Rotte Rotte

After 3 individual pieces on the Hamburg label PUDEL PRODUKTE, the longplaying work of the man from the Pension Stammheim is finally released. It quickly becomes clear that this is a real capacity record: 6 (on vinyl) or 8 pieces (on electricity) from the cosmos of a man who means business. You can already tell by the fact that the record is only called ROTTE and not something else. Rotte makes ROTTE and nothing named, nothing labelled, nothing carefree commodes and prisoners certainly not.

It is relatively easy to approach ROTTE. Just listen and do nothing else. No, nothing. Nothing at all. Don't give away flowers, smoke cows, talk yourself or listen to the net. Don't try to get out of the Bermuda Triangle in the process! Concentrate as if you were reading a book by Suhrkamp. Be action-less in the here and jazz. Beat the six kinds of wood out of the coffin and leave only the steel screws!

Take Rotte and ROTTE seriously. Man and work. With him, though, black is absolutely a colour. My ketamine is my petrol. First Takes only. Drilling without Club of Gore. Undisputed truth. No Lounge. The lyrics on Rotte are not a party.

It might seem a bit TOO colourless, a bit TOO intense, a bit TOO hard and dark. Too much psycho-babble. But the songs bring it and you. They are designed in such a way that nothing else works during them. Nobody would think of peeling an egg at Russian roulette. That's how you have to see it.

The songs were musically supervised by Jörn Elling Wuttke and Oliver Bradford (Thee Church Ov Acid House), by DIE NERVEN producer Ralv Milberg, by Douglas Creed (BPitch Control + Freude am Tanzen), Boris Nielsen (Käptn Peng) and Peter Armster.

There is a congenial mutual autocorrection between lyrics and music. Individually, this cannot be heard and it is not offered. By the way, you don't hear anything else at the Federal Criminal Police Office at the moment. So please.