It's My TV….It's My Peanut Butter

My obsessive play of the week is another international tune.  I decided that two versions of “Symphonie” by German rock band Silbermond just weren’t enough.  I was perusing Amazon and located a third “Orchester Version.”  More strings and (drum roll please) an Oboe (double reeds, represent!)

The song is, at its core, a rock break-up ballad.  The hook, in this case, is  ”Symphonie…und jetzt es ist still um uns” (Symphonie…and now it’s quiet around us).  It’s solid stuff, though I’m taken more by the overall sound than the lyrics.

The initial version I encountered was pretty much pure rock.  Again, solid stuff.  It helped to branch my collection of German musik into a cool middle ground between the head-banging, angry-time music of Rammstein, the synthesizer-of-the-80s-lives-on sound of the “Schlager” pop music (I love it, but I recognize it’s not for everyone) and the truly ol’ skool folk music my family brings out for holidays and reunions (think beer halls and yodeling).  I needed something that was solid rock-pop, and this (along with the rest of Silbermond’s repertoire) fit the bill.

I was even more pleased when I found the second version, still rock, but with a touch of orchestral strings.  Very classy.  The orchestral touches made the sound more melancholy while letting the guitar build up bring home the gut-wrenching aspect of a failed relationship.   I completely support cross-musical-genre-efforts, but we’ve all seen some forced disasters.  This was not one of them.  I was more than impressed enough.

Until they added the French Horn and the Oboe.

There is very little in this world that cannot be made better with a French Horn and an Oboe.  Rock ballads get better.  Symphonies reach their pinnacle.  The weather gets nicer.  Babies stop crying.  Ice cream tastes better.

No, really.  I swear.

This final arrangement took the increase in melancholy from version 2 and ramped that up, but they still retained the rock build up.  As with the second version, the combination of the classical orchestra sound worked with the rock band–no feeling of shoe horning.  The added instrumentals made the slow, quiet beginning even richer, and they even seem to play a larger roll once the guitar and drums kicked in, which is nice.  I thought the drum entry was a teensy bit heavy, but the points gained with the added orchestral parts out-weigh the split second when the transition seems too sudden.

The downside of this ear-worm is that I went looking for even more Silbermond MP3s on Amazon only to find there are very few.  The only full up album is Verschwende Deine Seit from 2004.  The rest are 2-3 track single albums (be warned, if you buy from Amazon, watch those singles albums–several are priced at $9.99 for the album, when there are only 2 tracks which you can buy individually for $0.99).  The selection of albums on CD is larger, but the prices are significantly higher.  And, unfortunately, most of the official videos from the group on their YouTube channel are geo-blocked for those of us in the USA (we deserve it, I know).

In case you missed my whining, and the fact that I haven’t posted on time (again), I’ll tell you that this has been a helluva last two weeks.  I’ve been working long days, on weekends, and generally busting my ass.

This level of sustained activity involved in something I’m not really keen on doing requires a certain level of musical stimulus to maintain my sanity and my energy level.  ”Zeit für Optimisten” by Silbermond has been in my playlist rotation fairly heavily.

If you like fast paced, solid rock music, you will be able to enjoy this song without knowing German.  Musically, I won’t say this is my favorite Silbermond song (I think that would go to “Symphonie”), but it’s got the right tempo to offer a pick me up when Excel spreadsheets are bogging me down.  There’s also the note of, not quite anger, but definitely something less than happy lurking under the upbeat sound, which mirrors my level of frustration just about perfectly.

If you DO know some German, the lyrics complete the package to make this a perfect addition to the job-dragging-me-down playlist.  ”es ist ‘ne schlechte Zeit für Optimisten” repeats the chorus….literally?  ”It’s a bad time for Optimists.”

Ain’t.  It.  Just.

