Ever had a tune latch onto your brain and drag you right back to memories you wish were buried? That is exactly the roller-coaster Kerstin Ott puts us on in Scheissmelodie. The song opens with an unmistakable beat that yanks the listener out of the present and drops them into a free-fall of flashbacks. Each note is a mischievous time-traveler, bringing back a love the narrator thought was safely hidden away. The more the DJ hammers that hook, the deeper the singer sinks into yesterday — frustration, longing, and insomnia swirling in circles like a spinning record.
Scheissmelodie is a witty but raw confession about the power of music itself. Ott shows how a single track can become an unwanted roommate in your head, echoing through every floor of your life, stealing sleep, and reopening healed wounds. The chorus’s repeated grumble — “Schon wieder diese Scheißmelodie” — is half-curse, half-surrender, an anthem for anyone who has ever yelled at the radio while secretly hitting repeat. It is a catchy reminder that melodies can haunt us, yet singing them out loud can be strangely liberating.