Tuesday, July 14, 2009

My next instrument will be ...


A bombarde!
... mais ma femme ... elle dit, "NON!"

Le quatorze juillet, Bastille Day, is a special day of celebration in France. Whether Brittany is truly part of France is historically debatable, and I am unsure how loyal Bretons will receive this post in such a context. (Enlightening comments are welcome.)

Here's a song, in Breton Gaelic about a swan (An Alarc'h). My thanks to someone called hanterkant for the following paraphrased explanation:
The plot is simple, based on a real story. In the middle ages, a Breton duke (surnamed "the Swan") returns from England to Brittany in order to help his people fight against a French invasion. The Bretons sing, "D'an emgann! D'an emgann!" ("To the fight! To the fight!").



Some viewers might recognise the tune. It has been acquired for accompanying a traditional English/Scottish tale of human mortality, desertion and avian feasting.

Which one?

What is the collective term for a group of legitimately conceived bombarde-players?
... bombast?

2 comments:

St. Anley said...

My friend, Hanterkant responded as follows:
"Just a point : Breton is not a Gaelic language, though it is a close cousin.
To be more precise, the Celtic languages are divided into two groups: a Brythonic one and the Gaelic one.
The Brythonic group gave us Welsh, Cornish, Breton and Gaulish (now extinct)
The Gaelic group gave Irish, Scottish and the language of Manx."
This person is a fountain of knowledge. Many thanks.

Musically Bent said...

I wonder if your friend would be able to identify the language that I am speaking. Moreover, whenever I sing, it becomes a different strain of language yet retains certain characteristic grunts.
Of course some club members are many times worse. There is one particular regular of whom I have scarcely ever understood a single word he spoke.
Have I to make the effort to master all these different arts of communication St. Anley? Breton, Gaulish, Welsh, Cornish & Celtic languages - and then to be corrected, by you know who, at every turn in the diphthong so to speak.
I cannot. I must not. It is just too much. Ouch!