An open letter: Nik & Jay

click to play Kommer Igen

Dear Nik & Jay,

I am not your target audience, for I am not a screeching, fainting 14-year-old girl. However, I am quite enamored with your white boy hip-hop-lite take on my new city and all it has to offer. If I may, a few words – mostly questions, really – on why my pulse races whenever I hear your oddly charming pop tunes.

Despite the embarrassment that accompanies my awkward love of your simplistic pop-hop style, I’ve found that it increasingly comes in handy as I learn your native language. Did you know, for example, that I was able to read a friend’s note from a repairman only because of your song, “Kommer Igen?” She looked bewildered, but I calmly explained, “He will come back.”

Similarly, in my Danish module one course, I have confirmed that “flytte” means “move,” since to me, it originally sounded like you “flew into Vesterbro” in “Du Gør Mig Høj.” I was a real pro at this particular word by the time my lovely teacher asked me to speak aloud about my own relocation.

I wonder:
- Where is the helipad in your “Kommer Igen” video, and how does a proletarian like myself access it?
- I live near Bellevue. If I go out and stand on Strandvejen, will I ever see you cruising my direction?
- When you say “skru op for den bitch,” do you mean that a bitch should turn it up, or that it – it being an amp or the volume perhaps – is a bitch that should be turned up?
- If your story in “Du Gør Mig Høj” is true, why did you move so much in such a concentrated area? Over what time period did these relocations occur?
- Do I really make you hot, and do you really love me?

I say with shame that I cannot tell you apart from one another. If I saw you walking in Nørrebro, I would have to call you by your collective moniker. And yet, you are the ultimate package deal. If anything, this should be a compliment. I resist paying entrance fees to Tivoli to see your perform – I am trying to be less of a resident tourist, after all – but I eventually hope we pass and man-nod to one another on the street. I’ll be the punky looking chick who isn’t as cool as you. Then again, you’ll also probably be in your sweet ride. I’m usually on foot.

Thank you for your contribution to our insular shared land. I remain indebted to your simple grammar, recognizable video backdrops, neighborhood name-drops, and attention to current local fashion. I am fascinated – without irony – by your pensive stares and random pointing. You make understandable pop music, even as my Danish comprehension remains poor. Thankfully, though, you also assist me in learning, just by being.

I hope that as my language skills improve, our relationship does not diminish. You are not first in my iTunes, but you are not last in my heart.

xo,
b