the finite verb is then at the front and the remaining, infinite part - either the verb addition of a separable verb or other verbs in infinite forms - at the back of the sentence; the two then “clasp” the middle of the sentence, so to speak: „Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n.“ The verb consists oft two parts, the modal auxiliary „musst“ and the infinitive „gehen“.
The same phenomenon occurs with verbs that have a prefix. An example from the first verse, line 4: „Manchmal schließ ich alle Türen nach mir zu.“ The infinitive „zuschließen“ is divided in the finite verb form into two parts, the second of which (the prefix zu-) goes to the end of the sentence. It’s obvious that this creates a lot of problems for simultaneous translators. Just imagine you have to translate this sentence simultaneously: „ Das Forschungsschiff ging nach einer zunächst ruhigen Fahrt, die zu unbewohnten Inseln in der Karibik führte, unerwartet am 15. Tag der Expedition unter“. You can watch how the verb changes when you type the sentence word by word into deepL: went – left – departed – left – set off – sank – set sail – sank. A truly sneaky German specialty! Mark Twain, who made some humorous suggestions for simplifying the German language (The Awful German Language, 1880), called them “these things” and noted that the German language is “littered” with them “like the blisters of a rash”: “... and the more the two parts are torn apart, the more satisfied the author of the crime is with his work.”
And that’s not all. Let’s have a look at the first two lines of the refrain: „Über sieben Brücken musst du geh(e)n / Sieben dunkle Jahre (musst du) übersteh(e)n“. How’s that? Why are „über“ and „gehen“ torn apart in the first line but stick together in „überstehen“? The answer is simple for native speakers: „Über“ is a local preposition in the first line and belongs syntactically to „sieben Brücken“ as a local adverbial determination, whereas in „überstehen“ it’s a prefix. The funny thing is that there’s also a verb „übergehen“ (https://www.dwds.de/wb/übergehen) and there’s also „über etwas stehen“: „Er steht über den Dingen“, he stands above things).
The meaning of the song is, at least on the surface, quite obvious. It speaks about the various challenges and experiences one encounters throughout life. The lyrics touch upon themes of reflection, uncertainty, resilience, and the search for inner fulfillment.The opening lines suggest a sense of detachment or indifference, with the narrator walking his path without paying attention („ohne Blick“) or longing for something from the past (symbolized by wanting his rocking horse from childhood back). At times, he feels restless (underlined by the alliterating hendiadys „ohne Rast und Ruh“) and closes himself off emotionally by shutting doors behind him, which is a common metaphor. Closing a door behind you doesn't just mean leaving a room, it also means closing the door on something.
The lyrics also convey the fluctuations of emotions and the ever-changing nature of life. The narrator experiences moments of both cold and heat („Manchmal ist mir kalt und manchmal heiß“), uncertainty (The paradox „Manchmal weiß ich nicht mehr, was ich weiß“), and weariness (“Manchmal bin ich schon am Morgen müd’“). He looks for and finds solace in music, seeking comfort and understanding in a song. This song is the refrain.
The lyrics further touch on the sense of stagnation and repetition, with references to the clock of life („Die Uhr des Lebens“) appearing to stand still, and to feeling trapped in a cycle („immer nur im Kreis … geh’n“.) The reference to wanderlust (Fernweh) conveys a longing for adventure or new experiences. The contrast between movement and standstill dominates the first four lines of the second verse. Further antitheses also run through the last four lines, which explore the complexity of human emotions and relationships. They acknowledge the contradiction of sometimes taking more than giving („Manchmal nimmt man, wo man lieber gibt“), and occasionally hating the very things one loves (“Manchmal hasst man das, was man doch liebt“). The desire to grasp the whole world („nach der ganzen Welt“ greifen) contrasts with the adverse circumstances when the constellation of the stars stand in the way and luck lets you down („… er Glücksstern fällt“).
The refrain "Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n" (You must walk over seven bridges) serves as a symbol for the challenges and obstacles one encounters in life. The bridge is a symbol of transition. In every person's life there are moments of significant change, turning points that require a transition from one phase to another. The bridge stands for this transition, which is often accompanied by uncertainty and fear, but also by hope and possibilities. Separation and connection correlate in the bridge. In literature and film, it becomes clear that bridges are sometimes entered and crossed only hesitantly. A resolute “I want to go there” or a relieved “I've made it” is not given to everyone. Some are paralyzed by the fear that beyond the bridge, in the realm of the unknown, lurks an uncertain fate or an event that can never be reversed. For a moment it is still possible to turn back, but in a moment the person and their future life will be over. This imples the need to endure difficult periods (die „sieben dunkle(n) Jahre“) and face adversity (symbolized by the ashes), but also points to the potential for transformation and growth. The line "Aber einmal auch der helle Schein" (But once also the bright shine) suggests that after traversing these challenges, there will be moments of illumination and personal fulfillment.
Overall, "Über 7 Brücken musst du geh’n" invites listeners to reflect on the ups and downs of life, the necessity of perseverance in the face of challenges, and the potential for personal growth and fulfillment. It captures the nuanced nature of human experiences and encourages acceptance and resilience. The number seven is of great importance in many areas of life (religion, nature, periodicity, culture, mathematics, magic) all over the world. As a magical number, it is an integral part of popular beliefs, folk songs, folk tales and fairy tales. The song that gives comfort in this song is a folk song in terms of its language and structure. As in the folk song, it is based on dichotomous opposites: Future and past, cold and hot, morning and tiredness, taking and giving, hating and loving, darkness and bright glow.
But there is more to it beyond this rather philosophical meaning. The first line of the refrain is a song title that almost everyone in the German-speaking world knows - but the story behind the song is still largely unknown. The song is highly symbolic and was linked to specific political events. In divided Germany, it brought people's hearts together. The song's genesis is closely linked to the political events of the late 1970s. A parable initially not for the bridge between East and West, but between East and East. The song has its origins in the GDR.
In 1977, the rock group Karat produced the song “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen” for a feature film of the same name on GDR television. The film was broadcast in spring 1978. The action takes place at the Espenhain lignite refinery, called Zaspenhain in the film, and the Thierbach construction site. The film links the fate of Polish forced laborers in this region during the Second World War and the aftermath of a German-Polish love affair in the present day. It is about an unfulfilled love between a German and a Pole in a large GDR company. Gitta, a power plant laboratory technician, falls in love with Jerzy, a Pole who has come to the GDR to build cooling towers. Jerzy also likes the fun-loving Gitta. But then the past gets in the way… The film's title refers to an old Polish legend in which a mother has to carry her sick child over seven bridges to make it well again. In 1979 - one year later - the film was banned for political reasons. The GDR political leadership disapproved of the developments in Poland. The new Pope, John Paul II, comes from this country, and the Polish trade union “Solidarnosc” demonstrates and goes on strike. A liberal opening towards Poland does not suit the GDR leadership. They cut the cultural and scientific bridges to their neighboring country.
Nevertheless, Karat celebrated their greatest success with this song, with which they won the Grand Prix at the GDR International Schlager Festival in 1978. The broadcast of the film and the Grand Prix award ensured that there was great interest in the band in East and West Germany. However, the political tensions between the two German states at the time prevented Karat from achieving all-German success. Numerous requests for Karat to perform in the West were thwarted by the GDR Ministry of Culture's order not to present GDR art in Western media.
As a result, another artist achieved great success with “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen”. Just one year after the Karat LP “Über sieben Brücken musst du gehen”, West German rock musician Peter Maffay released a cover version of the song. Maffay contacted the band Karat personally beforehand and asked if it would be all right if he recorded his own version of the song. His version differs from the original in terms of arrangement and instrumentation, but without changing the basic musical form or the emotional message. It was a huge success. As he was able to be very present in the media without being banned from performing by the state, many people did not know for a long time who the actual creators of the song were. Here is Maffay’s version:

[Chrisinom]

Herbert Grönemeyer: Der Weg

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/der-weg-way.html-0
“Der Weg” is the second single from Grönemeyer's album ‘Mensch’. After the death of his brother on November 1, 1998 and his wife, Anna Henkel Grönemeyer, on November 5, 1998 within a few days of each other, Grönemeyer took a longer break. During this time out, he wrote his eleventh album, which he himself describes as helping him to come to terms with his grief. He dedicated the single „Der Weg“ to his wife, who died as a result of breast cancer. In this ballad, Grönemeyer describes his deceased wife, deals with old memories and looks back on their life together. He also addresses his own experiences of coping with grief, such as the possibility of giving up. But the song also contains hope. In the last lines in particular, he describes looking ahead to a new chapter in his life.
In the first verse, Grönemeyer describes his state of shock after his loss. In this situation, he can no longer rely on his sensory organs: „Ich kann nicht mehr sehen“. This inability to see is not a failure of the visual organ, but a loss of confidence that his perceptions are correct: "(Ich) trau nicht mehr meinen Augen." Seinen Augen nicht trauen means „this simply can’t be true“. It is impossible to say whether the “(Ich) kann nicht mehr glauben“ has a religious meaning. His emotional world is confused: „(Die) Gefühle haben sich gedreht“. In this situation, many people would give up, but not even that is possible for him: „Ich bin viel zu träge, um aufzugeben“. „Träge“ is listless, lacking energy, without drive. In addition, the right time to give up has not yet come, „weil immer was geht“, because there is always something happening, going on.
„Was geht“ is one of the typical expressions of youth language in Germany. It has various meanings and is mostly used as a conversation starter. The question is not aimed at a specific thing, but leaves room for interpretation. As a rule, however, the other person wants to find out how you are doing or whether there is anything new. On the other hand, the question often only serves as a greeting and does not require an answer.
In the second and third verse, Grönemeyer defines his relationship with his wife as one of conspirators who would have died for each other: „Wir waren verschworen, wären füeinander gestorben.“ To underline the special nature of this relationship, he resorts to figurative wordplay: „(Wir) Haben den Regen gebogen“ (we bent the rain) is a paradoxical play on words and at the same time an allusion to the rainbow (in German „Regenbogen), the symbol of hope, peace and diversity. In the next line, their life appears to be a ski run, a schuss („Schussfahrt“) towards the end of life which they tried to stop by turning. But nothing was too late, but a lot was too early: They don't have to blame themselves for reacting too late, fate was too quick.
In the third verse it becomes clear how much work and effort this life together after the cancer diagnosis has cost: They have pushed themselves through the ups and downs of life, pictorially represented as high tide and low tide (die „Gezeiten“, Ebbe und Flut), unchangeable in their succession. „Wir haben uns verzettelt“ (We’ve got bogged down). The verb “verzetteln” (like “anzetteln”) does not refer to the paper slip, but to the slip in the weaving mill. It describes a person maneuvering themselves into a hopeless situation through poorly structured actions. This expression comes from the technical language of weaving, where it means either to tangle and spoil the yarn or to leave too little yarn for the weft (the number of cross threads of a workpiece). They loved each other desperately („verzweifelt“), they tried to suppress the deadly truth as best as they could („so gut es ging“). The last line of verse three leads to the refrain, the confession of love: „Es war ein Stück vom Himmel, dass es dich gibt.“ (It was a piece of heaven that you exist). Interestingly, the present tense in the that-sentence is “gibt” and not “gab”. The reason for this becomes clear in the last verse.
In the chorus, Grönemeyer first describes the positive effect his deceased wife had on her environment. To do so, he resorts to a paradoxical metaphor: „Du hast jeden Raum mit Sonne geflutet.“ „Fluten“ as a transitive verb means in sailor's language, to put sth. under water, to let it fill up. The metaphor perfectly emphasizes the influence her personality had on her environment. Her aura transforms “jeden Verdruss” ( every annoyance) into its opposite. The following two lines emphasize the special character traits of the beloved. They will be supplemented by others in the second version of the refrain.
The fourth stanza continues the relationship between the partners from stanza 2. A moment of complete happiness (like in a film, the lines can be seen as a film script: „den Film getanzt“) is depicted in a very condensed form („im Zeitraffer“, in fast motion) in elliptical sentences. It is a moment of supreme value, emphasized by the colors “silberm” and “golden”. The picture leads from the interior to the exterior, from the harmonious movement of the dance to the quiet contemplation („bestaunt“) of infinity („Unendlichkeit“); both areas are connected by the balcony. Grönemeyer depicts the perfect moment here: a moment of complete surrender and exstatic boundlessness. They give themselves completely to the moment (“heillos” is not only hopelessly but also utterly), pay no attention to what is happening around them (“versunken”, literally disappeared under the surface oft water), are as if in a trance (“trunken”). There are two past participles of „trinken“, getrunken (for the compound verb forms Perfekt and Plusquamperfekt and the passive form) and „betrunken“, drunk(en). „Trunken“ is „betrunken“ in elevated language, but also extremely happy and enthusiastic, overwhelmed with emotion. There are no borders, no limits („alles war erlaubt“). The last sentence, consisting of one word, summarizes the moment: „Mittsommernachtstraum“, Midsummer Night’s Dream. This is not just an allusion to Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night's Dream”. According to Christian tradition, St. John's Day is celebrated on June 24, which commemorates the birth of John the Baptist. Due to the proximity to the summer solstice, these two important days have merged into one festival over time. In Northern Europe, the day is celebrated with fires, music and special food. Since the late Middle Ages, Swedes have also erected a kind of maypole, which they wrap with branches and flowers and dance around. However, the Swedish word 'majstång' has nothing to do with the month of May, but goes back to the verb 'maja', which means “to decorate with flowers”.For rural society, Midsummer's Eve was a time full of magic and mystery.
The second part of the refrain is longer than the first. Lines three to six (three and four are also included in the first refrain) provide a portrait of the partner's character traits: they emphasize her noblesse (“nordisch nobel”, the “nordisch” refers to the Midsummer Night's Dream), her gentleness, kindness, her pride ("specified as ‘unbändig’, exceeding every measure), her security, which is expressed in her gait, her poetic talent, her trtuthfulness, her cheerfulness and dignity, and finally her steadfastness and skill. Two characteristics are each presented in a combination of adjective and noun, some of which contain contradictory elements: Reality and fiction („wahre Gedichte“), light-heartedness and dignity („heitere Würde“), imperturbability and adaptability („unerschütterliches Geschick“). The last lines refer to her attitude in the face of death: „Du hast der Fügung (fate) deine Stirn geboten“. „Jemandem or etwas die Stirn bieten“ means facing him/her/it fearlessly, not giving in. Despite everything, she has not betrayed her plan for happiness („Du hast ihn nicht verraten, deinen Plan from Glück“).
Grönemeyer's song begins with the personal pronoun “Ich”, with his state of mind after the loss of his wife. Via the “Wir”, the memory of the shared past, and the “Du”, the memory of the beloved wife, the text returns to the “Ich”. However, this “Ich” in the last verse is a different, a new one. Following the example of its lost companion, it does not give up, defies fate and sets off on a new journey through life, towards a new destiny: „Neue Zeitreise, offene Welt.“ This has been made possible by the mourning work of the previous verses: The „Ich“ is no longer alone, it carries the dead lover with it (hence „dass es dich gibt“ in verse 3, safe in its soul, until its new journey through time ends and the curtain falls.
The video for the song illustrates this vividly. It takes its starting point from the water metaphor of the song (Gezeiten, Regen, fluten, versunken) .The performer Herbert Grönemeyer is on a sailing yacht in the middle of the sea, battling with waves. The waves symbolize the blows of fate, the loss of his brother and his wife, which he is trying to overcome. At the end of the video, Grönemeyer walks up a footbridge that leads the way to heaven. Shortly before entering the door to heaven, he stops, looks back at the sea and then walks through the door.
The grammatical focus of the song is on the past participle. Of course, in most cases it is part of the perfect forms of verbs: wir haben gebogen, haben versucht, haben verlogen; du hast geflutet, hast verkehrt, hast geboten, hast nicht verraten; (ich) hab’ verlängert. Some oft the verbs are reflexive: Gefühle haben sich gedreht, (wir haben) uns Vertrauen gelieh’n, wir haben uns geschoben durch alle Gezeiten, haben uns verzettelt, uns verzweifelt geliebt. In these examples it is clear that the reflxive pronoun comes after the auxiliary verb sein/haben, other parts of the sentence, if present,finally the participle at the end of the sentence. The only exception is found in the sentence “Wir haben uns geschoben durch alle Gezeiten”. Here the participle is not at the end of the sentence, which is unusual but possible in lyrical texts for emphasis or rhythmic reasons. Here it serves to underline the uncommon use of the verb „schieben“.
However, there are other uses of the past participle in the song. In the fourth stanza, the perfect clauses become elliptical and the auxiliary verb “haben” is omitted: „den Film getanzt“, „die Unendlichkeit bestaunt“. Finally, in the third line of verse, the participles become adjectives: „(Wir waren) heillos versunken, trunken, und alles war erlaubt“. In the second verse, there’s another example of a participle as an adjectiv: „Wir waren verschworen“. Finally, there is a past participle with the past conjunctive: „(Wir) wären füreinandet gestorben.“

[Chrisinom]

