
Kelly: Revered Quebec singer Serge Fiori was loved by both solitudes
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He didn't write all that much music in the 40-plus years since L'Heptade, but when he did, like for his very good solo album from 2014, it was as great as ever and became a huge hit.
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After he died on June 24, the day of La Fête de la Saint-Jean, so many online were talking about the heavy symbolism of him leaving us on Quebec's national holiday. He was as loved as any contemporary Québécois artist and was a tireless defender of the French language and culture here right up to the end of his life.
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Given all that, it's quite the rich irony that the local French-language music biz here was initially cool to Harmonium. I've met and interviewed Fiori many times over the years and he often told the story of how French radio in Montreal wasn't into the band in the early days. The first station to play Pour un instant was CHOM, and because of that Fiori always had a soft spot for the anglo classic-rock station.
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The band also signed with a Toronto-based disco label, rather than with any of the Montreal record companies. They often toured Canada to packed venues and even played throughout California, opening for Supertramp.
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I asked him how it was that English-Canadians were so into Harmonium.
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'I don't know, but it was the first time a (Quebec) band was going there, all through Canada, with nights and nights booked in every city,' Fiori said. 'You'd go on stage and there's like 3,000 people at the Orpheum in Vancouver. And they sing the words in French, and that's very rare.'
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The record company CBS offered to pay him to re-record the Harmonium songs in the language of Lennon and he turned them down. That day in the fall of 2022, I asked him why he said 'no'.
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'Cause I'm nuts,' he said with a laugh. 'First of all, there's something about writing rock 'n' roll in French that is extremely hard. It's pretty easy in English. It sounds good with nothing. Once you get it (in French), it's so profound. The song is so amazing, so even translating that in English, for me it wouldn't work… and I think if I would have done that, Quebec would have turned against me.'
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He said the reaction in Western Canada was exactly the same as it was here in Quebec — people just adored Harmonium. They told him they didn't care what language the songs were in, 'It was just the music.'
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He recalled travelling to Toronto with the band to meet with the executives at Quality Records and on the spot the label gave them five grand to make an album in Montreal, something no local label was willing to do.
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'We were too weird (for the Montreal record companies),' Fiori said.
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But so accessible as well, you touched the heart of everyone, said Borne.
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'Yeah, but they didn't believe that,' Fiori said.
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To which I chimed in, 'proving my theory that the vast majority of these record-company people know nothing.'
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'Thank you very much,' Fiori said quietly.
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Then he started laughing.
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Japan Forward
a day ago
- Japan Forward
A World of Generosity
このページを 日本語 で読む JAPAN Forward has launched "Ignite," a series to share the voices of students in Japan in English. How do they see the world, and what insights will they share with us? Individually and collectively, today's students will shape our global future. Let's listen. This second essay introduces another winning work of the Institute for International Business Communication (IIBC) high school student English essay contest. In the following essay, high school student Keinosuke Muto shares how living and making friends in a foreign country ignited his open-mindedness and cultural curiosity, and how that has affected his view and perspectives on the world. Second in the Series, 'Ignite' The scorching desert burned my skin, as my body screamed for water and food. Temptations crept into my brain, but I must close my eyes to punish myself for my daily sins rather than refresh my thirst. The word 'Ramadan' initially evoked an idea of strangeness and strictness when I first moved to Dubai, United Arab Emirates. All of these stereotypes