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World Hit Festival 61 | Rouen, N&P | IC Thread

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Normandy and Picardy
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Democratic Socialists

World Hit Festival 61 | Rouen, N&P | IC Thread

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Fri Oct 22, 2021 4:21 pm

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ooc thread | draft thread | playlist


8:59 PM HNR
HNR = l'Heure Normale Republicaine/Republican Standard Time (Equivalent to GMT+1)

The final preparations had been made. For the third time in five contests, SRNP were preparing to broadcast live from Normandy and Picardy all around the multiverse. It might be a smaller show this time around - only 14, smaller than the previous two times - but all of the same worries and tensions were the same as any other time. It was time to again try and show the country off to the world, essentially bridging the gap between the Amiens and Le Havre hostings by looking both to its past and to its present, and indeed its future, a celebration of the two republic taken together at the point where they come together, in the federal capital of Rouen. Rouen, despite literally being the capital, had in fact never hosted the contest before, but that was all about to change, and SRNP were convinced that they would do it justice. As noted, despite the experience that SRNP now had plenty of experience hosting the show, this was to be their first time essentially trying to do it on a budget, given that really they were still recovering from the double hosting, and SRNP at the best of times was held together by sticky tape and backroom deals with union executives; indeed, they had only just managed to forestall a strike that would have taken place during the contest itself (though it would still be taking place after, not that they knew this yet). Of course, none of this was allowed to rise to the surface in front of the staff from the Overseership, now also led by a Normand luckily, or to any of the delegations - no need to scare anyone unduly. And, frankly, people had got used to the constant terror etched across the production teams' faces at this point. Anyway, I labour a point well past its comedic effect - the point is the show was ready, the button was ready to be pressed, the signal would go live, and the new IBA anthem, which for this contest at least had been adopted for the opening titles, would play.

On screens across Normandy and Picardy, from Amiens to Avranches, the SRNP ident played. A voice, the same voice as every time, but this time with a wonderful message. "Ce soir sur SRNP1, le 61eme Festival International de la Chanson, en live de Rouen. Attention, cette emission contient les clignotements" It was the same message they always heard, but of course one could never get past the fact of the city name. Eyes from around Normandy and Picardy were especially focused on their screens, parties were being had, and there was a generally celebratory vibe. Whilst of course the SRNP team were proud, they were hoping to save the bubbly and Camembert for later. Marie de l'Abre, the host for the evening, went through her preperatory technique, albeit she would not be on stage for a fair while yet, given the opening that had been planned (and onto which we'll finally get in a moment), following strongly in the Normand tradition that so much people either loved or hated. Marie of course now had experience, and evidently had done a good enough job to get invited again and get out of the point giving duties that she had become well known for. She desperately tried to harnass this in the meantime, although she knew that, in a strange way, once she was on the stage she would be fine, she'd go into the zone and present her heart out, for what it was worth. Meanwhile, the various acts all waited for their moment, with practically every emotion finding its expression, even some rays of hope it must be said, as everything was quickly sorted out. Again, they would have a bit more time to wait, for the same reasons. And speaking of that, let us get onto the show itself...




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tune

And so, we move into the first part of the opening act, entitled "Bienvenue, nos amis" (Welcome, our friends), an agreeable enough title I'm sure you'll agree. The music is composed by Normand house and electronica producer Giscard Gros, a pioneer of the genre in the Rouen scene of the 1990s, but also to this day continuing to produce music and find major success, sweeping up awards, and serving as a major inspiration to the modern scene whilst still being a vital part of it itself. Indeed, most of the music not being performed by the competing acts this evening will be house or electronic music, as part of this celebration of past, present and future, and as a major, if not the central part, of the Rouen music scene in comparison to the more classical orientation of Cherbourg. Hence, this opening, the opening in the stadium, the parade music, and the postcard music will all feature songs and artists from this vibrant community of talented artists. The video being broadcast and accompanying the music was produced in association with the University of Rouen Media Studies and Production department, as part of a scheme to allow students access to high quality productions and help them pick up the skills that they need, as well as part of the SRNP scheme to ensure that the contest was have positive long term consequences, a key part of its general mandate and especially emphasised in the funding agreement reached with the Federal Government for the contest. Worry not, however, for this does not mean it is going to be first year media studies standard, but rather they were guided and supported by the production team to pick up "vital workplace skills".

In any case, what had those skills been put towards? Much like for Amiens and Le Havre, this opening clip was to be about showing off Rouen as a city, as well as the surrounding area and its place within the country; in the case of Rouen, the Seine would be especially important, as the great large river that travels through the country, through the city, and out to sea, but also inland to France and Paris, ever an influence, even if one treated with some caution. Indeed, the opening was one of the sun rising over the Seine, the light jumping about as the river softly rippled, the shipping port - a nod to the city's important industrial past and present which would be showcased and embraced rather than hidden away. Otherwise, we get a whistlestop tour of the city's many delights, from architectural wonders like Rouen Cathedral - presented in both its physical form and via the Monet set of paintings - and its butter tower (including a wonderful shot of the bishop stood in the middle of the Choir surround by the choir as though they were some sort of posse), to representations of its literary and artistic culture, including the house of Gustave Flaubert (most famous for the novel Madame Bovary), and its more modern pursuits, as reflected in the night life and the electronic music scene itself - indeed, sections of this opening read as an excuse for the production team to go to a rave, but we'll gloss over that fact - but also ordinary life, people going about this business, in juxtaposition with the beautiful surroundings. Also appearing at random points are various discs with different wave patterns like the one in the logo - this of course is intentional. We thus also track the journey of these, until the final closing shots, brought back over the Seine and the city at night, with lights twinkling and reaching out into the dark night sky. One of the discs now appeared, spinning and zooming out until it was full sized, directly in the centre of the screen and with the same pattern as that of the logo, albeit moving about a bit as its actually a properly done graphic, not a still. The background then changed, such that the screen ultimately was filled with the logo of the contest for a few moments, before this faded away to give a shot from inside the arena, and so the next part of the opening was soon to begin...



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tune
[WIP]


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As the opening act came to an end, the logo ident briefly played to a little time to allow for ASR to begin moving off the stage and for the hostess for the evening, Marie de l'Abre, to finally come onto the stage. She would not be on the main stage itself, but rather on some of the side "panneling" beyond the greenroom area, where the puny acts themselves are not allowed to go, Marie's kingdom. As has happened last time in Amiens, Marie would mostly be speaking in French, although she would provide some English in this opening section. This is due to a provision of Normand broadcasting law defending the use of Normand French and requiring it form the majority of language used - though some dispensations have been more to account for the acts and need to clarify information for WHF. In any case, time to see what she had to say...

"Madames et Messieurs, tout le monde, bienvenue au Stade Métropole de Rouen, qui est d'habitude le domicile des meilleurs talents Normands, et ce soir du soixante et unième Festival International de la Chanson, qui est diffusé en live à des millions dans le multiverse!"

The crowd in the Stade unsurprisingly cheered rather loudly as Marie opened the show, indeed barely letting her get a word in edgeways, especially after she namechecked the contest itself. She gave the sort of look that a disappointed teacher might give a class of rowdy students - a signature look of hers she had cultivated over the years - and after a brief burst of laughter the crowd died down a little, and she was free to say the same thing again but in English.

"Mes apologies for my Franch, everyone else. Ladies and gentlemen, everyone, welcome to the Metropolitan Arena in Rouen, which is normally home to the best of Normand talent, and tonight the 61st World Hit Festival, which is being broadcast live to millions of people across the multiverse!"

Again, there was more cheering, in fact louder this time, perhaps the non-Normands in the crowd being appreciative for her efforts, even with the slight hiccough. And the applause went on. And on. Marie gave the look again, this time even having to raise her finger. The crowd slowly simmered down again, and, after briefly laughing to herself, she turned first to the audience and said...

"Vous etes si prévisibles, vous le savez?"
You are so predictable, you know?

Before turning back around to the cameras with rather a large grin on her face, before continuing...

"Nous sommes fiers de faire bon acceuil aux 13 autres pays pour ce festival ici, aux côtés de notre très chere Sophie Muret qui chantera pour les Deux Républiques. Vous recontrerez les artistes bientôt, mais pour l'instant, le nouveau superviseur de FIT, Christine Périault! Bonsoir Madame Superviseur, comment trouvez-vous le nouvel emploi?"
We are proud to welcome 13 other countries for this competition, alongside our very own Sophie Muret who will sing for the Two Republics [Normandy and Picardy]. You will meet the artists soon, but for now, here's the new overseer of the WHF, Christine Périault! Good evening Madame Overseer, how are you finding your new job?

For whatever reason, there was to be no repeating of any of this section in English, likely just for shits and giggles and to confuse the foreign audience, but also as it is quite possible they wouldn't really care about the new WHF overseer being introduced. Indeed, this may have been met with groans - with a nice random (albeit mercifully short) interview, the Normand style was making itself known - so better to have people be confused than angry. Of course the commentators could explain things, but imagine that happening. Anyway, it was time for Christine, sitting in her desk towards the back of the arena, to respond...

"Bonsoir Marie, bonsoir tout le monde. Je suis très fière à occuper le poste de superviseur, et encore une fois, je veux remercier mon prédécesseur au poste, M. Guy Autriche. Mais maintenant, les courants nous ont entraîné à Rouen, la capitale des Deux Républiques, et je suis certaine que c'est festival sera génial. Allons-y!"
Good evening Marie, good evening everyone. I am very proud to hold the host of overseer, and once again, I would like to thank my predecessor in the post, Mr Guy Autriche. But now, the currents have carried us to Rouen, the capital of our two republics, and I am certain it will be a great show. Take it away!

Well that was nice and painless, or relatively so. It was clear that Christine was not quite used to the cameras, which was to a certain extent rather cute, but pretty much out of pity. Anyway, the show moved ever onwards, and now it was time for Marie to waste even more of the time by introducing a pair of special guests...

"Nous sommes aussi rejoints par deux invités spéciaux ce soir, les gagnantes du dernier concours, Marianne Vidal et Anne-Marie Paquet, qui présentera le trophée à la fin de spectacle"

There was an almost deafening roar in the arena as the cameras turned to show Anne-Marie and Marianne at their place in the crowd (albeit with a circle made around them for this moment - and one wonders at which point they'll skulk off to the VIP lounger), which being a mostly Normand crowd went absolutely ballistic. Also shown was the trophy for the Grand Prix, a design by local Rouennais designer Guillaume Rochet. Once the crowd finally died down - and there was no attempt to control them this time - Marie again repeated the same thing in English.

"We are also joined by two special guests this evening, the winners of the last contest, Marianne Vidal and Anne-Marie Paquet, who will present the trophy at the end of the show"

More cheering naturally followed

"Mais maintenant, sans plus attendre, il est temps que vous rencontrez les artistes qui tenteront de réclamer le grand prix. Voilà, les interprètes!

"But now, without any further wait, it is time you met the artists you will seek to claim the Grand Prix. Here they are, the performers!"

And so the parade of nations began...
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Fri Oct 22, 2021 4:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Normandy and Picardy » Fri Oct 22, 2021 4:57 pm

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The list of all competing countries

And indeed that parade did begin to another Normand house tune, namely "En fin de compte" ("When all is said and done") by the highly successful duo Fraternité, ft. K.X., another producer, perhaps lesser known, from the Normand scene; indeed, this was the latter's one big success, after it shot up to number one and stayed there for weeks, before people started using it in ads and SRNP used it as background music such that everyone got fed up of it. But here we go, it's back again! The actual ceremony itself was nice and efficient, unusual characteristics for a Normand production, although only because, to be honest, they were already overruning. Each of the acts was brought on the stage alongside a "flagbearer", although rather a normal flag they were represented by one of the discs bearing the colours of their country's flag. It was thus extremely useful when the name of the country was also announced over the music, so that people knew what on earth they were actually looking at. Given that the greenroom is around the stage itself, the acts had an interesting route. They would come in from behind, walk up to the middle stage, and then walk back, as the next acts walked along, and into their designated spot in the delegation area. In any case, here are your competing countries...


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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry| phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2

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entry | phase 1 | phase 2
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:53 pm, edited 10 times in total.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

01 | #adb

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 4:32 am

01
Adab
Pan Amapardora - "Offshore"

Language(s): English
Tune: Ricky Martin – Livin’ la Vida Loca
Additional Information
Lyrics: Pan Amapardora
Music: Pan Amapardora


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Pan Amapardora


Adab’s entry at World Hit Festival 60, “The Cross” sung by Nergalsarusur Kas, placed 12th out of 21 nations, followed by another 12th-place finish at the 9th Junior World Hit Festival where the Cool Combo performed “Girl, I Love You”. While not an especially remarkable accomplishment, ABC Director-General Benji Akiya and the Board were nevertheless satisfied enough to greenlight Adab’s continued participation in the WHF and JWHF. Viewership numbers within the country had actually rivaled WorldVision, further validating Benji’s view that the WHF and JWHF were equally useful in showcasing the newest talents in Adabian music to an international audience. There would be no return to the public selection process which, while enthusiastically received by the public, had sapped an unacceptably large amount of the ABC’s time and money. Future contestants for WorldVision, the WHF, and the JWHF would be chosen internally.

The biggest news in Adab at the moment was the release of the Adab City Papers, hundreds of thousands of documents revealing offshore accounts owned by a slew of Adabian politicians, entrepreneurs, artists, and sportsmen in an attempt to avoid paying taxes. No one from the ABC was alleged to have been involved in tax avoidance, but Benji nevertheless found himself mentioned in several documents; he was variously described as a “dictator” who had turned the ABC into his “personal fief”, “impossible to work with”, and a “fat greedy pig” (even though he was rather thin). Amused and enraged, and seeking to cash in on the zeitgeist, Benji sought to exact revenge on his critics – some of whom he knew personally – by mocking them on the international stage. He personally began to approach several young artists, offering them the chance to perform on the WHF stage if they would just sing about the scandal.

It did not take long for Benji to find Adab’s next WHF contestant. Pan Amapardora had made quite a dent on the Adabian charts with his dance-pop songs, which comprised a large part of his commercially successful debut album. He promptly used his newfound fame to get involved in and bring publicity to good causes, most notably building a shelter for homeless and at-risk youth in his hometown of Uruk and advocating for free education. Knowing Pan’s proclivity for social justice, Benji privately approached him and asked him to represent Adab on the WHF stage “as long as you write something about those snakes”. Pan agreed, and a few days later emailed Benji with the completed lyrics and a rough vocal track. “It’s a dance kind of song, I imagine it’s got a bit of a Latino vibe to it,” he explained to Benji, “and yes, it’s about those snakes.”

“I like it,” Benji emailed back. “Go for it.”

The horns and drums from the backing track suddenly blared out of nowhere, with the LED panels at the back of the stage flashing rapidly in orange, breaking the darkness which hitherto had enveloped the stage. The Adabian fans who had made the journey to Rouen cheered, hollered, and waved their flags as the lights revealed Pan Amapardora standing at the center of the catwalk, wearing long golden robes which flowed down his knees and – blown by the wind – to the back over a black shirt. He was flanked on either side of the catwalk by two dancers on each side, roughly two to three steps behind him, standing on the central black platform wearing a black shirt with “MONEY, MONEY, MONEY” emblazoned across the cloth. The dancers – who were also serving as backing vocalists – imitated Pan’s movements, following him as he sashayed down the catwalk, pointing at random members of the audience with his left hand and making the shape of a dollar sign ($) with the right.