Hannes Wader: Dat du min leevsten büst

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/de/dat-du-m ... -bist.html
Since the album „Hannes Wader: Volkssänger“ from 1975 at the latest, the singer-songwriter has also made a name for himself in this field. He is regarded as one of the musicians who made the singing of folk songs popular again. In the 1970s, it was almost frowned upon to sing folk songs, as they were associated with a pronounced right-wing political attitude, above all because of their strong ideological instrumentalization by the National Socialist regime, but despite all the criticism that the left-leaning Hannes Wader was now also singing folk songs, he was not deterred. There was also a positive response and in the singer-songwriter scene and folk movement there were more and more groups and performers who had the courage to cultivate the culture of the folk song. As early as 1974, he had dealt with Low German folk songs in the album „Plattdeutsche Lieder“. One of his best-known songs from this album is „Dat du min Leevsten büst“. Of course, this is for very advanced learners and/or people that are interested in languages in general. Knowing something about Low German may also help English learners oft German, since Low German is much closer to English than High German.
Let's start with the linguistic background, the language of the German North, „Niederdeutsch“ or „Plattdeutsch“. Hochdeutsch is the language that many Germans regard as their native language and other Germans use as a means for formal communication while sticking to dialects in most day-to-day conversations. Hochdeutsch (High German) originally refers to the German dialects that have been spoken in Upper Germany, i.e. the hilly and mountainous regions in the South of Germany, Austria and Switzerland. In contrast, Niederdeutsch designates the dialects that have been spoken in the lowlands that extend to the coast of the North Sea. However, most German speakers are not aware of the geographical distinction and use the term Hochdeutsch to refer to standardized German.
It is generally said that the German spoken in the Hanover region is the purest High German. Yet Hanover lies at the center of the Low German language area. The explanation for this is simple. In the Middle Ages, at the time of the Hanseatic League in the north, Low German was not only the spoken dialect, but also a valued written language in its own right. The Hanse merchants were wealthy, traveled a lot and did business in their language in all places. With the decline of the League, the status of Low German also collapsed. The loss of prestige was great. Low German remained an everyday language for people in the countryside. Educated circles in particular increasingly switched to High German. Low German lost its importance as a written language altogether. In the 16th century, there was a fundamental shift from the written and spoken Low German language to a written language based on High German in the Hanseatic League area of northern Germany. In the north, the written High German language began to be spoken like a foreign language and was oriented towards the sounds of the letters. As a result, the North German pronunciation is now regarded as the “best” or “purest” pronunciation of the High German written language.
Now to the main differences between Low German and High German. They are mainly phonological. I try to avoid using technical terms as much as possible. In addition, both Low German and High German, which in turn can be divided into „Mitteldeutsch“ (Middle German) and „Oberdeutsch“ (Upper German), consist of many different dialects. The Low German dialects differ from the Middle German and High German dialects primarily in that none of the three phases of the second sound shift, which took place in the early Middle Ages between the 6th and 8th centuries, were carried out. The voiceless sounds p, t and k affected by the second sound shift remain in Low German, while they are shifted to f/ff, s/z/tz and ch in Middle and High German. There are differences depending on the position of the sound: at the beginning of the word, in the middle of the word and at the end. For example, the shift from k to ch at the end of a word is only found in the Alemannic dialects of south-western Germany, most radically in Schwyzerdütsch.
Some examples from the song and other examples in brackets:
p – f/ff: slöpt – schläft, slap – schlaf(e), klopp – klopf (Schip – Schiff, Peper - Pfeffer)
t – s/z/tz: dat – das/dass, fat – fass, deit – tat (wat – was, tied – Zeit, sitten - sitzen)
k – ch: ick – ich (maken – machen, kind – Schwyzerdütsch and Southern Bavarian chind)
In the third phase of the second sound shift, the voiceless sounds d, b and g become t, p and k. Here we can see how the shifts of the first two phases lead to further shifts in the entire system: The places of the voiceless consonants have become free for a further shift. Some examples:
d – t: Middernacht – Mitternacht, Vader – Vater, Möder – Mutter, deid – tat,
b – p, g – k: As you can see, the third phase of the sound shift only affects the d. b and g remained unchanged throughout the German-speaking world in Middle High German.
p and k are mainly found in old Bavarian and partly in old Alemannic (especially in Schwyzerdütsch) written documents, today also in names: Birner/Pirner, Bauer/Pauer. Broadly speaking, it can be said that phase 1 was effective in the later Upper and Middle German-speaking areas, phases 2 and 3 only in the later Upper German-speaking areas (including Switzerland, Austria and South Tyrol) and phase 4 affected the entire German and Dutch-speaking region. The generally accepted border between Middle and Lower Germany, the maken-machen line, is called the Benrath line as it crosses the Rhine near the Düsseldorf suburb of Benrath. In contrast, the main border between Central and Upper Germany is called the Speyer line. It crosses the Rhine near the city of Speyer and is therefore located around 200 km further south than the Benrath Line. Sometimes this line is also called the Appel – Apfel line.
But why does the d sometimes become t, but not in other cases: dat – dass, de – der, dann – dann? The explanation can be found in the comparison with English: The corresponding English words are that, the, then. What is sometimes referred to as phase 4 shifted these sounds to /d/ in Old High German. This shift occurred so late that unshifted forms can still be found in the earliest Old High German texts and can therefore be dated to the 9th or 10th century.
Further consonant shifts occurred at the same time as the 2nd sound shift, which are also known from other languages:
v – b: Leevsten – Liebster. The West Germanic *ƀ (presumably pronounced [v]) became /b/ in Old High German between vowels and also after /l/. Again a comparison with English shows that this is a frequent phenomenon: half – halb, calf – Kalb; haben – have, geben – give, lieben – love, thief – Dieb (watch the change from th to d!). For speakers and learners of Spanish this closeness of v and b won’t be a surprise: the b and v in words like „beber“ and „vivir“ are pronounced identically.
sl – schl: slöpt / slap – schäft / schlafe: In Old High German, the s before k, l, m, n, sp, st, sw becomes sch.
Another shift regards the vowels, monophtongs and diphtongs.
i – ei (min – mein, bi – bei, lies – leise): This is a sound change that took place in High German during the transition from Middle High German to Modern High German. The diphthongs /iə/ in lieb, /uə/ in guot and /yə/ in brüeder became the long monophthongs /i:/, /u:/, and /y:/. You can remember the details of the monophthongization with the phrase "liebe gute Brüder" (Middle High German liebe guote brüeder). This development took place during the Early New High German period and mainly affected the Middle German dialects. In Swabian and Bavarian, the diphthongs have been partially preserved to this day.
There are also Old High German and Middle High German monophthongs that are now diphthongs. This difference can be seen in the Middle High German pronunciation of „mein neues Haus“. Whereas in Middle High German it was said mīn niuwez hūs (/mi:n ny:wəs hu:s/), in the modern standard language it is /main noyəs haus/. So the Middle High German long vowels /i:/, /u:/ and /y:/ became /ai/, /au/ and /oy/ in the course of Early New High German. Here too, Alemannic in particular did not undergo this development. White wine is /wiswi:/ in Baden. As a joke, it is claimed that there is only one word with two ei in Baden: Reisbrei.

The meaning of the song is easy to understand. It is about an appointment for a night-time tête-à-tête. The lyrical “I” of the song (a young man or woman) asks the love partner to sneak into the house with him or her when father and mother are already asleep and to knock softly on the chamber door (“Vader meent, Moder meent / Dat deit de Wint”). According to the North German writer Theodor Storm, it is “the cutest, most secretive love song in the world.” The new title in the “Niederdeutsches Liederbuch” published in 1884, “Finstern”, is interesting. This refers to a custom of young lovers, particularly widespread in Bavaria, to circumvent the strict moral standards of their parents, “Fensterln”. Due to the “Kuppelparagraph” (procuration law), which was in force until 1969, it was forbidden by law and also punishable to give someone the opportunity to fornicate. For this reason, many parents and employers (e.g. a farmer's family of a maid) refused to allow their daughter or employee to be alone with a „Bursche“ (boy) for any length of time. Therefore, the boy in love tried to visit his „Madl“ (maiden) by other clandestine means. If necessary, a ladder was used to get in through the bedroom window. Of course, it was particularly risky if the “intruder” was discovered, in which case the young man had to flee as quickly as possible.

[MoniqueMaRie]

Wow "Hannes Wader - Dat du min leefste büst" is difficult even for Germans

[Chrisinom]

Wow "Hannes Wader - Dat du min leefste büst" is difficult even for Germans

On the one hand, you're right. That's why I wrote it's for very advanced learners. On the other hand, it is a pretty simple song and probably not much more difficult for English speaking learners than for native learners. Niederdeutsch is much closer to English than standard German. And knowing some things about Niederdeutsch is helpful for all learners, especially for people like @gmads who like to learn systemstically. Just think about the numbers in German and English: two - zwei, three - drei, seven - sieben, ten - zehn, twelve - zwölf -,... teen -... zehn.... ty - zig. Very basic vocabulary with slight differences that you understand as soon as you know some basic rules of sound shift.

[Chrisinom]

Die Fantastischen Vier feat. Kadavar: Hallenbad

Lyrics: https://genius.com/Die-fantastischen-vi ... bad-lyrics
The Fantastische Vier's new studio album, now their eleventh since 1989, took a whole five years to produce. Having arrived in the German pop Olympus, at the same table as Udo Lindenberg, Nina Hagen and the Ärzte - that's probably how the Stuttgart-based band see themselves. And they certainly belong there. But “Long Player” doesn't even begin to sound as hungry and fresh as the hip-hop offspring Symba and Apsilon. Lots of words, little content. But well-made pop music that could clearly do more, as the last three tracks prove. The Berlin retro rock band Kadavar composed and recorded the instrumentals for three of the Fantastische Vier's songs. The result sounds unique and stylish and has nothing in common with crossover missteps. “Hallenbad” is the first of these three tracks.
From a language point oft view, the text is interesting. Part 1 consists of a list of questions about the reasons for behaviors, with the verbs in the infinitive. All of the verbs have prefixes. There are thousands of phrasal verbs in the English language, many of which have more than one meaning. Dealing with them can seem like a mammoth task. The same applies to German verbs with prefixes. Many oft the verbs in the text have more than one meaning.
• aufregen – upset s.o. More frequently, it is used as a reflexive verb: sich aufregen – to get upset
• aufgeben: give up, resign, give in/up, surrender; post (a letter, a parcel); for more meanings: https://www.duden.de/rechtschreibung/aufgeben
• ausgeben: spend (money); issue (shares, banknotes, a slogan, command). As a reflexive verb: sich ausgeben für jdn – pretend to be s.o.
• aushalten: stand, endure
• raushalten (colloquial for heraushalten): sich aus etwas raushalten – keep out of s.th.
• haushalten: economize, budget; housekeep (Haus isn’t a prefix but a noun, oft course)
• ausmachen: turn out (the light, the radio etc.), extinguish (a fire, candle, cigarette); agree on, arrange (appointment, date, meeting, agreement), for more meanings: https://www.duden.de/rechtschreibung/ausmachen
• ausschalten: turn off (motor, light, radio, etc.); eliminate (a source of error, a risk, a danger; a competitor, a rival)
• anstehen: wait in line, queu; be pending
• anstrengen: as a reflexive verb sich anstrengen – make an effort, try hard. Non-transitive: be stressful for s.o (work, illness).; take legal action, file a lawsuit against s.o.
• einhängen: hang up (the phone); hook in, hinge in, mount; link arms with s.o.
• reingehen (colloquial for hineingehen): enter, walk inside
• anfassen: touch, catch / take hold of s.th.
• beistehen: help, stand by
• einlassen: let in, admit; as a reflexive verb: mess around/about with s.o.; get into, engage in/with s.th.
• einsehen: see, realize, understand; view (letters, certificates, files), have an unobstructed view of
In the second half of part 1, Michi Beck suddenly starts to rap - similar to a canon - over his own rap, this time with nouns with prefixes, preceded by „kein(e):
• Eingang: entrance / entry
• Ausweg: way out
• Zugang: entrance, access
• Aussicht: view; prospect, chance
• Einseh(e)n: understanding, realization
• Pause: break, pause, rest – the only noun without a prefix.
The last two parts oft the „canon“ can be seen as a short question – answer dialogue: „Klein beigeben (?) - Im Traum nicht (!). „Klein beigebe“ is give in, cave in, eat humble pie, say/cry uncle, sing small. It’s a colloquialism, just as „in Traum nicht“ (also: „nicht einmal im Traum“) – not (even) in a dream.
To find out the context of these elliptical statements and what exactly they mean, the wider context of the song and the album as a whole must be considered. The hook initially remains somewhat cryptic. It begins with „Alter“ as a form of address “, a constant of youth language. The expression has nothing to do with the other person's age. It means something like buddy or friend, but can also be replaced by “Digga”. The message conveyed to the person being addressed is one of bewilderment in the face of an apparently hopeless situation: „gleich schnall(e) ich ab“. „Abschnallen“ is unstrap, unfasten; as a colloquialism without an objetct, it is used to say that s.o. is flabbergasted, staggered, thunderstruck. „Ich kann nicht mehr“, I cannot take it anymore.
To illustrate the hopelessness of the situation, it is first stated what it is not: “Das ist kein Hallenbad“ (This is not an indoor swimming pool). Most indoor swimming pools in Germany are public facilities run by local authorities. The “Deutsche Gesellschaft für das Badewesen” defines their function as follows: „Bathing and swimming are basic human needs. The experience of water - and public baths in particular - is therefore of great social importance, especially for health. Being able to swim is a basic cultural technique and can be essential for survival. Bathing not only cleanses the body but, in the opinion of many people, also the spirit and soul, which is expressed, for example, in the widespread religious ritual of baptism. From a profane perspective, the bath simply relaxes and creates a general sense of well-being. For swimmers, movement in the medium of water means mastering one of the four basic elements in the archaic sense, all the way to peak athletic performance.“
The indoor swimming pool as a metaphor for a people-friendly environment is therefore not an accurate description of the situation, on the contrary: “Das ist die Hölle hier“ (It's hell here). This needs no further explanation. A second definition follows immediately: „Das ist das Mittelmeer.“ (This is the Mediterranean). At first glance, this is very surprising. The Mediterranean? The travel companies' advertising promises sunny and mild temperatures all year round: Paradise bays, inviting sandy beaches and always a view of the crystal-clear water - it's not for nothing that the Mediterranean is a „Sehnsuchtsort“ (a place oft longing), one of the most popular travel destinations in Europe.
For many people, however, the Mediterranean is indeed a hell. In 2024 (as of October 27, 2024), at least 1,643 people died while fleeing across the Mediterranean. Since 2014, around 30,547 refugees have drowned in the Mediterranean. In 2016, over 5,000 people lost their lives on the sea route to Europe. And with regard to global warming (one of the causes of many people fleeing to Europe), the Mediterranean is also increasingly proving to be a kind of „Vorhölle“ (limbo): it is the sea that has warmed the fastest and it is increasingly the saltiest. In no other region of the world apart from the Arctic is climate change hitting as fast and as hard as in the Mediterranean, scientists warn. In the sea, on coasts and in cities, the basis of life is in danger. And this does not only apply to the Mediterranean countries: there is apparently a direct link between the rising water temperatures in the Mediterranean and the recent flood disasters in Europe as a result of heavy rainfall.
How do you react to this situation? The band’s point of view only becomes really clear in the outro of the song, which expresses a complete withdrawal from this world: „Ich geh(e) nicht raus (hinaus) in diese Welt.“ The following „Sie (die Welt) juckt mich wenig“ is another colloquialism for „das interessiert mich wenig“, „das ist mir egal“. „Wen juckt’s“ is a colloquialism, a good translation for „Who cares“? The consequence is a retreat into the private sphere: (“"Bin hier zu Haus", I'm at home here), into my own little kingdom (“...in meinem Bett bin ich der König“, in my bed I'm king). Any obligation to the outside world is rejected: “Und was auch immer kommt, wird nicht erledigt“ (And whatever comes will not be done). “Erledigen” is a word that feeds the stereotypical clichés of the hard-working German. Typical contexts for what is „erledigr“ (and not simply done, gemacht) are Hausaufgaben (homework), Formalitäten (formalities), Arbeit (work), tasks (Aufgaben). Fleiß (diligence), Pflichtbewusstsein (a sense of duty), Verlässlichkeit (reliability) and Pünktlichkeit (punctuality) are considered “typical German characteristics”.
When there is nothing more to „erledigen“, the German's attitude to life changes, as part 2 of the song shows:
• „Alles fällt ab“. „Abfallen“ is another phrasal verb with different meanings: fall down (leaves), fall off, fall behind (be worse, lag behind), etc. Here it is vanish (Furcht, Sorgen etc.).
• „Nie wieder zu viel“ (Never again too much)
• „Endlich kein Plan“: „Kein Plan“ or „Null Plan“ is a frequent colloquialism for „no idea, dunno“.
• „Allem entfliehn“: Escape from everything. The noun for this attitude towards reality is Eskapismus (escapism)
• „Leicht einen im Kahn“. „Einen im Kahn haben“ is colloquial for to be drunk, tipsy.
• „Keinen Termin“: If you don't have an appointment, you have no obligations.
A comparison illustrates this attitude to life: It’s like riding a bike, downhill, without a destination („Wie Fahrrad fahr'n, bergab, ohne Ziel).
At this point at the latest, one could argue that such an attitude does not do justice to today's crisis-ridden times. However, one should bear in mind that this is just one song from an album by people in their mid-fifties that deals with time, finiteness, the past and the future. Eight top-three albums, four of which even reached number one in the German charts, and a 35-year career together as a quartet: Die Fantastischen Vier made German-language hip-hop socially acceptable and radio-friendly, catapulting them into the pop Olympus. The Stuttgart natives have made themselves at home there for many, many years. Now they are releasing their eleventh studio album, their eleventh so-called long player. And that's exactly what they are: long players - old hands in the music business. And so it is only logical that they call their new album exactly that: “Long Player”.
The album preceding “Longplayer”, “Captain Fantastic”, contained the song “Endzeitstimmung” (Sense of Doom). The band had never been heard as politically as they were there. Smudo commented on this as follows: “The Fanta cosmos is shaped by the world we live in, and as times are very politically heated at the moment, the political also takes up more space on our album. We find that interesting ourselves, because we've never really seen ourselves as a political band. At most, we've taken up social issues and illustrated them with humor. But now it was the case that the topic of “creeping populism and the brutalization of debate culture” really annoyed us. And this anger led to the song “Endzeitstimmung”. It remains to be seen what will follow „Longplayer“.

