Serge Gainsbourg - Requiem pour un con: youtube.com/watch?v=07O7GTk3hKQ&feature=related
There are some things you just can't escape.
I had been going to see a friend regularly at his work. He was becoming a mentor of sorts, telling me about his touring days, advising and sharing admiration for the sounds we both heard though separate. He mentioned Joanna Newsom every time I saw him and in the papers sometimes.
"This song has the best drum sound I've ever heard. Do you know anyone making a hip-hop album? Because they should sample this." I didn't. It was one of the last times I'd see him.
In months, Katie sat next to me in the library. She lightly played with her pen, between her fingers, as I told her about a song. She leaned back against the wall.
"You speak French right? What is he saying?" I told her what I could understand. There was a lot I couldn't catch, though, for I'm out of practice and it all seemed like such simple and ridiculous language for such a sophisticated and cool song. Later that day Katie drew a picture for me, something simple, and I kept it with me for years. It was herself, a line swirling forward from her face and to the right.
Toronto. Julia asked me if she could make me a mixed CD. I said of course, of course. "There's a couple of our songs I want you to hear." And it was on there. It was the seventh song in the list of twenty among so much Pavement, Vashti Bunyan and her own bands songs. It stood out strangely, unappealing.
But only ever in this context.
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