Anthropological studies have often been based on song texts. In keeping with this scientific tradition, I present to you
The Austrian soul laid bare: Lyrics to aprés ski songs
Correct – nothing is more suited to an anthropological study of the Austrians than the tunes they belt out in their ski huts and their village discos. And nothing is more deserving of an Adults-Only rating.
Why? Because most songs are built around a chorus which alludes to at least one of the following:
The recipe involves a dash of reproductive organs, a nod and a wink to the horizontal mambo, smothered in lots and lots of innuendo.
Let’s take a humble cover song, for example. Roland Kaiser wrote ‘Joana’ in 1997, a hymn to love at first sight. An average one, let’s be honest. To wit:
Joana, born to love/ to live forbidden dreams
Your glance hit me like a stab to the heart/ I knew there was no going back
Your wishes met mine, it made me bashful/ something I thought I’d never feel again.
So far, so bland.
Fast forward to 2008, and a guy called Peter Wackel inserts a few extra lines here and there, and rockets to the top of the german-speaking charts in the process.
May 2008: I nearly have a heart attack the first time the song is played at the local bar, and the ENTIRE ROOM sings the following:
YOU HORNY BITCH
born to give love
to live forbidden dreams
YOU HOT PIECE OF ARSE
I am talking EVERYONE, singing at the tops of their austrian lungs, from village mums to eleven year-old boys who weren’t even alive when the original was released.
Let us recover from our collective shock and move on to an examination of the song entitled ‘twenty centimetres’. We’re not talking the length of a tomato stake here.
That’s not 20cm, not on your life, little peter
In reality, 20cm is far bigger
You can forget it
you’ve obviously screwed up the measurements
keep it short and sweet
Looking at that little thing, I’m outta here
That ain’t 20cm, not now and not later.
Short and spicy it may be
But I like it long and thick
you got a raw deal, it you can forget flirting with me
17 are alright
18 don’t hurt
19 are nice
20 when they stand to attention.
For a ditty to qualify as ‘innuendo’, I would think it would have to at least contain some subtlety?
Bringing up the rear, so to speak, is an oompa-pah plea to ‘little’ Liese, which could, at a stretch, be described as a vulgar chalet version of Donne’s ‘The Flea’.
Little Liese, Liese, Liese
Come for a little bit
to the lawn
where you can blow me one
just like before, before, before,
only this time with a little rubber cap
no shirt and no panties
To round off today’s offering, a track that proves that alpine music is nothing if not inclusive. Even your humble hairdresser fetishist is catered to:
Ten naked Hairdressers
There are 100,000 women/ whom you would not put anything past,
I say no
There are 50,000 women/ with immaculate torsos,
I say no
I want ten naked hairdressers
ten naked hairdressers
ten naked hairdressers
with really wet hair
And the only tune the Aussies are known for is that lame ‘Men At Work’ song that says something about a vegemite sandwich…