Embracing your inner Pop Princess

Sometimes I'm unabashedly pop.  I like all kinds of music, from folk to country to a bit of old-school rap and classical.  But I always come back to pop/rock.  And sometimes a little Selena Gomez and Britney to sing-along to and make up your own ridiculous videos to in your head is just plain fun.  I regularly croon along to old Cibo Matto songs in my car, the English-Japanese pop from the late 90s.  Or I get cathartic with pseudo bad girl Katy Perry when I sing along to Roar.

Pop is changing though, getting mellow and deeper, sometimes, so I sing along with the earthy and ethereal Lorde on Royals.  Or those dippers and downers with the lovely Broken Bells songs.  Then there is the French artist Calogero who sings about more serious subjects. In his newest one he tells the true story of a young guy being killed in his neighborhood basically for looking at someone the wrong way.  

There is indeed some fine and fun French pop out there, too.  Check out the Frenglish in this R&B tune by French singer Indila.  Can you spot the English words? 



Or the funnily named Cats on Trees, with their slightly melancholy Sirens Call.

Maybe music purists would snub their noses at some of these songs.  Maybe in a few years I'll wonder what I saw (or heard) in these songs.  But if they perk me up on a Monday drive into work or on a grey autumn day, then where's the harm?  In fact, they nourish the soul, get me moving and humming.  So it's all good!

What is your musical weakness that you might not always admit to everyone?

Child of the 80s

No, I haven't forgotten I promised another installment of the musical odyssey of my life.  After Child of the 70s, here it is, folks, my tops from the 80s.

Picture it, little Milam with pony tails blissing out on her parents' big stereo system and requesting to listen to Hall and Oates (the album or cassette, I'm guessing).  Heard this song just yesterday in the car, and, as always, had to turn it up and start groovin'.



Come on, I dare you NOT to dance to that one.

In the 80s I was old enough to understand things, or think that I understood things.  Videos like this one by Adam Ant were a bit tantalizing though I couldn't necessarily put my finger on why.



This guy was like the precursor to Jame Franco sexiness!  But his video is positively tame compared to most today.

And while we're on the subject of Brits, Billy Idol had some raw energy that was fun to sing along to.  I remember being a wee bit scared by this video as a child.



But my ultimate British bad boy and first crush had to be Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran.  I clearly remember standing on my bed to give my poster of the band the occasional kiss.



The hair, the eyes, the camouflage make-up. Oh. Yeah.

Now that I think about it, the Brits were quite prominent on the 80s music scene.  Also love this funky one by Wham.




Man, I think I could go on all day.  The 80s were really my formative years, my musical awakening.  And there were indeed some great, memorable songs.

But the 80s were also the start of a life-long love affair with a particular New Zealand/Australian band.  Thanks to my aunt Jane and my mom, I heard the minor keys and alternatingly upbeat and melancholy sounds of Crowded House.  Their most well-known song is this one, but don't limit yourself to it.  Their range, and that of now solo artist Neil Finn is amazing.  These guys are really the soundtrack of my life.



Wow, so young!  This video is actually very beautifully-filmed as well.

After that little trip down memory lane, I can't help but smile.  I wonder if one day when I'm in a retirement home they'll put on cd's of 80s music the way they put on songs from the 50s at the nursing home now.  I think I'll be groovin' with my walker.

So I can't wait to hear your favorite 80s songs!

Child of the 70s

I was born in 1974.  I have pictures of me wearing those striped t-shirts in colors that are "so 70s".  And though there was a period of time when I certainly shunned the 70s (as a teen or young adult), I've got to say there's some nostalgia in me too.

Of course only having spent my pre-school years in the 70s, I wasn't conscious enough to realize how much technology they did NOT have.  It is pretty amazing to imagine a world without the instant gratification of listening to the track you want immediately on a CD or better yet, youtube or mp3s.  It seems almost quaint.

And I really dig some 70s music that brings back childhood memories.  I like to go back to that aural universe and remember car rides home in the dusk with my parents or imagine us listening to albums (on record players or tape decks) way back when.

It would be hard to pick just one album that signifies the 70s to me.  Let me say I don't like ALL 70s music.  There is some that makes me cringe.  And some that I sing along to at top volume.   Enjoyed the film with Simon Pegg Paul that featured a lot of classics from that era.

So on my 70s music "must list", I'd put:
The Eagles: "New Kid in Town"
Steve Miller Band: "The Joker"
Jerry Rafferty: "Right down the Line"
ABBA: AHHH, ABBA, so many good ones!  Of course, "Dancing Queen" or "Fernando".
Supertramp: "Breakfast in America"

And if I'm feeling campy, then I'd go with:
The Carpenters: "Close to You"
Starland Vocal Band: "Afternoon Delight" (gotta love the super cheesy version from Anchorman)

If you hardly recognize any of these, you might be a child of the 80s or 90s.  That's ok, cause I'm one of those kids, too.  Stay tuned for my "best of" for these decades later.

