This is going to be a really personal post as I want to share with you part of my culture. Well for sure, speaking about music reveals something always personal, but this time, i’m going to speak about my roots !
Even if I’m living in the Pyrenees for couple years now, my heart-town is a small old harbor on the west coast of France called ‘Le Croisic‘ in French, ‘Little Cross’ in English and ‘Ar Groazig’ in Breton.
Brittany is my roots and historically a Celtic country with its own language : le ‘Breton’, and its own “Gwenn ha Du” Flag.
On my Father’s family side many were fishermen. Shanties, sing-along and other drinking songs are always my favorites – sounds a bit weird to shout them out in the middle of my current mountains… I’ve maried my wife – 10 years ago – under the sound of a single biniaoù – a kind of bag-pipe – playing ‘Amazing Grace‘, and we both opened the dancing time on ‘The Fairytale of New York‘ from the Pogues !
So I would like to introduce you to a part of this rich musical heritage : Gwerz ! With Kan ha Diskan (call and response singing), gwerz is the most common typical Breton vocal music. As many of ancient languages, Breton survives ages with oral tradition, story-tellers and singers. A Gwerz is a kind of lament where lyrics prevails. Most of the time, it describes tragic events.
For introducing this really specific singing, Denez Prigent is undoubtly the best and by far the most accessible singer. Denez is one of the leader of the new brittany songwriter generation mixing modern music with traditional instruments – uilleann pipes, bag-pipes – and singing – ‘gwerz’ and ‘kan ha diskan’ Breton styles. With five albums already released, his reputation exceeds our regional borders. Denez recorded couple duets with Lisa Gerrard, one was choosen by Ridley Scott for the movie ‘Black Hawk Down’. Even if this song is under the scope of the RIAA, I couldn’t resist to post it – may the record company understands my sharing point of view! Gortoz Az Ran (I’m Waiting) is also available on Denez’s Irvi album.
The other song i’ve selected is ‘Copsa Mica’ which is one of the most shivering live song i’ve ever heard. It’s a “gwerz” about the most polluted city in Europe : Copşa Mică in Romania. The original version has been recorded with Romanian singers Ludmila Dinova, Ivelina Baltcheva and Elena Bozova, and is available on the ‘Me’ Zalc’h Ennon Ur Fulenn Aour‘ full length.
Thanks to my friend Brigitte, native from another celtic country – Eire, who translated the Breton lyrics into English via a French version. Even, if it’s not an easy song – due to the use of Breton language, please be sure to listen it till the end and feel its entire power delivered with his unique voice and bag-pipes !
The two tracks are also available on ‘Holl A-Gevret‘ (All Together) a live album recorded in the Lorient Interceltic Festival !
Artist : Denez Prigent – Lisa Gerrard
Label : Rosebud / Barclay (UMGroup)
Copsa Mica – Denez Prigent
Those following lyrics are translated from the original version which could differ from the live song
| E Copsa Mica ‘n heol ‘zo savet ‘N heol ‘zo savet ‘n noz ‘zo chomet Du ar c’houadoù, du ar menez Du al liozhoù, du an tiez Du ar brini, du an avel Du ar glizh hag ar vogidell Du an aven, du an douar Du ar c’houmoul, du al latar Du an daouarn, du an dremmoù Ha du ivez ar c’halonoù Du ar merc’hed ‘vont d’ar vered ‘Oaront mat an hent da vonet E Copsa Mica ‘n heol ‘zo savet Met ‘glever ket al laboused E-harz ar gwez ‘vezont kavet Dre gantadoù hanter mouget Dastum ‘reer ne(zho) war an douar ‘Vel an delioù sec’h er razrac’h Ne glever ken al laboused ‘R glaz o senin ne lâran ket ‘Vez ket un deiz na sonfe ket E Copsa Mica neb a vije ‘Vije rannet korf hag ene Gwelet div vaouez o vale War hent ar vourc’h an devezh-se Ar yaouankañ ‘ouele true’ An hini all a c’houlenne: «-Katellig paour din a lâret Piv hiniv’ vez interet ‘Vit ho kwelet ken glac’haret Piv hiniv’ vez interet Pelec’h ‘z eoc’h ken du gwisket?