Toten Hosen play at the legendary "Ratinger Hof" - On days like those

Düsseldorf, Ratinger Straße 10. Anyone who wanted to park their car in front of the "Ratinger Hof" used to have to put ten-pfennig coins into a parking meter. As can be seen in old black-and-white photos, Düsseldorf residents back then drove Kadetts and Beetles. The punks and students from the nearby art academy who came and went here drank Düssel-Alt beer together; the beer advertisement above the entrance was impossible to miss.

Parking meters have long since been abolished, and Düssel-Alt beer is no longer brewed. The Toten Hosen, however, for whom the "Ratinger Hof" was, as they say, their "living room," have persevered.

Campino, 63, stands at the entrance and personally greets everyone who enters. This is easy and casual, because on this special evening of reflection, only 250 friends, family members, and fans are allowed in. No more will fit in. Campino grins. The surprise has been a success.

The Toten Hosen last performed at the old venue, which was demolished in the late 1980s to make way for a new building, on March 11, 1984. Their first album, "Opel-Gang," had been released six months earlier. Back then, the concert wasn't sold out. This time, things are different.

And not only that: Hundreds of other fans without tickets are waiting on the street. The concert is being broadcast outside for them via loudspeakers. Some are watching closely to see who enters. Some suspect, as one reads afterward in an internet forum, that there might also be a "TWD audience" present—people who have only been fans since "Days Like These."

Campino was still a student when he first showed up at the "Ratinger Hof." A new scene of young musicians had formed there, trying to escape the narrow, paneled world they had grown up in. Uncomfortable neon lighting, installed by the then owners, replaced his parents' walnut wood. The "Ratinger Hof" must have been a true space of freedom.

Bands like German-American Friendship and Fehlfarben were formed in or around the bar. They shaped a new German pop sound, inspired by English and American punk and new wave models.

Songs like "Der Mussolini" and "Ein Jahr (Es geht voran)" were soon being played in village discos throughout West Germany. ZK, the band that would become the Toten Hosen, even rehearsed at the Ratinger Hof.

The scene celebrated the punk ideal. They believed that self-realization was possible. Just like the Ramones had demonstrated in New York. Their message: If they, four sneakerheads with no prior artistic experience, could do it, then anyone can. Just be determined! Count to four!

Today, in their 43rd year, Die Toten Hosen consider themselves on the "home stretch" of their career, as they explained when announcing their upcoming "Trink aus! Wir müssen gehen" tour next year. Perhaps this has made them nostalgic.

Campino, the two guitarists Andreas "Kuddel" von Holst and Michael "Breiti" Breitkopf, Andreas "Andi" Meurer on bass, and drummer Vom Ritchie will focus this evening on the short, fast songs from their early years, which reflect their determination and unwavering determination at the time – and thus the longing of many young people to find their own voice, their own sound, their own path. "It's pathetic how everyone struggles and runs to the bus, knows no rest, and gives away year after year; until they lose," sings Campino in "Armee der Verlierer" from 1983, as if he already suspected back then that reality sometimes turns great expectations into great disappointments.

"Or should it go on forever, that you'll never grow up? Who do you think you are?" he quotes his father, a judge and reserve lieutenant colonel, in the song "Glückpiraten." One can imagine the severity of this father-son conflict. "I simply wrote down what my father told me every day," the singer announces the song, released in 1990. No other song lyrics came as easily to him as these.

Back then, it was about distancing ourselves and breaking away. "Hopefully, we were the soundtrack to a healthy rebellion for many young people," Campino said in an earlier interview with RedaktionsNetzwerk Deutschland (RND). Today, the 63-year-old no longer sings the old lines with the voice of a son, but with that of a father. Today, the Toten Hosen no longer want to provoke, but rather to mediate and connect. With "You'll Never Walk Alone," the stadium anthem of Liverpool FC, they convey this message.

Anyone who wants to can measure the distance they've traveled since the beginning of their own search for love and meaning. The band juxtaposes twee numbers like "We Are Ready" with later songs about the end of youthful carefreeness, the erosion of ideals, and failure, such as "Heroes and Thieves" and "All These Years." You inevitably think about all the compromises you yourself have had to make.

"No one will come and get you. Go off on your own," Campino also sings. "Because you only live once, and you won't be around forever." Feeling hopelessly grown-up is also a kind of loneliness. The band still doesn't play "Tage wie diese," their sweet, pop-like antidote. The Rabauken-Hosen of yesteryear would probably have laughed at it. But it couldn't have been more fitting: "On days like these, you wish for eternity."

Anyone who doesn't drink too quickly can manage three Altbiers during the show. By the fourth, Campino is back at the entrance. There's a photo booth. Two women drag him inside and take what appear to be completely non-biometric photos, unsuitable for ID cards. Euphoria in a confined space. This is what fortune pirates look like today.