[Chrisinom]

Herbert Grönemeyer: Currywurst

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/currywur ... usage.html
Name a German national dish other than roast pork with dumplings, other than knuckle of pork with sauerkraut, other than potato salad: What's missing? Currywurst, of course. The spicy snack was invented 75 years ago. In 1982, Herbert Grönemeyer created a musical monument to the currywurst as a comfort food and beer side dish - although neither the lyrics nor the music were his. He even admitted that he himself was not a big fan of currywurst. He is pretty much alone in Germany in this. More than 800 million curry sausages are eaten every year, an average of ten per inhabitant. And if a politician wants to demonstrate his closeness to the people during an election campaign, he will boldly pick up a plastic fork and have himself photographed at a stall with a Currywurst and chips. It is even said that former Chancellor Gerhard Schröder only won re-election in 2002 because he confessed to his favorite dish, currywurst. In culinary terms at least, this meant that the boss's comrade (one oft his nicknames was „Genosse der Bosse“) also remained the „Kumpel’s“ comrade. (A „Kumpel“ is a pitman, also and outside the Ruhr area a buddy,)
But how did it happen that Currywurst became such an icon of German cuisine? A dish with a very exotic, South Asian ingredient for German tastes? Writer Uwe Timm may have charmingly argued that the Currywurst was invented in Hamburg in his 1993 novella „Die Entdeckung der Currywurst“ (The Discovery of the Currywurst): His literary character Lena Brücker did not invent the Currywurst in the Hanseatic city in 1947. Two years later, that honor goes to the Berliner Herta Heuwer. The Currywurst has long since emancipated itself. Even in the land of patents and standards, allotment garden regulations and the beer purity law, it is not subject to any constraints; indeed, it has almost become a symbol of culinary individuality. The preparation, the weight and the degree of charring are just as little regulated or clearly defined as the question of whether with or without casing, hot or cold sauce or rather powder and ketchup. Truffles or gold leaf can also be found on it. It is usually served in a cardboard bowl, but sometimes also on porcelain, flanked by champagne. Top chefs such as Tim Mälzer and Frank Rosin publish their own ultimate Currywurst recipes. Today, Currywurst transcends salary and education classes.
Now to the song and, firstly, its language. It’s sung in „Ruhrdeutsch“. Ruhrdutsch, Ruhrgebietsdeutsch or Ruhrpottisch (also known as Ruhrpöttisch or Kumpelsprache in the region) is the name given to the oral language spoken in the Ruhr area (also known as Kohlenpott in the region, later also Ruhrpott or Pott). Most linguists classify it as a regiolect. It is a variety of High German that emerged at the end of the 19th century. It shows influences (substrate) of the old Low Franconian (or Dutch) dialects on the Lower Rhine and the Low German dialects in Westphalia. Here are some characteristics of Ruhrdeutsch:
• The large number of contractions is typical of Ruhr German: Gehste (gehst du), in’ne (in die), kommste (kommst du), vonne (von die), gem’se (geben Se), bisse / biste (bist du), brauchse (brauchst du), trinkste (trinkst du), gibt’n (gibt einen), auf’m (auf dem), auf’er (auf der), hörma (hör mal), krich se (kriege sie), bist’n (bist ein). These contractions are also found in other dialects, but not with the same frequency.
• On the phonetic level, -s remains -t in the final sound, consistently for marking the neuter gender as in wat, dat, et, kleinet etc. for High German was, das/dass, es, kleines.
• On a grammatical level, the typical Low German and Dutch case uncertainty can be found, as is also the case in Berlin dialect. The distinction between dative and accusative disappears. An example from the song: Kommste von'ne Schicht (von die Schicht instead of von der Schicht).
• Other peculiarities that are not found in the text are of a grammatical nature. The use of “tun” as an auxiliary verb and carrier of the person ending or the “am + infinitive” form for the construction of progressive forms is also widespread in northern Germany (also in the Dutch dialects): ich bin am lesen, ich tu dich dat nich geben. The latter is on the wane in Ruhr German.
A grammatical peculiarity, which is not dialectal, is the substitution of a conditional or temporal subordinate clause by inversion: “Gehste inne Stadt” is the same as “Wenn du in die Stadt gehst”. Other examples from the song: “Kommste von'ne Schicht” – „Wenn du von der Schicht (shift) kommst“, „Bisse richtig down“ – „Wenn du richtig down bist“. „Biste dann richtig blau“ – „Wenn du dann richtig blau bist“ (Blau sein in German is be drunk, not sad), „Rutscht dat Ding dir aus“ – „Wenn das Ding dir ausrutscht“.
On the other hand, the use of “als wie” (line 6) is wrong here, the correct use would be als. In colloquial speech, however, it is used quite frequently, regardless of the region. „Ne Currywurst“ (line 11) is typical of spoken colloquial German, as well as the false accusative „Mein (instead oft meinen) Schwager“ in line 8. „Kerl (or rather Ker in Ruhrdeutsch) is „Mann, Mensch“.
The song reflects a typical element of Ruhrpott culture in the mining era. There used to be a „Kneipe“ (in High German: Gast-und Schankstätte) in front of every colliery, in front of every steelworks and on almost every corner. Miners in particular, with their dry throats after an exhausting 8-hour shift at a depth of 1000 meters and high temperatures, longed for their „Pilskes“ (Pils, pilsner; the High German diminutive form -chen is -ken or -sken, plural -es in Ruhrdeutsch) “nacher Schicht“ (after the shift). Sometimes they stood in rows of four in front of the bar after their wages had been deducted. The landlord could hardly keep up. However, it didn't take long for the miners' wives to pick up their men, who were happy to drink, before they drank away all their wages again, as the song makes clear: The protagonist of the song urges his brother-in-law Willi to go home, „weil ich kriegse („I’ll cop it, get in trouble) wenn ich so nach Hause komm'“. Work in the coalmines and steelworks was hard. It used to be called not „Arbeit“ but „Maloche“ (hard work, drudgery). Miners from Upper Silesia who immigrated in the course of industrialization at the end of the 19th century made „malochen“ (verb) widespread, especially in the coal mining areas of the Ruhr region. Today, the expression (often used in the construction am Malochen sein) is typical for the Ruhr region and socially typical for miners. The word itself goes back to the Hebrew מְלָאכָה (melā(')ḵā(h) - meläkä), “work”,[1] in Ashkenazi pronunciation malōchō.
Still today you can usually buy chips and currywurst no more than 10 minutes' walk from the shaft and the apartment. Fries stalls are not just simple snack bars, so it's not just about a quick meal. Fries stalls have become social, nostalgic, cultural places. They are a form of memory. Unlike the silent and monumental witnesses to the times of coal, steel and hard physical labor, which can now be visited as amusement parks,the stalls are developing against the backdrop oft structural change, the stalls are developing into a place of living Ruhr area culture.

[MoniqueMaRie]

I've always wondered whether any of Herbert Grönemeyer's songs can ever be understandable for someone who isn't a native German speaker.
I don't just mean linguistically, but also because of the emotions he conveys in his songs.
Grönemeyer's lyrics always use language in a very unique and unusual way.

[Chrisinom]

Maybe, but in this case Grönemeyer wrote neither the lyrics nor the music. The lyrics of the song were written by Horst-Herbert Krause and Diether Krebs, the music by former WWF Club presenter Jürgen Triebel. Like Grönemeyer, Krebs and Triebel both worked at Schauspielhaus Bochum at the time.
Grönemeyer chose the song because it was written by his producer at the time, Triebel. He found the lyrics in Ruhrpott dialect funny and he didn't have enough German-language material for his new album from 1982 anyway. He had just celebrated his breakthrough as an actor with the film "Das Boot" and had also been trying his hand at pop singing for some time. Now he was desperately looking for songs to complete his third album.

[Chrisinom]

Ralf Zuckowski: In der Weihnachtsbäckerei

Lyrics: https://av.rwth-aachen.de/day-18-in-the ... as-bakery/
The other day at the Advent singing in the kindergarten, it became clear once again that Rolf Zuckowski's „In der Weihnachtsbäckerei“ can rightly be awarded the status of a 'new folk song' - at least that's how the Wikipedia article, which even exists specifically for the song, classifies it. The children also eagerly sang along to the other well-known Christmas carols, but the enthusiasm was at its greatest and the volume at its highest with „Weihnachtsbäckerei“, just like every year. The general confidence in the lyrics was also particularly noticeable here. What is the special appeal of this song?
Before answering this question, we should first clarify what is being baked. The song tells the process on how ro bake Christmas cutout cookies, in standard German „Plätzchen“ with different regional variants: In central Germany and Austria, cookies are called Kekse, in German-speaking Switzerland biscuits, in dialect Güetzi, Guetzli, Chrömli and similar, in southern Germany also Platzerl, Brötle, Bredla, Loible/Loibla or Guatl/Gutsle/Guatsle (for sweets in general). Children love these cookies because they are „lecker“ (delicious); hence the noun “Leckerei“ (treat).
The fact that the lyrics are written in rhyming couplets throughout makes them easy to remember. The catchy and snappy chorus melody is easy to belt out in a choir. In the midst of the five- and seven-syllable lines, the - semantically appropriate - longer, nine-syllable line “eine riesengroße Kleckerei” can be celebrated at length. The adjective „riesengroß“ contains a comparison („groß wie ein Riese“, big like a giant). „Kleckerei“ is the noun derived from the verb „kleckern“, to spill and more generally, make a mess. Responsible for the mess “Zwichen Mehl und Milch“ (between flour and milk“ are the little ”Knilche”. „Knilch“ is used mostly in Northern and Northwestern Germany and usually has negative connotations („unangenehmer Mensch oder Kerl“, unpleasant person or guy). The word isn’t used frequently anymore, but it also (like here) refers to a small and slender child that has got a chip on his shoulder and is rarely up to no good. Furthermore, “Knilch” is an affectionate term for the boy next door or the upstart in the company.
The melodic and rhythmic change to the verses is as clear as it is effective. Here, individual steps of the cookie baking process are sung about, starting with the search for a recipe in the first stanza: „Wo ist das Rezept geblieben“ (Where has the recipe gone?) and, with a close rhyme, „Wer hat das Rezept / Verschleppt?“ (Who displaced the recipe). The following short dialog is funny for children: Nobody wants to have done it. Without the recipe, they have to manage the situation („Na, dann müssen wir es packen“). „Packen“ here is a colloquial expression for "Ich schaffe das nicht" when you feel desperate and overwhelmed by a task or problem that you are working on. The solution for the problem is „Einfach frei nach Schnauze backen“. „Frei (nach) Schnauze“ means without preparation; at your own discretion, without precise instructions or similar, by guess and by gosh. Consequently, the oven is preheated: „Schmeißt den Ofen an (oh ja!) / Und ran!“ „Schmeißen“ is „werfen“. „Anwerfen“ / Anschmeißen“ is turn on, fire up. „Ran“ is play up (in sports), get to work in general (As a phrase: „Ran an den Speck“).
The second stanza is about the preparation and mixing of the ingredients. The ingredients mentioned in the song are Schokolade (chocolate), Zucker (sugar), Nüsse (nuts), Zimt (cinnamon) and Succade (candied lemon peel; I’ve never heard the word myself (Wikipedia says it’s antuquated), I know it as „Zitronat“, but that doesn’t rhyme with Schokolade. The rhyme word for the last ingredient „Zimt“ is „das stimmt“ (That’s true, right). If you say „Stimmt so“ when paying the check at a restaurant when you want the waiter to keep the change. The last three ingredients „Butter, Mehl and Milch“ must be mixed („verrühren“), not without tasting the dough („Teig“). The last ingredient is an egg („Ei“) which is thrown into the dough but misses the mark: „Vorbei“ (wide in ball games).
Finally, stanza three deals with kneading, cutting out and baking the cookies.The verses here, like in the other stanzas, are partly dialogic and pointed, which is supported by the staggered line length. In this way, the humor of the song comes into its own - especially in connection with the empty spaces left in the text or the less explicit content: The recipe, for example, cannot be found, as the aim is to “bake [to] freely by snout”; the egg does not come by, but it is thrown wide, so it probably just breaks or claps next to it; and here, the fingers are obviously dirty and not “clean”, which is not simply made clear by a 'no' as a rhyming answer to the question in question, but can be inferred from the rude insult “Du Schwein“ (You pig!). The final gag is also favorably emphasized by the stanza structure, when the cookies fail at the end to make matters worse: „Sind die Plätzchen, die wir stechen, / erstmal auf den Ofenblechen, / warten wir gespannt –/ verbrannt.“The cookies are cut out with molds, placed on the oven tray and heated in the oven, but due to the lack of a recipe, the temperature is too high and the cookies are burnt.
The song presents pre-Christmas cookie baking as a comedy full of mishaps and blissful failure. The journey is the reward, and amusing chaos is preferred to a good result. The (small) bakers are free of any performance requirements. Baking here is relievingly not work, but play. Not to be underestimated in their appeal to children are certainly the transgressions that are committed on a linguistic and content level. In the chorus, there is cheeky talk of “so manche[m] (many a) Knilch”, which is surpassed by the use of “Schwein” as a swear word. If you identify with the kind of baking sung about here, you will of course mutate into such an uncouth type yourself, who is not very delicate in his approach (“Kleckerei”), is quick to whistle at recipes (“frei nach Schnauze”), is after all kinds of sweet things (“Leckerei”; “Schokolade, / Zucker, Honig und Sukkade, [...] Zimt"), nibbles on the dough and in the end doesn't even manage to make proper cookies because that's not the main thing for him. „Kleckern, nicht klotzen“ is the song’s motto! „Klotzen, nicht kleckern“ is a German saying that means to think big, to not take half measures. The reversal of the idiom shows a very atypical attitude towards the stereotypes of the hard-working and dutiful German: Think small, not big.
Rolf Zuckowski dates the creation of the song to the Christmas season of 1986, and it was released in 1987 on the album „Winterkinder“. During his last major television show appearance in 2012, In der Weihnachtsbäckerei naturally took center stage. In various cover versions, the song is given a pop twist. Silliness and Schlager (at least in the version that has dominated for several decades) do not mix. In Michelle's well-behaved housewife variation (2002), for example, “Du Schwein!” is replaced by “Na fein.”. Perhaps those responsible feared that the children would otherwise have appeared too rebellious to the target audience. In Helene Fischer's recent version, the song is apparently given an aesthetic upgrade through more elaborate instrumentation and in an effort to achieve more artistic singing, which, however, does not really fit in with the childishly anarchic content and does away with the cheerful (actually harmless anyway) disobedience at the expense of any wit. In this way, the bakery rebels become cute and unskillful little children:

[Chrisinom]

Konstantin Wecker / Hannes Wader: Sage nein!

Lyrics: https://genius.com/Konstantin-wecker-sage-nein-lyrics
Lyrics English: https://genius.com/Genius-english-trans ... ion-lyrics
Violent riots broke out in Chemnitz on August 26 and 27 and on September 1, 2018 in particular following an altercation on the fringes of the Chemnitz city festival (August 24 to 26), in which one man was fatally stabbed and two others seriously injured. Right-wing and far-right groups had called for demonstrations following news of the suspected perpetrators' migration background or refugee status. As a result, organized right-wingers and neo-Nazis attacked actual or alleged migrants, counter-demonstrators, police officers, press representatives and uninvolved passers-by as well as a Jewish restaurant.
Musician, songwriter, composer, actor and author Konstantin Wecker has been fighting the threat of fascism with his songs for 40 years. However, the incidents in Chemnitz have made it clear to the Munich singer-songwriter that his home country is not affected by a shift to the right, but by a resurgence of Nazi ideology: “I am shocked to discover that my older songs against right-wing violence, xenophobia and inhumanity are more topical than ever,” says the singer and avowed pacifist, who grew up with the phrase: “Fascism is not an opinion, it is a crime“. The song reads as an intertextual reference to Wolfgang Borchert's prose text "Dann gibt es nur eins!" (Then there is only one thing to do) from 1947. (https://www.nationaltheater-weimar.de/d ... r_eins.pdf The recurring call to “Say no!” became a much-quoted motto in the peace movement and is often used as the title of the prose text.
The text in the 1993 version consists of four verses and a double repetition of the refrain. Most of the verses have eight syllables, which are linked by rhyming couplets. The lines of text that do not have eight syllables mostly stand out due to their brevity, which usually serves to emphasize them. This is made particularly clear by the imperative “Sage Nein!”, which can be found at the end of every verse. „Sage Nein“ is an atypical song for Wecker, whose language here is characterized less by poetic openness than by catchy, unmistakable messages that are easy to sing along to. This becomes particularly clear in the live performances, which reveal that Wecker tries to involve his audience by frequently repeating the phrase “Sage Nein!”.
Thematically, the song moves within a resistance narrative, as already announced in the title. This narrative is also central to the rest of the lyrics and includes resistance against racism, everyday sexism and the denial of the Nazi past to justify fascist tendencies and ideologies. Important core motifs here are the active resistance of the civilian population, which is directly addressed in the chorus by mentioning various occupational groups:
• Penner: A „Penner“ is a bum, a down and out person. It’s a a colloquial, pejorative word for „Obdachloser, Wohnsitzloser“ (homeless person), derived from the verb „pennen“, colloquial for „schlafen“ (sleep).
• Sänger: The singer is on the same level as the „Penner“ in the list.
• This is repeated in the next line of verse, where the „Bänker“ stands right next to the „Müßiggänger“. Bänker is the Germanized spelling for banker. Bänker/banker is a colloquial word. Depending on the context, in standard German you can say „Bankfachmann“ / „Bankkaufmann“, „Bankberater(in)“, „Bankangestellte(r)“, Bankberater(in)“ or simply „Mitarbeitende(r) einer Bank“. Another word with a slightly different meaning is „Bankier“, pronounced similar to the French word it is derived from, „banquier“. „Bankier“ usually refers to a specific person in the bank: the owner or possibly a member of the board of directors.
• „Müßiggänger“: an idle. The root oft the noun is the adjective „müßig“, idle. The noun for being idle is „Müßiggang“. In colloquial language, „Müßiggang“ (idleness) - in contrast to „Muße“ (leisure) - has a negative connotation as a vice and is usually associated with laziness. This assessment is expressed in the saying “Müßiggang ist aller Laster Anfang“ (Idleness is the beginning of all vices). Kierkegaard put it like this: “Idleness as such is by no means a root of evil; on the contrary, it is a truly divine life, if only one does not get bored.” Kierkegaard put it like this: “Idleness as such is by no means a root of evil; on the contrary, it is a truly divine life, if only one does not get bored.”
• Priester: In general, a „Priester“ is Mediator between God and man, holder of a religious office endowed with special divine powers, who has received a ritual ordination and is authorized to perform special ritual acts. More specifically, it is a Catholic clergyman who has been ordained to the priesthood. There are no „Priester“ in the Protestant (Lutheran) Church. Ordination to the priesthood is a sacrament of the Catholic Church. Martin Luther spoke of the “priesthood of all believers”. “Pastor” is a job title. The word is Latin and means “shepherd”. „Pastor“ is the general title for clergy in parish ministry - regardless of denomination. Pastors therefore exist among both Protestant Christians and Catholics and the same office is meant. On a colloquial level, it is first of all “Moin, Herr Pastor” in northern Germany and “Grüß Gott, Herr Pfarrer! “ in southern Germany.
• The job titles, including „Lehrer“ (teacher) in addition to those mentioned, are introduced in the list with “Ob als ...”. The meaning of this “ob als ...” is that it doesn't matter whether you are a priest or a teacher, a housewife („Hausfrau“), a street cleaner („Straßenkehrer“) . The last two groups mentioned in the refrain refer not to jobs but to age groups: „Ob du sechs bist oder hundert“. Thus everybody is meant, from the child to the old people („Greis*in“ in German). Everyone, society as a whole should fight against inhumane ideas. It is not enough to be shocked or merely amazed by this; a clear indication of the importance of this refrain is the climax of the final phrase („tobe, zürne, misch dich ein“ – rage, get angry, get involved), which vividly illustrates how important not only the inner attitude but above all the actual action, the interference of the civilian population in political matters, is to the artist.
The most important core concept of the song, however, is the clear and distinct “no” that runs through the entire text and which demands resistance in each of the situations described. This theme of resistance is divided between the individual stanzas, with each stanza addressing thematic aspects of resistance. The recurring sentence structure (with the exception of the second stanza) is a conditional sentence structure: “If ..., then”: In an inhumane situation, one must not remain silent, but must do something about it.
The first two stanzas deal with impending return of unashamed („unverhohlen“: „Verhehlen“ is conceal, dissemble) nazi style racism in racist nazi songs. Whenever folk songs are sung today, there is always a hint of the brown past, because the Nazis misused German traditional songs. The music writer Richard Eichenauer, for example, praised folk songs in his 1932 book „Musik und Rasse“ (Music and Race) as “sources of strength of the Nordic musical spirit” and called for a “recovery” of the art of music. The appropriate place to display racist attitudes, including in the form of jokes about Jews („Judenwitze) and mockery of human rights („Menschenrechte“), is the pub („Kneipe“), behind the bar („hinterm = hinter dem Tresen“), where the old and new Nazis in loud tones („in lauten Tönen“) drunkenly indulge in their stupidity („saufend ihrer Dummheit frönen“). „Saufen“ like „fressen“ is used with animals, especially bigger ones, but also for humans drinking and eating excessively. „Frönen“ (with dative noun) is indulge in s.th.. It is used quite often in the phrase „dem / einem Laster frönen“ (wallow in vice). These verses refer to the right-wing extremist attacks in Germany, for example in Rostock-Lichtenhagen in August 1992 and later in other German cities such as Hoyerswerda, where the first right-wing extremist pogrom of the post-war period was carried out in 1991. It is not only the right-wing extremist acts that are problematic here, but also the lack of protest from the middle of society, which in part cheered on the attacks but largely stood idly by and the lack of a response from the state.
The following two lines (“Denn am Deutschen hinterm Tresen / Muss nun mal die Welt genesen”) allude to a speech by Kaiser Wilhelm II, calling on the world to become more German. In the updated version of the first verse from 2003, Wecker also describes a clear rejection of war euphoria in relation to the Iraq war, writing: „Wenn sie dann in lauten Tönen / Einzig ihrer Machtgier frönen / Denn am kriegerischen Wesen / Muss nun mal die Welt genesen“.By ironizing the narrative of world recovery through war, Wecker's basic pacifist attitude becomes clear
Consequently, the second stanza is about the denial of the Holocaust by right wing extremists (embodied by some „Herr Wichtig“) craving for recognition. What these people say is made ridiculous by the verb “faseln“ (to blather). Unfortunately, this attitude is not just an isolated opinion in the 80s, but also today; it is well known (man kennt sie „zur Genüge“). The denial of historical circumstances to justify and glorify right-wing extremist deeds and thoughts, was practised by Ursula Haverbeck, who was repeatedly accused and convicted for statements such as: “[t]he Holocaust is the greatest and most enduring lie in history”. Another prominent example of a “Herr Wichtig” is the SS man and Holocaust denier Karl M., who died in 2019. He was involved in a massacre in the northern French town of Ascq in 1944, in which soldiers of the 12th SS Panzer Division shot a total of 86 inhabitants. He did not regret this deed until his death. With the formulation “"rückt ... die Geschichte wieder richtig“” , Wecker primarily recasts the word “richtig” by semantically reinterpreting its meaning in an ironic manner typical of Wecker and by marking „Herr Wichtig“ as a liar when he speaks of the Auschwitz lie. Wecker does not shy away from drastic formulations either, when he sings at the end of the second verse “show this stupid pig: / Say no!”
In the third verse, Wecker turns to everyday sexism against women, which he summarizes in the following images: “Und wenn aufgeblasene Herren / dir galant den Weg versperren, / ihre Blicke unter Lallen / nur in deinen Ausschnitt fallen” (Wecker 1993). „Aufgeblasen“ is the past participle of „aufblasen“, inflate, pump up“. The use of this metaphor makes the outward appearance of these “galiant” gentlemen clear. Their drunken slurring („lallen“, which also means to babble, prattle) makes it clear that they are anything but „Herren“ but lecherous old men who just stare at women’s decoleetés (The French word decolleté is also used in German). Chauvinistic self-image appears as a demonstration of power, which is linked to the associated attitude towards the social role of women: Having a wifeis for them something like keeping a domestic animal; the verb „sich halten“ is used in this context. ( “for woman is only worth something / as she once was - at home and hearth” (ibid.). He thus refers to a narrative of an image of women that was established by the National Socialists. This narrative states that women are not made for political or other public work, but instead take on the role of housewife and mother for demographic and biological reasons, thereby supporting the national community („Volksgemeinschaft“ – like so many word combinations with „Volk“ contaminated by the Nazi regime).
Racism and discrimination based on sexuality in schools is also a central point in Wecker's social analysis. There they slag gays („lästern über Schwule“) and let their racial hatred towards black people be felt („spüren lassen“). What is particularly noteworthy about the verses: “Teachers, instead of dying out, / Color Germany brown again” is that they seem to update themselves, as is clear from the republication in 2018 without any necessary textual changes, just think of the Thuringian AfD chairman Björn Höcke in his work as a history teacher. He is an example from the current discourse on the shift in what can be said („Verschiebung des Sagbaren“), but also, above all, a key example from the discourse on the obligatory task of teachers to reflect critically and not to pass on their own, possibly false, representations to pupils. A possible current point of reference f to the authoritative structure criticized by Wecker from 2019 is a reporting portal for pupils and parents initiated by the AfD, which has been banned due to data protection regulations. According to the AfD, it should be possible for teachers who make political statements, especially those critical of the AfD, to be reported. Fittingly, Wecker also addresses people of younger generations in the song („in deiner Schule“) and calls on them with a “„hab dann keine Angst zu schrein: / Sage Nein!” to raise their voices even when they are seemingly inferior, such as in a teacher-pupil dependency relationship.
The chorus follows at the end of the song, which answers the class question with an ideal idea of the absolute equality of all people by repeating the various professions and lifestyles. The final threefold repetition of the title phrase “Say no!” emphatically ends the song by addressing and encouraging the audience to sing along and clearly declare their support for a world free of oppression.

