A Ferrari, not a Fiat

This spring, the Karl der Grosse is hosting a series of readings on rap lyrics: ‘Between Humility and Megalomania’ explores the poetics of German rap as a literary, cultural and political phenomenon. Three talks with the artists have been confirmed: Luuk, Soukey and Débikatesse, further dates are being planned. I spoke to organiser and presenter Okan Yilmaz about the background to the series.

“I won’t open a letter before the 25th and I’ll stay cool despite all the stress, like an igloo.” – Luuk, Struggle

Rap often makes use of vivid imagery and locally specific language. This reading series explores how these images come about. “Rap drives a Ferrari, not a Fiat, but why? Its coded language needs to be deciphered. For a long time, rap was a mouthpiece for marginalised groups – excluded from the arts pages and academia. As the genre became popularised and moved into the mainstream, public discourse also intensified. ‘I want to get to the bottom of this language,’ says Okan. The evenings can be imagined as similar to traditional readings with authors. ‘The discussion is shaped by the texts, meaning as literary as possible and as little as necessary.’

The relationship between rap and literature – or the intellectual world in general – is fraught with tension. This is particularly true in German-speaking countries. The images of the arrogant Markus Lanz giving Bushido a hard time are all too vivid. These attempts often give the impression that the literary scene is trying to capture a hint of rap’s coolness and mystique, or worse still, to look down on it and lecture it. Okan comments: “Rap lyrics have a right to exist and are relevant, and must be taken seriously for their literary merit without necessarily appearing in a arts section.” The aim of the reading series is to show that literary quality springs from the texts themselves, without them having to submit to the literary canon. There is no need to compare Haftbefehl’s lyrics with a Bildungsroman à la Keller or Hesse in order to attribute literary value to them.

The three musicians whose lyrics form the focus of this reading series all live in major Swiss cities. Soukey in Bern, Débikatesse and Luuk in Zurich. Despite the distinct characteristics of their music, there are commonalities: they rap in dialect and they tell of the reality of life in Switzerland. Soukey, as a queer BIPOC person, raises her voice for feminist causes. Luuk blends socially critical lyrics with local colour, whilst Débikatesse uses her rap to champion solidarity and self-empowerment. “Taking the lyrics of these artists as our starting point, we will discuss political and social issues, from the small to the big. In doing so, I want to find out how and why they see rap as a suitable medium.”

The series aims to appeal equally to those interested in literature and music, and to bridge the gap so that the audience gets a sense of the people behind the music. “That’s what I’ve been longing for – a reading series that bridges the gap between me as a fan and the person behind the stage persona,” says Okan. Perhaps this can resolve the contradictions – no ‘either/or’, not arts pages or the street, not authentic or ironic. Perhaps not between humility and megalomania, but both at the same time.