In search of German-language pop music - a review of the album Primetime by Strandhase
Facebook: Strandhase
Famous German-language pop music is something of a rarity. Germany’s most celebrated musical exports (Bach, Händel, the Schumanns, etc.) remain defining figures in the history of Western classical composition and performance, but they exert a level of influence over the canon that has yet to be matched by any German-language pop singers. There are few who have garnered popularity further afield, in contrast with the plethora of Francophone acts who have achieved worldwide recognition, like Belgian superstars Angèle and Stromae. I became aware of Strandhase - a German-language group whose sound is a “Genretumult” of pop, rock and indie music - in 2020, and though they have not received quite the kind of breakout success that other European acts like Måneskin enjoyed last year, they may well have the potential to become a German-speaking musical celebrity for the 21st century.
Released just before the coronavirus pandemic reached Europe in full force, Strandhase’s first full-length album Primetime offers some more extensive variations on the theme of bittersweet cynicism and lovelorn misanthropy that the band developed in their 2019 EP Grundrausch (which translates to something like Basic Rush). Primetime’s structure is similar to that of Phoebe Bridgers’ exceptional sophomore album Punisher, released a little later the same year. Both opening songs are more reminiscent of a film score than a rock album; 20:15, like Bridgers’ DVD Menu, is a short instrumental track that uses sampling to create a cinematic sense of scope, interlacing a piano melody with the distant roar of something like thunder, gunfire or rumbling feedback, before moving into a song Ich habe gelogen (I lied) that feels disappointingly facile by contrast, in Strandhase’s case. Primetime and Punisher both draw to a close to the sound of raspy laughter, while the lyrics in Strandhase’s last track Meine Dystopie (My dystopia) recall the apocalyptic euphoria of Bridgers’ I Know The End.
Throughout the album, Strandhase mix snarly guitar hooks with the lead vocalist’s scratchy voice, so well suited to spitting out their vituperative lyrics that his singing slips at times into a crackly sprechstimme (a vocal technique that merges singing and speaking). At times, this backfires; in Einsame Gestalt (Lonely shape), for example, his voice doesn’t quite stand its ground against the insistent instrumental parts. It’s in the following two tracks (Paloma and Chlorwasser trinken - Drinking chlorine solution) that the band really come into their own, marrying the best of their gravelly vocals with blown-out riffs and angsty but upbeat melodies. Primetime reaches an impasse after these tracks, unfortunately; the relatively languid instrumentals in Korsakow or Elster im Exil (A magpie in exile) verge, at times, on the lethargic.
By comparison to the first half of the album, the interlude (zwischen Plastikpflanzen - between plastic plants) and subsequent tracks (Plastikpflanzen giessen - Watering plastic plants) and Kalter Kaffee (Cold coffee) are by far the highlights. More mellow than melancholic, their evocations of the discrepancy between romance and reality strike the bittersweet chord that the band consistently seeks to achieve. Blending genre and tone, Strandhase doesn’t take the easy route - and the resulting sound is often captivating. In Dieser Schatten (This shadow), for example, its unusual structure is its greatest strength; though Paloma or Chlorwasser trinken are satisfyingly predictable, the spoken segment and guitar solo in Dieser Schatten provide a welcome change in mood and tempo, and suggest that the band is not afraid to take the path less travelled.
The final two tracks on Primetime are, confusingly, some of its least remarkable. The penultimate song, Okay, blends synthesised beats with a guitar solo, creating a sense of imbalance that matches the vocalist’s part despairing, part calculating appeal to his addressee. The final song, Meine Dystopie (My dystopia), is typical Strandhase: lyrically strong, with a text that is just about profound without seeming pretentious, accompanied by a melody that is not quite satisfying enough to merit the song’s five-minute duration.
If Primetime somewhat fizzles out, their most recent singles - Streuner (Drifter) and Lisboa (Lisbon) - are remarkably vibrant, accompanied by videos that are equally alive with a sense of colourful dynamism. These songs are more coherent, sanding off the rough corners of the band’s earlier work, but demonstrate at the same time the kind of daring sonic experimentation that Strandhase taps into in Primetime. Lisboa, in particular, makes generous use of Vocoder (an effect that alters the quality of the singer’s vocals, adding a robotic-sounding edge) to produce a futuristic sound that exploits Strandhase’s lyrical virtuosity and talent for writing subtly addicting melodies, while its striking music video features an Ikea-esque blue-and-yellow colour scheme set against an icy Teutonic tundra. Strandhase, it seems, has been reinvigorated, with a carefully considered visual aesthetic that primes the group for commercial success. Whether this will be reflected in the reception of their upcoming music remains to be seen.
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7vtC2BwSc7CwJ634wi23ay
