Sibbe
Jestalte
un
en
Schlaachzeil,
irjendwie
komisch,
ir'ndjet
stemp
do
nit.
Die
wesse
mieh,
als
se
bewiese
künne.
Jedenfalls
mieh,
als
deck
un
fett
behauptet
weed.
Drusse
litt
Schnie
un
drinne
weed
et
laut,
et
sprudelt
Strophe,
Riffs
un
Melodie.
Wie't
ussieht,
weed
endlich
Musik
jemaht
he,
noh
Ewigkeite
widder
su
wie't
sich
für'n
Band
jehührt.
Kumm,
loss
ens
hühre!
Kumm,
loss
probiere!
Kumm,
lommer
fiere!
(Wat
'e
Johr!)
Wat
'e
unfaßbar
Johr
dat
woor!
(Wat
'e
Johr!)
Wat
'e
unnormal
Johr,
wat
'e
wundebar
Johr
dat
woor!
Theater,
Stadthalle,
Hotelbars
un
en
Oper,
monatelang
em
Bus
op
Autobahne,
skeptische
Blecke
bess
et
Ihß
jeschmolze,
bess
alles
steht,
et
jeht
met
weh'nde
Fahne
aff.
Sibbe
Jestalte
vüür'ner
Leinwand,
schon
unjewohnt
he
op
dä
Kinobühn!
Hinger
der
Kam'ra
einer,
dä
die
Band
kpaiert
hätt,
als
wöhr
se
sujet
wie'ne
unjedriehte
Film
vun
ihm.
Seven
figures
and
a
headline,
somehow
funny,
something
doesn't
fit
here.
They
know
more
about
me
than
they
can
prove.
At
least
more
than
they
claim
boldly
and
in
bold
print.
Outside
there's
snow
and
inside
it's
getting
loud,
verses,
riffs
and
melodies
are
bubbling
up.
Looks
like
music
is
finally
being
made
again,
after
ages
it
feels
like
it
should
for
a
band.
Come
on,
let's
listen!
Come
on,
let's
try
it
out!
Come
on,
let's
celebrate!
(What
a
year!)
What
an
incredible
year
it
was!
(What
a
year!)
What
an
extraordinary
year,
what
a
wonderful
year
it
was!
Theatres,
city
halls,
hotel
bars
and
an
opera
house,
months
on
the
bus
on
motorways,
sceptical
looks
until
the
ice
melted,
until
everyone
stood
up,
their
flags
waving.
Seven
figures
in
front
of
a
canvas,
already
unusual
here
on
the
cinema
stage!
Behind
the
camera,
one
who
understood
the
band,
as
if
it
were
the
subject
of
an
unmade
film
of
his.