POUR 500 BALLES AMÈNE-MOI SHREK

I’ve been listening to many French rap music this week. I read an interview of a French rapper, he was saying that “before”, there was a difference between the rap parisien and elsewhere, and the rap marseillais. You could listen to Busta Flex, X Men, Les Petits boss, it was joyful, even if they were dealing with serious matters. Whereas bands like IAM, 3e Oeil, or even la FF, were using many violins, piano sounds, and melodies expressing pain. I like both. Some people are against “conscious rap”. I love it. I don’t care about the message, over and over heard. I just listen to the violins, the piano, the angry voices and styles of the rappers, and I like what is expressed. I am also fond of Booba, “La richesse est dans nos coeurs / Mon cul moi j’ veux de l’oseille”. That’s contradictory, but I don’t really care. No coherence. But whatever, coherence leads to snobbism, and elitism. I like Booba in Mauvais Oeil, I like Booba in Ouest Side. I like Le Klub des loosers. That’s a revolution; I have a problem with rap music, a positive problem.

That’s listening to Groupe sanguin that I rode my bike in Skomagergade (Roskilde Main Street) during the afternoon. The way was blocked by strollers and teenagers wearing skinny jeans. I saw a poster with Maddie’s face on it. You know, the British little girl who got kidnaped or killed this summer. Here in Denmark, Maddie’s face is everywhere. I, just, wondered why. And then I thought about Danish cinema. Danes go the movies, they’re human. The particularity is that Danish cinema is very dark and pessimistic. I’ve also wondered why. But I have a kind of answer today, and it is the same both for infatuation for Maddie’s case and Danish cinema. Here everybody is happy, I already wrote it. For the Danes, Maddie’s case is like cinema, it is no real, it’s fiction. People are enthusiastic about Maddie, and love their cinema. During the film, characters lose their job, get divorced, and die sometimes. But at the end of the film, the light in the cinema room is switched on, and Danes can go back to their real life; they still have a job, a wife, and they still are alive. They read the newspapers, articles about the little girl kidnaped or killed, and then they put the newspapers on the table of the living room, and look a their children in a satisfied and reassured way. It’s like “thank God, tutto va bene”:

http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=isCaxqBlv48

In precisely two weeks, I’ll be back in Paris.