Hang the laundry

I was supposed to be being sensible.

I was meant to use my afternoon off to write this very blog and if not that, then there were two week's worth of dirty laundry waiting to be washed. It would have been sensible to capitalise on the re-emergent sun and finally rid my clothes of that sour damp smell, which had been the result of trying to air-dry the last batch during wet weather.  Instead, at 6 p.m. that Wednesday 5th September I ignored my to-do list and somehow found myself surrounded by a few thousand German young adults, all of us waiting in the open air for two of Germany's most famous rappers to take the stage.

Let me make this clear, rap is not at the top of my playlist. My tastes veer more to the Hubba Bubba side of bubblegum pop, by way of example, my favourite musical memory is seeing pre-vengeful Taylor Swift on her "Red" tour. So how did I go from the sugary Taytay of yesteryear to the heavy, shout-out-loud choruses of German hip-hop? As with the whole Munich experience, it started with Philippe.

His briefing came out of the blue, rather like the gig itself. Whilst I was hurrying out of work, ready to enjoy my free afternoon, social media was afire with the news that Casper and Marteria were completing their hat-trick of free performances with another pop-up concert in Munich. The names meant very little to me but a great deal to Philippe, who despite being hard at work somehow managed to find out about the event. It was to little avail, however, as work deadlines and other inconveniences of grown-upping meant that he could not attend. Completely misinterpreting the situation I offered to go in his place instead of offering sympathy, which looking back is probably why Philippe had texted in the first place.

This is how I found myself later that day at the open-air venue of Backstage Gelände. In an oversized playground I broiled under direct sunlight, whilst hemmed in on four sides by chicken wire fencing and a crowd of what can only be described as Munich's tallest teenagers. Despite their backwards baseball caps and Liam Gallagher glasses, the crowd's 90s revival fashion did not seem dated, rather, in the boozy, sunny environment this group of young adults oozed a confidence that made what they wore and what they did, en vogue. In a city as staid as Munich this was their stomping ground, a gritty expanse of tarmac pocketed in the midst of yellow DHL buildings and other urban sprawl. Waiting for their musical idols, uninhibited by beer and a background beat of bass, this was their territory and it suited them.

In the middle of the throng clutching my oversized work bag and surrounded by teenagers speaking in inscrutable Bavarian, I felt incredibly out of place. I had no idea who Casper and Marteria were and I was too old and too short for this. There was washing to be done! However, there was no possibility of escape given the sheer masses that had crammed in during the intervening period. Like it or not, there was no way out until the the concert was over.

Checking my watch I cursed Casper and Marteria's 15 minute delay and resigned myself to playing interminable sweaty sardines with the youth of Munich. I was just about to check my legs for varicose veins when the generic dance music changed and twangy trumpets emanated from the speakers. The crowd recognising the riff, began to holler and to this commotion Casper and Marteria, jumped onto the makeshift platform at the back of the pen and started to sing.

As I said, I am not usually one for rap music but this was different. Hearing a 2000-strong crowd sing out "We are Champion," raised a catchy chorus into something anthemic. Songs that would ordinarily sound tinny on Spotify were elevated by hundreds of converse trainers stamping to amplify the bass. Radiating excitement, energy and adoration for their heroes, the crowd turned Casper and Marteria's music into a phenomenon.

And the duo responded in kind. Bantering between songs, the affable pair made light-hearted jokes, which starkly contrasted with their rasping verses. With frequent mentions of the recent events in Chemnitz the two urged their followers to practise tolerance, even going so far as to start a chant of Nazis Raus! Nazis Raus! (Nazis out! Nazis out!) The only drawback to this was that many people bellowed the words with an accompanying raised right arm, which was unfortunate given the context and the country.

A strong civic message seems at odds with much modern US rap and Casper and Marteria's sentiment caught me off guard. In fact, the very nature of rap with its quasi-shouting and gruff tones seems contrary to kindness and conviviality but then again, seeing a crowd of 2000 plus teenagers sing "schieß hoch zu den Sternen hinauf!" (shoot high to the stars) makes you realise that there may be no better form of music to unify thousands of different voices. More nuanced than a battle cry and yet more hearty than a pop song, rap is the perfect medium to bind and bolster a crowd. And why not use that power for good? Why not follow the lead of two well-meaning and rightfully popular rap stars and blast out a chorus as anti-venom to fascism, racism and generalised hate of the other?

I may not have known all the words, I may not even have known the language, but by the end of the concert, I too was singing.