No tagline I come up with could top this gif…

[Video][Website]
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Kat Stevens: Big pop hooks! Sing-a-long chorus! Horn section! No boobs in the video until 4mins in! I think this means Rammstein are going for the Christmas #1.
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Josh Langhoff: I can picture it now: drunken frat bros, their recently-acquired German skills displayed like peacock feathers or feathered cocks, laying down smack (“Mein land! VerTREIIIIIIBen!”) as they play Axis and Allies while this song blares overhead. Girls are… somewhere. Wait, your fraternity DIDN’T play geopolitical role-playing games at their parties? Um, mine neither.
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Brad Shoup: I wasted enough minutes in high school hearing the Jnco set breathlessly confer about how “Du Hast” is, like, a play on words about this sort of ancient German marriage ceremony. So I checked out on Rammstein, despite whispers of a complex, angry little groove-metal/industrial fireball pinging from continent to continent. Between the video and the translations I’ve dredged up, there’s a lot of questions being asked here: What does it mean to love a country? Do I ally myself with only certain eras? What even makes up a country: the natural realm, the people, some kind of overarching ideology? And how does my love differs from others’? Rammstein seems to be arguing for a nation of one here, with the singer wandering from pole to pole, claiming forests, beaches and palm trees as his own. A sample of Arabic origin insinuates itself into the operatic groove-metal, belying the projected pomp of Till Lindemann’s overenunciation.
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Edward Okulicz: While “Mein Land” doesn’t stray too far from what my idea of a (good) Rammstein song would be, I can actually hear the elements that made the band, or Jonas Akerlund, or both, decide to set it on the beach. The riffs are quick-paced but heavy, which in a concert setting could probably look about the same as the result of a rave party on the beach. I’m going to chalk my mild concerns about the meaning to my inability to understand the — am I really saying this? — potential nuances of the seemingly simple lyrics, and simply laud it for its bludgeoning insistence that you move (out of its way).
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Jonathan Bogart: Cute video, sure. But I can never listen to Rammstein without thinking of the track that used to be right next to it back in the days when my mp3 collection was small enough to sit in a single unsorted folder, and how much more I’d rather be listening to Rammellzee vs. K-Rob.
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Anthony Easton: Charles Busch, before he became serious, wrote stage plays that burlesqued the unburlesquable. One of them was Pyscho Beach Party, about an amnesiac surfer and the violence he imposes on Californian Surfer communities: a po faced riff on both Beach Blanket Bingo and Psycho — or, more accurately, the eros/thantos terrors of California ca. 1962 as they could be imagined in the ’80s. It was later made into a not very good movie. Think of the 1990s in Germany — you think of it as difficult music and obtuse theatre about the problems of Nationalism. But people still love Baywatch and listen to David Hasslehoff; same conceptual problems of Busch. So Rammstein working through the 1990s in the 2010s is like Busch working through the 1960s in the 1980s. Busch is more fun, though. 
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