Je Suis Charlie

[j$]

Je Suis Charlie by Johnny Cashpoint (feat. Noah Mclaughlin)

Words by Laurent Joffrin. Music and backing vocal words by j$. Spoken word part by Noah.

Charlie, c’était le rire intelligent, le rire impitoyable, la dérision, le refus du tragique, l’ironie pleine d’espérance, Voltaire en vignettes, un coup de pied au cul des fanatiques. Contre les crayons, les fusains et les bulles, ils ont sorti les kalachnikovs. Quel aveu de faiblesse ! Quand on n’a pas d’arguments, on tire.

Ils ont raté leur coup. En tuant nos amis, ils nous ont meurtris mais ils nous ont fortifiés. Les dessinateurs de Charli... ont renversé tous les tabous, ridiculisé tous les dogmes, mis un bonnet d’âne à toutes les statues du commandeur, fait un bras d’honneur à tous les donneurs de leçon.

Si nous vivons avec moins de préjugés, moins de censure, moins .. de principes désuets, avec un peu plus d’autonomie, de libre arbitre, d’humour, c’est aussi grâce à ce gang de viveurs tonitruants et chaleureux, qui ont toujours préféré un bon mot à un renoncement. Tous les autoritaires, les solennels, les répressifs, les obscurantistes, les pisse-froid … ont eu à se plaindre de Charlie.

Les terroristes … ont visé … la tolérance, le refus du fanatisme, le défi au dogmatisme, … … Les fanatiques ne défendent pas la religion, qui peut être accueillante, ils ne défendent pas les musulmans, qui sont révoltés dans leur immense majorité par ces meurtres abjects. Ils attaquent la liberté.

Pour se défendre, la liberté respectera son propre principe … ; réunir dans une juste mobilisation tous les républicains, qui désigneront sans ambages l’adversaire, le terrorisme et non l’islam, le fanatisme et non la foi, l’extrémisme et non leurs compatriotes musulmans, qui sont les premières victimes de l’intégrisme et qui sont solidaires dans l’épreuve.

Nous ne ferons pas la guerre. Nous ne sommes pas des soldats. Mais nous défendrons notre savoir-faire et notre vocation … maintenant, nous savons pourquoi nous faisons ce métier.

(nous sommes Charlie)

(Bonjour monsieur terroriste, va tu fais t'enculer parce que
Charlie vivra, Je suis Charlie, tout le monde, nous sommes Charlie
Bonjour monsieur dogmatiste, va tu fais t'enculer parce que
Charlie vivra, Je suis Charlie, tout le monde, nous sommes Charlie)

(respires - tu n’as pas meurs de rire x2)


Sorry for making this a 'Nevada' post - but I appreciate there's quite a lot of French in this song! Here is my own, *very* loose translation, where I am trying to capture the mood of this ‘Libération’ editorial; but let me stress it’s just my own interpretation. Also the text is much edited from the beautiful original here, if you fancy using your better-than-mine French! I also reserve the right to keep editing this until I think it's right, for me.

Oh, Charlie - smart laugh, ruthless laugh, the joy of derision, the refusal to surrender to tragedy, irony overflowing with hope, Voltaire in cartoon form, a kick up the Fanatics’ asses! Against crayons, pencils and speech bubbles, they pulled out their Kalashnikovs - what an admittance of their own pointlessness! Only when you have no come-back do you *shoot*. They missed.

In killing our friends, they have wounded us but only made us stronger.

The Charlie cartoonists peeled back *all* taboos, mocked *all* dogma, put a dunce’s cap on *every* sacred cow, gave the finger* to everyone who had a “lesson” to share. If modern life comes with a little less prejudice, less censorship, fewer throw-back ideas, and with a little bit more freedom, free will and humour - we owe more than some thanks to this noisy, convivial, *alive* gang, who always went for a punch line before a denouncement. Authority, the po-faced, those who would repress us or keep the truth from us, the tight-asses; they *all* took a kicking from Charlie.

The terrorists took aim at tolerance, anyone who stands against fanaticism and dogmatism. As hard-liners, they were never defending religion, which is more accepting than we think; they were never defending Muslims, who, almost in their entirety, are disgusted by these terrible murders. They were attacking freedom.

To defend itself, Freedom needs to remember its heart and bring together everyone who believes in the idea of the Republic***, a righteous, balls-out protest against our enemies. The enemies are terrorism not Islam, Fanaticism not belief, extremism not Muslims - who are the first victims of fundamentalism and with whom we’re united, not just during this awful trial.

We’re not looking for war – we’re not soldiers. However we *will* defend our own understanding of the world and our right to do our jobs; now, at least, we are reminded why we chose this career.

(We’re all Charlie)

(Hello, Mr. Terrorist – go *fuck* yourself – because
Charlie lives – I am Charlie! All the world is Charlie!
Hello, Mister Dogmatist - go *fuck yourself* 'cos
Charlie's not dead while I live. I am Charlie - we're all now Charlie!)

(Take a breath already - laughter won’t kill *you*!) X2

*I find this hard to translate – it means “Give a Guard of Honour to” – but also “Up Yours” – a deliberate double meaning here that I can’t quite capture in a single sentence in English! Got to love that ‘Langue de Francais"!
**I am sure I don’t need to explain this to anyone here, but French Republican-ism absolutely <> American "Republican" party.