[Chrisinom]

Reinhard May: Über den Wolken

https://www.letras.com/reinhard-mey/165 ... glish.html

Reinhard Mey is one of the best-known representatives of the German singer-songwriter scene. Between 1967 and 2020, he released 28 German studio albums and was awarded the Echo for his life's work in 1992. Reinhard Mey's countless songs cover (almost) every conceivable theme and style of the genre, but without ever taking them to extremes. In his biography „Was ich noch zu sagen hätte“, Mey was once asked by his interviewer what he had not yet written a song about. The artist replies: “About the genetically modified tomato, about silicone implants, about the budget debate, about the old doormat, about children's birthdays, about the bark beetle plague”. „Über den Wolken“ is probably Reinhard Mey's most famous and at the same time most poetic song, which has loyal fans not only among admirers and lovers of flying boxes.
The lyrics of the song are basically very easy to understand: The speaker watches an airplane take off and follows it for a while with his eyes and thoughts. Standing in the rain himself, he imagines how the plane will soon break through the cloud cover and see the sun. By detaching themselves from the ground, the occupants of the plane will gain distance from their everyday worries and experience a tremendous feeling of freedom. With a wistful feeling and a longing to be able to fly towards the sun himself, he remains on the ground - at least for this time - in the rain and presumably also weighed down with some sorrow and a number of worries. In the third and final narrative verse of the song, the airplane has disappeared from the horizon and is now only audible. The singer takes his eyes off the sky and turns to objects in the immediate vicinity, which do, however, give him a small amount of comfort: Coffee is being brewed in the air traffic control hut, which adds a little warmth and coziness to the nasty weather, and the puddles on the ground reflect the sky.
The beginning of the first verse sounds very technical: The prevailing wind direction („ Wind Nordost“) and the runway of the airplane („Null drei“) are announced. In meteorology or nautical science, the wind direction is specified either as one of eight or sixteen cardinal directions or as an angle to north. In station reports (observations), the wind direction is given in sixteen 22.5° steps (Nord (N), Nordnordost (NNE), Nordost (NE), Ostnordost (ENE), Ost (E), etc(. This is followed by a series of sensory impressions when an airplane takes off: the observer hears the plane's engines, sees the plane pass by and feels the asphalt shake under his feet.
What remains unclear from the beginning is the location of the speaker and the perspective of his sensory perceptions. Where exactly is this speaker standing? Right next to the runway or outside the airfield? Is the airfield where the described event takes place a small airfield (as indicated by the “Luftaufsichtsbaracke" (air traffic control barracks) or a large, perhaps even military airport where the kind of aircraft that can actually shake the tarmac ("den Asphalt zum Beben bringen") take off?
So as not to give the wrong impression here: In my opinion, the song is absolutely „right“ as a poetic whole. It evokes a dense, suggestive atmosphere and makes it easy for listeners to identify with the singer's impressions and reflections. Linguistically, Reinhard Mey is certainly one of the most talented German songwriters alongside Franz Josef Degenhard. The pictorial representation of the start makes this clear: The plane taking off passes the observer ... like an arrow („wie ein Pfeil zieht sie vorbei“), the noise roars („röhrt“) in his ears, the wet asphalt trembles („der nasse Asphalt bebt“, the rain dusts (“staubt”) like a veil („wie ein Schleier“). The tension built up in these three pictorial representations is released when the airplane takes off. This is emphasized by the change in the metrical foot from trochee to dactyl and the reduction from four to three beats.: „Bis sie abhebt und sie schwebt / der Sonne entgegen“. The airplane is ascribed a life of its own; human beings are not perceived from this external perspective, the mechanical drive transforms into self-acting levitation.
This also renders the question of the observer's point of view and the type of airfield on a poetic level obsolete. The perceptions of the speaker in the song are an amalgam of the sensory impressions of a pilot and a ground observer; the latter is exposed to the rain spray with his own body, the former experiences the enormous power of the engines and the acceleration of the aircraft at close range, while the distant onlooker perceives these movements of smaller civilian aircraft as comparatively sedate processes.
Verse 8 states that the plane that has taken off is flying “der Sonne entgegen“ (towards the sun). In the context of this song, this certainly means only good things: the plane and its occupants leave the nasty rainy weather behind them and - at least in the observer's opinion - their everyday sorrows („alle Ängste, alle Sorgen“) too. At this point, however, notorious readers and trained literary scholars can hardly resist thinking of the mythical aviators Daedalus and Icarus, the younger of whom foolishly came a little too close to the sun. Reinhard Mey must of course have had the Icarus story in mind, even though he avoids any allusions beyond the sun motif in Über den Wolken. However, his next studio album (1975) was to be entitled „Ikarus“ and also contain a corresponding song.
The chorus starts with a change in the song’s rhythm. The first line of chorus (“Über den Wolken”) initially takes up the meter of the last line of the first stanza, but without the anacrusis to the dactyl (“Sonne entgegen”). Whereas the verse of the first stanza was basically a four-footed trochaic, the rest of the chorus has no continuous meter and is closer to prose. Accordingly, the poetically dense depiction of the take-off of an airplane is followed by a general reflection on flying. It emphasizes the feeling of freedom that supposedly comes with flying. The song is about a „freedom from“, not a „freedom for“. The negative „things“ that the pilot and fellow passengers leave behind when they take off from the ground and pierce the dark clouds also deserve a comment: These are unspecified private worries and concerns, not socio-political evils or restrictions on freedom. Things that seem important in everyday life are trivial and small in a cosmic context. The final two lines of the refrain contain the only impure rhyming couplet in the song (erscheint - klein). This brings the chiasmus of the internal rhyme (“groß und wichtig” – “nichtig und klein”) to the fore.
The second verse describes how the plane disappears into the sky. The plane climbs up to the clouds, “scales” them. The translation of this verb as “climb” is inaccurate, “crest” better emphasizes the stylistic height of the text. The lights of the airplane gradually („nach und nach“ disappear into the clouds, in Reinhard Mey's elevated style, they blur into the grey of the rain („im Regengrau verwschwimmen“). The eye is no longer able to capture the airplane, now just a tiny dot („jenen winzigen Punkt“), which is experienced as a loss („verloren“). The only thing that remains is the distant monotonous hum of the engines.
Finally, in the third verse, the airplane is no longer perceptible, everything is silent. The singer, soaked by the rain, makes his way home, still dwelling on his experience. Rain, already a secondary motif in the opening verse, where it is metaphorically turned into dust by the sun's rays, replaces the sun as the central symbol. The upward direction of the first two verses turns into a downward movement towards the puddles left behind by the rain.The only sensory perception left is the smell of coffee from the air traffic control hut (One critic has commented that Reinhard Mey should be awarded the Hölderlin Prize for his rhyming couplet Jacke/Luftaufsichtsbaracke.) But the singer's ground-facing gaze is diverted skywards again by the puddles of rain. The sky is still cloudy, of course, and the sun is still hiding behind the clouds and will only show itself to the plane as soon as it breaks through the cloud cover. But a little petrol in the puddles conjures up the colors of the rainbow in the reflections, evoking the powerful symbol of hope and reconciliation familiar to many cultures around the world. Wherever it appears, the rainbow promises us that the worst is behind us and that the bridge on which we can climb to heaven has already been built. The freshly brewed coffee comes just in time.

[Chrisinom]

Udo Lindenberg: Mein Ding

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/mein-ding-my-thing.html
Udo Lindenberg, together with Herbert Grönemyer, is to German-language rock what Reinhard Mey is to singer-songwriter music, Udo Jürgens to German Schlager and Fanta 4 to German hip hop. Born on May 7, 1946 in Gronau, Westphalia, the son of a plumber, he began his career as a drummer. He received his first drum kit in 1958 and by the age of fifteen was already drumming in various jazz bands, mainly in northern Germany, while also working as a waiter. Extensive years of traveling through France and North Africa were followed by engagements in various German jazz and rock bands from 1968 onwards. In 1969, Lindenberg founded his first own band,“Free Orbit“, which was still musically on the borderline between jazz and rock. In 1970, he began working with Klaus Doldinger, which was to become a formative experience for him. In 1971, he had his first record production with the jazz-rock formation „Emergency“, which featured him as a singer, but still with English lyrics. Lindenberg's first German-language rock production, “Thumbs in the Wind”, was released in 1972, breaking with the widespread prejudice at the time that authentic rock music was only possible in English. The breakthrough came the following year with the „Panik-Orchester“, founded for the production of “Andrea Doria”. Year after year, albums were released that led to spectacular sales figures and were accompanied by ever more elaborate stage productions.
In the early 1980s, he began to speak out clearly on political issues such as xenophobia, right-wing radicalism, armaments and peace and to campaign vehemently against the burgeoning right-wing radicalism in the Federal Republic of Germany. His song lyrics also became more political, without losing his characteristic mumbled brashness. Lindenberg's great achievement is undoubtedly to have opened up the German language for a committed form of rock music with an unmistakable linguistic gesture and provocative, contemporary lyrics in the face of the unrestricted dominance of English. Things went quiet around the musician in the 1990s. After receiving the Echo Award for his life's work in 1992, he seemed to be at the end of his rock star career. But then he made a sensational comeback in 2008 with his album „Stark wie Zwei“. From 2011 at the latest, however, a veritable udomania broke out that continues to this day. At MTV Unplugged, he performed old and new songs with German pop stars such as Clueso, Jan Delay and Inga Humpe. All of this was topped by “Komet”, the song that Udo Lindenberg recorded with Apache 207 in 2023. The song remained at the top of the single chats for a whole 17 weeks, making it the longest-lasting German hit ever.
For all those who want a deeper insight into the early days of this extraordinary musician's career, the biopic „Lindenberg! Mach dein Ding“ by Hermine Huntgeburth is perfect. It tells the story of how Lindenberg, as a young drummer from the Westphalian provinces, held on to his dream despite a number of setbacks until he finally made his breakthrough in 1973 in Hamburg with his band „Panikorchester“. „Dein Ding“ obviously refers to his great hit from 2008, „Mein Ding“. The refrain oft the song explains what it means to do one’s thing:
• „Ich geh’ meinen Weg“, pursue one’s goal, one’s own interest
• „Egal, was die ander’n sagen / labern“, not caring about the opinion of others. „Labern“ is colloquial for talk eloquently about often irrelevant things, use a lot of superfluous words.
• „Was die Schwachmaten einem so raten, das ist egal“:“Schwachmat is a dimwit, lamebrain, or a wimp. „Schwachmatikus“ or „Schwachmatiker“, today mainly Schwachmat, is a joking expression that originally (early 19th century) comes from the student language, but was later adopted into general usage.
Individual autonomy is a constantly recurring topos for many songwriters. Independent of external influences, the speaker's ego, it is often suggested, “macht sein Ding”, “geht seinen eigenen Weg” or “macht seine Sache”. Self-determination, as is usually conveyed between the lines, makes a person particularly authentic and, because it is detached from contextual restrictions, particularly innovative. Lindenberg's lyrics are strongly autobiographical and he uses his song to set his own life story to music (in a highly summarized form, of course). There are numerous stages in Lindenberg's life that have already become part of the legend surrounding the artist, such as his fondness for the Hotel Kempinski.
Even as a teenager, Lindenberg dreamed of living in a prestigious hotel like the Hotel Kempinski, as the first verse shows: In a typical Lindenberg pose, he squats (“locker”, easy, of course) on the lawn in front of the “white castle“ that the Hotel Kempinski appears to him to be, and he immediately realizes: Someday, I'll live there, in the presidential suite, with all the comforts. The drumsticks in his hand indicate how this goal is to be achieved: Lindenberg was a drummer in various bands before his solo career. The alternative is not very tempting: sweating away („malochen“, colloquially for doing physically hard, heavy work) at the Blom and Voss shipyard, living in a shabby, draughty apartment where it rains in. In the luxury hotel he can indulge himself with two foods that define his points of reference: Beer and caviar, a life of luxury and everyday proletarian life. Young Udo's dream became reality: He has not had his own apartment since the 1980s and has lived in various hotels in Berlin and Hamburg ever since. In 1995, he moved into the Hotel Atlantic in Hamburg, where he lives in a suite that he calls his “hippie pad”, but which is also known as his “panic center”. In the attic, Udo uses the small studio “Spitzwegstübchen” for painting and the hotel exhibits some of his works in the Atlantic Gallery as well as his paintings in large format throughout the hotel. For his fans, it has since become the Udo Lindenberg Hotel.
In the second verse, Lindenberg's alter ego breaks through the purely autobiographical speech and addresses the listener directly (“You do your thing”). Lindenberg's alter ego does not see himself isolated from others and mentions Klaus Kinski (German actor, known for films by Werner Herzog such as “Nosferatu”) and popular television news anchor Wilhelm Wieben as reference points. He advises his listeners to remain true to themselves, even if the “Schwachmaten” say he’s crazy („du spinnst“. Lindenberg's narrator ego almost feels sorry for these “weaklings” because it is clear to him that they are not doing their own thing.
The narrator ego, an alter ego of Lindenberg, takes a very relaxed, occasionally ironic and tongue-in-cheek approach to the topos of autonomy. He feels very comfortable going his own way and recommends this to his listeners in typical Lindenberg lingo: „Du wirst es genauso bringen“. Bring is a word with multiple meanings in German. Here it means to achieve a goal, to be successful. Lindenberg is a stranger to doggedness, only the ease with which he sits on the meadow („locker“) leads to success. There is a slightly outdates phrase „Locker vom Hocker“ (literally easy from the stool) that fits Lindenberg's attitude. Charm („auf die charmante Art“), flexibility, but also persistence and stamina („mal elastisch, manchmal hart“) lead to success. Happiness doesn't fall into your lap (the German phrase is literally the same: „Das Gück fällt dir nicht in den Schoß“), you have to earn it (here Lindenberg says „das Glück muss man zwingen“; ususally the verb here is „erzwingen“). The most important thing is to always stay true to yourself („sich immer treu bleiben“) without following the fashion of the day: „Die Mode kommt, die Mode geht“. If you remain faithful to yourself („dann biste = bist du dir immer treu geblieben“), you will reap the rewards. The German phrase is „den Ruhm ernten“ (literally reap glory, stardom). And once you live in a hotel like Udo, then room service becomes Ruhmservice, fame service.

