It started at Oktoberfest. French people I had talked about Oktoberfest with told me that Germans spoke better English than Americans, so I thought that’d be true. WRONG. Everything was in German, even at the train station and at the metro and the signs for everything. It was a huge culture shock and my shoddy scribbled list of German phrases did nothing, even when I showed it to the Germans sitting next to me and asked for pronunciation help. By that point, I had pretty much resigned myself to walking around Munich completely oblivious until …
The beer hall we were in had a traditional German band that played the White Stripe’s “Seven Nation Army” like every ten minutes. Seriously. Every ten minutes.
And the 10,000 people in the beer hall knew the iconic “DUH… duh-duh-duh-duh DUH… DUH” part just enough to repeat it OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAMN TIME. With the same amount of people standing up or raising their liters of beer at the end of the song.
I didn’t know if it was because they were hammered or because it was such a great song.
“Why is this song so popular?” I asked the German guy next to me.
“I don’t know. But do you like it?”
“Yes! It’s the White Stripes!” I said. Le duh!
“White Stripes!” he repeated, matching my enthusiasm in such a way I didn’t know if he was mocking me or being sincere.
“Yeah,” I said, apprehensively. “And this is ‘Seven Nation Army!’”
“White Stripes!” he repeated again.
“Um, yeah … is this song a soccer thing… or, I mean, football?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if he knew the White Stripes or just knew that I knew the White Stripes.
“I don’t know. But everyone knows this song.”
“Pretty sure it’s a soccer thing. I mean, football,” I sighed into my beer.
It totally was a soccer thing. It’d play on the TV when the French soccer team was discussed on the French news program. It’d play in Irish bars (or be sung by Irish people in Irish bars) when soccer games were on.
But then, it’d play during the first house party my host sister threw and I watched drunk French twentysomethings dance to it. It’d play at a French bar and people would drum their fingers on the counter in time with the music.
And no matter where it was played, EVERYONE knew the guitar part.
It made me wonder if everyone knew if the White Stripes had broken up this year.