were shattered when Mohammad, my best friend, invited me to Iftar, the grand dinner served after a day of fasting. We were about to eat dinner when Mohammed's mom suddenly asked us to hold a bag. Inside were a myriad of plates, each covered in aluminum foil, each holding in the warmth of homemade food. The mouthwatering smell of saffron rice and kebab rose from it. Mohammed's mother told us to get in the car. She held another bag, hers filled with bottled water. Genuinely confused, I asked Mohammed. "What are we doing?" "We're gonna go around and give food to people," he replied. Giving food to relatives and friends, I thought. Like Japan, in the New Year, where my aunt shares homemade mochi with my family… Mohammed's mom drove the car for a few minutes when we reached our first stop: a construction site. I was flabbergasted. Why are we stopping here? In front of a gray, half-built mansion, men in blue clothes gathered around a small table. Mohammed suddenly rolled down the window. "A-salaam Alaikum," he said merrily. Mohammed and his mother tenderly grabbed the food and water from the bags and handed it to the workers. "Thank you, thank you," they said. The next stop was a small security office. This time, my hands were moving, grabbing the wrapped food from my bag, and handing it to the officers. Broad smiles stretched across their faces. After we went around a few more stops, I asked Mohammed, "Why do you do this?" "Because it's Ramadan, the month of sharing." It was at this moment that my stereotypes about Ramadan were shattered. Ramadan wasn't just the action of fasting, it was a world of generosity and sharing with those in need. It was never a punishment, but understanding the poor and being benevolent. Keisuke Muto, a student at Makuhari Junior and Senior High School in Chiba Prefecture won the Excellence Award and America-Japan Society President's Award. He wrote about living overseas and the excitement of discovering other cultures. (©IIBC) A few weeks after Ramadan, I invited Mohammed to come to my house for a Takoyaki party. It was his first time seeing Takoyaki. He was filled with excitement as we poured the dough into the small holes. "What are we putting in the dough?" he questioned. "It's gonna be octopus," I replied. "What? No way, it's my first time!" He seemed bewildered but also exhilarated at the thought of trying something he'd never eaten before. I was glad that I conveyed to Mohammed my own culture. Fast forward 4 years, and I'm the leader of the Arabic Culture Club. We make videos about the Arab World, visit restaurants, mosques, and embassies to learn about Arabic culture. My Japanese friends ask me numerous times: "Why are you doing this?" I recall how my experiences with Mohammed shattered my biases. On that day, his actions taught me that behind a veneer of stereotypes, there's a world of fascination and beautiful culture. It was a glimpse of a world that drove me curious, one that I wanted to explore even after returning to Japan. Through my friendship with him, I learned the joy of learning and conveying cultures. Conversations at his dinner table taught me traditional Arabic foods that are rarely served in restaurants. Small talk in school immersed me in the wonders of the Arabic World. On the other hand, it was from the fun we had that Mohammed learned about Japanese culture. We had Takoyaki parties, ate at Ramen shops, and engaged in Anime talk. When conveying Japanese culture to him, I quickly learned how enjoyable conveying a culture is. I wouldn't be in the Arabic Culture Club if I were not friends with Mohammed. It was he who shaped my life. Thank you, Mohammed. Keinosuke Muto won the 2023 Excellence Award and the America-Japan Society President's Award for his English-language essay. At the time, he was a second-year high school student at Makuhari Junior and Senior High School in Chiba Prefecture. He explained his thoughts about the essay as follows: "I am very honored to receive the Excellence Award and the America-Japan Society President's Award, I wrote about my experience of iftar at my best friend's house when I was living in Dubai in the Middle East. [And] I tried hard to clearly express how I overcame the prejudices I had about Islam. Through this wonderful experience, I was able to gain a new perspective and felt the power to resolve prejudices and misunderstandings. I would like to continue to deepen my understanding of different cultures and beliefs and build rich human relationships. I would like to thank the teachers who supported me and the judges who selected me." Author: Keinosuke Muto, Student, Makuhari Junior and Senior High School, Chiba Prefecture このページを 日本語 で読む

Montreal Gazette
2 days ago
- Montreal Gazette
Freed: Here's to the beautiful chaos of Montreal summers
