Avez-Vous Vu Les (Bon) Mots?

Back in October I was reading Saturday's Globe and Mail in Montreal, and in the Arts section I chanced upon a book review that would have made me fall off my chair if I wasn't sitting cross-legged on my bed, or shot liquid out my nostrils if I happened to be sucking on a beverage. One topic I seem to have an insatiable appetite for is language history. I own at least 5 biographies of English, and almost bought another a few days ago. Whilst my knowledge of my own language is exemplary, I am effectively ignorant of others. The problem with language is that it dictates access to itself, so whilst histories of English in English are as plentiful as England's land is green and pleasant, histories of other languages in English are somewhat rarer. However, here was a review informing me of a book, a book I had dreamt of but whose existence seemed fanciful, a history of French in English. To say I was pleased would be an understatement. I was ecstatic.

There was one slight problem though, being a new book, The Story Of French was only available in hardcover. Actually, at the time of reading the review the book was not available at all. Obviously, that very day I had hurried down to the Chapters on Rue Sainte-Catherine to search for it, only to be disappointed upon being told it was yet to hit the shelves. It was only a few weeks later, in an East Village Barnes & Noble, did I have to contemplate the dilemma of whether to purchase a hardcover book.
I do actually own two hardcover books; a biography of Suede and Bill Drummond's wryly titled "How To Be An Artist", so I cannot claim to maintain a paperback purity for myself. However, I do find myself more attracted to the ideals of the paperback as opposed to the hardcover. As a strong believer in universal access to education, the hardcover, with its inflated price and inconvenient physicality, seems to be very much opposed to this ideal. That said, it was only about 30 seconds after I first handled the book before I was standing in the queue waiting to pay.

The book consumed me as I consumed it. Hilary would come home from work to find me sitting on the chair in her room grinning like a goose as I read. She would be perplexed to why I would prefer to sit around reading rather than be out exploring New York. But I find this topic endlessly fascinating. My enthusiasm for language change and theory expresses itself physically; it makes me jump, flail my arms and whoop obnoxiously.

What was most intriguing upon reading this book was being able to assess the differences in attitude towards language between English and French. Everyone who has at least some exposure to French would be familiar with the idea of bon usage. This is the belief amongst French-speakers that there is a perfect French that they are constantly in need to strive for. As well as a purity to the language that requires protection. These ideas were part of the reasoning that led to the formation of the Academie Française; an institution designed to maintain the language. The Academie's initial mandate was to standardise the spelling, grammar of the Parisian dialect of the Langues D'Oïl (the northern Romance dialects of the French territory). Paris being the country's political centre, its dialect was the most powerful, and would eventually become Standard French. Standard English evolved in much the same way due to London's political might. After this achievement, however, the Academie became more concerned with language protection and maintenance. What I've always found amusing and rather ironic about this is that French, like all modern languages (with the exception of Esperanto), came to its current state due to the process of language change (either evolution or Creolisation). If Latin had attempted to protect itself in the same way that French does, French would not exist!
Nowadays the Academie makes decisions of what words should be used, and invents new terms for modern concepts. It acts kind of like a gardener, weeding out what is unacceptable and attempting to nourish what it considers the language's best attributes. One interesting thing about French is that it sees little point to synonyms. They are perceived as affecting the clarity of the language. This is in complete opposition to the attitude of English which prides itself on is its synonyms. While French will discourage the adoption of new words, English will beg, borrow, steal, maim and murder to obtain more. English has ransacked other languages to the extent that only 10% - 15% of the modern dictionary consists of words of Anglo-Saxon origin. English's insatiable appetite for new words led it to not only obtain "warranty" from Norman-French, but then go and grab the exact same word from Parisian-French to give it "guarantee" as well (warden and guardian arrive the same way). While French insists on clarity, English is obsessed with adaptability. English's most high profile acquisition of recent years has been the word "schadenfreude". Whilst English can express the concept as "taking pleasure in the pain of others", it saw that German could express the idea in a more succinct fashion and so took the word for itself. Yet English doesn't just take from other languages, some of its most fruitful harvests come from its own dialects. The inventiveness of Afro-American slang is a fertile and constant source of new words for English.
And this is where the Acamdie's task is pointless. Language will never be stagnant. There is no perfect French, because language is always in a state of flux. The same way that English borrows heavily from its own dialects, French does and will do the same. Whilst the psychological impact of bon usage may still be prevalent, it is arguable that its hold on the mindset of African French speakers is less so that on its European and North American speakers. Most French speaking Africans already use septante and nonante (seventy and ninety) instead of the archaic soixante-dix and quartre-vingt-dix. And it is from the slang or argot of France's north and west African immigrant communities that French youth obtain most of their "cool" expressions. Expressions that, over time, will find their way into mainstream usage.

