Chanson du jour #50

You - Mayor McCa

Un jour, une histoire #1

Extrait de Naïve. Super. D'Erlend Loe.

The Tree:

Tonight I’m thinking about my grandfather. A few weeks ago he told me a story. It’s a story about a good world. My grandparents live in a yellow wooden house they built a long time ago. They have a big garden that they’ve always spent a lot of time on. Flowers and trees and bushes mean a lot to them. They know all the names and when things are supposed to be planted and when they have to be watered and pruned. They often talk about plants and give flowers to friends and family. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. When they built the house, my grandfather planted an apple tree. At the bottom of the garden. I have never seen that tree. It was gone when I was born. But I’ve heard about it. When the tree had grown for many years, it started to yield apples. A lot of apples. My grandmother used to make juice and preserves from the apples. It was a good apple tree. But then something happened. It had been a good summer and the apples were nice and big. They were about to be picked. But one morning, the tree had been destroyed. Several thick branches were lying on the ground. My grandfather said it looked bad. It would never grow apples again. The tree was going to die. My grandfather went inside to give my grandmother the sad news. Then he took off his work clothes, put on something more appropriate, and went down the lane past the cemetery and down to the college. There he spoke to the principal. The college acted, and after some time three young students came forward. They had been out pinching apples and things had got a little out of control. They had very guilty consciences. It was a prank. Not a big thing, but serious enough. And both my grandfather and the principal were concerned with sorting things out fair and square. A new apple tree cost 150 kroner in those days. It was agreed that the boys should pay for a new tree. It was agreed that the boys should pay for a new tree. They would pay 50 kroner each. My grandfather told me it was a lot of money back then. The boys would pay a weekly sum the rest of that autumn and well into spring, until everything was paid back and they were even. My grandfather had himself been to that college and he knew the boys didn’t have a lot to get by on. They were boarders, some of them were far away from home and their families had already dug deep into their pockets in order to send them to college. They had to take the money for the apple tree out of their allowances. That probably meant any expensive and boyish activities had to be limited considerably. They could hardly buy anything, not go to the cinema, not treat the girls to a soda, pretty much nothing at all. Every Saturday the boys came dejectedly to my grandparents’ door to pay. They said very little. They just held out their hands and dropped the coins into my grandfather’s huge palm. He nodded gravely and confirmed thereby that things were going the way they should. It went on that way. Winter came and went, and then spring. In May the garden was once again in bloom and the polytechnic was about to go on vacation. The boys were going home for summer. When they came by for the last time, they were all dressed up. It was something of an occasion for them. They rang the doorbell and my grandmother invited them in. She had made coffee and waffles. The boys were served and they made the last payment and shook my grandparents’ hands. The case was closed. The boys were relieved. They cheered up, and for the first time they talked with my grandparents. They told them about school and summer. They told them where they came from. Their faces were happy. The debt was paid. They were cleansed and could finally hold their heads high. After a while the boys got up to leave. Goodbyes were said, and they walked towards the door. Then my grandfather got up. Hang on, he said, there was one more thing. And the boys stopped. My grandfather crossed the floor. He went over to the big kitchen dresser and opened it. He stuck his hand deep inside it and came out with three envelopes. Then he walked over to the boys and gave one to each of them. The boys couldn’t quite understand. They looked at each other. Then they opened the envelopes and tears started running down their cheeks. My grandfather had given them their money back. […] I’m thinking about the boys. They’re grown-ups today. Probably over fifty years old. They must have had thee feeling that the world was good. That things fitted together. That something meant something. I wonder what they are doing now. They probably have families themselves, and gardens with apple trees. My grandfather is a really good guy. I wonder whether I am a really good guy. I wonder whether there are any really good guys at all in my generation.

Album du jour #2

Si l'on me demandait un jour de faire un top 10 de mes albums préférés, tout genre confondu, je crois que je serais bien dans la merde... J'y ferais probablement figurer L'Histoire de Melody Nelson, Kind Of Blue, The Velvet Underground & Nico ou encore The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust... Et puis ? Ok Computer ? Daydream Nation ? Is This It ? Richard D. James ? Homogenic ? The Queen Is Dead ? Tri Repetae ?

Franchement, ça serait un vrai calvaire. D'ailleurs, parmi les disques suscités, ça manque franchement de Hip-Hop. En fait, si je ne devais faire qu'un top 10 de mes albums de rap préférés, je serais déjà bien dans la merde. Mais une chose est certaine, j'y ferais figurer The Cold Vein de Cannibal Ox.

Formé de deux MC's de Brooklyn - Vast Aire et Vordul - le groupe a fait la gloire et la renommée du label underground indépendant Def Jux. En effet, c'est sur ce label, créé par El-P (ex-Company Flow) que sortira The Cold Vein en 2001. C'est d'ailleurs ce dernier qui en assurera l'entière (et excellente) production. Entre guitares saturées, orgues imposants et autres sonorités électroniques, le flow et les textes de notre duo nous projettent dans un New-York froid et apocalyptique, presque cyber-punk. L'atmosphère que dégage cet album est absolument géniale. Du premier titre (Iron Galaxy), au dernier (Scream Phoenix), jamais l'intensité ne faiblit.

Du coup, j'ai réécouté The Cold Vein dernièrement et, une fois n'est pas coutume, j'ai repris la même claque qu'à l'époque. Je n'étais alors qu'un jeune lycéen, naïf et insouciant... Et lorsqu'est arrivé A B-Boys Alpha, j'ai aimé répéter avec Vast Aire cette punchline magnifique (mais probablement peu raffinée): "My mother said: you sucked my pussy when you came out".

Chanson du jour #49

Us - Regina Spektor