It’s not always easy overcoming your inner badass—especially in the world of hip-hop and rap. But it’s worth doing: as one of the seven members of rap crew WAS DAS?, Smeshi has already showered thousands of fans with content that tells the genre’s clichés to take a hike. Whether it’s reworking the national anthem or penning an ode to uptight small-town life, it’s all about self-reflection. The next step is a new solo project under a new moniker, and Luci Bling (they/them) is getting listeners to be part of the process. Bling’s highly personal songs about worries, weaknesses, and misgendering show that it’s perfectly possible to dream and stay true to yourself.

This kind of “bling” is all about being glitzy, cute, and kitsch. And the title of their debut EP, Gloss und Hype, really nails the project: Bling has created an outlet for moods that range from pop to hyperpop without laying claim to any specific genre. According to Bling, their musical interests are much too fluid for that. But then they also say: “If I imagine going to a rap concert, it sounds way less cute than going to a pop concert.”

“Ich wird widr mol misgendered / ineme Backstage voller Rapper / setze uf die altebewährti Technik / wär isch krass, wär krässr”

(“I get misgendered again / backstage full of rappers / rely on the good old tricks / who’s sick, who’s sicker”)
—from the song “Nice Try”

Once Bling gets onstage and performs, you can’t tear yourself away: they look relaxed, their gestures are charismatic, the lyrics are revealingly honest. “I always found performing easy,” admits Bling with a grin, “but it wasn’t planned, it just happened.” This nonchalance seems to be the vibe: during Eurovision, Bling (as Smeshi) will be back performing with WAS DAS? on the large stage at downtown Basel’s Barfüsserplatz. But, appearing solo as Luci Bling, they’ve also grabbed the attention of the indie music scene: as the opening act of this year’s Kick Ass Awards organized by Radio 3FACH in Lucerne, and performing, just two days later, at the brand-new Kuppel venue here in Basel. These were not only the first two concerts in the new solo project, but also the first time that Bling had ever stood onstage alone without the crew.

“so viel am verlerne, doch no immr lerne / wie mi sälbr liebe, ohni inneri Härti / ohni immr zerscht mir sälbr pressure mache / es isch endless so tief und fescht verankert”

(“So much to unlearn, but still learning / to love myself without my inner badass / not always stressing myself first, it’s endless, so deeply fixed in me”)
—from the song “Nacht” (Night)

Toxic gender clichés are still a big part of the rap scene, and unthinking artists spread these ideas to hordes of younger fans. Even Bling, at the start of their creative journey a decade ago, was socialized by this culture of being better, phatter, sicker. “There just weren’t any role models,” they reflect, and stress that “listening to and trusting my inner voice was a long process, and it still is.” It hasn’t gone down well with everyone, and the virulently transphobic comments that regularly land in Bling’s inbox are hurtful, but also make them feel a touch of pride. As a musician who is trying to be as authentic as possible, Luci Bling is suddenly becoming something of a role model for genderqueer rappers, confronting patriarchal power structures with self-love and cuteness. And so the journey through the pop galaxy proceeds with new songs, a new EP, and a whole lotta bling—this fall at the very latest.

Text: Mirco Kaempf
Photos: Pati Grabowcz

Odette Hella’Grand is an artistic figure. An elegant, classy drag queen who exudes the glamour of old Hollywood. She is the creation of a very large and muscular man who dominates the stage as a woman. And it is precisely this contradiction that has become an intense form of symbiosis for her. “Odette allows me to be more direct and more honest, to be nastier, without having to excuse myself,” she says. But for all that she inhabits the role, there is still a clear separation between her private life and being onstage: “At 10:30 p.m. I take off my makeup and am myself again.” Odette prefers to describe her work as “travesty.” “I distance myself from American drag culture à la RuPaul’s Drag Race, where it’s all about drama and money. The craft is what’s important to me: homemade costumes, my own wigs, putting together a show.” As a host, she prefers collaboration and talent promotion over self-projection.

“Egotism doesn’t do anything to help the drag scene. I want to get other people up onstage.”