Yet it's not just the francophonie who are seduced by the idea of bon usage. French is still the second most taught language second language despite its declining international status. Although it carries no superior attributes than say, Basque or Zulu (or any other tongue), the ability to speak French still carries the perception of an educational weight. Many West African nations only offer higher education courses in French, rather than their native languages because of this perceived eminence.

I actually finished The Story of French on the train between New York and Chicago several weeks ago, and have been wanting to write something about it ever since. However, like languages themselves, this topic has an immeasurable amount of tangents on which I could have diverged. Attempting to restrain myself to a more succinct piece has been rather difficult. And so it is more than likely that topics of a similar nature will be revisited on this page as my own evolution diverges on its immeasurable possible tangents.

2006: These Things I Believe

It's fast approaching the end of the year, and while for most this is a time to be joyful and merry, for those of us who believe our musical opinion is worthy of promotion, it is a time to make lists.
This year, I have to admit, was the year I fell out of touch. I can no longer claim to be hip to the beat. I am no longer the "go to guy" for cool and interesting music that I used to be (or used to think I was). And so I must admit that this year's list doesn't excite me that much. I feel it's a rather conservative selection of music, very pop-centric and indicative of my lack of effort this year to attempt to discover new and innovative sounds. I'm positive there are amazing albums out there that I've missed, and even albums you'd expect me to have listened to but I didn't (The Decemberists). This is far from a definitive list of albums of 2006, it's merely the best of what I purchased this year. That said, it still does include some great albums. Do yourself a favour.

20. Mogwai - Mr Beast
Mogwai's 6th album proper (not including EPs, remix albums and compilations) was, to me, their least interesting. Alan McGee (surprisingly their manager now) was proclaiming it was the greatest art rock album since My Bloody Valentine's "Loveless", but it wasn't. It's still Mogwai though, and their very existence deserves kudos.

19. Thom Yorke - The Eraser
2006 was not only the year I lost touch, but also the year I joined the chorus and decided that Thom Yorke whines too much. Previously I'd been aghast trying to explain to all and sundry that "No, you don't get it, he just has a really dark sense of humour, and the vocal delivery is part of the joke!". But with this, his first "solo" (apparently we're not allowed to call it that) album, I did start to think "Yeah, maybe he does whine a bit too much". Musically the album is quite excellent though, even if glitchy beats went out of style in 2003 (don't worry Thom, I still dig 'em as well).

18. I Am Robot And Proud - The Electricity In Your House Wants to Sing
Toronto native Shaw-Han Liem has one of the coolest/cutest monikers in I Am Robot And Proud and his (early) Múm-esque instrumental lush electronic pop suits it just fine. This is the perfect Springtime album, but as I didn't have a Spring this year (I had two Autumns instead) it didn't get nearly enough of a...umm... rotation on my laptop(?).

17. The Hidden Cameras - Awoo
This was the album where Joel Gibb decided that "less is more". He took away the orchestra, the choir and the overt homosexuality, yet unfortunately he was wrong. While the album does contain some great pop melodies, the album is just not that awesome slap in the face (or on the arse) that "The Smell Of Our Own" was.

16. TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
Just because Kyp Malone has the best afro since OJ Simpson in "Naked Gun 2 1/2: The Smell Of Fear", it doesn't make TV On The Radio the coolest band in the world. The hype this year for this band was almost as omnipresent and suffocating as the current smoke haze that has enveloped Melbourne. That said, this still was a pretty good album. "A Method" has a whistling melody equal to that of Peter, Bjorn and John's "Young Folks". David Sitek may be a bit too self-satisfied with his (supposed) innovative abilities, but Tunde Adibempe is one smooth mutha on the microphone.

15. Stereolab - Fab Four Suture
I wish to go on record stating the "Cobra and Phases Groop Play Voltage In The Milky Night" is Stereolab's best album. How you like them apples? All you people who think that anything post "Emperor Tomato Ketchup" or "Mars Audiac Quartet" is rubbish are morons, that is when the band started to get interesting! I like albums like "Peng!" and "The Groop Played "Space-Age Bachelor Pad Music" just fine, but I love "Dots and Loops", the aforementioned "Cobra and Phases...." and "Sound Dust" and I also really dig "Fab Four Suture". Although lacking the consistency of some of their previous albums, tracks like "Interlock" and "Get A Shot Of The Refrigerator" are as good "Miss Modular" or "The Free Design" or even, dare I say, "Ping Pong". Ha!

14. Malajube - Trompe L'Oiel The population demographics of Montreal are thus: 54% Francophone, 28% Allophone (having neither French nor English as a mother tongue) and 18% Anglophone. 50% of that 18% of Anglophones are known as "hipsters" and are either in bands or think they are in bands. Actually, this isn't true. The majority of hipsters in Montreal are not permanent residents, they're imports from the rest of Canada and will be gone as soon as they get too fat for their skinny jeans. Malajube, however, are locals and while musically they sound like every other Canadian band du jour, the sing in French and so I don't have to be shy about liking them.

13. Final Fantasy - He Poos Clouds
The title track concerns Owen Pallett's sexual interest in Link from the Zelda game. You see, Owen is not just a computer game nerd, he is a classically trained, game-obsessed, completely awesome, gay, super-nerd! When he's not fighting robots in far off galaxies, or arranging strings for The Arcade Fire, he's making his own wonderful pop gems. The track "This Lamb Sells Condos" contains the best line of the year "...and his massive genitals refused to cooperate."

12. El Perro Del Mar - El Perro Del Mar
That Swedish education system must be something else. As well as making Swedes some of the most learned and worldly people, it also seems to be able to teach them how to write amazing pop songs. Sarah Assbring attaches her wrly miserable lyrics to gorgeous girl-group melodies and arrangements to make Nordic seasonal disorder seem like the coolest thing ever (no pun intended).

11. The Research - Breaking Up "Twee" is such a harsh word. So what if Russell Searle sits with his crappy casio on his lap and sings his self-deprecating songs of love lost while his female band-mates "la la la" in the background? It doesn't make it... ok, well it does make it twee, but it doesn't make it a crime.

10. Destroyer - Destroyer's Rubies
There's a drinking game that involves listening to a Destroyer album and taking a shot whenever Dan Bejar makes a reference to either another Destroyer song or album, or a New Pornographers song, or mentions a girl's name or a myriad of other reoccurring themes that he writes about. Dan is indie-rock's greatest wordsmith (sorry Colin Meloy), and his dramatic mock-Bowie delivery suits his verbose verses perfectly. Although, it seems strange that for such a gifted writer that almost every chorus on this album consists of nothing but him singing "la la la" or "ba-da-di-da". Although maybe that's the point?

