The theme song of my spring break went something like: doot doot
dooh… doot dooh doot dooh… doot doot dooh….
Well, you get the idea.
Judging from the profundity of my musical memoirs, you would
expect the fruits of my continental European tour to pathetically
match the over-played and dangerously banal Third Eye Blind ditty.
This is where the mild-mannered reporter turns adventurous
traveler, however, and instills new meaning into the
globetrotter’s companion song aptly titled
“Semi-charmed Life.”
Touring Europe is about more than just early mornings, late
nights and living out of a backpack. It’s about leaving your
comfort zone and all that is familiar (no!), convenient (you learn
to deal), comfortable (I thought this was supposed to be a
holiday), and American (gasp!).
It gets worse. Imagine my surprise when I stepped onto the
Contiki coach that was to take me all around Europe only to find
out that I was the only American out of the 35 tourists on board.
The brochure said: “Holidays for 18-35-year-olds.” It
didn’t mention anything about the company’s Down Under
discount. Besides the overwhelming number of Australians present, I
was also clearly outnumbered by the Kiwis (people from New Zealand)
and Bob and Doug McKenzie (the 2 Canadians).
Well, looking on the bright side, at least they all spoke
English … or some variation of it.
I was about to panic when I heard the soothing voice of Michael
Stipe comforting me from the speakers. This could only mean one of
two things, I thought. Either a) I’ve encountered some
extremely cultured Aussies who study world music and appreciate
REM’s momentous musical contributions or b) I’ve just
entered the Twilight Zone.
It took me about a week to figure out what was really going on.
We’d be driving through Switzerland relaxing to Neil Young or
speeding through Germany head-bopping to Nirvana. Then the elusive
suddenly became so obvious: Let’s hear it for American music
and global imperialism!
Now I’m not just talking about walking into a
McDonald’s in France and ordering a “royale with
cheese.” In reviewing the evidence, the influence of the
American music industry is so prominent, not just on the
Contiki-mobile, but all over Europe. First, there was a bar in the
French Riviera that featured a cover band playing Van Morrison
songs. Then there was the karaoke bar in Florence that boasted of
the B-52’s classic sing-a-long “Love Shack.” And
who could forget the drunken French men at the Beaujolais chateau
who could not speak a word of English but knew all the U2 lyrics to
“Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
All right, so Van Morrison and U2 technically aren’t
American. But where would they be without U.S. free enterprise and
mass consumer culture?
America is definitely not a cultural void. And after being on
the road for about a month, I saw signs of its presence everywhere.
For example, I spent a relaxing evening in front of the television
in Munich expecting to watch MTV in German. Instead, I found a
plethora of American music and an English interview with Gwen
Stefani promoting No Doubt’s
latest single.
Though U.S. music is quite ubiquitous in Europe, it would be
wise to recognize that the meanings attached to American classics
aren’t the same as the messages originally intended for the
text. For example, when I hear the Eagles’ “Hotel
California” I think of home. I don’t know what
Europeans think of, but I’m pretty sure it’s not UCLA.
I also know that as much as we would like to believe that the world
revolves around America, it doesn’t (gasp!). Other countries
might seem like Amero-philes, but their musical interpretations
aren’t governed by U.S. culture. So much for Americanization
and theories of cultural imperialism.
But that’s precisely the beauty of music. No matter how
many people have purchased an album or slow-danced to a certain
ballad, it can still mean something meaningful and unique to you.
Music is all about personal interpretation and the significance
that you attach to it. I think the Kiwis have the right idea
because they’ve apparently adopted Kenny Rogers’
“Gambler” as their national anthem. It’s truly
amazing ““ they’ve never eaten at Kenny Rogers’
Roasters, but they know all the words to his greatest hits.
So there you have it. I have traveled through Europe and
somewhere along the way, I have also left my comfort zone.
Sometimes it takes something as liberating as leaving home and
roving through Corfu in an open-top jeep to “trip on the urge
to feel alive.”
You’re an individual and no one can tell you what to
think. You’re also free to attach your own meaning to
music.
So you can tell me that “Semi-Charmed Life” is
really a tragic song about drugs. But for me, it’s about
mountain biking through the Austrian Tyrol and feeling as if this
whole beautiful wide world was created just for me.
While studying abroad, listening to American music has helped me
feel at home in a foreign country. And when I look back on my
spring break, I think about how Contiki-Europe was my home for four
weeks.
Now as I attempt to return to the mundane student life of essay
deadlines and exams, I feel a new sort of homesickness. I
can’t help but wish I was back on tour, shopping down
romantic boulevards and feasting on exotic cuisine.
So I listen to that Third Eye Blind song and it takes me back to
the excitement of waking up in a different city every morning.
It’s not a magnum opus. It’s not even very poetic. All
I know is that I would rather be anywhere but sitting at my laptop,
(“I believe in the sand beneath my toes…”) and the
music is all I have.
Not even photographs can stimulate the same nostalgic chord in
my mind. “The sky it was gold, it was rose. I was taking sips
of it through my nose. And I wish I could get back
there….”
Music, like traveling, is a state of mind.
“…And the four right chords could make me
cry…”
So when I think, How do I get myself back to that semi-charmed
kind of life? I know it’s all right there in the music.
Whatever helps you conjure up those still frames in your mind.