Meanwhile, I'd like to thank my parents for exposing me to their music.  Including the classic guitar riffs of Dire Straits. 

Have you got a favorite song (or one that makes you wince!) from the 70s?  Embrace your inner bell-bottoms and tell me!

Sweet sounds

When I first got to France I found some of the French music a bit too soft for my tastes. (This is not to say there aren't some rockin' French bands...) But I guess I've come to appreciate the softer side sometimes as well.

Take a listen to this song (C'est bientôt la fin) from the musical Mozart Opera Rock. It's really one of the most uplifting melodies I've heard in a while. Remi spotted the lyrics: "mets du fard sur tes idées pâles" (put some blush on your pale ideas). The images in the video mix modern day Paris with the characters from the past. Something about it all just kind of makes me happy about living in France. (Don't worry, I'll be back to complaining any moment now). Can't get it to be in its own youtube screen so you'll have to do it old school. PS: there might be an add before the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS1SGkWoHec&feature=youtu.be

Enjoy.

Abba-mania, toddler style

The surviving members of Abba have got nothing to worry about. They can keep collecting their royalties over the next few decades, because it seems their music appeals to the new generation just as much as to the kids from the 70s and 80s.



Note: no toddlers or stuffed bunnies were harmed in the making of this video.

You know the feeling...

...when one of those oldie but goodies comes on the radio? You turn it up a bit too loud. You start driving a bit too fast, not intentionally, but because your foot is tapping to the beat. You start singing along even if you don't have tinted windows and you don't care if you look like a fool to the drivers around you. Because you are in the moment. And it doesn't get any better than this.

I'm guessing you've all got a song or two that are on your "must turn up loud" lists (and I'd love to know which ones). For me lately it's that Chaka Khan song, I feel for you. Yeah, I know, you whippersnappers born after 1980 are groaning about now. But you just wait. One day a song from your childhood will come on and kids (and by this I mean those only ten years younger than you) will scoff. Let them scoff all they want. One man's musical trash is my musical get down and boogey treasure.

My husband and I are basically from the same generation (he's four years younger), but I've found that the cultural differences can create some chasms in our musical tastes. Some sappy French 80s song will attract his attention while I'm trying not to make too many snide comments. But for him it recalls fond memories driving around with his dad when he was 10 or so.

But a car ride with Remi can also be a real exercise in patience because he's a pathological channel turner (same with the TV). I don't even have enough time to say, "Wait, that's a great Sting song," and he's turning it, and turning it again. The worst is when he'll have been listening 20 seconds, enough for me to get into a song, then abruptly turn. His internal song-o-meter must have told him it wasn't worthy.

Luckily we can agree on a few bands or artists, like most songs by Muse, Rhianna, Lady Gaga, and, oops, not too many more. His taste tends more towards all things dancey and slightly techno. I can dig some of those types of music, but also appreciate folksy rock and stuff he considers country, like the Eagles (help me out here, foks, they aren't country, right?, which I do like sometimes too, by the way).

Then there are those funny moments when I'll hear some strange French remake of The House of New Orleans. And a debate ensues about which country wrote it first. I'm inclined to think that would be my country, but not always.

Here's a game if you've got some time to waste: Listen to these French songs and name the American song. Answers at the end of the post.

1.

2.

3.

So, did you get those? 1. Black is black, apparently by a Spanish band. 2. Do wah diddy diddy. Written by a British group. 3. My Way. And this one was actually written by the French artist first.

And yes I'm a little ashamed at how much time I spent on this post, but it sure was fun!

"Shufflin'" on a summer afternoon

Birds flying high
You know how I feel
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by
You know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me..
And I'm feeling good

Those were the words that my iPod "chose" for me on a recent weekday afternoon as I set out for a stroll in the urban park. It was Muse's slinky version of the old classic. How did Apple's shuffle feature know that it was a perfect blue sky day and the sun was warming my arms to just the right temperature?

I was killing time during the two hours between my lessons in the client's company. It would have been silly to drive back to the center anyway. So I ate my puny sack lunch in the park and then wanted to explore the neighborhood a bit. For two years I've been driving to this place and just admiring the old brick bourgeois houses from my car.

I picked a good day to do it. Kaolin's Partons Vite came on and the happy-go-lucky "la la la" went well with my light gait. The park had a few visitors, a young teen biking and talking on his cell phone, a mom and her two young girls. But the city was already quieter than normal.

