I probably spend WAAAY too much time at my home page on the interwebz tubez, but today there was a post with a title about having no regrets. I’m old enough to remember Edith Piaf, and I’m afraid that some of you young ones aren’t. She was a tiny, magical thing. Here’s a small introduction to her, and I would encourage you to find more:
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien (the start of my remembering, because of the title of the post at Firedoglake), from 1962 when I was a senior in high school.
Milord (followed by a standing ovation that goes on forever)
La Vie En Rose (live, seemingly at a supper club?)
That’s only 3 songs from this tiny, magical chaunteuse. And if anyone ever tries to tell me that Judy Collins or Joni Mitchell or Gordon Lightfoot or James Taylor didn’t learn from her I’ll call you a liar.
Wow. That’s weird! The first-ever post after (I’m not making this up, you know…) 1234 about shit from the NYT is about Piaf. Well, maybe not so strange. Music is extremely important to me, having been raised by a musician. More Times folks tomorrow morning, but I just got all caught up in Piaf this evening. I hope you like her as much as I do.