We’re into efficiency, cutting the expenses
Spend as much as we need to, let’s not go into the red

We’re financially prudent, looking out for the money
But lately the rates are going up, up, up and up, up

The revenues are drying, some housekeeping’s in order
Safeguard each and every asset, well that’s the name of the game
We’ll let nothing go to waste
Come on!


The LED panels turned white, with a big green dollar sign imposed across the five panels on each side, although the sign was soon blocked by a rain of banknotes of various countries – dollars, dinars, shekels, etc. – falling down the screens. The central stage was now green, with the catwalk quickly following suit. The dancers jumped onto the catwalk and followed Pan, dancing and swaying all the way to the end of the catwalk as he launched into the chorus. Meanwhile, the panels shifted to showing row after row of spreadsheets and financial statements, gradually scrolling down, openly displaying the names of Adabian public figures who were implicated in the Adab City Papers, including Benji Akiya’s critics.

Our accountants said, we’re taking our business offshore
From sea to shining sea, taking our business offshore
Tropical island to another tropical island
It’s business-friendly, taking our business offshore
Come on!
Taking our business offshore
Come on!
We’re taking our business offshore


Pan and the dancers suddenly turned their backs on the audience, and Pan would continue singing in this position, remaining near the end of the catwalk. The panels changed to show what appeared to be a map of the world, pointing out countries and territories where Adabian citizens were alleged to have set up offshore accounts. While Pan remained in his current position, the dancers marched to the back of the stage, where they were met by four men who handed each dancer a briefcase before disappearing off the stage. The dancers then split up as they went off the catwalk, with two on each side of the catwalk on the central stage. The dancers then walked to the end of the stage at the direction of the green room, where they laid down the briefcases and began to open them.

Woke up with a shell company, but I’m not a shell of myself
We’re on the peak, watching the cash flowing
In a country we’ve never heard of

Assets been taken care of
Registered across the sea
Not subject to taxation
According to the law
Minimizing expenses
Alright!


Pan then turned on his toes to once again face the audience, exuberantly extending his arms, as the briefcases were opened to reveal stacks of banknotes in a multitude of currencies. The dancers shouted “Read my lips, no new taxes!” as they started hurling the money at the green room sofas, catching at least several delegations off-guard. Pan, meanwhile, started walking backwards, pointing at the world map on the panels behind him along the way.

Our accountants said, we’re taking our business offshore
From sea to shining sea, taking our business offshore
Tropical island to another tropical island
It’s business-friendly, taking our business offshore
Alright!
Taking our business offshore
We’re taking our business offshore


As the audience was treated to a brief guitar solo in the backing track, Pan jumped off the catwalk and began running around the perimeter of the central stage, watching as his dancers launched every last stack of banknotes at the green room and the floor around the stage was now littered with paper money, tapping them on the shoulder as he passed by and pointing at the green room, encouraging his dancers to empty the briefcases. “You can keep it!” one of the dancers was overheard saying to the dumbfounded delegations. “They’re fake anyway!” The panels meanwhile changed to display a slideshow of various Adabian figures implicated in the scandal, naming each and every one of them.

The revenues are drying, some housekeeping’s in order
Safeguard each and every asset, well that’s the name of the game
We’ll let nothing go to waste
Come on!

Our accountants said, we’re taking our business offshore
From sea to shining sea, taking our business offshore
Tropical island to another tropical island
It’s business-friendly, taking our business offshore
Come on!


As the astonished delegations grabbed their share of the fake money, the dancers finally emptied the briefcases, throwing the last stacks of the money off the stage. Having sprinted around the perimeter of the stage, Pan now jumped back onto the catwalk, where he was soon joined by his dancers. The central stage once again turned black and the catwalk red, like they were at the beginning of the performance. Once again they made their way to the end of the catwalk closest to the crowd, the dancers following Pan as he extended his arms and pointed at the crowd several times.

Our accountants said, we’re taking our business offshore
From sea to shining sea, taking our business offshore
Tropical island to another tropical island
It’s business-friendly, taking our business offshore
Come on!
Taking our business offshore
Come on!
We’re taking our business offshore

Taking, taking, taking our business offshore, woo!
Come on!


Pan and the dancers finally reached the end of the catwalk, with the dancers lining up across the width of the catwalk about two steps behind Pan as they sang the last few lines of the song together in unison.

Come on!
Taking our business offshore
Taking, taking, taking our business offshore
Taking, taking, taking, taking!


The music came to a sudden halt, the lights dimmed around the stage, and the panels returned to a plain orange before completely fading into the black. As the audience applauded them, particularly the cheering and hollering Adabian fans, Pan and the dancers looked around them at the green room, gesturing at that direction. “Yes, yes, just take it, take it all,” said one of the dancers as they got off the catwalk and strode around the stage, picking up the now-empty briefcases and making sure no paper money was left on the floor around the stage. As darkness enveloped them, they disembarked from the stage and joined their fellow performers in the green room, picking up the money that was left on the floor and distributing them to the nearest person they could find.
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 5:07 am, edited 2 times in total.
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02 | #cai

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 4:41 am

02
Azab Indosiar
Pocong - "Suara Hati Pocong"

Language(s): Indonesian
Title Translation: Pocong's Inner Voice
Tune: Eta Terangkanlah
Additional Information
Lyrics: Pocong
Music: Tahu Bulat
Trigramme: CAI

Image



Pocong is not sure why they are there. A divine, author godly voice informs them that it's a punishment for them due to their past sins, and the collective government of Azab Indosiar thought that it's a great idea. Pocong is given some make-over though, so as to appear presentable in the compulsory white outfit.



Pocong hopped onto the stage, confusing the audience with their appearance. Still, pocong use one of their hand to hold onto the mic and sings, causing a chilly atmosphere to befell the place

Pocong mau curhat
Dia mau rehat
Sudah capek buat
Jadi bahan candaan

Malam itu
Loncat-loncat
Pocong mau
Terbang cepat


The stage lights start to dim, and combined with the artifical fogs, are giving the stage a ghostly vibe. Pocong gives a wry smile at the audience. They know that it's not matching at all with the song, but what Pocong can do about it? It's the council's designations, after all.

Dia ketemu...
Mbak kunti...
Ketawa hihihi...
Kilau behel gigi..

Hati berdebar...
Berdebar..debar...
Oh inikah cinta ?
Bahagia saat jumpa..


At this point, for some reason, a group of dancers are bringing a random priest onto the stage under the direction of the author. Pocong looks nervously, trying to hop away from him.

Pocong mau nembak
Pocong mau nembak
Tapi kunti menolak
Sudah sama leak

Menderita
Hati menderita...ta...
Ditolak cinta
Kenapa tiba-tiba

Air mata,
Dalam duka...
Tak merubah
Pedihnya rasa..


The priest charged at Pocong, who is hopping in fear. They then sing the last line of the song, before they are hopping away to escape the exorcist.

Insaflah...
Insaflah.. a..a
Keluarkan aku
Dari siksa ini..


The audience is left confused.


Pocong wants to tell a story,
They want to take a rest
They are tired of become,
the butts of jokes

That fateful night,
Hoppity hoppity hop
Though, pocong really wants
to fly so fast

Pocong then meets,
A beautiful lady
Laughing to herself
Oh, those shiny braces..

This heart is pounding...
Is pounding..is pounding...
Oh, is this love?
The joy from meeting you..

Pocong wants to confess,
Pocong wants to confess,
But the lady rejects
A boyfriend she has

I'm in pain
This heart is in pain...
Why is it so sudden
That my love is rejected?

Oh, the tears,
In grieve...
They don't change
This sorrowful feeling..

Repent...
Please repent,
Have to get out, me
From this misery..
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03 | #cle

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 4:48 am

03
Carrelie
Marie Loisenne - "Memories"

Language(s): English
Tune: ABBA - I Still Have Faith in You
Additional Information
Lyrics: Marie Loisenne, Martin Lebefvre
Music: Marie Loisenne


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Les Cerises from left to right: Anton Leveux, Camille Bernier, Marie Loisenne, Victor Raseime
This is them in 1974, though in a callback they're wearing these outfits tonight.



Legendary, emotive, powerful. All of these words have been used to describe Carrelian musical icon Marie Loisenne and her band Les Cerises. For the last 50 years, they've seen great success both in Carrelie and worldwidae. Beginning from humble roots in the tiny village of Marille, Douria, Marie and Les Cerises has grown from a small town band to a national sensation to an icon the likes of which Carrelie has never seen before and likely never will see again. However, one day in 1987, they announced that they would not be producing any more music as a band for the foreseeable future, and Carrelie was devastated.

You're born, you live, you die, nobody remembers you: such is life, but not for Marie. As a soloist and the head of Les Cerises, her name seems immortal, and at the age of 64 her fame only seems to be growing. With 20 number 1 hits under her belt, her success is no longer measured with the likes of one-hit wonders, but with the likes of The Beatles and other worldwide acts. Years after she steps out of the limelight she is likely to be remembered as a legend of Carrelian pop, an icon, a visionary.

In July 2020, a rumour emerged that Les Cerises was getting back together to produce a new album for the first time in over 30 years. This was confirmed with the announcement of the album "Future", and the release on its first single in September this year. In addition to this, Radio Dourie and CarrelieOne announced that the group would represent Carrelie in the next World Hit Festival in Rouen after an extremely disappointing result in the 60th contest. With this, they hope that Carrelie's results will be propelled to new heights.


14 octobre, 16h12
Un banc, un abre, une réunion

Marie cycles along the harbour. It's a lovely autumnal day in Rouen, and she's soaking up the season before the big day. Still haunted by the jet lag, she decides to take a seat on a bench as she runs out of breath. Passing by she sees familiar figures, perhaps old audience members saved in her memory, perhaps old aquaintances, perhaps friends in another life, though one stands out. One woman, walking with a particular strut about her, a crowd forming around her. Was this some sort of actress? A singer? A political figure? Whoever they were, they seemed to be getting closer and closer.

"Madame Loisenne?" enquired the figure, now standing over her.

She was snapped out of her thoughts, responding with a, "Oui?". However, looking up, she found that this was no ordinary woman, this was the Empress herself, in all her glory.

She scrambled to her feet, beginning a curtsy, though the Empress stopped her. "No need for that, Marie. I'm simply here to wish you the best of luck in the competition, perhaps we should meet together later today, if that would be adequate?"

"Of course, and thank you," replied the bumbling and admittedly embarassed Marie, "It would be my pleasure."

And so it was set. Two Carrelian figures would meet together on foreign soil, for pleasure rather than toil.

"Marie, voulez-vous du café ou du thé?" asked Edith-Marie, sitting upright in her chair, stubborn and clearly rather nervous herself.

The café was snug, located in a corner just off of a large road in Rouen, near the city centre. Leaves fell in front, as the autumn was truly ushered into the coastal city. Its beauty and elegance almost distracted Marie, who was only able to give a short response, in the form of, "Juste du thé, s'il vous plaît."

And thus the two spent the night speaking of nothing too pressing, and eventually parted ways for the first and likely final time, and both gained a new memory that they would cherish forever.



Memories... such was the name of her song, which she contemplated as she walked out onto stage. She dawdled behind her compatriots as she pondered her writings, produced with the help of her closest companion and fellow band member Anton Leveux, the only man she could confide in truly after her husband's untimely death in the 90s

The staging is simple as it begins, and the music starts slow. Anton and Victor stand behind Marie and Camille, on the piano and the electric guitar. The lack of light in the beginning is not a comfort to Marie, though it lights up quickly as the verse progresses. She just has to sing.


Holding my memories, of days gone by,
The memories of our love, oh how,
Did we not see it then? What we would make?
And never again will we see such things we take.


The heartfelt melody is promoted as Camille joins Marie in singing, signifying her love and support for the other. While not as famous as Marie, Camille is always happy to stand with her, at her side, and has been for all these years. Marie knows that she couldn't ever ask for a better friend.

We were making memories,
But how did we not notice?
I will always be reminiscing,
Of a day way back then.


The LED screens light up with a soft white, almost a cream, lighting up the stage with them. The camera pans to show the stage in all its glory, the band appearing as small in comparison. However, their words still translate clearly to both the screen and the audience. Marie takes a second to remember days gone by herself.

I’m holding memories, too hard to say,
They’re dear to me, they won’t fade away.
Still in my older age, it’s possible,
To make new memories directly from the heart.


Does she have it in her? Already, she's questioning her faith in her own lyrics. She was always a turbulent soul. The camera pans in, and in the audience she spots Vian Genamman, her cousin and confidant. Wasn't she supposed to be in Densmouth? Nevertheless, she is motivated to keep going, for her cousin, if not for herself.

We were making memories,
But how did we not notice?
I will always be reminiscing,
Of a day way back then.


Another bridge as the song builds. Camille lends Marie her support in such a time - she needs it.

The arena explodes as the chorus arrives, a flash of light crossing the stage as spotlights shine down on the two. Truly a heartfelt performance, it could only get better.


Though those days have passed us,
There is no reason why,
We can’t make new memories,
Our story won’t end, until we die
Though it’s true some have passed on,
From memories we shared,
We can stay together, in soul and spirit,
We can still bring.


And then it dies down again. In this off section, Camille takes the lead, singing directly from her heart. It's a performance never seen before in Carrelie, and it likely will never be seen again by the nation. The pride is practically swelling.

Still making memories, cherish my days,
These wondrous things we do to get us to this age.

We were making memories,
But how did we not notice?
Though I will always be reminiscing,
Our days will still be seized.
I still have it in me.


Marie was determined to keep her legacy and that of her band continuing, she would not falter. The encouragement from the rest of the arena was incomparable, it swelled with support and courage - Marie could feel herself being uplifted. And then she saw it: the face of the Empress. She shot Marie a wave, encouraging her to keep singing with all her might.

We can be the winners,
Our memory survives,
Of our days in the light,
We tell our story, all will remind.
We can still be joyous,
Even in advanced age,
Though we must remember,
We’ll tell their story,
We shall create.

We can be the winners, (Holding my memories)
Our memory survives, (We were making memories)
Of our days in the light,
We can still do it,
We have survived.


And thus it is time to close. They had all made it this far, how much farther could they go? It's unknown, but they were almost done.

Still making memories, cherish my hours,
These wondrous things we do to get us all this far.
We’re still making memories.


And thus it has ended. A single tear drops from Marie's face as the camera pans in.
"Thank you Rouen, God bless you all, thank you so much!"
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04 | #sdr

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 4:53 am

04
Samudera Darussalam
The Pambudi Sisters - "Selamat Datang"

Language(s): Samuderan Malay
Title Transcription: N/A
Title Translation: Welcome
Tune: Cristina Vee_Dakara Hitori Ja Nai Cover
Additional Information
Lyrics: Riana Pambudi, Rani Pambudi
Music: Rahayu Pambudi, Ratna Pambudi


Image
Riana and Rani Pambudi



Samudera is not exactly a new entrant in WHF, for the reason that it has sent some of its delegations to previous competitions. However, it has a track of infrequent participation, something that puzzles even ordinary Samuderans, as it is not entirely dry of musical talents (the country recently has produced several plays that are popular nationally, for example). The Samuderan broadcasting authority (BPS) is also quiet towards the issue, with the only explanations it would offer is "internal problems". Nevertheless, the BPS decided to try its luck for some reason this time by giving the job to a Samuderan all-female musical group, the "Pambudi Sisters".

