One can be professional without being too serious and enjoy life isn't it?
On peut être professionnel sans se prendre trop au sérieux et profiter de la vie...Non?
English:
Trained by classical guitarist and concert artist/Guitar teacher Ehat Musa in the 80s in Paris.
I enjoyed his lessons so much...They promoted my finger style and agility, as well as exploring different music genres. I also studied music theory at Garches' Music School, close to Paris where Ehat was also teaching guitar. Then part of different bands as solo/rythmical guitarist and bass player, starting composing in the 90s when I met the woman who became my wife.
Left France in 2000 to move to UK to help our son with his studies and carried on playing music there. I am said to be bilingual. I can drive on the left and on the right at least!
Français:
Formé à la guitare classique par le concertiste et professeur de guitare Ehat Musa dans les années 80 à Paris.
J'ai tellement aimé ses leçons...Elles m'ont aidé à acquérir l'agilité et la souplesse des doigts sur le manche ainsi que le style de jeu. J'ai également étudié la théorie de la musique à l'école de musique de Garches, près de Paris. Puis, j'ai fait partie de plusieurs groupes en tant que guitariste solo et bassiste, en commençant à composer dans les années 90 lorsque j'ai rencontré la demoiselle devenue depuis ma femme. Nous quittons la France en 2000 pour le Royaume-Uni pour aider notre fils dans le cadre de ses études scolaires et je continue la musique là-bas.
On me dit bilingue. Je suis au moins capable de conduire à droite ou à gauche en tout cas !
My Very Last Track...
Mon tout
dernier morceau...
TRANSLATION OF THE LYRICS INTO ENGLISH
Title: "On My Island; Observations of an Expat"
(By Laurent Touchab, All music, all lyrics, all recordings, all mixing and mastering)
(French Song Translation of – “Dans mon île ; observations d’un expatrié”)
Brazil — I don’t know it at all,
Turkey — I don’t hang around much there...
Italy — seems there are good guys there,
As to France — I left this country against my will
South Africa, such a mess without Mandela,
England — no misery..never get bored with it
Mr. Trump, USA, Drowned in media hate every day.
What about me, what about me, what about me — what am I doin’ in all this mess?
On my island, far away — what are we doin’ in all this mess?
Some say “There’s nothin’ we can do,”
Some say “We need a war or two,”
Some try helpin’ through aid and care,
Others hide in their cottage lairs.
Me? I’m snackin’ on camembert,
Sausage, Sancerre, and aperitifs to spare.
On my island, lush and wild — rainy, rocky, soft and mild,
I am wondering what I’m doin’ in all this
Yeah, I am wondering what the hell we’re doin’ in all this.
What are we doin’ in all this?
What the hell are we doin’ in all this?
On my island, far from the fray,
On my island, where the media fades away,
On my island, I’m easy, I’m chill,
On my island, I found refuge on a rocky hill.
On my island, so far from it all,
On my island, no shady deals, no calls.
On my island, I’m quiet, I’m docile,
In Marie-Cécile’s arms — I slip in with no shame.
The media would like to make you believe
That one has to pit oysters,
That one has to coat himself in Viagra to better appreciate French fries and mussels!
That flies in Guinea are fartin’ up a storm, That they’ll pollute it all!
That one has to rub one’s butt on the floor to make one’s hair grow back like a magic craft!"
On my island, far from all that trash,
On my island, no media backlash,
On my island, I’m chill, away from all these fools,
On my island, we exile on a refuge rock…
But what am I doin’ in all this mess?
What the hell are we doin’ in all this? On my island…
What am I doin’ in all this noise?
What the hell can we do about all this? On my island…
What am I doin’ in all this?
What are we doin’ in all this?
I keep wonderin’ what I’m doin’ in all this
What can we do in all this?
(Spoken) The very beginning refers to the actual French anthem
“Arise, children of the land,” they said —
But those glory days are dead.
Tyranny now walks in disguise,
Hidden deep beneath the lies.
No heads will roll, not one will fall,
It’s all done at night behind the voting hall.
The guillotines are tucked away,
They’re scared as hell about them, every single day.
Well me… I could not care less,
When I get bored I braid my leg hair and this is it
When the time will come
Some heads might roll down the floor
But don’t tell Ginette — she can’t take that blow.
She hates when my songs stir up the crowd,
When I speak out just a little too loud…
Ginette’s voice (Laurent’s actual wife actually):
“But what are you doin’ in all this?
What the hell are you doin’ in all this?”
Laurent:
