Sido’s Softening

There was a time when Sido was actually dangerous. I mean, he had that mask thing, some distance between himself and Paul Hartmut Würdig, whoever that guy actually is. But the music came out mean and sexual and he didn’t care what anyone thought about it. The early stuff, Mein Block, Strip für mich, Fuffies im Club—crude as hell, meant for people living in Berlin on the margins, kids who had nothing going for them. That was real.

That version doesn’t exist anymore. Somewhere between being a threat and being marketable, something just broke. He’s doing television now, acting in things, making choices that keep him employable and safe. His songs went from being the sound of the margins to being what suburban women hum in their cars.

Pyramiden is probably the final betrayal. He’s singing it with Johannes Oerding, this harmless pop guy, and the whole song is about how we’re all people, we all matter, we should just get along. It’s designed to offend no one. The old Sido would have put these people through a wall. Now he’s harmonizing with them about human dignity over some bloated radio arrangement.

What gets me is that it probably works. That’s the thing about going mainstream—you don’t fail, you just succeed at being acceptable. You figure out what people will buy and you make peace with it. Rent is expensive. Tours pay. Television pays even better than being dangerous.

But something dies when you make that deal, and after long enough you stop even noticing it’s gone. You’ve got the career, the family, the setup. You lost the thing that made anyone actually listen.