Speaking of things continental, there's been some discussion about how us enlightened northern brits see our relationship with mainland europeans. Our philosophy department here in sheffield's getting a healthy turnover of fun young european philosophers, and it's been interesting to work out how best to play the good host. But both Albert and Pepé (who've recently returned to Spain) commented how refreshing it is to be in a place where other people tend to leave you alone; under the title of 'respecting privacy' it seems that british reservation can be a welcome quality. I was left wishing that I'd been more engaging / inclusive / gregarious around these guys, but perhaps (it transpires) that's just a misplaced desire to emulate what I'd perceived to be a closer and more fraternal continental style of relationship. And it's probably a false conception, coming from a sort of mistaken and romantic idea I have about cultures with better cafes having better conversations/alists.
Still, convinced that I don't merely mistakenly fetishize foreignness, I went and delved through a stack of records I bought at various markets around Normandy four years ago. Aznavour 'as solutions, duetting with a mate (or himself?) about how he doesn't ever want to forget his amies, his amoures, nor his emmerdes.
Charles Aznavour - Mes Emmerdes
No opportunity for many emmerdes with Glemor as I can't even get more than a few words at a time out of him, his accent's a bit too strong for my peasant-French. But this is a record about which I have no conceptions, and so no misconceptions, and about which I have only the slightest romance, given I bought it on the strength of the cover alone and was happy to discover that the photo is an accurate representation of the sound within.
Glenmor - Vous Donne
It's a unified and enigmatic package. Serious eyes in a face that droops wearily (wisely?) Is Glemor smiling? Is Glenmor friendly? Does Glenmor tell the truth?
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