9. The Fiery Furnaces - Bitter Tea
Oh, I momentarily forgot about the Friedberger siblings when declaring Dan Bejar indie-rock's greatest wordsmith. Whilst "Bitter Tea" lacks the glorious ridiculousness of "Blueberry Boat", it still has enough bat-shit crazy pop gems such as "Nevers!", "Benton Harbour Blues" and "Waiting To Know You" for me to bestow some other over-zealous and highly subjective title upon them. I think I'll just go with "Geniuses".

8. I'm From Barcelona - Let Me Introduce My Friends
"I'm going to sing a song with all of my friends and we're I'm From Barcelona". In fact they weren't from Barcelona at all, but Jönköping in Sweden. There was 28 of them and they made some of the most wonderfully upbeat naïve pop songs this side of The Wiggles. Oversleeping, building treehouses, collecting stamps, making mix-tapes, whatever your interest there was a song here for you. Pity they all look like a bunch of Vice Magazine rejects though.

7. The Blow - Paper Television
It would be too much effort for me to compile a list of my favourite tracks of the year, but if I was to do so both "Parentheses" and "Fists Up" would be in the top ten, possibly even top 5. And if "Pile Of Gold" didn't sound like it was some Berlin anthem that got lost in 2003 and ended up in Olympia in 2006 it would be up there as well. This album also contains the most fun line to sing along to of the year - "I guess I'm on the long list of girls who loves the shit out of you, whoa!"

6. The Pipettes - We Are The Pipettes
Even if their music sucked I would love this band. Shit, I had a picture of Rose on my desktop before I'd even heard a single note. Luckily for me they are completely awesome. Dare I say "Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me" and "Pull Shapes" were the two best singles of the year? Apart from the fact that the early demo version of "It Hurts To See You Dance So Well" is vastly superior to the version that appeared on the album, oh and the recording of the title track sucked as well, this was an almost flawless pop album. Be gone with you, naysayers! Sure they had a gimmick, but that just added to their complete awesomeness.

5. Love Is All - Nine Times That Same Song
Usually my rules would dictate that as this album was released in Sweden last year it can't be included in this year's list. However, just this once I plan on breaking the rules as I didn't purchase it until it was released in the UK in January. That, and the fact that it just too astonishingly good to leave out. I really liked this album, but after seeing them in Montreal I decided that I absolutely loved it. It's the dance-punk (with a Riot Grrl residue) party album of the century! Ever! They have a saxophonist who looks like a Swedish Stephen Merchant. Come on!

4. Belle & Sebastian - The Life Pursuit
This almost escaped the list due to me thinking that because I had an illegal download of it back last November, that it was actually released last year. The hardcore B&S fans didn't seem to rate "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" too highly, however I am unsure of how they view "The Life Pursuit". That said, I don't really care because A) I am the hardcore and my opinion supercedes anyone who claims to be more hardcore than me and B) It's a completely awesome album. The fact that the band's songs now funk and groove shouldn't dissuade anyone more accustomed to their earlier fey and restrained songs, they are still just as witty and charming. This album returned to being predominantly written by Stuart, which I think we can all agree on is a good thing.

3. Joanna Newsom - Ys
The way I've been ranting a raving previously on this blog you'd have thought this album would be my number 1 of the year for sure. Well, although it is fucking incredible and I maintain the urge to mow down anyone whose ignorance states otherwise, it just didn't receive enough listens compared to the following two albums. That said, holy shit, on ambition alone this album should be receiving Noble and Pulitzer prizes, Olympic gold medals and motherfucking sainthood. With "The Milk-Eyed Mender" the harp was the gimmick; "Oh isn't she quaint playing a harp", but it's her lyrics that are the draw with "Ys". I want to quote, but I shall restrain myself, and where would I start anyway? Where would I start!?

