Stories

The year 2013. I, aged 22, was about to start my studies in journalism and decided to travel by train through Europe for a month. It was a surprising, sometimes strange, but inspiring trip that filled almost an entire notebook worth of recorded experiences, moments, and thoughts.

On July 3, the train left Zurich Main Station at 9:33 am for Paris for a journey that would end in London.

A day later, I picked up the most expensive concert ticket I'd ever bought (until then, at least). The Rolling Stones live at Hyde Park—Silver Circle access. 200 pounds I paid, and again 180 for two regular tickets I would later hand over to my aunt and uncle who travelled to London too.

Sensu's career shows an undeniable upwards trajectory—not only regarding exposure but very much artistically. The Swiss producer has come far since 2017 when she debuted with the EP Lose Sight.

The early work is heavily inspired by hip-hop's slow beats and a soul-like vibe, clearly audible in her debut album Embrace, released in 2019.

One year later, Sensu was nominated for a Swiss Music Award—as the first woman who «only» produced sound, not as a singer. The jury at SRF 3 Radio wrote in its nomination: «The electro producer breaks down clichés of electronic club music and has created her own music genre.»

Jasmin Peterhans, aka Sensu, started playing the piano at seven. 2010, she began producing her own music. «I wanted to contribute something to hip-hop culture,» she said in an interview with The Pit London. But she gradually shifted towards more intricate electronica, prominently marked by the 2021 single Drawn and the EP Inner Monologue, which draws from both sonic worlds.

The transformation to one of the most lauded electronic acts Switzerland has to offer was completed with last year's EP Numéro LDN. While hip-hop vibes are still present in tracks like Both Sides, a collaboration with rapper Denyher, or Pink with Jamal Bucanon, Sensu's sound now was clearly inspired by UK garage and jungle.

After releasing Numéro LDN, Sensu shared five tracks with us that inspired her in the process, like Overmono's So U Kno. «When I first heard this song in London, I was utterly blown away by the euphoria it triggered in me. […] The details and the build-up are absolutely insane. Overmono are definitely one of the most inspiring acts in the past half-year,» she wrote then.

5 Tracks That Inspired Sensu

Swiss electronica artist Sensu has released a new EP. In this special edition, she shares five tracks that inspired her creative process.

Negative WhiteJanosch Troehler

2023 marks another milestone: AM___PM, released on June 9th, is a small but precious four-track collection showcasing another progression.

While three of the songs have already been released as singles, the collective gathering on the EP prompts a deeper reflection on Sensu's latest work.

Opening the sonic experience is Fuse, featured in one of this year's Weekly5 editions. The track fiercely raves although the UK garage vibe is less present.

However, the gap gets filled with a constant rush of beats, foggy synthesisers, and an alarming melody. Fuse spreads excitement without indulging in cheesy cheerfulness.

Instead, Sensu's sound often sounds more melancholic and thoughtful, compellingly contrasting electronica's pumping nature.

The sombre, almost sinister atmosphere continues in Perfect Life—a collaboration with producer and multi-instrumentalist Lawrence Hart. Here, UK garage makes a comeback, referencing a beat similar to 2022's Hypnotize Me Baby, just faster and crisper.

Perfect Life advances and retracts repeatedly; sometimes, the composition is reduced to its bare minimum, only displaying the beat or the melody, making it even more impressive when Sensu and Hart open all the tabs to unleash the entire arrangement.

Clear My Mind then pushes the pedal to the metal: The hyperactive beat alongside the heavily pitch-shifted vocal sample creates a frantic, restless track, yet grounded by a deeply humming bass in the background.

However, the song's nervousness cannot drown out the fact that Clear My Mind remains the track that requires the most getting used to and is probably the EP's weakest entry.

AM___PM's only previously unreleased track closed the EP. Night Drive features an upbeat ambience; it's almost galloping in its breakbeat.

But at first, the track misleads you: «At the beginning, it appears to be a somewhat harder rave track that could be played in a dark cellar. But then the Arp sounds suddenly pull you into a kind of dream world, and it gets brighter again,» explains Sensu in the press release about one of her favourite tracks on the EP.

