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Columns
Hey, bitch!
Actually, for the right typing position for
a column I need a sullen surliness. But the sun
is shining, and I’m listening to carnival music
on Radio Hollandio. Tell me, who in the world
comes up with the lyrics of these Dutch songs?
Okay, I get it! And who the hell listens to them?
Yes, I hear you thinking it … me! Once in a
while! I listen to the sound, but especially the
lyrics. Even though the words often make no
sense, I can’t help cracking up at the blunt
phrases and the corny statements of the obvious.
How in the world do you come up with a sentence
like this: “Hey, bitch, come and snuggle up to
me”. Or this one: “Wanna lick my lolly?” And
sometimes they even reach the top 10.
Our one and only Guus Meeuwis sings: “on the
floor lies an empty bottle of wine …” That’s
obviously impossible, for the bottle is empty.
Either a bottle of wine on the floor, or an
empty bottle. Sure, I understand that “wine” has
to make the song rhyme with “and clothes that
can be yours or mine”, but still, I would be
deeply ashamed to write a sentence like that.
With a bit of smart thinking you can make it
rhyme plus make sense. In one of his songs Guus
goes outside “with-without-coat” (yes, that’s
what you hear a coatless Dutchman say). Sure, my
nagging mother managed to knock that phraseology
out of me. Thanks, mom! But apparently the
listener doesn’t give a shit if a sentence makes
sense or not.
A clever follower on Twitter asked me just why I
listen to Dutch songs. Yes, good question. It is
one of my sins. Just like a bag of French fries
with ketchup can make you feel good, André Hazes
and friends can do the same. Me anyway. But
Hazes is class. I listen also to honestly stupid
crap. Especially when I’m lost. But Rudy
Carell’s “together for a walk” is, if you listen
closely, a pretty song with lyrics that a
grammarian will appreciate. Just like the songs
by Jaap Fischer and Cornelis Vreeswijk. It’s
true art when Vreeswijk sings: “Where do we go
when we are dead? Reveal this mystery, have it
said! Tell us honestly, tell no lie, whether it
is to heaven that we fly, or fall through the
earth, heavy as lead?”
How about Bach? Ah, Bach I put on when a
languishing day needs to get back on track. The
sounds sweep you along to deeper layers of
consciousness. Where even lucid thinking fails,
Bach can sneak in unseen and open doors.
What about jazz? Jazz is for the sorely needed
profundity. The literary brother in music. The
counterpart of the carnaval song. That literary
little brother. The smartest kid in the class.
If jazz is male, that is. I don’t know. It could
also be a beautiful, intellectual woman. Like
Roos Jonker, paragon of an excellent, up and
coming, beautiful plus smart jazz singer!
The sun is shining meanwhile, and the day ends
like a day should end. With a watery spring sun,
loud jazz and a glass of cool white wine.
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Written on 8 February 2011 |
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