- Piv hiniv’ vez interet Ma mab siwazh eñ a vez graet Aet d’an anaon en nozvezh-mañ D’e oferenn ez an bremañ - Tavit Katell na ouelit ket Ganet ho peus tri mab n’eo ket? Daou all ‘peus c’hoazh ‘c’hortoz en ti Ganin siwazh ne chom hini Den ebet ken d’am frealziñ - Tri mab hollgaer ya’m eus ganet ‘N uzin’ deus din holl laeret Aet d’an anaon ‘n hini kentañ N’en doa ket bet c’hoazh tregont vloa(z) An eil ‘zo klañv en e wele Bemdez, bemnoz e klemm ‘true’ A-benn nebeut ‘varvo ive’ An eil ‘zo klañv en e wele Nec’het bras on gant an trede N’eus ket miz ‘zo eo deu’t d’e oad Dija ‘deus c’hoant da labourat Da labourat ‘deus c’hoant dija En uzin blom Copsa Mica Nac’hañ outañ me na n’on ket Rak et vro-mañ labour ebetMarv ma mab en nozvezh-mañ ‘Z an d’an iliz’n e ofern-gañv Marv ma mab,’re all ‘heulio ‘Vo ket pell din ‘raok mont en-dro-Na ouelit ket Katellig kaezh En em gavet oc’h dougerez E c’hortozit ur bugel bihan Ho tizoanio eus ho tourman E c’hortozit ur c’hrouadur Hemañ ‘roio deoc’h plijadur A sento deoc’h ha ‘vezo fur A sento deoc’h ha ‘vezo fur Bezit dinec’h me ho asur Me ho asur bezit dinec’h Dre c’hras Doue ‘vezo ur verc’h -Ma vije paotr pe vije plac’h Pa wilioudin ‘vin pell a-walc’h Pa wilioudin ‘m bo cheñchet lec’h ‘Vije ur mab, ‘vije ur verc’h ‘M bo cheñchet kêr, ‘m bo cheñchet bro E zaoulagad pa zigoro Pa zogoro e zaoulagad ‘Vo splann an heol ha glan an oabl ‘Vo splann an heol ha glan an ne’ Sklêrijenn aour pa ‘n noz pa ‘n de’ Ha gwez bleuniek a-hed ar ble’ Ha gwez bleuniek a-hed ar bloaz Lapoused warno o kanãn Lapoused ruz, lapoused gwenn Lapoused glas ha re velen Lapoused du ne vo biken Pa wilioudin ‘m bo cheñchet bed Doue ‘bardono din zorfed.» Ar bloaz-mañ da Santez-Berc’hed A uzin foll ‘zo bet serret A uzin foll ‘zo bet serret Hag an deiz-se erc’h a zo kou’et Erc’h a zo kou’et fu ‘vel ar plu Deiz adarre war ar gêr zu War ar gêr zu deiz adarre Lapoused c’hoazh war ar menez Ar bloaz-mañ gouel da Sant-Andrev Hon eus gwel’t war skourroù ar gwe’ O tiwanañ delioù neve’. |
The sun rose on Copsa Mica The sun rose on Copsa Mica but night remained Black is the forest, black is the mountain Black are the gardens, black are the houses Black are the crows, black is the wind Black is the dew, black is the drizzle Black is the river, black is the earth Black are the clouds, black is the fog Black are the hands, black are the faces and black are the hearts Black are the women treading their way to the cemetery A road they know well Dawn has arisen at Copsa Mica But the birds make no sound At the foot of the trees they lie By hundreds half-choked People gather them, as they would dead leaves in autumn The birds make no sound but the death knell resounds Not a day goes by without its sound It would tear the body and soul of anyone In Copsa Mica to see two women walk on the road that day The youngest was crying with anguish The other asked her:”-Katerina, do tell me, Who is being buried today That you weep so, Who is being buried today That you are thus dressed in black? Who is being buried today? -Alas it’s my son who is being buried He died last night And it’s to his funeral I’m going -Stop, do not cry Have you not borne three sons? You still have two waiting at home Whereas I have none left No one to comfort me -Yes, I bore three wonderful sons But the factory took them all away The first is dead, Not even thirty years old The second is in bed, lying ill, Night and day screaming with pain He too will die soon My third one torments me Not even a month that he is of age to work And he wants to join the factory of Copsa Mica And there is nothing I can do to prevent him For in this country there is no other work My son died last night I’m on my way to church to bury him My son died, the rest will follow Not long now until I tread this same path -Katerina, don’t cry You are expecting a child He will bring you joy He will obey you Do not torment yourself any longer It might be a girl Whether a boy, whether a girl When it is born, I will be far Whether a boy, whether a girl When it is born, I will have moved elsewhere. I will be in another city, another country. When its eyes will open, When its eyes will open, Bright will be the sun and pure will be the moon Bright will be the sun a nd pure will be the sky Light, gold, day and night Trees blooming all year And trees blooming all year And on their branches, birds will sing Red birds, white birds, blue birds, yellow birds Gone will be the black birds When your child is born, I will have gone to another world God will forgive me. That year on the feast of St Berc’hed The factory closed The factory closed And that day, snow fell Snow fell in mid July Snow fell in the valley The flakes thin as feathers Day rose again on the black town And the birds returned to the mountain. That year, on the feast of St Andrev, People saw on the branches of the trees New leaves grow. |
Olly, You’ve done it yet again and I am ever so grateful for turning me on to Mr. Prigent music. i had never heard of him before and the duet with Lisa is stunning. What a pair of pipes eh? Right up there with Iarla Ó’Lionáird, who I absolutely adore.
because there was no alternative music before Nirvana….