«The energy stays until the break and then it feels like a free fall. In the second drop, the euphoria sets in.»

The song feels like a shimmering reconciliation, a sharp handbrake turn away from the gloomy vibe AM___PM features in its other tracks.

«Night Drive is a journey, just like all the different phases of life that we go through,» says Sensu. «The energy stays until the break, and then it feels like a free fall. In the second drop, the euphoria sets in.»

With AM___PM, Sensu again highlights her entitlement as one of Switzerland's most intriguing electronic artists, one that pushes boundaries and explores new territories. Her compositions are highly detailed, precise yet playful, often unconventional and complex.

But what truly sets Sensu apart is her ability to infuse her music with genuine feelings. Whether it's the melancholic atmosphere or the euphoria of a soaring melody, her compositions are always emotionally resonant.

AM___PM is a testament to Sensu's musical skill and commitment to creating music that speaks to the soul and body.

If you attend a band's first gig in your country, there are two possible futures. Option one: The band gets traction and will play in larger venues. And you'll proudly say: I've seen them in front of 30 people. Option two: They don't break, and you'll forget about them.

I went to see the Californian band Thumpasaurus' first concert in Switzerland to find out.

Admittedly, I only learned Thumpasaurus when an email reached me last Tuesday inviting me to their concert at KiFF's Foyer in Aarau, Switzerland. Now, these emails are rare: Usually, you must ask for accreditation to attend a show as a journalist—at least as a reasonably small blogger. So, automatically, you think: They must be pretty desperate to fill the venue.

But the email sounded enthusiastic enough, and I dove into Thumpasaurus' discography. And, man, it's a wild ride: Imagine a blend of rock, punk, funk, and jazz—that's what you can expect from Thumpasaurus.

The band, formed at USC Thornton's Division of Contemporary Music, plays a sound that defies conventions. «There are no two songs on this album that sound alike, and yet they all THUMP. These guys are eclectic and often swing in unpredictable directions,» Music-Survival-Guide writes about their 2021 album Thumpaverse.

After hammering down the highway to Aarau, my first hunch was correct: Pre-sales were underwhelming. About 30 to 40 people found their way to the venue in the city's industrial area. It was a colourful, diverse crowd: Older jazz enthusiasts, young goth girls, and indie fans.

Opening for Thumpasaurus were Juicy Lemon Club, a newcomer band based in Basel, Switzerland. Founded at the beginning of last year, they commit all their time to making it as professional musicians—winning the «BandX-Nordwest» contest in 2022 and the «Waldbühnecontest» of Gurten Festival this year. From the summer of 2023, they will even give up their education to devote themselves entirely to the band.

You never know where the juice will pop out if you squeeze a lemon, and it's the same with Juicy Lemon Club: Funk, soul, rock, jazz, and the occasional ballad—they all found room in their set organically.

While sometimes, you could still feel their youthful naïvety and innocence, the quartet performed their music with stunning professionalism and infectious joy. Timon Sarbass hit the keyboard like a maniac, Juan Helou slammed the drums like the devil himself, and Philippe Pavlu bent himself to the rhythm of his bass as if his life depended on it. And frontwoman Berenice Courvoisier's voice gained more and more passion.

Then, the insanity started.

«You're not normal,» shouted a woman from the audience at one point. And in a way, she was right. Which US band dares to tour Europe with a new album only on the horizon, releasing either at the end of this year or at the start of 2024? And which band has an additional man on stage, creating weird but hilarious visuals?

Back home, Thumpasaurus already gained a loyal following, received cult status, and sold out large venues. In Europe, especially in Switzerland, nobody knows them. At least their hit Struttin' was in Couleur3's heavy rotation.

And with Struttin' and I'm Too Funky, Thumpasaurus started what only can be described as madness. Everything blurred into an irresistible escalation of verve and pressure.

Thumpasaurus burned an incomprehensible firework of deliriousness that words cannot accurately represent. The rapid groove, almost punk in nature; the sophistication in saxophonist Henry Solomon's or stoic keyboarder Paul Cornish's solos; the wild character of bass player Logan Kane; the otherwordly vocal performance of Lucas Tamaren; the apocalyptic stomping in Evil; the weird fusion of Beatles-like sound, children's song and chamber music in Beta Lupi.

