This city sounds like a full song of Bloc Party sometimes. Maybe it's because they already have more than a couple of songs about Berlin :o) But apart from those songs dedicated to Berlin, the city makes me feel that I'm already a part of their songs – with its lyrics and notes. Sometimes when my IPod's battery is dead, I inevitably hear the city – not the people around – U-Bahn, S-Bahn, buses, and of course sirens. People – except nuts – are relatively silent here. I mean, they talk but can't be heard, and I don't know whether it is because of the acoustic of the city in general or the characteristic of the language/society. I think my brain has an attempt to protect me from that unbearable silence and makes me hear theme songs if I don't have a physical access to music. In such moments, the theme songs have usually been some tracks from Bloc Party. OK, I should admit that these songs are from the album A Weekend In the City; so, it's pretty understandable why I ever chose them for Berlin. But, it's not only lyrics. I hear Bloc Party when I listen to Berlin (Istanbul'u dinliyorum gözlerim kapalı :P). Friedrichstrasse, Nordbahnhof, Warschauer Strasse, Rosenhalter Platz, Potsdamer Platz and even Bernauer Strasse – each has a specific riff or a full track from the band.
Hochgeladen von Yonafunu.
Sometimes I hear Flaming Lips, JamieT and The Kooks as well, and the last two should, in fact, sound to me of course more England rather than Germany. Similarly, it is also strange that I can't hear Parov Stelar (they have a song named Lost in Amsterdam), or Kings of Convenience at least, as the theme song of Amsterdam. Instead, Phoenix (especially Run Run Run), that hadn’t even have a place in my Holland IPod list, echoes in my ears whenever I think about Amsterdam.
Actually, JamieT gives some courage, or let's say an overplayed confident body language – tough girl with that look saying meddle if you want trouble –, while walking/ riding my bike through Moabit, the neighborhood I'm living in. The Kooks visits my ears generally when I leave the library with a satisfaction due to studying whole day – the girl working on her thesis (as if it will save the world at the end), who has never (even for once) regretted that three years ago she left a man, like whom, she knows, nobody will love her again, is moving in her own way. (Have you ever met with a woman's rationality: leaving the man and having success must always be in tune with each other). And (I'm sorry, maybe some of you will find it blatantly unauthentic), there comes Flaming Lips whenever I hear the sirens of the distance…that bugs me indeed. Still, they become the theme song for those moments, and after the sirens moving away, I declare a short term peace between me and my existentialist concerns.
For each city I visited, I have a special theme song. But Berlin, she deserves more than one. She is the one that has made real most of the songs, bands, and artists I like. While struggling with her (we have a love-hate relationship), or while hiding from her at home, these guys always stand/walk beside me. But not so seriously as you imagine. I mean, I make generally geyik* with them in my head like I do with some dead smart-ass guys (like Foucault). If I run serious talks with them, I would be more depressed. Their duty is to entertain me.
*make geyik: org. “geyik yapmak”. It's a Turkish phrase to define nonsense but funny conversation. In German, there is a word corresponding this action more or less; viz. quatschen. Yet, the nuance is in that “geyik” must be funny, must make a funny sense from nonsense. 'It “requires hell of a wit too!” ' says aysec., while “twisting and turning things” in the meaning of a word or a concept. But what's more funny is that the real meaning of “geyik” is "deer". What a sheer nonsense, isn't it?