And rather than offer empty hope about improvement for the Optimists, the song takes the bull by the horns suggesting “Also lasst sie uns ein wenig unterstützen / Wer will schon gern alleine sein?” That is, we should help the optimists….who wants to be alone?  That’s right.  Instead of bench warming it with the pessimists (me), we ought to be out there finding a way to make things a little better for those lonely optimists.

A nice sentiment, really.

Of course, being a pessimist I could suggest that the other option for Optimist loneliness is to convert them to pessimism.  Clearly Silbermond has more optimism than me.  And that’s good, because they give me rockin’ songs that make me momentarily think I should abandon my pessimism if I want to see things improve.

Once again, for the daring samplers out there, a legal version is up on YouTube.  The video is a couple of years old.  Don’t ask me about the TV-headed people.  I didn’t get it when the song came out and I still don’t get it, though I am amused by the guy on the crapper and the kid on the mini four wheeler.

When I hit a certain level of pissed, I go beyond the point where some laid-back Jimmy Buffett is capable of unwinding me.  I’m angry, livid, out-of-my-head seething….and I have no intention of letting that feeling go.

It is in these moments that I turn into a fan of German heavy metal, including the only such group most Americans know, Rammstein.

There are a few Rammstein songs I can jam to when I’m not in a homicidal rage, but one in particular I can really only deal with when I’m too angry to think about what it’s actually saying, and that’s “Bück Dich.”

The first time I heard the song I was in Dallas traffic that was moving, but full of total assholes who were tailgating, cutting people off, and weaving in and out at excessive speeds.  I had popped in a recently acquired Rammstein album, thinking that “Du Hast” would fit the mood.  It fit, as did some of the following songs, including “Bück Dich” until the point where traffic had thinned out and I was starting to relax.

As I morphed back to a human from being like a mental Incredible Hulk whose dearest wish is a top-mounted antitank weapon on the roof of my car, the part of my brain where my college German lessons are stored kicked in.

“Bück dich befehl ich dir / wende dein Antlitz ab von mir / dein Gesicht ist mir egal / bück dich nocheinmal”

Whiskey.  Tango.  Foxtrot.

Did that say what I’m fairly certain that just said?  ”Bend yourself over”?  ”Your face doesn’t matter to me?”

O-M-G.

Yeah.  Therapeutic as it is to hear those creeptastic vocals (if I had to imagine the voice that would most likely make me pee myself if I heard it coming from a dark alley?  The vocalist for Rammstein would have it), and the pounding, grinding music to go with the blinding anger coursing through my veins, it’s only that level of anger-out-of-my-wits that manages to block me from thinking about what the hell the song is actually saying.  I mean, a creepy, angry German man is growling about screwing someone in a very uncomfortable place (Kevin Smith fans chorus “Like the back of a Volkswagen?”) in a very not nice way.

I can’t say I hate the song.  When I’m mad enough that the only part of me that’s tuned to music is a monkey-brain that wants to head bang and doesn’t speak German, it’s perfect.  But the moment I come back to my senses, “Bück Dich” goes back on the shelf.

Um.

I have no time vampire for this week.  Really.  Unless you want to count my job.  Which, theoretically, shouldn’t be a time vampire since it’s A) what grown ups are supposed to do with their time and B) brings a paycheck.

B, at least, holds a significant amount of attraction.

Unfortunately A does not yield fun times or anything worthy of comments.  Annoying, stressful,….and run times averaging over 10.25 hours.

Together A and B combine to slay any time vampire that might attempt to consume my hours with mindless, un-productive fun.

So maybe work is a time vamp.  An evil time vamp.

Verdammt.

I’m a beer kind of gal.  And for the most part my beer preference takes a fairly conservative,-bordering-on-full-Reinheitsgebot, German beer bent.  The 1516 Reinheitsgebot, or German Beer Purity Act, limited the contents of beer to barley, water and hops.  It was a largely political-control move that had little to do with the quality of beer (and more to do with control of grain markets), but the limitations resulted in German brews being finely crafted within those narrow confines to give us the wonderful substance that makes October a more bearable month and provides the only reason most non-Germans (and some Germans) tolerate polka music.  Germans are pretty proud of the law even though it’s been repealed (and they figured out that yeast was also involved in beer–a fact which no one knew in 1516).

