Here is a song that sent shivers down my spine the first time I heard it. The violin sounds like a warning, the baseline like a threat and the backing vocals like angry lost souls trying in vain to call out to their living kin. Fucking spooky.
The lyrics, when I learnt enough French to work them out, were a little disapointing, seemingly regarding a medieval French Mardi Gras tradition of visiting the houses of richer neighbours and nobles to ask for charity.
But as it nowhere explicitly states that the singer is not creeping from an unquiet grave, nor does it mention what he will do if he does not receive the charity he requested, I reserve the right to interpret the song as a sinister supernatural tale concerning reanimated corpses wandering the bayou.
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What is THIS? this song is a happily neglected one. I only wish that it received some airplay at Beavis&Butthead along some witty comments from the guys, and that should be it.
Besides, am I the only one to think that the prosody is more Chiricahua than French?
I now understand what la bête was concerned about...
Je ne suis pas si sûr que les français de Louisianne se soient mêlés avec les chiricahua -il n'y a qu'à penser aux iroquois chassés du Québec-, la prosodie rélévant, à mon avis, davantage du patois que des langues indiennes. En tout cas, une étude onomastique axée sur les noms de famille des acadiens doivrait en conclure l'origine géographique.
Mais oui, l'aventure coloniale en Amérique fut une entreprise ambitieuse des rois français, et même pas seulement en Amérique du Nord. Je vous recommande dans ce sense le roman 'Rouge Brésil' de Jean-Christophe Rufin (Gallimard), ou l'on racconte l'entreprise de colonisation française du Brésil depuis Genèbre (le Rio de Janeiro de nos jours) qui échoue par l'intransigeance de la communauté protestante envers les catholiques, massacrée enfin par les portugais.
Une Genèbre calviniste sous le soleil du Brésil sans mardi gras ni carnaval, soumise plutôt au terreur absolu.
la bête
The nat-am ancestry of the Cajuns was more from the Micmacs of Acadia than the Iroquois.
I have heard it postulated that Cajun music has Indian influences, but if it does, I would reckon they originated Louisiana. On this track the chorus sounds similar to a stereotypical Western rain dance, but I suspect that's a coimncidence.
Genetically there is a definite link between the Cajuns and the First Nations population of New Brunswick, Labrador and Nova Scotia. 18th century records show that the Acadiens had already mixed quite thoroughly with the natives
Curiously enough, I only know one person in all Spain knowing so much about the greater Louisiana - Apalachicola stuff as Boynamedsue - De Jong.
I'm tempted to believe it a coincidence, but, what the hell, it's obvious you queer anoraks are not even fit to tie his bootlaces, so there's no chance you know him.
Nevermind.
alcinous
per la bête:
"Une Genèbre calviniste sous le soleil du Brésil sans mardi gras ni carnaval, soumise plutôt au terreur absolu".
sounds like a dream come true.
If only we could replace Calvinists by industrious Tridentine Catholics from Bavaria, Padania and Flanders, all living in a bay with the best beaches and a tropicale flush vegetation, then the joy would be unstoppable.
De Jong.
Mmm... Tridentine black and white, black felt hat, queer ultraviolence, the Antwerp gang... I think I've spotted De Jong as the leading voice of Adam and the Ants (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sn0Dovqaf8Y).
I'm still clueless about why was he sporting vaseline in his lips, albeit it's easy to imagine how it got there, isn't it DJ?
A more disturbing thought is that, if this were confirmed, the old prick must be about 60 now.
We're approaching to the crunch and I say DJ must COME OUT.
Regards,
alcinous
If the Dj comes out, panic on the streets is the only sure result.
DJ, hopes may rise on the Grassmere, but honeypie you're not safe here...
(verification code DJtlzq, damn my Alpha magnetism)
I have repeatedly scolded Alcinous for calling me DJ, to little success so far. The usual retaliation is calling him Al. Let's see if it is necessary.
As for me coming out (a long time fantasy of good ole Al.) the answer is always the same: you wish! maybe narrowly, ok, but still I do not fit in the stereotype of repressed gay ultraconservative. I only pledge to the plain ultraconservative stereotype, no strings attached.
I know, BNS, I know am not safe here...that is why I run to the safety of this blog...
Did I ever tell you that the first thing that came to my mind when I checked what and where Wakefield is was the line 'provincial towns you jog 'round'?
I like you even more now that I know you are from one of those. Now that I know they exist at all.
De Jong
'could life ever be sane again?'
Ok, Alcinous, your Parallel Lives effort equating De Jong to Adam Ant is certainly not the worst you have made in your mono-mania to find me.
Indeed the Jack Sparrow avant la lettre depicted in that videoclip could go as an apocryphal rendition of the De Jong character.
I admit having a taste for glitter and glam, T. Rex, early David Bowie (well, ANY David Bowie) and else.
However, if you wanted to picture the De Jong type best, I think Falco schizoid persona (dandy in a bow tie vs. out of control male in impossible whigs) suits me so much better
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2N2tIIrS5DM&feature=related
Actually all those excessive videos from the early 80s just one step short of apocalypsis hit the right spot...you know, Duran Duran goes Mad Max ('wild boys'), Frankie Goes to Hollywood ('welcome to the pleasure dome' -I wonder...just how many people from that video died by AIDS?-) and the like.
De Jong.
'you can call me De Jong'
Oh, I’ve always believed the Marmorsaal at the Upper Belvedere was a highly fit location to stage a glam wig party, with all those loggiette, close to the central staircase and with access to nearby halls and facilities. But still, Fouquet’s Vaux-le-Vicomte remains unbeatable in my favourite place ranking list.
But, De Jong, I do not wish to be sidetracked from the main point of your post.
I’m happy chappy that you finally provide a binding formula (‘no strings attached’) to shake the ongoing stalemate.
I myself couldn’t have put it better.
Best regards,
alcinous
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