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Hip-hop or not, you've gotta hear some Negresses Vertes. Got to. J'aime bien, bien, bien les Negresses Vertes.
They've been called the French Pogues, and while they don't really sound much alike (aside from a penchant for acoustic instruments and prominent accordian), the description is apt in that they're one of those groups that seems as much street-gang as band. I love 'em, and my own French is not even that terrific.
There's a real warmth and joy to their playing--on their records you often hear band members laughing, applauding, and shouting encouragement to one another. Gypsy guitars, North African percussion, cabaret squeezebox, snake-charmer melodies, even occasional ska-style horns--the legacy of French colonialism come home to roost in one glorious mash-up.
In terms of language, there are definitely two levels of French in their music. The first two records, Mlah and Famille Nombreuse, are dominated by singer/lyricist Helno, whose syntax (as I understand it) is loose and jivey, difficult to translate--Beat-poet riffing with a dollop of French-Arabic slang. The sound is primarily acoustic, and Helno's vocals are lounge-lizard hammy: the overall vibe is a speed-fuelled 3 AM at a cabaret in downtown Mars.
After Helno's untimely death, the remaining members regrouped, parcelling songwriting and vocal duties out amongst them, and produced ZigZague. It's a great-sounding record, with splashes of funk and rock added to the mix and gritty boy-girl harmonies. The grammar and vocabulary deployed in the lyrics are simpler, more conventional Parisian French than Helno's whacked Marseilles argot.
Their output's been sparse and patchy since then, but these three discs come highly recommended--even if you're not specifically looking for music in French, but just want some kick-ass, high-energy pancultural joycore. |
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