We’re watching the demise of Mitch McConnell and Ted Cruz and Rand Paul and Jim Jordan and Josh Hawley in real time as politicians. May take a year or two before their done done. But remember how horrible they all are in this moment and then how they try to soften themselves soon
So this past Monday I'm making dinner (enchiladas, one of the specialties at Chez Emaycee), and as I was planning on writing this post that evening, I was thinking about what I wanted to say about this week's song when poof! the lights went out and it would be more than 48 hours before we saw the light (so to speak) again. Which is why last week's Friday Night Jukebox is just a wee bit late....
A couple of years back I was browsing the internet when I came across a piece asking if anyone remembered a plethora of hits from the seventies, and I thought, "Moi?" Like there's anything better than a trip down the musical memory lane. Surprisingly, there were four or five that I did not recall (the seventies were the decade when my musical evolution began), with this week's tune being one of them. All it took was one--count 'em, one--listen and I knew that I'd struck musical gold.
We have a first this week, as Plastic Bertrand (aka, Roger Francois Jouret) is the first Belgian artist to be featured here on FNJ. Plastic Bertrand has had a hell of a career as a musician, composer, and television star. Unfortunately, in 2010 he admitted that he had sung zero of the songs on his first four albums (including this week's song), and that they were in fact sung by his producer, Lou Deprijck. Ah, well, if you look it up, he's still the credited artist so we're just going to say, "Fuck it!' and move on. For his musical career, Plastic Bertrand has released ten studio albums, nine compilations (oh, the joys of having a hit record!), and 44 singles. He remains an active artist, though the last time Wikipedia has him doing anything of note in the entertainment industry was in 2007.
Fun Fact: Plastic Bertrand represented the country from which my family immigrated to America, Luxembourg, in the 1987 Eurovision Song Contest. Alas, he got as much love as Luxembourgers are generally accustomed to, finishing 21st out of 22 contestants.
"Ca Plane Pour Moi" was released as a single the year I graduated from high school, 1977, on Plastic Bertrands, ahem, debut album, An 1. It would reach the top ten in ten different countries, including #1 in France (so many cool kids in France!) and Switzerland (ditto!). Here in America, the song hit #47 (with a bullet!). The album reached #2 in France but didn't have much chart success anywhere else.
"Ca Plane Pour Moi" (roughly translates as "Things are going good for me") is either French punk or a parody of the punk movement in general, depending on who's describing it. The one thing everyone seems to agree on (including Joe Strummer of the Clash, who called it "...a bloody good record that will get any comatose person top-tapping...") is that it's a hell of a song. It exudes euphoria from its beginning to its end, though nowhere more pronounced than in the chorus which in addition to the melodically intoxicating repetition of the title phrase, features an echoic "moi, moi, moi, moi" and an "ooh-woo-ooh-ooh" to end all ooh-woo-ooh-ooh's. And the fact that you understand exactly two lines in the song (it's all in French except for a line of English that's basically repeated twice) makes absolutely no difference! It's one of those songs that every time I hear it, I know that all the time I've spent throughout my life searching for songs far and wide was worth every. single. minute. A bloody good record, indeed.
Lyric Sheet: "You are the king of the divan!/Qu'elle mi dit en passant ooh-woo-ooh-ooh/I am the king of the divan/Ca plane pour moi..."
The average American gets paid just enough so he doesn't quit his job, and works just hard enough so he doesn't get fired.
"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross." Source unknown
Uncle emaycee Wants You For the Coming Class War! Enlist today....
Capitalism: Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you can exploit his labor, become filthy rich, and keep the poor bastard living paycheck to paycheck for the rest of his life.
