I was looking for some African love for V Day when I found this dramatic nugget on youtube. It’s about thunder at first sight and its consequences on a young girl’s mind. Angèle Assélé was 17 in 84 and sang the wanderings of passion with the smoothest voice. Her song is dedicated to the mysterious “Being” (“Etre” in French) whose gaze “shook her sentimental strings” during some hazardous encounter. The orchestration of Les Diablotins, and the final intervention of the backing singer really put her metaphysical quest to the next level (Jesus, E.T. ?).
Here is the beginning of it
“I met a Being that I am loving Without knowing why And without realizing But I'm afraid of this Being Which for me is like the wind This Being which is everything and nothing Which leads me to the cruelty Being who are you ? Being where are you ? Being what’s your name ? Being why are you ? ” X 2
Behind « Esperancia », the first album of Angèle Assélé, stood two monsters of the Gabonese show business. Her aunt, the diva Patience Dabany, wife of President Omar Bongo then, now exiled in L.A., and her father, General Jean-Boniface Assélé who directed the first recording studio in Libreville, a controversialpolitician who still leads the Circle of Liberal Reformers.
Between 84 and 86, Studio Mademba released three other angelic albums : « Amour sans Frontières », « Angèle Assélé et Les Diablotins », and « Papi ». They invest not only in music but also in humanitarian causes and Angèle becomes an artist-ambassador for the United Nations. Then she retired from singing for ten years and entered the direction of Cultural Affairs. She finally made another album, « Feeling Love », in 1998. She still performs today.
Santa Claus comes on the 6th of December and Jesus was born in October. Historically there is no reason to celebrate Xmas on the 25th and spend 24 hours of family madness with a distended stomach unless you’re a miscreant enslaved to the Law of Capital or late Christendom. But if you’re a Hong Kong humorist like Wong Jim, then you can sing it all year long and it's never too soon in Toyland.
This parodic medley was first uploaded by Zoundcracker - Godtube bless him. The album was released in 1990. Hong Kong was still a British colony then and the toy industry was flourishing. However "Uncle Jim" chose the middle way, and decided to mock both his communist and liberal neighbours in a classic buffoonish style. Followed by a children choir and a saxophone, he swings all the way down to the mall, trashing drunken fathers, warning against the coming of Deng Xiaoping, and praying for Hongkongers’ independence. Zoundcracker was charitable enough to post the lyrics in Chinese, Google will translate them for you.
又到聖誕
（Santa Claus Is Coming To Town）
喂 又到聖誕 啦 又到聖誕
下個聖誕有無今年咁嘆
鄧小平is coming to town
趁又到聖誕 人就要嘆啦
第處聖誕有無香港咁嘆
阿鉅子誠都怕且就 yang
八番次共你聚聚 唱歌搭住晚飯
九七先至諗大鑊飯 係要今年玩多晚
趁佢又到聖誕 人扮下懶
伴你嘆下 撇甩左阿燦
趁鄧小平未黎到自己嘆 哈
八番次共你聚聚 唱歌搭住晚飯
九七先至諗大鑊飯 係要今年玩多晚
趁佢又到聖誕 人扮下懶
伴你嘆下 撇甩班阿燦
趁鄧小平未黎到自己嘆 哈
跳啦老豆
（Silent Night）
跳啦老豆 跳啦老豆 依家就跳夠喉
係話乜都會照舊 但係怕佢一轉左 tun 後
總之今晚跳先 聽朝事聽朝先抖
笑啦老豆 笑啦老豆 九七後怕應酬
但係今天不靠左靠右
儘量 long weekend 散多兩舊
總之依大個口 出年事出年追究
do . . do . . do . . do . .
