this DJ Blogs Himself

Author: blogshimself

  • Cora und die Popspatzen – Wie wär’s mit Schulfreiem Montag? (1980)

    Cora und die Popspatzen – Wie wär’s mit Schulfreiem Montag? (1980)

    Kool Herc forgive me for I have sinned: I am obsessed with early 1980s Hip Hop from Germany. When the Breakdance craze first hit the old world through hit records played in GI nightclubs, everyone wanted in on the action, especially random Major-Label Schlager producers aiming to ride a wave they knew very little about. This mix between musical ambition, technical ineptitude and the obvious dissonance between the vibe of a regular 1980s German person (stuck up, rule-abiding, bad vibes) and the vibe of one of these original early Hip Hop tracks (loose, generally chill, good vibes) created some fascinating, often terrible music.

    But the very best of early German and European Hip Hop turns these disadvantages into strengths – its inadequacies in production, storytelling and technical prowess making it more real and charming. And few records are as charming as Wie wär’s mit Schulfreiem Montag? by Cora und die Popspatzen.

    But in order to properly talk about this endearing record I want to bring up another record, with which Cora is in competition for the all-important title of “first German Hip Hop record ever released”. And of course,when I’m talking about Hip Hop, I mean that in the sense of Breakdancing, Scratching and colorful clothes just on the tail end of Disco, made for a society struggling to tell apart Kool & the Gang from Barry White. Well, while several records claim that spot for themselves (See for example: Cheeky’s “Erste Deutsche Scratch- & Break-Platte“), as far as I know there are two releases that actually compete for the title, having come out in the same month of 1980 – and both of them are novelty cover versions of extremely popular early Hip Hop tracks.

    No. 1: Rapper’s Deutsch by G.L.S.-United

    This particular record is somewhat dear to me, because it is the ultimate cash-grab novelty Breakdance record, one of many that started flooding the German market around that time. It has so stunningly little reverence for Hip Hop and its origins that you have to kind of respect it.

    Basically, three Radio- and TV-hosts popular in 1980 “cover” Rapper’s Delight by the Sugarhill Gang. Meaning they rap their own vocals on top of the iconic backing track, in which they discuss the different types of Rock music they like. Frank Laufenberg likes 60s Beat, Manfred Sexauer likes 50s Rock’n’Roll, Thomas Gottschalk – who went on to become probably Germany’s most popular entertainer for a little while, and is by all accounts a massive asshole and a creep – likes New Wave.

    The whole thing is kind of a disaster, it sounds like they only did a few takes and none of the three have ever used their voice rhythmically in any capacity. However, Rapper’s Delight’s funky bassline and catchy progression carry even the most arrhythmic middle-aged Germans, so it somehow still goes down alright. However, I’ve not listened to my copy in probably around 6 years. If anything, I’ve pulled it out to show people that “Thomas Gottschalk, who we used to watch on television when we were children, made an early Hip Hop record, and it sucks!” It exudes novelty on a scale so great that you don’t even need to play it.

    No. 2: Wie wär’s mit Schulfreiem Montag? by Cora und die Popspatzen

    Wie wär’s mit Schulfreiem Montag gives an insight into who record executives wanted to market Hip-Hop to at that time: Children. It is possibly the first in a long line of novelty Hip-Hop records for kids that were released in the first half of the 1980s. Pick up a random kids movie soundtrack or a compilation of children’s music from around that time, and chances are you will find a crisp drum computer pattern paired with slightly rap-adjacent vocals.

    Cora is a young girl who relatably wants nothing more than taking Monday off. And in order to achieve that goal she covers Joe Bataan’s seminal Rap-O-Clap-O with her “Popspatzen” (Pop sparrows). This is probably top 5 in the “most charming records I own” bracket. Obviously, this is a presumably 9-year old girl. But she certainly delivers her rhymes better than all three middle-aged radio talk show hosts combined. The mundane topic of the vocals perfectly gels with the moody-yet-terribly-danceable chords of Bataan’s noodly Disco-Rap-Classic. The dissonant kids choir in the song’s chorus packs a punch. Everything might be slightly repetitive, but the song doesn’t overstay its welcome. A lot of people might wave their hand at this. But for a highly specific set of idiots, which includes me, it doesn’t get much better than this.