Basel may not by a major drag center, but Odette has played a key role in building a scene in the city. “Ten years ago, there were no evening-long drag shows here,” she remembers. “For me, it was important to bring drag out of the club scene and cherish it as a form of art. Not performing at half past one in the morning between DJ sets when everyone just wants to dance. I want audiences that come especially to see us.” And in the meantime, a lot of people are coming: “From the twelve-year-old kid who wanted to come to my show with his family to the ninety-five-year-old grandpa who was just curious. I always ask who in the audience is attending their first drag show, and it’s always around fifty percent.”

She doesn’t see herself as a flag-waving political activist, though. “Of course, my performance is a statement. I’m a man appearing onstage as a woman, which means I’m questioning social norms. I want my audience to laugh and be entertained—but they should also start thinking while they’re laughing.” One of her most emotional memories is her performance at a funeral. “After the show, the widower pressed flowers from his husband’s grave into my hand and said: ‘This is my husband’s last bouquet for your art.’ I walked home with two hundred roses and knew that what I do is really important to people.”

During the Eurovision Song Contest, she’s moderating the Eurovision Village in the Basel Congress Center, together with Tanja Dankner and Joël von Mutzenbecher, and she shares the stage with Conchita Wurst, Anna Rossinelli, Rednex, and SNAP! “I remember seeing the Danish artist DQ perform at Eurovision in 2007 and thinking, ‘What the fuck, is that a man?’ In ‘Drama Queen,’ she sings about how she brings color to the grayness of everyday life. I mean, hell yes, nothing better than that. For me, the Eurovision will be the glittering queer party of the century.” If you’d like to see more of Odette live, she’ll be performing on May 16 from 7 to 11 p.m. at Sudhaus.

Text: Anja Adam
Photos: Pati Grabowicz

Denis Wagner (they/them) writes poetry, creates theatrical projects, and sings at major festivals around the world. Right now, Wagner is on tour with the metal band Zeal & Ardor, and in May they’ll be appearing on the Barfüsser stage with their own band, Hæsin, as part of the supporting program for the Eurovision Song Contest. We got together with the artist to talk about being famous, the drive to entertain people on stage, and deeply held beliefs.

As far as Wagner is concerned, it has always been about just getting out there and performing. Childhood photos show them singing with a candle as a makeshift microphone. Despite being able to read entire books by the age of six, they point out, “It wasn’t that I was any brighter than the others. I just always found stories massively cool.” The same was true for music and acting. Wagner, who had been involved in setting up two bands by the time they were fifteen and was already an experienced performer, comments:

“I always wanted to be famous.”

But they see things differently these days: “I find it more important to be able to choose whatever I want to do.”

They like things that others find weird, like leeches and silverfish. The latter appear in a children’s book that they wrote and is currently waiting to be completed. Leeches play the leading role in one of the artist’s plays, Horror and the Healer, cowritten with Luzius Bauer and Leonie Merlin Young; it was produced for the 2021 Treibstoff theater festival. “I’m interested in things that are ambiguous, that you can discover from a new point of view. I like turning deeply held beliefs upside down.” The fact that Wagner sings with a metal band fits in well with this ambiguity. They don’t view themselves as a metal singer—Hæsin is closer to indie pop or rock, and the artist writes the lyrics for their songs in standard German rather than Swiss. Wagner’s voice can sound velvety soft, “but I like yelling on stage too,” they admit, referring to joining Zeal & Ardor in 2016. They were already singing and shouting onstage at Junges Theater Basel back in 2010, in a mash-up of music and theater called Punk Rock (“I like it when people see me as an entertainer”). Anyone who’s ever been to a Zeal & Ardor or Hæsin gig knows that Wagner doesn’t just sing but rather embraces a very specific role. They like dancing and moving around while performing—“I think it’s great that everything is allowed onstage”—and that’s where their acting experience shines through. They wouldn’t necessarily wear a skirt IRL, but onstage it makes them feel secure and carefree. When asked if Nemo’s victory was justified, Denis answers, “Anyone who says it’s a political decision should try sticking themselves on a rotating disc and singing opera.” But it was a crucial decision for society nonetheless: “Right after winning, Nemo started campaigning for nonbinary people to be officially recognized in Switzerland. It’s a really appealing idea to just not have a sex listed at all on your passport rather than lots of identities being lumped together under a ‘third’ option labeled ‘diverse.’”