醉啦老豆 醉啦老豆 酒精係你汽油
茅台 XO 都殺啦老豆 自便加冰水雪啦老豆
總之乜都係趁手 今晚未必有回頭
香港長是我的家
（We Three Kings Of The Orient Are）
香港你長是我的家 風打雨淋係我聖地
我愛香港 萬年亦不變 點肯點忍你別離
啊 我會發狂抱住你 我要永恒照住你
我愛 Hong Kong We Love Hong Kong
愛國愛民愛護你
香港你長是我的家 千千百年係我聖地
我愛香港 熱誠絕不變 點都不會別離
啊 我會有頭有尾 永遠永恒照住你
我愛 Hong Kong We Love Hong Kong
愛國愛民愛護你
Today Cartilage Consortium celebrates Poetry. The “Marché de la poésie” takes place this sunday at Saint-Germain-des-prés, with hundred of poets sat in front of their books, and waiting for the rain to come. We have decided to help.
The song above was titled “Poésie” by “Les Dispensés de Gym”. We already exhumed talented songwriters, but those are champions. I got this Lp from my uncle who was dj in the Rouergue (Aveyron). It’s a live concert recorded at the Cultural Center of Capdenac. I couldn’t find more infos on “Maurice Ambiance”, “Granit”, “Salmacis”, “Emile Rock des Champs”, “Anathème” or “Attentat”, the other bands featured on the vinyle. This compilation probably never reached the borders of the county, and it's a pity. Capdenac was the center of the French counterculture in 79, you can’t ignore it any longer.
In this tenderness that sometimes I know This island of touch in this haven of peace The unfathomable mystery in an installment unfathomed As one block of sand among rocks
Poetry, I make poetry Poet Poet X3
At night in my bed with my girlfriend I do not want, I prefer the body of Lili In this fatal outcome, in this kinetic Known in the annals of naive memory In this game of chance, lost forever A hidden out of sight like a flower A flower without season that time forgot To flourish without reason and shiver in the wind
Poetry, I make poetry Poet Poet X3
At night in my bed with my girlfriend I do not want, I prefer the body of Lili In that word so vulgar and both noble Or once a commoner, the name comes from the kings One night, intoxicated, your crazy muse began to rave Poetry of my ass
Poetry, I make poetry Poet Poet X3
Guitar solo
Les Inconnus / Dousseur de vivre - Poésie (Chanson hard rock)
“Les Inconnus“ were a beloved trio of humorists in the nineties. They never knew “Les Dispensés de Gym”, but they faked lyrism of french hard rockers so good that their song stayed in memories. Still i first heard the name of Deep Purple in that video. You can measure the achievement of the mimicry below :
Sweet life Poetry
Listen your heart for a little It teaches you tenderness What does your soul desire ? The delicacy
God created love The day of the 7th day A love so fragile It was made of clay It is said in the Gospel Found in your head Your soul of poet Remember how it’s great The scent of violets In a field of daisies
CHORUS: Follow me All is order and beauty Luxury, calm and voluptuousness Gives a meaning to your life By putting the PO --- E ---TRY POETRY
Let your heart beat It teaches you wisdom Lets talk about your soul She wants a hug God wanted to love you That's why he made you With the clay It is not hogwash It is said in Genesis
You need Azure Open sea and fresh air So escape the threat Of mass phenomena The screams of the populace
Follow me CHORUS
Guitar Solo: Jesu, meine Freude bleibet Johann Sebastian Bach
In the years 2000 inspiration doesn't seem to come easier. This charming young man likes to tease the muse half nude. Sometimes it helps. His name is Sylvain Courtoux. “La poésie est ma petite amie” was released in 2008 on his first album “Vie et mort d’un poète de merde” (Life and death of a shity Poet) at Al Dante publishing. Very Baudelairian. He’s doing some prose too. You can get his books here.
