Muss man mögen — one has to like it. You have to like it. Maybebop puts the subtext out front in its new record, which is musically delightful and politically provocative. As an English-speaking listener, one has the privilege of letting the catchy hooks and great singing wash over you. But be advised: this is a collection of anti-woke show tunes.

Meine Wende is the key, I think — a nostalgic ballad about German reunification and what it felt like to encounter Western culture after the Berlin Wall came down 35 years ago. It was a cataclysmic time, a wonderous time, and a heck of a time to be in high school. This song's narrator talks about coming face to face with Atari and Star Wars while trying to play catchup with Barbie and Ken. It's the timeless story of feeling like an uncool outcast, fall of communism edition: first crushes, sneaking around, seeing Toy Story in the theater and realizing three decades later that you've thoroughly assimilated.

"Wende" is literally "turn", a word synonymous with reunification and in the news again in 2022, presumably when this album was taking shape. After Russia invaded Ukraine, the German chancellor spoke of a "Zeitenwende", a U-turn, and the country is still finding its way through. After years of Angela Merkel's centrist stability, Germany in 2021 elected a coalition government of center-right, center left, green and market conservative parties. The so-called "traffic light" arrangement has been struggling to make up its mind ever since, and this album comes square in the middle of that debate.

This collective identity crisis helps make sense of sarcastic lectures like Wachstum ("Growth", aka the root of societal ruin) and Schäm dich — literally, "be ashamed" — that browbeat you coming and going. Half the lyrics are the words of a hapless lefty scold, urging consumers to feel bad about shopping and travel. The rest of it gives away the setup, that our allegorical woke scold drives a car and wears fast fashion too, they just feel bad about it. In case that message was too subtle, Influencer is a roundup of all the ways people try to make a living through product endorsement, followed by a diatribe against viral videos, Hört bitte auf, dumme Leute berühmt zu machen or "Please stop making stupid people famous". Okay.

As always, Maybebop shifts genres like a good car shifting gears, showing off different styles and different energies with enviable ease. Wo ist meine Würde? ("Where is my Dignity?") is a half-rap about epic fails that echoes Murray Head's genre-bending rap in One Night in Bangkok. Hey, new wave never goes out of style. Where the lyrics are haranguing, the tunes are great. Schäm dich is a catchy tango in the spirit of Hernando's Hideaway, while the one about viral stupid moments is a jazzy toe-tapper that in an earlier era would have had a good chance at its own fifteen seconds of fame. Mein Recht ("My Right") has a terrific bass solo and excellent metal-esque arrangement that goes from sinister acoustic to full layered vocal pop, animating its creepy "I say what I want!" vibe.

The ballads will hold up better than some of the more topical songs. Alles das kann nur Musik is a heartfelt '80s style ballad about music bringing the whole world together that mostly rises above the overall tone, and Meine Wende itself is gorgeous. In contrast, the title track — about how AI is coming to steal their jobs, but maybe not without a fight — is probably going to feel dated down the line.

A cappella insiders will appreciate Frauenname, a template-ballad featuring a generic "woman's name", a European Title of the Song. It's still funny! Also, Da Vinci's Notebook did the same gag nearly 25 years ago and hit it out of the park. As a die-hard folkie, I further adore Ruf der Berge on its own yodeling merits, even without the sight gags that clearly had the audience in stitches. And I was glad to be introduced to John Maynard, a German retelling of a 19th century Great Lakes shipwreck that has its own fascinating history.

But I guess that's what gets me about this record, in the end. It's trying to say something new by looking backward. I sympathize, and I appreciate it. But I don't want to be stuck.

Some groups write inspirational material. Some are blessed with gifted singers. Some have great arrangements. Still others know just how to produce their tracks. It's incredibly rare that a group can do it all. Rarer still that they can keep doing it, album after album, decade after decade, at the highest of levels. Maybebop is that a cappella unicorn.