I've never experienced a first show like this: The usually reserved, shy Swiss people just went ballistic. Dancing, jumping, clapping like possessed—riled up by Tamaren's natural showmanship and the band's talent to engage with the audience. You could feel that you're witnessing something extraordinary right then and there.

Thumpasaurus had nothing to lose and everything to win. And they took it all.

Rammstein are masters of provocation. Now, the most successful German band finds itself in a perfect storm it didn't anticipate.

What happened? On May 25, Irish woman Shelby Lynn accused the band and its entourage.

As she claims on social media, she was chosen by a woman to stand in a separate area in front of the stage at Rammstein's concert in Vilnius, Lithuania, with other young women. They were taken photos of and promised access to parties around the show.

On Instagram, Shelby Lynn described how she was led backstage during a concert break, where she says she was supposed to have sex with 60-year-old frontman Till Lindemann. When she didn't want to, the singer reacted aggressively, Lynn claimed.

Reports Suggest An Exploitative System

Since then, more women have come forward and told similar stories. While these severe allegations remain just that, investigative reports by established newspapers like the Süddeutsche Zeitung paint a picture of an elaborate system that lures young women into the so-called «Row Zero» and to pre- and after-show-parties where allegedly unconsenting sexual acts and drugs were in order.

Rammstein themselves, who should be used to crisis communication, handled the situation poorly so far. The band's first statement read: «With regard to the allegations circulating on the internet about Vilnius, we can rule out the possibility that what is being claimed took place in our environment. We are not aware of any official investigations into this matter.»

Later, they posted on Instagram: «The publications of the last few days have caused irritation and questions among the public and especially among our fans. The accusations have hit us all very hard and we take them extremely seriously.»

Furthermore, the band states: «We condemn any kind of assault and ask you: Do not engage in public pre-judgements of any kind against those who have made allegations. They have a right to their point of view.» The final sentence of the statement reads: «But we, the band, also have a right—namely not to be pre-judged either.»

Recent reports say that Rammstein banned Alena M., the woman responsible for casting the girls, and engaged a PR agency for crisis communication and lawyers.

Hard Questions Have To Be Asked

As we can tell by these many reports, the system's existence seems likely. Whether something illegal happened needs to be determined by justice.

However, any system that exploits fans through admiration, dependency created by different power levels, and shame raises moral questions.

And as the concept of «Row Zero» at Rammstein's concerts was reportedly an «open secret» and around for years, many people in the music business might also find themselves in the storm. Nobody spoke up—for years.

Toxic Behaviour Followed

But the recent accusations also raise again the issue of unhealthy fandom. It's a well-worn fact that the term «fan» originates in «fanatic». And in the case of Rammstein, it again manifested itself in a way that is unfortunately all too familiar around allegations of (sexual abuse). Mostly male Rammstein fans question, deny, and belittle the allegations. Or worse: They engage in outright victim-blaming, shaming, and insults.

Hardened by previous controversies, Rammstein's huge international fanbase is used to defend the band—probably more than other artists' following. And it's by no means a majority of Rammstein fans that demonstrate toxic behaviour.

But the thing with fandom is: It's a fine line between rational fandom and unreflected support.

The Harsh Breakup

Rammstein's music, as I've written in an article, their music fascinated me when I first heard it.

5 Songs that influenced me

I present five tracks that heavily influenced my taste in music and – maybe – also my personality.

Negative WhiteJanosch Troehler

I saw the band live once and was impressed by their showmanship, like anyone attending their concerts. Nevertheless, I wouldn't describe myself as a huge fan—they're not even heavily featured in my private playlists.

But I can understand that Rammstein's music can be more profound to many people. They love it because it speaks to them emotionally. If you're not one of them, you might not understand, but you don't have to either.

I think we can at least all agree that music's ability to create emotional bonds is one of its most beautiful aspects.

Since I started writing about music in 2010, I've met many artists personally and found myself disappointed—and experiencing sudden breakup-like feelings rising.

