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	Current EURO200
	New entries in the EURO200                                       Review for week 46 - 2025
	“In Meinem Garten” by Reinhard Mey enters the Euro 200™ chart this week at position 46, and it’s a remarkable moment. Reinhard Mey is a legendary German singer-songwriter, known for his poetic lyrics and acoustic style. His career spans over five decades, and he’s often seen as one of the most respected voices in German-language music. Mey’s songs are usually introspective, gentle, and filled with everyday observations that carry deeper meaning. “In Meinem Garten” fits perfectly into his long tradition of storytelling through song. The title translates to “In My Garden,” and the lyrics reflect on the peace and simplicity of tending to one’s own space — both literally and metaphorically. Mey sings about the small joys of life, the comfort of routine, and the quiet resistance of choosing calm over chaos. It’s not a political song, but it feels like a statement in today’s noisy world: a call to slow down, to observe, and to appreciate. Musically, the track is stripped down. Just Mey’s voice and his guitar, with minimal accompaniment. That’s his signature style, and it works beautifully here. There’s no need for big production — the emotion comes through in the phrasing, the pauses, and the sincerity of his delivery. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t shout, but still demands attention. That this track enters the chart in 2025, decades after Mey’s debut, shows how timeless his music is. Younger listeners are discovering him, and longtime fans are still moved by his work. “In Meinem Garten” is not just a song — it’s a quiet triumph. Reinhard Mey proves that authenticity never goes out of style.
	“Brazil Funk Freestyle #2 BR” by Bobby Vandamme x Azet enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 71, and it’s one of the most energetic new entries this week. Bobby Vandamme is a rising name in the German rap scene, known for his aggressive flow and street-oriented lyrics. Azet, on the other hand, is a well-established artist with roots in Kosovo and a strong following across German-speaking Europe. Together, they bring a raw and rhythmic energy that stands out immediately. The title “Brazil Funk Freestyle #2 BR” hints at the influence of Brazilian funk — a genre known for its fast-paced beats, heavy percussion, and danceable vibe. But this track isn’t just a party anthem. It’s a freestyle, which means the lyrics are loose, spontaneous, and focused more on flow than storytelling. Bobby Vandamme opens with sharp bars, full of slang and references to street life. Azet follows with his signature delivery — smooth but intense, switching between German and Albanian with ease. Musically, the track is built on a bouncy beat with strong bass and syncopated rhythms. There’s a clear nod to baile funk, but it’s filtered through a European lens. The production is minimal but effective, letting the rappers take center stage. It’s the kind of track that works both in clubs and on playlists — catchy enough to move to, but gritty enough to feel real. Landing at position 71 shows that this track is gaining traction fast. It’s not a mainstream pop hit, but it’s making noise in the underground and among fans of street rap. “Brazil Funk Freestyle #2 BR” is a bold entry, and it proves that Bobby Vandamme and Azet are a duo to watch.
