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"Die Drogen" were part of an alternative movement that positioned itself in the tradition of punk and new wave, but at the same time didn't shy away from pop elements and ironic humor. Their lyrics were biting, their performances ecstatic, their attitude uncompromising. Aesthetically and thematically, they operated at the intersection of subversion, consumer critique, and hedonism—precisely where the histories of cannabis and subculture have intersected for decades.
Many fans saw "Die Drogen" as a reflection of a generation that refused to choose between downfall and consciousness, between escapism and political ambition. The band name itself was a metaphor for the seduction of the system—but also an ironic wink at a society that constantly produces new addictions, be they digital dopamine hits or capitalist consumer trends.
Subculture was never simply a style or musical taste. It was a protest, a stance, a lifestyle. Since the 1960s, music has been considered a central means of expression for marginalized social groups, political movements, and young people who couldn't stand the status quo. From hippie rock to punk to techno, music has always been a vehicle for expanding consciousness, self-determination, and collective experience.
The common denominator of many of these movements? Cannabis and hemp. Even in the 1960s, smoking weed was standard equipment in the hippie and protest movements. In the 1980s, punks smoked more secretly, but with the same rebellious attitude. By the 1990s and early 2000s, during the heyday of bands like "Die Drogen," cannabis had long since become an integral part of alternative nightlife.
Frenetic, polarizing, and energetic: The concerts of the band “Die Drogen” were often full of surprises, which is why the band quickly made a name for itself in the 2000s.
In many songs, flyers, posters, and statements, cannabis appeared as a symbol of resistance—against surveillance, against social control, against pressure to perform. The joint became a symbol of freedom, a way to escape the machine. "Die Drogen" also played with these symbols: not to glorify drug use, but to point out social double standards.
Cannabis was never simply a substance. It was a statement—against war, against capitalism, against the establishment. And in this role, it was passed on from generation to generation.
"Die Drogen" weren't alone. They were part of a widespread network of bands, activists, artists, cannabis shops, left-wing centers, and DIY publishers, all working together to create an alternative public. Their performances were less concerts in the traditional sense, but more like happenings—places of networking, exchange, and resistance. Dramas at performances were also not uncommon.
Especially in cities like Berlin, Leipzig, or Hamburg, where subculture is an integral part of the urban DNA, one could see how closely music, cannabis, and social criticism were intertwined. The backstage areas smelled of weed, the cannabis plant was omnipresent on the flyers, and the lyrics were about more than heartbreak—they were about identity, freedom, and a critique of consumerism.
Hemp was not just an intoxicant, but increasingly also an everyday product. Many activists early on advocated for the rediscovery of hemp as a useful plant – whether in clothing, paper, building materials, or natural cosmetics. Tallow balm gave way to CBD cream, and plastic gave way to hemp biocomposite. This development took place in small circles – but precisely where subculture always begins.
What was once considered dangerous and forbidden can now be found in health food stores: CBD products, hemp ointments, teas, and natural cosmetics with hemp oil. The social transformation in the way we deal with hemp is impressive – and is also reflected in the development of the subculture. Where provocation and transgression once dominated, today the focus is on awareness of sustainability, health, and holistic health.
The former rebellion has become part of everyday life. But that doesn't mean it has lost its impact—quite the opposite. It has changed structures, sparked discourse, and made alternatives visible.
Brands like CBDÍA are emblematic of this new era. They combine well-known hemp virtues—naturalness, regionality, sustainability—with modern standards of efficacy, design, and legality. The products have a calming, anti-inflammatory, and regenerative effect—without intoxication, but with full awareness.
What's so exciting about it? Many of these ideas have their roots in subculture. The aesthetic design, the DIY mentality, the reliance on plant power over pharmaceutical companies—all of this stems from the same cultural sources from which "The Drugs" once drew their power.
As early as the Middle Ages, hemp was one of Europe's most important crops. Its fibers were processed into sailcloth, clothing, and rope. In times of war, hemp was even of strategic importance. It wasn't until the 20th century that its slow decline began – initiated by political interests, economic power games, and, last but not least, an artificially fueled drug scare narrative.
Today, hemp is experiencing a renaissance – as a textile, as a food, and as a cosmetic ingredient. The popularity of CBD products is also leading to a reassessment of the plant. The subculture has always been a few steps ahead, experimenting with hemp creams, hemp beer, and hemp paper long before it became mainstream.