The "Pambudi Sisters" is a newcomer in Samuderan musical industry, being formed just a few years ago by the daughters of Aris Pambudi, a former Samuderan actor. Consisting of Rahayu, Ratna, and the twins Riana and Rani Pambudi, the group is a rising star in the country, with some of their singles managed to top the Samuderan chart for some time.



The stage lights dimmed as thin smokes began to spread on the stage, giving it a hazy white look. The camera pans out to give a first-person perspective from the backseat at the auditorium, as a single female voice began to sing, followed by the other one.

Aaaa, Aaaaa, aaaaa


At the same time, the stage lights began to brighten, illuminating the still unrecognizable two figures who are walking on the catwalk to the direction of the camera. The camera began to move to the right, showing the scene of the stage as the lights abruptly brighten and change into a mix of red and white. Two smiling young women, one clad in cream colored dress with her black hair flowing freely around her shoulder, and the other one clad in peach colored dress with a brown turban, stopped their steps and synchronously spread their free hand as they sing the line:

Selamat datang !


The two traded smiles to each other briefly before they are singing the next line in the song while facing the audience. As they began to sing, the lights start to flicker in tune with the music.

da da da da da da da da da da
Waaa, wahaa
da da da da da haaa


A group of male dancers clad in simple grey clothes then started to appear behind the two, slowly dancing their way to the singing girl who wears cream colored dress, Rani. The camera then moves to the other side of the stage, showing as the dancers began to kneel and assume a begging position around Rani, who in turn crossed her hands. Meanwhile, Riana stops singing as she began to walk a few steps forward. As she stops, she spreads her hands towards the direction of her twin sister, as if showing something, and sings:

Inilah dunia kami
Yang penuh rasa apati
Urang susah mana kita peduli


The camera zooms in toward Rani, who is still standing in the same spot. The girl in cream colored dress immediately sings back in response to the last line that her sister sung, while slowly shaking her head and smiles, emphasizing the line she sings:

Tak peduli..


At this point, the dancers are standing up from their previous position and started to dance. The lights on the stage except the ones illuminating Riana started to dim. The camera then moves to focus on the girl, who continues to sing without her sister:

Uang, status, ketenaran
Mammon kita Tuhankan
Tak ada kawan
Tak ada lawan...


White, bright lights suddenly appeared over Rani, who are now standing on the shoulders of two dancers. She raises a fist onto the air, and sings:

Yang penting aku menang !


The lights changed into bluish colour as the two dancers gracefully put Rani down. The girl then moves to stand beside her smiling sister, and at the same time, they moved their free hand to their heart and sings:

Sungguh kita terbutakan

(terbutakan)

Bahkan abaikan kemanusiaan
Walau kita mengaku manusia
T'rus mengejar keuntungan
Walau di bawah papan

(oh)


The girls then spread their free hand as if extending a welcoming gesture, and continue to sing:

Selamat datang di dunia
Oh manusia !
Bagaikan alam rimba
Hidup kita
Bersiaplah,
Tak ada belas kasihan


As one, the girls place their hands on top of their hearts again as Rani sings.

(Oh manusia !)


The camera focuses on the duo as the girls start to sing together again. At the same time, they made the same welcoming gesture, this time with wider smiles:

Selamat datang, wahai manusia
Di kerasnya kehidupan
Tak berprikemanusiaan
Mari bersamaaa
Mari bersamaaa
Kita mengubahnya

da da da da da da da da da da
Waaa


The camera pans out as the duo and the dancers raised their fists into the air, the lights give a purplish atmosphere onto the stage.

Selamat berjuang !


With the end of the song, the sisters and the dancers smile at the audience and bowed, before leaving the stage.




Aaaa, aaaa, aaaaa
Welcome, welcome!

da da da da da da da da da da
Waaa, waaa
da da da da da aaa

Welcome to our world,
Apathetic to its core
None cares 'bout the poor
(None cares)

Money, fame, prestige
Mammon is worshipped
Friend, there is none
Nor does opponent
As long as I win!

O how blinded we are, (we are blinded)
How humanity is forsaken
Even by us, the mankind
Profit, we keep chasing on
Though we lied under that plank* (oh)

Welcome to our world,
O fellow human!
Just like the wilds,
Our life is
So get ready,
As there is no mercy
(O humans!)

O human, welcome!
To a life of hardship,
An inhumane feat
So come on
So come on
We are changing it

da da da da da da da da da da
Waaa

Keep on fighting !

*a Samuderan proverb that roughly means, "even in death". The word 'plank' refers to a wooden coffin.
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05 | #pcu

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 5:05 am

05
Pemecutan
Arisatya - "Dimana Itu Cinta?"

Language(s): Indonesian
Title Translation: Where is Love?
Tune: Judika - Apakah ini Cinta?
Additional Information
Lyrics: Satya Werdana
Music: Antonius Huda


As Pemecutan break into the top 3 in both WHF and JWHF, UBC as the organizer and official broadcaster of the song festival officially announced the entrance of the nation to the 61st World Hit Festival immediately. With such a success, the organizer once again look for a song that would complement the result of the last competition. And their decision is back to pop. After a series of internal selection and online voting, it is reveal that the song which will represent Pemecutan is Dimana Itu Cinta? by Arisatya.

Born with the name Ngakan Putu Arisatya Putra Wardhana, this 32 years old singer and songwriter is having an ups and downs career. Raise from a middle income family in a small town of Cengkilung, Arisatya is interested in music from early age. He was joined his school choir group from elementary school until high school. During his school years, he had won several local singing competitions with his choir group or as solo.

Around 10 years ago, he was compete in Bintang Radio dan Televisi Nasional (English: National Radio and Television Star), a singing competition which was held annually by Pemecutan Radio and Television Association. In the grand final, he defeated delegation from Kanginan and become the youngest winner in the competition. He then given 3 years record contract from Mandala Record, one of the most prestigious record company in the country. The contract come as part of his winning at the competition. He released a self title album in 2013 which got a mild success. He was touring the country to promote his album together with the competition's alumni. His second album released in late 2015, near the end of his contract with the record. Seeing his prospect, the recording company agree to extend his contract for another 3 years. His second album, Kusuma was meet a positive review and it break top 10 album chart. Some of his singles were also made into top 5 single chart. But this success was not last long.

Speculation over his sexual orientation arise after his holiday picture to Canggu was leaked to the internet. On the pictures, Arisatya is together with a man in an intimate and loving gesture. But he remain silent for the time being. In late 2016, he finally reveal his sexual orientation which have made some headlines and gossip from the earliest of his career. After revealing that he is gay, the recording company break the contract deal. The organizer of Bintang Radio dan Televisi was also erase his winning record from the competition. His record sale was plummet immediately after the announcement.

It is better to be true to yourself than to hide it for the rest of your life. Well, I'm not a perfect person. And this is my truth that I don't want to hide anymore. I'm embracing myself.

- Arisatya
From his announcement speech.

After the announcement, Arisatya decided to step back from music industry. He is back to his home town and started to open up a cafe with his partner. They are living peacefully outside the spotlight.

Image
Arisatya (front) and his partner, Deny Sulistyo (back)

In his hometown, Arisatya begin active in charity. He is focusing on orphans. He is also started to joined in the local LGBT organization and help them to fund the organization program especially related to health issue. In early 2019, he was being contacted by the principle in his former high school. The principle ask him to teach for the school's music and art extracurricular which is he delightly accepted. He is also begin to sing on stage.

I know about his love of music and I can see his frustration after taking a break from the industry. I always encourage him to come back but maybe the hurt was still there. And now, I'm glad he make the comeback. One little step at a time.

- Deny Sulistyo

During his performance for World AIDS Day celebration in 2019, Arisatya was approached by a talent agent. He was being ask for a recording contract at Gangga Records. Arisatya not immediately take the offer. He needs around a month of consideration before agreeing. In mid 2020, he is signing a record deal with Gangga Records for 4 albums with unlimited singles released.

It is a hard decision for me to comeback to the industry. But with my family and partner support, I hope I can walk through it.

- Arisatya


The song Dimana Itu Cinta? is the first single that he release after the comeback. He is glad that he can work with a famous composer, Antonius Huda. Although the song was written by Satya Werdana as Arisatya is still decline to write a song. However, Satya write the song based on Arisatya teenage and pre-adult experience. With his unique self, it is harder for him to get a stable relationship. He have had several heartbreaks which makes him questioning about love. Is there a true love for him? That lingering question is becoming the heart of the song.

Arisatya is happy with the song's lyrics. And the composing process is not quite hard. Antonius Huda definitely give a proportion where Arisatya could show his vocal range in the song. And Arisatya is very satisfied for it. The song is released on last August as a teaser for his upcoming album. The album itself is set to be release on November.

I'm so happy. It's like bearing a child.

- Arisatya

The song reached top 5 in it's initial release and peak at number 2. It is continue to be in the top 10 for almost 5 weeks. With the selection of the song as Pemecutan entry for the upcoming WHF, it's position on the single chart rise again. Breaking the top 5 and seating at 3.




Arisatya wait anxiously at the back stage as he see the performance of the other contestant at the stage. His boyfriend, Deny Sulistyo is right besides him giving him support and encouragement. As the performer finished, they briefly encounter each other at the back stage. The host announce for Arisatya to perform. The postcard of Pemecutan can be seen showing at the 10 LED screen on both side of the stage. Being cut into five pieces in each side which combine into one unity postcard. The stage turn to darkness as the intro of the is playing together with the back singers who is humming through the intro. One large light shine from the back of Arisatya which showing the silhouette of him. He begin to sing verses by verses of the song. He make connection with the camera as it is showing the close up of him. From side to side then to front before zooming out. The light only give a good look of him from the chest above. He doesn't do much movement as he just standing with a microphone in front of him. As he sing the 'Disini ku berdiri' part, he use both his hands to pointed out himself which then move to his chest (or heart) when he reach 'Dengan hancurnya hati' part.


Ketika hati berbalut perih
Luka yang trus mendalam
Tak bisa terobati

Disini ku berdiri
Dengan hancurnya hati
Yang tak kan utuh lagi

Ku telah lelah kini
Membawa luka ini
Berharap ada cinta


The camera turn from a close up view into full frontal view as he open wide his hands when he reached the chorus. The light is also shine from each his sides which ultimately showing the full of him. Arisatya looks stunning with silver grey suit and pants together with a black shirt inside. The camera give a rotate view as he continue to sing the chorus which ended with a frontal view.


Bila seandainya cinta ada disana
Haruskah ku menunggu disini
Dan bila akhirnya tiada cinta disana
Biar lah ku sendiri


Arisatya take off the mice from the stand and walk into the front of the red line as he sings the verses again. The light is a little dimmed to give a softer vibe. The camera continue to follow Arisatya's movement towards the front of the stage. He stops then moving left and right, interacting with the audience. Several times he is pointed out his chest (or heart) especially when he sing 'Di saat hati ingin percaya' and 'Kepingan hati ini' part. The camera give a close up look of him as he spread one hand while the other still holding the mic. He enter the chorus again.


Di saat hati ingin percaya
Akan adanya cinta
Ku berakhir terluka

Ingin kuraih lagi
Kepingan hati ini
Yang telah lama mati

Sulit percaya lagi
Akan cinta yang murni
Dimana itu cinta?


He rise his voice as he reach the chorus. The camera is zooming out and make a 180 degrees view of him. While the lights are dancing as its take turn to shine. It match with the beat of the chorus part.


Bila seandainya cinta ada disana
Haruskah ku menunggu disini
Dan bila akhirnya tiada cinta disana
Biar lah ku sendiri


The backing singers go with the flow during the coda as Arisatya belted his voice until he reach his high note giving a rusty timbre. The camera give a 360 degrees view as he belted his voice. Arisatya almost kneel down as he reach the second high note. The lights suddenly swarm him with lights from every sides making him glimmering with lights. And the camera suddenly zooming out and make 360 degrees view while Arisatya looks up and spread his hand. The backing singers continue to sing and Arisatya rejoined at 'Ku menunggu disini' part. The music abruptly slow down as the song ended. The lights dimmed out as the music fade out.


(Dimana itu cinta?)
Dimana itu cinta
(Dimana itu cinta?)
Cinta...cinta...
(Dimana itu cinta?)
Cinta...
(Dimana itu cinta?)
Sulit percaya lagi
Dimana itu cinta…cinta….

(Bila seandainya cinta ada disana
Haruskah ku menunggu disini
)
Ku menunggu disini
Dan bila akhirnya tiada cinta disana
Biar lah ku sendiri


The audiences are giving around of applause while some give a standing ovation. The lights at the stage are on again with Arisatya is standing there ate center. He bow down thanking for the positive feedback from the audience. The hosts are taking the show and once again announce Arisatya name. Arisatya bowing once again before giving a namaste pose and walk away to the back stage.



When the heart is wrapped in pain
Deep wounds
Can't be treated

Here I stand
With a broken heart
Which is not complete anymore

I'm tired now
Bring this wound
Hope there will be love

If only love was there
Should I wait here
And when in the end there is no love there
Let me be alone

When the heart wants to believe
There will be love
I ended up hurt

I want to get it again
This piece of heart
Who has been dead for a long time

Hard to believe anymore
Of pure love
Where is love?

If only love was there
Should I wait here
And when in the end there is no love there
Let me be alone

(Where is love?)
Where is love?
(Where is love?)
Love...love...
(Where is love?)
Love...
(Where is love?)
Hard to believe anymore
Where is love…love….

(If only love was there
Should I wait here
)
I wait here
And when in the end there is no love there
Let me be alone
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06 | #bri

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 5:18 am

06
Britonisea
Trey Allen - "Butterflies"

Language(s): English
Tune: Clinton Kane - I Guess I'm In Love
Additional Information
Lyrics: Tony Garrison, Trey Allen
Music: Jojo Bentley-Smith


Image
Trey Allen: Trey will represent Britonisea at the World Hit Festival with the emotional ballad, "Butterflies"

After Britonisea's second-worst result at a World Hit Festival, Trey Allen represents the country with the song "Butterflies" in a bid to get Britonisea back to the top ten as we return to Normandy & Picardy...



After the audience came in with a cheer, Trey Allen stood alone on the vast stage that the Normands had built. It was a unique style - it looked pretty great on camera and there were some cool effects that you could do with it. BVC wanted to go for a simple approach with the song which is undoubtedly the slowest song that Britonisea has sent in recent times. Joining Trey on the stage were some people who were playing strings instruments but they weren't seen yet. The sound of a piano could be heard, as Trey started singing. The camera was slightly out of focus at first as it slowly moved from a mid-shot to a close-up, before revealing Trey looking deeply into the lens.

Oh, I'm a mess,
Without trying I've broken your heart again,
Didn't mean to hurt you, I was just selfish
I'm impulsive, I'm sorry, I've only got excuses

And you're upset,
I feel guiltier with every single tear shed.
I want to hold you, but how could I?
When...I'm the source of all of your angst
When I'm the problem, I am...


