Plus ça change...

The first half of 2007 is well past nigh, which means, among other things, one is now permitted to order office supplies again. But what to make of this newfound fuzzy feeling of wonderment towards those who live outside Big Swampy? That many wingnuts? Wait. What's that? Bigwig Dems issued various writs of righteous indignation but have no discernable plans to say what actually transpired? Whew! And let's not even mention the I-word. Shhh! Virgin ears, and all that. So the song does always remain the same?






Since we're on the subject, one more thing that always keeps its air of permanence is that greatest of art forms, music. Sounds fade into silence once the power is turned off or the instrument is put down, but the feeling and memory associated with that series of notes and chords just heard continues to resonate. For this guy, the unquestioned album of the month for June was The Language of Love by Duo Trobairitz. On this, their debut, Faye Newton and Hazel Brooks skillfully bring 12th and 13th century France to life. Brooks' sweet, yet sinewy vielle highlights and strengthens Newton's soprano in tales of courtly and pastoral love. Her voice soars, yet never overwhelms; it's strikingly reminiscent of Vivien Ellis' work with Sinfonye and the Dufay Collective. There's nary a moment that drags throughout its hour-plus playing time. The anonymous Bele Doette, for example, pushing a prog-like nine minutes, flies by effortlessly. Though spiced with the occasional moment of medieval humor, the songs beautifully presented on this disc are of an idealized world of rarely fulfilled, often heartbreaking stories of that most treasured, alluring and frustrating of human emotions. And, unlike the fucking wankers who are running this country into the ground with impunity, they don't make me want to punch holes in the wall .