by Pat
A warning to readers: the following column contains extremely high levels of European. Prolonged exposure may result in distaste for Americans and a tendency to treat all beaches as nude beaches. If you become dizzy, disoriented, or supportive of universal healthcare while reading, please refer to this video.
The Meme:
The 2003 song "Dragostea Din Tei" by Moldovan pop group O-Zone.
Where You Might Have Seen It:
In December 2004, a nineteen-year-old New Jersey man named Gary Brolsma posted a 100-second video on Newgrounds.com and changed the world forever.
The concept of "going viral" on the internet has been devalued significantly since the rise of social media, to the point where a lot of people see it as viable career option. But in 2004, the public at-large could barely contemplate such a thing. "Numa Numa" spread so fast and so hard it became a news story. Within two years, the video had been viewed approximately 700 million times. If those seem like rookie numbers, keep in mind that YouTube wasn't officially launched until the end of 2005, and Facebook wasn't open to the general public until 2006. For most of those two years, people were emailing the video to each other. I'm sure at least a few people mailed a floppy disc to their relatives.
In the wake of this tsu-Numa-Numa-nami, Brolsma embraced the spotlight, then shunned it, then re-embraced it. Now in his late 30s, he works as a web designer and part-time musician. His viral performance has been memorialized not just on the internet, but throughout pop culture, from South Park, to Fortnite, to that dancing penguin movie written, directed, and produced by the genius behind Fury Road. Having watched the video several times in the last few days, I will go on record to say that Brolsma absolutely crushed that lip sync. Lip syncing is hard, but lip syncing phonetically in a language you don't speak is a Herculean effort. Brolsma should be a guest judge on RuPaul's Drag Race.
As for the song itself, "Dragostea Din Tei" has enjoyed two decades of relevance through various samples and remixes. The most prominent I can think of is 2008's "Live Your Life" by T.I. featuring Rihanna, but feel free to sound off in the comments.
The Message:
"Dance, motherfuckers! Let the music flow through you! I don't care what it means!"
The Source:
Before we get started, I think it would be helpful to dig into some background.
Moldova is a country in Eastern Europe, located between Romania and Ukraine. It has a population of approximately 2.5 million, and the primary language is Romanian. As a particularly ugly American, I only think about Moldova once or twice a year, and strictly in the context of memes. Besides "Numa Numa," we have Moldova to thank for Sergey Stepanov, a.k.a. "Epic Sax Guy."
Delightful. Anyway, the electronic dance group O-Zone formed in Chișinău in the late 1990s. By 2004, the group consisted of Dan Bălan (the Brains), Arsenie Todiraș (the Looks), and Radu Sîrbu (the Radu). That year, they would release their third and final self-produced album, DiscO-Zone. DiscO-Zone would go on to sell about one million copies worldwide, with exceptional performances in Japan, Portugal, Belgium, and France.
For today's column, I listened to the version of DiscO-Zone released in the U.S. in 2004. It's eleven songs and 40ish minutes of early-aughts Eurodance. I do not speak Romanian, so most of my analysis relied on the Very Idiosyncratic Baseline Exploratory Standards, or "VIBES" system.
DiscO-Zone definitely sounds like a self-produced album, and I don't mean that as a snipe. DiscO-Zone's sound varies a lot over the course of 40 minutes, in a way that suggests O-Zone was more interested in experimenting with their craft than producing a single, cohesive (commercially successful) product. During my listen, I heard combinations of horns and drums ("Fiesta de la noche"), bass and bird calls ("De ce plâng chitarele"), piano and electric guitar ("Printre nori"), and synthesizers and human whistles ("Sărbătoarea nopților de vară"). Even if I don't always like the end result, I can at least respect the boldness of the choice. O-Zone was really swinging for the fences when they made this.