As the camera was fully in focus, we could see that Trey looked slightly damp as though he had been in the rain - but he looked rather stylish instead of soaked. In the background, the screens were simulating rain falling down from the sky, with a shield around Trey. The square LEDs around the stage (which are red in the preview photos) were quite sparkly - slowly fading in and out on different sections of the LED. We move on to the chorus, with the lights around the stage slowly fading away as a Steadicam came on to focus on Trey.

I see that you still love me, no,
You can't hide that away from me
I wish you could see the feeling's mutual.

Every single time I lay my eyes on you,
My stomach fills with butterflies,
I feel brand new, hopeful for the future
I might not show my feelings well,
My actions may tell a different tale
I must make it clear - I do want you


As the Steadicam came onto the stage, a single spotlight was focused on Trey. It was almost as if time had stopped - a truly intimate feeling as the boy shut his eyes, and lowered his eyebrows in concentration as he tried to delicately hit the notes he was supposed to. During the chorus, as the main piano chords came in, a drop of colour filled the arena as we switched to an establishing shot of the beautiful stage. The audience cheered as we went into the verse again...

I've apologised,
Your trust in me is gone, you've given up
The damage is irreparable - it's my fault
What have I done, I regret it
I've lost it all

I see that you still love me, no,
You can't hide that away from me
I wish you could see the feeling's mutual


The strings instruments players all came in, being lit up in a deep blue. They were all wearing white - all of them looking like angels. The screens were showing the depths of an ocean - with the top of the screen showing a source of light, which we were getting closer and closer to as we got to the chorus of the song. As we reached the chorus, the screen exploded with a large white light...

Every single time I lay my eyes on you,
My stomach fills with butterflies,
I feel brand new, hopeful for the future
I might not show my feelings well,
My actions may tell a different tale
I must make it clear - I do want-

Can you forgive me?
You're my everything,
Don't punish me any longer


Stage lights circled around the arena during the second chorus as Trey used those vocal cords to reach hearts across the Multiverse. After singing on the spot, the man solemnly walked down the catwalk, with a spotlight following him as he walked down. He wasn't looking at the camera, looking down on the floor in deep thought. As he sang the lyric, "Don't punish me any longer", he looked up and kicked the floor, with the catwalk quickly changing into an array of colours as butterflies appeared around the LEDs. Trey continued singing on the spot with as much strength as he could.

Every single time I lay my eyes on you,
My stomach fills with butterflies,
I feel brand new, hopeful for the future
I might not show my feelings well,
My actions may tell a different tale
I must make it clear - I do want you


At the end of the song, there was a cheer. "Thank you so much!" Trey shouted in the microphone before it was time for New Douria to take their place on the stage. Those that were playing the orchestral instruments also stood up a bowed.
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07 | #ndo

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 5:21 am

07
New Douria
Éturie - "Out My Life"

Language(s): English
Tune: Bucks Fizz - My Camera Never Lies
Additional Information
Lyrics: Jack Delisen, Edie Dupont
Music: Rita Remere


We are too out of touch,
Since you’ve gone out of town,
Are you gonna keep me around?
I’ll be moving out soon, should I try reaching you,
And I must say it:

I just can’t see it anymore, can you?
And ev’ryday I feel we’re drifting,
Have you thought about what I said,
have you?
‘Cause there’s clearly no more surprise,
I’ll cut you out my life.


I’ll cut you out my life,
I don’t see why,
Oh, why I’d need you anymore
(You’re out of my life, o-oh)
I’ll cut you out my life starting now,
Don’t see use in keeping you around.
(I’m cutting you out my life)
I’ll stop keeping you around, (I’m cutting you out my life)
I’ll cut you out my life starting now.


It’s a 4:30 train, mid-afternoon I’ll go,
And I hope you enjoyed the show,
Don’t try looking for me if you really do care,
And don’t try to follow me.

You don’t know what you’re good for, do you?
Even though the signs are all clear,
I just feel like you’re a bore,
I do,
It’s really clear there’s no compromise,
I’ll cut you out my life.


I’ll cut you out my life,
I don’t see why,
Oh, why I’d need you anymore
(You’re out of my life, o-oh)
I’ll cut you out my life starting now,
Don’t see use in keeping you around.
(I’m cutting you out my life)
I’ll stop keeping you around, (I’m cutting you out my life)
I’ll cut you out my life starting now.


You’re gone, you’re out, you’re never…
I’ll cut you out (I’ll cut you out)
Cut you out of my life (Life, o-oh)


I’ll cut you out my life starting now,
Don’t see use in keeping you around.
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
I’ll cut you out my life,
I don’t see why,
Oh, why I’d need you anymore
(You’re out of my life, o-oh)
I’ll cut you out my life starting now,
Don’t see use in keeping,
Don’t see use in keeping, Don’t see use in keeping you.


Oh, oh, oh, oh (I’ll cut you out of my life)
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 5:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
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08 | #fls

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:08 pm

08
Filshia
SIXters - "In nitum"

Language(s): Filshian, English
Title Transcription: N/A
Title Translation: In The Clouds
Tune: DREAMCATCHER - Black or White
Additional Information
Lyrics: Alina Famiš, Ariana Šiviruš, Sofia Remetić
Music: Jana Šiviruš, Lisa Mančuni, Sara Virdinu




[Verse 1: Alina, Sofia, Ariana]

As the postcard ends, the stage is shrowded in darkness. Suddenly, as the music starts, the group's logo appears in pink on a black background on the LED screens, with every other screen swapping the colours, which then alternate every two beats. Simultaneously, smoke fills the stage. The camera moves from in front of the stage to above it, revealing the six members standing in a triangle formation on the stage. As Alina sings her lines, the smoke clears and the camera changes to be in front of her, revealing her black and pink dress. When she's finished, she walks out of the camera's view and Sofia and Ariana take her place.

Hello boy, hey you
I think you’re lookin’ kinda cute
The things you make me wanna do
Oh-oh (Oh-oh)
See you standing there
To you, none could ever compare

So I just want to ask you
Do you want to spend your life with me too?


[Pre-Chorus: Jana, Lisa]

The LED screens change to show pink shapes on a black background. The camera moves to Jana and Lisa, walking around eachother.

Ipir šunšanušum ti sučiv'
Mi lipum fam tač šujum, ali, ali
Tismi iš vidum ti su čivu
Alni tvuri vartinti


[Chorus: Sara, Jana]

Lisa walks out of view, Sara taking Lisa's place. As the camera zooms out, all six can be seen dancing.

In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi lifisidu?
Iš lifju ti tvuri tim tu titisi šum mi
In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi vidisidu?
Nišanumi pu sititi, al' iš lifju tvi


[Verse 2: Sofia]

Sofia takes the place of Sara and Jana. While Sofia is walking around the stage, the other five are dancing once again.

I-I-I-I saw you standin' over there, OK, OK
Let’s turn this thing into an affair, mmm
I just want your love, maybe more, but that's enough
We can go and do some stuff, let’s get a bit rough
But do you even see me?
Do you want me? Do you wanna want me?
Do you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?
Head over heels in love, so don’t I int'rest you enough?
Is your love so tough? You'll crack soon enough, uh


[Pre-Chorus: Lisa, Ariana]

As Sofia returns to the group, Lisa and Ariana take the center stage, walking around eachother again.

Ipir šunšanušum ti sučiv'
Mi lipum fam tač šujum, ali, ali
Tismi iš vidum ti su čivu
Alni tvuri vartinti


[Chorus: Jana, Sara]

Jana and Sara take the center stage. All six can be seen dancing again.

In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi lifisidu?
Iš lifju ti tvuri tim tu titisi šum mi
In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi vidisidu?
Nišanumi pu sititi, al' iš lifju tvi


[Bridge: Lisa, Alina, Jana, Sara]

All six stand in a line (left to right: Ariana, Lisa, Alina, Jana, Sara, Sofia). When it's their turn to sing, they move forward and do a small bit of choreo, moving back into the line when they're done.

Pavar in uki ti trifiti mi
A ti, a ti, a ti
Iš vilju stati alni čiv' siča ti
I ti? I ti? I ti?

Ooh, whoa-oh-oh-oh
Ooh, whoa-oh-oh-oh
Iš hifimi ti mi lipu

Ooh, whoa-oh-oh-oh
Ooh, whoa-oh-oh-oh
Ali damšis'du tu du?


[Refrain: Sara, Alina, robotic voice]

The group splits up, every member walking across the stage, the camera following each one of them for one line.

(In nitum, in nitum)
In the clouds
(In nitum, in nitum)
Do you see me standing there too?
(In nitum, in nitum)
(In nitum, in nitum)


[Chorus: Sara, Ariana, Alina, Lisa, (Jana)]

The camera zooms out to show the whole stage, changing to always keep the person singing in focus. Jana walks onto the catwalk portion of the stage.

In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi lifisidu? (A, in nitum)
Iš lifju ti tvuri tim tu titisi šum mi (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
In nitum, in nitum
Ali mi vidisidu?
(Ali mi vidisidu, oh)
Nišanumi pu sititi, al' iš lifju tvi


[Outro: Jana]

Jana stops walking, having reached the end of the catwalk.

But do you see me there too?


As the music ends, all six run to the middle of the stage to hug eachother, Jana nearly tripping. Alina shouts "THANK YOU!"
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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09 | #npr

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:14 pm

09
Normandy and Picardy
Sophie Muret - "Un jour viendra"

Language(s): Normand French
Title Translation: A day will come
Tune: Barbara Pravi - Le jour se lève
Additional Information
Lyrics: Sophie Muret
Music: Sophie Muret, Philippine Lagarde


Image
Sophie Muret, the artist representing Normandy and Picardy in her home city of Rouen

"Resigned? Surely not!" was roughly the reaction of most of Normandy and Picardy to the news that Simone Derrida, the Head of Delegation for SRNP's WHF efforts, responsible for a complete turn around/revival of their results and three wins in the last five contests, was giving up the mantle. Now, this wasn't just a bunch of fan sites. Given the recent rush of success in the contest for the country, any news related to it had become highly important news, perhaps more so than it was worth; if nothing else, it gave people, gave the nation, something to celebrate. And celebrate they did after Marianne Vidal and Anne-Marie Paquet won in Aronyk, Britonisea. The win had in many ways even further importance given the handing of the baton of the overseership of the contest itself to Christine Périault, who has worked for TélécomNormandie and SRNP, having indeed at one point been Simone's own boss. Some got slightly carried away then. Yet Simone's resignation was rather a sobering moment, especially given just how closely linked she had become to Normand success in the contest and the supposed "formula" that she had settled on, a fact that she also refuted; in an interview after the contest, she remarked, "There is no formula. Music is not a chemical synthesis, or a factory production. Or, well, music shouldn't be. My job has been to present the best of Normand talent, and it is my hope that this will carry on into the future - for a small country like ours, we can show that we have a deep well of talent, that is all, nothing else". Perhaps the signs of the resignation were coming. And indeed, Mme. Derrida justified her decision by saying that she had enjoyed the journey, enjoyed the ability to go and promote acts she truly believed in, but that it was time for her to move on, to focus on different things, and to step out of a spotlight that she had never really wanted to be in to the extent that she had been. Nevertheless, a sort of certainty had been shattered. Sure, it wasn't life changing, far from it; this sort of decision does not matter that much in every day matters. Yet at the same time how to move forward quickly became the question on everyones' lips, at the same time as SRNP prepared to host the contest yet again.

Indeed, one of the final things that Simone Derrida had done before her resignation was to lead the time that met with the overseer and agreed to host the contest in Normandy and Picardy; rather cheeky, you might say. In fairness, she would not be completely gone, and in fact would be helping out with preparations for the next contest, such that one could argue that she hadn't really gone that far at all. Yet the resignation was real enough; she would not be back, and she sounded as though she meant it. In any case, the issue of the song essentially went on the back burner as SRNP looked for a new HoD, mostly to help direct the efforts of the hosting. Eventually they settled of Émmanuel Guillet. He, like his predecessor, came from SRNP's cultural programming department. Importantly, however, he had first hand experience of organizing and running a major show, as seen in his work for the Festival de Cherbourg, the leading musical event in the country's calendar, even more so it must be said than WHF, having been involved in the logistics of the show. In many ways he was thus perfect for the role, both for this contest and looking into the future, given his pedigree working for the Festival de Cherbourg and thus alongside the biggest names in the Normand music business, as well as being involved in the "SRNP Discover" scheme for new artists, originally set up by Simone but taken over by him. He was, to a certain extent, the naturally successor. Be that as it may he knew he would have his work cut out for him. The first job on Émmanuel's list was to actually decide where the contest was going to be held, and as customary the broadcaster opened up a bidding process for interested cities to take part. Interest remained as high as ever, with even Amiens, which hosted only a few contests ago, throwing its hat into the ring; Le Havre meanwhile, interestingly, did not do so. In the end it was announced, thanks to funding from the Federal Government, that Rouen, the federal capital of Les Deux Républiques no less, would host the contest. This was to be the first time that Rouen would host the WHF, despite being the capital and largest city in the country; it had come after Amiens, Avranches, Cherbourg, Caen and Le Havre, all major cities but all smaller. Indeed, the last time Rouen had hosted anything similar was the 65th Worldvision Song Contest, a contest that Normandy and Picardy has now not competed in for years, and which is even further ago. Thus, the contest arriving in Rouen is long, long overdue.

Rouen would also be (is?) home to the artist representing Normandy and Picardy on the WorldVision stage, Sophie Muret. Born and raised in the city, the daughter of an important member of the federal government but never interested in following his shoes, Sophie has followed the classic trajectory, going to the College of Cherbourg - against her father's wishes, though he still paid for it - before becoming a performer and composer herself. Indeed, it is as a songwriter that Sophie is most recognisible within the industry, having been involved in a whole host of hits in the Normand charts, across various genres, including on songs that have won or come top 3 at the Festival de Cherbourg, and has a series of songwriting awards too. Whilst she occassionally released her own stuff, it was clearly never with the intention of having it do anything; it rather came just from a love of music, a need to express herself, and a performing spirit that she had. Whilst she spends most of her time in the studio - or did until this contest; it is likely she'll be able to step out more prominently afterwards (depending on how she does of course, but let's not think about that) - she is well versed on the stage too, albeit normally on a smaller scale, given she normally gives performances in the small bars and music clubs that are to be founded dotted all over the city. Following on in Derrida's footsteps, Émmanuel - once he got around to the admittedly rather important task of actually finding the Normand entry - conducted a closed song search, and come to Sophie originally seeking recommendations or trying to get her perhaps to write a song for the contest; even in spite of all the success recently, he thought that Sophie would not want to do it herself. The response he received was more welcoming than he could have hoped for, as she quickly replied saying she would be happy to take part, having read him as asking if she wanted to compete herself. Not Émmanuel's intended message, but he could not complain.

