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(Chorus) Oh, spin me round and make me bright Bathed in the neon Kermis light With sugar sweet and hearts beating fast The best night ever, meant to last.
Yet, in its cheap, repetitive, unapologetic noise, there is profound honesty. It is the sound of human joy mechanized. Next time you hear that distant, distorted melody floating over the smell of caramel and gasoline, stop for a moment. Listen past the noise. You are hearing a century of engineering, psychology, and carnival soul compressed into thirty seconds of glorious, ridiculous sound.
There is a specific frequency of sound that acts as a time machine. It isn’t a song from your high school prom, nor is it the sound of a parent’s voice. For those of us who grew up in the Low Countries, or in any town with a travelling funfair, the time machine runs on the broken, cheerful chiptune of a Kermis jingle .
(Chorus) Oh, spin me round and make me bright Bathed in the neon Kermis light With sugar sweet and hearts beating fast The best night ever, meant to last.
Yet, in its cheap, repetitive, unapologetic noise, there is profound honesty. It is the sound of human joy mechanized. Next time you hear that distant, distorted melody floating over the smell of caramel and gasoline, stop for a moment. Listen past the noise. You are hearing a century of engineering, psychology, and carnival soul compressed into thirty seconds of glorious, ridiculous sound. Kermis Jingles
There is a specific frequency of sound that acts as a time machine. It isn’t a song from your high school prom, nor is it the sound of a parent’s voice. For those of us who grew up in the Low Countries, or in any town with a travelling funfair, the time machine runs on the broken, cheerful chiptune of a Kermis jingle . (Chorus) Oh, spin me round and make me