Wednesday, August 10, 2005


Liberez-nous des spoon solos

I've said it before, save some hard-rockin exceptions I'm still having trouble finding francophone music that I dig. I'm writing part of that off to my lack of command of the language (a difficulty I'm already hard at work trying to address), part of it to lack of knowledge of the scene (ditto) and part of it to the idea that much of Quebec pop music seems to equate "good times" with "crazy washboard/spoon breakdowns." Very little in rock, pop and hip-hop, it seems, is safe from morphing into a down-home jig and reel. Take "the Francophone Beastie Boys" Loco Locass. Liberez Nous des Libereaux ("Liberate us from the Liberals" for all you western-Canadians and 'mericans) is an angry and pretty tight three minutes and 40 seconds of humour and separatist politics with a healthy smidge of smart wordplay (Thanks to my good buddy Carl who explained the tough stuff to me over a lyric sheet). "But wait," you say. "The song is nearly four and a half minutes long. If it's tight as hell for three minutes forty, what happens to the last 45 seconds??" Well, why don't you check it out for yourself? Listen to Liberez Nous des Libereaux (Go! Buy the Rekkid!) Yup, at the 3:40 point the Locos turn Liberez Nous des Libereaux into an episode of Don Messer's Jubilee. Sigh! Pregnant Pause Ever wonder what would happen if Billy Pilgrim were actually a homicidal space marine? The New Yorker knows. (subtitle "MMMMMmmmmm, them's good Martian") I'm not sure what's wrong with the people who own these pets, but the results sure are funny. (via Defamer) As if I needed another reason to hate the Leafs. OK, I know Brit-Brit covers are kinda tired, but Frank's pick of the week is Richard FREAKIN Thompson doing Ooops, I Did It Again. Wicked? Hell YES! Forget Supersize Me. This guy is a warrior. Oh, and I want his job. (Thanks, Mike)
For us Anglos, any chance of posting the lyric sheet to the Liberaux song?

I'm not much of a translator me-self, but the french text is here:
Can't believe you'd post a link to the Slate story about barbeque in America that mentions Rendezvous in Memphis without relating your own Rendezvous experience... that's worth retelling sometime, after a pregnant pause, or a perhaps more appropriately, a Michelob-fuelled belch.
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