Poetry is my girlfriend polkacore version
I spent some time writing this crap At night in my bed to write poetry It passed the time but I do not know why Texts i sent they did not want Becoming a poet to be published by Gallimard It would still be nice But there are some who are mocking I would have liked to be a fucking poet To subsidize but to publish especially Because poetry is my girlfriend She puts condoms and I listen rock I have lots of friends poets like myself Who does not publish except on the net Where there are cool stuff But poetry is a true life And we get not bored Because poetry, I like to say some things Because I'm too lazy to write a novel I tinker texts I sampled on sex Listening Haniel Joseph (?) Damn it does well Because poetry it does not pay There are even some who died before seeing their books at Auchan Because poetry I love this medium too We spit on each other, the better sodomy And then there are even some who do not have enough Who publish journals to get sucked Poetry is my girlfriend I play all the time even she does not want me Poetry is a quiet job Especially when you earn a good RMI I love poetry, i love poetry, i love poetry, so poetry I love poetry,i love poetry, i love poetry, is poetry
One day it's true, I'll go at Ardisson's Poetry leads also to a life of con One day it's too true, I will be at Ardisson's Because poetry leads to a life of con
I close that post with my all times favorite shiter, Antonin Artaud, who spent three years confined in the asylum of Rodez (Aveyron), to receive fifty electroshocks. Those “Sound effects and my cry in the stairs” come from his radiophonic piece about farting and infinity “To have done with the judgement of God”, censored in 47 by the French broadcasting. True hardcore.
Ya. Today is Mother’s day after party on Cartilage Consortium. The song is called « Femme au foyer », housekicking feminism by two French gurlz, Jess & Jen, produced by Vicarious Bliss in the year 2006. Needless to say those bathrooms trained furies wrote their songs themselves, and knew how to lubricate their mic. I saw them once in a bar, made up outrageously and shouting loud at the crowd. When you reach a certain level of excitement, you don’t need to play exactly the guitar. I asked a friend what happened to them. He told me they stopped touring few months after that gig. One got pregnant, and the story of the band ended there. Seems that kind of thing happens to the best of us. Anyhow, they left three furious songs on myspace, and few action pictures. Audition, if you hear us, please, come back !
A lot of confirmed artists chanted their love for computers : Dani, France Gall, Xenakis, Bruce Haack, Doris Norton, Theorical girls, Zapp & Roger, Kraftwerk, Michel Polnareff (although he was dating on Minitel), Annie Cordy and many others. Then Major Tom Anderson created Myspace and everybody could share this passion with the world. And we, fellow citizens of the internet, are gratefull persons. Here is a florilège of songs dedicated to the websites that turned our lives into a cyberzoo. When inspiration meets finest technology.
The Kings of Myspace were maybe the first to kick social networking in 2006. That was the golden age of animated gif. Their vid has been watched 2 796 166 times, imagine every fan had sent them a dollar.
Myspace inspires a lot of dabster rappers. Those two ganstas are digging it from their bed, they must be over 18 now.
Above, another bedroom celebrity doing prevention. And there a cover of “Grease” by a comment addict.
I end the myspace chapter with a love/hate couple of songs about Tom Anderson. The first comes from a californian bard called Plinkaplink, he wrote an ode to his favorite CEO in 2007. Tom had already sold us to Murdoch, but he's still in his top 5. The one below was posted anonymously on a forum, and hits pretty hard.
Then a search engine starts to absorb every information on you. So if you were looking for your self, you could Google it. Teyana Taylor, for exemple, does it pretty well. This guy, Waka Flocka Flames, somewhat less. Check his mixtape “Salute me or Shoot me”, you’ll understand. A slam about Googlemap, anyone ?
And one day we got tagged in Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook. Nothing really changed excepted that we spent even more time connected, and lost total control on privacy. For real.
Meanwhile another american website was channeling the overflow of internet exchanges. An auction database where you could sell your boyfriend and buy the socks of Juri Gagarin (a bargain). Indoor surfing begun to have concrete impacts in the cupboards. Here is the Weird Al Yankovic tribute to Ebay.
Of course, all this wouldn’t have been possible without personnal TV broadcasting. That’s the conclusion of Sandstorm88, who felt free to post 62 videos of him and his guitar on Youtube. “Every body needs to do what they do”, you said it bro.
Yes we’ve been warned, and that's my mp3 upload for the week, Newcleus' “Computer age”, released in 1984. How many orwellian songs were written that year ? That would make a good post. Now push the button.
