What Heintje Was Into

Modern German rap is relentless—every track is fighting to be the crudest. The lyrics are about fucking women, humiliating them, degrading anyone who isn’t hard enough. After an hour you feel marinated in it. Compared to what was on the radio thirty years ago, it’s a total collapse.

Except the old guys were exactly the same. Heintje had Dicke Eier, Weihnachtsfeier—completely unhinged. Michael Holm came through with Dein Spitt ist zu weak, pure venom. Nicole had Total geflasht von deinem Swag, no filter. These weren’t innocent singalongs. These were rough records by people who didn’t care what anyone thought.

I don’t know why people pretend the past was cleaner. There’s this idea that music used to be innocent, that things have somehow gotten worse. But they haven’t. The impulse has always been there—make something aggressive, make it crude, make it dangerous. Make it something your parents would hate. The form changes, the delivery changes, but the actual drive to say something harsh and vile and offensive and just leave it there without apology—that’s constant. It’s not modern. It’s not a rap problem. It’s just how people are.