Tragedy struck, however, not long after for Sophie, a family tragedy. Sophie had always been very close to her grandmother, Katherine, having visited her practically weekly since she was a young child. Going round to her flat, having a cup of tea, a biscuit, or two, or three, or more, and a long, warm hug had long been constants in her life, something concrete and certain. The sort of thing one takes for granted. Then suddenly everything had started to go wrong. A fall. A long stay in hospital. It turned out she had cancer, which no one had noticed before. "Oh great!", Katherine remarked when she heard the news, "Another thing to add to my diabetes, my poor balance, my..." but then it dawned that the doctors had told her that it was terminal. Sophie had taken her to the hospital to hear the news; she was too distraught to drive back home, and her father had to come and get the both of them. Naturally, all she could think about was keeping her nan well, literally everything else went out of the window. Had she even remembered the whole WHF business she would probably have quit there and then, but that really was nowhere close to being important. At least she would have around a year. And then it happened. A hammer blow, more than a hammer blow, but one that seemed to smash reality itself and leave an empty, black pit, endless and all-consuming. The tears were slow to come due to the shock. No one had seen it coming at all, she had simply slipped away. "Or had she been let go?", thought Sophie, who began to blame herself. She did practically nothing for two weeks, she didn't have the energy; she had used it all crying. Luckily she wouldn't have to make the funeral arrangements; the poor woman would never have been buried if she had to do it, she said, as she would never have been able to pick up the phone and make the calls. Everything was, indeed, a bit hazy, but through that haze came an email, from Émmanuel, who she realised knew nothing about anything that had happened. He was just checking in to make sure everything was alright. How to respond to him? How to respond to herself? She just looked blankly at the screen.

"Your grandmother would never have wanted you lying about doing nothing", Sophie's father told her, a few weeks later. She had since explained the situation to Émmanuel, who had been more than understanding. If Sophie didn't wish to carry on, she didn't have to; indeed, he had prepared a contingency act, though he had never thought they would have to be called upon (a sentence which sounds worse than it is actually intended to be). But her father was right. She may have been angry with him when he said it, but he was right. She had always been extremely proud of her, and would not want her to give up everything now. Her entry, thus, would be a tribute to her, and a way to try and make sense of the tempest of feelings that she felt inside of her. Speaking on SRNP Radio One, before the first acts from elsewhere began to funnel in from around the multiverse and as the final preparations were made to welcome them all, and to the host the show, Sophie said, "We have so many songs about falling in love, falling out of love, and some about loss, but few truly about trying to come to terms with the loss of a family member and a friend. So I hope this will strike a chord with many people, beyond the language barrier, and tell people its ok to grieve, to feel lost, that nearly everyone goes through this." The song itself was received warmly in the host nation, rising swiftly to number one in the charts a few weeks before the show itself, and there was even some hope they could do it again. SRNP was deliberately downplaying this. SRNP were hoping they would be right. And Sophie? Sophie just wanted to get on that stage and sing her heart out, and she would be doing that sooner than she might have thought...




She couldn't believe it; she was finally here, on a stage in front of not just the thousands in the audience who were cheering her on already - especially, and unsurprisingly, the large Normand contingent - but in front of millions of pairs of eyes, millions of hearts and minds across the multiverse. A quick shiver went down her spine, she suddenly felt quite alone despite being in such a big space. She walked up to the very end of the stage, beyond the LED "sails", beyond the main diamond stage down to the end of the catwalk, so close to the crowd and yet so, so far - some might call this deliberate, others might say I'm being deliberately arty-farty, I'm afraid some more of this might occur during the course of the entry so get used to it. In any case, she got to her spot pretty much just with time, a moment to compose herself, as the postcard came to an end. The stadium descended into darkness, the darkness in which the protagonist of the song - that is to say, really, Sophie - found herself lost. Then, the music started. Sophie's heart jumped into her mouth. This was the moment, do or die. She stood there in a rather loose, lacy ensemble, slightly torn and well worn in places, but rather well fitting and fashionable. Perhaps think of the above image but a lot more lacy and a lot less green. So nothing like it then, naturally. Anyway, as those first, fatal piano notes were struck, we are shown a shot on one of the background screens of an extremely, old, faded clock, slowly falling apart, and finally coming to a stop. This image was extremely faint however, and the camera shot transferred over to show another shot mostly shrowded in darkness. Sophie was lit by two beams of white light from either side of the stage behind her, dancing and weaving around the lace, and spotlighting her in what was otherwise a sea of black.

L'horloge s'est arrêtée, et peut-etre l'horloge a ri
Dans la silence après sa tic-tac a fini
Même quand il était cassé, il était encore plus beau
Que je ne pourrais jamais l’être sous le rideau


As the verse, or what might even be called the prechorus with the slight musical shift - feel free to debate that if you really care - continued, a series of faint white spotlights also appeared, slowly searching across the stage, as if trying to find Sophie, lost and alone out in the depths, as it were, indeed having completely fallen out of time itself. The staging was being kept deliberately stripped back, to allow Sophie to pour forth the emotion, as she slowly, well, not moved, per se, but almost floated about, as if carried by some sort of wind, not in an fully airy-fairy way but something still with a bit more substance, connecting to the deep roots beneath yet in danger of being carried away, as her hands seemingly hovered around the mic stand behind which she stood. Yet she kept her cues as the cameras slowly panned around and shots faded in and out of each other, creating an almost ethereal air ought of what was rather stark. It was all about showing off the light and shadows - a key theme for the staging in general.

Des espaces entre, des les moments de silence
Dans lesquelles j'entends les carillons parfois
J'suis un pas hors du temps, et maint'nant un autre pas
Et pourtant je suis ici coincé au même endroit


As the chorus began, the lights actually died down a little, to just one set of lights from the back right of the stage (from the perspective of the audience) such that it seemed to form a "light-wall", perhaps the rays of light of the sun on that day, but empty, cold, devoid of any warmth, not truly sun rays at all but a hollow copy, all that Sophie coudl feel - at a slight diagonal beyond Sophie, and which framed her and lit from behind as she sang the chorus having turned to look into the camera, looking through and beyond to millions of households, into millions of pairs of eyes. Everything was almost eerily still, beyond the occasional contortion of Sophie's face, the movement of a hand oh so slight, and the slight flickering, fading in and out, of the light wall, very uncertain, at risk of falling apart at any moment.

Un jour viendra, le soleil brillera
Mais sa caresse, j'ne le connais pas
Après la nuit, la clair de lune
Qui se rit de moi et me nargue d'en haut
Un jour viendra, mais pas pour moi
Un jour viendra, mais pas pour toi


On the background screens, altogether at this point, a host of old, worn, rusty, overgrown gears, smahed up clockfaces, the Roman numerals sprinkled all about, as if a clock (or several clocks) had had a good hammering and then been all jumbled up, came into view. That is not to say it was a particularly dense clustering, far from it, rather it was rather spread out and slow moving, and more to provide a more general background aesthetic and provide something a little different in the background during some of the longer shots that were being used. The main focus, however, remained on Sophie at the front of the stage, and the light and shadow dancing around her.

Je suis ici coincé au même endroit minuit sans fin,
Où tu m'as laissé toute seule enfin
Tu étais mon guide, ma lumière, et ma direction
Et mon fidèle compagnon qui j'ai laissé partir


Je suis désorientée, je n'ai pas bougé
Sans aucun sens du lieu, j'suis tombée hors de temps
Tu est deboute encore dans l'endroit d’où t'es parti
Vers le brume d'la nuit, quelque part loin d'ici


- Everything again really subdued for the chorus, before for the instrumental section you get a series of lights forming a cage around her, sort of playing almost listlessly through them, sliding her hands through them and feeling nothing, slowly walking around. The song ends with a long close up shot of Sophie as she sings the final chorus, putting every sinew into getting across the abyss of emotion, and every sinew at the same time towards not showing this too much, although it does break through somewhat.
- Very intimate and close, a flickering light from above that ultimately fizzles out.


Un jour viendra...

Un jour viendra, le soleil brillera
Mais sa caresse, j'ne le connais pas
Apres la nuit, la clair de lune
Qui se rit de moi et me nargue d'en haut
Un jour viendra, mais pas pour moi
Un jour viendra, mais pas pour toi


The crowd in the Stade Métropole went absolutely mad as the song came to an end, whilst Sophie almost collapsed. It had been a painful song to write, and an immensely cathartic experience to perform. She didn't know what to do, how to respond to the crowd, really even where to go. Catching her breath, she shouted "MERCI ROUEN!", which seemed to kick some sense back into her, as she realised she now needed to quickly scuttle off the stage and allow the preparations for the next entry to begin.



The clock stopped, perhaps the clock laughed
In the silence after the ticking ended
Even when broken it still was more beautiful
Than I could ever be, here behind the veil [or curtain - veil simply sounded a more poetic translation, in any case, some
item blocking the view/light, generally in a window]

Of the gaps in between, the silent moments
In which I sometimes hear the chimes
One step out of time, and now another step
And yet I'm here, stuck in the same place

A day will come, the sun will rise
But I don't know its warm caress
After the night, after the moonlight
That plays with me and taunts me from above
A day will come, but not for me
A day will come, but not for you

I am stuck here in the same endless midnight
Where you finally left me all on my own
You were my guide, my light, my direction
My faithful companion, who I let go

I'm disorientated, I've not moved
With no sense of place, I've fallen out of time
You're still standing there though you walked away
Into the haze of the night, somewhere far from here

A day will come

A day will come, the sun will rise
But I don't know its warm caress
After the night, after the moonlight
That plays with me and taunts me from above
A day will come, but not for me
A day will come, but not for you
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:16 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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10 | #kls

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:26 pm

10
Kalosia
Piér Mistral ft R&B - "Vakanžë solitaria"

Language(s): Kalosian, English
Title Translation: Lonely holiday
Tune: Sergej Ćetković ft Who See - Pusti probleme
Additional Information
Lyrics: Raímondu Kastel, Bernardu Martini, Piér Mistral
Music: Raímondu Kastel, Fabiu Kapuťin, Piér Mistral, Amelia Sanǧiraldu


Following the final Festival dëla Kanžu Kalosianë, RTVK announced that a new selection process was to be devised for the World Hit Festival. In the interim however, the entrant was to be selected internally. For the 61st World Hit Festival, the broadcaster chose Piér Mistral to represent the island nation.

The 27-year old hails from Kostagalu, a picturesque coastal town along the Cafalonesque riviera. It is a popular regional destination known for its quaint streets and quality treats. That is to say, to sample local Cafalonesque delicacies and regional wines in an open air bistro is quite the dream for tourists to the area.

Anyway, Piér started off as a street musician before transitioning to a life funded mainly by bar and café gigs. When a cover album he released proved to be a moderate success, he turned to songwriting. As this was recent, his discography is still rather sparse, and he has yet to release an album. However, the few singles he has already released (in addition to his cover work) impressed the head of delegation enough to select him.

Piér had a few songs in the making, and it so happened that one of them was a collaboration with another artist. Even before taking them into consideration, that track in particular was a strong choice, so he picked up the phone and gave the boys a call. After they said yes, it was announced that Cafalon-based rap duo R&B would be joining Piér in Rouen.

R&B consists of Raímondu Kastel and Bernardu Martini. They are a rap duo formed in 2012 that mostly specialize in hip-hop. It is quite a contrast to Piér's folk chanson style and the announcement that they were joining forces for WHF caused quite a shock among Kalosian WHF circles. Still, when the song was released, they proved that they were able to make it work.

The song, called Vakanžë solitaria (Lonely holiday), is sung from the perspective of a guy who goes on vacation, but for an unspecified reason is unable to bring his lover with him. There is plenty of room for speculation here, popular fan interpretations argue that it is a work trip or family retreat, or that possibly their relationship may be strained and the guy wants to make it up to her. The guy expresses that he would like to return with her one day, and even promises a steamy night together. Notably, the song also mentions the town of Cotgallo where Piér is from, suggesting that the 'vacation' in the song takes place there.

In addition to being the first Kalosian entry with a rap section, it is the first Kalosian entry since WHF7 (our debut) to be partially in English. Piér will sing entirely in Kalosian, but R&B, whose discography includes tracks in English and Kalosian, will be rapping mainly in English with occasional words and lines in Kalosian. This choice was intentional, they said it was done in hopes of allowing the global audience to get the message behind the song.

As all three of them are from Galesku (home of the Cafalonesque people and culture), some suspect that they were chosen due to Cafalonesque culture being somewhat akin to the Romance culture of WHF host country Normandy & Picardy. However this speculation is only found in the depths of WHF fan circles and no one actually really cares.



So for the big night, Piér was wearing a summer look, namely a white buttoned shirt and khakis, with a sun hat. It was actually pretty classy but definitely brought a summer vibe on stage.

As the Kalosian postcard finished, the stage was dark. As the song began, a spotlight shone on Piér as he slowly made his way down the catwalk at the centre of the stage. A spidercam slowly closed up on him until he sang the first line, and then it switched to a steadicam on stage.


Li treni sonu punktuáli
Mi au seľatu prestu a matinë
E mentrë ja vadu avanti
Mia vitë es senzë konfine


He stopped where the catwalk met the tip of the diamond.

Feližëmentë kantu ja kadë ja lašu
Mia propria kazë, ala kampañë vadu


Now the lights slowly came on to reveal that there was a few musicians on stage, including two guitar players and a DJ with a launchpad. With the mic in hand, Piér just kinda stopped there, singing at the front of the diamond.

Sara unë grandë aventurë
Traversu le strade di kestë viľa
Sotu li arbeli kaminu
Finu enkontru ja lë mar grandë


While this is happening, the LED screens have kicked in as well, showing picturesque shots of Cotgallo. Off-camera, Piér is given a mic stand and attaches his mic to it.

Përo sta unë kosë kë kestu logu manka
Sarebë meľor se tu stesë kon mi


Now we enter the chorus, and it's quite lively. Piér is kinda just there, dancing on stage as he sings the chorus. The lights are quite lively tbh, as some of the spotlights move around, and the camera resorts to wide shots, enabling viewers to see the various artists and delegations from other countries dancing around to the beat.

Penšu a ti u kestë plažë
Mi manki tu e ti voľu ki
Ja sentu tantu voštu senzë ti


Of course, those of us who understand Kalosian know that the song is lyrically rather sad, but I guess that's the power of storytelling. Piér covers up his saudade by making the best of his time on vacay, making the song rather bittersweet. For those who don't know what he's saying, though, this song is all about good vibes.

Sotu lë sol kë bate fortë
Voľu goderë la vitë kon ti
Lë mar e lë ťelu blu spetanu ti


As there's a bit of whistling, Piér takes his mic off the stand. The steadicam operator on stage also circles around the musicians on stage.

In this next part, Piér walks forward to the front of the catwalk. A wide shot camera follows him as he makes his way to the front.


Forse un žornu torneru ja
Kon tia manu kë tene lë miu
Avremu unë verë vakanžë
Note romantike sotu li steli


Now the camera switched to showing a close up shot of him. Sounding super emotional, he kinda belted out these next two lines.

N’era skeltë mia për andarë solu
Ma ja ti prometu staremu ki insemë


The camera fades to black before switching to Raímondu, making his entrance on the left satellite catwalk. The audience cheers at his presence, impressed by his rapping. He is wearing a summery outfit as well, namely a patterned button shirt with short sleeves and shorts. He paces himself, making his way to the front as he spits these bars.

Ah, baby you know how mi manki tu
If I had it my way, I would have brought you over here too
I would give it all if only you could sit here by my side
We could dine under the moon and let the stars become our guide


Occasionally, the camera switches to Piér, who is dancing his way back to the center of the stage, before switching back to Raímondu. This quite sets the atmosphere.