[Chrisinom]

Udo Jürgens: Ich war noch niemals in New York

Lyrics: https://www.letras.com/jurgens-udo/579561/
A good ten years ago, Udo Jürgens died, a pop singer whose work went far beyond this genre. Udo celebrated his first successes with a combination of chanson and Schlager. He composed the songs himself and then played them on the piano with an orchestra. Quiet songs, accompanied only by piano and strings, alternate with bombastic compositions and fast dance pieces. With charisma and a charismatic voice, he develops a style that can at best be compared to that of his idol Frank Sinatra. His songs also include disco sound, rock, reggae and country. His use of the German language and his lyricism still form the foundation for many subsequent artists.
According to a survey at the beginning of the 1980s, 95 percent of the German population knew the name Udo Jürgens. At his live concerts, everyone sings along to the lyrics - and often doesn't even realize what the songs are actually about. A good example of this is his song “Griechischer Wein”. For many of his fans, the song is a vacation anthem. In fact, Jürgens came up with the idea for this song in a few minutes on the island of Rhodes. Jürgens later admitted in interviews that he couldn't think of the right words for the lyrics and could only think in clichés. But the lyrics are about a Greek restaurant in Germany. It is a song about the longing and loneliness of Greek guest workers in Germany. The then Greek Prime Minister Konstantinos Karamanlis, who had the difficult task of leading the country back to democracy after the military dictatorship, invited Udo Jürgens and lyricist Michael Kunze to Athens to thank them for drawing attention to the history of Greek guest workers with the song.
The situation is similar with his song “Ich war noch niemals in New York”. The longing for this symbol of the whole wide world, of unlimited possibilities, of freedom and individuality exists today as it did in 1982, when the song was written. Paris has always had charm as a city of love, Berlin was a “frontline city” during the Cold War and is now booming as a new cultural metropolis. But New York is still the place where long-cherished dreams come true. "If you can make it there, you'll make it anywhere." But the song is not about New York or other places of longing. It is about the desire for freedom, for breaking out of a narrow world.
When a German citizen in 1982, the year the song was published, wants to break out of his bourgeois everyday life, what is he probably thinking of? New York, a place where 15 years earlier the Civil Rights Movement had fought to break down rigid, conservative structures - structures that may still be prevalent in the small German town at the time of the protagonist: The stairwell smells of “Bohnerwachs und Spießigkeit“ (floor polish and stuffiness). Here, the visual level is inextricably linked with the sensory level; the residue of the polish in the air literally smells of pedantry and cleaning obsession. The nouns are ordered equally by “and”, not subordinated by a subjunction, e.g. causal. This makes the auditory impression as immediate as the olfactory impression for the New York ego. The bourgeois world is characterized even more precisely: The “neonhelle Trepenhaus“ (neon-bright stairwell) pays tribute to the neon wave of the 1980s and at the same time stands for lonely coolness on a city evening - think, for example, of movie scenes in which the flickering neon light of the billboard in front of the window illuminates a lonely hero in a run-down hotel room.
The protagonist himself is probably the father of a small family. After dinner („Nach dem Abendessen“) together, he quickly gets some cigarettes from the vending machine while his wife quickly looks after the little one („der Kleinen“). Marriage will have preceded the cohabitation and childbearing in the life sketched. Even the time of the event can be determined relatively precisely: “after dinner” and before “Dalli, Dalli”, so presumably dinner was eaten from 6.00/6.30 pm. So there is still time to clean up and have a cigarette before „Dalli, Dalli“ starts: „'Dalli Dalli' geht gleich los!" Dalli Dalli (from the German phrase dalli, dalli; from Kashubian dali 'weiter, los'; from Polish dalej 'weiter, los, beeil dich' – Go on, hurry up) was a popular television show on ZDF, hosted by Hans Rosenthal. From May 13, 1971 to September 11, 1986, 153 programs were broadcast. The show always started at 7.30 pm. The space and time patterns in which the protagonist moves are therefore predetermined down to the smallest detail: No blemish is allowed in the stairwell ("Bohnerwachs"), the route to the cigarette machine is calculated so that a timely return to the evening routine is possible . The monthly show "Dalli Dalli" is probably exemplary of evening television here; Udo Jürgens updates accordingly in the live version “‘Wer wird Millionär" (Who wants to be a millionaire?) with Günter Jauch is about to start.”. However, the protagonist almost doesn't keep to this on this evening, which is why his wife reprimands him: “„Mann wo bleibst Du bloß? / ‚Dalli Dalli’ geht gleich los. (Man, where are you? / ‘Dalli Dalli’ is about to start.)
In view of all these specifications, it is not surprising that the man wants a departure („Wie, wenn das jetzt ein Aufbruch wär'?) The phonetic similarity to “Ausbruch (outbreak) may not be coincidental here. The desire to break out is made particularly clear by the absolute opposition of the dream places in the chorus and the Philistine world in the verse. Like a sudden daydream, the idea of the USA, represented by the “Hawaii” known from Elvis Presley films, the “San Francisco” sung about by Scott McKenzie as a hippie metropolis and above all “New York”, breaks over the father of the family. Everything that seems impossible in the small world of home is possible there: running around in torn pants („durch San Francisco in zerriss'nen Jeans), being crazy and escaping from all constraints („Einmal verrückt sein und aus allen Zwängen flieh'n“) - if only for once. What is initially a daydream, however, could suddenly become reality. The protagonist carries his “passport”, “eurocheques” and “money” with him. He even has an escape plan in his head in his experienced speech: Take a cab or hitchhike to the airport and simply leave („Vielleicht ging heut Abend noch ein Flug. / Er könnt ein Taxi nehmen dort am Eck / Oder Autostop und einfach weg.“ ) If he dared, he could once again be full of dreams, free himself from the narrowness here (”Noch einmal voll von Träumen sein, / Sich aus der Enge hier befrein!“) Implied once again is the opposition between narrowness and vastness, between stuffiness and globetrotting („Weltenbummeln).
In the end, the almost emigrant goes home “wie selbstverständlich“ (as a matter of course). After the rhetorical question “Nein, was soll schon sein?“ (No, what's the point?), Udo Jürgens sings the refrain again softly. Like a distant dream melody, this seems to calm the protagonist. It is not clear from the lyrics whether he regrets his decision. He decides in favor of his family, in favor of coming home. Perhaps the imaginary escape was enough, together with the realization that the absolutely free dream world is always ready for a silent escape. New York is so effective as a concrete point of reference for this dream world because, on the one hand, it is a real place to which one could actually travel and, on the other, it is a concept in the cultural consciousness that encompasses everything that is not fun.
The desire to escape the bourgeois everyday world and the final resignation are reminiscent of a short story by Peter Bichsel from 1963, San Salvador:
https://blog.studyflix.de/wp-content/up ... vahttps://

[Chrisinom]

Die Prinzen: Alles nur geklaut

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/alles-nu ... ranslation
„Die Prinzen“ are one of Germany's most successful pop bands with almost 6 million records sold . They have been in the limelight since 1991, when they wisely abandoned their old band name “Herzbuben” (Jacks oft heart). However, they already enjoyed minor success with this name in the former GDR. The typical a cappella singing, which all members practiced in renowned Leipzig and Dresden choirs at a young age, had already developed into an inimitable style. A strict upbringing and a regulated daily routine at boarding school defined this time, although the young choirboys were also allowed to sing in the West. Then, in 1990, the renaming and the fateful meeting: Annette Humpe (ex-Ideal) became aware of the band and helped the East German sacred singers to their breakthrough.
With “Alles nur geklaut”, the Prinzen created a song that prophetically recognized the zeitgeist like no other. The so-called Guttenberg affair brought the problem of plagiarism to the attention of a wider public. The affair concerned plagiarism in the law dissertation of former German Defense Minister Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg. The plagiarism was publicly discussed from February 2011 and led to the loss of his doctorate, his resignation within two weeks and the end oft his political career. The extent to which thoughtlessness, lack of conscience or ruthlessness with regard to intellectual property correspond to today's zeitgeist was already being discussed publicly in a literary context almost a year before the Guttenberg affair: Helene Hegemann had copied passages from her debut novel Axolotl Roadkill (2010). An article on this topic on „Zeit Online“ was subtitled „Zeitgeist or plagiarism?“ The Ullstein director and thus Hegemann publisher Siv Bublitz quoted in the article argued in favor of zeitgeist. She said: “The responsibility of a young, talented author who has grown up with the sharing culture of the internet is debatable.” The „Zeit Online“ journalist's classification gave an idea of how tricky the situation remains: “This can hardly pass as legitimization, especially since the book trade and feature pages always complain about the neglect of copyright law as soon as there is talk of Googlebooks or music pirates.” Even the Beatles were accused of plagiarism: Namely with the song “Come Together”, which John Lennon had written in 1969 for the album “Abbey Road”. The rhythm and one line of the lyrics are said to be similar to the song “You Can't Catch Me” by Chuck Berry. Lennon and Berry reached an out-of-court settlement.
In the context of all these discussions, it does seem a little funny that the lyricist of the song “Alles nur geklaut”, Tobias Künzel, is now acting as a deputy member of the GEMA supervisory board and media spearhead against the “sharing culture of the internet”, against the “neglect of copyright” and, above all, against “music pirates”. With quotes such as “Illegal downloading is like shoplifting - and should be punished!” (see TV announcement for a talk show with Künzel on this topic on Focus Online), he became the enemy of many Internet freethinkers. Yet his song could be their anthem. Almost two decades earlier, Tobias Künzel was a singer with the Prinzen and became quite famous shortly afterwards. With “Gabi und Klaus” (1991), “Millionär” (1991), “Mein Fahrrad” (1992) and “Küssen verbote” (1992), he and the four other Saxon choirboys rose to become the first all-German mass phenomenon from the East in the years following reunification. The Prinzen functioned as “ambassadors” of the new federal states or “model Ossis” (colloquial and often derogatory for Eastern Germans), showing by example that if you make an effort here (on the Western music market), you can also be successful as someone from over there. In keeping with this, they reflected on the opportunities that capitalism had to offer in a charmingly ironic way with two of their greatest hits. The path led from „Millionär“ (“Ich hab‘ kein Geld, hab’ keine Ahnung, / doch ich hab‘ ’n großes Maul!” (I have no money, have no idea, but I've got a big mouth!) to the second verse of „Alles nur geklaut“: “Ich bin tierisch (colloquial for extremely) reich, / ich fahre einen Benz (Mercedes Benz), / der in der Sonne glänzt. / Ich hab ’n großen Teich (Ironically, “the big pond” also means on the other side of the Atlantic), / und davor ein Schloß / und ein weißes Roß (poetic for Pferd).“ (I'm filthy rich, / I drive a Benz, / that shines in the sun. / I've got a big pond, / and in front of it a castle / and a white horse.) You could easily believe that the American dream has come true here, but by no means through hard work.
The first line of text opens the writing process and immediately anticipates its result. The speaker demonstrates how you fabricate a hit - it caricatures how the music business supposedly works. It immediately assumes resounding success, which is probably largely due to the fact that the piece of music is already somehow well-known: „Die ganze Nation kennt ihn (the hit that is being written) schon“. Accordingly, “everyone sings along („Alle singen mit“). A hit has to be catchy (a nice German phrase: „ins Ohr gehen“) so that everyone can sing along („ganz laut im Chor“) to the live concert. The radio stations will play the hit over and over again, because nobody can get enough of it: „Keiner kriegt davon genug“. The only concern of the good-humored hit producer remains: “Hoffentlich merkt keiner den Betrug“ (hopefully no one will notice the fraud).
As a further trick in this meta-aesthetic game, the chorus cheerfully announces that the speaker's ego “only knows alone” („Das weiß ich nur ganz alleine“) that everything here is based on theft. This is an opportunity to come up with some synonyms for “stehlen” (steal): klauen (colloquial), rauben, ziehen (I don’t really know this sense of the verb. Maybe in the sense oft abziehen, deduce). Meanwhile, listeners can ponder where they might have heard the AC/DC-style guitar solo or the recurring “eo, eo” in the background before. In contrast, the unmarked quotes in the video are easily recognizable. With Queen, U2, The Cure, Depeche Mode, ZZ Top, Genesis, Pet Shop Boys etc., we see an impressive range of contemporary pop icons parodied. For more detail: https://www.gutefrage.net/frage/von-den ... eo-geklaut
After the already quoted second stanza outlines stereotypes of the life of the rich and beautiful, the third stanza again deals with the problem of poetic authorship.When it comes to seducing a woman („Ich will dich gern verführ'n“), which is not easy („Doch bald schon merke ich, das wird nicht leicht für mich“), what could be better than a song or a poem? According to old traditions, you go for a walk and a poem is spoken into „her“ face („Ich geh' mit dir spazier'n / Und spreche ein Gedicht in dein Gesicht“), whereby she naturally has a right to expect it to be as authentic an expression of genuine feelings as possible. Accordingly, she only kisses him after he has claimed authorship („Ich schrieb es nur für dich“), for fortunately („zu meinem Glück“) she does not know that these words are not his at all. Despite the cheerful melody, some people may become sad here and ask in despair what in this world is actually not stolen; others see it differently. Helene Hegemann, for example, has already signaled that she would certainly accept such a “stolen” declaration of love. In her justification, she differentiated between “originality”, which doesn't exist (anymore) anyway, and “authenticity”, which is what matters in contrast.
In the case of Karl Theodor zu Guttenberg, Annette Schavan (former German Minister oft Education), Jakob Kreidl (former member of the Bavarian State Parliament) etc., the situation was and is of course considerably different. Perhaps the last lines of the song speak for them: „Auf deinen Heiligenschein fall' ich auch nicht mehr rein“ (I won't fall for your halo anymore either). Who has publicly put on a “halo”, when and in what form, cannot and should not be discussed here, of course. But when you hear the rhyme “Denn auch du hast Gott sei Dank / Garantiert noch was im Schrank“ (because you too, thank God, / are guaranteed to have something left in the closet)”, you might think of some of your homework from your undergraduate studies. Or the contribution to Duolingo created by KI, not in the closet of course, but on the computer's hard disk – times have changed. One can only hope that nobody finds them anymore.

[rudi]

Some words in addition
viewtopic.php?p=59498-music-is-good-for ... aut#p59498

This is an opportunity to come up with some synonyms for “stehlen” (steal): klauen (colloquial), rauben, ziehen (I don’t really know this sense of the verb. Maybe in the sense oft abziehen, deduce).

"Ziehen" is used here in the meaning of making an illegal copy or download of files ("eine Kopie ziehen"); a big problem especially in the 90s, when the song was written, but even now, despite the invention of streaming, still a big problem of the music industry. As you wrote, Künzel, singer and writer of this song, is strictly against that.

[MoniqueMaRie]

„Die Prinzen“ are one of Germany's most successful pop bands with almost 6 million records sold . They have been in the limelight since 1991, when they wisely abandoned their old band name “Herzbuben” (Jacks oft heart).

"In the limelight" is an expression so unusual to me that I looked up it's origin: https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/l ... n" in 1877.

Yes, when you say "Herzbuben" in Germany everyone (still?) only thinks of "die Wildecker Herzbuben". The group probably rather wanted to be mixed up with "prince".

However, they already enjoyed minor success with this name in the former GDR. The typical a cappella singing, which all members practiced in renowned Leipzig and Dresden choirs at a young age, had already developed into an inimitable style. A strict upbringing and a regulated daily routine at boarding school defined this time, although the young choirboys were also allowed to sing in the West. Then, in 1990, the renaming and the fateful meeting: Annette Humpe (ex-Ideal) became aware of the band and helped the East German sacred singers to their breakthrough.

Annette Humpe is much more than just "ex-Ideal". She is one of the most successful producers of music I know in Germany: https://de.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annette_Humpe

When I become aware of a new group / a successful song in the German language, I often realise that Annette Humpe has been promoting this person or band in the background. There are numerous well-known names who owe their success entirely or at least in part to her: die Prinzen, Max Raabe, Ich + Ich (Adel Tawil) ...

[Chrisinom]

You're absolutely right about Annette Humpe's importance for German rock and pop. Another rock idol that had a hand in the successful career of Die Prinzen is Udo Lindenberg, who went on tour with them in 1992. Udo cooperated with a lot of international (Eric Burdon, Alice Cooper) and national stars: Helge Schneider, Silbermond, Jan Delay, Nina Hagen, Clueso - and Annette Humpe in his 1998 album "Zeitmaschine":

[Chrisinom]

Heinz Rudolf Kunze: Dein ist mein ganzes Herz

Lyrics:https://lyricstranslate.com/de/dein-ist ... yours.html
„Professor Deutschrock“: Heinz Rudolf Kunze has published 489 songs (36 studio albums) and, by his own account, has written a further 5700 texts. He studied German and philosophy, passed the first and second state examinations for teaching at grammar schools, taught as a trainee teacher, but never as a teacher. Kunze then worked on a doctoral thesis on the image of God held by the philosophers Baruch de Spinoza and Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling; this remained unfinished due to his recording contract in 1980.
His debut album “Reine Nervensache” (Purely a matter of nerves, 1981) was well received and the following album “Eine Form von Gewalt” (A Form oft Violence) was awarded the German Record Prize in 1982. Shortly afterwards, Kunze began his first journalistic work: He wrote a Randy Newman essay for "Der Spiegel" and presented radio programs for NDR and SFB. His multi-part David Bowie analysis “Der Favorit” was broadcast on NDR. The Kunze phenomenon can probably also be explained by the upswing for German-language texts at the beginning of the 1980s in the wake of the New German Wave. In the company of Marius Müller-Westernhagen, Grönemeyer, Klaus Lage and Udo Lindenberg, his albums quickly found their way to the top of the German rock shelves.
Kunze was initially categorized by his management and the public at the time as a singer-songwriter with a philosophical background in the tradition of Bob Dylan or as a singer-songwriter in the American tradition. It was also during this time that the term “Niedermacher” was coined to describe Kunze's lyrics and music. Many of his companions did not expect him to be successful in the music charts as an intellectual rock poet. Right from the start, HRK saw no point in writing his texts in English. His ambition lies in dealing with his mother tongue, stretching and bending words, cracking open and seeing what is hidden behind certain terms.
„Dein ist mein ganzes Herz“ (1985) is probably Kunze’s most popular song. The 1970s and 1980s with the New German Wave changed the appearance of pop stars. Those who now sang German lyrics and wanted to keep up with the times in the pop sector shone in neon colors; their music became rocky to electronic-experimental; and their lyrical content remained true to the old themes in many cases: love's sorrow („Schmerz“) and love's happiness („Herz“), two sides of the same coin, as the rhyme illustrates. Even if nothing changes in terms of the basic subject matter, the linguistic side shows some characteristics with which the lyricists react to contemporary tastes. Heinz Rudolf Kunze's NDW hit illustrates this observation. The new musical tones and the new image of the German-language pop artist are accompanied by a tone of voice that deliberately sets itself apart from traditional pop phrases. After all, what sounded modern and new at the beginning of the history of pop music has naturally worn out over decades of use. Contemporary refractions of common pop rhetoric make it seem current again. The linguistic images become edgier and closer to everyday life, no longer appear so clean and pure, but still make use of the treasure trove of pop language. As a result, the phrases used still sound familiar, but no longer so worn out and often heard, making them more authentic and credible.
Kunze's hit is particularly suitable for making a stylistic comparison with earlier practices, as it refers to a pretext of the same title from the 1920s: Dein ist mein ganzes Herz is the love-pain aria of Prince Sou-Chong from Franz Lehár's operetta Das Land des Lächelns (1923/29), lyrics by Ludwig Herzer and Fritz Löhner-Beda.