Wagner is looking forward to performing with Hæsin on the Barfüsserplatz stage, “I think it’s important that we put on a good lineup as the Eurovision host. And Barfi—as the venue is affectionately known—is always bursting with positive energy.” Who knows? Maybe Hæsin will premiere a few fresh songs. Four new tracks have already been recorded, and the album is scheduled to drop later this year.

Text: Danielle Bürgin
Photos: Jana Jenarin Beyerlein

At a time when violence is steadily becoming a global political leitmotif, implanting a violence-themed festival into the heart of a city is definitely a bold undertaking—or even an outright adventurous one. Either way, Benedikt Wyss, curator and joint manager at Kunstverein SALTS, fits the bill, and with Theater Basel needing someone with a good feel for complex themes and the right timing to cause some upheaval, they approached Wyss to organize a happening on the theme of violence.

“Violence is so ubiquitous,”

says Wyss. “But we don’t talk about it enough. That intrigues me.” Which is why, while the event that’s set to go down in Basel does recall the happenings of the past, it also opens up a new chapter in his professional biography.

Wyss studied history and sports and qualified as a high school teacher before gravitating toward the art world. “I’m interested in mediating. In the question of how we communicate.” While training as a curator at the Berlin University of the Arts, he chanced upon the Social Muscle Club in 2013 and imported it to Basel.

The first thing he needed there was a venue—the ballroom of the five-star hotel Les Trois Rois, for example. Regular people, uncertain what to expect but all spiffed up nonetheless, would meet here in a spirit of curiosity and get to know one another in small groups under the guidance of hosts. The idea was for them to treat each other to something. The sharing was interspersed with brilliant show elements and beguiling surprises that turned the Social Muscle Club into a full-on experience—a heady mix of self-help group and collective rapture. Anyone who’d experienced it wanted to go back again. The good news is that a relaunch is scheduled for 2026—an Ultra Social Club.

Wyss’s event philosophy is also reflected in his invention of the Draisine Derby. Held once a year on some defunct freight tracks, this is a race for teams in self-built vehicles, and there’s even a prize for the team that fails most spectacularly. “That’s probably the most important cup,” he admits.

But his latest offering goes by the name of Social Fight Club: Sampling Violence at Theater Basel. What’s this all about?

The context is a production with the brash title of Ode to Europe’s Violent Youth. Together with Inga Schonlau, Wyss is in charge of curating a three-week happening around this production to explore the multiple facets of violence. There will be workshops, debates, self-defense classes, and a games night.

“We want to provide a space for physical experiences and collective reflection,”

he says.

As so often in Wyss’s work, the goal is not just to connect place, theme, and audience, but to set something in motion between them—to generate shared momentum. And of course this coming together and search for a common language is the only appropriate answer to the political theme of our time: violence.

Yes, there will be house rules. But neither money nor status will be prerequisites for entry to the first Social Fight Club in Basel. Wyss hopes that as many people as possible will drop in.

Text: Daniel Faulhaber
Photos: Jana Jenarin Beyerlein

Bebbi Zine is published for the third time in May/June 2025 to celebrate, promote, and connect the cultural scene of Basel – initiated and published by the Verein Bebbi Zine.

Authors
Anja Adam, Danielle Bürgin, Daniel Faulhaber, Mirco Kämpf, Samara Leite Walt, Kito Nedo, Timo Posselt

Photographers
Pati Grabowicz, Jana Jenarin Beyerlein

Editorial Board
Sina Gerschwiler, Philomena Grütter, Samara Leite Walt, Claudio Vogt

Special Thanks
Chrissie Muhr, Kito Nedo