Having listened to all of it, I can say definitively that "Dragostea Din Tei" is the best song on the album. It's fun, it's danceable, and it has the best vocals, rhyme scheme, and rhythm. Based on VIBES alone, the rest of the tracks can be divided into two camps: dance songs and sad songs. Of these two, I favor the dance songs. The Spanish-inspired "Fiesta de la noche" sounded like an early draft of "Danza Kuduro," and definitely got me to bop my head a little bit. "Crede-mă" got me to chuckle, but only because it has one of those dramatic spoken word sections that European club music is notorious for. "Despre tine" is my second favorite song on the album. Admittedly, it sounds very similar to "Dragostea Din Tei," but the music video is fantastic. It shows a party out of time: the aviators and plaid bell bottoms say 1970s, but the endless Kangol hats scream early 2000s. It's like the Iron Curtain fell and Moldova decided to try the last 40 years of American fashion all at once.
Most of the remaining songs on the album fall into the category of songs that sound sad, or "sad songs" for short. There's sad violin ("Oriunde ai fi"), sad synth beats ("Dar, unde ești?"), and sad, funky bass guitar ("De ce plâng chitarele"). For guys with spiky hair and deep V-shirts, O-Zone can be awfully dour. I'd compare it to getting invited to the club by your friend, but once you're there, all he wants to do is cry into his beer and talk about how Amanda left. In fairness, I did enjoy "Nu mă las de limba noastră...," which apes the style of a Spanish love song by abandoning the synth in favor of simple guitar riffs and maracas. It's a tribute to their native language, Romanian. In a world where English equals marketability, I'll give credit to O-Zone for sticking to their traditional tongue.
Overall, I'd say DiscO-Zone is an average indie pop album with a few danceable highlights. But even after listening to the whole thing, there's still lingering curiosity about why "Dragostea Din Tei" went global. It really seems like O-Zone captured lightning in a bottle with that one, and I'm still not sure how. Maybe I'll find a clue if the lyrics were written in plain English.
I don't know what I was expecting. I wonder if Moldovan people run into the same problem when they're trying to analyze Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics. A translation of the chorus yielded a more interesting result.
The ol' stealth sad song. You sons of bitches, good show! "Dragostea Din Tei" is about the loss of love, not partying hard. I don't know that this explains the appeal, but it gives me more appreciation for O-Zone's lyrical prowess. Apparently, linden trees are traditionally associated with love and fidelity in Eastern Europe, so that's a fun little poetic reference. Linden trees also may or may not smell like cum when they bloom. I was cursed with this information, and now you are too.
All this talk about horny trees has got me wondering: how did Gary Brolsma find "Dragostea Din Tei" in the first place? Was our Patient Zero a connoisseur of European dance tracks? As it turns out, the answer is pretty mundane:
Brolsma found it the same we the rest of us did: seeing a funny video online. Does this mean there's a guy in Japan with extensive knowledge of hot Moldovan beats? Should I book a ticket to Kyoto to investigate further? As I grappled with the logic of the "Numa Numa" meme, I realized that I'm analyzing the phenomenon backwards. It didn't spread because it's notable. It's notable because it spread.
Good memes are organic. People as a whole will accept and spread memes they like (i.e. "Barbenheimer"), but tend to reject and ignore memes that are being pushed (i.e. Exorswift). People, myself included, also have a tendency to ascribe meaning to seemingly important events and trends. This leaves me grappling with why the "Numa Numa" meme took off and looking for a clear, reasonable explanation for its success.
But these are memes, man. Memes are shared for several reasons, a large one being because people like them, and there's nothing logical about personal taste. "Numa Numa" spread because enough people thought the video was funny, and it stayed because enough people thought the song was catchy. "Dragostea Din Tei" was never destined for success. It just happened to be in the right place at the right time: in a short, silly video right as the Internet was starting to become a part of the average person's daily life. As a result of being one of the first pieces of media to spread in an environment specifically designed to spread information, we all have it stuck in our heads twenty years later.
A warning to readers: the following column contains extremely high levels of European. Prolonged exposure may result in distaste for Americans and a tendency to treat all beaches as nude beaches. If you become dizzy, disoriented, or supportive of universal healthcare while reading, please refer to this video.