    Funnily enough, I always thought that this release was produced as a cash-in by some seasoned producer on a Tuesday before moving on to the next NDW-Schlager, but actually the story is stranger: In 1970 Marcel Schaar contributed a few vocals for the Krautrock classic Delusion by Swiss band McChurch soundroom, then released his debut LP Dreams Consumed (Engineered by Kraut godfather Conny Plank!) to no one caring before he disappeared for a couple of years.

    He returned to RCA in 1977 with a childrens LP by the aforementioned Popspatzen, which looks like it had little commercial traction. Three years later, out of nowhere, the Rap-O-Clap-O cover, which was possibly his last foray into publishing music. These days he apparently lives in Neu Wulmstorf in the north of Germany, where he fronts “the top band of the German country scene” and plays local events. As of eight years ago, he’s still publishing songs about pubic hair on his SoundCloud. Maybe I should drop him a message.

    I am unsure how I first found out about Cora’s plea for the four day workweek, it might have been through some Facebook post, from which I added it to my Discogs wantlist 9 years ago. Ever since, the 7” was out of my reach and high on my wantlist. Initially I just didn’t want to spend 25€ on a children’s record, then it just never showed up for sale and ballooned in price. Given that it was released on RCA it seems to be surprisingly rare, and due to its special-interest nature copies were always snatched up quickly.

    Yet, I just kept getting this damn song stuck in my head. And I don’t even like Rap-O-Clap-O that much, like it’s not even a top 10 Joe Bataan song. Sidenote: There is even another German cover version of Rap-O-Clap-O from 1980 but this one truly doesn’t hold the candle to Cora due to its very novel decision to have a fake opera singer sing the hook, which is not to say that I don’t own it for archival purposes.

    Either way, ages passed and I had given up hope on a copy. I started digging further into electronic music, faded out my regular bar gigs, which I used to do every other weekend for cab fare and unlimited fancy cocktails all over Berlin, and with that pretty much stopped buying 7”s altogether. The chance to get in on Cora and her Popspatzen seemed past. UNTIL I turned 30.

    For that occasion I organised a little outdoor rave around that classic Open Air spot at Jungfernheide, invited all my friends, and had an absolute blast. At that party, my dear old friend Max Harder aka Wachs Max aka Discoprinz aka one of the nicest people I ever met showed up with not one but two gifts. While the music was playing and people were sniffing drugs laying about on blankets in the dust, Max first handed me a book. It was the legendary Berlin Graffiti-biography Odem – On The Run. I had never actually owned a copy, but this book had still been foundational to my teen fascination with painting things. This was already an insanely great and thoughtful gift. And then, this madman whips out Cora Und Die Popspatzen – Wie Wärs Mit Schulfreiem Montag? and my mind is blown. Like, I knew that he had a copy, but this was a 100€ record at that point.

    Since I have received this, I have to be honest, I have only played it a couple of times at home. I just rarely get the chance to play this kind of music out at the moment. However, I feel like by owning this forever-want, I ALMOST closed the chapter on my obsession with collecting early German rap rares — even though I know there is much more to discover, of course. Now all I need to find is a copy of “Ich bin Durchsichtig” and then I am sure there will not be another record to obsess over ever again.

    PS: Oh, the B-side I was very excited to listen to since from what I can tell it was never uploaded anywhere. Was it going to be another banger? In short, no, it’s a serviceable country-tinged melancholic kids song about travelling the world. It’s fine, really.

  • Dougal & Gammer – Pump Up The Noise (2003)

    Dougal & Gammer – Pump Up The Noise (2003)

    Alternative title: How I learned to stop worrying and love being dumb.

