Recently in Music Category

I have been learning how to speak French for quite a few years now, and there has definitely been quite a bit of improvement since our first visit to France in 2003.

The number of times that my classmates and I have gone over the various tenses is almost embarrassing when I think about it. Slowly but surely we have all got better at it.

The tense that gives us the most trouble is subjunctive and it seems to be because that tense is so rarely used in English, it is hard to understand when and how it would be used.

I am lucky enough to have a comprehensive collection of French music, which means that while I am not particularly comfortable with using subjunctive on the fly, I can at least recognise it when I hear it. (sometimes even without thinking about it)

The trouble is that to recognise in the lyrics that phrases are shortened, to make them easier to sing or to say, as well as use of the subjunctive is quite difficult, as this phrase extract from Francoise Hardy's "Fais-moi une place" shows:

Fais-moi une place
Au fond d'ton coeur
Pour que j't'embrasse 
Lorsque tu pleures
Je deviendrai
Tout fou, tout clown, gentil
Pour qu'tu souries

J'veux q't'aies jamais mal

Qu't'aies jamais froid

Et tout m'est égal
Tout : à part toi
Je t'aime

And from Jean Jacques Goldman's Confidentiel :

 
Peut-être que l'on se retrouvera
Peut-être que peut-être pas
Mais sache qu'ici bas, je suis là
Ça restera comme une lumière
Qui me tiendra chaud dans mes hivers
Un petit feu de toi qui s'éteint pas.

Of course we run words together in English all the time. We also use the phrases (in subjunctive)  "let it be", "be careful", "be on time" without even thinking about the tense. It's only when learning another language that one can be confronted with the knowledge that there's a lot about our own language that we do not know. And that most people don't care, either!

(And of course there are also the Il faut, and que cues for subjunctive- pity it has taken so long to sink in)

If you want to listen to the beautiful songs these extracts are taken from, check out iTunes...or numerous other sites on the internet. And I can (now) provide a reasonable translation...

After a disturbed night, when music would not soothe, and Coco kept getting up and down, five thirty came around at the usual time, but it sure felt like much earlier. I stayed in bed, resolving to get up an hour later, get dressed, and head straight into work, to enjoy breakfast there, rather than at home.

Before I had a chance to get out of bed, my mobile rang, a colleague alerting me to a road accident on the Monash which was sure to result in delayed travel. I went back to bed to catch some extra shuteye, stirring later, with the idea of leaving around nine, and missing the majority of the traffic jams. A check of the vicroads traffic updates, and radio updates before nine and the decision was made to work from home instead.

This is the third day in a row where there have been major disruptions to peak hour traffic. Usually, I travel early enough to avoid most problems, but not today.

The benefit of working from home is that there are less interruptions, but less interaction with work mates. Result, more work done, but less fun... and some frustration as the wireless connection keeps dropping out.

Lunchtime brings on the next of my food challenges after the elimination diet, as possible food suspects gradually get added. The thought of eating plain baker's yeast does not appeal at all. But, surprisingly, I am able to consume half a packet, mixed with half of a large banana. Not so bad, after all. Just not on the list of preferred foods.

At the weekend, all going well, tomato can be added, then next week citrus fruit, chilli and spices and finally varieties of nuts, one at a time.

Coco is very pleased to have someone from her human family at home, but loses patience after a while with not being able to get on a knee.

The street is not quiet, construction noise from the new build two houses down provides a background hum, as the contracters hurry to finish everything off before Christmas.

A trip to our chiller warehouse in the afternoon to inspect some product in -10 degrees C temperature provides an interesting interlude in an otherwise quiet day.

Another busy week has flown past, with the spring racing carnival finished and last French class of the year. When I think about my progress in learning a foreign language, I know I have more incentive than most to learn, and it has been a passion for quite some time, now. Progress is measured in small improvements, increasing understanding of the spoken language, enhanced by listening to French music most days on my way to and from work, and the recent gift of a collection of French Music totalling 773 separate tracks.

To my delight, I can understand many of the lyrics in the new collection, as I take a musical "Tour de France", and the music soothes the soul when traffic is heavy on the Monash.

Of course, getting this extra music has made my previous technology for portable music completely unable to cope, so I bought an iPod Touch to house the new collection, and to provide a way of putting my whole music collection in the one place, for easy listening.

