Monday, March 16, 2009

Love Vertigo: A King is Dead

I know I haven't been posting for a long time. I just gave priority to my studies for now and my outrage towards the Repug camp and their desperate head games to paint Obama as the father of the deficit or to cut unemployment benefit program during a national financial crisis of THEIR doing or again to spit on Limbaugh before kissing his feet and crowning him Repug-in-chief....
What can I say, I can't wait to come back to my firebreathing days so I can burn some neocon ass once angain...

But what brought me back was not the usual backstabbing or yellow pissing of the Democrats once in power - this behaviour is nothing surprising and, like spring, it's a messy, stinking rite of new beginning where all the hidden garbage resurface and rot. Hope it doesn't kill the burgeoning talents or wonderful momentum Obama was able to foster. (Though: Why why why the Tonite Show??!)

No I decided to do a Schwarzenegger-style come back to tip my hat to one of the best singer, poet and overall artist that France ever had: Alain Bashung.

He died this week-end and it's a great lost. In inventiveness and creativity he was unequal or only by Gainsbourg and Jacques Dutronc. Musically, he succeeded where a lot of his compatriots failed and gave an American feel to his very personnal chansons francaises without kitchiness or overkill. His French rock was based on blues, steel guitar and the evocation of an elegant Western, cool as suede. He was cool, with a wonderful malleable dark rhum voice, and not a lot of modern French artist will be able to make us forget his unique contribution and place he held in the music scene.

So, goodbye Alain, mon gangster prefere. Bon retour chez Madame Reve....

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