They’re a bit weird, you know. They don’t wash their hair frequently, they blow up tropical islands for fun, their president is a playboy. They just do it differently over there. They’re a croissant et caffe au lait short of a dozen, you know.
And you think, hey, I can forgive them their idiosyncrasies. Because they make the best electronic music on the planet. And some of the best hip-hop too. Then they enter Sebastian Tellier in the Eurovision song contest. ‘What a master-stroke’ you think. The French are planning to vanquish the ‘Vision this year by entering one of the most talented electronic musicians to ever wave the tricolour. Genius. Performing a song produced by one half of Daft Punk. Bam. It’s gonna be Eurovision-demolition. No Hard Rock Hallelujahs, just Sexuality.
You think it might even be worth tuning in this year. But then you read this..
Eurovision song sparks French row (BBC)
And then you read this..
Tellier surrenders to French Eurovision demands (Guardian)
And all you can do is slap your forehead in comical bemusement. Silly, silly French politicians. English is spoken by more people anyway. Stick that in your post-colonial pipe and play God Save the Queen on it. And most winning Eurovision songs are in English anyway - remember Hard Rock Hallelujah? I do. It’s seared in to my memory in ways that will never heal.
Silly, silly French politicians. Do something useful with yourselves. Go set fire to some Citroens or something.
Keep making awesome music, France. If we elected leaders based on their musical prowess Daft Punk would chair the UN and Gaspard would be pope. Hey, his English makes about as much sense as Popey. And if you squint he sort of looks like the pope too. If the pope was in a biker gang. Or Chopper Reid.
On a completely unrelated note: Thanks Discobelle. Love this one.
