Atzenfrei and fun

A common misconception claims so happy, everything in this country have even remotely to do with technology, must be perse-musically and lyrically imaginative undemanding - cheap party tunes, march, for Shame in the corner. Well, this thesis lies already at Deichkind, get the reference volume number 1 from Hamburg, not upright - "great creator of language," the Sueddeutsche, a "high culture collective" even according to the Frankfurter Rundschau - yes, what is it now? Do not rely on's cliché - even at reference volume number two, the chip shop from Geisenhausen goes Berlin, which has sold just on Audiolith with "Dolphinarium" her third album, and exuberant carnival tooting about as far as HP Baxter of Günter Grass.
Surely no coincidence that this album begins with a wistful look back at past, missed periods ("Of all the excess") - carefree, because naively, the past seems Frittenbude approaching their generation more so than on previous albums with the holy seriousness of the disillusioned youth. Where is the hamburger cronies still celebrate the holidays command by decree, we must seek to chip shop a long time - "Today, only one" is perhaps the only title that carries a little of the spontaneity and abandon the old days in itself. Over - throughout the rest of the fourteen pieces bear frustration, helplessness and anger in the subtext, all well thought through well thought out, sometimes a bit wooden, but always witty.
Have clear commitments can miss Martin Steer, John Roegner, and Jacob, guitarist still never, this time there's with "Homeless" more and "Germany 500" ("... your Nazis, here where they hingehörn, here where they bother you, no one here where appearance it well, because they stand to you super ... ") less hedged prompts the understanding of the band - view property for its directness, it must now be almost thankful that times have become more arbitrary and anonymous. If this in between getting ready the little phrases and mind games to put a smile in the face of the listener, then this is the other, almost poetic side of fries, "The night our dictator, and every day is a Rolator" ("Homeless" ) only sounds at first absurd, creeping alienation as "this phantom, call it life, our inner Altmark" ("Inner Altmark") fits described, and also make complaints to the claim bubble lined environment could hardly be more catchy "if no one has been achieved, but the narrative goes "(" Is there really Uruguay still ").
The sound of impressive verbiage, is not really a surprise, of exquisite class, cherished as a MashUp of electro, synthpop, indie and dance always changeable, catchy and definitely fit club. Quieter moments alternate with pounding, driving beat, for "Wings" cheating even one of these sparkling indie guitar to the ensemble that it wants to be a really warm-hearted. And somehow, wish you the guys who find it so difficult but obviously with their home and their pros and cons, in the end insure that they are using this to make their way to music, making many of the living just because something is not relaxed, but perhaps, but surely. http://schandenschmuck.de/