So I can empathize with the dilemma that casual, non-toxic Rammstein fans face right now. Because despite what the polarized discourse might suggest: I hope that most people who listen to Rammstein aren't in favour of an abusive, creepy system as it was presented to us in the last couple of weeks. However, they still have an emotional bond with the music (and maybe even the artist) and losing that from one day to another is distressing.

And if you're already typing an angry comment about how I dare to empathize with Rammstein fans, how easy it is just to stop listening to the music, ask yourself: How would you feel if such news broke about your favourite artist?

It's a fight between emotional connection and personal values—and it's hard.

Don't Let Fandom Define You

It's easier said than done: Don't make your appreciation of a particular band or artist an essential part of your personality. It is challenging because the music we like is an expression of identity. And the longer an artist accompanies us through our lives, highs and lows, the deeper and more meaningful that connection becomes.

Once more, the current news around Rammstein, especially the disgusting comments by some hardcore fans, makes a compelling argument against unwavering, uncritical fandom and the glorification of famous people.

It was an earthquake not seen before. In late 2022, OpenAI publicly launched ChatGPT. It became the fastest-growing consumer application ever, attracting 100 million active users in just two months—a mindboggling accomplishment. In comparison, it took popular social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram nine months and 2.5 years, respectively, to reach that number of users.

Artificial intelligence is here to stay, and we can hardly foresee how it will disrupt professions and society. However, the exponential improvements we see frighten even those closest to the technology's development. As a result, many leading experts call for a stop of development—or at least a slow-down.

But beneath the public hype around image generators like Dall-E or Midjourney, AI applications like SoundRaw are already impacting the music industry significantly. It seems like the music business is experiencing its next «Napster moment»—but on steroids.

AI Already Drives The Industry Today

It's worth noting that artificial intelligence has already heavily driven the music business for some years. As a critical actor, Spotify has implemented arguably the best curation and recommendation engines in the streaming business. These forms of AI that we also know from social media platforms are generally described as Curation AI.

And it continues to iterate on its AI integrations, launching a new AI DJ in February. And it won't be the end of the road for features in the coming months—especially now basically the whole world can create plugins with ChatGPT.

Curation AI also impacts how songs are written and performed. In contemporary pop songs, lengthy intros are gone; you need to hook people as quickly as possible. The skip button to the next track is near.

However, while Curation AI comes with its own challenges (but not necessarily in music), generative AI, also called Creation AI, like ChatGPT, is an entirely different beast. Vall-E, for example, is a voice-generating AI that can replicate a voice from just a 3-second snippet.

Now, anybody can create songs with the voice of a famous artist—dead or alive. And yes, there are a lot out there already. Some of them are fun, like Eminem rapping about cats.

Others are outstanding, like the fake song Winters Cold with an AI-generated voice of Drake.

Abundant Legal, Ethical, And Philosophical Questions

For almost 15 years, Thomas Seidmann, Samuel Birrer, and Simon Pfister have been on their musical journey. But in 2018, they came to a crossroads that would determine their future: A change of sonic style, a new name, followed by initial success.

As Yet No Yokai, hailing from Lucerne, Switzerland, the trio won the prestigious m4music Demotape Clinic category «Rock» with their song Fahrenheit and singed with Hummus Records.

After releasing a first EP, Post Apocalyptic Promenade, PT. 2, in 2018, they followed up with an array of singles like Vagus, Yet No Yokai's first entry into Weekly5 in 2020.

In some ways, the long-awaited debut Wir Sind Da undermines a nostalgia-tainted understanding of how one creates a rock song but simultaneously offers us a way forward for the genre.

At its core, Yet No Yokai's songs originated in a romantic, old-fashioned way: jam sessions. So one would assume that the band ended with final compositions through refinements and clean-ups. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

A couple of weeks ago, «riser» was publicly introduced. It's a non-profit association run by established players of Switzerland's music business that set out to highlight local up-and-coming artists. In two different formats, newcomer bands would get the chance to prove themselves on stage.