	Haftbefehl is one of the most influential voices in German rap. Known for his raw delivery, street-rooted lyrics, and uncompromising style, he has built a career on authenticity and intensity. This week, he makes a remarkable impact on the Euro 200™ chart with four new entries, each carrying its own weight and message. It’s rare to see an artist land four new tracks in one week, and it speaks volumes about Haftbefehl’s continued relevance and creative drive. The highest entry among the four is “1999 Pt. III” at position 86. This track is part of a larger series in which Haftbefehl reflects on his past, particularly the late 1990s — a time that shaped his worldview and identity. The production, handled by Bazzazian, is dark and atmospheric, setting the tone for Haftbefehl’s gritty storytelling. He raps about loyalty, survival, and the harsh realities of growing up in Offenbach. The lyrics are direct and unfiltered, painting a vivid picture of street life without glamorizing it. “1999 Pt. III” is not just a song — it’s a statement, a memory, and a warning. Next is “1999 Pt. 6 (Gabriel Versus Lucifer)” at position 109. This track dives deeper into Haftbefehl’s internal struggles. The title itself suggests a battle between good and evil, and the lyrics follow that theme closely. Haftbefehl uses religious imagery to express his personal conflict, touching on temptation, redemption, and the weight of past decisions. Bazzazian’s production is sparse and haunting, allowing Haftbefehl’s voice to carry the emotional load. It’s a track that demands attention — not because it’s catchy, but because it’s honest and intense. At position 111, we find “1999 Pt. 5 (Mainpark Baby)”. This is perhaps the most autobiographical of the four. Haftbefehl recounts his childhood in the Mainpark neighborhood, describing the environment, the people, and the events that shaped him. It’s a deeply personal track, filled with names and places that hold meaning for him. The beat is slow and reflective, with a nostalgic feel that matches the lyrical content. There’s pain in his voice, but also pride — pride in having survived, in having turned his experiences into art. “Mainpark Baby” is a tribute to where he came from, and a reminder of how far he’s come. Finally, “RADW” enters at position 197. Unlike the other three, this track stands alone, outside the “1999” series. The title is an acronym rooted in street slang, and the song deals with themes of alienation, distrust, and resistance. Haftbefehl raps about being watched, judged, and misunderstood. His delivery is sharp and defiant, and the production matches that energy with heavy bass and minimal melody. “RADW” feels like a protest — not against a specific system, but against the feeling of being boxed in by society. Together, these four tracks form a powerful narrative. They show different sides of Haftbefehl: the storyteller, the philosopher, the survivor, and the fighter. His collaboration with Bazzazian is key — the producer’s ability to craft moody, textured beats gives Haftbefehl the space to be vulnerable and fierce at the same time.
	“Where Love Lives” by Alison Limerick enters the Euro 200™ at position 94, and it feels like a ghost from the golden age of house music just walked back into the club — and everyone’s cheering. Originally released in the early 1990s, this track is a classic, a cornerstone of UK dance culture, and a spiritual anthem for anyone who’s ever found salvation on a dancefloor. That it re-enters the chart now, in 2025, as a fresh newcomer, is nothing short of poetic. Alison Limerick’s voice is the soul of this track. Warm, powerful, and full of longing, she doesn’t just sing — she lifts. “Where Love Lives” isn’t about heartbreak or drama. It’s about belonging. It’s about that one place — physical or emotional — where you feel seen, safe, and free. And for many, that place has always been the dancefloor. The lyrics are simple but timeless: “I got something for your mind, your body, and your soul.” It’s not just a hook — it’s a promise. The production, originally by Frankie Knuckles and David Morales, is pure house gold. Piano stabs, a driving four-on-the-floor beat, and that euphoric build-up that makes your heart race before the drop. It’s the kind of track that DJs still spin at 3 a.m. when the crowd needs to be reminded why they came out in the first place. Its return to the Euro 200™ is more than nostalgia — it’s a reminder that real house music never dies. “Where Love Lives” is eternal. And this week, it lives again.
	“Fingo&Spingo” by Tiziano Ferro enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 96, and it’s a strange, playful, and surprisingly emotional ride. Tiziano Ferro is one of Italy’s most beloved pop artists, known for his smooth voice, heartfelt ballads, and ability to blend pop with soul and electronic elements. But this track? It’s something else entirely. The title “Fingo&Spingo” is quirky — it roughly translates to “I fake and I push,” which already hints at a theme of emotional contradiction. The song plays with duality: pretending to be okay while pushing through pain, smiling while struggling. Ferro’s lyrics are clever and layered, full of wordplay and subtle references to past relationships, public pressure, and personal growth. It’s not a sad song, but it’s not happy either. It lives in the messy middle — and that’s what makes it interesting. Musically, the track is upbeat, with a bouncing rhythm and synths that feel almost retro. There’s a touch of funk in the bassline, and the chorus is catchy without being cheesy. Ferro’s vocals are as smooth as ever, but there’s a slight edge to them — like he’s holding something back. That tension gives the song its emotional punch. Landing at position 96 shows that “Fingo&Spingo” is connecting with listeners across Europe. It’s not a typical chart hit, but it stands out because it’s weird, honest, and full of personality. Tiziano Ferro proves once again that he’s not afraid to experiment — and that even when he’s faking and pushing, he’s still telling the truth.