[noma]

Nick Soma - Je Suis Charlie

Freedom was shot down in the middle of Paris
But the spirit they could not defeat
What power do some guys equipped with guns have
Compared to the millions out on the street?

They remind us that Charlie ain't dead just as long
As the idea is lingering on
So continue to speak out what you want to say
Then Charlie will never be gone

Je suis Charlie, ils me ont abattu
Mais je ne serai pas muet
Et je vous assure, avec nos forces unis
L'humour ne mourra jamais

They tried to assassinate fredom of speech
But I think they didn't achieve
Quite what they wanted, and they never will
As long as we still all believe

Je suis Charlie, ils me ont abattu
Mais je ne serai pas quiet
Et je vous assure, avec nos forces unis
L'amour ne mourra jamais

Je suis Charlie, ils me ont abattu
Mais je ne serai pas muet
Et je vous assure, avec nos forces unis
L'humour ne mourra jamais

L'humour ne mourra jamais

[PlainSongs]

Je suis Charlie by Nu igen! (with translation of the French parts)

Any talk of the supernatural in a non-metaphorical way
insults my intelligence -- but if you must, then pray

But don't you raise your index at me
as you lay down the capitalized Word
because I have a friendly middle finger
I can't submit to no lord

Any talk of the supernatural I must humbly defer to Disney Land
Elephants fly, there's pie in the sky, and it's futile to try and understand

But don't you raise your index at me
as you praise the wealth of Scrooge McDuck
You're free to entertain your hypothesis
but I think it's down to physics and luck (and marketing, which is really the same thing)

Any honest talk of the supernatural seems logically void
but that is how brains work - a child must babble so it, maybe, learns to talk

J'ai entendu - je peux pas croire - que le grand dieu est mort
Charlie! bourré de blasphémie -- j'ai redressé ce tort

[I've heard - I can't believe - that the great god is dead
Charlie! full of blasphemy -- I've righted that wrong]

Well I know you think you're daddy's good son, and I'm a bad and stupid kid
and I try to understand your reasons and fears -- but I don't agree with it

Any talk of the supernatural in a non-metaphorical way
insults my intelligence -- but if you must, then pray

Mais pas la peine de soulever l'index
quand tu tâches de me faire peur
car puisque j'ai un majeur bien développé
je ne puisse me soumettre à aucun seigneur.

[But don't bother lifting your index finger
when you try to frighten me
since because I have a well developed middle finger
I couldn't submit to any lord]

[Geoff WreckdoM]

Je Suis Charlie
by WreckdoM

Je suis Charlie.
Je ne suis pas Kevin.
Je ne suis pas Monsieur Merveilleux.
Je ne ai pas de collations et de fromage.

Je suis paresseux.
Je ne suis pas sournois.
Je ne suis pas bien soigné.
Vous pouvez me sentir venir.

Donnez-moi l'argent, me comprendre?
Ce est ma seule chemise, comprends-moi?
Mon chien a mangé mon salaire,
savoir ce que je veux dire?
Ma sauce a pas de pain.

Je suis Charlie.
Je ne suis pas Stacy.
Je ne conduis pas un camion Chevrolet.
Je ne sais pas de garde-boue.

Je suis fou.
Je ne suis pas drôle.
Je ne ris.
Je défèque extérieur.

Donnez-moi des trucs, me comprendre?
Ce est ma seule chemise, comprends-moi?
Mon chien a mangé mon salaire,
savoir ce que je veux dire?
Ma sauce a pas de pain.

Je suis Charlie
Je ne suis pas Bruce.
Je ne suis pas le président de lisse.
Mon pantalon ne sont pas de velours.

Je suis inconnu.
Je ne ai pas de CV.
Je ne ai pas une étagère de trophée.
Je ai un diplôme dans la stupidité.


Donnez-moi le respect, me comprendre?
Ce est ma seule chemise, comprends-moi?
Mon chien a mangé mon salaire,
savoir ce que je veux dire?

[Lands of Hum]

Lands of Hum Lyrics
On January 7, 2015,
men stormed the office of a satire magazine
and their hungry hands commanded their wicked weaponry
to mow down artists and writers.

And the west watched in horror on various sized screens
and as one clicked and tweeted their deepest sympathy
for the folks that perished and their brave magazine
I myself was among them.

And as the horror settled in and the killers they tried to find
I began to hold various troubled thoughts in my mind:
the first - sadness for the poor souls who died;
and the second of a complicated nature.

This outrage and despair cascading through the West,
it could be described as selective at best.
Our eyes remain dry and our smartphones in our pockets
when the corpses are differently complected.

Innocents are slaughtered everywhere all the time.
Perhaps direct your watery eyes to occupied Palestine
where the children's flesh crackles in Israel's bombs' flames
and Western fingers never tweet their names.

Or perhaps have a glance at other innocents smoldering
in the flames of drones controls of which Americans are holding
or other innocents killed by radical islam
when the shit goes down in South Asia or Africa.

"Je suis Charlie." Je pas certain.
Though his death is deeply dreadful, still we must contend
with his magazine's inordinate targeting
of brown folks at the edges of French cities.

"So where does all this rambling lead," you're asking, I expect.
Well, to a hope that some folks might for a moment reflect
how we we talk and tweet and mourn and post and write our heartfelt songs
and all sing along
just as long
as the dead are white Europeans.