Judith returns to her roots in Twente, the East of the Netherlands. With original pieces and reworked jazz standards in a Latin vibe. All in the Low Saxon dialect called Twents. She sings about growing up in the countryside, about family and love. And she tells about the Low Saxon language and culture. A concert full of emotion and a warm smile.
Her EP Op Hoes An, featuring five original songs in Low Saxon, is available on Bandcamp and all streaming platforms.
I grew up among the fields and in the forests of Twente. Speaking the Low Saxon dialect Twents felt completely natural to me. Still, I had to sing in many other languages before finding my way back to my own dialect. And that feels like coming home. The sounds are deeply familiar to me. By combining my dialect with Latin music — which I love — it becomes even lighter and more fluid. Writing the lyrics happened almost effortlessly. The journey with my family to find the right pronunciation was a joy. And now I cannot wait to share this music, these personal songs, with everyone.
Judith Nijland
Judith Nijland | vocalsTico Pierhagen | pianoPieter Althuis | bassArie den Boer | drums & percussionLucas Santana | saxophone & fluteMyrthe van de Weetering and Merel Junge | violin
Judith Nijland | music and lyricsStudioTM4Music | recording and mixSander van der Heide | masteringKaterina Bomhof-Plevkova | artwork and photographyCinesiem | video Grös
Lyrics
Judith wrote the lyrics herself, in Twents, a Low Saxon dialect. Her parents reviewed them, and dialectologist Harrie Scholtmeijer helped with the spelling. The English versions are translations.
Hellig
Ie bint zo hellig, ie bint zo kwoad Ne kopje koffie kost vier euro en dat Engels dat ze praot En alles get noe digitaal Dien telefoon wil nich wat ie wil En geneen is meer normaal Ze kiekt die an, en zet die nich, En denkt dat zie alleen bestaot, want als ie proat Luustert ze nich. Ze goat te snel en haalt die in, Ze pakt die alles af en a’j d’r wat zeg Hef dat gen zin Mer vroger warn ie altied good te pas Ie wet nog good hoe of het was Nich lang geleen De leu hadden nog respect vuur mekaar Gen gemaar, ze dön wat ze zean Ie bint zo hellig, ie bint witheet Ie wet niet eens meer woar dien helligheed nog ower geet Maar wa wanneer het is begunnen Diene vrouw hef den keer Ear seekte nich meer overwunnen ’t Zol mooi wean, um mekaar wat meer te zeen Zoals wie bint en nich alleen zoals het lik Een oordeel is aait zo snel kloar Maar wat is woar Met ne gekluurde blik Wie bint zo hellig, wie bint zo kwoad Maar volgens mie bint wie meer bang Want wie wet nich woar wie hen goat Maar loa’w dat dan toch samen wearen Dan ku’w de helligheed En het vedreet misschien ne luk omkearen
Angry
You are so angry, you are so cross A cup of coffee costs four euros, and all that English they speak And everything goes digital now Your phone will not do what you want And nobody is normal any more They look at you and do not see you And think they are the only ones, because when you speak They do not listen. They go too fast and overtake you, They take everything from you, and if you say something about it It makes no difference But you used to feel at ease in your own skin You still remember how it was Not so long ago People still had respect for one another No fuss, they did what they said You are so angry, you are white hot She does not even know what your anger is about any more But she does know when it began Your wife, that time, Did not overcome her illness It would be good to see each other a little more As we are, and not only as it seems A judgement is always made so quickly But what is true Seen through a coloured lens We are so angry, we are so cross But I think we are more afraid Because we do not know where this is going But let us be that together then Then perhaps we can turn the anger And the sorrow around a little
Grös
Alles nij veur mie Niks gung nog veurbie Kleane dröppel op het grös In de wei Zie gleenstert april, wil meert nich mear Mer lewer mei De zun har doarnoa lacht En maken ‘t korter nacht Wörmte kön ie kriegen Ik zet oe in bleui De kluur in de dagen Hef het donker verslagen En de weend in de rug Die dagen die gungen mie völs te vlug De reagen geet verdan Hee kik mie hellig an Het weeit steeds harrer en ik Bin alles zat Het donker bedech Dat ik nog nich genog heb had Mer dan is alles stil Zo helder wat ik wil As de loch nich blauw is Denk ik hem wa De snee maakt de groond wit En ik wet waor de wörmte zit Het gleuit dat het vrös En onder de dekken greuit het grös
Grass
Everything new to me Nothing had passed yet Small drops on the grass In the meadow They glisten in April, want no more of March But rather May The sun had laughed after that And made the night shorter Warmth is there to be had I bring you into bloom The colour in the days Has beaten the dark And the wind at your back Those days went far too fast The rain moves on It looks at me angrily The wind blows harder and I Have had enough of it all The dark decides That I have not had enough yet But then everything is still So clear, what I want When the sky is not blue I imagine it anyway The snow makes the ground white And I know where the warmth is It glows so hard that it freezes And under the blanket the grass grows
