Faubourg Marigny is perhaps the coolest neighborhood in New Orleans. Locals say it has the same vibe that the French Quarter had 30 years ago, before it was tarted up with tourist traps. There are hip coffee shops, good restaurants, galleries, bookstores and of course, music! Music is ubiquitous on Frenchmen Street:
- jazz bands in clubs
- buskers on the sidewalks
and in the streets.
This area was spared severe Katrina damage. It has iconic New Orleans homes with lacy ironwork balconies but is better known for its many, many 'shotgun' cottages. These are narrow one story houses with rooms laid out in a line with one room opening directly in front of another. If a shotgun was fired from the front room, the blast would pass unimpeded directly through to the back room. 'Double shotguns' are two houses sharing a common wall. These modest dwellings have been gentrified in Marigny and restored in classic New Orleans style, full of color and creativity with a Caribbean feel.
Take a little tour with me around Faubourg Marigny:
Last Sunday, a world class Algerian music group appeared at the Green Music Center and, as it says on their T-shirts, they "fait un tabac" (brought the house down). This was a rare opportunity to hear a spectacular group and a genre of music that almost vanished. The group is "El Gusto" and the music is Chaabi (pronounced Shah-bee).
Chaabi means "the people" and it refers to a type of popular music that arose in the Casbah of Algiers in the 1920's. It's a blend of Berber, Andalusian, Flamenco and religious chant music that some call the "Casbah Blues" or "North African Jazz". It is a soulful and infectious people's music with violins, mandolins, guitars, piano, accordion and drums and which moves listeners to dance and sway along with it.
The concert was preceeded by a film called "El Gusto" which recounts the story of the musical group of the same name. It's thanks to a young woman, Safinez Bousbia, that the world can again experience Chaabi music and the films tells the story of the rediscovery and reunion of the musicians.
In 2003, when she was 22, Safinez was visiting the Casbah in Algiers. She had been born in Algeria but was living and working as an architect in Ireland at the time. She wandered about the medina in the Casbah and saw a handmade wooden mirror she liked and entered the shop to buy it. There she spied faded black and white photos of musicians. The craftsman, Mohamed Ferkioui, told her about his music, his time at the Municipal Conservatory of Music and in the very first Chaabi music class in the 1950's. He told her how Muslims and Jews made music together and how the war had separated the Chaabi music community and that he hadn't seen his friends for 50 years.
Ms. Bousbia spent 2 years tracking down the musicians all over Algeria and France. She decided to reunite the musicians and document it on film. Although she was sidelined for 2 years by breast cancer, she still managed to reunite the group and in 2007 El Gusto performed in Marseille. Since then they have appeared all over the world, despite being in their 80's and 90's. The film was released in 2012 and has been shown to wild acclaim at film festivals all over the world.
It tells how Chaabi music was the soundtrack to life in the hilltop Casbah of Algiers. (A casbah is a network of old stone fortifications with a labyrinth of shops and housing inside.) You heard the music in the cafés, brothels, clubs and even at the coiffeurs where customers strummed and sang while awaiting their turn. Before the Algerian war, the Jewish and Muslim Chaabi musicians were close friends. As one performer said, Jewish and Muslim weddings were similar, except the Jews had aperatifs.
But then the NLF forbade drugs and alcohol and ordered the Chaabi musicians to stop singing and join the fight. After being offered the choice of the "valise ou cercueil" (suitcase or coffin), over one million Europeans left Algeria, including the Jewish Chaabi musicians. Back in France, they weren't welcomed and were referred to derisively as "pieds-noir" (black feet). The exact origin of this term for those of European ancestry who lived in Algeria at the time of the Independence war is unknown, but it is quite perjorative and has the sense of being dirty. After the war, the buildings in the Casbah began to deteriorate and crumble and the inhabitants were dispersed to other areas in Algiers and no longer located together in a central 'hood.
The Chaabi musicians lost their music, social respect for their cultural role as musicians and their friends.The Jewish musicians also lost their country. Until Safinez Bousbia reunited the old friends and together they reclaimed their music.
If you have a chance to see the film or attend a concert, don't miss it. The clip below features the accordionist Mohamed Ferkioui (in the dark suit) and Robert Castel (in the white suit). Mr. Ferkioui is the mirror maker who first shared his story with Ms. Bousbia and launched the rediscovery of Chaabi. He is 87 years old.