On May 25, they held the first event of their «riser.AMP» series in Zurich's Exil Club. The promise of the format sounds intriguing:

«Established artists and bands choose two young up-and-coming artists and create a show together. The rising artists are not overshadowed but are part of a joint performance.»

But, however intriguing the promise, it's also rather vague. And you could define two factors that decide the format's success or failure:

• How many people show up?
• What does the joint performance look like?

Preemptively said: One of these two has significant room for improvement.

Spot-on Selection

There are enough reasons to be sceptical about «riser». The main question floating around my head as I walked in the concrete valleys of Western Zurich was: Will there be enough people?

The established artist of the first «riser.AMP», Jack Stoiker's punk rock band Knöppel, had to nominate two up-and-coming bands. And their selection was spot on: Mamba Bites and Fluffy Machine, both hailing from the French part of Switzerland.

Knöppel, the unlikely phenomenon that found unexpected popularity with their 2016 album Hey Wichsers (Engl: Hey Wankers), are still surfing on that wave despite having released Faszination Glied (Engl: Fascination Penis) in 2019 and working on a new record scheduled for this year.

Their peak might be relatively long ago, but Knöppel still manage to draw crowds in—so «riser.AMP» could deliver on their promise towards the newcomers: The club was packed.

The Rising Stars Deliver

Mamba Bites and Fluffy Machine delivered. Mamba Bites, an all-female trio, immediately generated pressure, playing unapologetically loud. The club's sound system screeched. But beneath their rampant, aggressive noise, you could detect sophistication in refined composition. Just take the climactic final stretch of Temporary Nature.

And just as I thought it was a shame that it still feels quite unusual to see women conjuring such ecstatic punk punches, the bass player lifted the instrument over her head, revealing the message: «More women on stage.»

Later, the surf punkers from Fluffy Machine demonstrated how only a couple of years more experience could add to a performance. So, while Mamba Bites released their first demo in 2020, Fluffy Machine published their debut, It's Funny Cause He's Fat, in 2017 and played quite extensively in the UK.

Fluffy Machine are natural entertainers and jokesters who are as confident as they are self-aware and ironic. They know that they're creating party music—and embrace it fully. Yet, despite their joking attitude, they're professionals, able to play with relaxed cool. With their latest two singles, nah nah nah and i'm always high (when i see you smile), they also demonstrated their potential to craft addictive hymns.

And after these talented musicians riled up the audience and filled the Exil club with a smell of stale beer, sweat and farts, Knöppel took the stage and seemed hilariously amateurish. Yet, their cult hits, driven by simplistic three chords and Jack Stoiker's absolutely amelodic voice, are just a blueprint of punk's spirit.

Not Creative Enough

Usually, I would conclude: It was a perfect punk rock night. Loud music, pogo, beer, exuberance. You can't wish for much more.

However, regarding the vague outline of the format and its promise of a «joint performance», the evening didn't live up to its potential.

Daniel Mittag, aka Jack Stoiker, and his bandmate Marc Jenny on Contrabass introduced each of the rising artists' performances. They played one song and then let the new generation take the stage.

While these interludes are out of the ordinary, it wasn't enough to make the evening feel different from a traditional show. Knöppel still were undoubtedly the headliner catching the spotlight—and Mamba Bites and Fluffy Machine did their best to convince. So in a sense, they were probably overshadowed.

Why not split Knöppel's set: Three songs in the beginning, middle, and end? Or an actual collective performance? Or Knöppel covering a track from both bands? The punk rock theme lends itself perfectly to creative, maybe weird, but lovable ideas.

Admittedly, those suggestions come with many complications and additional effort in preparation and production, especially considering it's a one-off.

Moreover, it's a fine line: How creative can you get without scaring away the audience? How can you manage the fan's expectations regarding the established act—and how much can you subvert them? After all, it's hard to convince people to check out newcomers, as was again made aware when the «Strom & Drang» festival had to cut one whole day because of devastatingly low pre-sales.

However, it's too soon to draw a definitive conclusion after only one event, and the first one at that. While «riser.AMP» might not have delivered fully on all their promises, the most important thing was that Mamba Bites and Fluffy Machine could showcase their talent to Zurich's audience while receiving fair compensation.

