Also, you know what? I'm so damned tired of "lyrics" in "English" and their terrible lack of a. lyricism and b. poeticism and c. any positive qualities whatsoever. Fuck English music! It sounds awful, in general!
There's some stuff that I like, but good lord, I am so tired of reading lyrics somewhere and going "look, it's wangst." Or "Look, here I am posturing." Boring rhythms, stupid autotuning, nothing important to say, so many "love songs" that don't give me any interest in falling in love with the singer. And that's not just because they aren't about math, it's because they're so damnably ugly.
Not the singers. The music itself.
I even prefer the stuff like "Aicha" and "Ils s'aiment comme avant," and that stuff is... well, it's not very good. At the very least, it's old-fashioned. Even "lapin au sesame," which is about eating rabbits with sesame seeds. And "La place des grandes hommes." And all of Faudel's weird Algerian/French music videos...
What happened to "rhymes for the eye?" What happened to Hugo's spiders and fountains of exuberant prose--even the terrible Hernani, in its glasslike perfection? What happened to interesting diction, and poeticism, and piccardy thirds when you want them? What happened to my beloved Baudelaire and Ponge? Prose poems? The difference between feminine and masculine rhymes, carefully examined, and not just in terms of hypercatalexis and so on--other things. What about the building, edifice, the cathedral, the bitching about the parvenus, the careful ribbing of the BCBG, the complaints about religion, my dear flights of existentialism? Camus and his longing for Algerie, Sartre and his nausea, Giraudoux and his terror of war?
What about all of that? Where is that?
RRRRRRAUUUUGH!
I just can't stand it!
... Actually, I feel a lot better now. Huh.
Oh, I know what's wrong. I've hardly spoken French or read any of her beautiful literature for the past two years, and it's making the part of me which adores France very sad and lonely. I've even been writing in my diary in French recently. But there's no one to talk about France with!
That, and I really, really miss the passion of Professor Poland.
*sigh*
Spring break starts in two days. When I hit it, I'm binging.