Did you notice this song playing in last Sunday's Mad Men? A show that once seemed so retro has now caught up with my life. Has it really been 45 years since this song came out?
Vous avez lu l'histoire de Jesse James ? Comment il vecut, comment il est mort ? Ca vous a plus hein ? Vous en demandez encore Eh bien, écoutez l'histoire de Bonnie and Clyde
Alors voilà, Clyde a une petite amie Elle est belle et son prénom c'est Bonnie A eux deux ils forment le gang Barrow Leurs noms : Bonnie Parker et Clyde Barrow
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Moi lorsque j'ai connu Clyde autrefois C'était un gars loyal, honnête et droit Il faut croire que c'est la société Qui m'a définitivement abimée
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Qu'est-ce qu'on a pas écrit sur elle et moi On prétend que nous tuons de sang froid C'est pas drôle mais on est bien obligé De faire taire celui qui se met à gueuler
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Chaque fois qu'un policeman se fait buter Qu'un garage ou qu'une banque se fait braquer Pour la police, ça ne fait pas de mystère C'est signé Clyde Barrow, Bonnie Parker
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Maintenant chaque fois qu'on essaie de se ranger De s'installer tranquille dans un meublé Dans les trois jours, voilà le tac tac tac Des mitraillettes qui reviennent à l'attaque
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Un de ces quatre, nous tomberons ensemble Moi je m'en fous; c'est pour Bonnie que je tremble Quelle importance qu'ils me fassent la peau Moi Bonnie, je tremble pour Clyde Barrow
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
De toute façon, ils ne pouvaient plus s'en sortir La seule solution c'était mourir Mais plus d'un les a suivis en enfer Quand sont morts Barrow et Bonnie Parker
Bonnie and Clyde
Bonnie & Clyde
Did you read the story of Jesse James? About how he lived and how he died? You liked it huh? You want some more Well then listen to the story of Bonnie and Clyde
Okay, so Clyde has a girlfriend She's beautiful and her name's Bonnie Together they're the Barrow gang Their names - Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
When I came to know Clyde long ago He was a loyal, honest, upright guy I really think it's society Which has spoilt me forever
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Oh what they wrote about her and I They say we're cold-blooded killers It ain't much fun but we got no choice But shut them up when they start shouting
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Every time a policeman gets killed Every time a garage or a bank gets robbed The police has no doubt about it It was done by Clyde Barrow, Bonnie Parker
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Now whenever we try and settle down When we go live in a furnished apartment Three days later it goes tac tac tac Tommy guns get back on us
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Sooner or later we'll fall together I don't care; I'm scared for Bonnie What does it matter if they freaking kill me I, Bonnie, am scared for Clyde Barrow
Bonnie and Clyde Bonnie and Clyde
Anyhow they couldn't get out of trouble The only way out was death But more than one followed them to Hell When Barrow and Bonnie Parker died
Last week many French-themed blogs featured various renditions of the Marseillaise in honor of Bastille Day. So I have to ask, what are your feelings about the Serge Gainsbourg reggae version?
I'm crazy...crazy about Paris...crazy about word lists...crazy about quilting...and just plain crazy in general. So when I saw this music video posted on Paris Breakfasts I had to whip out my index card list of French words meaning 'crazy'.
If you don't already follow the wonderful Carol Gillott, go visit her site immediately after reading this post. She is crazy about Paris and crazy about macarons and paints delicious watercolors.
