From Bavarian Alps to Chart-Topping Success: The Oimara Phenomenon
A singer-songwriter hailing from the picturesque region of Upper Bavaria has unexpectedly stormed the German single charts, proving that local dialect and unconventional melodies can resonate with a national audience. Oimara, whose real name is Beni Hafner, a 33-year-old artist from Tegernsee, is currently dominating carnival parties and après-ski scenes with his infectious tune, "Wackelkontakt" (Loose Contact).
The song’s success has ignited dreams of even greater heights. Oimara envisions his music gracing the stages of the legendary Oktoberfest. "It would be great, of course, if we had another Bavarian Wiesnhit," he remarks, referring to a song that becomes a staple of the world-famous beer festival. More significantly, he underscores the unprecedented nature of his achievement: "That a Bavarian dialect song lands at number one in the single charts: that has never happened before."
The stage name "Oimara" itself carries an air of mystique, often mispronounced with emphasis on the first or second "a". However, the correct pronunciation stresses the "Oi," a deliberate nod to his origins. "Oimara" is Bavarian dialect for "Almerer," which translates to "the one who comes from the Alm" or mountain pasture.
Oimara’s journey began on his parents’ Hafner-Alm, nestled high above Lake Tegernsee. The location, a scenic but secluded spot, required a 90-minute walk to the village and school below. This isolated environment, however, was far from quiet. The family ran a guest house, bustling with visitors. In addition, they operated an animal rescue station, creating a vibrant menagerie of creatures, contributing to Oimara’s unique upbringing.
His musical inclinations surfaced early. "I tinkered on all sorts of things," he recalls. Around the age of ten, he received his first guitar and embraced a self-taught approach. "I taught myself everything," he affirms. Encouraged by his father, he began performing his initial compositions at the Alm, although he harbored reservations.
"I didn’t want to play in front of people. I was afraid of it – I still am today," he confesses. Despite his apprehension, his performances were well-received. This led to a booking for the birthday party of renowned actor Fritz Wepper and a debut performance at the esteemed Vereinsheim in Schwabing, a renowned cabaret venue in Munich. In 2018, his online presence gained traction with the release of "Bierle in der Sun" (Little Beer in the Sun).
Now, "Wackelkontakt" has catapulted him into the national spotlight. The song opens with an unexpected and somewhat perplexing statement: "If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a lamp from the seventies." This quirky image gives listeners pause, prompting contemplation. He continues, "I like to glow, I like to go out, it blows my fuses." Is it simply a drinking song? The lyrics take a more enigmatic turn. "I suck the nuclear power plants dry, I run on eight thousand amps."
Through a series of evocative allusions and clever wordplay related to electricity and light, the offbeat song invites multiple interpretations. "I like to stand on the line," he sings, adding, "…but now and then a light flickers in my head, too." During the chorus, a Wackeldackel (bobblehead dachshund), a popular German car accessory, sways rhythmically. The song’s catchy melody and infectious groove encourage listeners to sing along and move to the beat.
"Wackelkontakt" is a musical oddity, defying easy categorization. It features acoustic guitar and brass instruments, suddenly giving way to high-speed techno beats. Later, a children’s choir joins the mix, adding another layer of sonic texture.
"Of course, you think something about it," Oimara explains regarding his compositions. "That’s the beauty of ambiguity: there’s a lot of room for interpretation and everyone can think of their own part," Beni Hafner expounds. "But the intention when I wrote the song was simply to make music."
Adding another surprising element to his persona, Oimara admits that he cannot read music. He trained as a chef, spending several years working in kitchens in Mallorca. He even enrolled in a hotel management program at the prestigious Seehotel Überfahrt on Lake Tegernsee but eventually dropped out. "I decided: I’m going to be a musician. Back then, everyone thought I was crazy," he recalls.
Oimara’s rise is a testament to the power of authentic expression and the unpredictable nature of popular taste. His blend of Bavarian dialect, quirky lyrics, and eclectic musical influences has struck a chord with audiences across Germany. Whether "Wackelkontakt" becomes an Oktoberfest anthem remains to be seen, but Oimara has undoubtedly carved a unique niche for himself in the German music scene. His story is a reminder that sometimes, the most unexpected paths lead to the greatest success, and that staying true to one’s roots can resonate far beyond the familiar mountain pastures.
