Pop Music

‘Everybody’s got to learn sometime,’ cover Jean-Philippe Verdin/Readymade FC (Lol film soundtrack, EMI/Capitol, 2009)

Reasons to appreciate this cover: the voice, I’m touched by the way he sings these familiar words, this such a familiar song, the French-accented inflections on the word ‘heart’ with that emphasised final consonant (and off phrasing at times, the stretched vowel on ‘it’ as in ‘it will astound you …’ which makes it seem more genuine) and then how the music changes just over half-way to include surprising sound effects, a kind of controlled improvisation that sounds almost animal-like.

Something I’ve been thinking about recently is how so often the arrangements in soul music from the 60s/70s are eccentric, including sounds and/or riffs on sounds that serve no apparent purpose, other than to provide decoration and embellishment, as a kind of caprice. Such additions add to the overall effect, but are not essential. They either add to the sweeping orchestral impressiveness, or are touching and unexpected: amateur in the best possible way, in the true sense of the word. There is great joy to be found in this, in the revelling in freedom and abundance, via the addition of beautiful, unexpected and surprising details and turns in the music. Much the same could be said for the electronic musings that emerge in the latter half of this song that are quite different to the music that preceded it.

Verdin’s cover appeared on the soundtrack to the French film, Lol. Here is a link to the French musician/composer's site, categories: Albums & Singles, Scores & Soundtracks, Productions, arrangements, Akzidenz Grotesk, Remixes & Versions. Beck also did a cover of the song for the 2004 film soundtrack for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which is lovely if a little bland and lacking any particular point of difference to the original. 

The original by The Korgis came out in 1980: according to my favourite free online factopedia ‘the unique sounding instrument played after each chorus is the 18 string Chinese zither known as a guzheng’.  

‘Eternel été’ Ezechiel Pailhès (Circus Company, 2017)

“Au milieu de l'hiver, j'ai découvert en moi un invincible été.”

Albert Camus

Purposefully slowed down to create a sleepwalking mood, part little girl’s music box with the spinning ballerina, part disco echo, this song traverses the borderline between the overly sweet to create its own musical headspace that is forever holding back.

Linking the consonants so as to create new words, new meanings – the title could suggest a new noun that doesn’t exist in French, the way North Americans add ‘ess’ or ‘ful’ to create new words – the eternalness, perhaps (even if a word already exists for eternity, of course).

Shy, older uncle singing and a rubber-band beat to become a distended hand-clap or basic tambour, this song is lovely in its musical lyricism and ambiguity, making statements with no apparent connection between them, words that I mishear – trop ardent becomes an expression of apology on first hearing, rather than denuded intensity. The centre does not hold.

The corny guitar element at just before two minutes is intentional, but alright because it’s appreciated for what it is; the ironic effect is held within a certain sphere of gentle sincerity.