Staff Playlist #11: Foreign Language Songs

In our most recent podcast, we explored foreign language pop, and why it's still treated with such suspicion in the English-speaking world. People are missing out by refusing to be more open-minded as this playlist shows. We've tracks from around the world, sung in French, Swedish, Afrikaans and more. You can also discover these tracks for yourself, with accompanying playlists available on last.fm, Spotify, 8tracks and Grooveshark. We'd also like to hear your recommendations for foreign language tracks and maybe you could even point us in the direction of some blogs. We're fans of Awesome Tapes From Africa already, let us know what you're listening to.

NB: Not all tracks are available on all playlists and, while every effort has been made with correct spellings and accents, unfortunately we're not linguistic experts. Apologies if there are any mistakes in artist names or song titles.

The Very Best - Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa

At a gig in Bristol a couple of years back, between sets from the rather dull James Yuill and headliners Zero 7, the venue's loudspeakers suddenly started playing what I now know to be The Very Best's version of Vampire Weekend's Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa. The track became an instant favourite of mine. Retaining the catchy riff from Vampire Weekend's original, but with new vocals and production from Esau Mwamwaya and Radioclit (collectively known as The Very Best), this version of Cape Cod... abandons the song's indie origins in favour of overtly joyful world music. Craig Stevens

France Gall - Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son

In the sixties, even the Eurovision Song Contest was unbelievably cool, apparently. Certainly no winner during my lifetime has been quite so effortlessly beautiful, memorable, or... well... creepy as Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son. Although, as the track was written by bon vivant, womaniser, genius and French national treasure Serge Gainsbourg, the fact that a then-teenage Gall is singing about her, and her fans, being puppets of the music industry (and many more things besides – the double meanings are too extensive to list here) seems less surprising. And, as a side-note, if Arcade Fire had given their frantic run-through of the song the full release that it had deserved then I would have gladly included it in September's covers playlist, but they didn't, so I didn't (but if you haven't heard it, track it down on YouTube as it's possibly the best thing they've ever done). Mark Davison

Françoise Hardy - La Question

You don’t need to know French to be touched by this heart-rending song. Hardy’s breathy phrasing conveys the hurt and grief of a dying relationship. The arrangement is sparse, just guitar, piano, and delicate violins that wrap around her voice like gossamer. If you haven’t heard Hardy before, I know no better introduction. Angel Aguilar

Fred Åkerstöm - Jag Ger Dig Min Morgon

I hadn't heard this song until my wife starting singing along to a tune that I'd been working on for a little while. I thought I'd written something worthwhile; it turned out I'd somehow learned how to play this song note for note, despite having no conscious knowledge of its existence. Jag Ger Dig Min Morgon is a cover of Tom Paxton's I Give You The Morning, but in slowing the tempo and simplifying the melody, Åkerstöm turns a strong composition into something truly spectacular. Even if you don't understand a word he is saying, you'll know from his rich and tender vocal that he means every last word. David Coleman

Seether - Kom Saam Met My (Secret Song)

This pick stems purely from the tune's weirdness. It's even stranger when you consider that this is a hidden track on what is considered Seether's (typically known for heavy, angry and scream-powered rock) darkest album. Upon reading the translation, it's fairly clear that the song was recorded on a whim and succeeds in its ironic poke at the preceding album's musical weight. It also displays one of the native tongues of lead singer/guitarist Shaun Morgan and bassist Dale Stewart, both of South Africa. Since when does a dark, quasi-grunge band pump out a short, lighthearted jazz song sung in Afrikaans. That's pretty wicked. Luredo Marbery

Monade - Étoile

Monade are the side project of Laetitia Sadier from Stereolab and unlike her group of old, they actually write some verse-chorus-verse songs from time to time. They're less concerned with analogue bloops and bleeps, and occasionally make gorgeous records like Étoile (French for "star"). It's a woozy, dreamy track that falls from phrase to phrase and - excuse my rudimentary and ever-dwindling knowledge of the French language - seems to be about a woman's gradual descent into madness. There's a hint of 60s Parisien glamour throughout as strings rise and swoop, and the triplets towards the end of each verse are astonishingly effective. Lovely, immersive stuff. Joe Rivers

Vapnet - Thoméegränd

A number of Swedish artists have perfected this particular brand of melancholic jangle-pop song, but few are bold enough to use their first language to tell their tales of social awkwardness and unrequited love. On this sublime offering, Östersund's Vapnet (which means "the weapon") prove that language really is no barrier when you have melody and emotion on your side. David Coleman

Jorge Ben – Bebete Vãobora

If you’re new to Jorge Ben, it can be hard to know where to start and his immense back catalogue can be intimidating. You could do worse than to begin with his self-titled album from 1969, his sixth and I believe his best. Arguably one of Brazil’s greatest exports, he has become renowned as an alchemist of funk, soul and samba, and demonstrates this so well in Bebete Vãobora. It’s trippy, yet catchy and you can enjoy Ben’s incredible vocals without knowing what they mean. The perfect marriage of trumpets and his experimental guitar transport you to Brasilia and still manage to sound fresh after forty years. Natassia Caffery

Shugo Tokumaru - Rum Hee (Deerhoof Remix)

