If there’s anyone who knows something about growing up in the East/West divide of Berlin in the Cold War days it is Till Lindemann of Rammstein. Coming of age in the 70s (he was born in ’63, as his somewhat hardened look might indicate), there is no question that the radio was his portal to another world (even if slightly censored), as he so tenderly (sort of) sings about in the first single from their forthcoming seventh record–the first release in ten years.
Aptly entitled “Radio,” Lindemann, in his best imitation of Hitler, takes us back to more oppressive German times, when the airwaves were both precious and precious contraband to be savored and adored like a god. As such, they can be highly, let’s say, impactful–especially on women, so susceptible to “hysteria” (that was once code for a female expressing sexual desire of any kind, hence being sent to the insane asylum for treatment) as they are. And what they’re becoming “hysterical” over in this video is the frequencies emanating from those pulsing speakers that get their blood pumping more than any man.
Lindemann’s animal vocals pouring through the stream of cables that operate radios throughout Berlin apparently make them all, in turn, want to pour their tits out of their bra. This, naturally, causes a furor among law enforcement, who can’t abide such loose disregard for proper, civilized decorum–at the bare (no pun intended) minimum in the streets, where one woman takes out her radio baby to breast feed it. With such egregious heedlessness for respectable conduct, the police infiltrate the space where Rammstein is singing their homage to radio, only to find that they are but untouchable airwaves, of sorts, themselves. Having fallen prey to the power of the radio, the police begin dancing uncontrollably in a manner one might also expect to see in a Pussy Riot video.
Unlike, Pussy Riot, however, the intonation of Lindemann doesn’t sound quite so mellifluous. Yet for as harsh as his tone might sound to the non-German speaking, he is actually somewhat sweetly singing about the radio’s ability to transport him to another world, revering its power to spark the imagination with, “My ears become eyes/Radio, my radio/So I hear what I do not see/Silence secretly wanderlust.”
For most, the appeal of Rammstein has nothing to do with their lyrics, as there can be no denying a certain demographical dilemma with the band, particularly in the climate of now–that is to say, one filled with a neo-Nazi resurgence spurred by the conservative overtaking of governments throughout the world. Most succinctly embodied by the Orange One, of course. Accordingly, it should be noted that their one upcoming U.S. tour date is in a prime hotbed for white supremacy: Tampa, Florida. If only Rammstein could use their potential for rallying together angry white boys with as much positive visceral force as the “old-timey” radio of which they speak in this love letter to a past overtly dependent on less public autonomy–paradoxically giving people more autonomy in how to receive and interact with mass communication. For as we all know, the surfeit of choice in the present has resulted in the crippling phenomenon known as the information-action ratio, incidentally first explained by Neil Postman at a conference in Germany in 1990. And yes, the people in the “Radio” video clearly prefer information that is relevant to their lives, prompting them to the act of sexual expression.