Përo kestë distanzë, distanzë
Keeps me so far away from you, mia ragažë
I just wanna party, I just want a lovely
Moment in the sun with you only, karë mia


Now it's Bernardu's turn to take over. He pretty much does what Raímondu did (i.e. enter and slowly make his way to the front), but from the right satellite catwalk instead. He and his colleague have different rapping styles; while Raímondu opts for shorter rhythms, Bernardu seems to have words just roll off his tongue, with his lines flowing into each other.

Just imagine what we’ll do on all the streets, oñu pašu
Will take us closer to the view, it’s gonna be just me and you
Cause they say memento mori and we’re writing our story
It’s a summer holiday and we will do it our way


The camera, too, occasionally shows Raímondu and Piér; the former can be seen nodding along, seeming to approve of Bernardu's stage presence, while the latter is vibing along and dancing on stage.

Dwe bikeri di vino, sharing secrets only we know
Un ombrašu, dëli baši, getting hot and getting ready
Bonžornu, bonëserë, make a minute last an era
When we’re making such sweet love over by the riviera


As the rap ends, there is some whistling. The camera closes up on Piér, who is seen whistling into the camera. A female voice can be heard mimicking a train announcement, there are no women onstage but it turns out this voice is being provided by a member of the Kalosian delegation, hidden away backstage.

(Atenžio pasežeri, arivamu a: Kostagalu)


Now as Piér starts singing again, he goes straight into the chorus. The cameras stick to medium shots, focusing on the diamond stage. Off-camera, the R&B duo are walking back, making their way to the diamond main stage.

Penšu a ti u kestë plažë
Mi manki tu e ti voľu ki
Ja sentu tantu voštu senzë ti

Sotu lë sol kë bate fortë
Voľu goderë la vitë kon ti
Lë mar e lë ťelu blu spetanu ti


Now R&B appear on the diamond stage, but viewers at home wouldn't notice as they are not seen on camera, which is focusing on Piér.

Penšu a ti u kestë plažë
Mi manki tu e ti voľu ki
Ja sentu tantu voštu senzë ti


In the final lines of the song do R&B finally walk up to Piér, exchanging hi fives with him before Piér extends his arms around them and pull them in like an old friend, just in time for the song to end.

Sotu lë sol kë bate fortë
Voľu goderë la vitë kon ti
Lë mar e lë ťelu blu spetanu ti


They're definitely having a fun time on stage. As the song comes to an end, they celebrate a little on stage with the camera focused on them. As the audience cheers, Piér leans into the mic and says "THANK YOU ROUEN! MERCI!!!". Not long after they vacate the stage as the production crew prepare for the next entry.



The trains are on time
I woke up early in the morning
And as I go forward
My life knows no borders

Happily I sing as I leave
My own house, I’m going to the countryside

It will be a great adventure
Through the streets of this town
I walk below the trees
Until I meet the great sea

But there is one thing missing from this place
It would be better if you were here with me

I’m thinking of you here at this beach
I miss you and I want you here
I feel quite empty without you

Under the sun that shines strongly
I want to enjoy life with you
The blue sea and sky await you

Maybe one day I’ll return
With your hand in mine
We’ll have a proper vacation
Romantic nights under the stars

It wasn’t not my choice to go alone
But I promise you we’ll be here together

Ah, baby you know how I miss you
If I had it my way, I would have brought you over here too
I would give it all if only you could sit here by my side
We could dine under the moon and let the stars become our guide

But this distance, distance
Keeps me so far away from you, my girl
I just wanna party, I just want a lovely
Moment in the sun with you only, my dear

Just imagine what we’ll do on all the streets, every step
Will take us closer to the view, it’s gonna be just me and you
Cause they say memento mori and we’re writing our story
It’s a summer holiday and we will do it our way

Two glasses of wine, sharing secrets only we know
A cuddle, some kisses, getting hot and getting ready
Good day, good evening, make a minute last an era
When we’re making such sweet love over by the riviera

(Attention passengers, we will soon arrive at: Cotgallo)

I’m thinking of you here at this beach
I miss you and I want you here
I feel quite empty without you

Under the sun that shines strongly
I want to enjoy life with you
The blue sea and sky await you

I’m thinking of you here at this beach
I miss you and I want you here
I feel quite empty without you

Under the sun that shines strongly
I want to enjoy life with you
The blue sea and sky await you
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

11 | #klm

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:32 pm

11
Kuala Lumpia
Paguyuban Ibu-Ibu RT 05 RW 27 - "Gairah Cinta Malam Minggu"

Language(s): Indonesian, English
Title Translation: Saturday Night Lust
Tune: SDN48 - Ai, Chuseyo
Additional Information
Lyrics: Suratmi, Sumiatun, Sutinah, Sutiyem, Sumarsinah, Sulastri, Suparmi, Suarni
Music: Suratmi, Sumiatun, Sutinah, Sutiyem, Sumarsinah, Sulastri, Suparmi, Suarni


Image
Several of the moms in a supermarket, planning to speak to the manager



The stage is dark, until soon after, the stage is suddenly lit up, the beats startling the viewers (who are probably having this song as their toilet break) with the moms, wearing a blazing red outfit, entering the stage in a hurry, attempting to go to their rehearsed dance positions after dozing off and drinking an abundance of cocktail in the green room. The women dances miserably, their very minimal dancing attributable to their old and calcium-depleted bones. Eventhough the Kuala Lumpian delegation wants this performance to be "sexier than every performance in a Kuala Lumpian nightclub." The performance only incited amusement and laughter to the Normand audience, presumably thinking of it as a joke act.

The women of Paguyuban, indeed, is oblivious, continuing to dance very minimally, to the point you can definitely say the Normand-provided LED and strobelights are the spotlight of this performance. However, soon after, the stage darkens.


Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Tidak bisa menahan lebih lama
This love makes my heart
Pretek, pretek, pretek
Flying like little bees
Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Aku sangat ingin raba hatimu
Menggerayangi tubuh seksimu
Ayo, peluk aku


The stage lights up again, and now the women are laying on the floor. Singing very nasally as if their vocal cords have been replaced with those long candy sticks. The women, however, does not care, for they simply want their 5 minutes of fame in hopes of gaining a more affluent man to take as their second husband (Polyamory, polygamy, polytron and polymer of all kinds are absolutely legal in Kuala Lumpia). Soon after, the women stood up, touching every single bits and pieces of their body, much to the audience's horror (or amusement).

Hidupku ini biasa saja
Satu hari mengubah semua
Ketika melihatmu datang
Ke rumah dengan cinta
Kamu bilang kau biasa saja
Bagiku kau luar biasa
Kamulah makhluk paling indah
Muka dan badanmu sangat seksi


Aku tak mampu menahan semua ini
Tapi kamu memang terlalu baik
Tak ingin ku menodamu


The women dances and sing again, much to the audience's displeasure.

Di malam ini
Ku jadi gila
Lebih gila dari bambu gila
I wanna fly, fly, like lucy in the sky
Eating her cabai
Di malam ini
Malam yang sunyi
Aku tak bisa nahan, aku capek mas
Malam ini tubuh aku milikmu
Ayo, peluk aku


The women, visibly tired from performing, sits (or just lays) on the stage floor. However, their desire to be sexy is still there, so they dance (or vibrate, for their dancing is just very much subpar) wildly like the vibrations of a dying zebra being eaten by a tiger. The women wildly pulls part of their hair, and makes a strange impression of their faces that left the audiences perplexed. Although this is Kuala Lumpian women's of being aroused to the highest degree, it definitely did not translate well to Normand (and other countries') spectators.

Setiap malam aku gila
Wajahmu s'lalu di otakku
Makan, mandi dan mencuci baju
Kulakukan sambil khayal kamu


Aku tak mampu menahan semua ini
Tapi kamu memang terlalu baik
Tak ingin ku menodamu


Once again, the women sings.

Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Tidak bisa menahan lebih lama
This love makes my heart
Pretek, pretek, pretek
Flying like little bees
Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Aku sangat ingin raba hatimu
Menggerayangi tubuh seksimu
Ayo, peluk aku


All of a sudden, the stage darkens, with only the LED displaying several vertical stripes of light as shown in the music video. Without warning, the women immediately disrobed, letting every silhouette of their curves and inches being shown to the entirety of this multiverse. The audience members, visibly shocked or amused, could be seen having their mouths wide agape as all of this is happening. The women, after disrobing themselves, continue to dance, gyrate, or just vibe as the song is going to climax.

Oh i am crazy
So very crazy
My mouth is just foaming all over
Everytime i see you


With keychanges in fullswing. The women, still silhouetted, goes into a more complicated dance rhythm with various position changes and whatnot. This performance being the best Kuala Lumpia has to offer.

Di malam ini
Ku jadi gila
Lebih gila dari bambu gila
I wanna fly, fly, like lucy in the sky
Eating her cabai
Di malam ini
Malam yang sunyi
Aku tak bisa nahan, aku capek mas
Malam ini tubuh aku milikmu
Ayo, peluk aku
Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Tidak bisa menahan lebih lama
This love makes my heart
Pretek, pretek, pretek
Flying like little bees
Di malam minggu
Aku merasa
Aku sangat ingin raba hatimu
Menggerayangi tubuh seksimu
Ayo, peluk aku


The song ends.



This saturday night
I got this feeling
I cannot hold this for much longer
This love makes my heart
Cracking, cracking, cracking
Flying like little bees
This saturday night
I got this feeling
I wanna caress your body
Hovering over your very sexy body
Come on, baby, hug me

At first, my life is normal
One day everything changes
When I see you coming
Home with love
You said you're just an ordinary guy
But you're amazing to me
You are the most beautiful creature
Your face and body are so sexy

I can't stand all this
But you're way too kind
I don't want to taint your innocence

Tonight
I'm going crazy
Crazier than crazy bamboo
I wanna fly, fly, like lucy in the sky
Eating her chili
Tonight
In this silent night
I can't help it, boy, I'm tired
Tonight my body is yours
Come on, baby, hug me

Every night I go crazy
Your face is always in my brain
Everytime i eat, shower and wash my clothes
I do it while imagining you

I can't stand all this
But you're way too kind
I don't want to taint your innocence

This saturday night
I got this feeling
I can hold this for much longer
This love makes my heart
Cracking, cracking, cracking
Flying like little bees
This saturday night
I got this feeling
I wanna caress your body
Hovering over your very sexy body
Come on, baby, hug me

Oh i am crazy
So very crazy
My mouth is just foaming all over
Everytime i see you

Tonight
I'm going crazy
Crazier than crazy bamboo
I wanna fly, fly, like lucy in the sky
Eating her chili
Tonight
In this silent Night
I can't help it, boy, I'm tired
Tonight my body is yours
Come on, baby, hug me

This saturday night
I got this feeling
I can hold this for much longer
This love makes my heart
Cracking, cracking, cracking
Flying like little bees
This saturday night
I got this feeling
I wanna caress your body
Hovering over your very sexy body
Come on, baby, hug me


*bambu gila = a Moluccan traditional game, where players must try to hold a single bamboo who has been possessed by ancestral spirits, causing the bamboo to move wildly and quickly.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

12 | #ach

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:40 pm

12
ACHAEAN REPUBLIC
Katherine Guardiola- "Quizás El Viento Sople"

Language(s): Spanish
Title Translation: Maybe the Wind Will Blow
Tune:MISIA - 逢いたくていま (Aitatuke Ima)
Additional Information
Lyrics: Katherine Guadiola, Marianne Rivera
Music: Michael C. Young, Katrina Velázquez, Adrian Yoel Cruz, Michael Mercado


Image
Image


“The fire and wood are here,” Isaac said, “but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?"

-Genesis 22:7c, NIV


Katherine Guardiola remembers her first—and quite possibly last—international competition. At the 10th WorldVision Song Contest, in Cachette de Lions, she performed El Rey Que Me Da Vida (“The King That Gives me Life”) in a dubious (even she recognized the immaturity in her voice mixed with the earnestness in her soul) internal selection sponsored by AS1 attempting to capitalize on the success of that year’s Achaean Idol, where she participated and reached fourth place. Even she recognized there was much to grow up regarding her stage presence and delivery. She was immediately thrust to the national spotlight by Sony/CanZion, the Achaean Republic’s largest Christian Contemporary Music (CCM)/gospel recording alliance—no longer was she singing to the Lord alongside two hundred parishioners at her local Christian Missionary Alliance church in Sucupira, a small city on the outskirts of Caguaramo, the capital of Achaea’s easternmost Yaracuy state, nor was she thrust into a small Corola theater-studio every Wednesday at 9:00 P.M. Now, she was thrust into her very first overseas trip, but it did not go as planned.

Which is why now, twelve years later, being tapped into performing for the World Hit Festival brought some a tinge of hand-wrigging discomfort to the yaracuyana. Her song, Quizás El Viento Sople (“Maybe the Wind Will Blow”) led her to the top of the Achaean Christian charts, despite not having performed outside the country in more than two years. At thirty-four years old, she was more than content with her life as a mother of three and full-time worship leader alongside her husband, pastor Edgardo Fernández from the nondenominational Cristo Rey church in Punta de Linares, Yaracuy. Her burning passion for the ministry alongside her husband and her dedication to motherhood overshadowed the need for competition—or even singing at times, something she began to sorely miss in the years after competing in Cachette de Lions.

Author of several hit songs like Salmo 23 (“Psalm 23”), Fe (“Fe”) and Amor es Amar (“Love is Love,” a song unlikely used by many Christian allies supporting the LGBTQIA+ community during its fight for marriage equality in the Achaean Republic), her dedication to ministry has been beyond exemplary. Three times nominated for the Achaean Dove Awards, she has also contributed to many fellow Christian singers’ repertoire as a lyricist—for instance, Guardiola wrote two songs to The Intermissión’s upcoming worship album. But, to be honest, she was growing quite comfortable in her roles and was looking or a completely different challenge. She prayed and prayed and prayed and talked it over with her family and her husband. As much as she enjoyed the ministry and grew content with the passions of her life, Katherine knew that this could might be God’s chance to give her a new chance to engage in a new adventure.




Néstor. Ay, Dios mío.

Néstor was lying in a hospital bed. Naked. Isolated. Afraid. Doctors in hazmat suits prodding and poking his little, frail body, trying to draw blood from the few pinpricks his body could take. Katherine and Peter looked at the smokescreen behind the intensive care unit, Katherine crying helplessly while being carried by Peter, cradled in his arms, while he whispered something in his ear. Was it English? Was it Spanish? Was it tongues? Katherine knew Peter could speak in tongues, but she never quite knew what tongues was he speaking in his private moments with the Lord. But whatever it was, it served of little comfort to her. They never knew how they were able to say goodbye—even if they denied it, even if they tried to hide it, they knew it was their time to say goodbye. And there was nothing they could do about it.

Nobody knew how Néstor got sick when everybody around him did every available precaution under the Sun to keep each other safe. They severely limited their movements even before the government began declaring lockdowns. They washed their hands with water and soap and hand sanitizer. They cleaned every surface with wipes and requested—nay, demanded—that every person stay away from their household for the time being unless it was a severe, life-threatening emergency. The church quickly moved most of their life online while taking the time to teach the elder members of their congregation some basic literacy skills. And when things finally opened up, people made reservations to come to church with mandatory masks and separate entries and exits. When the vaccines came out, they spoke with the local health authorities to promote a mass vaccination event for the community. When push came to shove, and when several of their colleagues fell into the trap of misinformation over faith and plain common sense, they could at least be confident that they were doing things right.

