Review Summary: If Rammstein was ruled by a despot.
When Till Lindemann decided to diverge from the Rammstein camp back in 2015, looking to cut out a slice of the solo project pie for himself, he unintentionally created a window for fans to gaze into. By that I mean, Rammstein are quite enigmatic and have humbly affirmed the band are a cohesive whole, equally contributing and deciding on the creative decisions as a collective. It’s one of the main reasons Richard, the band’s lead guitarist, had to branch off back in 2005 and create Emigrate; to vent his creative frustrations and get away from what is a stubbornly slow and democratic process within Rammstein. So, when Till got the itch to do his own thing on the side in 2015 with Peter Tägtgren, Rammstein’s opaque outer-wall opened up slightly and revealed certain proclivities and dynamics, maybe not meant to be seen. For instance, Richard’s inclinations are more towards straight-forward alternative rock, mixing influences from NIN right through to Judas Priest, and playing things pretty serious in the process. Till on the other hand is all about excess, and with that comes the face-peeling djent-y heaviness of contemporary metal music with some outright hysterically depraved subject matter. Both personalities clearly form a juxtaposition, but when the two meet, you can genuinely see and hear the Rammstein sound coming together.
Surprisingly, both Emigrate and Lindemann are excellent projects, but if preference takes hold, Till’s extreme outlook is far more entertaining and in line with my own sensibilities. Till just knows how to make a song heavy as sin, incredibly infectious, and utterly preposterous. It’s why I hold Lindemann’s first album,
Skills in Pills, in such high regard, because its English-sung depravity and superb songwriting hits all the right marks. On the other hand,
F & M traded the English-sung approach for his native tongue and the results were far less effective: a record that sounded more like a characterless Rammstein knock-off than the idiosyncratic circus we got first time around. And I’ll be honest,
F & M was a solid record, but I was very disappointed with it, to the point where I showed very little interest for the singles on
Zunge. To confuse matters, this is not the third Lindemann album; this is Till going completely solo and using his full name in all its glory. Despite Lindemann using Till’s surname, the project was a collaboration between Till and Tägtgren, so it goes without saying Peter isn’t present here, despite some glaring similarities in sound.
Overall,
Zunge is an excellent record, and though it’s unfair to compare elements of Rammstein or Lindemann with this, it’s nearly impossible avoiding the elephant in the room. Tracks like “Du hast kein Herz”, “Zunge” and “Sport frei” comport quintessential Rammstein traits, with big choruses and the classic industrial-grinding verse. I think the main distinction between Till’s full-time job and a song like “Nass” comes from the hilarious chugging metal guitars that crunch and clank over Till’s operatic vocals. Everything is just that little bit more abrasive when compared to previous Till projects. I relish in the likes of “Lecker” for this very reason – a gargantuan tune powered by these poignant synths and stomping grooves, with Till interchanging between benign melodies and the raspy bark he acquired during 2020’s
Rammstein. Like it or not, the majority of this album sounds like Rammstein cranked up to beast mode, and for the most part the album does an excellent job catering to fans who prefer the heavier side of that band, with the aforementioned tracks delivering the goods in spades.
However, all of these moments, while great, aren’t the best on the record. While it can’t be denied the Rammstein-on-steroids formula is very enjoyable, it’s nothing we haven’t heard from Rammstein or Lindemann before today. No, for me, the best parts of the record come from the experimentation. One of the best tracks is “Tanzlehrerin”, a reposed flamenco ballad beautifully performed by Till. The track stands out a mile from the rest of the album, but there’s just something so well executed about it. It doesn’t capitulate to the rest of the LP’s hammer-beating disposition and sets out to deliver what it started until the end. Other moments of distinction aren’t quite as large or overt, but they help give the record more distinction. “Altes Fleisch” has this CKY feel to it, with its octave-lathered guitars and sashaying grooves, while “Ubers Meer” has these wonderful 80’s-styled synths that bolster the great melodies throughout. Finally, “Alles fur die Kinder” is probably the weirdest song on here and feels like a fever dream, centred around these dubstep trills and creepy piano notes with children laughing over baby toy jangling. It’s the Till we know and love, but there’s just something intrinsically off with it.
It’s worth pointing out that I arrived here ambivalent, but I knew Till’s abilities well enough to know this wasn’t going to suck.
Zunge basically did exactly what I expected it to. It’s a Rammstein-sounding album with none of the restraint attached to it. There are stronger moments on here, which tend to come from when it’s feeling around for something unknown, but on the whole
Zunge manages to reattain the bombastic songwriting from
Skills in Pills and make something relatively fresh out of it, using the Rammstein baseplate. I will always lament the loss of Lindemann’s ridiculous decadence, which wasn’t used for long enough and died with
Skills in Pills, but
Zunge feels like a feral and ferocious powerhouse; a “What If?” story where Rammstein is ruled by one man.