	“Die On This Hill” by Sienna Spiro enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 108, and it doesn’t tiptoe in — it arrives like a quiet explosion. Sienna Spiro isn’t a household name yet, but this track makes it clear she’s not here to play safe. Her voice is sharp, almost fragile, but there’s steel underneath. She sings like someone who’s been holding back for years and finally decided to speak. The song is built around a single idea: standing your ground, even if it costs you everything. “Die On This Hill” isn’t about violence — it’s about conviction. The lyrics are sparse but loaded. She doesn’t over-explain. She just says what she means, and lets the silence between the lines do the rest. There’s a line — “I won’t move just because you ask nicely” — that hits like a punch. It’s not angry. It’s resolute. Musically, the track is minimal. A pulsing synth, a slow-building beat, and layers of echo that make it feel like it’s unfolding in a vast, empty space. There’s no chorus in the traditional sense — just waves of intensity that rise and fall. It’s more atmosphere than melody, but it works. It pulls you in, makes you listen closer. Landing at position 108 means it’s just starting to make its mark. But it’s the kind of song that doesn’t need a big debut. It’s a slow burn. People will find it, share it, and hold onto it. Sienna Spiro has made a statement with “Die On This Hill” — and if this is her first step, the next ones could be seismic.
	No spotlight. No red carpet. Just a voice cutting through the noise. Skye Newman doesn’t ask for attention in “FU & UF” — she demands it. This track, debuting at position 130 in the Euro 200™, is a slap in the face to anyone who thought pop music had lost its bite. The title alone is a puzzle: part rebellion, part code, part dare. It doesn’t explain itself, and that’s the point. You’re either in or you’re out. Her delivery is sharp, almost spoken-word at times, but with a rhythm that pulls you in like a riptide. There’s no sugarcoating here. The lyrics are jagged, full of contradictions and emotional whiplash. One moment she’s whispering vulnerability, the next she’s spitting venom. It’s not a breakup song. It’s a breakdown song — of trust, of patience, of pretending. The production is sparse but deliberate. A distorted synth line runs like a thread through the track, stitched together with glitchy percussion and sudden silences that feel like held breath. There’s no big drop, no soaring chorus. Instead, it builds tension and never releases it. It’s uncomfortable, and that’s exactly why it works. Position 130 means it’s just entering the conversation. But it won’t stay quiet for long. This is the kind of track that spreads through word of mouth, through playlists that want edge, through listeners who are tired of polished lies. Skye Newman isn’t here to be liked. She’s here to be heard.
	Sosa La M crashes into the Euro 200™ at position 137 with “Back Outside”, and it’s not a comeback — it’s a declaration. The title says it all. After silence, after setbacks, after whatever kept him in the shadows, he’s back. And he’s loud about it. This isn’t a track that asks for permission. It kicks the door open and dares you to look away. The beat is heavy, almost industrial, with a thumping bass that feels like footsteps on concrete. There’s tension in the rhythm — like something’s about to break. Sosa La M rides that tension with a flow that’s half rap, half chant. He’s not trying to impress. He’s trying to remind. Every line feels like a warning: I’ve been gone, but I haven’t been quiet. Lyrically, “Back Outside” is full of coded references — to past beefs, to street politics, to personal losses. He doesn’t name names, but the tone makes it clear: this is personal. There’s a line about “no more whispers, only echoes,” and it sticks. It’s not just about being visible again. It’s about being heard, even when you’re not speaking. Position 137 shows it’s just entering the radar. But this isn’t the kind of track that fades. It lingers. It rattles. It makes you wonder what else Sosa La M has been holding back. “Back Outside” isn’t polished, and it’s not trying to be. It’s raw, urgent, and full of unfinished business.
