Germany - Luna Kafé - Full Moon 10 - 08/18/97
Blümchen
Verliebt
Edel
For the moment nearly every record shop in Germany is decorated with her
face and sells her CDs in stacks. So I thought I couldn't keep from
reviewing her latest CD. The person behind "Blümchen" is Jasmin Wagner, a
schoolgirl from Germany who went straight to stardom with the help of a
clever producer team and support of a big record company. The music is
basically the commercial europop music of the nineties, high speed techno
rhythms with simple melodies and sparse lyrical content that is
repeated several times to avert the listener's attention from the
otherwise uninteresting music. The tracks all sound the same with little
variation in the patterns and melodies. The lyrics deal with the typical
problems of girls in puberty - boys, boys, and boys. And everything presented
in a way that all parents can tolerate - even for the youngest children.
Obviously Blümchen is an identification symbol for the youngest
generation of rock and pop fans. But it makes me wonder why even people
in their twenties still listen to this kind of music. Is it the confident
manner in which she sings the stupidest lines that her producers want her
to sing? The perfectly presented image of innocent sexiness? The
smoothly-flowing well-produced trash-pop?
It is clear that Blümchen is just the flavor of the month. Successful as a
teenage star right know, but when she gets older she will probably be
exchanged for the "next big thing" very fast.
Interestingly, the first song on this CD is a cover version of Nur
geträumt, originally by Nena, everybody's darling from the early eighties
who is best known for her hit 99 Luftballons. Blümchen is following in
her footsteps right know. Nena has seen several highs and lows in her
career since then. Right know she is trying a comeback with a new image,
playing in smaller venues all over Germany. I wonder which highs and lows
Jasmin Wagner has to face until she finally finds a place of her own
where lasting success is more than just a dream.
Copyright © 1997 Lonely Locke
|