Lyrics: https://www.songtexte.com/songtext/fran ... c59da.html
With the intertextual reference, Kunze thus quotes a song that is paradigmatic for the early history of pop music and thus also for its rhetorical tradition. But that’s not all: The already quoted opening line of the refrain not only quotes the basic vocabulary of a love song (dein, mein, Herz, Schmerz), but at the same time deconstructs it by naming the lyrical device that connects these core concepts. The lover addressed becomes a rhyme: „Du bist mein Reim auf Schmerz“. In comparison with the romanticizing language of the operetta tradition, Kunze's pithy language and his idiosyncratic play with idioms and common metaphors are particularly striking.
The very first verse shows that Kunze is not only referring to a literary model, but that the entire song text is interspersed with literary quotations and proverbs. At the beginning of the first verse, the speaker makes use of the literary tradition to stage a scenario of the end of a relationship. The devil appears at the start of the apocalyptic linguistic symphony: “Wir haben uns auf Teufel komm raus geliebt / Dann kam er und wir wussten nicht mehr weiter“ (We loved each other come hell or high water,/ then he came and we didn’t know what to do next). The English translation does not, and cannot, capture the full meaning of these lines. The phrase “auf Teufel komm raus” means with all your might, with full commitment, at all costs, also with the special meaning: as long or as intensively as you can. It is based on a frequent motif in old myths, that man could provoke the appearance of the devil through certain actions and words. As a result of this devil's incursion in the song, “he” (the devil) came. The two, who once loved each other, have thus caused their own emotional chaos. However, an ambivalent reading of the song lines is also possible: not only does the appearance of the devil metaphorically refer to disaster, but „auf Teufel komm raus“ can also appear as an intensifying phrase in a sentence. Both resonate in the lines. The couple must have loved each other very much at one time and perhaps still do. Nevertheless, the relationship ended in disaster. This makes the situation particularly tragic for those involved. The height of the fall from highest happiness to deepest pain also becomes clear in the mythological comparison of the lovers with giants for whom the world is too small: „Wir werden wie Riesen sein, uns wird die Welt zu klein.“
The evocation of the devil leads to yet another level of interpretation. If one reads the opening line against the background of a magical world view, one could also assume the actual appearance of Satan as a person. This (fictional) play with the possibility of a real devil supports the dark introductory note through its proximity to the conjuring rites of occultism. Of course, one is quickly tempted to interpret the metaphorical devil as a problem, relationship crisis or similar in order to give it rational meaning. However, it is not necessary from the outset to interpret the devil figure completely rationally. Especially when looking at the canon of literary classics, incarnated devil figures are not uncommon: as a German myth par excellence, Goethe’s Faust anchors the idea of a devil appearing “human” in the collective consciousness. However one wishes to understand the devil in the text, what is important above all is the observation of a language game with many levels of meaning, which lends the lines an overwrought, slightly delusional, paranoid tension that probably corresponds to the emotional state of the speaker's ego.
However, to prevent the pathos of decline from becoming too powerful, Kunze breaks up the linguistic image by playing with a figure of speech: When someone plays the dying swan ("den sterbenden Schwan geben“), he exaggerates his suffering, deliberately exposes it. Thus the woman takes on the clichéd role of the theatrical sufferer in the last great relationship dispute. The image of the “dark horseman” once again brings literary tradition into play. The symbol refers to the most quoted pretext in the Western literary tradition: the Bible. The dark or black horseman is the third apocalyptic horseman from the last book of the New Testament (Revelation 4-5). The horseman with the scales is generally interpreted as the bringer of dearth and famine. In Kunze's work, the scales may symbolize the two parties in a separation dispute holding their faults against each other and weighing them up. It is more likely, however, that the symbol of the apocalyptic horseman simply stands for the impending end, especially as several horseman figures, such as the third with the fourth, deadly horseman, merge in Kunze's dark horseman.
As apocalyptic as the opening of the song may be, it quickly becomes clear that the speaker would actually like to save the relationship. Because the comparisons with swan and horseman are misleading in relation to the partners: the speaker's ego emphasizes: „du machtest dich nicht gut als sterbender Schwan / ich hab versagt als finsterer Reiter“ (you didn't do well as a dying swan/ I failed as a dark horseman). This also explains why the hellish props “Pech und Schwefel“ (pitch and brimstone) suddenly take on a positive meaning. After all, the former couple once went together as well as „Pech und Schwefel“. Once again, playing with the different degrees of abstraction of a proverbial metaphor makes this bold turn of phrase possible. To be „wie Pech und Schwefel“, this saying is used to emphasize how well two people understand each other and that they therefore always spend their time together, are inseparable.
The figurative meaning of the proverbial materials of „Pech und Schwefel“ is not only subordinated to the actual meaning by the reference to hell, but also by the antithesis with “Gletscher und Geröll“ (glacier and rubble). The narrator gets to the heart of the situation with the image of a montanaric ice sheet and the corresponding stony terminal moraine: he sits in front of the ruins of his relationship. This is reinforced by the onomatopoeic side is, making the linguistic image even more vivid through alliteration. With its emphasis on the second syllable and its composition of the rolling R and the blurred ö-l combination, Geröll even provides the sound effect of the relationship lying in rubble and ashes. „Gletscher und Geröll“ seems to be a newly formulated turn of phrase that lacks any form of stylistic sweetness due to its earthy, prosaic, jarring character.
The phrase “Wir haben so viel Gkück auf dem Gewissen“ (We have so much happiness on our conscience) also has an ambivalent figurative meaning. Although the line plays with the formula of having something on one's conscience, what is on one's conscience is the abstract concept of happiness, which by its very constitution defies materialization. The appeal of this rhetorical image lies in the oscillation between the positive and negative meaning of the original phrase: the happiness that lies on one's conscience can either be interpreted as a nostalgic collection of shared moments of happiness, which in turn are quite literally accumulated “on one's conscience”. Or it could be the traditional meaning of the phrase 'having something on one's conscience', i.e. 'having killed something' or 'having brought about something's end'. In this case, the two relationship partners are the “murderers” of their own happiness.
However, Kunze's lyrics are not only characterized by his play with literary role models outside of the pop tradition and proverbs, but also by his connection to the operetta hit “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz”. With the direct quotation of the title, Kunze already anticipates one thing: the fundamental feeling that drives the speakers in both songs has not changed in the 80 or so years of pop tradition in between. It is therefore not necessary for the NDW (Neue deutsche Welle) speaker to change the prayer-like title-giving formula of the eternal and complete lover. He uses “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz” as a direct quote in the chorus. It still fits to describe his feeling. Another phrase from Lehár's operetta aria has stood the test of time. Kunze quotes the second line of the aria verbatim: “Wo du nicht bist, kann ich nicht sein“ (Where you are not, I cannot be). This sober statement has lost none of its credibility for the 80s lover. Quite the opposite: the basic human love dilemma between hoped-for togetherness and enforced separation is expressed unadorned in the sentence. The negation of both parts of the sentence brings the formulation close to a conditional sentence that expresses the speaker's vital necessity; „be“ also in the sense of “exist“. The sentence also expresses that it is simply not possible for the speaker to be where his beloved is. And that is the problem of the heart-over-head lover.
Kunze's indirect reference to a quote from Novalis' Heinrich von Ofterdingen - “Wohin gehen wir denn? - Immer nach Hause" (Where are we going? - Always home) also suggests a timeless universal validity of human feelings: “We are like everyone else, because we want to go home”. This statement, which slips into the realm of the universal, seems to confirm the insight that the search for love and security is a fundamental constant in human life (“we are like everyone else”), even or especially at the end of a war-torn, fast-lane 20th century and at a time when the last great utopias are slowly crumbling. Almost meta-commenting, the speaker's ego remarks: “Es ist fast nie zu spät, das zu kapieren“ (It's almost never too late to understand that”). The „fast“ introduces uncertainty. This is due to the emotional situation of the speaker, who only “understands” at the end of his relationship that he had actually found fulfillment in it and clearly feels this loss in the absence of his partner. If he doesn't win his partner back, then the desperate man has realized it “zu spät“.
As already mentioned above, Kunze quotes the aria from Lehar's operetta “Land des Lächelns” twice. There, too, it is about the end of a great love. The situation motivating the song is the same for both heart-givers: they are separated from their “einzig Lieb“ (only love, operetta) and yet want nothing more than to be with her. Because for both of them there is only one love: “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz.” The speakers cannot live without their great love and yet they have to. They are faced with the end of a relationship (in Kunze's case) or the problem of the impossibility of a relationship with a particular person (in Lehár's case). Where Kunze's couple's love suffering is self-inflicted, the singing prince in the Land of Smiles suffers from his social role, which simply does not allow him to live in certain circumstances. The question remains open as to whether Kunze's protagonist, in addition to the timelessness of the deep feelings, also quotes the certainty of the final farewell by referring to the aria.
What Kunze does not quote, however, is the operetta’s romantically transfiguring language. His images are quite prosaic and everyday. A reference to the political, for example, prevents a slide into emotional heaviness, even if the statement ultimately aims precisely at the emotional: “ „Was sind das bloß für Menschen die Beziehungen haben / betrachten die sich denn als Staaten)“ (What kind of people are those who have relationships/ do they consider themselves states). So after hell, now another humanly gruelling hell: politics. The game with the homonominal (a nice German word for this is „Teekesselchen“) „Beziehung“ introduces two relationship concepts, the diplomatic one a negative example, the interpersonal, loving one a positive one. The speaker has experienced both, or is currently in transition: the connection between two people characterized by mutual warmth will become a relationship between two parties characterized by cold utilitarianism. In the 1980s, the word relationship simply emerged as a contemporary way of talking about living together, a relationship. Through this blurring of the semantic boundaries between romantic relationships and political diplomacy, the criticism of the modern way of relating to people, in which relationships are often conducted coolly and objectively, shimmers through. The sensual is lost, there is no more “Verführung“ (seduction), but - if the diplomatic relationship also fails - only violent utilitarian thinking (i.e. “Entfühtung”, abduction). The game with „verführen“ and „entführen“ already shows on a linguistic level how quickly the paradigms, or the prefixes, can shift in a relationship. The consequence of a politically led relationship is ending up as a “diplomat”. Erich Kästner's poem “Sachliche Romanze” from 1928 reveals how a cool and matter-of-fact love affair can end: https://www.lyrikline.org/de/gedichte/s ... anze-14375
Kunze counters the romanticizing tendency in Lehár's aria not only with prosaic political vocabulary but also with a more everyday, grubby choice of words. Where the speaker in the operetta hit still praises the female catalog of beauty in rose-tinted romantic speech. the speaker in Kunze's „Herzenssache“ (matter oft the heart) poeticizes sober everyday things: “„ich brauche jeden morgen deinen Nachtgeruch / und keine falschen Wimpern auf dem Kissen“ (I need your night smell every morning / and no false eyelashes on my pillow). 60 years earlier, people were still trying to cover up such everyday occurrences. In the operetta-like illusory world of seeing and being seen, people don't smell and the false eyelashes are accurately positioned so that no one can see that they have been helped along. So if Kunze's protagonist doesn't want to find “falsche Wimpern” on his pillow, then he's not out for make-believe (at the end with a highly made-up prostitute?).
The question remains as to whether Kunze's „Herzschmerz“ relationship is an existing or a lost one. Most interpreters interpret the song as a love song and probably have the refrain in their ears above all. But even here the lyrics remain ambivalent. Love can be both a painkiller (i.e. an antidote - heart as a healing rhyme for pain) and a cause of pain (i.e. a trigger - heart leads to the rhyming word pain). As with „Pech und Schwefel“, there is also a positive twist, because Herz / Schmrz is an ideal and frequently used rhyming couple. It simply goes very well together. However, it is not entirely clear whether this is just wishful thinking on the part of the speaker's ego. In this context, it should also be noted that after the devil from the first verse, other fantastic figures enter the linguistic picture plane in the refrain. Kunze's narrator self paints a picture of the future: „Wir werden wie Riesen sein uns wird die Welt zu klein“ (we will be like giants, the world will be too small for us). The giant comparison once again suggests a slightly crazy view of the world („verrückte Weltsicht“: „verrückt is literally displaced), which could indicate that the dark rider is only deluding himself, that a happy ending is more wishful thinking, more fiction and fantasy than reality. Oversized. It also fits in with these delusions that the protagonist, in order to cheer himself up, even sees something good in the rhyming couple Herz / Schmerz..

[Chrisinom]

Nicole: Ein bisschen Frieden

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/de/ein-biss ... peace.html
When Nicole performed one of the most successful German pop songs at the 1982 Harrogate Eurovision Song Contest, she had no idea what she was about to do. Not only did the 17-year-old win the first prize and experience a meteoric rise to the highest spheres of the pop cosmos, but she also gave the literal “Eurovision” an interpretation that has unfortunately become topical again today, 40 years later, when we think of the Ukraine-Russia war or Fridays for Future. In 1982, a year of the Falklands War and the first Lebanon War, the Schmidt-Kohl change of government through a vote of no confidence and the NATO summit in Bonn, the fledgling peace movement took to the airwaves against the fear of further armament and a looming ecological crisis. And Nicole's contribution must also be seen as a highly visible expression of this rethink.
At the beginning of the song, the speaker mentions her fragility, indeed her pain in a warlike world. She presents herself as the little innocent girl who is afraid (“singe aus Angst” – „aus“ can also be a causal preposition) and at the same time has hope that the world will get better: „Hoffnung“ is the only noun in the last line oft the chorus. In the first verse, she compares herself to a flower, fire and a doll, all three of which are endangered in their existence. The flower blooms “am Winterbeginn”, so it will not survive; the fire crackles “im eisigen Wind”, so it cannot warm; the doll is no longer loved by anyone („eine Puppe, die keiner mehr mag“), so it is useless. In the third stanza, it uses an ambivalent image with the birds in the wind („Vögel im Wind“), which symbolizes freedom and helplessness in equal measure. Up to this point, the speaker only appears at the end of the verses or the refrain (1st verse: “Fühl ich mich”; 2nd verse: “Und hoffe”; refrain: “das wünsch ich mir”; refrain: “Dass ich die Hoffnung nie mehr verlier”).
This changes after the refrain: The “I” opens and dominates the 3rd verse : „Ich weiß, meine Lieder, die ändern nicht viel / Ich bin nur ein Mädchen, das sagt, was es fühlt / Allein bin ich hilflos“ (I know my songs, they don't change much / I'm just a girl who says what she feels / Alone I'm helpless). However, the I's reference to her own loneliness is counteracted by the fact that she uses the pronouns “we” and “us” three times, and twice mentions “die Menschen” who are just as helpless („hilflos“) and sad as she is. At the end, she even asks the audience to sing along (for the last 45 seconds, i.e. a whole quarter of the song, which lasts three minutes). This request is even intensified, as she first says “Sing mit mir” and then in the ripetiton „Singt mit mir“. The word “Frieden” appears again in this request, but it is no longer just about “ein bisschen Frieden”, but about “dass die Welt in Frieden lebt”. Throughout the song, „Frieden“ is expressed metonymically by “Sonne”, “Freude”, “Wärme”, “Träume” and, finally, “Liebe” and is thus associated with positive, joyful feelings. In contrast, the word “Krieg” is not mentioned, but the words “Wolken” and “Amgst vor dem Dunkeln” in the 2nd verse can be understood as a metonymic substitute for the threatening war, which causes both fear and people's tears.
Musically, the success of the song results from a very simple melody reminiscent of folk songs. Ingeniously, the melody of the inviting conclusion can be heard in the background of the first two verses and the refrain from the very beginning; “Sing(t) mit mir ein kleines Lied": It is played by the instruments as accompaniment. Conversely, the melody of the verses can be heard during the final section. This ensures that the listener has both melodies in their ears right from the start. This in turn contributes to the catchy character of the song, and when it says “Sing/t mit mir”, singing along is (unsurprisingly) no problem. The choir accepts the request and sings the refrain at the same time. In the 2nd refrain after the 3rd verse, there is also a reversion, i.e. a sudden change of tone: the melody is now sung and accompanied a tone higher, which has a climactic effect. The song becomes a heartfelt song of supplication in a radiant major key.
In Harrogate, performer and text form an ideal-typical unity: a naïve little girl sings here, who again and again no longer understands the world, with the astonishing conclusion that all she wants is “a little peace”. The stage design is perfect: the color white dominates (the color of innocence and peace), Nicole sits in a black, stone-trimmed lace collar dress, almost motionless on a bar stool, while she holds her playback guitar on her lap with absent hands and only turns her head towards the camera, held in place by a flowing blow-dry hairstyle - a very simple stage design that fits the song. Performer and text form an ideal-typical unity: here, a naive little girl who repeatedly fails to understand the world sings with the astonishing conclusion that she only wants “a little peace” People have speculated as to how this musical begging for a little peace and sunshine, joy and dreams could have developed such a resounding force and yet only ever found the first impression confirmed, which even today leaves no doubt (as countless comments on YouTube in recent weeks prove) when it comes to the overall situation of the world and its mood in a diffuse way. With the theme of “peace”, producer and composer Ralph Siegel and author Bernd Meinunger successfully focus on the longing for peace of a society that experienced the Second World War and now fears a third world war.
Today, as then, the song is often ridiculed as politically naïve, artistically undemanding and musically uninnovative, but the interpreter, who the “FAZ” newspaper described as having a “puny voice”, was perfectly staged for the occasion. “Ein bißchen Frieden” was the result of the professional work of Siegel and Meinunger, who dominated the German preliminary rounds in the 1980s. They understood the conditions for success of the Grand Prix and were able to win over the national audience as well as the international jury (which still existed in 1982). In the final round, they only just missed out on first place several times. In 1980 and 1981 they came second in the European final with “Theater” (Katja Ebstein) and “Johnny Blue” (Lena Valaitis) and in 1979 (in Israel) they achieved a much-discussed fourth place with “Dschingis Khan”. Siegel/Meinunger regularly reached the final round until 1999. The cultural-historical significance of “Ein bißchen Frieden” becomes particularly clear when we look at the team behind it. Siegel wanted to reach a mass audience. In order to win the Grand Prix, he had to create a marketable product that captured the zeitgeist. While Siegel, as Meinunger said in retrospect after 20 years, absolutely wanted to make a peace song in 1982, he himself, if at all, at most wanted to address „ein bisschen Frieden“. This is how the title, “the line”, was found. This line, in turn, together with the visual impression of an angelically dressed singer behind an oversized white guitar and the dreamy music supported by harp sounds, as well as the nimbus of the first German victory, has become engraved in the collective consciousness as a striking cultural-historical event.
At the award ceremony, Nicole – against the eurovision rules - also performed her song in Dutch, English and French, which was met with applause from the audience:

