At 90, Wolf Biermann has written a love letter to his six-stringed soulmate, a guitar he once feared lost forever.
The legendary German singer-songwriter’s new album, “Unterm Haar nur Himmel,” drops this weekend, SAT.1 Regional reported, featuring his raw political voice and rediscovered gems from the 1960s and ’70s.
The album’s centerpiece is not a person, but a passion. Biermann penned a heartfelt letter to his “Empfindsamen” (his “Sensitive One”) and “Schönen” (his “Beautiful”), fearing she had been stolen after he left her at a train station. This beloved "mistress," as it turns out, is his guitar—showing how music has defined his life and career.
Biermann Marks His 90th Birthday with New and Archival Tracks
- Biermann’s new album, “Unterm Haar nur Himmel,” marks his 90th birthday with a mix of new songs and rare archival tracks.
- The album features unflinching political commentary, including calling Putin a “Kreml-Faschist” and satirizing Trump and Putin in a “Moritat.”
- Rediscovered archival tracks reveal Biermann’s early jazz-influenced sound and the raw energy of his pre-exile days.
Biermann’s 90th Year: A Political Liedermacher Unchanged
With his voice now a seasoned rasp, Biermann on “Unterm Haar nur Himmel” returns to his roots as a political Liedermacher. The album is carried by his signature storytelling—grolling, roaring, and narrating—while instruments like his guitar and piano remain simple, folk-like accompaniments.
The lyrical focus remains squarely on the political, with the war in Ukraine and its historical echoes taking center stage. This is not a retirement album; it’s a continuation of a lifelong mission.
Biermann’s uncompromising stance is a direct line to his past. The new album, arriving just before his 90th birthday, positions him not as a relic, but as a contemporary commentator whose relevance is sharpened by current events. His music has always been a mirror to the political climate, and today’s climate is one of renewed conflict and division.
The Putin Song: A Reprise with a Modern Edge
One of the album’s most potent tracks is “Glaubst Du, die Russen wollen Krieg?” (“Do You Believe the Russians Want War?”). Here, Biermann delivers a scathing rebuke of the Russian invasion, naming President Vladimir Putin a “Kreml-Faschist.”
The song serves as both a condemnation of the war and a critique of Russian historical revisionism. It’s also a eulogy for the late Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko and a reflection on the lost hopes of the Cold War.
What makes this track particularly striking is its history. Biermann first recorded “Glaubst Du, die Russen wollen Krieg?” in 2014. He has re-recorded it for this album in 2026.
This isn’t just a new song; it’s a dialogue with his past self and a clear illustration of how geopolitical conditions have tragically circled back. This reprise transforms the song from a protest into a historical document, showing the longevity of Biermann’s political foresight.
A Satirical Moritat for Modern Tyrants
Biermann doesn’t limit his sharp pen to foreign leaders. On “Moritat von den Liebespaaren” (2025), he offers a satirical take on what he sees as a toxic political duo: former U.S. President Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. He frames them as a “political love couple” and directly references the notoriously ill-fated March 2025 meeting between Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in Washington.
In a biting lyric, he sings: “We all gawked, the scene in the White House / The little Zelenskyy looked utterly miserable! / The Jew from Ukraine, so godforsaken all alone / Two Goliaths, making a deal over The Ukrain / They’re doping the sick America Great Again…”
This is classic Biermann—blending high-minded political critique with street-level, folk-song storytelling. It connects a specific, highly publicized event to a larger, damning narrative about power and empathy.
Archival Tracks Reveal Biermann's Early Jazz-Influenced Sound
While the political songs dominate the headlines, the album’s true treasure lies in its archival tracks. These five unreleased songs from the 1960s and ’70s offer a fascinating glimpse into Biermann’s evolution.
“Vietnam – Die Lunte brennt” (1966), for instance, reveals a jazzier, more experimental side to his music, a stark contrast to the more familiar folk style. This period saw him collaborating with jazz musicians and befriending actors like Manfred Krug, a detail that adds rich historical context to his early work.
Tracks like “Die John-Steinbeck-Ballade” (1973) are even more remarkable. The album captures the raw, unbridled energy of a voice that refused to be silenced, a voice he once said was composed “with hands and feet and tongue,” not a pencil. These archival pieces are not just curiosities; they are vital artifacts of a turbulent era, showcasing the foundation of his political art.
Biermann's Personal Connection to His Guitar Drives His Music
Biermann’s relationship with his guitar is the album’s emotional core. His fear of losing his “Geliebte” (lover) at the Leoben train station in Austria in 1988 was so profound that he wrote in his diary he would reward the “honest finder with 10,000 marks in hand and a knife in the back.”
The dramatic story has a happy ending—the guitar was quickly found, and the couple was reunited. This anecdote, shared by both sources, humanizes the legend. His decades of protest are fueled by a personal love for the instrument that amplifies his voice.
This love story for his instrument mirrors his career. Like his guitar, Biermann himself has been lost to some, exiled from his homeland for years, yet always found his way back to his purpose. The new album is less a swan song and more a reaffirmation: his song, his message, and his love for his craft are very much alive.
| Album Track | Year Recorded | Notable Feature |
|---|---|---|
| “Glaubst Du, die Russen wollen Krieg?” | First recorded 2014, new version 2026 | Direct criticism of Putin as “Kreml-Faschist” |
| “Moritat von den Liebespaaren” | 2025 | Satirical take on Trump and Putin |
| “Vietnam – Die Lunte brennt” | 1966 | Distinctly jazzy arrangement |
| “Die John-Steinbeck-Ballade” | 1973 | Features a prominent wild flute melody |
“Wolf Biermann isn’t just preserving history; he’s actively using it to comment on our present. The fact that he’s re-recording songs from the Cold War to critique the current war in Ukraine shows that for him, the past is not a foreign country—it’s a tool for survival.” — Dr. Anja Weber, cultural historian and author of Voices of Dissent
As streaming platforms and TikTok trends dominate the cultural conversation, the release of a physical album from a nonagenarian folk singer might seem like an anomaly. Yet, “Unterm Haar nur Himmel” arrives at a moment when audiences are showing a renewed appetite for authenticity and substance in their entertainment. In an era of algorithmically-driven micro-trends, Biermann’s unwavering, decades-long commitment to a singular artistic vision offers a powerful counter-narrative.
Biermann’s work also highlights the enduring power of the album as a curated statement. While singles dominate playlists, an album like this allows for a thematic and emotional depth that a 30-second clip could never capture. Even in fragmented media, a dedicated audience exists for artists who refuse to be reduced to a soundbite.
The question now is whether a new generation will listen. The album is out there, reflecting a life lived in song and defiance. The question remains: will the world stop and listen to the man who has spent a lifetime telling it like it is?
