Saturday, April 01, 2006
III. Rocking in the DK [originally posted Tuesday 18 April 2000]
I had my first taste of Danish rock and roll this past week, and all I can say is that it is both loud and lascivious. I'd gone up to the Studenterhuset looking for a gathering for international students that I'd read about on a bulletin board; never found it, but I did find myself in the midst of a throng of folks who all seemed to be wandering in the same direction, so naturally I followed along, and ended up at something called the "Melodi Gran Prix 2000" -- a contest featuring eight local, amateur acts who were the winners of some earlier, preliminary competitions. Each band played one song, and then between acts the audience was entertained by a kind of campy German oom-pah band who played things like the Spice Girls "Tal mig hvad du vilst, hvad du really, really vilst") and medleys of American television show themes with a characteristically Bavarian beat. It was difficult for me to follow the lyrics (a problem I also often now have with American rock and roll -- what was that fellow Kurt Cobain mumbling about anyway?), but fortunately the choreography left little to the imagination.
First prize went to a band called "Soldaterdammerater" -- two guys dressed in Army uniforms and a couple of female backup singers -- who sang a song about a Danish soldier who apparently really, REALLY missed his girlfriend back home. Second prize went to an appropriately-named band called "Sugar," which featured a female saxophone player and might have passed for a reasonably-tight local dance band in the States, but who were just a little too sweet for my taste. The most talented performer of the evening (IMHO) actually won third prize: a singer named Anne-Marie Østergård who has the look, the pipes, and the stage presence to sign a major studio recording contract tomorrow. She simply oozed charisma, and would make an excellent addition to a band like Pink Martini now that Pepe is doing his bottle-blonde thing. Honorable mention goes to an act called "Sexy Laila & the wonder brazz" -- sort of a one-joke performance whose climax featured some strategically-placed sparklers.. The Danish language, BTW, is lovely when sung. Spoken it might easily be mistaken for mumbled German, but when set to music it sounds enchantingly French.
Saturday I was invited along with some of the other visiting PhD students to the summerhouse of the International Studies coordinator: a delightful little beach cottage located between Frederikshavn and Skagen on the east coast of Jutland. We took a long walk along the beach, and I had my first experience of authentic Danish "hygge," which my dictionary translates as "coziness," but which is basically tipsy Danes sitting around a candlelit table after a terrific meal telling stories and laughing heartily. Definitely an experience I could get used to. The place of hygge in Danish society is actually a little controversial in Denmark now, since the intimacy enjoyed by the in-group can also be viewed as "excluding" various outsiders: Greenlanders, Guest-workers, and third-world political refugees to name a few. As one commentator has put it, "Hygge always has its back turned to the world."
Witnessed my first example of what seemed to me overt racism last week as well, when I saw a bus driver pull away from the curb in rainstorm while a dark-skinned man who had run for the bus pounded at the door. Two days later, in a similar situation when I was the one running for the bus, the same bus driver stopped and opened the door to let me in! As grateful as I was for not having to wait another twenty minutes in the rain, I felt a little guilty for enjoying the privilege of "passing" for Danish simply because of the way I look. But I don't want to sound too critical of the Danes either, especially given America's reputation in this regard). It seems to me that most Danes' hearts are in the right place, but because this traditionally a highly-homogeneous society which is very concerned about maintaining its distinct, cultural identity in the face of things like the European Union, there is a certain lack of perspective and expertise when it comes to dealing with some kinds of diversity issues. It's like there’s a willingness to extend hospitality to anyone who asks for it, provided they are willing to "fit in." But issues like whether Moslems should be allowed to register births and marriages or record deaths at the mosque (or even have a real mosque at all), rather than taking care of this sort of thing through the Folkekirke like the rest of Danish society, remain somewhat contentious.
Palm Sunday I attended services at the Budolfi Domkirke (the medieval cathedral here in Aalborg), where I received communion kneeling between a white-haired Danish woman who must easily have been in her eighties, and an African man wearing a tie and a navy blazer and carrying an English Bible. The lesson was from Mark 14 ("the poor ye shall always have with thee") and even though once again I couldn't understand a word of the sermon, I was easily able to follow the liturgy and was quite inspired by my participation in the service.
Monday I made a day-trip into Copenhagen for the first time for the Queen's 60th birthday, only to discover that I had misunderstood and that it had actually been the day before; probably a good thing too, since I read in the paper on the train back home that 100,000 Danes had shown up at Amalienborg Palace to sing "Happy Birthday" to the Queen. Did get to see the changing of the guard though, and took a brisk walking tour through the center of town out to the statue of the LIttle Mermaid, and then over to the Unitarian Church. Decided to head home a little early when it started spitting rain, so my climb to the top of the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke and an exploration of Christianshavn will have to wait another day.
The train ride between Aalborg and Copenhagen is about four and a half hours, but the time goes very quickly, and the trains run approximately hourly from around five in the morning until eight at night. There is also a train that leaves Copenhagen after midnight and arrives back in Aalborg at five am, which would make for a very long day indeed. As it was, I got back to Aalborg about 8:30 pm after having taken the 6 am train in that morning, and found that it was plenty.