Je sais qu'on revient pas en arrière
Et que tu ne reviendras pas non plus
Mais si tu changeais d'avis quand-même
J'te jure que tu ne serais pas déçue
J'ferais des efforts vestimentaires
Je rentrerais à l'heure prévue
On passerait les dimanche à la mer
Comme on faisait au tout début
Alors laisse-toi faire
Et laisse-moi faire
Oui laisse-moi faire
Je saurai faire
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou, dis-moi où je vais avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue, dingue de toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou d'avoir tout gâché avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue de toi
Je dirai à mes potes la chance que j'ai
Ceux que t'aimes pas je les verrai plus
Tu verras cette fois-ci je changerai
Même si tu m'as jamais vraiment cru
J'ai trop le cœur en bandoulière
Et le corps aux objets perdus
J'préfère encore tout foutre en l'air
Que d'être sûr que c'est foutu
Alors laisse-toi faire
Et laisse-moi faire
Oui laisse-moi faire
Je saurai faire
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou, dis-moi où je vais avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue, dingue de toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou d'avoir tout gâché avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue de toi
Et je cours après toi
Même s'il est tard
Et je crie sur les toits
L'envie de te revoir
Il n'est jamais trop tard
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou, dis-moi où je vais avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue, dingue de toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue, dingue
Ça me rend fou d'avoir tout gâché avec toi
Dingue, dingue, dingue
Car je suis raide dingue de toi
English Version:
Crazy, crazy, crazy
I know that we can't go back
And you will not return to me either
But maybe you will change your mind
I promise you will not be disappointed
I promise to dress up more properly
And I will come home at the arranged time
We will spend our sundays at the sea
Like we did right at the begining
So, leave it to me
And let me do my thing
Yes, leave me to it
I will know how to do it
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
This is making me crazy, tell me where are we going from here
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I pisses me off that I've messed up this thing we've had
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
I will tell my buddies how lucky I am
And the ones you dont like, I won't see them again
You will see, this time I will really change
Even if you did not believe it
I've got my heart slung over my shoulder
And my bodies is made up of lost pieces
I would rather mess everything up once more
Than to be sure that everything's really over
So, leave it to me
And let me do my thing
Yes, leave me to it
I will know how to do it
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
This is making me crazy, tell me where are we going from here
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I pisses me off that I've messed up this thing we've had
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
I will run after you
Even if it's pretty late
And I will shout from the rooftops
That I want to see you again
It's never too late
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
This is making me crazy, tell me where are we going from here
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I pisses me off that I've messed up this thing we've had
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy
I'm so damn crazy about you
You might have seen this post about the visit to a friend's childhood home near Fontainbleau.The house is named Jean de la Lune.
Since then we have learned that Jean de la Lune is a classic
old French song that parents sing to their children at bedtime. For
anglophones who are unfamiliar with it, play the video below:
Here are the lyrics in French:
Jean de la lune
Par une tiède nuit de printemps,
Il y a bien de cela cent ans,
Que sous un brin de persil sans bruit
Tout menu naquit
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune.
Il était gros comme un champignon
Frêle, délicat, petit, mignon,
Et jaune et vert comme un perroquet,
Avait un bon caquet.
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune
Pour canne il avait un cure-dent
Clignait de l'oeil, marchait en boitant
Et demeurant en toute saison
Dans un potiron
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune.
Quand il se risquait à travers bois,
De loin, de près, de tous les endroits,
Merles, bouvreuils sur leurs mirlitons
Répétaient en rond :
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune.
On le voyait passer quelquefois
Dans un coupé grand comme une noix,
Et que le long des sentiers fleuris
Traînaient deux souris,
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune.
Si par hasard, s'offrait un ruisseau,
Qui l'arrêtait sur place aussitôt,
Trop petit pour le franchir d'un bond,
Faisait d'herbe un pont
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune.
Quand il mourut, chacun le pleura,
Dans son potiron, on l'enterra,
Et sur sa tombe on écrivit
Sur la croix : Ci-gît :
Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune
I couldn't find an English translation of the song, so my friend and I
had a go at it. Quelle horreur! Now I have a deep appreciation of just
how hard it is to translate poetry. You can't translate a poem
literally or you'd lose the rhyme, meter and metaphor. Thus, we need
the help of Francophones to correct our translation (below). Where did
we lose the spirit or original meaning? Do you have suggestions for an
alternate wording?
Jean of the Moon
On a warm spring night a century ago when quietly under a parsley sprig a cute little elf was born Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
small as a mushroom cute as a button yellow and green as a parakeet giggling his way down the street Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
he used a toothpick as his cane he winked his eye as he limped down the lane he lived all the year
in a pumpkin sphere Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
he walked through the woods, light as air from far and near and everywhere robins and finches whistled their sounds and then repeated them round and round Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
sometimes we saw him pass our hut In a tiny carriage as small as a nut and all along a flowery path two little mice watched him pass Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
if by chance a stream appears and blocks his path when he nears too small to take a leap a bridge of grass carries his feet Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon
When he died, everyone cried and his pumpkin was his final reside and on his cross these words arise: tucked in this tomb, here lies Jean of the Moon, Jean of the Moon.