	“Love You” by Nono La Grinta enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 141, and it doesn’t whisper its way in. It crashes through the door with a voice full of contradiction and urgency. This isn’t a love song in the traditional sense. It’s a confession wrapped in barbed wire — messy, impulsive, and painfully honest. Nono’s delivery is rough around the edges, and that’s exactly what makes it work. He doesn’t try to smooth things out. His voice strains, cracks, and pushes against the beat like it’s trying to escape. The lyrics are simple but loaded with tension: “I love you, but I don’t like you right now.” That line alone carries more emotional weight than a dozen polished ballads. The production is minimal and claustrophobic. A looping synth line runs like a nervous tick beneath the vocals, while the percussion thumps like a heartbeat that’s skipping. There’s no big chorus, no dramatic build-up — just a steady pulse of discomfort. It’s the sound of someone pacing in their room, replaying a fight, rewriting a message they’ll never send. Landing at position 141, “Love You” stands out not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. It’s a song for the emotionally reckless, the romantically exhausted, the ones who still care even when they wish they didn’t. Nono La Grinta doesn’t ask to be liked. He asks to be felt. And this week, he is.
	Charlie Charles & Blanco enter the Euro 200™ chart at position 144 with “Attacchi Di Panico”, and it’s not just a song — it’s a panic attack in stereo. The title translates to “Panic Attacks,” and the track delivers exactly that: a sonic spiral of anxiety, pressure, and emotional overload. It’s not comfortable, and it’s not supposed to be. Charlie Charles, one of Italy’s most inventive producers, lays down a beat that feels like a ticking time bomb. It’s built on sharp hi-hats, a jittery synth line, and a bass that thumps like a racing heart. There’s no smooth groove here — just tension. Every sound feels like it’s trying to escape the mix, like the track itself is having trouble breathing. Blanco’s vocals are raw and erratic. He doesn’t sing — he pleads, he gasps, he lashes out. The lyrics are fragmented, like thoughts mid-panic: flashes of fear, flashes of memory, flashes of regret. There’s a line about “walls closing in,” and it doesn’t feel metaphorical. It feels physical. You can hear the claustrophobia in his voice. What makes “Attacchi Di Panico” so powerful is its refusal to resolve. There’s no catharsis, no relief, no tidy ending. It just ends — abruptly, like someone hanging up mid-conversation. That choice makes it linger. It’s not a song you forget. It’s a song you carry. Position 144 is just the beginning. This track isn’t designed to climb fast — it’s designed to haunt. Charlie Charles & Blanco have created something that doesn’t just sound like panic. It feels like it. And that’s what makes it unforgettable.
	“444” by Yan Block & Panda Black enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 155, and it feels like a transmission from a darker dimension. The title, cryptic and symbolic, hints at numerology, mysticism, or maybe just a code between two people who don’t speak in full sentences anymore. Whatever it means, the track doesn’t explain — it just immerses. The beat is skeletal. A slow, echoing kick drum, a distant synth that sounds like it’s underwater, and a vocal sample chopped into fragments. It’s not built for movement — it’s built for mood. The kind of mood that makes you stare out of windows at 2 a.m. and wonder what you forgot to say. Yan Block opens with a verse that feels like a whisper through a cracked phone speaker. His flow is subdued, almost mumbled, but every word lands like a secret. Panda Black follows with more urgency, his voice sharper, his lines more direct. Together, they create contrast — two sides of the same wound. There’s no chorus, no hook, just a slow descent into memory and regret. The lyrics are abstract, full of references to time, distance, and silence. There’s a line about “counting shadows instead of hours,” and it sticks. It’s not poetry in the traditional sense, but it’s haunting. The whole track feels like a message left on read — unanswered, but unforgettable. Position 155 is quiet, but fitting. “444” isn’t meant to dominate the charts. It’s meant to linger in the corners, in the headphones of people who don’t want answers — just something that understands the question. Yan Block & Panda Black have made something strange, beautiful, and deeply unsettling.