I'm planning to go back to the city again this weekend anyway to spend Easter with the Danish Unitarians, so it's not as if I'm not going to have plenty more opportunities to explore. Classes at Aalborg University don't meet the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, and the Monday after Easter is a holiday as well, so I may make a few additional excursions this week as well. Or maybe not. I really walked myself silly yesterday, and I've been feeling it a little in my legs this morning. I may be feeling young at heart, but my knees are still pretty high-mileage!.............twj
I had my first taste of Danish rock and roll this past week, and all I can say is that it is both loud and lascivious. I'd gone up to the Studenterhuset looking for a gathering for international students that I'd read about on a bulletin board; never found it, but I did find myself in the midst of a throng of folks who all seemed to be wandering in the same direction, so naturally I followed along, and ended up at something called the "Melodi Gran Prix 2000" -- a contest featuring eight local, amateur acts who were the winners of some earlier, preliminary competitions. Each band played one song, and then between acts the audience was entertained by a kind of campy German oom-pah band who played things like the Spice Girls "Tal mig hvad du vilst, hvad du really, really vilst") and medleys of American television show themes with a characteristically Bavarian beat. It was difficult for me to follow the lyrics (a problem I also often now have with American rock and roll -- what was that fellow Kurt Cobain mumbling about anyway?), but fortunately the choreography left little to the imagination.
First prize went to a band called "Soldaterdammerater" -- two guys dressed in Army uniforms and a couple of female backup singers -- who sang a song about a Danish soldier who apparently really, REALLY missed his girlfriend back home. Second prize went to an appropriately-named band called "Sugar," which featured a female saxophone player and might have passed for a reasonably-tight local dance band in the States, but who were just a little too sweet for my taste. The most talented performer of the evening (IMHO) actually won third prize: a singer named Anne-Marie Østergård who has the look, the pipes, and the stage presence to sign a major studio recording contract tomorrow. She simply oozed charisma, and would make an excellent addition to a band like Pink Martini now that Pepe is doing his bottle-blonde thing. Honorable mention goes to an act called "Sexy Laila & the wonder brazz" -- sort of a one-joke performance whose climax featured some strategically-placed sparklers.. The Danish language, BTW, is lovely when sung. Spoken it might easily be mistaken for mumbled German, but when set to music it sounds enchantingly French.
Saturday I was invited along with some of the other visiting PhD students to the summerhouse of the International Studies coordinator: a delightful little beach cottage located between Frederikshavn and Skagen on the east coast of Jutland. We took a long walk along the beach, and I had my first experience of authentic Danish "hygge," which my dictionary translates as "coziness," but which is basically tipsy Danes sitting around a candlelit table after a terrific meal telling stories and laughing heartily. Definitely an experience I could get used to. The place of hygge in Danish society is actually a little controversial in Denmark now, since the intimacy enjoyed by the in-group can also be viewed as "excluding" various outsiders: Greenlanders, Guest-workers, and third-world political refugees to name a few. As one commentator has put it, "Hygge always has its back turned to the world."
Witnessed my first example of what seemed to me overt racism last week as well, when I saw a bus driver pull away from the curb in rainstorm while a dark-skinned man who had run for the bus pounded at the door. Two days later, in a similar situation when I was the one running for the bus, the same bus driver stopped and opened the door to let me in! As grateful as I was for not having to wait another twenty minutes in the rain, I felt a little guilty for enjoying the privilege of "passing" for Danish simply because of the way I look. But I don't want to sound too critical of the Danes either, especially given America's reputation in this regard). It seems to me that most Danes' hearts are in the right place, but because this traditionally a highly-homogeneous society which is very concerned about maintaining its distinct, cultural identity in the face of things like the European Union, there is a certain lack of perspective and expertise when it comes to dealing with some kinds of diversity issues. It's like there’s a willingness to extend hospitality to anyone who asks for it, provided they are willing to "fit in." But issues like whether Moslems should be allowed to register births and marriages or record deaths at the mosque (or even have a real mosque at all), rather than taking care of this sort of thing through the Folkekirke like the rest of Danish society, remain somewhat contentious.
Palm Sunday I attended services at the Budolfi Domkirke (the medieval cathedral here in Aalborg), where I received communion kneeling between a white-haired Danish woman who must easily have been in her eighties, and an African man wearing a tie and a navy blazer and carrying an English Bible. The lesson was from Mark 14 ("the poor ye shall always have with thee") and even though once again I couldn't understand a word of the sermon, I was easily able to follow the liturgy and was quite inspired by my participation in the service.
Monday I made a day-trip into Copenhagen for the first time for the Queen's 60th birthday, only to discover that I had misunderstood and that it had actually been the day before; probably a good thing too, since I read in the paper on the train back home that 100,000 Danes had shown up at Amalienborg Palace to sing "Happy Birthday" to the Queen. Did get to see the changing of the guard though, and took a brisk walking tour through the center of town out to the statue of the LIttle Mermaid, and then over to the Unitarian Church. Decided to head home a little early when it started spitting rain, so my climb to the top of the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke and an exploration of Christianshavn will have to wait another day.
The train ride between Aalborg and Copenhagen is about four and a half hours, but the time goes very quickly, and the trains run approximately hourly from around five in the morning until eight at night. There is also a train that leaves Copenhagen after midnight and arrives back in Aalborg at five am, which would make for a very long day indeed. As it was, I got back to Aalborg about 8:30 pm after having taken the 6 am train in that morning, and found that it was plenty.
I'm planning to go back to the city again this weekend anyway to spend Easter with the Danish Unitarians, so it's not as if I'm not going to have plenty more opportunities to explore. Classes at Aalborg University don't meet the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, and the Monday after Easter is a holiday as well, so I may make a few additional excursions this week as well. Or maybe not. I really walked myself silly yesterday, and I've been feeling it a little in my legs this morning. I may be feeling young at heart, but my knees are still pretty high-mileage!.............twj
# posted by The Eclectic Cleric @ 9:13 PM 