Tokyo-born singer-songwriter Shugo Tokumaru is well known in his native Japan, both for his solo work and as one-fifth of Japanese rock band Gellers. Outside of Japan, his music is known by few but, as the incredible rise of Souterrain Transmissions labelmates EMA and Zola Jesus in recent months proves, that could easily change. Taken from his 2009 EP of the same name, Rum Hee's uplifting sound, mishmash of rhythms and complex instrumentation openly invites comparisons to Sigur Ros or Sufjan Stevens. This remix by Californian group Deerhoof adds another level of bouncy happiness to a song that's already joyously upbeat. Craig Stevens

Émilie Simon – Opium

Trip-hop producer/singer Émilie Simon somehow never really found an audience outside of France, which I can only attribute to the language barrier. But I actually find it makes Opium all the more intriguing – with my limited GCSE-level French I can only barely get a grip on what the song is about, but the language suits Simon’s delicate vocals and beats perfectly. This is a gorgeous piece of twinkly, atmospheric pop. Stephen Wragg

Mina - Se Telefonando

Written by Ennio Morricone, this huge 1966 hit for Italian pop diva Mina Mazzini was inspired by police sirens. Everything about it is clever, even its lyrics about a woman hesitant to continue a budding relationship. The song has two movements: the first a slow introduction with baroque trumpets, the second a faster tempo with full orchestra, the chromatic scale ascending as the same musical phrase is repeated, building to a crescendo of drums and sawing violins. It’s a perfect showcase for Mina’s three-octave vocal range. Bravo, maestro! Angel Aguilar

Azumi Inoue/Joe Hisaishi – Kimi Wo Nosete

The ongoing marriage of Japanese anime master Hayao Miyazaki's films with the music of Joe Hisaishi seems like a perfect fit; both men use very traditional, simple techniques and components to magical effect. Perhaps this is the greatest thing that the partnership has produced so far - the theme song to their second film together, 1986's Laputa AKA Castle in the Sky, sung by Azumi Inoue (who might be something of a Ghibli lucky-charm, having also provided vocals for My Neighbour Totoro and Kiki's Delivery Service). Somehow managing to be big and enchanting, delicate and heartfelt all at once, I'd say that it manages to invoke a sense of child-like wonder, even when you don't understand the language (and when it's being listened to away from the source film). Quite why Inoue thought it was a good idea to include a syrupy reworking of the song on her recent Ghibli tribute album (which is unfortunately the only version of the song that Spotify are offering) I have no idea. Mark Davison

Os Mutantes – Panis et Circenses

During a brief obsession with the weird and wonderful Elephant 6 collective, I ended up discovering this Brazilian psych-pop band who preceded the likes of the Olivia Tremor Control and Of Montreal by about 30 years. Like Elephant 6, it’s full of jubilant horns and tambourine, and one of the catchiest tunes I’ve ever heard. Panis et Circenses breaks down midway through for a wacky lo-fi interlude, before a brilliant crescendo, and it ends with what sounds like the band eating in a restaurant. I still can’t quite believe it was made in 1968. Stephen Wragg

Superaquello - El Pelo de Dios

In the last decade, Puerto Rico’s best-kept secret tenaciously fought to stay afloat with little or no commercial success. Over their thirteen-year-old run, Superaquello strictly followed their own inclinations, crafting four exceedingly inventive albums that would’ve caused a commotion in tastemaker blogs had they succumbed to singing outside of their native Spanish. El Pelo de Dios exemplifies their panache for merging electronic modulations with traditional folklore, largely due to main songwriter Francs Perez’s mishmash of four-string cuatro compositions and Jorge Castro’s liquefied, 60 bpm electronic pulses. Patricia Vargas’ hushed, sugary vocals were always the gateway for them to instill their synth pop roots, but the band’s multi-layered arrangements provided the luscious songs a pop patina that defies any blinkered concept of what Latino music should sound like. Juan Edgardo Rodriguez

Serge Gainsbourg - Comic Strip

I thought this song was pretty bizarre but then I saw the biopic, Gainsbourg, and now I think it's even stranger. In the film, the song is written as notorious crumpeteer Gainsbourg is persauding paramour, Brigitte Bardot, that she could be a superhero. That goes some way to explain Bardot's exclamations of "Kapow!" and "Whizz!" but it still has the mark of a vanity project that wouldn't normally make it to a full album. However, this is from Gainsbourg's Initials B.B. LP, recorded at a time when France's first couple were in the initial throes of their passionate affair. It's not a great track in the classic sense, but it's absolutely charming to hear two people in love abandon any notion of cool and just have fun recording in a studio. They're having a whale of a time; Bardot's squeals get ever more excited and, if you listen carefully, Gainsbourg emits a sly chuckle towards the end as he sings, "n'ait pas peur". Despite Gainsbourg's reputation as a Gitanes-chewing, sex-obsessed poet, this is a reminder of more innocent times. Joe Rivers

Gipsy Kings - Hotel California

Let's start this off with me completely acknowledging that I am only turned on to this song because of The Big Lebowski. But, c'mon, once it hits you during the film you can't help but think, "I'd much rather listen to this than The Eagles' version." I mean, what's so much better about the original? Other than comprehension, that is. After getting over the thought of Jesus Quintana ("Eight-year-olds, Dude.") sexually bowling, one can realize the song's actually an original and good goddamn cover. It adds Americana rhythm and classical Spanish guitar with lyrics sung completely in Español by a guy who sounds like a traditionally handsome Mexican soap opera actor from the '90s. Dig it yet? Luredo Marbery

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