	No gloss. No glitter. Just a slow, sinking feeling. “7 Zile” by Florian Rus & INNA enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 164, and it’s not here to celebrate — it’s here to ache. The title means “7 Days” in Romanian, and the track unfolds like a countdown to emotional collapse. It’s about longing, distance, and the kind of silence that grows louder with each passing day. Florian Rus opens the song with a soft, almost hesitant delivery. His voice carries the weight of someone who’s been replaying the same memory over and over. INNA joins with her signature clarity — smooth, haunting, and full of restraint. Together, they don’t sing to each other. They sing past each other. It’s a duet of disconnect. The production is delicate. A slow beat, ambient textures, and a melody that feels like it’s floating just out of reach. There’s no urgency, no climax — just a steady drift. It’s the sound of time stretching, of waiting for a message that never comes. The chorus doesn’t explode. It dissolves. Lyrically, “7 Zile” is sparse but sharp. Lines like “I counted the hours, but you counted the exits” hit hard. It’s not dramatic — it’s resigned. The kind of heartbreak that doesn’t scream, but sighs. Charting at position 164, the track feels like a quiet entry — but it’s the quiet ones that often stay longest. “7 Zile” isn’t built for the dancefloor or the radio. It’s built for headphones, for late nights, for people who know what it’s like to wait too long. Florian Rus & INNA have crafted a song that doesn’t beg to be heard. It just waits — like you did.
	“Bank” by Icegergert & Zivert enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 180, and it sounds like Moscow at midnight — sleek, cold, and pulsing with quiet defiance. Icegergert, a Russian producer known for his icy textures and minimalist beats, teams up with Zivert, one of Russia’s most distinctive pop voices, to deliver a track that’s more mood than melody. The production is stripped down to essentials: a slow, throbbing bassline, synths that shimmer like neon reflections on wet asphalt, and percussion that clicks like a ticking clock. It’s not aggressive, but it’s tense — like something’s about to happen, and no one’s saying what. Zivert’s vocals are hypnotic. She doesn’t belt — she glides. Her voice is cool, detached, but never lifeless. There’s a subtle ache beneath the surface, like she’s singing through a smirk that hides something deeper. The lyrics are cryptic, full of coded language and emotional sleight of hand. “I keep my silence in the vault,” she murmurs, and it lands like a secret you weren’t supposed to hear. “Bank” doesn’t follow pop conventions. There’s no big chorus, no dramatic shift — just a steady, seductive pulse. It’s the kind of track that plays in the background of a scene you don’t realize is dangerous until it’s too late. At position 180, it’s not here to dominate — it’s here to linger. Icegergert & Zivert have crafted something sleek, unsettling, and quietly unforgettable. Russia’s pop underground rarely sounds this polished — or this ominous.
	“Phantom” by Rico Ace & Esdeekid enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 190, and it doesn’t knock — it slithers in. This track doesn’t announce itself with volume or velocity. It creeps, it coils, it waits. The title says it all: “Phantom” is elusive, spectral, and just a little dangerous. Rico Ace, hailing from the UK underground, brings a flow that’s sharp and slippery. He doesn’t punch through the beat — he glides over it, weaving between the snares like smoke through a keyhole. His delivery is cool, but never cold. There’s a quiet menace in his voice, like he knows something you don’t, and he’s not in a rush to tell you. Esdeekid, a rising name from the Dutch drill scene, counters with a verse that’s more jagged, more urgent. His cadence is clipped, his tone tense. Where Rico is the shadow, Esdeekid is the flicker of movement just beyond your line of sight. Together, they don’t trade bars — they orbit each other, like twin satellites caught in a low, dark gravity. The production is minimal but menacing. A skeletal trap beat, a haunting synth line that sounds like it’s echoing through an abandoned parking garage, and a bass that doesn’t thump — it stalks. There’s no hook to sing along to. Just a mood to sink into. At position 190, “Phantom” isn’t trying to be a hit. It’s trying to haunt. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t blow up — it lingers. You hear it once, and then you hear it again in your head when everything else goes quiet. Rico Ace & Esdeekid didn’t make a song. They made a presence.