But the side effect of so many years of  restricted brewing contents eliminated other types of beer.  The beer scene of Belgium, however, remained a refuge for more adventurous beer-making.  Fruits, spices….the options were open there, resulting in fantastic things like frambois.  While I can appreciate the open atmosphere for creative brewing and the more varied results, for the most part?  I’m still going to sit at the table with my German peeps and stick to the basics.  Give me a dark beer, easy on the hops.

But now and then, I branch out.  This weekend was such a day.  For some reason, I decided to go for something that seemed lighter and more summer-ish.  Something girly.

I wound up with pink beer.  Not red or burgundy:  pink.

And a pink wheat beer at that (I’m normally not wild about weiss beers).

It was Leinenkugel’s Berry Weiss, and while I definitely wouldn’t want this most of the time, it just hit the spot for this weekend.  It’s definitely sweeter and it’s definitely lighter….and did I mention it’s PINK? I mean, even the head of foam was pink (a rather pleasant shade, actually).  And it foamed quite nicely.  Beautiful head on this beer.

But, honestly?  It doesn’t taste like beer.  I know for some this is a good thing, but for me?  Well, I was hoping for something with subtle fruity flavors.  This is not subtle.  It’s also not like a Frambois.  It feels less mature than a frambois (which manages to make sure you know that it’s a beer).  It’s basically a wine cooler with a little less sweetness.  It tastes just fine, don’t get me wrong.  I enjoyed it….but it’s not beer to me.  And if I’d been in a less experimental beer-mood and someone had handed me this?  I’d be disappointed.  But as a beverage in general?  It’s tasty.  I’ll drink it.

So I didn’t have to pour it down the sink, I’ve found a beer I can offer to my non-beer-fan friends.  But I’ve also found one more reason I appreciate the influence of the Reinheitsgebot.

Cammy: Yes!  While I know I should probably hesitate more about this, I can’t help it.  I would completely risk looking like a moron to sit down and have a cup of coffee with the “Iron Mädchen.”  Just as long as I had easy access to a German-English dictionary and time to brush up on my verb conjugations because the last thing in the world I’d want to do is go in and “Du-tz” the Chancellor of Germany (familiar rather than formal “you”).

I’ve got a boatload of topics I want to cover with this woman, starting with the quote I’ve heard attributed to her that “Anyone with something to say needs no makeup” (“Jeder, der wirklich etwas zu sagen hat, braucht kein Make-up”).  There’s a lot of clues to this woman’s personality wrapped up in that one, especially knowing how vastly she had to be “transformed” style-wise before winning her spot as Chancellor.  And the transition from physicist to politician–there’s got to be a goldmine of interesting talk to be had there.  I’ve got my theories about women in political power with science backgrounds, and a conversation with Merkel would go a long way toward testing those theories.  And, of course, I couldn’t talk with this woman without going into the East German thing.  Not just the recent little amusing story about how she was at the sauna when the wall came down, but about the impressive fact that she’s an East German in the top job in a unified German.  Symbolic, if nothing else.

I’m anticipating that the woman has at least a little bit of a sense of humor (anyone making a crack about the German sense of humor is invited to attend one of my family reunions for a counter-argument), which, hopefully, would keep her from getting pissed at me firing off questions like a fan-girl at at Con Q & A.  Hmmmm, maybe this should be over a beer instead of coffee….

