In Götz Alsmann's biography, three dates are very close together. There is July 12, 1957, noted as the day of his birth, the year 1959 as the one in which the Alsmann family acquired a television, and in the category 1961 there is a sentence from which everything else can actually be derived: "Götz decides to become a musician or find another way to get into television."
If all four-year-olds had such determination, the advisors in the employment agencies would not have so much trouble inspiring young people for a profession. At some point later, however, there must have been significant disruptions in Alsmann's worldview, as at a certain point he decided to ignore current world events and only indulge in the past, using the modern world while remaining foreign to it as a guardian of a personal taste museum.
With Götz Alsmann, the form must be right. Always and under all circumstances. Unthinkable to meet this man in jogging pants at the kiosk. Even at a young age, little Götz learned that one must dress properly, even if one does not leave the house. He was instilled with a special form of self-respect and thereby also a considerable strength for self-assertion.
He needed that, too, because the times for the interpreter of dusty swing hits were not always as rosy as they are now. For a long time, he had to struggle to convince others of his musical preferences, of his penchant for crackling shellac and vinyl records.
He calls himself Professor Bop when he plays the old records on WDR radio and digs through music history. His musical doctoral thesis can be found in the German National Library under the title "Nothing but Noise." It is about independent record labels and the development of popular American music between 1943 and 1963.
Alsmann has absorbed many trends. He was in London when the first punks were getting ready there, and despite his well-maintained refusal to embrace everything new, he has also occasionally drawn honey from current sounds. In 1985, he celebrated his first significant success beyond the region with a swinging version of the Depeche Mode hit "People Are People." Since then, people have known the man with the funny tuft and the bizarrely old-fashioned glasses beyond his hometown of Münster.
Shortly thereafter, television took notice of him. As early as 1986, he hosted "Roxy – the magazine for young adults" on WDR television. It was not a huge success, just like his later appearances rarely climbed more than a few rungs on the success ladder. Most often, the journey upward came to a halt again soon. There were quite a few who saw Alsmann as a guarantor of flops. This only changed when he took over the hosting of the show "Zimmer frei!" together with Christine Westermann in 1996, which was initially only intended to fill the summer gap, unaware that the show would successfully flicker across screens until 2016.
In it, Alsmann played himself and awakened from his clownish stupor as a whimsical prompt-giver whenever he got to make music with the guest of the show. Then he radiated enthusiasm, joy of life, and passion. It is this feeling that he also brings to his always sold-out concerts. He gives the monkey sugar, just as he learned from television early on, but he never ingratiates himself with the medium. He is certainly still a bit of the four-year-old who simply fulfilled an early dream. It is exactly for this determination that people love him.
