padam luv, michael

I wish people could still make the music that edith piaf made. unfortunately, this is impossible. it's so full of life and pomp and it all seemed effortless. the grandeur and the simplicity of the lines, the largeness of the choruses, the total "everybody join in, now!" endings. the pure warbling beauty that is her voice alone.  it is all so deliciously french, from the horns to the strings to the attitude. in fact, maybe it's just plain delicious. music you can listen to, dance to, fall in love to. and, seriously, no one can roll their r's like edith. check la foule for that shit. I was introduced to her music through the miraculously perfect acting that was marion cotillard in 2007's la mome aka la vie en rose. the striking grandiosity of the music juxtaposed with the frantic mess that was piaf's life drew me in like lil hipster bitches to a panda bear show. she kind of talk-sings and then she belts(!) and then she kind of meanders along, indulging the audience (and herself) and then she growls and then she sings. that woman could do anything with her voice; she could take it anywhere. 

and I would follow.