We're in the summer vacation period in France where at any given moment it seems like a third of the people are off. With five weeks per year (or eight (!) if you work at a company that has compensation time and a good union to negotiate for you), most French folks take two to three weeks in the summer. Which makes for a much more pleasant drive to work and a quicker visit to the supermarket for those of us who are "left behind". Personally it makes me already feel like I'm off to have less people around.

So it now was the juilletistes' turn to go to the beach or wherever. Yes, les vacances are so sacrées here that there are even specific names for those who take their vacation in July (juilletiste) or August (aoûtiste).

As for my own vacation, I'm half juilletiste, half aoûtiste. Taking next week as there will be so few classes. And one week in August since my company closes anyway. Not sure if I'll really get away anywhere next week though as Remi keeps saying something about needing to borrow a neighbor's tractor to clean up a field for the chyrsanthemums. But I'm determined to do something vacation-like.

I continued my walk up the boulevards and started feeling thirsty. But wasn't that my plan all along? To eat my meager lunch then splurge on a soda? Outkast's Hey Ya accompanied me. I looked for a café or bakery but there were only two gas stations, one across from the other. BP was out 'cause I don't think I need to give those guys any more money considering what they're doing to my gulf coast. So I paid more than I should have for a white chocolate Lion bar (think very crunchy nougaty with white chocolate coating, a bit too hard for my taste) and started my walk back to the company. So in the end my love for chocolate won over my thirst.

As I still had time to kill (two hours is long, people), I sat down on a park bench again and did a little people-watching. Then I mosied on back to the company for my afternoon lesson, rested by my mini-vacation within my work day. All in all a pretty pleasant way to spend a few hours.

Gaga for Gaga

No, she's not actually saying Gaga but "Cat-ki" or "cat-cat". That's in response to the ugly hairless cat in the video Bad Romance. I'm surprised she can recognize it's a cat. But she does like the song, too. Have there been any studies done on the effects of Lady Gaga videos on twenty-month olds? Don't worry. She's also got a healthy diet of Wonder Pets DVDs and Dr. Seuss books.

If my life had a soundtrack

One morning a few months ago after strapping Juliette into her car seat I got in myself and turned the ignition. The CD I’d been listening to the night before started playing. The first words were “he is trying to believe, that his life has a meaning.” The group Crowded House, Neil Finn’s graceful moan on Pour le monde. They seemed to be the exact words to describe my state of mind that day (and most days). I had spent a nuit blanche (literally a "white night" or sleepless night) pondering too many things. Like if my life here would ever be what I want or could have back home. If my husband, whom I was miffed at, could really understand how hard it is for me some days. Since that moment, I've felt better, then back down again. Seems to be a cycle with me.

I often wonder what my life would look like on the big screen. Of course they would edit out the boring parts of driving to work everyday and paying bills. Or they would put some funky music on (like that song from the Sliding Doors soundtrack) to do a montage sequence to make it seem fun. And as I made the big, difficult decisions in my life, there would be some upbeat piano music that would tell the audience everything was gonna be alright. But in reality our life has a lot of silent bits where we don’t know the outcome at all. Should there be somber jazzy music (Dire Straits, Your Latest Trick) to tell us we’re moving into a depressing time? There’s nothing to guide us in real life.

Sometimes I try to latch onto a song that could be mantra. It should be Gloria Gaynor’s I will survive. Or Gwen Stefani's What You Waiting For. Some days it’s something more melancholic and poetic. Like Muse’s Sing for Absolution (I know Jessy would approve!) I like to sing along in the car to this one, and sometimes it's as cleansing as a good cry.

But then there are those lighter moments when pop gems like Pixie Lott’s Momma Do lift me into an imaginary existence. The other day I nearly broke into a choreographed dance in the massive hall of the indoor mall when it came on. But lucky for the other mall-goers, I held back.

So readers, what are the songs to your life’s soundtrack?

Guest blogger Jessamyn here

So I arrived last week and once I had hugged bebe a bunch and tried to teach her what a monkey says, Milam and I headed off to see the Muse concert. In our typical worrying ways, we fretted over the best route to take, how much to eat before we left, how many layers of clothes to wear, would JuJu be okay with the sitter (Editor's Note: special thanks to Karine!), but of course all was well.