Now, G has discovered the game playing capabilities of this new machine, and I am having a hard time getting it back as he tries to beat my record score in Bejewelled.

I have been thinging what it is about some pieces of music, that in the hearing of them, is capable of changing my mood (for the better) or others that pick up a touch of melancholy, but somehow in the end also lighten it, by the sheer joy invoked in simple harmonies, key changes or resolution of incompleteness .

This particularly applies to music in a minor key, because even some French music has this effect on me, as my understanding of some of it is limited, unless I spend some time studying the lyrics, so it must be the overall sound that does it.

The half hour trip home from work in the car, with a CD playing (at my preferred volume level) is often enough to take me, metaphorically at least, to another place. To relax, and let my thoughts fly where they will, and all inspired by music.

Today’s attire

AM

Slinky long line black v neck top
Black boots
Brown cord pants with zipper in back to give good line to the pants
Black and gold silk scarf tastefully arranged across shoulders.

PM

Thanks to helpful advice from female colleague, realise that outfit needs to be rearranged:

Slinky long line black v neck top check
Black boots check
Brown cord pants oops, zipper failure
Black and gold silk scarf tastefully arranged across hips...

The post that Aussie Lass made yesterday about singing in the loo, brought to mind my early experiences at my current workplace, when my workstation was either next to, or within eyesight of another blogger, Desi. During a conversation, if some of the words of a song came to mind, we would find ourselves singing the phrase, and at least the next line in the song, if we could remember it...

Eg

No milk today
My love has gone away (with apologies to Herman’s Hermits)

Take me home, country road
To the place, I belong (apologies to John Denver for ruining the sound of this great song)
Etc etc

This would be followed by much giggling and laughter, but at least it provided a respite from the humdrum routine. And if the noise levels became elevated, as they often did, maybe: “Quiet, please! ”, from our supervisor/s, and I was usually lucky enough not to be noted as the culprit in all of this...

My shift to the other end of the building, this time last year, meant that these episodes almost ceased altogether, unless I happened to be down the other end when inspiration struck! (Luckily there were other compensations!)

***Edit***
In a postscript, looking for the correct words of Country Road, came across this website: Misheard Lyrics.
I particularly like "mountain llamas" instead of mountain mama!

I have enjoyed listening to some music which I obtained when we were in France last year, recommended as representative of modern French contemporary music, in particular, the music of Michel Berger, Daniel Balavoine, JS Lavoie, but also the soundtracks of Notre Dame de Paris musical and Les Choristes. This serves two purposes, the first to try to immerse my brain in French language as much as possible, so I can reach a higher level of comprehension, and secondly, pure enjoyment of the quality of some of the music. To be learning a second language in this day and age offers the opportunity to locate lyrics on the internet, hear the music on radio stations which are streamed, or on special sites. And if I am lucky enough, to have the CD. I have particularly enjoyed the music of Daniel Balavoine. Last weekend, I found his web site, as I was looking for the lyrics of a particular song which I had enjoyed. I had been thinking that I like his music so much, that I was contemplating seeing if we could organise tickets when we are next in France, so imagine the shock of reading his biography to find that he was killed in a helicopter crash in Africa in 1986, during the Paris Dakkar rally. I had known nothing of his history, only that I enjoyed listening to his music. Some of the lyrics which are particularly evocative are “Mon Fils, mon bataille”, which is the story of his battle for access to his son, and “Partir avant les miens” which is a prophetic song about dying before his family. Sounds a bit morbid, but I could understand the sentiments. If you want to listen to these songs I will put the links up.

The postscript to these comments is that, after finding out that DB had fallen off the twig, so to speak, I succumbed to my usual emotional reaction to sad news, and sobbed my heart out. G arrived home from the market that Saturday morning shocked to find me red eyed and teary, and thought that something terrible must have happened. He was somewhat relieved to discover it was some unknown (in Australia, anyway) pop star who died 20 years ago! And, touchingly, he did not laugh at me, at least, not then…

Even funnier, though, was the reaction of K and S in France, when they heard about it a week later, it set them off in gales of laughter. Of course, they knew he was dead, so it made it even more ridiculous for them that I had contemplated buying tickets. Pity it’s twenty years too late to do so.