Review
With "Reise, Reise", Rammstein serves up a thunderstorm of sonic brute-force—each track a meticulously engineered diesel-beast roaring across the autobahn of heavy music. Never content to just pummel your eardrums, they lace each industrial juggernaut with sugar-shards of melody that get their claws in deep (try prying "Amerika" out of your skull once it burrows in). That opener isn’t just a wake-up call—it’s a full-on parade boot to the senses, harkening back to militaristic muster but spinning it into a black mirror of modernity. Meanwhile, Jacob Hellner’s production ducks and weaves, balancing brutality with crisp clarity like a mad clockmaker synchronized to the hammering of steel pistons—but I digress.
Lyrically, these Teutonic tailspinners wield a pen dipped in equal parts gallows-humor and existential dread, never blinking in the face of cannibalistic taboo ("Mein Teil") or bittersweet ache ("Ohne dich", a heartbleed-ballad that sidles up like a bruise under a leather jacket). There’s a ripple of social critique running beneath the surface, but Rammstein reflects the absurdity of the modern age with a tongue planted so far in cheek it punctures right through—delightful schadenfreude-pop, if you will. As the tracks sequence from blitzkrieg to bittersweet, the album never quite lets you catch your breath, instead demanding a second spin before the last note’s even faded. "Reise, Reise" is Rammstein’s siren call to arms—and breakfast of champions for anyone with a taste for melodic mayhem. - Dexter