I attended my first ufologist diner last week at La Defense. Never saw such a cross-eyed traffic in a cafeteria. The first case was presented by a new age grandpa in white socks, explaining us why this triangle thing upon his car the 5th November of 1990, could not be a B2. I was watching his fuzzy slide show, wondering how satellite imagery had not solved the question of ufos yet. I mean, for better or worse, and I really want to believe in extra terrestrials. Are there too much clouds over Google Earth, who really runs those orbital cameras, and what the hell happened to Major Tom ?
Well, these three covers answer clearly. He encountered a technical problem. Some say that Tom was attacked by aliens, others that David Bowie is an alien himself. The mystery remains unsolved, but let’s hear it.
The Space oddity was first covered in 1971 by Gérard Palaprat, two years after David Bowie. The french translation is more nostalgic, with true pieces of poetry if we include a guy painting rainbows in the sky, and the evocation of the Major’s mother. Tom finally overcomes his home sick, but too late, the ground control turned russian.
The second cover was released in 1974. It’s a parody by a duo of humorists, Los Hermanos Calatrava. This one appears to be the most political, and stands a dramatic dialogue between Tom and Ground Control. I don’t get Spanish but aliens surely do. Anyway you don’t have to be bilingual to hear the crash at the end. They also did a movie remake of E.T. with their feet.
The third one is a chorus of young Canadians calling the lost Major. Their lament is heart breaking and was produced by their teacher, Hans Fenger, in 1976. Some of you have probably heard about the Langley Schools Music Project. They covered songs from the Beach Boys, Neil Diamond, Herman’s Hermits and the Beatles. David Bowie liked their version a lot. This precious recording should be kept on earth and buried very deeply, if we don’t want the Little Grays to compete in colleges and mess with our girls.
This is Jean-Sébastien speaking, resurrected by Eric Charden, and explaining us the secret of his everlasting popularity. Carried away by enthousiasm, he evokes his domestic wife, sunday bunny stew, a scope of fluffy children, and the competition with fellow Vivaldi. This unexpected b side shows very few classical components but a great bass line supporting high visions of mass consumerism from 1972 :
{Refrain, x2} Bach Achetez du J.S. Bach Écoutez du J.S. Bach Consommez du J.S. Bach
Now for your souls, some mighty variations on the Fugue in D minor by british prog band Egg, that will make you go back to groovy church, at least.
JS Bach is also much appreciated by speed metalists, who like to accelerate its scores. Here is a bucolic interpretation of a french bourrée by shredder goddess Yngwie Malmsteen.
See also the headbang performance of The Great Kat, overdriving the Brandenburg Concerto on a six strings guitar. She really does a lot to promote classical repertoire on her website. Knowing that Bach has already been translated into 8beats music, next steps are logically subliminal harp. Classics never say die.
For you comrades, an old piece of future from French band The Rockets.
This ultimate prophecy can be found on their first and self titled LP produced by Claude Lemoine (Jordy’s dad) with the secret collaboration of Jean-Pierre Massiera, and released in 1976.
The debut album and 5 others can be intercepted here.
Well, many theories travel about the origins of humanity, the most trustworthy, after spontaneous design, says that we’ve been created by extraterrestrials, "those who came from heaven”, also known as Elohims in Hebrew. Because they were very busy, they left us in the big garden until we’ll be civilized enough to welcome them with honors. But things didn’t work out well, as you know. Millenaries went by and Elohims, disappointed by their greedy creatures, let terrestrials run to an obscure end. This song sends us directly after the extinction of mankind, our remains have been submerged by waves of subterranean magma. The surface of Earth is cooling, and Elohims think about a rehab. This time, they decide to replace us by four octopuses, a tribe of neurotic plants, and some silver humanoids reproducing in parthenogenesis.