We found the concert location easily enough and parked along with the thousands of other fans and made our way to our seats. This is where we really got worried. Even though we had paid a pretty penny online for our tickets, it looked like our seats were going to be behind the stage and we wouldn’t be able to see the band. But alas, we were being silly – once Muse started, the sheets covering the three large pillars fell away revealing the band in cages suspended in air. And the pillars became video screens, then moved up and down letting the band members move about on the stage. So all was well. And being the type of concert-goers that we are, the seats were perfect as we could move around and dance and had air circulation so we didn’t pass out from the heat. I don’t know how those mosh-pitters stayed standing for all those hours packed in there.

We met a lovely Irish couple who were sitting next to us – so the four of us danced away to “Uprising,” “Hysteria,” Stockholm Syndrome,” MK Ultra,” and many more. They are great performers and even came out at one point in Halloween costumes (as the concert was on Oct. 31). The lead singer used some occasional French, which the crowd loved and we dutifully sang along when the chorus demanded it. They ended the show with a lovely long version of “Knights of Cydonia.” And that was that. We made our way home and had to come down from the hyperness before we could sleep. It was a great adventure and I’m so glad we did it!

Here's a video of "Time is Running Out" (filmed by Jessamyn)



In other news, Juliette is getting really close to walking. It won’t be long now. And I’m seeing her vocabulary increase. Such a smarty! And of course I’m enjoying French pastries and people who aren’t ashamed of wearing a scarf. Bye now.

The King of Pop and the Queen of Hip-Shaking

Here Juliette pays tribute to Michael Jackson. If you look closely, it's really her moving, not Remi. Just before that she was dancing next to the TV so Remi went on youtube to find the song and get the same effect.

As an aside, I can't really say I was that moved by his death. He was a talented singer and dancer in the past, but he'd become a sad shell of his former self. But that's just me...



And here you see her getting down to Shakira's new song. These songs must have the universal baby rhythm.



Have we got a baby Ginger Rogers on our hands?

The day when everyone's a rocker

Today’s my hundredth post. This blog has been running for over a year now and it’s become an indispensable part of my life. I don’t mean to be overdramatic, but it has helped me rediscover my need to jot down my thoughts and observations. It’s reminded me that I enjoy writing. For years I kept paper journals but it fell by the wayside before this blog. Now I can annoy the world with my little head dramas! Baby’s probably thinking that all humans spend a good part of their lives on the computer. This Mother’s Day card mom sent me is right on the money. I just have to remember the baby is more important than the blog! Of course. But even moms need a little release sometimes.

And what better way to celebrate this event than with a little musique! Today’s the “Fête de la musique or the national music festival in France. It’s one thing this country does pretty well, if you ask me. They purposely put it on the summer equinox, so you’ve also got the added daylight, till about 10:30 here in France. In my city there’s a great ambience with little groups playing on street corners and in front of cafés. Last year my eight-month pregnant self went out with two girlfriends from work since Remi was at a wedding. And I enjoyed it so much I was eager to do it this year, with baby now ex-utero.

The two coworkers weren’t available this year, so I dragged Remi and his friend Julien out to it. The cool band of middle-aged guys was there again playing Midnight Oil and Sweet Home Alabama. Don’t ask about the accent. Most of the lyrics were pretty indistinguishable, but they get an “A” for effort. Even if I am an Alabama girl, I somehow get a little shy when this song comes on, no matter where I am. It’s like I’m supposed to do something, but I’m not sure what.

After a few songs we moved on to another café, outside of which another gray-haired part-time rocker was crooning old French classics. And in front of the oriental restaurant a group of 20-somethings were doing a damn good job on British glam rock. I started head-bopping the minute I heard the guitar riff from Blur’s Song 2. Remi and Julien gave me perplexed side glances. They’re not used to this mild-mannered girl grooving to screechy guitars and drums. Hello!? it’s Blur, dontchaknow?, I tell them afterwards, and they sort of kind of remember it. Then a respectable rendition of Muse’s Time is Running Out, to which I gave Juliette her bottle. Was that a little fist waggling I saw on her part? I must start her musical education now.

The boys left us to go play pool, and baby and I stayed with the glam-rockers for Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Then we dropped back by the first band, in the middle of their Eric Clapton ode, I Shot the Sherriff and Cocaine. I guess I’m showing my age to be digging this type of music. We went to the Place du Théâtre where a group of 14-year-olds was giving it their all on the hook from Smoke on the Water. These kids rocked. Never mind that none of them can drink or drive and that sometimes the drums go all out of order in the middle of a song. I should have brought my camera and taken pictures, ‘cause they’re gonna be big one day. The drummer had the rocker bangs already and the lead singer had put gel in his hair for the spiky effect. And he sang in very impressive English to The Most Loneliest Day of My Life.

But baby’s bedtime was approaching so at a quarter to eight we headed home in the summer sun. Next year she’ll be out of her stroller and dancing on the sidewalks with me.