Dienstag, 23. Dezember 2014

The Foreign Corresondent Returns - Stories About German (Rock) Music # 45


Back with internet access after a few days travelling the east coast of Sri Lanka. When I was checking the daily news I heard that Udo Jürgens died at the age of 80. Not that he was a rock musician at all or that I'm a huge fan of him but he and his music accopanied many ofpeople from my generation. He started singing his own songs in the tradition of the great French and Belgium singer/songwriter what they called in this times chansons. As far as I know he was the first Austrian who won the Grand Prix de la chanson (waht now sadly knows as the European song contest). Starting his career with some beautiful love songs he turned into Schlager (some kind of easy listening songs without any intelektual lyrics) to show up in the late 70s/early 80s with some songs that had a social-critically meaning. He sung some songs agaist drugs and copmlaceny. Afterwords he had some hits about singing how homesick some Greece workers feel in Germany and about your own personal freedom to do what you want. That this songs have become neglected to hyms by drunken people yelling them at Carneval makes me sad.

R.I.P. Udo Jürgens

In this block of flats we live for one year and are well-known here
However, fancy what I just found under uour front door
It is a letter of our neighbours, stands in it, we have to go out!
They mean you and I we do not fit, in this honourable house

Because we live together as a pair and are still without marriage certificate
If one has met yesterday here and one has voted
And now the community of all tenants writes to us: "You get away from here!"
(hey, hey, hey)
Since a wild marriage, this does not fit in this honourable house

Everybody has signed it; look sometimes the long list:
The woman next door who can never keep her lies for herself
And those of the ground floor, spies out daily them everybody
Also this guy who hits his daughter speaks for this honourable house

And then the thickness which spoils the dog, however, her own child forgets
The old person who always explains to us what is forbidden here in the house
And that of the first floor, he looks all the time to the window out
(hey, hey, hey)
and he indicates everybody which parks sometimes wrong, before this honourable house

The grey Don Juan, that stares at you every time in the lift shamelessly
The widow who has prevented that here a black einziehn is able
Also it from above if the gasman comes takes off them the dressing gown
They all are ashamed for us, because this is an honourable house

If you ask me, I stand this hypocrisy no longer
We pack uns're seven things and zieh'n away from this honourable house!

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