    Who reads blog texts these days? Well, at least one person I guess (that’s you!). Still, you probably know you’re not in the majority, and that’s why I’ve thought a lot about how to kick things off around here. I’d love to use this space to speak about musical passions that I don’t get to showcase much as part of my DJing, but I also don’t want to alienate people who know me for high octane late night hazy closing sets by immediately talking about sleazy Disco made by Krautrock survivors in the mid-80s. We’ll get there, though, don’t worry.

    While I generally want to dedicate each blog entry to a single record, my initial idea for getting this thing off the ground was to start with a numbered list early in the year 2026: “These are my top 10 most played records of last year”. I’d write 2-3 paragraphs per record and get people hyped for more in-depth content, while flexing my rhetoric muscles and showing off my vast inside baseball knowledge.

    However, you’ve seen how long this text about a single record is, and you know very well that it isn’t early January anymore. List season is over and I simply love being wordy too much, so a popular listicle is off the table. Instead, I thought I’ll start with what is probably the most iconic track from my bag in 2025. The track that has released the most endorphins in my body (and possibly yours) over my entire DJ “career”, “Pump Up the Noise” by Dougal and Gammer.

    Happy Himbo Hardcore will never die

    I am a firm believer that for every person there exists the right cult, scam, gambling opportunity or all-encompassing hobby that, if introduced at the right moment, will make them swiftly and willingly throw their life away. That is why I always feel a lot of empathy towards anyone who falls for these things, because I know I am literally one friendly conversation away from blowing every bit of money I have on some esoteric MMORPG inspired by Flamenco or crypto currency, or, worse, become a bike guy. With this preamble I ask you to feel some empathy towards me for how much I love and how often I have played this certified dumb guy track.

    As a certified dumb guy, ”Pump Up The Noise” is easily among my favorite tracks in the world. There’s few feelings that come close to the ecstasy of that breakdown, that simple glorious melody so catchy I can imagine a packed football stadium chanting along to it while it’s stumbling towards euphoric inevitability. Let alone that the whole track with its pitched up generic rap sample is such a joy to mix. When Hihat first introduced me to it, I heard it in the drunken blur of one of our closing sets, probably liked it, but didn’t think more of it – until I started randomly waking up multiple times a week with its lead melody stuck in my brain. Inevitably I jacked it from him, and have been tormenting crowds and dancefloors with it at almost every set around that tempo in the year 2025 – see Hihat’s & my Fusion recording for example, or also Young Lychee and me rinsing it on Rinse France.

    This text is probably not the right place to get deeper into Dougal & Gammer – their joint discography and individual discographies are simply too vast and too mixed for me to claim that I could give a proper overview, let alone a sizzling hot take on them. I will leave it at this: You don’t survive this long in such a volatile business as the hardcore business without adapting – which can lead to some duds that haven’t stood the test of time. The two of them put out such a vast amount of tracks together, especially during the revival of Essential Platinum (2002), some of which is among the greatest moments of synthesis between mid-90s Happy Hardcore, later Happy Hardcore, trance and big room sensibilities, but some of which I would not touch with a 175 bpm ft pole.

    In this case the stars aligned: Between Dougal’s 90s sensibilities, Gammer’s ear for a catchy melody, and what feels to me like the hardcore scene’s desire for slightly less cheesed up alternatives in the early 00s, “Pump Up the Noise” never sounded fresher, and you can expect to hear it at another hundred gigs from me.

    That would have been a good end to the text, at least that’s what I thought. Until I realised that I wrote about the B-Side the whole time, and practically forgot to say anything about the A-Side: Dougal’s & Gammer’s remix of “Jam the Nightclub” is, you know, alright. 

    The original version of the track by Dougal & Reality has become a staple in high energy sets of HiHat and myself, and I still really love how well its melody works with its Darude – Sandstorm style synth. It’s not “Pump Up The Noise”, but it works as a sort of companion piece to it.