[Chrisinom]

Die Puhdys: Wenn ein Mensch lebt

Lyrics: https://lyrhub.com/en/track/Puhdys/Wenn ... slation/en
After several line-up changes, the Puhdys emerged from the Udo Wendel combo, which had existed since 1965. With their current frontman Dieter “Maschine” Birr, they appeared on stage for the first time in 1969 and covered 15 English-language songs. Cover bands had a different status in the GDR than in the West, as in some parts of the country no Western broadcasters could be received and, apart from licensed editions, sound carriers from “capitalist foreign countries” were generally only available via detours. At the request of many fans, the Puhdys appeared on GDR youth television in 1970, although this was only possible with a German-language track. Like many GDR bands, the Puhdys were gently steered in the direction of German rock, while German lyrics and rock music hardly seemed to go together in West Germany at the same time. The Puhdys shared the experience with other artists in the GDR who were looking for a broad public, that compromises, tricks and mimicry were essential for this, which certainly included Peter Meyer's contacts to the highest levels of the party, but also to the Stasi.
Even when you first hear this rock ballad, some of it will sound familiar. Is it all just a rip-off („Alles nur geklaut“, remember "Die Prinzen")? The music sounds a lot like the Bee Gees (Spicks and Specks). And the lyrics? Who doesn't remember “Turn turn turn”, written by Pete Seeger and made famous by the Byrds? The composer Peter Gotthardt discovered the band for the film The Legend of Paul and Paula. Together with the poet Ulrich Plenzdorf (author of the novel, stage play and film “Die neuen Leiden des jungen W.”, which also attracted much attention in the West) he wrote seven songs with German lyrics. Plenzdorf was also responsible for the script of the film as a dramaturge at DEFA. These songs and an instrumental, along with an outdoor concert by the DEFA orchestra with excerpts from Beethoven's violin concerto, form the entire music in the film.
The song „Wenn ein Mensch lebt“ is based on the opening credits of the film Die Legende von Paul und Paula (The Legend of Paul and Paula) and at the same time structures it with its formal elements; the boundaries between film music and a kind of music video are fluid. The sounds on the film's reality level and the song are interwoven in many layers: Sometimes you only hear the song as film music, sometimes it has to pause to give more space to a (sonic) event in the film. The opening credits function like an overture. Essential elements of the film are anticipated in the image, with the opening credits and song acting as the quintessence of the film's fable.

The elements of the film's dramaturgy, which are shown in the form of a music video in the opening credits, appear both as illustrations and as reflections of the literally Old Testament-like linguistic power of Plenzdorf's text. Like Pete Seeger before him in “Turn, turn, turn”, he uses Kohelet's imposing series of dichotomies from the Book of Ecclesiastes (“Jegliches hat seine Zeit”) as a model for his text, extracts the key words of his rather colloquial paraphrase from it and supplements them with his own lines: “ Ein jegliches hat seine Zeit,und alles Vornehmen unter dem Himmel hat seine Stunde. Geboren werden und sterben, pflanzen und ausrotten, was gepflanzt ist, würgen und heilen, brechen und bauen, weinen und lachen, klagen und tanzen, Steine zerstreuen und Steine sammeln, herzen und ferne sein von Herzen, suchen und verlieren, behalten und wegwerfen, zerreißen und zunähen, schweigen und reden, lieben und hassen, Streit und Frieden hat seine Zeit.“ (To every thing there is a season, and an hour to every purpose under heaven. To be born and to die, to plant and to root up what is planted, to choke and to heal, to break and to build, to weep and to laugh, to mourn and to dance, to scatter stones and to gather stones, to be at heart and to be far from the heart, to seek and to lose, to keep and to throw away, to tear and to sew up, to keep silent and to speak, to love and to hate, to quarrel and to be at peace, all have their season.) Many of the motifs from the biblical text that are not taken up in the song lyrics play an important role in the script as a whole: killing, healing, crying, laughing, heartfelt, searching, losing, tearing apart and, as illustrated in the opening credits: breaking, building, keeping and throwing away.
The chorus sings about a girlfriend who has left her boyfriend. The enigmatic words “„Weckt sie nicht, bis sie sich regt. / Ich hab‘ mich in ihren Schatten gelegt“ (Don't wake her until she stirs / I lay down in her shadow) become clear if you know the movie. After a brief period of happiness, Paula breaks up with Paul (in Spicks and Specks by the Bee Gees it says: “Where is the girl I loved / All along / The girl that I loved / She's gone / She's gone”), who does not confess to her for social reasons (“Als ich aufstand“ – When I got up). But Paul realizes how much he really loves Paula, expressed in the song by:“Meine Freundin ist schön“ . When she doesn't let him into her apartment for a while, Paul lies down in front of her apartment door: „Ich hab’ mich in ihren Schatten gelegt“ (“I lay down in her shadow”). Eventually Paula “stirs” (“Weckt sie nicht, bis sie sich regt“) and they reconcile, but there is no happy ending. Here, too, the song text has biblical references: In the Song of Solomon, chapter 1, verse 15, it says: „Siehe, meine Freundin, du bist schön; schön bist du […]“ (Behold, my friend, you are beautiful; beautiful you are”. And the 7th line of the song text “„Weckt sie nicht, bis sie sich regt” could also be biblically inspired (cf. Song of Solomon, chapter 2, verse 7: “„Ich beschwöre Euch, […] dass ihr meine Freundin nicht aufweckt noch regt, bis es ihr selbst gefällt“”).
“Wenn ein Mensch lebt” was a hit throughout Germany, selling almost three million LPs and CDs. Not only in the GDR, where the song was even sung and discussed in music lessons, but the rock band was also celebrated in West Germany, at the latest since a concert in the Hamburg Fabrik in 1976, their first television appearance in 1977 and further tours in West Germany. After their last concert in Berlin in 2016, the band disbanded “for reasons of age” (according to keyboardist and saxophonist Peter Meyer). The rock ballad has been covered by Clueso, Heinz Rudolf Kunze, Matthias Reim and Sportfreunde Stiller, among others. Here is Cluesos version:

[Chrisinom]

Clueso: Chicago

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/chicago-chicago.html
Anyone who names themselves after the ingenious and clumsy Inspector Clouseau, played by Peter Sellers, demonstrates a fine nose for humor and self-irony. However, Thomas Hübner aka Clueso (If your keyboard doesn’t have the German umlaut you put an e behind a, o, u), born in Erfurt in 1980, is far removed from police investigations in the film business, although his career as an MC certainly contains some amusing anecdotes. There is, for example, the botched theory test to become a hairdresser, which is by no means an everyday occurrence in the hip hop biz. Clueso also admits that he used to only use his modest guitar and breakdancing skills to pose and impress girls at discos and campfires. It seems as if Thomas Hübner was born with the pleasant ability to take the mickey out of himself - not to mention his musical talent.
Growing up in the GDR, in a village near Erfurt, Clueso moved to Cologne in 1999 after dropping out of his hairdresser apprenticeship, got a record deal and released his first album. In 2002, Clueso moved back to Erfurt. Another year later, production began on his second album “Gute Musik”, which he completed in 2004. The first release of “Chicago” was as a single on April 21, 2006. On May 19, 2006, the song was released as part of Clueso's third studio album „Weit weg“, of which it is the first single. „Chicago“ is a classic pop song with a typical AABA structure, a simple harmonic structure and the almost tailor-made radio length of 3:30 minutes. Thanks to its simple harmonic structure, its spoken melody and the catchy chorus with its many repeated words, „Chicago“ is one of Clueso's best-known and most popular songs.
The musical simplicity of the song is at odds with its lyrics. It deals with the issue of drug use among young people in Germany. At the turn of the millennium, around 10% of all 18 to 39-year-olds were taking illegal drugs. Between 1,000 and 2,000 people died every year as a result of taking these drugs. In „Chicago“, a speaker describes the life and feelings of a drug-addicted girl who presumably also works as a prostitute to get money for her drugs. It tells how she regularly tries to dream herself out of her everyday life and how she finally dies of an overdose. Neither the drug use nor the topic of prostitution are directly mentioned in the song, but can easily be inferred from the allusions in the lyrics, as can the girl's death from an overdose.
The first verse begins by outlining the social background of the girl who, like so many young people, is perhaps growing up in a „small world“ („die kleine Welt“) of a nearby village or on the outskirts of a larger town. The lights of the city attract the girl like a magnet. The city and its lights, which she can't get enough of („Sieht sich an den Lichtern satt“), offer her a life where there is always something going on („da wo was los ist“), where she feels like she belongs and has contact with like-minded people. However, these contacts are sporadic and random (“dann und wann”, occasionally, every so often), the content of the conversation is superficial (“sie erzählt … von dem und dem“). It becomes clear in line 6 that these contacts are mainly of a sexual nature: „Sie hat jeden schon gehabt“ (She’s already had everyone). The verb „pflegen“ in the following two lines is ambiguous: the girl „cares for her contacts (liaises)“ (pflegt ihre Kontakte), but neglects her own body care: „Auch wenn sie sich selbst nicht ganz so pflegt …“.

The fact that this life is not a solution for the girl becomes clear in the chorus. She wants to leave, dreams of a world “somewhere where nobody knows her”. The refrain (“I'm in Chicago”) repeats like a mantra and emphasizes her desire for anonymity („dort wo niemand, niemand meinen Namen nennt“) in order to escape her own identity. Why Chicago is the cipher for this remains an open question. It can hardly be assumed that she knows Sandburg's poem (“Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning“). It is more likely that she is looking for a metropolis in the land of opportunity that is not a tourist destination like New York or Los Angeles.
It becomes clear in the second verse that she doesn't really know Chicago. In the real world, the place for her sunny dream („ihren sonnigen Traum“), which contrasts with the (also metaphorical) rain she is walking through, would certainly not be Chicago, „the windy city“. Her dream of escaping her life to another place keeps her alive. She defines herself strongly through this dream and wishes so much that it would come true that she claims to others that it is actually true.
Maybe she is lying, maybe she doesn't want to admit the truth to herself, or maybe she is so infatuated with her dream that she starts to believe it is true herself. She claims to know every corner of Chicago („Beschreibt in welcher Ecke sie schon war“), but remains just as vague as she is in her contacts: „… sie kennt … dies und das“. The last two lines of the second verse give a clearer indication that she is prostituting herself for drugs: „Und wenn du bisschen was dabei hast / Nimmt sie dich mit für eine Nacht“ (And if you have a little something with you / She'll take you with her for a night). Normally it should be „ein bisschen“, but in spoken colloquial German the „ein“ is sometimes left out.
The only moment in the text that shows the sad reality and its consequences is the bridge. It shows how trapped the girl already is in her problematic life situation: "Doch wenn man ihr erzählt / Welchen Traum sie lebt / Dann spielt sie gleich verrückt"(But when you tell her what dream she's living, then she immediately goes crazy). When someone sees through her façade and points out that she is living in a dream world, she doesn't want to admit it. This suggests that she herself believes what she originally only imagined. This is followed by another reference to her drug addiction. After she gets up in the morning, her first priority is the next fix, she lives from shot to shot: As soon as the light comes on, she has to go back quickly.
The place she has to return to is mentioned in the third verse: It remains undefined, as do the people she meets there: „Manchmal trifft sie sich mit ein paar Leuten / An einem unbestimmten Platz“ (Sometimes she meets up with a few people in an undefined place). What she does with these people there, however, becomes abundantly clear: Fresh stuff flows through the veins („frisches Zeug (fließt) durch die Adern“). The following, very ambiguous line suggests that this stuff is heroin. On the one hand, a spoon („Löffel“) is used to consume heroin (this must first be heated in a solvent on a spoon before injection), this spoon is usually passed on to the other users: Man „gibt den Löffel an die Kumpels ab“ (You hand over the spoon to your buddies). On the other hand, the German phrase „den Löffel abgeben“ means kick the bucket, die. The rest of the third verse seems to indicate that the drug addiction ends fatally for the girl: „Nur diesmal ist sie nicht gekomm'n /
Vielleicht hat sie's nicht gepackt“ (Only this time she didn't come / Maybe she didn't make it).
The end of the song seems to contradict this interpretation and remains ambiguous. The girl no longer comes to the meeting point of the drug scene, she has left a small message („eine kleine Nachricht“). She tells her friends that she won’t come anymore, she is now in Chicago, lost in anonymity. Did she really follow her dream and go to Chicago? Or is Chicago a metaphor for a “better place”, perhaps paradise? I would tend to go for the latter.

[Chrisinom]

Udo Jürgens: Aber bitte mit Sahne

Lyrics: https://www.letras.com/udo-jurgens/1481581/english.html
Here is a song for Lent, the title of which has become a standing expression in German. In the context of cakes, “Sahne” is „Schlagsahne“ (whipped cream) that is served with the cake; in a café, it is customary to say “mit Sahne” when ordering a cake or tart. Cream has a positive connotation in German. If you call something “erste (or allererste) Sahne”, you ascribe it an outstanding quality. The “Sahnehäubchen“ (icing on the cake) is a decoration with a dollop of cream, for example on a piece of cake or a hot drink. In a figurative sense, however, „Sahnehäubchen“ describes a special highlight - or the last bit that was missing to make something perfect. An example: „Das Sahnehäubchen bei meiner Paddeltour durch den Spreewald war der Biber in freier Wildbahn“ (The cherry on the cake on my canoe trip through the Spreewald was the beaver in the wild).
It has already been said that Udo Jürgens is a very versatile artist. If you only read the lyrics, you would think it was a song by Reinhard Mey. It may even have been inspired by Meys „Die heiße Schlacht am kalten Buffet“ (The hot battle at the cold buffet) from 1972. Udo Jürgens discovered the lyrics to “Aber bitte mit Sahne” in a folder of songs by Eckart Hachfeld, the emperor of German cabaret lyricists. Hachfeld had written a number of lyrics for Udo, including “Zeig mir den Platz an der Sonne” and “Lieb' Vaterland”. And now Udo came across a text in Eckart Hachfeld's folder that he had written for a Hamburg skiffle group, the “Rentnerband”. The musicians in the band, immortalized in Udo Lindenberg's first big hit “Alles klar auf der Andrea Doria”, didn't really like the lyrics. But Udo was attracted by the half-satirical, half-macabre, an element that had not yet been found in German-language songs, but which Udo certainly had an appreciation for and which he had always admired so much in the Beatles. Why did this morality tale about the tragicomic demise of an entire circle of ladies with pieces of cake become a success - despite the mild blasphemy? Perhaps it was the charming contrast between the rock rhythm and the string interlude in the style of Boccherini or Haydn - or perhaps it was the somewhat darker side of our soul, which blasphemously rejoices when the coffin is adorned with cakes instead of wreaths („Auf dem Sarg gab's statt Kränzen verzuckerte Torten“)?
The song is interesting for learners of German for two reasons. In an international survey on what is typically German in culinary terms, the afternoon coffee party with coffee and cake is mentioned alongside beer and currywurst. In fact, the tradition of afternoon coffee is considered a German invention. It probably goes back to the first coffee houses in Germany in the 17th century and spread from there to Austria, England and the USA. This is why “National Coffee Cake Day” is celebrated there on 7 April - with German cakes such as the Black Forest gateau. With industrialization, coffee became a popular drink and was increasingly consumed at home. During the two world wars, a number of coffee substitutes were created, such as „Muckefuck“, coffee made from malt or chicory. Drinking real coffee became a luxury again and on Sundays it became a ritual that was celebrated for visitors with special crockery and home-baked cakes. Coffee was named the Germans' favorite drink ahead of beer for the first time back in 1965 - and has remained so. In 2019, people in Germany drank an average of around 164 liters of coffee - far more than beer (100 liters) and mineral water (142 liters). As prosperity increased in the 60s and 70s, coffee and cake became a ritual during the week too, especially for housewives, as the song points out: „Sie treffen sich täglich um viertel nach drei / Am Stammtisch im Eck in der Konditorei“ (They meet everyday at 3:15pm / At their regular table in the corner of the pastry shop). („Stammtisch“ is a typically German habit. It’s not only a regular table but also a group of people who meet regularly in a pub to talk about certain topics. No hobby is too crazy not to have a Stammtisch: For example, fans of the VW bus, the Bulli, meet at the “Bulli” Stammtisch and lovers of eight-legged creepy-crawlies meet at the Spinnenstammtisch.)
This ritual, which of course includes „Kaffeklatsch“, gossiping about people who are not present, is satirically exaggerated in Udo Jürgens' song. German learners can get to know a range of German cakes and other sweets:

• Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte (https://www.lecker.de/schwarzwaelder-ki ... 44883.html)
• Sahne-Baisser (https://www.lecker.de/kaese-sahne-torte ... 18542.html)
• Früchteeis (fruit ice-cream): Ananas (pineapple), Kirsch (cherry), Banane (banana)
• Buttercremetorte (https://www.lecker.de/buttercreme-rezep ... 74149.html)
• Bienenstich (bee sting) (https://www.lecker.de/bienenstich-das-k ... 45169.html)
• Mohrenkopf (https://www.lecker.de/mohrenkoepfe-20169.html). In a television show in 2023, the racist term (Moor's head) was replaced by the now common „Schokokuss“ (chocolate kiss).
• Sachertorte (https://www.lecker.de/klassische-sacher ... 27023.html), named after the Hotel Sacher in Vienna
• Linzer Torte (https://www.lecker.de/linzer-torte-37712.html)
• Marzipantorte (https://www.lecker.de/marzipan-torte-8873.html)

