Album Review: "Im Winter Dein Herz" by Benjamin Lebert
Alright, buckle up, because this ain’t your typical music album review. Nope. Im Winter Dein Herz is more like an auditory novel—Benjamin Lebert reading his own work in that distinct voice of his. Released back in 2012 under Hoffmann Und Campe (a label you probably didn’t know existed), it’s tagged as “Non-Music” with a style of “Audiobook.” So yeah, don’t expect sick beats or guitar solos here. This one’s all about storytelling, and honestly? It works.
Now, let’s get into the nitty-gritty. The whole thing feels like sitting by a fireplace while some guy who sounds way too cool for school tells you a story. One track—or should I say chapter—that sticks out is... well, they’re all untitled, so we’ll just call it Track 1. Why does it stick? Because Lebert has this knack for painting pictures with words. His tone shifts from warm and inviting to kinda haunting without warning. You’re chilling, thinking, “Oh, this is nice,” and then BAM—he hits you with something heavy. By the time he’s done, you feel like you’ve lived through whatever scene he described. Weirdly immersive.
Then there’s another bit later on—let’s go with Track 3 for argument’s sake. This part gets me every time because Lebert throws in these little pauses, like he’s letting the weight of what he just said sink in. And trust me, it sinks. There’s no background music, no fancy sound effects—just his voice and the raw power of his writing. It’s almost unsettling how much emotion can come through when someone knows how to read their own stuff. Like, dude wrote it and reads it, so who better to deliver those lines? No pressure, Ben, but wow. Just wow.
Here’s the kicker though—the lack of titles bugs me. I mean, c’mon, man! How am I supposed to recommend a specific moment to my friends if everything’s just labeled “Untitled”? Call me old-school, but even audiobooks deserve names for their chapters. Maybe next time, eh?
Anyway, wrapping this up, listening to Im Winter Dein Herz felt less like consuming media and more like eavesdropping on someone’s inner monologue. It’s intimate, unpolished in the best way, and oddly satisfying. If you’re into books but lazy AF about actually flipping pages, give this a shot. Or if you just wanna hear a German writer spit poetic thoughts straight into your ears, this could be your jam.
Final thought? Audiobooks might not technically count as albums, but hey—if podcasts can win Grammys, why not this? Food for thought. Now excuse me while I try to find where I left my headphones… again.