    Dougal’s and Gammer’s version replaces the Darudishness with the full on brash and bright synths you’re thinking of when you think of 00s Happy Hardcore, thus sacrificing the original’s coolness on the altar of cheese. It also adds a fun bass sound that feels almost DnB-coded, but for me the damage is done. This remix is fully representative of the kind of technically proficient but in my view often forgettable track that came out in the mainstream days of Happy Hardcore on labels like Essential Platinum, Raver Baby, Next Generation Records, or, to some extent, Quosh – in the sense that I can respect how well its production shoves the emotional square waves down your throat with an extremely high energy level, but it’s missing fun, depth and a connection to its foundations in 90s UK Hardcore.

    If I’m honest, though, even if that track was solid gold, I’d be sitting here rationalising why I never play it in favor of my favorite dumb guy track. SORRY!

  • Welcome to my Bloghouse

    Welcome to my Bloghouse

    I’m so glad you made it!

    My name is Niklas, I live in Berlin, and you might know me as “DJ Fucks Himself” depending on how you came across this page. I love music, and I also love reading and writing about music.

    On this blog, I want to create an archive of texts dedicated to specific records that have had an impact on me. My goal is to use these texts to not only dive into what makes these records special on a musical level, what their relationship is to certain genres and movements and whatever, but to talk about what makes them special to me. Where did I play it out first? Who showed it to me? What godforsaken Berlin flea market did I find it at while still awake after some mediocre party?

    Ideally, I’d love this blog to be part anecdotes, part passionate pleas to hit play on that YouTube-embed, part reflections on the “scene” and part incentive for me to stalk some 90s producers on LinkedIn or wherever they are now. And if you’re one of the 30 people worldwide to whom that sounds like a good time, I’m really psyched to have you on board.

    Before diving in further, let me address the question on everyone’s mind: “A blog? What is it, 2011?”

    No, it’s not 2011 unfortunately

    In short: Sure, why not! I know that in 2011 I was definitely spending way more time reading about music than I do now. I love the medium. I believe there is too little music writing around nowadays, especially about things that aren’t “current thing”. And I feel like writing little subjective texts about records is the best way for me to engage with other nerds who love this kind of stuff, even if it’s just 10 other people. And for me it sure beats “Hey Guys”-ing my way through some vertical video content – though please don’t call me a hypocrite if I still do that.

    I used to write about music for a few magazines back in the 2010’s when I had aspirations to make a living as a music journalist. Sadly, that didn’t work out due to my lack of organisation and dedication (smoking tons of hash every day probably didn’t help). Once I faced the fact that I was not going to be hired for one of the 20-ish culture journalism jobs left in the country I withdrew not only from the writing, but also partially from what had instilled that vision in the first place: reading exciting texts about exciting music.

    It’s not like it was a conscious decision, more that I felt freed from the burden of an ambition that forced me to keep up with the most recent Miley Cyrus thinkpieces. With record digging becoming more of a focus because of DJ gigs picking up, and my own music production, event organising and label work taking more and more time towards the end of that decade, I left the music longread by the wayside and rarely looked back. Until last year, when at a posh Hamburg wine bar, I was recommended the fine dining blog trois etoiles.

    On paper this wasn’t supposed to be too exciting for me. I like nice food and good restaurants as much as the next guy, but I was never curious or wealthy enough to really dip my toes deep into the world of Michelin stars and snobby reviews — and yet I became fully obsessed with this bougie review blog about Michelin-starred restaurants. For a full weekend I was fully caught up in reading about food I’d likely never taste or afford, but that wasn’t the point. The point was discovering this treasure trove of text that passionately divulged all this highly specific information while staying strictly subjective.

    It threw me back to a world in which I spent each day devouring nerdy Blogspot posts and forum threads on highly obscure 70s records. The experience of getting fully sucked into a blog of all things lit a certain fire in me again, and it gave me hope for the medium in general. If I could become obsessed with reading hundreds of restaurant reviews, maybe at some point in the future someone would enjoy stumbling over my texts – especially given that there really isn’t an infinite amount of writing about the kinds of music I like on the internet – and spend a weekend slurping up my texts about obscure records?