2.Danielson - Ships
From the Danielson Famile to Br. Danielson to now just Danielson, Daniel Smith and his merry band of brothers, sisters, in-laws and friends have made some of the most joyously skewed weirdo Christian pop songs of the last few years. That sentence seems a bit odd seeming I'd say that they are the only band making joyously skewed weirdo Christian pop. This is the album where Daniel got a little more mature and focused in his arrangements. The songs are still ramshackle by most people's standards, but don't feel like they're about to completely fall apart like on previous albums. The opening four tracks on this album are just so ridiculously good, in fact if anyone can think of a greater opening four songs to any album ever I will eat my hat. Remember everyone: "Be just who you're made to be Pappa is so mighty pleased with thee"

1. Camera Obscura - Let's Get Out Of This Country
It wasn't just Daniel Smith who was maturing this year, Camera Obscura went from being a pretty decent Belle & Sebastian tribute band to being a completely awesome, time to drop the comparisons, über-pop band with this their third album. "Lloyd, I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" is one of the most charming pop songs I've ever heard. And the album danced as well! Where previously the band may have shuffled and tapped their feet a little, now they were writing dance-floor fillers, the aforementioned "Lloyd..." and "If Looks Could Kill" were bound to get any party started. "Come Back Margaret", "Let's Get Out Of This Country", "I Need All The Friends I Can Get" and the gorgeous "Razzle Dazzle Rose" were all killer pop songs. The album has no dud moments whatsoever and I would marry Traceyanne Campbell in two seconds flat.

Sunday Keeps On Rolling

With some exceptional timing I’ve been staying back at my old flat in Carlton. Early last week Georgie moved into the building next door, and with a few weeks left on the lease she has kindly allowed Amy and I to camp in her old flat (the flat I lived in up until July when I left the country). The flat is in the greatest location in the city; two blocks north of the city centre, and a skip though the Carlton Gardens to all the hip and happening hang-outs in Fitzroy. The only downside is that being accustomed to the area when Amy and I do find a place we will no doubt be slightly deflated by it not being as convenient.

Traditionally, Sunday is the day I go visit my parents. Having sold my Daewoo before leaving the country in July, I now make my way there via public transport. So it’s back on the old Glen Waverley Line. It’s been 6 years since I’ve had to catch this line, but I still know every detail of it intimately. The line runs along the public school belt and is usually packed with Scotch, St. Kevin’s and De La Salle boys, Korowa and Sacré Coeur girls, and co-eds from Wesley and Caulfield Grammar. During the week this would be a most fearful experience for me. Although I am now 27 years old, in the presence of school kids I revert back to my 15 year-old self. The year 12 boys are all taunts and fists to me, while being 19 and a half before I first spoke to a girl, the school girls are entirely and frightening alien. Luckily for me, being a Sunday, the school kids weren’t around. Another benefit of it being Sunday was the “Sunday Super-Saver”. It’s only been in the last two weeks that I’ve discovered this ticket. For only two and half coins you can purchase a ticket that is valid all day Sunday in any zone! It is wonderful. A daily Zone 1 and 2 ticket is a hefty nine coin seventy. 6 days of the week one would only require a Zone 1 and 2 ticket to get to my parents place, however on a Sunday things are slightly askew.
Usually there are three buses that I could potentially take after arriving at Glen Waverley; the 754, 753 or the 850. However, on Sundays there is no service on either the 754 or 753, which only leaves the 850. I would usually shy away form the 850 as it goes into Zone 3, whilst the 753 and 754 buses remain in Zone 2 up until where I need to depart. This is where the Sunday Super-Saver truly proves its worth as it enables me to travel on the 850 without having to purchase another ticket. Unfortunately, on a Sunday, the 850 only runs once every hour (on the hour), and on this day the train I caught arrived at the station just a couple of minutes past the hour. Now you’d think with missing the 850 that I would be stranded, but there was one more option available. The 888 runs straight along Springvale Road from Nunawading to Chelsea. The bus is a pillar of the south-eastern suburbs public transport network. While the route may not have the fancy twists and turns of some of the other routes, it has a certain stoic distinction to its mandate. Rain, hail or shine the 888 will always be ploughing back and forth along Springvale Road. It is one of those reassuring constants that remind you that the world is in balance.
So rather than wait another hour for the next 850, I jumped the 888 to the Brandon Park Shopping Centre. This is still some distance from my parents place so you have to slip on your walking shoes and follow Brandon Park Drive up to Cootamundra, jut around into Farnham, skip through Lum Reserve and you’re up the top of my parents street – Phoenix Drive. It’s a good forty minute walk, but a pleasant one.

