How many of us are actually here?

“How many of you don’t understand a word of German?” Judith Holofernes called out to the crowd.
About seven hands went up.
Not enough to really need an interpreter.
“How many of you are actually from Amsterdam?” Three-quarters of those who raised their hands.

Because the lyrics of “Wir sind Helden” aren’t the easiest. At least, they’re rarely—if ever—found in books like *Der Übungsmeister* (I’ve seen with my own eyes that my friend J.’s textbook was called exactly that).

Now, with music, it usually doesn’t matter all that much whether you can follow it word for word. Provided it’s good music—and that’s definitely the case with Judith and her guys.

Still, I wondered: anyone singing along here must be German. And anyone keeping their lips tightly sealed must be Dutch.
But the world isn’t quite that simple.

Because while no one sang along to one song with fairly simple lyrics, the entire audience suddenly swayed along to that other performance. I didn’t know the lyrics by heart, but three-quarters of the audience did. And loudly, too. Judith was suddenly blown away. Not a Dutch accent in sight.

Were there mostly Germans here after all?
Guys, tell me—just how many of us were there, anyway?