I didn’t write this song because I felt like dancing. I wrote it because sitting still was no longer survivable.
“TANZEN” was born in a moment where talking became useless. Too many opinions. Too many explanations. Too many people trying to feel everything without moving an inch. I was standing there, mentally overloaded, externally functional, and my body already knew what my brain was still negotiating.
Move. Or sink.
Dancing is not a hobby. Dancing is survival with rhythm. A physical objection to stagnation, to reason, to that quiet agreement with slowly disappearing.
The beat of “TANZEN” doesn’t politely enter the room. It kicks the door in. It doesn’t ask how your day was. It doesn’t care about your excuses. It grabs you by the collar and says: now. Not tomorrow. Not later. Now.
I’ve learned that people are more honest in clubs than in daylight. In daylight they lie to themselves. In clubs they sweat the truth out. “TANZEN” exists exactly for that moment. The second you lose yourself just enough to realize that losing yourself was the solution.
The track is blunt because life is blunt. The track is direct because detours are a waste of time. The track is loud because quiet stopped working.
I didn’t want to make a song that explains. I wanted one that forces. Not violently. Inevitably.
When “TANZEN” plays, there’s no debate left about who you are, what you want, or why you’re standing there. Your body takes over the negotiation. And your body is a damn good lawyer.
Rein.Hart exists for this exact state. When thinking shuts up and something real starts. When the room blurs and you suddenly realize: I’m here. Fully here.
This is not a track for background playlists. This is music for rooms where the air gets thin. For eyes that glow. For people who want to feel themselves again.
If you stand still during “TANZEN”, you missed the point. Or you’re afraid of what happens when you let go. Both are understandable. Only one is freedom.
The bass doesn’t lie. The body doesn’t either. So dance.
Rein.Hart.