blatantly bad 70s songs: eres tu (mocedades)
it is who?
in 1973, the magical kingdom of spain hit second place in the annual crappiest song in the world contest eurovision contest with basque group mocedades and the song eres tu. (apologies; i haven’t yet figured out how to type accents. somewhere, my spanish-speaking college roommate is wagging her finger at me. somewhere, my old AOL localization folks are throwing dung my way.)
what the hell is the song about? some brilliant english scholars translated this as touch the wind, which mystifies little old, literal me. i may have muddled my way through the Zayres near Little Havana circa 1984 looking for a flea bomb (thanks to a girl in my dorm who brought in a stray cat), only to be greeted by employees who only spoke spanish (and to whom i only became understood once i said, and i quote: por matar los insectos — insectos, which may not even be a spanish word, i suspect) and who didn’t understand my initial query: como se dice Raid?;my daughter, a product of three years at a spanish immersion elementary school, may still be wildly embarrased by my american accent when i attempt to pronounce terms. but !caramba! i know eres tu is not about wind, unless someone is pointing a finger and implicating someone who recently tooted.
i especially loved learning about other translations of the song:
The song was re-released in English as “Touch The Wind” in later years. It was subsequently released in German: Das bist Du (“You are that…”), French: C’est pour toi (“It is for you…”), Italian: Viva noi (“Long live us”), and Basque: Zu zara (“You are…”).
it’s like an odd game of telephone.
any song entered into the annual eurovision contest is usually not something i want forcefed into my ears. i don’t know what the hell happens in the world each year when the worst in music somehow rises to the top of the eurovision experience. surely, all the best in music cannot be centered here in the US of A, right? luckily, we in america are often shielded from that. sadly, eres tu broke through that happy little iron curtain — i blame francisco franco, who was not yet still dead at that juncture, not sure — and became a hit in america.
and it has been haunting elevators ever since.