Everybody got tested immediately thereafter. They locked themselves in their beautiful Caguaramo house—Kathy, Peter, Yaritza (Yari), Andrew (Andy)—but everybody came up negative. How could this be!? For two weeks and a few days since then, the worrisome parents basically cancelled their commitments to stay in the phone, anxiously waiting for news from their young Néstor. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep. She wanted to be close to him, comfort him, pray for him, anoint him and prophesy health in his life, like any God-fearing mother would do. She even wanted to gasp! ask God to strike her with the sickness if it meant giving him his health back—a life for a life, anything to get Néstor back.

There were no words coming out from the respirator. There were no moans, no tears, no groans, nothing. All they could see from the observation deck behind the Plexiglass wall was the shell of a young child, lifeless, laying forlorn in the gurney, breathing…breathing…breathing…not breathing anymore. Then the doctors recounted the time of death—15:36:33—and placed a white sheet covering his body. He lost weight—that could be noticed through his cheekbones. His chest looked bruised and beaten, the result of many unknown attempts at reviving his frail heart. The color he once had, his caramel skin, faded away and slowly turned into stone as his body lost its warmth and transformed into a rigid, stony husk of flesh. Néstor. Poor Néstor. What did he do to deserve this!? Now they had to notify friends and family, forego the autopsy, choose whether or not they would donate his organs, call the funeral home and confirm the arrangements, and quarantine for at least fourteen days and grieve some more while all arrangements are thrown out the window because they need to cremate victims out of health concerns.





Travelling to Rouen was exhausting, draining, confusing. She had to leave the children with Edgardo’s parents back in Achaea, who willingly volunteered to stay behind so they wouldn’t miss school. Even though she appreciated the special time alone with her husband in between rehearsals and press conferences and social media posts and all other things she had to do while in Rouen, she missed her children dearly, especially since she…gulp…lost Néstor. She wanted to keep them safe, hug them dearly and never let them go from her arms. But this was the time she oddly needed to relax and reflect, get herself out there and enjoy a time away from the hustle and bustle of ministry in such trying times.

The oceanic climate did wonders to her hair! Gone were the crispy, curly edges and the sweaty, split ends that forced Kathy to keep her hair short in tropical Achaea! Cold for her standards, yes (Edgardo enjoyed the weather—he found it much milder than what he experienced back in New Jersey!), but delightful. One of the moments she enjoyed while traveling through the city was walking through the banks of the Seine and look at the bridges as she dipped her toes in the chilly water and watching the Normands go about their lives. The river was clean and calm, something she never expected. Some Rouennais on boats were shouting something at her in French, but she could barely make out what they were saying. Apparently there were a few non here and illégale there, but it was too fast and jumbled to understand. Hmm, Néstor would have loved the river. Néstor…Nestito…Néstor…

And then, she cupped her hands into her face and started crying again.





The Stade Métropole was filled with throngs of crowds anxiously waiting for the next Achaean entry. There is always some expectation for the Achaeans; after all, they did win last time in the country; would they be able to do it again? The crowds reminded her of that time she sang at Lakewood Church in Houston or Teruah Fest in Corola. But instead of worshippers raising their hands and speaking in tongues (or what seemed to be tongues—she was always weary of that happening), there were waving flags everywhere and many languages around her, not just French. The transitions between French and English were confusing enough, more so when she was told to allez her way into the stage. It was overwhelming. It was chaotic. It was exciting, the feelings she missed back in Cachette de Lions. She wanted to cry. She missed her children. She missed Néstor. She could find a glimpse of her husband sitting in the green room couches around the stage with the rest of the Achaean delegation. At least she was safe.

Unlike the grandiose and colorful set up for last edition’s entry, there was only a small stone altar in the center of the stage. It was about five feet wide and two feet long. It was a very rudimentary stage, something that could be found below a pyre on the temperate countryside and not in tropical Achaea. But it had a red stain in its center slightly covered with moss and greenery—luckily it wasn’t dripping, although it seemed quite faded and oxidized. (It wasn’t actual blood.) The altar’s presence unnerved Kathy, even more so than that time a young epileptic girl was writhing on the floor at church during a prayer service. The stone altar gave her too many memories. It looked so rough and uneven, like that gurney, that brief quiet trip to the hospital morgue.

When the music started, Kathy clenched her microphone on the right hand and touched the mossy cover of the stone altar. She wore a brown short sleeve oversize blouse with a pleated irregular hem, which was quite breezy and comfortable to wear, though it gave her a bit of the chills whilst in Rouen. She also wore dark blue mid-rise skinny jeans she bought online at a Levi’s store (or was it a knockoff?). Then she also wore knee-high brown boots she wore brown knee-high buckle riding boots she found comfortable on Wal-Mart, accessorized with a white beaded necklace she liked to use sometimes. It was simple and direct, serving contemporary worship leader vibes who is highly into fashion. But she was still sad. And it showed.

She was looking at the stone altar, admiring its porous surface and slightly wet consistency, as if dew drops of blood fell from its sacrifice. (There wasn’t any.) She sang with her sweet, longing voice, a hint of fear, a hint of pain, a hint of doubt. Doubt—that was the word to explain what he felt! There was Abraham, walking with his son, his future, the future of his nation, into a desert following a promise. There was a word that went against everything he knew—a sacrifice. He said that he would come back with the boy in his hands. But did he truly believe it?

Abraham…Isaac…Néstor…there were too many names for Katherine to focus on right now. The cameras captured her drooping countenance. The fog below her feet and into the altar created the must she could touch in the rock. It was starting to feel hot to the touch—maybe it was the lights surrounding her?


A tí te he dejado toda mi alma en este altar
Mas aún esperas de mí algo más
A mi retoño no quiero engañar
Por seguirte, ¿eres de verdad?


Katherine carefully circled around the stage and walked towards the central catwalk, trying not to stray far from the stone altar. A leftward camera angle to the stage showed how the arena almost threatened to swallow Katherine whole in its vastness. The green room surrounding her, the waving flags, the cheers (and sniffles from some) competing in tandem to drown out her voice. The LEDs behind her showcased scenes of a desert, a beautiful wasteland where time appears to fly by. The left panels would show the day, and the right panels would focus on the night. Each panel was highlighting the days and nights Abraham would have walked only to bind his son in a sacrifice.

She was grabbing the clothes for Néstor’s funeral when her husband abruptly received the phone call and reported to her that they needed to cremate the young boy’s body and they needed to pick an urn immediately. The town funeral home had a backlog, however, and it would take at least two weeks to return the ashes. All this while quarantining and helping with the children’s schoolwork and grieving and mourning and still attempting to become a pillar for the community. Many parishioners had dying relatives as well, so they were not that special. But it was hard to distance themselves from the memory of their special boy.

Was this how Abraham felt the morning of the sacrifice? The morning in the desert must have been beautiful and cold, beautiful and bittersweet, while he was carving his knife and tying his son’s hands and feet into the altar. It made no sense in his mind (nor in Katherine’s) that He would tell him to give up his only promise for nothing else. Faithful he was. But scared he was too. What if the dagger crossed his poor boy’s heart a bit too far? What if the blood spilled all over the ground? What if Abraham turned the dagger and sacrificed himself? Would that count? Take this cup from me, he said, she said; anything to not harm the boy!


La mañana es fresca, el alba ha de retoñar
El rocío cubriendo las rosas
La espada está afilada, mi alma ha de quebrar
Por la mitad, ven y habla
La piel se corta, la sangre latirá


The lights in the stage grew brighter when they once were dim. The “catwalk” below Katherine’s feet changed into brighter colors from the intense red that dimmed into dark, bloody burgundy tones. Red is her favorite color. Red is Néstor’s favo—she burst out in song, her octave voice leaving her quite motionless, almost lightly swaying herself side to side, with the microphone on her right hand and her moving hand on the right. The aerial Spidercam captured the vastness of the stage—Katherine herself, a stone altar, and a few twinkling lights coming from the audience.

And what about the audience? Surrounding her were the phones and lighters of the delegations who were recording the performances and posting them on their social media—Facebook, Instagram, TikToks (despite the severe lack of catchy dance moves posed by impressionable teenagers), Snapchats and private WhatsApp threads. Especially there was Eduardo, her doting husband, filming everything and showing it to the kids at home who wanted to support their mommy while back home. Surprisingly enough, they had their phones and had a small picture of their brother Néstor in a corner, where all of them were tightly embraced together at that time in the church’s Christmas party. They never forgot him. It was hard for Eduardo not to shed a tear. Even when the audience behind him was belching out the letters in strange combinations, albeit phonetically, on what appeared to be speaking in tongues.

The chorus was meant to provide hope. She remembered the times she cried herself to sleep and whispered and prayed while she cried herself to sleep, knees bent beside a divan, with the Bible and a pen in hand. There was only so much to look for. She was only looking for hope. The same hope that led Abraham to sacrifice his son, despite everything in his soul going against it. The same hope that led him to see this trial not as a sacrifice, but as an opportunity to be polished in the fire. The same hope that fed his desperation. That was the hope that led Katherine to the stage in Rouen into a new adventure.


Pero aún así, aún así
Mi hijo a la vida volverá, en sus ojos veo la paz
Pero aún así, aún así
Quizás el viento soplará y un sacrficio volverá
El fuego ha de quemar la impureza y la sal
Ven, háblame y devuélveme a la vida


The handheld cameras circled around her, capturing every side, angle, and expression as she sang and slowly walked to the edge of the stage. Katherine grabbed her microphone tightly, clinging it to her chest, panting, showing some heavy breathing, growing slightly confused with the timing of the lyrics in her discrete headpiece. Her eyeshadow covered a bit of the párpados and gave her eyes a smokey look that held on to the lights caked on her face—she normally wouldn’t wear so much makeup on a daily basis, not even to church (living in a tropical island guarantees practicality over fashion), but the makeup director insisted. It would cover up some of her wrinkles. It would cover up some of her tears.

For a brief moment, Katherine envisioned herself in the same way Dalila Poncio walked towards the catwalk in her shimmering gold dress back in Alshkan, decided and committed. But this time she was not, or at least she wanted to diffuse those motions. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes for a moment and began singing, lifting her right hand at a magnetic impulse. The handheld cameras kept circling around her. Another camera had an angle crossed at or near her waist while the lightning strikes were pictured behind her. Some viewers could notice some wet spots on small blotches of makeup—was it sweat? Tears? Both? It was hard to determine. But it wouldn’t be hard to see that Katherine was sweating over the fate of her performance…and maybe streaming a loose tear or two on her face.

Faith. It was the only thing she needed right now. The faith that led Abraham to come back with his son, his promise, alive and carrying the salvation of the world. The faith that God Himself would intervene again, as He did many times before, if only to test Himself at His contingency responses. But what if Abraham lost his faith? Would God have truly allowed him to place a dagger in Isaac’s heart, regardless? She asked those suppositions to herself, but it wouldn’t matter. A sword was pierced through her own soul as well. That sword of sickness gave her so much pain. But it also revealed the beauty of her heart. Maybe that was the sacrifice placed on the altar.


Ven y descansa pues hemos de voltar
No tengo nada más que pueda entregar
Es el viento del sur que sopla para mí, oh sí
Veo un carnero atrapado, tal vez es para mí


She only needed to repeat the chorus twice. Below the square arches, where she was standing, she could feel herself caressed by the wind. Was there a wind machine blowing at her? It was hard to tell from the distance. It was hard not to grow enveloped with the strings, the piano, the guitars even if they were not present in the stage at all. This was the moment, however, where Katherine needed to fill herself with hope. Hope. Hope. It felt so elusive, so…pointless. Even with the cameras surrounding her, the glimmering lights, the throngs in the Stade Métropole cheering her on (or not), the crowds back home watching her in Achaea, there was still a large emptiness enveloping her in such a gigantic stage. It was so large the octaves in her voice could not drown it out. One could guess that was a normal part of the process. She was still grieving, of course.

The typical reaction for Achaean songs—the mixture of jubilance, extravagance, and obstinance—was missing this time. Instead, there were small sniffles the camera could catch on. There was a young lady who tried to sheepishly wipe her tears with her spare fueguero bandana. A Britonish man, usually stoic and reserve and peppered with the stiff upper lip, could be seen on camera with his eyes squinted and trying to subtly wipe the sweat of his brow away—or was it tears? Once again, hard to tell from the camera angles and the distance. A few partners hugged tightly, clinging to each other. It was hard to focus back on the stage, the emptiness of the stage, the blinding lights and its scorned chanteuse, and not share the limelight with her listeners who were very well experiencing the same longing she had for the love she lost.


Pero aún así, aún así
Mi hijo a la vida volverá, en sus ojos veo la paz
Pero aún así, aún así
Quizás el viento soplará y un sacrficio volverá
El fuego ha de quemar la impureza y la sal
Ven, háblame y devuélveme a la vida

Pero aún así, aún así
Mi hijo a la vida volverá, en sus ojos veo la paz
Pero aún así, aún así
Quizás el viento soplará y un sacrficio volverá
El fuego ha de quemar la impureza y la sal
Ven, háblame y devuélveme a la vida


Can God be fair? Can God truly know all, burn through the souls of men and enlighten the world with His hope? Is it true that one can drown in His love, embrace His zeal and live in freedom? What is the price to pay to love God? Does God exchange a life for a life? The cameras circled around Katherine one more time, when behind her the LED lights transformed into thunder and lighting that complimented the dimming stage lights…and the dimming lights on Katherine’s face. For the first time in a while, she could breathe and stand and nod.

“Merci,” she meekly said. It wasn’t the typical loud and boorish greeting one could expect from an Achaean. It sounded more like someone who was tired. She waved to the crowd and said a small, curt “Merci” before quickly moving to the stage.

She was exhausted. She could only think of embracing Néstor once again.




I have left you all of my soul in this altar
But you want something more from me
I cannot lie to my offspring
For following you, are you true?

The morning is dry, the sunrise will sprout again
The morning dew covering the roses
The sword is sharpened, my soul will break
In half, come and speak to me
The skin is cutting, the blood is throbbing

But even so, even so
My son will return to life, in his eyes I see the peace
But even so, even so
Maybe the wind will blow and a sacrifice will return
The fire will burn all impurities and the salt
Come, speak to me and bring me back to life

Come and rest because we will return
I have nothing else I can give to you
The winds come from the south that blows for me, oh yes
I see a ram stuck on a bush, maybe that is for me

But even so, even so
My son will return to life, in his eyes I see the peace
But even so, even so
Maybe the wind will blow and a sacrifice will return
The fire will burn all impurities and the salt
Come, speak to me and bring me back to life
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Democratic Socialists

13 | #moo

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:46 pm

13
Moorland
Jolie - "New Dawn"

Language(s): English
Tune: Lorde - Solar Power
Additional Information
Lyrics: Kare Linder
Music: Kare Linder, Hana Ravasdoter, Eric Wailes
Trigramme: MOO


Image
Jolie in a photoshoto for her first album, Melancholia

The sea stretched out like a song below her, the sky a symphony of oranges and reds that set the fading peaks of Moorland aflame. They blazed in one last burst of molten glory before night fell upon them like a pack of wolves. Darkness all around. The moon was a silent observer on this night, this flight, as she left her home for foreign shores once more. The shadows nipped at her heels, at they always had, and she knew time was running much more quickly than she ever could. Out, out, out of time. Out of place. Out of hope. Out of her mind. She never should have agreed to this. A song to sing, a promise to keep, and for what? No, there wasn't time for questions. She had to get to work.

