Unbelievable! The “singende Herrentorte” in the Chancellery of the Reich! And then in a mustard yellow and brown training suit! When he embodied Mein Führer in Dani Levy’s film-farce of the same name in 2007, he caused what he always causes: irritation. Can he do that? He, the anarchist, the clown, the big improviser? Yes, he can.

Contrary to other actors, however, Helge Schneider sees his role as Adolf Hitler as only one facet of his work. Thinking in categories does not suit someone like Helge Schneider. This man is jazz. Or better yet: free jazz. In everything he does. Helge Schneider, who was born in Mülheim an der Ruhr in 1955 and already played instruments such as the piano and cello as a child, is a jazz musician, political satirist, comedian, actor, author, and filmmaker—in short: a total work of art. He didn’t need a diploma for this career. On his biography, he lists two semesters of concert piano at the Duisburg conservatory.

His life seems like a big “let’s see.” In the 1970s Schneider liked to stand in the local Eduscho café, eavesdropped on the “grandpas” at the next table, who volunteered their cantankerous workaday philosophies, and instinctively collected material for his later stage appearances. In the 1980s he resolutely turned to jazz, played with Albert Mangelsdorff, and composed film music for director Werner Nekes.

Nekes then engaged him to play the title role of pop bard Jürgen Potzkothen in Johnny Flash in 1986. In that comedy, Schneider also took over the role of a certain Christoph Schlingensief, a chaotic pop singer with a tendency to death metal. In addition, he stood in front of the camera for the real Schlingensief in his films Menue Total and Mutters Maske. Together with Nekes, they were, as Schneider would say, the “three funny twosomes” of the Mülheim underground art scene at that time.

In the early 1990s Helge Schneider became known to a broader audience under his stage name “Die singende Herrentorte” (literally, the singing men’s cake). That is due to the comedy boom at the time as well as Schneider’s infantile number-one hit Katzeklo. With this simple little song, he flitted about in programs such as RTL Samstag Nacht or Schmidteinander, exasperating and enthusing his audience in equal parts. After an appearance on Wetten, dass…? half Germany knew him, and many of the new fans stormed the cinemas to see Texas, Schneider’s interpretation of a Western. Filmed on the set of the Karl-May-Festspiele in Elspe, Sauerland, this children’s birthday tale recounts the adventures of Doc Snyder (Schneider) who rides through Western clichés in a blue polyester suit and sombrero and in the evening reads to his horse at the campfire from Wendy, the equestrian girls’ magazine.

Further films such as 00 Schneider or Jazzclub: Der frühe Vogel fängt den Wurm followed but the stage always drew Schneider back. At times he is fed up with his own success. He playfully wards off the comedy audience that loudly and repeatedly demands Katzeklo at his concerts. Either he tells a completely different story or he uncompromisingly plays jazz for ninety minutes. Nevertheless, the house is always sold out.

The stage is and remains the focus of Helge Schneider’s life and work. There he can do as he likes. On demand he expands silly little songs from three to twenty minutes, he repeatedly strays from the point while telling stories and playing, loses himself in a piano solo, and giggles about himself.

His tendency to verbal dadaism is obvious in the titles of his songs, albums, and tours: Bonbon aus Wurst, Eiersalat in Rock, Wullewupp Kartoffelsupp, Ich habe mich vertan! (I made a mistake!). The latter is programmatic but it doesn’t matter. Mistakes usually mean for Helge Schneider the beginning of something new. Be it in song or in life. He just likes to try out something unknown. Writes all of a sudden autobiographical books like Guten Tach!, produces Mendy: das Wusical at Schauspielhaus Bochum or sits as an alleged German Armed Forces soldier in an interview on Alexander Kluge’s nightly cultural TV experiment dctp. As we said—the man is free jazz. Dixieland, those are the others.