God Help Us: Tokio Hotel Are Back

Ich muss durch den Monsun! If those five words just made your left eye twitch, you already know. Tokio Hotel confirmed a comeback. Their producer announced the album was finished, a release date was being selected, live shows would follow. Four years of blessed, healing silence—over.

I’d filed them away alongside Crazy Frog and other unspeakable things the early 2000s produced, in the mental cabinet labelled Things That Happened and We Don’t Revisit. Apparently that cabinet has a broken hinge.

Survival strategy, for anyone who needs one: first, remove from your home everything capable of producing sound—televisions, radios, the neighbor who always has something on. Second, pool resources with whoever will listen, acquire the rights to whatever televised pop competition still happily platforms this kind of thing, and cancel it on sight. Third, and this is the terminal option: if steps one and two fail, simply accept that some sounds cannot be escaped, only outlasted. Find good headphones. Or move somewhere with no radio towers. Antarctica is beautiful in summer, apparently.