I've never been good at popular culture. Maggie has a penchant for those gossip magazines; the sort that mix the "Mother's anguish for teenage son" with how Rihanna had taken to carrying a turnip around as a talisman. I can never fathom how she remembers all the names let alone recognises the same person in photos that look as alike as chalk and cheese to me.
A few years ago we went to a music festival in Benicassim. As with all festivals I'd gone primarily to sample the vegetable noodles. I did have a passing interest in the music with the thought of seeing old timers before they died and newcomers who may one day be famous. The Ting Tings and Leonard Cohen as I remember. As we wandered around the site we came across some bloke playing Flamenco music on one of the stages. It was good. The crowd was sizeable but there was none of that fighting crush you get with the headline acts so we stayed a while. The singer turned out to be Enrique Morente. I was impressed enough to buy some of his music later but it was only when he died, and the eulogies poured in, that we realised just what an influential and admired character he'd been in Spain.
I was talking to one of my students the other day about Flamenco. Now there are some people who like Flamenco in Spain but it's pretty much a minority sport. For one reason or another though Maggie and I have bumped into it a lot. We've been to several Flamenco competitions, seen big name dancers, bought a lot of recorded music and generally chased it down. If I'd put in the same amount of time into jazz or early English madrigals and I'd been having a parallel conversation to the Flamenco one I would have been able to hold up my end of the conversation with no problem. As it was all of the names escaped me, including Morente's first name.
It's the language you see mixed in with a lack of cultural backgound. Tell me that some of the best songs of 2013 were by Jon Hopkins or Speedy Ortiz and I've got a good chance of remembering the names because they make sense in a way that Manel Fuentes or Anne Igartiburu don't. If the music is by old timers like Nick Cave or the Arctic Monkeys it's even easier.
Spaniards, as you might expect, speak Spanish and their lilt, cadence, rhythm and pronunciation of an Anglo name often makes it unintelligible to me. In exactly the same way most Spanish names pass me by as one more of those unknown words in a rapidly delivered sentence. Names are much more difficult to catch than ordinary words because context gives you no clue. Even if I do catch a name I usually need a background explanation as to who they are and why they are well known.
I have never taken to those talent shows on the telly but I couldn't help but be aware of them. What Simon Cowell had said or done or not done or not said. For a while he was everywhere. I recognised his name in both print and speech. If I didn't know the names of the people sitting alongside him I might recognise the name of the group they'd been with or the artists they managed. I had a whole web of background cultural knowledge, built up over the years, to help me. Years and years of television, radio, film, magazine, newspaper and conversations great and small came to my aid with Cheryl and Louis or as I just checked now with Gary and Rita too.
I don't recognise the Spanish telly stars doing the shampoo and insurance adverts because I'm not good at recognising people but also because the background information, right down to their names, is either completely unknown to me or instantly forgettable. It's not that I have any real trouble with Spanish names but they don't lodge in my brain like "English" ones.
I listen to the Spanish news bulletins several times a day but I still stumble over the names of ministers, regional and opposition politicians. Today's scandal has some Senator resigning before they start to ask too many awkward questions about his Swiss bank account. It's a simple name but I wouldn't trust my memory without a quick Google just to check. The Senator was once someone important even though he isn't now. Imagine him as Alastair Campbell. It's a while since he was in the news and he may well have been shelved away at the back of your mind, like his one time boss, but a few clues - you know - Blair's spin doctor - the nasty character in that Helen Mirren film about the Queen and suddenly he's back. But for Francisco Granados there is no background, at least not for me. And I remembered his name as Ricardo Granados before Google News put me right
Comments
Post a Comment