Hello dear poetry afficionados, I hope you are well as we enter another winter. I hope you are comfortably sitting and ready for another episode, for another Sunday at Bob’s. I will begin by saying that I noticed our ratings sky-rocketing since I started rhyming, and I am amazed. I don’t know if poetry has anything to do with it or if it is a simple coincidence, but since the challenge spiced up my bi-weekly sit down with myself and you, I think I will go on with this format as often as I can. Blogspot also allows me to see our audience is expanding geographically and I warmly salute everyone listening from Czech Republic and our new friends from Massilia, as well as everyone in Italy, the US, Belgium, Austria, hoping you guys are not just people I already knew with new VPN’s.
As you noticed by now, today’s post won’t be rhyming but should be interesting nonetheless. We have beautiful things this week. So let’s not waste time.
We begin with the great Ornella Vanoni, mostly known (based on YouTube views count) for her song L’appuntamento (the rendez-vous?) which appeared as opening title for the 2004 movie Ocean’s Twelve. And that’s how I know about it, I won’t lie. Oh! I would have been delighted if that encounter had taken place in a village celebration (like the frog festival not far from Montegiovi in Tuscany, I have the T-Shirt and it’s not for sell, no need to bid) or in a rusty vinyl shop of an even rustier city. But well, the encounter was made a boring evening with an even more boring bag of chips watching Mr. Clooney and Mr. Pitt rob some casinos. At least I met Ornella didn’t I?
I don’t remember how Rosa Zaragoza ended up on my computer and I should probably let you know right now it is the case of most musicians in today’s playlist. It has been a few months now that I lost those precious 16 hours a week with nothing else to do but look for music. What I do now is that when I enter my atelier, I press play on the first radio show that pops up (amongst the ones I bookmarked) and let it flow for as long as I work. I write down what sticks out and try to explore it when I have a bit of time and internet at my disposal (which is still rather rare). Why I am telling you this is because I realized it changed completely my way of approaching music. When I used to make playlists attempting to draw links between two cultures or different periods of time, I now zoom in by default and look almost only at individuals. Rosa Zaragoza is one of them. The fact I read less about what I listen to makes the act of listening quite different. And I hadn’t expected that because, when it comes to painting and my approach towards the medium I always thought it was supposed to be able to stand without words. Not that words are useless but they are something else than painting. The same way music is something else than painting. It could be interesting to talk about a painting in music, to play about a painting, but the painting shouldn’t need it in order to be understood, or appreciated. Shouldn’t it?
It is a very complex topic but crucial in my opinion. And yes or no cannot be valid answers. I have started to follow Medieval Art history classes as a listener at University precisely because I wanted to know what was behind the extraordinarily painted wooden pannels at the ground floor of the Rijksmuseum of Amsterdam. They appeared as having their own vocabulary, they look like books written with images, like songs played with paint, and I obviously lacked knowledge of that language. So you see, I can no longer stand behind the statement saying that paintings don’t need words to stand, but I cannot either state the opposite, can I?
Sorry Rosa, you were singing.
I reckon Latcho Drom is a film, I haven’t watched it yet, I just have the soundtrack on me and listen to it once in a while. It has that Django Rheinardt vibe which is always welcome in the studio. I read once the story of the film and I am ashamed to present you the music before having watched it. I might come back to it once I have.
N’golas Ritmos’ Muxima I have stumbled upon in a beautiful compilation of Créoles songs (Odyssée - Voyager autrement en musique). I think I purchased it out of curiosity, because it was one of the only records I found featuring the great Euphene Cooper, who we had the pleasure of hearing last time. There is something intimate about the way it was recorded, but also a sniper precision in the melody, as to hit precisely where it kills. You know, when an artist is so good they make it look easy, they carelessly execute the exact movement needed, while displaying calm on the verge of indifference at the same time as full control over their medium?
The AMAN Folk Ensemble is an old companion now. I have one album I cherish. It is the kind of album I don’t think I was ever able to play in its entirety when I worked at the reception, there would always be someone requesting, demanding in fact, that I change for something more conventional. I don’t think I have to expand too much on this music that is in the lines of music we heard here many times without never, I hope, get tired of.
We go on with the end song of the famous Greek TV show Eisai to tairi mou (you are my soulmate), Giannis Poulopoulos’ Aftoi Pou Menoun Ki Aftoi Pou Fevgoun (those who stay and those who leave). I almost shed a tear at the end of this episode. I guess I am a bit biased to be talking about it. I wonder how it sounds to someone who hasn’t watched the show. I think I would like it regardless.
Then we have a song I am puzzled by. It really pulls some child strings, and I wonder if it isn’t a child’s song. It very well might be. If Spanish was my mother tongue I wonder if I would enjoy it the same way I do now. I remember when I was a kid I had an album of Thelonious Monk and the only song I enjoyed was a song for kids (I don’t remember the name, most likely something like 1,2,3 or a,b,c). A few years back, I wanted to know more about jazz and so the first door I thought of opening was that one. I remembered how much I loved that song. So I gave it a shot and I must say it was the only song of the album I couldn’t stand. I found it very silly. Now when I listen to Eliseo Parra singing it reminds me that, everytime I run head down towards the mystic, the unexplainable, the uncounscious, there is always the silly awaiting in a corner to jump me and I am not always able to recognize this bastard.