The Chapter In Your Life Titled.....

A few weeks ago I was in an East Village Barnes & Noble searching out books to take on my train trip when I had something of a revelation about the progress of my life. It was more a feeling than a concrete clear and purposeful idea, and it carried no real insight, but whilst flicking through the latest issue of The Believer I believed that I had the impetus for achievement and the desire to keep myself constructively occupied. Now this may sound like some ridiculous hippie self-help bullshit, but for a compulsive procrastinator with chronic self-doubt being constantly en marche is essential.
In order to facilitate this new-found attitude, as well as providing material to occupy me during my train ride, I purchased a book by Rory Stewart detailing his walk across Afghanistan following in the footsteps of the 15th Century emperor Babur. I thought the juxtaposition of reading this book whilst riding a train across the US was rather amusing. It was basically an attempt to prove a point to those who thought my train ride was “insane”. I also purchased Reza Aslan's “No god But God: The Origins, Evolution and Future of Islam” I figured with the Democrats controlling both the House and the Senate, I should really get to know the religion of our soon-to-be overlords (should probably enrol in Arabic classes at the CAE as well). Also I feel my knowledge base is very Caucasian-centred and need to expand it.
This may come across like I’m trying to portray myself as having some insatiable thirst for knowledge. But a more accurate assessment would be that I have a fear being uninformed. I’m extremely self-conscious about my lack of university education and I believe that one way around this is to read non-fiction. Another, more helpful, way is to actually attend university, which is my intention in the new year.

Whilst in the bookstore I may have been upbeat, my return to Melbourne hasn’t gone as I expected. There weren't crowds of people bearing palm leaves lining the Tullamarine Freeway as I made my way from the airport. Maybe I wasn’t as popular here in Melbourne as I perceived, or maybe my popularity waned during my absence, but I think I may have over-estimated the reception I’d receive upon my return.
I must admit that my behaviour in the last week hasn’t done anything to rectify this situation. I’ve destroyed one very dear friendship with my perpetual confusion and utter stupidity, become a highly annoying pest to others and thrown a tantrum at the State Library because I could access my Gmail through their wireless service.

Amy and I went to see The Lucksmiths last night. I was just thinking about The Lucksmiths the other day when I jumped the Sandringham Line (the name of a song of theirs) to Prahran. Much of my yearning to be overseas has stemmed from the Australian cultural cringe, I’ve never been comfortable with my national identity. However upon deciding to return to Melbourne I did feel a strong desire to attempt to embrace the city.
The fact is I have always loved Melbourne, I’ve just hated its association with the rest of the country. Whenever overseas, if asked where I am from, I always say “Melbourne” rather than “Australia” in the vain belief that the person asking the question would be aware of the distinction.
The Lucksmiths are able to transcend all the cliché and stereotypes about the country and portray Melbourne as it is. Their songs are the sound of the section of Fitzroy bordered by Alexandra Parade, Brunswick, Smith and Johnston Streets. They are Victorian bungalows and London Planes buckling the asphalt. While this imagery is lovely and reassuring, it had the unfortunate effect of providing unrealistic dreams for Amy and I in our house-hunting. It would be extremely desirable for us to be able to find a lovely house in an agreeable and convenient area, however budget constraints and sizable competition are hampering this ideal.

And so at present my New York revelation has become somewhat deflated. I'm homeless, jobless and once again feeling rather stagnant.