After an often miserable and grey week, for once, the evening sky presents itself only tainted by a few clouds. The city is vibrating with anticipation of the weekend this Friday, and a fire crackles in front of Bogen F. The venue, located in one of the arches of a train viaduct in Zurich, is buzzing with people. The trains rattle over the nearby tracks.

A crowd of middle- to older-aged people is sipping beers and the occasional glass of white wine. It's almost your stereotypical classical music audience, but not quite.
Then again, Martin Kohlstedt is also not quite your stereotypical pianist. One could argue, not even close, and some purists might even entirely disapprove of his approach.

The concert on this evening is sold out. In fact, so is even the additional show two days later. Rescheduled two times due to Covid-19, the concert is now happening. And honestly, I'm not here on an official reporting mission, but to finally accept the tickets I got for my 30th birthday almost three years ago.

My first encounter with Martin Kohlstedt was on the 27th of October, 2017. A bit after 7 pm, he took the stage in the church of Kaltern, South-Tirol, at the «Kaltern Pop Festival». And I was baffled by his performance, writing in the festival diary:

Pianist Kohlstedt transports piano sounds into undiscovered dimensions through loops and synthesisers. Imposing like a supernova, lovely like a starry sky and dangerous like an asteroid belt are his pieces. Yet, like outer space, his compositions never lose their fascination despite their vastness.

But the most memorable experience remains the 2019 feature for Negative White—where I talked more profoundly with Kohlstedt about his music and unique process. «I'm a little boy who doesn't want to be defined by anything,» Kohlstedt said back then.

His music, in recorded form, defies the traditional definition of songs. They are fragments, sketches, and ideas. Kohlstedt refers to his songs, each named with three letters, as vocabulary. «There are the old piano pieces, the yearning vocabulary of a time when you didn't know exactly but rather dreamed and shot. At some point, electronics interfered, made it all real, crept in almost like a threat from the side, questioned everything,» he explained in the feature.

This contrasting discourse is the source of energy driving him to keep cultivating his vocabulary.

With his now extensive vocabulary, spanning several albums—or maybe: dictionaries—improvisation is the lubricant of his concerts. There is no set list and no pre-defined programme. Instead, it's pure uncertainty, which is already outrageous for most artists and audiences alike.

But Kohlstedt deals with it openly, and many in Bogen F already know what to expect. However, his transparency always releases the tension and expectation—if only a little.

Almost like an alchemist, Kohlstedt bends over his workstation, but instead of ingredients, he strikes keys, pushes buttons, and turns knobs. The result is breathtaking. Kohlstedt leads us into his labyrinth, and despite knowing it, you still constantly wonder: How far ahead does he plan? Is there even a plan? Or did I just glimpse a brief moment of doubt when his seeking gaze crossed over the instruments?

In those split seconds of uncertainty shared with the audience, the tension is sky-high. But on that evening, Kohlstedt suddenly counters these moments always with inspiration and intuition. «The interaction between this simple sound, which actually wants to be what it is, and all the limits you set yourself all day. This ambivalence is an incredible drive to leave more and more variables loose and to strive for an almost one hundred per cent free concert, where you don't play towards an end,» he said in 2019.

A Profoundly Human Experience

And so we follow deeper into his maze, and Kohlstedt, as our guide, remains as clueless as we are about what may wait behind the next turn. Once, it's an apocalyptic dub-like sound, stomping heavily beneath the stone arch. Or it's some kind of quirky jazz symphony. Yet, there's this all-encompassing tendency to the cinematic—whether the composition resides in intimacy or grows into a soaring, rumbling, gigantic monster.

Kohlstedt's approach is barely a recipe but more a mindset that makes for a captivating experience. But also an exhausting one because it demands your undivided attention. As for the artist himself, there's no security, no recognisable lifeline to hold on to, but only the fragments of vocabulary you know from the recordings.

And so every evening with Martin Kohlstedt becomes a unique exercise in vulnerability, empathy, and liberation from expectations. An experience between artist and audience unlike any other, but it is also profoundly human as risk and failure are not just a danger but an accepted part of that shared moment.