In addition to the musical composition and the tragicomic story of the four ladies, it is the language of cabaret artist Hachfeld that makes the song so successful. What distinguishes the cabaret artist from the comedian is „Witz“ in the traditional sense of the word. Originally, “Witz” meant “Verstand”, “Klugheit”; influenced by French „esprit“ and English „wit“. From the 17th century onwards a development of meaning set in that led from “witty idea” to “the gift of telling funny things aptly” or “the gift of retorting in a quick-witted and funny way” and finally to today's dominant use in the sense of “joke”.
On the sound level, the lyricist initially works with an almost Anglo-Saxon delight in wordplay: The four ladies “schwatzen und schmatzen“ (chat and smack), they “pusten und prusten“ (blow and snort). The eating process becomes a military maneuver: the “Kaffeetanten” (female coffee addicts) “blasen zum Sturm auf das Kuchenbüffet" (sound the charge on the cake buffet). The attack ends fatally for three of the four ladies, only Liliane „(hält) als letzte ... getreu noch zur Fahne" (remains as the last one ... faithful to the flag). The Prussian-like military context also shines through in the motto “Ordnung muss sein“ (Order must be maintained), when the last opponent (the now politically incorrect Moor's head, of all things) is brought down with the utmost effort.The tragic “Ende vom Lied“ (end of the song) is announced with a pun: “"Der Tod hat reihum sie dort abgesahnt" (Death took them in turn – „absahnen“ is literally to skim). When Liliane is the last person in the pastry shop to fall off her chair and kick the bucket (remember „den Löffel abgeben“?), the priest buries her “mit rührenden Worten“ (with touching words). The adjective „rührend“ (participle 1 oft „rühren“) is ambiguous as well. Literally, „rühren“ is to stir, a „Rührkuchen“ is a stirred cake. In a figurative sense, however, rühren / rührend is also evoking emotion in someone; moving someone inwardly; arousing positive feelings such as compassion, pity, sympathy, etc. Consequently, there are “statt Kränzen verzuckerte Torten“ (sugared cakes instead of wreaths”) on the coffin at the funeral.
This is undoubtedly macabre, which was also the reason why the „Rentnerband“ rejected the song. Udo himself was also a bit skeptical: “To have four ladies die one after the other at a table because they overeat?” Udo didn't really know whether his female fans would like the lyrics - but they loved them. In Catholic Bavaria, Udo was accused of blasphemy for the final verse about the deceased Liliane (“That the Lord God pave the way to heaven for her, but with cream please”), and the song was hardly ever played on the radio there.
The tradition of „Kaffeekränzchen“ and „Kaffeeklatsch“ in the „Konditorei und Café“ is now a thing of the past. In my small town, there were five such culinary meeting places in the 70s and 80s, of which only one has survived to this day. Coffee consumption in Germany has not decreased, but people now prefer to drink “coffee to go”, which has also become a German term. Unfortunately, the great tradition of German cabaret from the beginning of the 20th century with names such as Frank Wedekind to the “golden twenties” with Kurt Tucholsky, Otto Reuter, Friedrich Hollaender, to the renaissance of the tradition in the post-war period with the Düsseldorfer Kom(m)ödchen, with Erich Kästner, Wolfgang Neuss, Günter Neumann's "Insulanern" and finally in the sixties with the Munich “Lach- und Schießgesellschaft” and the Berlin “Stachelschweinen”, is also a thing of the past.

[Chrisinom]

Abor & Tynna: Baller

Lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/abor-tyn ... -english-0
This is the German entry for the Eurovision Song Contest (ESC) 2025. After many unsuccessful ESC years without “Germany twelve points - L'Allemagne douce points”, the German entertainer, TV and music producer, composer, musician, presenter, comedian and entrepreneur Stefan Raab took matters into his own hands once again. He had also been responsible for the last German ESC success, Lena’s “Satellite” in 2010. This year’s song, the first with German-language lyrics since 2007, finally prevailed in an elaborate elimination competition. The performers come from Austria and are singing the German entry for the ESC final in Basel, Switzerland. The artists' ancestors come from Romania and Hungary. The proportion of people with an immigrant background is over 27% in Germany and Austria, and as high as 40% in Switzerland. A perfect German-language mix for a European competition!
The siblings Tünde (Tynna) and Attila (Abor) Bornemisza come from Vienna. Tynna is not a trained singer, but the artists grew up in a musical home. Their father Csaba Bornemisza plays the cello with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. “We've been making music together since we were small children. Attila on the cello and I on the flute. Today he's at the mixing desk and I'm at the microphone,” says Tynna. The siblings grew up between the high culture of Viennese high society with Mozart and the Opera Ball and an experimental subculture in smoky pubs with Wolfgang Ambros songs. The siblings remember the mixture of glamor and decay from their family visits to Romania and Hungary.
The title of the song sounds strange at first. „Baller“ - which language is that? French (dancing)? English? (ball player; cool guy)? Well, “baller” is not a noun here, but the first person singular of the German verb “ballern”, as the first line of the song makes clear. The term „ballern“ has its origins in various linguistic roots dating back to the Sumerian and ancient Greek languages. Over the course of time, a colloquial and slang usage developed that deviates from the original meaning. At the center of the word's origin is the loud sound of an explosion or a gunshot, which clarifies the connection to shooting and force. These acoustic qualities are reflected in the passionate and powerful use of the term, especially in a sporting and jargon context. The colloquial use of the term 'ballern' has taken on various meanings and nuances over time. Originally, 'ballern' is closely related to the terms 'poltern', 'lärmen' and 'knallen'. In everyday language, 'ballern' is often used to describe a form of physical force, such as shooting projectiles or giving a slap in the face. This usage emphasizes the meaning of 'ballern' as an expression of dynamic and powerful actions. Frequent examples of use show that the term conveys not only the physical dimension, but also emotional intensity.
„Ballern“ has now become firmly established in everyday life. In sports jargon, 'ballern' often means to act with full force and energy, be it when scoring goals in soccer or firing balls in handball. It expresses an aggressive but also purposeful action that is often associated with the sound of banging or shooting. In addition, the use of 'ballern' is often found in leisure time, especially when partying. In this situation, it can mean to consume alcohol or other drugs intensively, which is associated with a loud and boisterous atmosphere. When they hear the word “ballern”, many Germans think of the “Ballermann”, the famous-infamous party location on Mallorca, for many Germany's 17th federal state. The origin of the venue was a beach hut built in 1972, called a “balneario” in Spanish. So Ballermann is a malapropism of balneario, maybe triggered by „ballern“.
The language of the song shows typical tendencies of German colloquial speech. In addition to the verb “ballern”, the verb “wehtun (”Es tut noch bisschen weh“ - it still hurts a bit) should be mentioned, a colloquial synonym for “schmerzen” (“to hurt”). It can also be found as a noun in compounds such as Kopfweh, Ohrenweh, Halsweh, Bauchweh. The use of “bisschen” without the indefinite article “ein” is also typical. The same phenomenon can be found in “Kauf mir neues Gewand” (instead of „ein neues Gewand“). Here, the colloquial language at first view seems to contrast with the more elevated term “Gewand” (robe), which is, however, used more frequently in Austria and in southern German dialects for a piece of clothing. The precursor to this omission of “ein” and “eine(n)” can be found in “Du setzt 'n Punkt nach dem Satz” and „‘ne Kugel fangen“. The same abbreviation appears in “das war's”; hardly any German speaker would still say “das war es” today.
Endings are also dropped or shortened when conjugating verbs, a process that took place much earlier in English: Ich seh’, ich komm’, ich wechsel (correct: ich wechsele or wechsle), ich kauf’, ich krieg’, ich glaub’, ich hab’, ich setz’; Sterne fall’n und knall’n. Sentences without a subject are also typically colloquial: The entire first stanza (“Kreidesilhouetten”) consists of incomplete sentences, with the colloquial element to be found in lines three and four, where the subject pronouns “du” and “ich” are missing. This also applies to lines two and three of the second stanza (“Sternesplitter”). In this second stanza, there is another colloquial deviation from the linguistic norm in line 4: the causal clause has the sentence position of a main clause after the subordinating conjunction “weil”.
The song by the Austrian brother and sister is about the end of a love affair: „(Ich) Hätt wissen soll’n, dass das das Ende von uns war“ (Should have known that that was the end of us). The singer blurts out all her feelings while singing and thus detaches herself from her former partner. There is no turning back for her: „Aber ich komm’ nie wieder, egal was du mir sagst“ (But I'm never coming back, no matter what you tell me), even if it still hurts („Es tut noch bisschen weh, wenn ich dich wiederseh’“ (It still hurts a little when I see you again). The singer and songwriter herself explains that the song is based on her own experiences: “It's a break-up song, I wrote it [...] in the fall.” Before the summer, she had gone through a break-up, which she had processed together with her brother in some sad songs. But at some point, emotional heartbreak songs came to an end. “Baller” had to come! It's a bit about those feelings you have after you've already written five ballads about how sad you are after a break-up. And then that's enough!”
On her Instagram account, the singer also explains what exactly the lyrics in the chorus of the ESC hit are all about. It reads: „Ich baller Löcher in die Nacht, Sterne fallen und knallen auf mein Dach.” (I shoot holes in the night, stars fall and bang on my roof.) The 24-year-old was inspired by the English expression “to shoot for the stars” and did not translate it meaningfully (i.e. “nach den Sternen greifen“, reaching for the stars), but literally (i.e. shooting for the stars). This gave rise to the image of “shooting holes” in the night („Ich baller' Löcher in die Nacht“) - and finally reaching for the stars again after the painful separation. Consequently, the only English half-sentence (last line of the pre-chorus) is “I shoot for the stars”.
The song is made up of two verses, a prechorus, a chorus and an outro. It begins with the chorus as a kind of intro, which was written as an eight-liner and is made up of a repeating quatrain. The refrain is characterized in particular by the use of word repetition as a stylistic device in the first two lines. A geminatio or epizeuxis (two or three word repetition) is used here, as it says: “Ich baller', la, la, la, la, la, Löcher in die Nacht” and “Sterne fa, la, la, la, lall'n und knall'n auf mein Dach”. Lines two (fall’n - knall’n) and three (weh - seh’) have internal rhymes. The chorus is followed by the first verse, which also consists of four lines. The first verse is followed by the so-called prechorus, which also consists of four lines, before the actual refrain begins again. The same structure is repeated with the second verse. After the third chorus, the song ends with the outro, which only refers back to the chorus and repeats parts of the first chorus line several times. The vocals are by Tynna, her brother Abor is only involved in the studio work and the instrumentation, especially playing the cello.
While the verses have no rhymes, but at most assonances („Mal - war“ verse 1, „Glitzer - Schicker“ and „fang'n - Hand“ in verse 2), the prechorus is also rhymed, in lines 1 and 2 with end rhyme (gekannt - Gewand; the “d” at the end is pronounced like “t” in stage German) and in lines 3 and 4 with internal rhymes („Drang – Weltuntergang“ and „war’s – stars“). As the English-German wordplay in “shoot for the stars” has already made clear, there is obviously a poetic creative will at work, which is particularly evident in the two verses. In the first two lines, the first stanza creates a poetic image of the separation of two partners, in which the verbs are missing according to the principle of poetic condensation. The scene of the separation of two partners metaphorically becomes a crime scene („Tatort“, also the title of the most popular German TV crime series) like in the CSI crime series, which are also popular on German commercial television. The chalk silhouettes on the sidewalk („Kreidesilhouetten auf dem Trottoir“ – Trottoir is a synonym for Gehweg, Bürgersteig, which is mainly used in Switzerland and Baden-Württemberg) mark the positions of the victims of a violent crime in the police investigation. The regret of the “perpetrator” (“Baby, I'm sorry”) becomes the trigger for the end of the relationship: „Hätt wissen soll'n, dass das das Ende von uns war“ (Should've known that was the end of us).
The following prechorus first emphasizes the finality of the separation: “Du setzt n' Punkt nach dem Satz, als hättst du mich nie gekannt." (You put a full stop after the sentence, as if you had never known me.) The full stop at the end of the sentence „Tut mir leid“ becomes the „Schlusspunkt“ (full stop, but also end; the phrase in German is „den Schlusspunkt setzten“) of the relationship. The abandoned lover's reaction is ambivalent. The change of perfume and clothing (“ein neues Gewand”) indicates the desire for a new beginning, whereas the renewed wish that the whole world should end with the end of the love affair („Ich krieg' wieder diesen Drang, ich will den Weltuntergang“) expresses the greatness of the pain of separation. Eventually, however, the realization of the finality of the separation and the decision to set new goals prevails: „…ich glaub', das war's, I shoot for the stars“.
This is confirmed by the second verse, which ends with the triumph of the abandoned woman. The shards of stars („Sternensplitter“) that have fallen into the sky after the shot and now glitter on the skin become a fashionable attribute and confirmation of a new sense of self-worth: “I've learned that what doesn't kill me only makes me more chic”. The song alludes here to a well-known Nietzsche quote: „Was uns nicht umbringt, macht uns stärker“. The balance of power has changed: The supposedly strong man, who would do anything for his beloved (“Would you still catch a bullet for me?”), is robbed of his weapon, which is now in the hands of the abandoned partner and becomes the tool of her self-discovery: "... deine Waffe ist jetzt in meiner Hand“ (your weapon is now in my hand).
The jury chose “Baller” primarily because of the song's catchy qulities (a nice German word for a catchy song: „Ohrwurm“, literally ear worm). In a forum for the preliminary round, one user wrote: “It's certainly not the most interesting song vocally, but it represents the typical German „earworm“ music we know. The most successful, and we haven't had that for a very long time. I mean sung in German. What's important with a song like this is also important at the ESC, it's not always the loudest and brightest voice that has to rock, but a song has to sit with you the first time you hear it and then stick with you. That's what „Baller“ does. It was stuck in your head from the very first second, you sing it quietly to yourself in everyday life wherever you are, you just can't get rid of it.“ Let's just hope that Tynna doesn't repeat her gesture from the German final in Basel, smashing her brother's cello to pieces at the end of the song!

[Chrisinom]

Bosse: Der letzte Tanz

Lyrics: https://www.letras.com/bosse/der-letzte ... glish.html
German TV viewers will recognize some well-known German actors when watching the official video for “Der letzte Tanz”: Maximilian Mundt (lead actor in the Netflix series How to Sell Drugs Online (Fast)), Jasna Fritzi Bauer (Jerks, Dogs of Berlin, Tatort Bremen) and above all Bjarne Mädel (Stromberg, Der Tatortreiniger, Mord mit Aussicht), a longtime friend and companion of Axel „Aki“ Bosse (Bosse is also the name of his backup band) , Indie-pop singer and songwriter, „der Grönemeyer aus der Kreisliga“ (Grönemeyer from the local league), who is committed to ProAsyl and has repeatedly taken a public stand against all forms of intolerance.
“Der letzte Tanz” is an emotional homage to friendship, in which Axel Bosse appeals to a life in the here and now that should be lived to the full. Verse 1 is an asyndetic sequence in telegram style (nouns without articles) depicting the course of a life (“Jahre gehen vorbei“, years go by): Childhood, first friends, first drunkenness („zwei Promille“), graduation („Abiball“ – „Abi“ is short for „Abitur“, the final exam at „Gymnasium“, German High School), nights in clubs („Longdrinks“, also used in German), studies and/or first adult responsibilities („Kopf wird voller“, head gets fuller), end of first love („alte Liebe). The verbs used emphasize the process of passing away: „vorbeiziehen“, „vorbeigehen“, „alt werden“, „leer gehen“, „voller werden“, „schwer werden“ (to pass by, to grow old, to become empty, to become full, to become heavy). The concluding “yeah yeah” seems to be a reminiscence of the beat music of youth.
The second verse continues the sequence of the ephemeral, first by simply mentioning two deceased idols of pop history (David Bowie, Amy Winehouse), whose names certainly evoke many memories, not only for the Bosse generation (born in 1980). Transience knows no mercy, even for the best: „Auch das Beste geht vorbei.“ Next, something like eternity shines through on the relationship level (“Du und ich, wie im Traum, ich will, dass es ewig bleibt.“ - You and I, like in a dream, I want it to last forever). However, this is a first thought (“Erst...”), like an alcoholic intoxication followed by a hangover: “... dann der Kater“. „Kater“ has a double meaning in German. It is not only a male cat, but also a hangover. The etymology of the term is interesting: the word “Kater” is derived from the Germanized “Katarrh”, which once was colloquial for indisposition caused by inflammation of the mucous membranes. Leipzig students adopted this term to describe the consequences of alcohol intoxication. The last line refers to another type of downtime, of falling out of time, (the German term here is „Auszeit“) vacation. But even vacations inevitably come to an end: „Koffer packen“ (packing your bags)
The prechorus summarizes the experience of transience in a kind of kitchen philosophy: “Nix (colloquial for nichts) ist für immer”, nothing is forever. This, as well as the preceding lines, has found its way into many a sermon, with pastors obviously copying from one another (https://ispringen-evangelisch.de/gottes ... tzte-tanz/ und https://grevenbroich.ekir.de/audio/7t-1s-225/ - Alles nur geklaut! (It’s all stolen). The realization that you only realize in retrospect what you have lost (”Und man weiß immer erst beim Abschied, was es ei'm bedeutet und wie schön es eigentlich war ... you only know what it means to you and how beautiful it actually was when you say goodbye”) is also not particularly original and only interesting for learners of German because of the ‘ei'm’ (in the spoken language for ‘einem’). At least a neologism appears in the second version of the prechorus (after stanza 2), which, like the stanzas to some extent, shows Bosse's ability to reduce facts linguistically and thus to compress them: “alles Einwegmomete”. Like the disposable bottles (Einwegflaschen) the transient moments cannot be reused.
The following refrain provides material for teachers who want to introduce their pupils to the idea of “carpe diem”, the flip side of baroque “vanitas”. It contains an interesting sentence construction: “tanz, als wär's (wäre es) der letzte Tanz” and “küss, als wär's der letzte Kuss”. The subjunctive construction “als wäre es (as if it were)” is a short form of a comparative conditional clause: “als ob / wie wenn es ... wäre”. Unfortunately, this is followed by a trivial version of the prechorus' insight: Simply everything is only once („Einfach alles ist nur einmal“). The double “uh-uh-uh” is not a reference to the Duo owl (“Uhu” is Eagle owl in English, incidentally also the brand name of a German glue, for whatever reason), but merely a kind of rock lalala.
Despite all the criticism of Bosse, who has often slipped into the shallow recently, the context of the song does excuse him somewhat. The song is from the first year of the coronavirus, and the parallels between the fears of people in the war-torn 17th century and today are obvious. If you want to hear something better from Bosse, I'd recommend his albums between 2009 and 2013 (“Taxi”, “Wartesaal”, “Kranische”). And “Der letzte Tanz” is suitable for learners of German simply because of the “als wär's” construction, which, in combination with the catchy music, will hopefully be easily remembered. Remember the ear worm?