Antoine Tomé, what an interesting discovery! Often I wonder why musicians of my generation tend to go for English as a singing/writing language. Besides the obvious fact that it expands considerably the audience, at least when it comes to writing, I think there is the fear of hearing one’s own voice. I am speculating here, although I did have this discussion many times. When someone sings in their mothertongue, there are no hiding places, all the flaws can be heard by that person, because it is a language they are completely familiar with. It is like talking. No one enjoys, at least the first time, to hear their voice on tape. Well I think that the use of English can be a shortcut towards satisfaction. Sometimes I hear grammar mistakes in the lyrics, but it doesn’t matter, or it matters less somehow. Often I have been told by musicians that they don’t consider themselves good writers and that writing in English simply made the task easier, the music in a way mattered most. But if it is easier, can it be because for a non-English-as-mothertongue speaker, the flaws are less visible? Anyway, another big topic but the reason I bring it up is because I feel like Antoine Tomé’s music is exactly what French speaking people are scared of sounding like if they would sing in French. And I must say, the first time I heard it I did find it a wee bit silly, but this feeling was quickly overcome. What an interesting discovery! I picked the song you are listening to because there is something Maître Gims-esque about it that I find amusing to analyse. As if French rap brought back confidence into the French language. After all Mc Solaar, Ekoué and others have probably been the best ambassadors of this language in the past thirty years. Imagine Maitre Gims singing À La Recherche De Ton Corps. Please do it.
It was some months back that I wrote a bit about music from Brittany. I didn’t mention Lina Bellard, I chose to keep her in my treasure safe a bit longer. Her music has this sort of timeless feeling I tried to express in poetry two weeks ago. She is probably one of the discoveries of the past years I cherish the most, and as such I am not sure I can write about her for very long. Maybe her music stands on its own, maybe it doesn’t need words. But if you happen to listen to her whole album you will hear that it does involve words. In a fascinating way.
We continue with A Grand Conversation on Napoleon. I am not gonna lie, I had put this song in my playlist folder mostly for its title, very cool title. But then I listened to it over and over and, eventhough I understand maybe ten percent of the lyrics, I very much enjoy it. I reckon it is about one of Napoleon’s adventures but what I find interesting is not so much the topic. It is the fact that it sounds to me like another kind of newspaper. I picture this being sung in a bar or on a village square as a way to bring the latest news. And if you have been following this blog for a while you know how intrigued I am by the different purposes music -art- can have. You also know how fascinated I am by the non-written traditions, heritages (for lack of better words) like the one of the Gnaouas or of the music from Epirus which I talked about a couple of times. The way to pass on a message without, or before the book. It can be through architecture, like Victor Hugo argues in his book Notre-Dame de Paris. It can be through music, through symbols or through paintings like in Epirus or in Lascaux. I guess the common aspect these allow is the share of instinct, the share of unexplained or explained differently, a certain fluidity the written language does not necessarily allow, or must do without.
I have to link these considerations to the objects left to us by the Celts starting the fifth century before Christ. Although they were in economic and political contact with Ancient Greece, they left no text. No text. How should we approach these object? How can we? Like we approach intrumental music? I don’t know but we are touching something very exciting.
When I pressed play on the latest release by Roots Magic, I immediatly recognized the Frankiphone Blues, one of my first loves in jazz land. We listened to it being played by Philip Cohran and The Artistic Heritage Ensemble here in one of the firsts posts on the blog. I thought I had to put it in this week! But then I thought why not go with another one? And so we have the great Devil Got My Woman, and we have nostalgia.
Another old companion is the very cool Portico Quartet. We missed you guys. I love the drums on that song. And we end with a very surprising album by the band N.K.E which I found litteraly no information about. Very chill album though.
That’s it for this week, I hope you had fun!
Dont forget to check out BEFORE 10h30!
The receptionist
Playlist:
1. Ornella Vanoni - Quale Donna Vuoi Da Me
2. Rosa Zaragoza - Canción a Mi Muerte
3. Latcho Drom - Manoir de mes rêves
4. N’gola Ritmos - Muxima
5. AMAN Folk Ensemble - Kuperlika
6. Giannis Poulopoulos - Aftoi Pou Menoun Ki Aftoi Pou Fevgoun
7. Eliseo Parra - Nana del Roble
8. Antoine Tomé - À La Recherche De Ton Corps
9. Lina Bellard - Roshan (Roshan Rossi)
10. Tom Costello - A Grand Conversation on Napoleon
11. Roots Magic - Devil Got My Woman
12. Portico Quartet - Paper Scissors Stone
13. N.K.E - Raining Somewhere Else