I was driving home two weeks ago, working my way though a bewildering maze of street festivals separating me from my home. St-Laurent Blvd. was closed for 11 days for a street fair from Sherbrooke St. to Mont-Royal Ave. Mont-Royal was closed for three kilometres for a summer-long street fest. Nearby, Rachel Ave. was mobbed by a big Portuguese festival where families danced, while munching on bifana sandwiches. Unsure how to get home, I consulted Google Maps, which replied: 'HA! HA! You've got to be kidding. No way you're getting there by car.' OK, I'm exaggerating, but it almost seems possible as our city explodes with summer festivals and closed streets, while a hundred traffic jams bloom. But I'm not complaining, just admiring the beautiful chaos that I love about this city every summer. What chaos? The meandering mobs: In Montreal, we shut down streets for summer as casually as other cities shut their street lights each morning. If you could watch from overhead, you'd see a vast citywide river of humanity streaming through never-ending street festivals. Everyone weaves in and out of each other's way on foot, bike, e-scooter e-bike, hoverboard, baby stroller and the occasional unicycle. All while skirting orange cones that have been there for so many years they have permanent resident status and may qualify for health coverage. It's utter anarchy, with no rules, yet it flows seamlessly: uncontrolled but controlled at the same time. It's Montreal! Free festivities: In festival season, our city becomes one vast, crowded living room and everyone's invited, from Grand Prix high rollers to the unhoused. There's no admission, whether it's the N.D.G. Porchfest, Monkland street fair or St-Laurent/Bernard/Duluth/Carifête/Circus street fests. In the last two weeks, I've seen free Spanish sidewalk troubadours, Portuguese castanet players and Caribbean trumpeters. And with the jazz fest starting, free-dom has only begun. Last Friday night I went to the Francos de Montréal festival to see a well-known 'rap slameur' from France named 'Grand Corps Malade.' More than 50,000 people from every corner of Earth were jammed into the Quartier des Spectacles, but it felt as warm and intimate as a small jazz club. The French performer revealed he had moved to Montreal last year, and the crowd cheered endlessly as he talked about his new love for snowblowers. He even sang a poetic love song to Montreal in French with lines like: 'Des grosses voitures qui klaxonnent … et l'influence Anglo-Saxonne.' (The big trucks that honk and the Anglo-Saxon influence.) He finished the song with this line: 'Et moi aussi je connais des mots: GO HABS GO!' (And I, too, know the words: GO HABS GO!) The immense crowd went wild, holding up tens of thousands of phone flashlights in a four-block homemade light show. It was an utterly beautiful Montreal moment that could happen almost nowhere else on the continent. Toronto can't shut down an array of major streets like us all summer. Premier Doug Ford is already busy trying to tear down three of Toronto's bike lanes to 'fight traffic congestion.' Meanwhile in the U.S., if our massive ethnically diverse audiences ever showed up at an event, they'd call in ICE to deport half the crowd. Controlled chaos: Our festival organizers move fences, barriers and massive crowds around like grandmasters moving chess pieces. They throw up giant screens in hours with better reception than my TV. They put up 5,000-person rain tents on Ste-Catherine St. faster than I could erect a two-man pup tent. Only theirs don't leak. After each show, small trucks tour the streets cleaning up beer stains before they dry and hauling away garbage in bags the size of duplexes. In fact, the festival zone's streets are cleaner during its massive festivals than they are the rest of the year. Maybe we should give our major festival organizers the keys to city hall, then let them run the rest of the city. Jazz fest for mayor! Peace, no police: Everything's made easier by mellow Montrealers, well-behaved crowds that never swing anything more dangerous than a hip. Decade after decade, we gather in vast multitudes at the jazz fest, Carifête, Osheaga, Grand Prix and other mega events, yet we've never had a bad incident. There are fewer disputes at our giant Montreal festivals than there are at bingo night in a Chicago seniors' home. Years ago, I brought a showbiz friend from L.A. to our jazz fest and she freaked out in the densely packed crowds, warning me how dangerous a mob can get when it panics. She knew: she'd been at the Rodney King riots. I told her this wasn't L.A., just routine Montreal festival foot traffic, but she wouldn't believe me and demanded we leave NOW! Then, amid the mob I spotted someone I knew and hauled my friend over to meet her. It was my mom, then in her late 80s, swinging her hips to the music. My L.A. friend's face instantly changed from a tense grimace to a big grin and we spent a long, lovely night there. So as summer gets into gear, be sure to drop in on the festivities. Don't forget to bring your mother.


