The langauge. Leaving my family, friends and
girlfriend behind. Getting myself involved in drug cartel business. These were
all things that bounced around my head pre-trip. You know those nights where
you lay awake and speculate exactly what lies in wait for you for the next six months.
They’re the ones. Anyway, one thing that definitely did not enter this zone of
precaution was music.
Why
would anyone worry about music? The music is usually not a defining feature of
a place, let alone a country, and is rarely something to use as Trip
Advisor-esque judgment factor. As well of this I class myself as a fairly
flexible music fan. My taste ranges from Drake to Red Hot Chili Peppers and
even stretches to a bit of 1D – I’m an ‘accept all sounds’ kinda guy. I could
cope with everything. That was until this lovely type of music that the South
Americans call ‘Cumbia’ came along and hit me as nicely as a slap in the face.
I
was crammed in the back of a car with 7 other people at 2:30am on a Tuesday
night when the true horror hit. We had been driving around Gualeguay – a small
town – with no particular destination for about 45 minutes and I wasn’t
understanding the conjoined plethora of gossip being shared frantically amongst
my fellow passengers. The only thing I had to listen to was what was blaring
out of the stereo. Cumbia.
Ingredients
1x Europop melody
1x Hollow Hispanics lyrics about partying
and the heart (A delicate blend of Enrique Iglesias and Pitbull)
1x A drop worthy of DJ Snake on Ecstasy
OR
1x The chorus of a perfectly good, popular
song (Often in English)
1x A drop worthy of DJ Snake on Ecstasy
Method
1)
Combine all elements in a
musical blender.
2) Play finished product at an unnecessarily high volume.
2) Play finished product at an unnecessarily high volume.
I don’t really
know what kind of audial idea I’ve just created in your heads, but it’s likely
that I haven’t done its awfulness justice. Even as I write this in the comfort
of my room, with my own (normal) music playing, I can hear rumblings of Cumbia
polluting the air through a car window. This is potentially what makes it worse
– it’s EVERYWHERE. We’re talking the obvious places like nightclubs and bars to
the less obvious like ice-cream shops and the park. With incessant insect-like buzzing
of cars darting through the streets blaring the beats of Cumbia it is
impossible to avoid.
Due to the way
the human brain works this naturally creates a problem. If you hear something
frequently enough, it sticks to your memory like a leech, however bad it is.
This is especially worse when you hear this music under the influence of
alcohol. You associate the sounds with being out and having a good time. This
leads to the humming, the head bopping and even the singing of lyrics (even in
a foreign language). The worst moment is when you even smile at the
introduction of a Cumbia song that you recognise.
I write this
article as if I am as distant from the world of Cumbia as physically possible,
yet instead I am very much encompassed in it. I must add this has happened
through force and not by choice. If you give a dog a food it doesn’t like for a
month, it’ll eventually start eating it and probably start to enjoy it.
It’s not like I haven’t
tried. At a ‘previas’ (pre-drinks) that I went to with some students of mine, I
was handed the aux cable and the musical power was mine. I introduced a couple
of guys to Disclosure and Chase & Status and felt like the Bob Geldof of
music* saving some helpless victims from their plight. Yet even then peer
pressure overcame me and I was soon searching for Cumbia playlists on Spotify…
I
am now a victim of Cumbia, and as hard as it is to admit I think it’s too late
to save me. I still have about 4 months left here and the Cumbia exposure is
only going to continue. When I return home at Christmas I’ll be more
contagiously dangerous that one of those infected in World War Z. Stay away
from it or risk losing your mind.
Saying that I’m gonna leave some tracks
below for you to have a listen, enjoy.
Era Tranquila Marama- DJ Sacha (One for you Mum)
Thanks for reading!
*I do realise Bob Geldof was originally a
singer and is therefore theoretically the actual Bob Geldof of music…
I know this is completely uncool but I kinda liked the first one!
ReplyDeleteI couldn't agree more with you. This "cumbia" thing because it cannot be regarded as music is killing our brains. The problem is, as you said, that music stick to your memory like a leech, and then you start singing!
ReplyDeleteReally nice blog!