28. Ricardo Villalobos
After a few encounters with elite Germans, you’ve probably been scratching your head who this “Ricardo” guy is they are constantly talking about. Ask a fellow Auslander in an unobserved moment and he’ll be able to confirm that unfailingly, in any conversation, elite German people will at one point start speaking in the most appreciative manner about this mysterious “Ricardo” as if they were referring to some kind of deity. Obviously, talking about “Ricardo” is some kind of elite German ritual anybody aspiring to blend in will have to master.
The Ricardo they’re speaking about is, of course, the already legendary Berlin-based Techno-DJ and producer Ricardo Villalobos. “Ricardo who?” you’re asking. Ah, right, there are a number of sound reasons why you wouldn’t know: Being an adult, for instance. Or not sharing the Germans’ assessment that raving to electronic dance music is the most avant-garde thing you can do in 2010. Or even more likely, having a life. Well, that definitely has to change. The good news is, you came to the right city to shed any suspicion you might have a life.
Photo:Ricardo and two female fans with bangs and grandma dresses
Let’s go through some background info: Ricardo Villalobos was born in Chile, a country German people love for its sunny weather, rich culture, and opportunities to start over after they’ve been accused of helping history’s worst dictator with his “eccentric” plan. At a young age, the Ricardo's family left Chile for political reasons and came to Germany. With his longish hair, messy beard, and ragged demeanor, he’s not only the most “Berlin” looking person this side of Ostkreuz, but also the most perfect incarnation of Sesame Street's Manah Manah to date. Even his name has prophetic qualities - as an omen for his popularity with elite Germans: “Villalobos”, when translated the right way, means “he who charms the villagers with music.” In short, Ricardo Villalobos seems to be a decent, if a bit moony, guy who’s just doing his thing.
The problem is that you’ll never find out if he’s actually the “suuupernette”, ubertalented, and improbably interesting person he’s constantly made out to be, because after three days in Germany you’ll bear such a massive grudge against Ricardo Villalobos from having to listen to a never-ending stream of club reports, wild weekend stories, and hardly disguised personality cult, that at the next namedropping by another insecure German person, you want to leave everything behind and take the next flight to Mongolia to live with the local nomads because somehow that looks more promising in terms of finding some likeminded people to “click” with.
More likely though, you’ll complain on a blog for a while but ultimately stay in Berlin. To make your life easier, do as the Germans do. The expected reaction to yet another tale of what your German acquaintances saw Ricardo Villalobos do, heard him say, or thought he was thinking, is wide-eyed amazement. If, for example, they say, “Ricardo was, like, sooo cool the other night,” or “soon after you were gone, he really rocked the floor,” or “Ricardo actually went back home with us for some after hour session. He pulled out these totally, amazingly eccentric records, like traditional music from his South American home country or something, wooow, that was intense!”, then the only acceptable answer for you is to repeatedly say “Äääächt?” (“no waaaay”) as if you were envious or interested.
This will give your German acquaintances a feeling of true superiority for having been closer to Ricardo Villalobos than you, which in turn may earn you some pity points. Don’t go overboard encouraging them with your drawn out “Äääächt?”s, though. It could send them over the edge and into telling this long-winded tale about their prior encounters with Ricardo Villalobos, or their friend’s encounters with Ricardo Villalobos, and what witty and deep remarks Ricardo Villalobos voiced during these encounters, and what they meant to their friends, the Berlin techno scene, culture, our future, the universe, and whatever it is the universe is contained in.
A word of advice: Being exposed to your German acquaintances’ “Ricardo” talk isn’t just insanely dull and mind-numbingly predictable. In anybody who hasn’t adjusted to the elite German way of life yet, the vapid and pointless nature of your friend’s conversations can lead to severe under-stimulation of the brain, which in turn will set off a chemical countermeasure inside your head to prevent a non-recoverable shutdown, a.k.a coma. Look, it’s a complicated procedure nature has imprinted on your genes over thousands of years, so let’s just say your mind kicks into hallucinatory mode to give your braincells something to chew on.
The symptoms are always the same: Three minutes into the conversation, suddenly your perception of their elite German faces becomes weirdly distorted. Your whole field-of-vision is now occupied by obscenely huge mouths that open and close in super slow-motion, repeating the name “Ricardo” over and over in a barely comprehensible, time-stretched moan. You are struggling to keep a grip on reality. Later, when you’ve long lost all sense of time and space, unable to tell if hours, days, or months have passed, at the point of deepest introspection, the voices suddenly stop, the nausea is gone, and as you inwardly chuckle at the amusing thought if this is in fact how it feels to die, an overwhelming and profound insight manifests itself before your inner eye, and you realize that to become an interesting human being, you must namedrop Ricardo Villalobos as often as possible.
If you manage to get through a few of these experiences unharmed, you’ll soon become a pro at mastering any conversation. Your new powers can even help you to determine how elite a particular German person is. Pay attention to the way they refer to Ricardo Villalobos. As a rule of thumb, the shorter the moniker is they use, the more you want them to be your friends. There are five known degrees of referral:
- “Ricardo Villalobos” - Avoid people referring to Ricardo Villalobos by his full name. This is a dead giveaway you’re talking to a German person who’s hopelessly out-of-the-loop, e.g. someone working at “Die Zeit”.
- “Ricardo” - This is the most common way of referral in the for elite Germans. If you hear someone talk about “Ricardo” repeatedly, you can be sure that a) that person is close to the inner circles, and b) a try-hard loser who refers to minor local celebrities by their first name to make believe they’re on friend’s terms with them, even when they aren’t. You want to be exactly like these people, so “Ricardo” is the way to go for you. Never let your guard down by asking “Who is this Ricardo guy you’re always talking about?”. Disgust and incredulous stares are the only reactions that kind of blunder will earn you.
- “Ric” - If you’ve at one point, in some way, worked together with Ricardo Villalobos, this is the way to refer to him. Maybe you’re an aspiring DJ who once did the “warm-up” for him, maybe you shoot documentaries and are trying to resurrect your fading career, or you’re in the music business and are looking for a way to secure your cocaine, errrm, revenue stream by signing Ricardo Villalobos, then yeah, you should definitely call him “Ric”. You need to set yourself apart from those “Ricardo”-using plebs. Remember: If you don’t have his private phone number in your contacts, you’re likely not in this group.
- “Errr” - The biggest fans and supporters of Ricardo Villalobos don’t actually need to use any moniker, but just make a face as if they are pronouncing the letter “R” without an actual sound ever leaving their throat. These “gods walking among men” are often seen in close proximity to Ricardo Villalobos which in fact makes their first names worthy to drop whenever you are talking to your elite German friends.
- “Me” - If you’re referring to Ricardo Villalobos by saying “me”, then congratulations, you’re probably the most interesting person in Germany. By the way, do you think there might be a way for you to make your followers a little less annoying, please? Maybe by composing a pretentiously over-arranged, 30-minute piece of educational electronic music. That'd be ace, dude!
