If this country has a pop star, such a real pop star with all the trimmings, i.e. hits and charisma, glamor and gossip, then it is Nina Chuba. She personifies the classic promotion story from the children’s actress to the chart mopper, but also clearly tells how the quick success led to the therapy couch. After often cited a 13 -month break, the Berliner celebrated a comeback with the second album.
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I love myself, I don’t love myself – the title indicates it – she processes this experience, but of course not as an internality trip with acoustic guitar. After all, it is pop, and it is bright and colorful and changeable, as if Chuba wanted to live out one of the facets of her personality in every song that were promoted during psychotherapy. She explores the playful self -destruction (“young, stupid & free”), survives a toxic relationship (“fucked up”), has sex with whom she wants (“Maledives”), becomes a damn angry (“rage girl”) and is confident enough to celebrate yourself. “Nina” opens the album, a cool brass track with a Seeed Vibe, which not only shows musically clearly how quickly the now has grown up 26-year-old.
In her biggest hit so far, Chuba wanted to “for breakfast Canapés and a Wildberry-Slillet”, today she knows: “I even have my pants on the little blacks.” So confidently she wags an airy summer hit (“forgotten”) and then lets the guitars creak (“end”), tries on a Torch song (“if that is love”) and then unpacks the acoustic, the Philipp-Poisel-Wattageha is put in the cheek and then counteracts it with heavy beats (“insecure”). But at some point, you can bet on that, the singer/songwriter album is still coming.
This review first appeared in the MusikExpress 10/2025.