30 Sep 2007
Hugh, that was so mignon, though I don't know where the cowboy and the cactus came in to it! And yes, I read your post on JW so I see the relevance. A propos of nothing, apart from the fact that it's also in French, here is a link to Francoise Hardy, to whom I listened beaucoup when I was in France this summer, showing my age.
30 Sep 2007
The link, alas, doesn't work. By cutting-and-pasting, the ether was filled not with the song I expected, but with "la maison o� j'ai grandi."
Yes, it takes me back, back to endless�tabloid� headlines�about�Johnny and Sylvie (http://johnny14.free.fr/jhsv1967.htm), and endless solemn discussions in Le Monde about l'enl�vement de Ben Barka,�and�the appearance of�an amazing, fantastic, glassy and glossy, ultra-modern new place called Le Drugstore.
The song I wrongly assumed you might be putting up is one that I will now put up, as a separate Musical Interlude,�so you can have your Hardy, and others can hear the favorite song of�a sixteen-year-old jeune fille, the kind who has been bien rang�e from�her�earliest years, and through her cartable-and-cahier period, right up to�the period of melancholy adolescent longing�to which Fran�oise�Hardy's songs gave expression. And soon after, all bourgeois hell broke loose, or some thought it did. All that really happened was that one set of articles of faith were replaced by another. As a result of that new set of articles of faith, many French find themselves mentally and therefore physically unable to defend themselves and France from its greatest internal threat since the Nazis goosestepped under the Arc de Triomphe, eyes right. And now all kinds of things, including the dict�e and Delacroix and the Declaration of the Rights of Man, are subject to permanent siege.