The Meme:
The 2003 song "Dragostea Din Tei" by Moldovan pop group O-Zone.
Where You Might Have Seen It:
In December 2004, a nineteen-year-old New Jersey man named Gary Brolsma posted a 100-second video on Newgrounds.com and changed the world forever.
The concept of "going viral" on the internet has been devalued significantly since the rise of social media, to the point where a lot of people see it as viable career option. But in 2004, the public at-large could barely contemplate such a thing. "Numa Numa" spread so fast and so hard it became a news story. Within two years, the video had been viewed approximately 700 million times. If those seem like rookie numbers, keep in mind that YouTube wasn't officially launched until the end of 2005, and Facebook wasn't open to the general public until 2006. For most of those two years, people were emailing the video to each other. I'm sure at least a few people mailed a floppy disc to their relatives.
In the wake of this tsu-Numa-Numa-nami, Brolsma embraced the spotlight, then shunned it, then re-embraced it. Now in his late 30s, he works as a web designer and part-time musician. His viral performance has been memorialized not just on the internet, but throughout pop culture, from South Park, to Fortnite, to that dancing penguin movie written, directed, and produced by the genius behind Fury Road. Having watched the video several times in the last few days, I will go on record to say that Brolsma absolutely crushed that lip sync. Lip syncing is hard, but lip syncing phonetically in a language you don't speak is a Herculean effort. Brolsma should be a guest judge on RuPaul's Drag Race.
As for the song itself, "Dragostea Din Tei" has enjoyed two decades of relevance through various samples and remixes. The most prominent I can think of is 2008's "Live Your Life" by T.I. featuring Rihanna, but feel free to sound off in the comments.
The Message:
"Dance, motherfuckers! Let the music flow through you! I don't care what it means!"
The Source:
Before we get started, I think it would be helpful to dig into some background.
Moldova is a country in Eastern Europe, located between Romania and Ukraine. It has a population of approximately 2.5 million, and the primary language is Romanian. As a particularly ugly American, I only think about Moldova once or twice a year, and strictly in the context of memes. Besides "Numa Numa," we have Moldova to thank for Sergey Stepanov, a.k.a. "Epic Sax Guy."
Delightful. Anyway, the electronic dance group O-Zone formed in Chișinău in the late 1990s. By 2004, the group consisted of Dan Bălan (the Brains), Arsenie Todiraș (the Looks), and Radu Sîrbu (the Radu). That year, they would release their third and final self-produced album, DiscO-Zone. DiscO-Zone would go on to sell about one million copies worldwide, with exceptional performances in Japan, Portugal, Belgium, and France.
For today's column, I listened to the version of DiscO-Zone released in the U.S. in 2004. It's eleven songs and 40ish minutes of early-aughts Eurodance. I do not speak Romanian, so most of my analysis relied on the Very Idiosyncratic Baseline Exploratory Standards, or "VIBES" system.
DiscO-Zone definitely sounds like a self-produced album, and I don't mean that as a snipe. DiscO-Zone's sound varies a lot over the course of 40 minutes, in a way that suggests O-Zone was more interested in experimenting with their craft than producing a single, cohesive (commercially successful) product. During my listen, I heard combinations of horns and drums ("Fiesta de la noche"), bass and bird calls ("De ce plâng chitarele"), piano and electric guitar ("Printre nori"), and synthesizers and human whistles ("Sărbătoarea nopților de vară"). Even if I don't always like the end result, I can at least respect the boldness of the choice. O-Zone was really swinging for the fences when they made this.
Having listened to all of it, I can say definitively that "Dragostea Din Tei" is the best song on the album. It's fun, it's danceable, and it has the best vocals, rhyme scheme, and rhythm. Based on VIBES alone, the rest of the tracks can be divided into two camps: dance songs and sad songs. Of these two, I favor the dance songs. The Spanish-inspired "Fiesta de la noche" sounded like an early draft of "Danza Kuduro," and definitely got me to bop my head a little bit. "Crede-mă" got me to chuckle, but only because it has one of those dramatic spoken word sections that European club music is notorious for. "Despre tine" is my second favorite song on the album. Admittedly, it sounds very similar to "Dragostea Din Tei," but the music video is fantastic. It shows a party out of time: the aviators and plaid bell bottoms say 1970s, but the endless Kangol hats scream early 2000s. It's like the Iron Curtain fell and Moldova decided to try the last 40 years of American fashion all at once.
