Estonia's mysterious German/Swiss ninja turtles
Vanilla Ninja. Traces of sadness. BROS (Sony Music) 517386 2, 2004. 58:07
Stereotypes. You know, the ones so glibly used to describe people, predict social behaviour from shopping to voting. (You drive imported or a SUV, go to Starbucks, and listen to classical or classic rock on the drive over - you voted for Kerry. You drive Murrican, buy Folger's from Wal-Mart, and have all your radio buttons set to country - you voted for Bush.) We all fall victim to this convenient way to group people in our own way, one of which is seen in an unwillingness to reprogram your radio, another by voting party lines, although that other flip-floppin' feller sure seems smart.
The thing about stereotypes is that we they tend to reinforce rather than dispel impressions that others have of us. Categorization is not just a teenage badge of honour, but applies to many who claim to be open-minded. The slender one admits to having developed a few musical prejudices based on some stereotypes. Justified more often than not, by the fact that some popular musical categories do not deserve to be called music. It is baffling, using the most obvious examples, to understand the appeal of hiphop, techno and rap, as musically they are little removed from the era of Neanderthal self-expression. The often racist, misogynistic or just plain hateful lyrics are more reason to avoid this noise.
Noise can be in your face, offensive, or more insidious. Some popular music is couched in bright colours, perky smiles, skimpy costumes and giddy dance steps, often obscuring the fact that there is little musical talent behind the glittering shell. That's how most chick bands have struck me, and why I rarely give them more than a passing listen. Chick bands take a formula and run with it, the Spice Girls are perhaps the most obvious example of how marketing and a catchy riff or two can catch the world's ear, if only for a brief while. Imitation being the most sincere form of marketing success, others have followed.
Among them are Vanilla Ninja, "4 Ninja Turtles from Estonia", who have made it quite large in Germany. My popcultural insularity fails me here as to guessing why such a name was picked, why the secrecy surrounding the background of the four singers. Then again, the fans of such groups tend to be young girls - the precocious pre-tweens and swooning Lolitas. Not the middle-aged guy who still remembers fondly his beloved '66 Laurentian (known as Laura, the living room on wheels), while tooling down the road to Lansing Build-all in his latest rusty and trusty beater, sipping black coffee while listening to Charlie Haden.
Thus I popped this hit CD into my player with certain trepidation. The music genre was not up my alley, the cutesy name offended my (OK, masculine) sensibilities, and a web search turned up, for the majority mostly fan sites hosted and dominated by effusive estrogen, bubbly praise. (Not that one expects serious musical criticism on such sites. Check out the Ninjas at www.vanilla-ninja.de for promo info.) The liner notes also are enough to scare off any serious music lover - adolescent gushings of "thankxxx", over-usage of the word love, ! marks and punctuation slips galore. Leastwise no arcane hotmail girlese, the language that challenges the intellectual comprehension of any one outside of that demographic.
David Brandes, a producer of some note is behind Vanilla Ninja, also as tunemeister along with Jane Tempest. John O'Flynn is responsible for the lyrics, and they are about as one would expect - banal, empty, asking the listener to "come into my world of fears", "cos the winds of change blow again", " let me know you are mine to choose", and hey, while you are at it, "touch my skin - lovin' you is not a sin." The band memebers are not identified by name, the emphasis on electronic drums'n'bass expected, but polished, clean, full of oomph without the pa-pa.
Surprisingly, this combination of sugary sweet formula - vanilla, if you like - is not half-bad. All the ingredients are in place, and what's more, the eye candy can actually sing. Even better, Vanilla Ninja is the first group from Estonia that these ears have heard that can actually sing in English - none of that exceedingly earnest pseudo-British, or worse, Britney imitation to be heard. Clean and crisp harmonies, while owing much to ABBA are also a pleasant component in these anthems to heartless loving, crying and deceivin'. Three cuts from this CD have made it to the German hit parade lists - "Tough enough", Don't go too fast" & "Liar". Of the three none moved me to babbling enthusiasm. The best cut here is the non-PC "When the Indians cry" - insipid lyrics aside, a punchy number that survives repeated listens.
Thus, caveats admitted, a solid album in a genre that is hardly one that I feel qualified to criticize or laud. Parents and grandparents of tween-aged Estonians could do far worse than pick up this platter for the enjoyment of their precious girls. That group, teetering on the brink of comprehending musical culture is a huge market.
Breaking news of this week, as reported in Postimees on Tuesday is that the Swiss have approached Vanilla Ninja to be their national representative at next year’s Eurovision contest. Nationality is not an issue, consider that Québec’s Celine Dion also reprensented Switzerland at the 1988 Eurovision, Dion’s victory then was the springboard to a hugely successful international career that shows no signs of flagging. Will history repeat itself? Who knows, but it seems evident that Estonia has proved to be just a stepping-out point for these international spice girls.
When the formula works
Archived Articles | 05 Nov 2004 | Otepää SlimEWR
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