Splash into Bilderbuch’s “Plansch” and you are thrown head-first into a neon-blue swimming pool of imagery where sugar hearts, caramel skin and trembling eyes shimmer under a scorching sun. The constant chant of Plansch (“splash”) mimics water slapping against the tiles while voices in the background nag: Child, you have to learn or you’ll earn nothing. Between carefree cannonballs and parental pressure, the scene flips between playful holiday vibes and the uneasy twitch of someone who is secretly anxious about the future.
Look closer and the pool turns into a liquid symbol of 21st-century escapism and consumer excess. Whenever fear, sickness or sheer boredom strikes, the lyrics suggest an easy fix: buy a pool, throw money into it, drown in it if you must. In other words, if life feels overwhelming, people are tempted to splash their cash on shiny distractions rather than confront the real problem. By the end, even the water gets “green and blue,” hinting that indulgence eventually leaves a mess behind. Fun on the surface, satire underneath—“Plansch” invites you to dive in, bob around and question what you might be trying to keep afloat.