    Around the same time another big inspiration entered the picture: I became an avid reader of Joe Delon’s newsletter. To be honest, I had not been familiar with his work as a DJ or curator or his label Welt Discos, but I think someone shared his mention of a certain release on Twitter or IG, and I just entered my email address and became a follower, because why not, I already have 13.101 unread emails currently, might as well add some more to the pile. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I became completely enamoured with his approach to writing about music and DJing. 

    The first thing that caught me was his honesty. I think I have become so used to the Instagram way of “wow guys what was that thanks so much for that incredible energy”-ing your way through even the shittiest experiences, that Delon transparently talking about the highs as well as the lows of existing in that field, even mentioning his own failings, is incredibly refreshing. On a related note, he writes about all of these amazing gigs he gets to play in such a humble and plain way that it demystifies them at the same time as reminding you what’s really great about nightlife: Listening to sick tracks on a good system with all of your friends at once. Making new friends. Delicious cocktails. The tech actually working as expected. And yet, no matter how hard Delon tries through his humble demeanor, he can’t downplay how knowledgeable he is about music. 

    Not only have I stolen so many great tracks from his newsletter, but through his descriptions of other people’s sets, or him mentioning a track that appears to be buzzing at the moment, I get the feeling that I know what’s actually happening in his corner of music world. If I can rip off his schtick only a little bit and give some people a similar feeling, I’ll have happily achieved what I wanted to achieve with this.

    Other honorable Mentions

    The Blogosphere ca. 2008-2015: In the heyday of Blogspot, Rapidshare, Megaupload and forums I spent every day browsing obscure blogs to download rips of rare library records, oddball jazz and forgotten funk — and also to read what people had to say about it. There were so many of them, and I have forgotten most. Aquarium Drunkard comes to mind, Voodoo Funk, or the librarymusicthemes forum. Most of these pages are lost to memory. I’d love to stumble over some of them with defunct zippyshare links and angry fights in the comments.

    Opium Hum and his Hyper Real Radio Telegram group: Michail has always been an inspiration and a supporter, but witnessing him withstand the constant onslaught of new music releases in dozens of genres of (not only electronic) music is a thing to behold. His analysis is always on point, and his tight teasers manage to get me excited for things that I’d never thought I’d be excited about.

    “Techno Twitter”: Whether it’s corny DJ discourse, hyperlocal promoter beef, exciting new releases, or simply laughing together about the corny mainstream that we all don’t want to be a part of – it’s all possible on X, the everything app. I have lurked on the sidelines for around a decade and am hoping that this project will inspire me to take the leap into posting waters (follow here to exert some pressure), but it has been great to see a less polished side to a lot of artists I admire over there. Call it the Elon-effect but after years of a pretty solid algo, I now keep getting shown US EDM Brostep discourse. I even had to learn what they mean by “Riddim”. That’s almost as bad as being shown fascists all the time now, right?

    Substack: Following my infatuation with Joe Delon’s music writing I tried to seek out more independent music writers and got lucky on substack, of course. From writings by established voices like Call Super or Nono Gigsta (who I think has moved away from the platform now), to established writers such as Shawn Reynaldo to nerds like Vincent Jenewein to ambitious projects like Untitled909 or Tone Glow, the scope of which far exceed anything I expected on that platform. Finding out about the vastness of music writing on Substack is intimidating, but also shows that people still care, that they are still out there wanting to read and write about oddball music.

    Tris: Without my dear friend Tris, whose Substack you should follow right here, you wouldn’t be reading these pages. Thanks for all the support, motivation, criticism and drinks.

    If you’d like to stay on track with future posts, just subscribe to my newsletter or check my socials, where I will do my best to bury this thing I really care about.