Kristy: Um… probably not.  To be clear, this is not about not wanting to have coffee with Chancellor Merkel.  I’m just fairly certain she wouldn’t want to have coffee with me.  There’s that whole thing about the make-up.  Personally, I’m a huge fan of make-up (what?  I have fair skin and had horrible acne as a teen, I’m covered with acne stains and no one wants to see them).  I know some feminists will roll their eyes and tell me I’m just allowing myself to be exploited and I’m trying to fit myself to the expectations of men and yadda yadda.  But I disagree.  I don’t wear make-up for men–they don’t notice it.  I’ve had conversations with my male friends about how they don’t like women with lots of make-up; inevitably they praise me for not wearing much, oblivious to the fact I’m speaking from underneath a pound of concealer and powder.  I wear make-up for myself.  Partially because the powder absorbs the grease my skin produces and keeps it from clogging my pores, but mostly because I feel better about myself with it on.  And when I feel better, I’m more confident, more likely to speak my mind, more likely to get things done.  But somehow I think the “Iron Maedchen” might just see me as superficial and vain.  Also, I’ll be totally lost when she and Cammy start talking about science and physics.  And I don’t know a word of German.  So I will eagerly take notes about everything she says when Cammy comes back with a full report, but I don’t think I’ll be attending that little coffee klatch.

Cammy: I think there’s more to  the cultural aspect of the make-up thing here.  It’s not just about the make-up itself–it’s how it ties to her being an East German.  As I understand it, cosmetics were an incredible luxury item before Communism collapsed.  An Epic!Win hostess gift when visiting the East was some CoverGirl eyeshadow.  It’s one of those things that set “Ossis” apart from the West.  There was, and still remains a view of those from the East as being backward in comparison to the West (at least in Germany).  So, needing make-up for confidence was as much a luxury as the make-up itself, especially immediately after unification when the East Germans definitely had something to say.  Merkel’s line is more of a defense against those in the West who were too busy laughing at their dowdy Eastern neighbors.  I’ll grant you that I like that quote because I’m the lazy girl who doesn’t like to put on make up and would love to level the cultural playing field enough to remove the pressure for me to put it on, but the reality of the quote is something different altogether and it probably doesn’t do either of us much credit to reduce it to mere physical appearance.

All that said, I’ll give you an out on this one, Kristy, though part of me would really like to drag you in.  I have a feeling you’d find a way to hit it off with the Iron Mädchen better than I would.  If nothing else, you two could sit around and practice your Russian together and leave me out.  And don’t forget, no matter how you interpret the make-up comment, they DID hire a stylist for the woman to get her into office, and last election she was workin’ the cleavage, so…..

Cammy: I really don’t think I could have coffee with Ben Franklin.  Not because I don’t like him or I’m scared of him or anything like that.  I just think that he would insist on beer.  And, me having no problems whatsoever with that most blessed of beverages–I agree with something Ben once said about beer being proof that God love us and wants us to be happy–I could totally follow him down to the nearest pub or bar for a pint and some good conversation.  As long as he didn’t try to hit on us.  I mean, I want to talk inventions, his choice not to patent his works–geeky stuff.  It’s tougher to do that if the old guy is flirting with you, ya know?  I also want to give him a little heck about his comments about German girls not being quality enough for an English guy to marry without a huge dowery.  Oh, yeah, we DEFINITELY have to have a little talk about that one, Ben.

Kristy: How could I not?  Out of all our founding father’s I suspect he was the most fun to hang out with.  Cammy’s probably right about the beer, and I’m not much of a beer drinker.  But I think Ben would be okay with me sipping on a nice glass of port while he drinks his beer.  Somehow I think he’d rather I drink port than a girly, fruity malt beverage like I tend to when forced to drink beer.  It would be interesting to hear what he thinks of us now.  I suspect he thinks Americans have retained more puritanical traits than he would have hoped.  As and early defender of Native Americans I’d hate to have to tell him how much we screwed that up.  I think we could have an interesting convo about American folklore though, and I think he’d be thrilled that people are studying it seriously, rather than trying to imitate the Europeans in everything.  Got to be careful though–I suspect Ben’s the kind of enabler who refills your glass when you’re not looking.  Definitely going tandem with Cammy on this one too.