Globalization and Resurrection: Viva the 80s

How long has it been since you heard this song?

Or this one ?

This?

Foreigner?

Tom Cruise?

The ubiquitous Bryan Adams. Every time the San Miguelito bus plays its Bryan Adams mix, I curse Canada a little bit more.

I really wish I had that flame effect.

It is truly staggering how many famous people are in this video.

Teacher! Sing us the Titanic song!!


If you're in my parents generation, your response to that question is likely "Not in quite sometime." If you're in my generation, your answer might be "Never." Yet in Nicaragua, all the songs I've sampled here are widely listened to, mainly on public buses, but also at home and in English song competitions. In an age in which hipsterdom reigns, I may need to clarify that people actually love these songs, not ironically. Musica clasica (Classical music) or Musica romantica (Romantic music) are very common responses if you ask Nicas, especially those in their 30s and up, what kind of music they like. There are Spanish language versions of many of these songs that are commonly played as well.

I've had nearly two years to figure out why these songs are still so popular here. Did they just make it down here really late with the war and subsequent economic turmoil? But it's not like "Radio Disney" doesn't play the latest hits, albeit a few months after they come out in the States (which I realized on a trip home in December). What was it about the 1980s and 1990s in America that resonates with Nicaraguans today? How does the cheesy-ness of the music I hear not translate? What gives these songs so much staying power?

Many cultural commentators have voiced fears that globalization means we'll end up with one super bland worldwide culture in which everyone listens to Ke$ha and eats big macs. What I find more to be the case is that American things are adopted ad-hoc, and maybe they take on a different meaning.

I have one more interesting musical tale of cultural globalization: the song "Nwa Baby: Ashawo Remix." This song, by the Nigerian artist Flavour N'abania somehow made it to Nicaragua's Caribbean Coast (primarily home to people of African descent and indigenous groups). By now though, it's made it to the mestizo side of the country, and I've heard it a lot on the buses. To me, this doesn't seem as mysterious. It's unbelievable catchy. I dare you not to feel happy as you listen to it.