Here is their seven days’ plan, a biblical journey through gargling synthesizers that will delight the hardest Darwinians. When you’ll hear the dark voice of that French Elohim*, spreading the early seeds of green pessimism, you’ll know that we have no chance to escape the apocalypse. So, let’s share together this dream of a self-managed world by this well managed band, while there is still time. Genèse Future
Après que la folie des hommes Eut libéré des forces pour lesquelles Ils n'avaient pas la connaissance Et que la grande lueur mauvaise Eut brulé en un jour toute la surface de la terre Et que toute forme de vie eut disparu Et qu'il ne resta plus qu'un océan de feu Des magmas oubliés surgirent des profondeurs du globe Et se refroidirent en mer de vie Lacs de saphirs et montagnes de poudre Alors seulement les Fils de la Connaissance Virent que les derniers lambeaux de la malédiction humaine S'étaient enfin dispersés aux confins de l'univers Et décidèrent que cette planète du système d'Oran Etait enfin bonne pour recevoir la vie.
Le premier jour, les vivants à jamais Fils de la Connaissance Descendirent sur la terre pour faire place nette Et chasser les petits génies solitaires et maléfiques Qui s'installent souvent sur les planètes abandonnées Ils virent que l'eau de la vie manquait Et se mirent à dormir là jusqu'au soir
Le deuxième jour, ils peuplèrent mers et océans de vie Quatre grandes méduses intelligentes Furent chargées de régner sur le monde marin Orion Occident Septentrion Méridion
Le troisième jour, les vivants à jamais Fils de la Connaissance Peuplèrent les surfaces émergées De végétaux pensants et autogérés
Le cinquième jour les Fils de la Connaissance Peuplèrent montagnes et vallées, plateaux et plaines D'animaux sapiens et bénéfiques Qui se reproduisaient en parthénogenèse Ces animaux étaient autogérés
Le sixième jour les Fils de la Connaissance Virent que la terre était bonne Et que l'expérience valait la peine d'être à nouveau tentée Ils créèrent des êtres à leur image Des humanoïdes à la peau d'acier Chargés à jamais d'équilibrer le blanc et le noir Le plus et le moins Des humanoïdes à la peau d'acier Gardiens toujours du secret
Le septième jour les Fils de la Connaissance Se réjouirent car la terre était bonne Dans les galaxies les plus reculées Résonnèrent les échos d'interminables festins Qui saluaient la nouvelle terre Le souvenir de l’homme même, était déjà loin
I paste here a rather close version of the translation that gave me Google
Future Genesis
After the madness of men Had unleashed forces which They had no knowledge And that the big bad light had burnt in one day the entire surface of the earth And that all life had disappeared And only remained an ocean of fire Forgotten magmas arose from the depths of the earth And cooled in sea of life Sapphire lakes and mountains of powder So only the Sons of Knowledge Saw that the last remnants of the human curse were finally dispersed at the confines of the universe And decided that this planet from Oran Was good to finally receive life.
The first day, the forever living Sons of knowledge Descended on earth to make a clean And hunt the small solitary geniuses evil Who often squat the abandoned planets They saw that the water of life was missing And began to sleep until the evening
The second day, they populated the seas and oceans of life Four large and smart jellyfishes Were responsible for ruling the marine world Orion West Septentrion Meridion
The third day, the forever living Sons of knowledge Populated the surface of the land With plants thinking and self managed
The fifth day the Sons of Knowledge Populated mountains and valleys, plateaus and plains With animals and beneficials sapiens To be reproduced in parthenogenesis These animals were self managed
The sixth day the Sons of Knowledge Saw that the earth was good And the experience was worth it to be attempted again They created beings in their own image Humanoids with skin of steel Accrued to balance the white and black The most and least Humanoids with skin of steel Goalkeepers always of the secret
On the seventh day the Sons of Knowledge Rejoiced because the land was good In the most distant galaxies Sounded echoes of endless feasts Who greeted the new land The memory of man himself, was already far
The whole album is a cheesy comet, overflew by staggering cosmovisions, crashing saucers, a poor cover of “Apache” powered by French dressing, and a lot of those solitary nuggets that often hide in the worst songs. In the mid eighties, the singer left the rocket. Fortunately their silver leggings and cataclysmic poetry had already gained international recognition in Roma.
The Rockets - Femme de métal
Their foretelling of the future woman is also to be heard, for exemple in the Galaxy lp, where our young philosophers face female technical autonomy, and make “femme de métal” rhymes with “débile mentale”. That one won’t be difficult to translate.