	It doesn’t start with a bang. It starts with a hum — low, steady, like the engine of a luxury car idling in the dark. “MMMaybach” by Miü & Donguralesko enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 191, and from the first second, it’s clear this track isn’t chasing attention. It’s gliding past it, tinted windows up, bassline humming like a secret. Miü, a rising Polish alt-pop artist, brings a voice that’s more vapor than melody. She doesn’t sing to impress — she sings to disappear. Her delivery is soft, almost ghostlike, floating above the beat like fog over asphalt. There’s a detachment in her tone, but it’s not cold. It’s calculated. She’s not telling you how she feels. She’s showing you what it feels like to not say anything at all. Donguralesko, a heavyweight in Poland’s hip-hop scene, enters like a philosopher in a fur coat. His verse isn’t a flex — it’s a constellation. He references stars, spirits, and speed, weaving metaphors that feel cosmic and cryptic. He’s not rapping about the Maybach as a car. He’s rapping about it as a portal — a way out, a way through, a way beyond. His flow is smooth but dense, like silk wrapped around stone. The production is minimalist, icy, and hypnotic. Synths shimmer like city lights in the rain. The beat doesn’t drop — it drips. There’s no chorus, no climax, no resolution. Just a loop that feels like a thought you can’t shake. It’s not built for the club. It’s built for the night drive you take when you don’t want to go home. At position 191, “MMMaybach” isn’t a hit in the traditional sense. It’s a mood, a mirage, a moment. You don’t dance to it. You dissolve into it.
	“Nexo 04. Tu Cuerpo en Braille” by Nil Moliner enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 198, and it doesn’t ask for permission — it simply arrives, like a letter you didn’t know you were waiting for. The title alone is a poem: “Your Body in Braille.” It suggests intimacy, mystery, and a kind of tactile longing that words can’t quite reach. Nil Moliner, the Spanish singer-songwriter known for blending pop with emotional storytelling, delivers a track that feels handwritten. His voice is warm, textured, and slightly frayed around the edges — like a photograph that’s been folded too many times. He doesn’t sing to impress. He sings to connect. And in this song, that connection is physical, emotional, and deeply vulnerable. The production is understated but rich. Acoustic guitar lays the foundation, soft percussion adds heartbeat-like rhythm, and ambient flourishes drift in and out like passing thoughts. There’s no bombast, no overproduction. Just space — space for the lyrics to breathe, for the melody to settle, for the listener to lean in. Lyrically, the song is a study in metaphor. Moliner doesn’t describe a person — he describes the experience of knowing someone by touch, by instinct, by memory. “I read you with my hands,” he sings, and it’s not just romantic. It’s reverent. The track feels like a love letter written in silence, in gestures, in the spaces between words. At position 198, this isn’t a chart-climber — it’s a chart-wanderer. It’s not built for the top. It’s built for the quiet corners of the playlist, the late-night drives, the moments when you need music that understands without explaining. Nil Moliner has crafted something tender, tactile, and timeless. “Tu Cuerpo en Braille” doesn’t shout. It whispers. And sometimes, that’s louder than anything else.
	“I Run” by Haven. enters the Euro 200™ chart at position 200, and it doesn’t walk — it bolts. From the first second, the track feels like motion. Not the kind that’s graceful or planned, but the kind that’s desperate. Urgent. Like someone sprinting through a city they no longer recognize. Haven., a rising artist from Germany’s indie-electronic scene, delivers vocals that feel like breathless confessions. There’s no polish here — just raw energy. Her voice cracks in places, stretches in others, always teetering on the edge of collapse. She’s not singing to be heard. She’s singing because she has to. Because if she stops, something catches up. The production is kinetic. A driving synth line pulses like adrenaline, layered over percussion that mimics footsteps — fast, uneven, relentless. There’s a tension in the rhythm, like the track itself is trying to outrun something. It’s not clean. It’s not smooth. It’s alive. Lyrically, “I Run” is fragmented, like thoughts mid-flight. Lines like “I left the lights on so I wouldn’t forget” and “every street looks like a memory I erased” hit hard. It’s not a narrative. It’s a chase scene. Emotional, physical, maybe even spiritual. You don’t get answers. You get fragments. And somehow, that’s enough. At position 200, this track barely made the cut — but it doesn’t care. “I Run” isn’t here to climb. It’s here to escape. Haven. has crafted a song that feels like flight — not toward something, but away. And in that motion, there’s something beautiful. Something terrifying. Something true.
	Look at last week's reviews here
	"The Hitmaster: mastering the rhythm of chart-topping hits."