Winnipeg Free Press
2 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Family matters
In her enticing new novel Days of Light, English writer Megan Hunter offers two innovations that distinguish the book from most other current works of fiction: there are no surnames given for any of the characters, and dialogue is not only minimal but is presented in italics, with no quotation marks. These two differences only add to the appeal. Also appealing is the structure: the novel is broken into six chapters, each of which takes place in a single day. Each day is in the month of April; the first two are two weeks apart in 1938, the others in 1944, 1956, 1965 and 1999. Hunter is the author of two previous novels, 2017's The End We Start From and 2020's The Harpy. Annie Dressner photo Megan Hunter is the author two previous novels, 2017's The End We Start From and 2020's The Harpy. One of Days of Light's major settings is an English country estate called Cressingdon, where Marina is a middle-aged artist. Chapter 1 takes place there on Easter Sunday, 1938. Marina's husband Gilbert has left her, but she has a live-in man-friend, Angus, who is also an artist. Marina's son, 21-year-old Joseph, is home from Oxford for Easter, and her daughter, 19-year-old Ivy, is there too. While Days of Light is told in the third person, it is entirely from the point of view of Ivy, who gradually becomes the lovable main character. Included in the gathering are Rupert (nicknamed Bear), a 44-year-old who is apparently interested in Ivy; Genevieve, Marina's sister; Hector, Genevieve's husband; and Frances, Joseph's girlfriend. Looking after the food and drink is Marina's full-time maid, Anne. As darkness comes, Joseph decides to swim in the nearby river. Ivy goes too, but Marina talks Frances into staying behind. At the river, Joseph disappears. The second chapter takes place two weeks later, at Joseph's funeral. No body was found, leaving the worry about what exactly happened to him hanging over the family's lives. Here Hunter once again shows her knack for handling a large gathering. Ivy and Bear go out to the walled garden to be alone together; their intimacy is sensed by Marina, who takes Ivy aside to tell her, 'Anyone but him.' Whether or not Marina's dislike of Bear only makes Ivy want him more, when Chapter 3 begins it's six years later and they are married, with two daughters, Artemis, 4, and Pansy (nicknamed Baby), 2. Bear has a job in London, but they live in the country. It is 1944, with the Second World War seemingly under control, and Hunter makes her characters' domestic life seem alive, real, three-dimensional. Frances is now married to a fellow named David and they have a young daughter named Rose. Frances and Rose come to visit Ivy and the girls. 'Oh! How lovely!' Ivy says, when Rose lets Ivy pick her up and hold her. 'And it (was lovely): the foreignness of someone else's child, the different texture and weight in her arms,' Hunter writes. 'It felt somehow intimate, to be holding Frances's daughter like this: she could smell their home, the layering of life that made their particular atmosphere, so different from hers. And there was something like approval, or even blessing, in the way the little girl wrapped herself so tightly around Ivy's body.' The five of them go to visit Marina; threatening rain causes them to hurry home, an hour's walk away, but they get drenched. The war is still on and they go up onto the roof to watch buzz bombers, Frances having accepted Ivy's invitation to stay overnight, and see a bomb hit Cressingdon. Juxtaposed with this is a gradual feeling of attraction, one woman to the other, 'the imperfect contact of their lips somehow inevitable, perfect, making them reach for each other.' The sight of fire at Cressingdon causes Ivy to believe she should go there — for the reader, news of the recent fires in Manitoba makes this part of the novel even more vivid. Ivy finds Marina's studio on fire, many paintings destroyed. After an ambulance has taken the Cressingdon people to the local vicarage, Ivy walks home. Everyone is asleep — Frances not in the guest bed but in Ivy's, exactly where Ivy wants her to be. The novel takes many twists and turns, all natural, sensual, believable. Ivy becomes a nun, but she does stay in touch with Frances. Though what follows — and the ending — may well be expected, it is still perfectly satisfying. Days of Light should certainly establish Megan Hunter as a writer whose work can be enjoyed by readers of all ages. Dave Williamson is the Winnipeg author of six novels, a collection of short stories, four works of non-fiction and over 1,000 book reviews.