What the World Cup Sounds Like

Hua's note: Anmol—who blogged this week on South Africa's fidgety loyalties and R. Kelly—just texted me from the 13th row of the Uruguay-France match. Meanwhile, I am sitting at a desk in Cambridge, MA, flanked by moving boxes. Next week: a couple new contributors, Pete watches the World Cup in strange places, what footballers do in their free time, and more. In the meantime, here's hoping that you've found an Authentic Brit (or Real American) to watch tomorrow's much-hyped restaging of the Revolutionary War, this time with commemorative t-shirts.

What Time is it There?
By Hua Hsu

The hallucinations were a problem.

It was 2002 and, in a vaguely heartening moment of slow-cooking historico-regional tensions sheathed in The Name of Something Greater, the World Cup was being co-hosted by Japan and South Korea. A great look for Asian football: South Korea ran riot all the way to the semifinals, Japan made it to the knockout stages and soon European clubs began investing in their many compact, double-take strong midfielders. But it was terrible for those living around the East Coast, where many matches began at around 3 or 4 am. At some point during the knockout stages, the lack of sleep finally ensnared me. The Predator—or, more precisely, a hallucination thereof—stood in a dim corner of my living room, next to my roommate's collection of mesh caps, silently judging me.

I was too drained to do anything but shift my sight-line back toward the television. Orange might be the color of madness, as any Van Gogh-quoting Dutch football enthusiast can tell you, but there was a sustenance in that wiry, astonishingly measured intensity of all those Korean fans on the TV, a vast, inscrutable ocean of red shirts and permed black hair. At some point, during a goal or an egregious booking, I can't remember which, the night's still was broken by a solitary shout, issuing from somewhere on my block. I regained my sense of having senses and surrendered to a nap on my couch. I barely remember anything of the 2002 World Cup beyond those red shirts and the neither-night-nor-morning-yet-both mania my mind associates with them.

Many will surely recall 2010 simply as a sound, the aggressively ambient buzz of the vuvuzela. Unlike the whistles, chants and (in 2002, at least) dull, inflatable thunder-sticks you might hear elsewhere, the vuvuzela produces a consistent, more suffocating soundscape. It's kind of a perfect sonic representation of how many of us will experience this World Cup. The vuvuzela produces a sound that is constant, unerring, temperate, insert winged insect reference here. Like the steady, never-asleep streams of data swarming through Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, etc.—this will be the first World Cup where we are this effortlessly linked—the vuvuzela's buzz is only truly notable when it's absent. It rarely crests or dulls, it's just always there, like new Web pages being loaded, the purr of fluorescent ceiling fixtures, the rainforest-like sound of hundreds of keyboards being finessed in unison.

Presented by

Hua Hsu teaches in the English Department at Vassar College and writes about music, sports, and culture. More

Hua Hsu teaches in the English Department at Vassar College and writes about music, sports, and culture. His work has appeared in The Atlantic, The New York Times, Bookforum, Slate, The Village Voice, The Boston Globe Ideas section and The Wire (for whom he writes a bi-monthly column). He is on the editorial board for the New Literary History of America.

The Case for Napping at Work

Most Americans don't get enough sleep. More and more employers are trying to help address that.

Join the Discussion

After you comment, click Post. If you’re not already logged in you will be asked to log in or register.

blog comments powered by Disqus

Video

The Case for Napping at Work

Most Americans don't get enough sleep. More and more employers are trying to help address that.

Video

A Four-Dimensional Tour of Boston

In this groundbreaking video, time moves at multiple speeds within a single frame.

Video

Who Made Pop Music So Repetitive? You Did.

If pop music is too homogenous, that's because listeners want it that way.

Video

Playing An Actual Keyboard Cat

A music video transforms food, pets, and objects into extraordinary instruments.

Video

Stunning GoPro Footage of a Wildfire

In the field with America’s elite Native American firefighting crew

Video

The Man Who Built a Forest Larger Than Central Park

Since 1979, he has planted more than 1,300 acres of trees.

More in Entertainment

Just In