If in this city of supercooled cocaine-douchebags, Green-Day-Wannabees, and Peaches-Electro-Look-A-Likes that is Berlin; if in this city a band is imaginable that still raises some hope amongst them gentrification plagued Ex-Berlin-Mitte-Troopers and Kreuzbergian Ex-Punks, a band that makes them reminisce about the wonderfully, anarchic before-the-wall-came-down-Berlin (Geniale Dilettanten!), and short-after-the-wall-came-down-Berlin (Berlin, Tokyo!), if – at all – a band like this is existent, I can only think of CHUCKAMUCK.
Naturally, this secret has been revealed quite a while ago, and Chuckmuck are pretty much talk of the town already, but chances are that you, my dear ruction-lover, are no resident of Berlin. And the underage-garage-powerpop stars around cartoonist and songwriter Oska Wald and his school mates Lorenz, Jules, and Julius haven’t yet played too often outside of the city limits for a reason – yes, you guessed so, they still do go to school.
For three years now, Chuckamuck are lining up as brave, Dionysian junior stars, standing in the tradition of all good early Beat- and Punkbands (Beatles, Sex Pistols, Damned…). And unlike a million tighty-pants-Indierock-bands out there (“Indierock must die, so we can live again” (Jens Balzer (via Slime), Berliner Zeitung), they surely didn’t waste their time attending lessons by outdated Progrock-guitar tutors, studying some U2 or Genesis-licks before entering their practice room.
In the world of Chuckamuck, the very first songs (“Mars Mandel”) are evidence of the very first hours spent practicing. The process of songwriting itself, just like the boredom that is exercising, instantly turned into a party with souvenir! The pleasant and astounding news: These songs immediately became popular anthems, that simply pretend that songs like “Wild Thing”, “Louie, Louie”, “Neat Neat Neat” had never existed befor. And just that matter of fact, dear friend of extravaganza, does not at all relate to any dull form of claim, proposition or even unconsciousness. There’s just one explanation: It runs in their bloody system!
Chuckamucks songs are bursting with eagerness and romantic furor like it can only happen to a Teen. Over the moon, down in the dumps! In frantic 2 minutes 30! Of course, all songs are solely about love (just like it's always been with real Rock’n’Roll bands). About new love ("Schlaf noch nicht"/"Don’t sleep yet"), about disappointed love ("Mein Hund und ich"/My dog and I"), about hot love ("Eis am Stil"/"(Lemon) Popsicle"), about bizarre love ("Souvenirs") that later becomes a declaration of love to the great TV Personalities ("Dan Tracey").
To cut it short: This band doesn’t sound well-controlled like paunchy music producers might wish. They sound raw and wild! Stout and hilarious.
And, even worse for aforementioned music producers, Chuckamuck are simply writing the best songs you can think of in terms of “unplaned Powerpop in German language” – occasionally in a somewhat childish, Dadaistic “Denglish” – just like non-native-speakers sometimes do as children, because they simply wouldn’t understand English yet!
Which part of the lyrics one understands – and which parts are just not comprehensible at all, forget it! One thing is certain: “Wild For Adventure” is by far the best debut album of a band of youngsters that one could have ever imagined in their wildest dreams in this land of Lena-Lala-Landruths, pop academy pandemia, and blunt business economist poppers.
And while other Mid-Twen Bands live on the Depression-Rock-dream of their forefathers and patrons, our Teen heroes have just discovered the original reason for being a band: the joy of playing around! Fun and excitement. A fortune of hedonism meeting infinite grandeur and bottomless cheek. This is: Sexbeat. Remember?