Roland Kaiser in Berlin: The great pop star finds clear words - not only in his songs

At the gates of the Murellenschlucht Gorge, Charlottenburg grandes dames in gold-wire glasses linger among a passionate Dresden fan base, sipping Red Riding Hood. At the guest list counter, an art student, judging by his clothing style, raps, points out his lack of aristocratic status. Many heads are adorned with neon-pink trident crowns, and a few middle-aged men wear their functional Engelbert Strauss workwear even as they go out. East and West, capital and hinterland, bourgeoisie and working class, grandparents and grandchildren, conservatives and progressives: Even before his concert begins, Social Democrat Roland Kaiser is accomplishing what most of his party colleagues can only dream of. He is capable of uniting this country—as much as a pop singer can.

At a quarter to eight, an epic overture sounds, as if a blockbuster were about to be projected onto the screen of a multiplex cinema or a boxing match between two veteran adversaries were about to begin. The show element, intended to build suspense, will remain the most brutal part of this evening. With his appearance at the center of the stage, the Emperor elevates cordiality to the overriding maxim of the gathering. The majority of the audience also rises from their seats, immediately after the first bars of the musical promise, "I will be there for you."

Roland Kaiser: “With respect and consideration, with and for each other”

After thunderous applause, Kaiser turns to his band in disbelief and places his right hand on his left chest. "Dear friends, we live in a time in which people's tone toward one another is very often harsh – and respectful interaction sometimes falls by the wayside. Let us spend an evening together with consideration and respect, with and for one another," he then says. This is followed by a song against hate and incitement, a song for community spirit. Without solidarity, there would be neither security nor freedom, states a paper from the SPD's Basic Values Commission. Over the next 160 minutes, Kaiser repeatedly feeds this thesis with arguments.

First, however, he changes his thematic garb and slips into his second role: The classic hit "To Love You" transforms the social democratic statesman into a sex-positive sleazy singer. It sounds like a sharp change, but it's actually not that noticeable. At no point does the 73-year-old appear vulgar, because he performs the habitual balancing act of venerable down-to-earthness. He often displays a light-hearted and sometimes tongue-in-cheek demeanor, but he's as far removed from infamous antics as Mallorca and Manhattan.

An estimated two-thirds of his songs deal with carnal desires, infidelities, and longings. They have titles like "My Secret," "Sometimes I'd Like to Be with You," or "You, Your Girlfriend and Me." At the end of the 1950s, rock 'n' roll liberated physical love from Christian morality. Elvis Presley's hip swing and, to a certain extent, Ricky Nelson's yearning brought down uptight bedroom constructs. Today, MAGA influencers preach a prudishness long thought to be outdated: The sexual act should serve procreation rather than pleasure, be between a man and a woman, and follow the perfectly straight path of marriage.

In times of Western cultural conflicts, it can be considered a political act when Roland Kaiser, in front of 22,000 people, ponders a ménage à trois, taboos, and instincts. He wanted to present a perspective on different models of love, he said in an interview. Discussions about desire should never be one-dimensional. A bleached-blonde male couple at the Waldbühne likely viewed the situation similarly, holding each other's arms for almost the entire concert. Occasionally, they kiss each other on the lips.

After the raucously celebrated evergreen "Santa Maria," it's time for Roland Kaiser's hymne à l'amour : "Only love can save us." The German philosopher Ernst Bloch once enunciated the principle of hope, the ever-present possibility of something better. He was a dreamer in the service of reality, and Roland Kaiser is one too: "Again and again I believe that good can prevail. A constant dripping wears away the stone. And soon there will be many of us." As this humanistic, optimistic ode to union resounds, thousands raise their white handkerchiefs to the sky. What Kaiser sings may remain a foolish hippie vision in the future—but it's truly a beautiful thought in the approaching Saturday twilight.

"They always say there are no limits for lovers," the West Berlin-born troubadour finally says. On the roofs of the world, there is no end and no morality, as the following Cupid piece states. It becomes increasingly clear: Puritan lifestyles are far removed from Kaiser's oeuvre than a coconut palm is from the Northern Lights. He would even risk purgatory for the "Fifth Element"—as he confesses as night falls. His idea of art is based on desires that the audience may never elevate from fantasy to practice.

Their eyes are all the more inspired to follow the phantasm – the cymbal swings of the muscular wind players, the smiles of the string players. Kaiser once again verifies his cosmopolitanism with a travel potpourri: New York, Copacabana, San Francisco. "24/7" also resounds as a hymn to the capital's intrinsic pulse.

Had Kaiser forgotten any song? Of course, he saved what would now be his biggest hit for last. "Warum hast du nicht nein gesagt" (Why Didn't You Say No) transforms the Waldbühne into a choir for the first time, and then into a pop rave for the second. The main protagonist returns once more, stripping off his jacket and tie during the calls for an encore. The unwavering hits "Joana" and "Sieben Fässer Wein" (Seven Barrels of Wine) resound.

Kaiser addresses his fans: "You have taught me not only to live life, but also to celebrate it. Until next time, take care." The ardent music aficionado Lars Klingbeil had originally announced his duet partner for the concert. A vice chancellor may have more important things to worry about than a pop concert, but the finance minister could have learned a thing or two from his party colleague. Something about unity.