Most of the remaining songs on the album fall into the category of songs that sound sad, or "sad songs" for short. There's sad violin ("Oriunde ai fi"), sad synth beats ("Dar, unde ești?"), and sad, funky bass guitar ("De ce plâng chitarele"). For guys with spiky hair and deep V-shirts, O-Zone can be awfully dour. I'd compare it to getting invited to the club by your friend, but once you're there, all he wants to do is cry into his beer and talk about how Amanda left. In fairness, I did enjoy "Nu mă las de limba noastră...," which apes the style of a Spanish love song by abandoning the synth in favor of simple guitar riffs and maracas. It's a tribute to their native language, Romanian. In a world where English equals marketability, I'll give credit to O-Zone for sticking to their traditional tongue.
Overall, I'd say DiscO-Zone is an average indie pop album with a few danceable highlights. But even after listening to the whole thing, there's still lingering curiosity about why "Dragostea Din Tei" went global. It really seems like O-Zone captured lightning in a bottle with that one, and I'm still not sure how. Maybe I'll find a clue if the lyrics were written in plain English.
I don't know what I was expecting. I wonder if Moldovan people run into the same problem when they're trying to analyze Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics. A translation of the chorus yielded a more interesting result.
The ol' stealth sad song. You sons of bitches, good show! "Dragostea Din Tei" is about the loss of love, not partying hard. I don't know that this explains the appeal, but it gives me more appreciation for O-Zone's lyrical prowess. Apparently, linden trees are traditionally associated with love and fidelity in Eastern Europe, so that's a fun little poetic reference. Linden trees also may or may not smell like cum when they bloom. I was cursed with this information, and now you are too.
All this talk about horny trees has got me wondering: how did Gary Brolsma find "Dragostea Din Tei" in the first place? Was our Patient Zero a connoisseur of European dance tracks? As it turns out, the answer is pretty mundane:
Brolsma found it the same we the rest of us did: seeing a funny video online. Does this mean there's a guy in Japan with extensive knowledge of hot Moldovan beats? Should I book a ticket to Kyoto to investigate further? As I grappled with the logic of the "Numa Numa" meme, I realized that I'm analyzing the phenomenon backwards. It didn't spread because it's notable. It's notable because it spread.
Good memes are organic. People as a whole will accept and spread memes they like (i.e. "Barbenheimer"), but tend to reject and ignore memes that are being pushed (i.e. Exorswift). People, myself included, also have a tendency to ascribe meaning to seemingly important events and trends. This leaves me grappling with why the "Numa Numa" meme took off and looking for a clear, reasonable explanation for its success.
But these are memes, man. Memes are shared for several reasons, a large one being because people like them, and there's nothing logical about personal taste. "Numa Numa" spread because enough people thought the video was funny, and it stayed because enough people thought the song was catchy. "Dragostea Din Tei" was never destined for success. It just happened to be in the right place at the right time: in a short, silly video right as the Internet was starting to become a part of the average person's daily life. As a result of being one of the first pieces of media to spread in an environment specifically designed to spread information, we all have it stuck in our heads twenty years later.
Next week: Oh no, Pat is tracing the history of that "Oh no" song on TikTok.
2 comments:
I remember seeing the "Pork and Beans" video from Weezer and not knowing what the fuck any of the people in it were from. I guess they are all memes from the '00s. So now I know the Numa Numa guy. I wonder how many other references I'll get by the time you're done this project.
T.I. is a rapist but damn, that song is so good in The Mitchells Vs. the Machines.
These posts are packed. Came to learn about Numa, left learning Mad George Miller is also the producer/writer/director of several of my favorite children's films.
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