Pöppel
Zee wandelen op zoaterdag en zeiden nich völ Oawer ‘t laand duur ’n drek en wel Ze zag van wied vot zag ne groten en ne kleanen Verwunderd kieken noar ‘t nije en ‘t bekende En bie de pöppel, 't weien hard, Gung de blik omhoog, goh wat mooi was dat Störig stunnen de beum bie mekaar Ze zwierden hen en wier, geritsel van de bla En van de takken nam ‘t kleanen d’r een met Den is bie ’t hoes in de tuin neerzet De tak wörden een boom En ‘t geboesker van de wind Fluustert nog in de oaren van het kind De boom greuien wa zo rap Bie mie doeren ‘t èven, mar ik löw da’k noe snap Dat dör nich völ te zeggen mien pa völ hef zegd En aait blif sprekken bie de pöppel langs de weg
Poplars
They walked on Saturdays and did not say much Across the land, through the mud And whoever saw them from afar saw someone big and someone small Looking in wonder at the new and the familiar And by the poplars, the wind blowing hard Their eyes went up, oh how beautiful that was The trees stood stately together They swayed to and fro, the rustling of the leaves And from the branches the little one took one along It was planted in the garden by the house The branch became a tree And the hard blowing of the wind Still whispers in the ears of the child The tree grew so quickly With me it took a while, but I think I understand now That by not saying much my father said a great deal And still speaks, always, by the poplars along the road
Brommers kiek’n
Goa ie met mie met dan kiekt wie Of diene fiets op dee van mie lik Brommers kiek’n ma’j ok wa Maakt mie niks oet, wie hebt vast skik As ik meu bin, he’k de proemen op En de oren luk kort an 'n kop Het vrös mie op de emmer En dat maakt mie hellig in’n kop Het duurt dree korten en dree langen Binnenduur hef nooit um wes, Toch begriept wie ok op afstand Meer as hadden wie dichtbie wes Ik bin onwies wies met die Maar ik zeg dat ik die wa mag lieden Want van te direct wean Ku’j alleen ma 'n skoer deur de been kriegen
Watching mopeds
Will you come along with me Then we will see if your bike looks like mine Watching mopeds is fine by me too I do not mind, we are bound to have fun When I am tired I am at the end of my tether And running on my last legs It all goes badly wrong And that makes my blood boil It lasts from here to eternity The short cut was never the long way round And still we understand each other at a distance Better than if we had been close by I am terribly fond of you But I say that I can put up with you Because being too direct Only gets you the wind in your face
Marie
‘k Heb die nich echt kend, mer völ oawer die heurd Zwart-wit beelder hebt mien herinnering kleurd Kan mie hoas nich veurstellen, hoe ‘t wes hef veur die Tien keender in ‘t nus bie de bakkerie Aait vedan werken, hoast gen tied vur mekaar Mer ‘hoes völ muziek en in ‘t midden mien ma Aj noe had leawd wat ha’j dan toch dach Ik wol da’k ‘t kon heuren, ik wol da’k ‘t zag Marie, diene naam droag ik met völ eer Ik hop da’k het good doo Mangs vast minder as meer Niks gung vanzölf, dat heb ie mie leard En wat ie mie metgaf, is noe nog völ meer weard ‘k Heb die lang kend en ok völ met die proat Oawer ‘t leawn en d’r noa, of wie ergens hen goat Tuffels skellen op de del, ik zag die vaak blie Zovöl keender, zovöl werk bie de boerderie ‘t Hoes mooi aan kaant, met de bloom in de wear, Aan de oawerkant mien pa en op zunnag met mear Diene tied ver veuroet, dien verlees völs te groot Diene leefde he’k veuld tot aan diene dood Marie, diene naam droag ik met völ eer Ik hop da’k het good doo Mangs vast minder as meer Niks gung vanzölf, dat heb ie mie leard En wat ie mie metgaf, is noe nog völ meer weard
Marie
I did not really know you, but I heard a great deal about you Black and white pictures coloured my memory I can hardly imagine what it was like for you Ten children in the house by the bakery Always working, hardly any time for one another But a house full of music, and my mother in the middle of it If you were alive now, what would you have thought I wish I could hear it, I wish I could see it Marie, I carry your name with pride I hope I am doing it well Sometimes less than more, no doubt Nothing came for free, that is what you taught me And what you gave me is worth far more still I knew you for a long time and talked with you often About life and what comes after, whether we go anywhere at all Peeling potatoes on the threshing floor, I often saw you happy So many children, so much work, at the farm The house neat and tidy, busy with the flowers My father across the way, and on Sundays with more of us You were far ahead of your time, your loss far too great I felt your love right up to your death Marie, I carry your name with pride I hope I am doing it well Sometimes less than more, no doubt Nothing came for free, that is what you taught me And what you gave me is worth far more still