Deutchland, Deutchland: Bring Der Funk!

GERMANY — Most Germans I meet in Berlin seem to posses an amazing grasp of the English language, the best example of which is in the ubiquitous German Internet Cafe. You ask, "may I pay" in German, and the professional translator cum bar maid answers, "One Half Hour. Zwolf Mark. Twelve," and scowls in conformance with the German Customer Service Laws of 1754, at which point there can be no question: Germans are great with English.

Perhaps this is not just another case of a cultural inferiority complex interfering with my judgment. Germans have taken English language classes since junior high, many spend a year in an English-speaking country, and texts in medical, political and economic disciplines are commonly written in English, then left untranslated-even if the author is German.

Then again, most Germans I meet are students. When the University years are over, English may become more of an exotic luxury, useful for dealing with tourists at home, going on vacation abroad, and in its most stimulating (?) application, enjoying English-language media. Although the vast majority of television and film is dubbed into German, English-language music reigns absolutely supreme. This is unfortunate, because between America and Germany, something gets lost in the translation — even when no translation is involved.

Here in Berlin, stations compete to offer the "most hits" from easy-listening gurus Rod Stewart, John Denver and Bette Midler, while chiding each other for playing "tired" German-language songs. Even Rammstein, the first German group to make it in America in recent memory, receives no mention on the airwaves. No, I am not a fan of American radio. I especially hate the dreaded "dentist chair" stations, the stations that play the worst music and are heard when one has no choice but to listen, such as when one has their teeth cleaned. However, when American music is taken out of its native context and put on the German airwaves, dentist chair music becomes "classic rock," Michael Jackson becomes "dangerous" and the Twelve Song Alternative stations become truly AM "underground."

So I'm at this party, and these three German women are dying to know if I have the latest Matchbox 20 album; they simply can't find it anywhere. Or I'm at a German birthday party. The birthday boy, turning 26, had spent a year in Ohio. His gift was introduced as "some real American music." The music was the "new" Hootie and the Blowfish. Or my drunk hallmate, the one with Rolling Stones and Megadeath posters stuck side-by-side on his wall, gushes about the "sort of punk, sort of heavy rock" band he heard the night before -they played "lots of Phil Collins."

There seems to be a rule in the German music scene, and it is anything but unwritten: if you want to get big, you have to play pop, and sing in English. Berlin deserves its reputation for a diverse music scene, but if rock, pop, techno, blues, irish, funk, or reggae is what you crave, prepare for Germans singing in (usually) fractured English.

On any given weekend night, German groups listed in a scene guide include "Godzilla" (Irish), "The Jivin Jewels" (Swing), "Silent Noize" (BritPop), and "Jelly Soul" (Jazz). Flip to the "musicians wanted" section, and one can actually witness would-be German bands struggling with their would-be American genre. Like this one: "Drummer searching for Guitar, Bass, Keyboardist and Vocalist for groovy funk (Rush, Peter Gabriel)..." Or stranger still: "Groove Musicians wanted for 'Unplugged Duo Orchid Leaves' (self-arrangements, English songs)."

When the Germans go retro, the results are still more confounding. Current ads at subway stations promise a "Christmas jubilee" of "The Greatest German Country-Western Songs," such as "Old Kentucky Home" and "High On A Hilltop." The bands pictured in the ad, with names like "Hans Schmidt and the Cowboy Seven," feature Aryan men in costumes right out of the Three Amigos, or worse, a Chi-Chis restaurant, posing next to the obligatory plastic cacti. Unfortunately for Hans Schmidt fans, the ads have recently been altered with an addendum: the arena-sized venue has been sold out.

No need to despair: there are still plenty of seats left for the latest craze on the Berlin revue scene, "Yesterday: The Beat Revue." Take two steps in any given direction, and you will be confronted with an ad for this performance of "the greatest hits of the sixties." When the revue debuted in Hamburg, the city's morning daily lauded it as music from, "My Generation! The rulers of my progressive age sing on command. A breath from Woodstock blows through the theater..." Here are the musicians receiving top billing (see photo): Taco, Susi Frese, Olaf Meyer, and G. Harrison (no, "G" is short for Geff). Here is a sampling of the songs featured: "Mr. Tambourinman (sic)," "When A Man Loves A Woman," "Barbara Ann," "Me and Bobby McGee."

— Adam Lazar