Zeitungsartikel aus GB

Around 1997 a strange Bavarian folk-punk-rock band than trading as Hundsbuam Miserablige (Miserable Curs), nowadays abbreviated to HUNDSBUAM (Dog boys), entered my life.
Imagine a Bavarian Pogues for a feel of what they do. The difficult third album syndrome certainly applies to Hoam (BMG ) but in a good way. It contains plentiful food for thought though its basic sound palette of guitar, squeezeboxes, brass and percussion, but, for example, the reggaefied brass on »Rutschma« is enough to make the Old Boys of Alpha Boy´s School in Kingston, JA contort with pleasure. In Baron Edinger they still have one of Germany´s finest muti-limbed drummers. What he delivers provides the heartbeat that keeps Hundsbuam´s heart pumping.
(Ken Hunt, Record recorder/folk collector, NOV2004)

Bavaria has the ability to conjure cliché of world class proportions. For somebody like myself raised on Northern German sonorities, Bavaria runs ultima thule a close second. The music of the Hundsbuben – permit me the Northern German alternative or affectation – has been the most thrilling, most innovative act I have ever witnessed out of Bavaria. What hit home from the very first listening was the way they assert a Bavarian cultural identity in the face of Northern German snootiness. The immediate comparison for me was the way Los Lobos championed Mexican-American culture in the face of WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) tendencies.
Hundsbuben are a Bavarian crown of creation. They have all the potential to move me longterm the way los Lobos have.
On his Radio Brandenburg programme Michael kleff asked us off mike about Hundsbuam. Scarlett Seeboldt of Wacholder grinned that you couldn’t get away with what Hundsbuam sing if singing in High German. I laughed and said it was a case of understanding Bahnhof (literally railway station, colloquially buggerall). But it was a fib. Hundsbuam have provided me with a crash course in Bavarian.
KEN HUNT (Rough Guide to World Music)

Hundsbuam Miserablige may not be the first folk/rock group to come down from the alpine meadows – but nothing has ever sounded like them, from the woodchopper punk of Hoizhakka Pogo or the sheer brass of Blaserer’s arrangement, with its slivered electric guitar.
They are not only assertive but affirmative about Bavaria as if in some manic Bavarian dance, they slap you repeatedly round the face sonically but have you reeling back for more.
Without a doubt, the Dog-dudes are one of 1996’s revelations.
Mojo, 10/96

From the first barnyard cackles on, it’s plainly evident that the lads are out to deconstruct everything you thought you knew about German music. So polkas get pummeled, biergartens are firmly trashed, and all the while the oompah-oompah beat goes on. Yes, they do it all with style, wit, and even economy. The fact that they also happen to be good musicians means that they can do it well. This is, essentially, like a bunch of punks regurgitating the traditional music you held dear, reclaiming it for an entirely new generation – i.e., it’s exactly what the doctor ordered. More fun than several barrels full of monkeys, kicking livelier than Klinsmann on a Saturday afternoon, this is what music should be about. Not just in Germany, but everywhere. The term ethnopunk has been floated around a lot lately. If you want a perfect definition, take a listen to this.
Dirty Linen, Feb./Mar 96

Ethno Punk Vol.2, most definitely has to include Germany’s Hundsbuam Miserablige, for whom the genre would have been instantly coined if we hadn’t already invented it! They mix up the expected traditional squeezeboxes and brass with lagershout vocals and those heretic electric guitars, bass and drums that the trad-police the developed world over love to hate. Not in itself an unusual notion, but the in-yer-face ferocity and take-no-prisoners extreme to which they push it has few parallels, making your average folkrockers (or even Pogues) sound like mincing ninnies.
FolkROOTS, REVIEWS, July ‚96

Non-Bavarians customarily view Bavaria as the hothouse heartland of extreme conservatism. The band, whose name translates to „Miserable Curs“, is assertive about its homeland’s culture and worth. `Hoitzhakka Pogo` is a cliché. „Our statement is simply this: we aren’t Holzhacker, aren’t idiots: we know what we want, and we get it too.“
Pulse!, Okt. 96