Whether bemoaning the stupidity that yields fame in Hört bitte auf, dumme Leute berühmt zu machen ("Please stop making stupid people famous") or turning the spotlight on the judgy masses demanding people feel shame for every moment of worldly pleasure in Schäm dich ("Shame on you!"), the sharp musings, particularly of group member Oliver Gies, always find their marks. It's not that there aren't plenty of heartfelt moments, but the clever, the referential and the witty dominate here. Sometimes it's just a wink. Sometimes even the delivery is enough to evoke laughter, before the joke is even laid out. The live track Ruf der Berge is a perfect example. The audience titters as the story of the unenthusiastic mountain climber unfolds, and bursts into increasing laughter and applause as it progresses to the end of his marriage. Plus the yodeling is pretty incredible.

It's an album of catchy writing, but every track is also deftly arranged, tightly produced, and fantastically sung. If any of those categories should hold an appeal, this is worth the listen.

Striking the right balance between studio enhancement and exposed singing is a perpetual challenge for contemporary a cappella groups — especially quartets, where too little is a yawn, and too much is a dismissive eye roll. Thanks largely to tracker/editor/mixer Lukas Teske, Maybebop's releases are a masterclass in this area. Muss man mögen is no exception. And that's true of both the thirteen studio tracks and the two live tracks.

Wholly original, exceptionally musical, pointedly insightful, and thoroughly enjoyable, Maybebop adds yet another fantastically catchy release to its list of killer albums. For everyone crossing the linguistic divide, there's a lot to love here — and it's fun following along with translations, even knowing that something will always be lost. For German speaking audiences, this is a must-stream.

When approaching a Maybebop album, one may assume a high level of quality in concept, wit, and poignance. In these regards, Muss man mögen is no exception. In my many trips through this album I had a pervading, persistent thought and, at the risk of sounding too reductive or simplistic, quite simply: Maybebop rocks, and how fortunate we are to experience the group's artistry.

Whether in the background, solo, or both, Maybebop has achieved the mastery of tunefulness and tasteful repetition. Because so many of the songs are based around detailed and meaningful lyrics, the structure of much of the group's music leans into traditional forms in which verses and choruses contain similar or the same melodic material. The bright, upbeat earworms in songs like Influencer, Meine Wende, and Wo ist meine Würde? serve the group's aims in presenting text effectively. Hört bitte auf, dumme Leute berühmt zu machen is not only tuneful, but the warm, pleasing timbre of the voices made me instinctively sing along nearly every time I listened.

Even songs that err on the side of light in terms of melodic and harmonic material contain some very cool studio choices, such as the overdrive in Wachstum and the fusion of Muse and Disturbed that is Mein Recht. But the most impressive display of studio work to buoy a track can be found in the title track, in which pop filters enhance the call-and-response interplay as the song progresses: instead of building solely on harmonic content, the group layers effects as well.

I recognize that, as an English speaker without a fluent command of the German language following along with a translation, some of the plot, pacing, and punchlines of the lyrics in some of the songs may be lost on me. Regardless, the lyrical brilliance shines through like poetry, perhaps most notably in Frauenname, which calls to mind The Song That Goes Like This from the Broadway musical Spamalot: expressive in its complete (and comical) self-awareness.

While I am not normally a fan of including live tracks at the end of an album, as it is difficult for consistency to invite a new aesthetic quality after thirteen tracks and impossible for a listener to get the full experience had by the laughing and applauding audience in the room (or be fully invited into those moments without visuals), the group's sound quality here does not suffer, and there are a couple of moments that make these tracks' inclusion truly priceless. Without spoiling the bit too much, if you've never heard an a cappella interpretation of a torn ligament, the last track is even more of a must-listen.

And yet, such is the brilliance and charm of Maybebop: there is always something to appreciate, be it a stellar solo interpretation, an unexpected genre performed a cappella, topical lyrics, or a moment you could not possibly expect. Take the journey; you'll be glad you did.