She plucked tentatively at her heartstrings, gentle notes tumbling from the guitar in her hands onto the floor below. They laid there among their fellows, scores of half-formed melodies piling up, the night's casualties littered about. Frustration curled her fingers around the nearest neck and her fingers slashed against the strings, letting out an unholy sound. Her brows knitted together, her thread of thought broken with a snap.

A clap.

"That sounded all right to me now, eh?" came a practiced tone from a consummate liar. "Looks like you're halfway there already."

She didn't bother responding, choosing instead to pluck at her strings, imagining them as feathers she would tear from his cocky demeanor. One, two, three. Maybe underneath she'd find something better. Something she would recognise.

"Now listen here, hon. We're gonna land in a few hours 'n then it's right to the hotel, m'kay? Then it's bam! Right back to work. We want you to have this thing in the bag in time for the festival next week, got it?"

She adjusted her grip and contemplated a new chorus.

"Yeah kid, you got it." He reached over and grabbed her wrist, stopping her strumming. "Now listen, I know it's been a rough few months, but this tour and now the Hit Festival are really gonna -"

She wrenched her wrist from his grip and slapped his hand away. "I'm fine." She felt a twinge of regret at her harshness but it quickly faded.

His grin dropped a moment as he exaggeratedly rubbed his hand and shook it out. "Great, sweetheart, just great. Just let Uncle Barry know if you need anything," he said, turning to strut back to the front of the plane with that god-awful agent walk. He hadn't ... She didn't have time for this. She needed to get this song ready. There wasn't enough time. There never would be.



The river was still in the windless morning, its waters a yellow-ish brown from the sediment it carried across thousands of miles of farmland, cities, and villages that dotted its banks as it wound its way to the end. Here, where the river met the sea, sat Rouen. The morning air was thick with culture and fog, the empty veins of the city dark and foreboding. She sees it now, a sprawling beast, dark and foreboding. The plane slowly drops towards its cavernous maw, a city hungering for its next meal.

Wheels screech on tarmac. A staircase descends from the plane. A car door slams. The sounds of departure pass her by as she stresses over notes and choruses and the bridge keeps collapsing on her no matter what she tries. The car winds down grassy country lanes, her eyes hopelessly passing over vast fields of green grasses and blue skies filled with gorgeously columned cumulus clouds. The car crests a hill and before her eyes spreads out the city. It looks ... different. Not so terrifying in the light of day. She watches as the car makes its way down the road, watching the city slowly come to life as the sun bursts over the horizon, flooding streets with light and life. The shadows lift, a brief respite. She can do this. The lyrics will come when they were ready. She is deaf to the world, turning her ears towards the heavens instead. Clouds play with the sun, dappled rays of light playing over the city as her fingers gently play over the strings of her guitar, playing along in their game. And then it comes.

"Out of the darkness, a night so cold, I used to think life was all like this ..."



The hotel phone rings. She knows who it is. Reluctance slows her hand as it makes its inevitable journey to the receiver.

"Well, someone's feelin' confident," came the sharp from the other side. Damn it. He knew.

"Yes, I am. I think -"

"Now, here I am, sittin' here in my room, doing the work to make your career not stall out, and then I see an email from the finance team. And it has a sheet. And on that sheet are numbers. Numbers I don't like. Numbers I haven't seen before."

She closes her eyes and waits.

"What kind of expenses am I seeing here, sweetie? Hm? Why the hell do you think you need -"

"It's for the performance."

"Oh, really? Well pardon my french, but of-fucking-course they're for the performance! What I want to know is why the dancers suddenly need hazard pay for a simple, fun, fresh performance."

She stares out the window. Blue skies peek through her curtains as they gently wave at her in the afternoon breeze. She didn't think it would be like this.

"Jolie. Answer me." God, it's the same tone he had on the first tour. She knew the minifridge was off-limits and too expensive, but the candy ... and how easily he'd been bribed with a KitKat, staying up half the night watching cheesy romcoms with her. She frowns. Why does he have to make this so hard?

"The choreography is -"

"No, shh. There's no right answer here. Now I'm not approving any of this. You're using whatever you already have and a routine the dancers already know. No new rush order costumes, no hazard pay, no ...," he pauses and she hears him take a breath. She can almost see him running his fingers through thinning hair, the laughable dye-job she always used to tease him about slowly giving way to grey. "Listen, I'm sorry, but honey, you have to run these things by me first."

"I just wanted to do this right."

"And you will. But this isn't it. It's too expensive and there's not enough time to do all of this. I know you're ambitious, but I know what's best and -"

"No, you don't."

The other side is silent. Deathly silent. She can feel him on the other side and it almost stops her next words from coming out. She thought there would be more yelling, more screaming. Begging, pleading, anything. Maybe even an apology. Something to remind her of the man she once knew. Nothing comes. They both know what her next words are. They're both waiting for her to say it. They've been waiting for months, years. It's time.

"You're fired, Barry."

A pause.

"Goodbye, Kare."

The phone goes dead in her hands with her heart.

The sun shines outside.



The cool night air brushes playfully against her skin as she gulps it down, instantly cooling the thin sheen of sweat on her skin. The final night of rehearsals is done and everything, against all odds, is in place. A gaggle of her backup dancers and band members spill out behind her, but she stays behind for a few moments, watching them leave. Most of the girls have been with her since day one, ride or die loyalty that just doesn't feel as common nowadays. She has to succeed for them, for her girls. Everyone is depending on her. She can't fail them. Once everyone else is out of sight, she makes her own way back. She walks down the cobbled city streets in the direction of the hotel, but her feet seem to have a different plan. They take her down winding paths, past storefront windows that send glowing beacons onto the dark streets. The night hardly seems so terrifying now, with everything done. Those ravenous wolves that have stalked her since leaving Moorland have finally gone back to their homeland, giving her space to finally ... just ... breathe. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, feeling the wind twist in her hair. The gentle sounds of the city wrap around her like a cloak as she leans on a railing overlooking the river and the bay. She opens her eyes and gazes out at the scene. The lights of some steel bridge flicker. Luminous bulbs ornament the steel beams like a congregation of revelers twirling in the night, connecting the city with their love of life. Cathedral bells call out in a cacophony of clanging, their peals marking the hour as flocks of startled birds beat their dark wings, forming their own clouds in the dusky sky above. More time passes, the pulsing of the city seeping into her bones, the rhythms of the night making a lullabye. She watches the moon for a time and they contemplate one another. The sea of stars is drowned in the ambient light of the city, but the moon remains.
Maybe she can too. Slowly the moon begins to descend from its throne in the sky as her lids inexorably seek to to the same, the harbinger of sleep coming at last to see her off to bed. The moon watches her as she slowly drifts away. Silence.



Pulsing beats echo through the floor of the arena, the green room shaking in a dance all its own. Everyone ... almost everyone in this contest has been great. She knows she's not supposed to root for them, but joy has stuck its tendrils in her heart and blossoms more with every entry. Cameras whir and whizz along their pre-planned and manually created paths to catch each performance for those at home. Behind her comes the surge of the audience, their cries of desperation. More, more! They're hungry. They need her to feed them. She will, she will. Performers make their triumphant bows, one after another, a cascade of tumbling waves that sweep across the shore and eventually come for her, pushing her up onto the banks.

She climbs to the stage with her dancers and the backing musicians during the final commercial break before the last two performances. Those with instruments set themselves in the back as her dancers artfully arrange themselves, draping their bodies about the stage with grace. Staff members run around, draping long pieces of linen and silk around the stage and on the massive frames around the stage. The audience whispers in waves as the cameras come back on and her act is introduced. The presenters, damn them, seem so eager to remind everyone that the entire song and performance were designed all this week. No use getting mad. It's true. There's nothing left to do.

She sings.

Image
The cover of Jolie's latest album, light

The camera is directly in her face for her first line, her eyes staring back at the home audience. The stage is dark and gray and she seems to be alone. No, not quite alone. The dim lighting almost seems to make specters of the silks that drape off the screens and frames of the stage, leering figures twisting in the darkness behind her. Screens behind her are the only source of light, each panel glowing white onto the black stage. The camera slowly pulls back over the first verse.

Out of the darkness, a night so cold
I used to feel I was alone
But when the sun came, something took a hold
Are my friends here? Yeah, they are.


The stage starts to light up with the hope of spring, white panels intermittently shifting into shades of blue, pink, and green, lighting the silk and linen hangings with pastel bliss as the dancers come to life. The dancers, like Jolie, are wearing loosely flowing, high waisted white pants and white halter crop tops. They perform beautiful choreography on the ground, using their arms and legs in perfect synchronicity to pantomime their return to life, joining Jolie in her singing.

We bask in summer rays, gettin' real heated
No hate, just love, nothing else needed
My joy eternal, I feel completed
Chase the dark away, it's been defeated
Come on, come on, we'll worship at dawn now
I kinda like the feeling it gives me


The dancers rise to their feet and perform slow, sweeping gestures as they sing the next verse with Jolie. The lights slowly raise as well, pinks and blues and greens joined by faint purple. The camera arcs around the perimeter of the stage during the [i]over chant to catch the dancers as they perform a move in a moving cascade from left to right as they sing the phrase. Gentle gusts of wind begin to lift the silk hangings, rippling in the breeze as the dancers mimic them. [/i]

Forget all the terrors of the night
It's over (over, over, over)
And we've turned on the light
Are you seeing this sunrise?


The music cuts out for a moment and so do the lights and wind. The stage is in a dark gray haze until Jolie speaks the next line, with flashes of yellow lights on the beat when she sings the first line. The panels then turn a soft yellow and slowly turn up the brightness as the verse goes on. The dancers dance to the beat, still in unison, weaving in and out of the silk hangings.

Lemon drop, sun-dappled spot
And now we're dancing in the street
And I know that you will always be there for me
Am I scared now? No, I'm not (aha)


The wind comes back and the silk hangings dance with the women, the camera following Jolie around as she flows through the set, now bathed in a glorious yellow light. The light of the stage bathes the white of the dancers to make them appear to be wearing yellow as well.

We bask in summer rays, gettin' real heated
No hate, just love, nothing else needed
My joy eternal, I feel completed
Chase the dark away, it's been defeated
Come on, come on, we'll worship at dawn now
I kinda like the feeling it gives me


The light grows more golden and brilliant, summer coming into full force. The dancers gather around Jolie and then spread out again, each moving into a spot to line the perimeter of the stage or a concentric square within. Then, on the line to raise your arms, they fly.

Now we bask in a new kind of light
I love it (love it, love it, love it)
Come on and feel the rays spray out
Raise your arms and you'll never be without


Lights shine out from the stage and into the audience, a corona of light shining out from Jolie as she ascends, gripping the silks as they're lifted on wires above the stage. Tiers of her dancers do the same, with the outer ring staying on the ground and other dancers being lifted on silks to different positions below her, drops of light raining down from the heavens. At the continued refrain the women begin an aerial silk routine, swinging around gently. They utilize their hanging silks and the flowing fabric of their pants to imitate light and flight as they whirl above the audience. Jolie is crowned in radiant light shining from above, more visible from the shadow she makes with lights coming from directly above and behind her, showering her adoring audience in light. She is the music. She is the world. She takes her applause, tears of light spilling from her cheeks.

That love-ove-ove and light
Love-ove-ove and light
Love-ove-ove and light
Love-ove-ove and light
Love-ove-ove and light (oh)
Love-ove-ove and light
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Democratic Socialists

14 | #bpe

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 2:52 pm

14
Beepee
Norma Deen - "Impatient"

Language: English
Tune: Helen Fischer - "Herzbeben"
Additional Information
Lyrics: Georgia Tasda and Tess Koh
Music: Georgia Tasda and Tess Koh


Image





With one top ten finish at World Hit Festival in the past 5 editions, the often embarrassing but always irksome nation of Beepee is back once more in an attempt to be the best they can be.

Seeking to emulate the best performances by The likes if Betty Won't, Hugo First and Max Doubt. This time the Beepeean schlager factory has chosen mega-superstar Norma Deen to represent the nation in the heart of the two 'republiques', Rouen.

Norma Deen, was born in Stonebridge in the forgotten lands of North Prarie.  Her parents worked as school teachers, teaching science and mathematics.  Norma has built a following of loyal schlager fans across Beepee, starting the release of her eponymous debut album in 2015, she has contiuned to tour and has now released 3 full studio albums.  Following the collapse of North Prarie, Norma officially changed her nationality to Beepeean.  She lives in Hercules in the Cootamundra Islands.

The jewel in the crown of Normandy and Picardy, the capital city bustles with townsfolk going about their daily business.

Norma, who in the great Beepeean tradition, arrived early to the city has spent the past few weeks taking in the deliciousness of the city.  Indeed, nowhere is quite as tasty as the capital of Normandy and Picardy.  Their Butter Tower, part of the cathedral,  so named for the fee paid to enjoy dairy products over lent, stands erect and proud over the city, is a glorious monument to tenacity of the people of Rouen.  A delighted Norma toured the cathedral and learned the amazing history of this architectural wonder. 


She gazed upon the incredible Gros Horloge, the 14th Century Astronomical clock finished in gold and blue.

Norma tasted the local delights with the incredible apple orchards of the surroundings countryside flooding yhe city with sweet and mellow apple juice and cider. She visited a local chocolatier and tasted the manly fine confections and concoctions dreamt up by these master craftsman.  Her tastebuds tingled as she devoured pralines and apple-flavoured chocolates and shortbread biscuits. 

She visited Le Vieux Marché with the Normandy cafes spilling out from under the historic buildings around  the square. Sipping srong coffee as she watched the people pass her by. 

The city of Rouen, had been a joy a much needed break from the everyday in Beepee. She thought to herself how lovely it would be to stay inside Normandy and Picardy.





A smoke machine has sent a light whisper of fog across the stage. 

The postcard ends and the director starts with a view from the back of the auditorium, showing the wide auditorium and full extent of the stage.  The throbbing beat of the music begins.  Red stage lights begin to pulsate and the Normandie audience begins to clap along to the rhythm of the beat, clearly they're excited by the prospect of Beepeean schlager (aren't we all?). Laser lights penetrate the misty fog.

The director cuts of a view of Norma Deen, a woman of impeccable style and grace, standing atop a giant glitter ball which begins to slowly descend form the rooftop. Norma is dressed in a floating gold shimmering dress.  The voile silk fluttering as a gentle breeze blows from the windmachines set beside the stage.

The red stage lights bouncing of the glitter ball creating a sparkling effect extending out over the audience.

As she sings, Norma, runs her hands sensually up and down her face and cheeks gently,


I grow restless at the thought
I'm waiting for the day
And my heart is tied in knots
It sounds like a cliché


Upon touching the stage, the glitter ball opens like a lotus flower opening wide.  Inside the ball a number of well proportioned male dancers wearing harnesses and black leather begin to writhe and make their way across the stage.


You've got me all worked up
I'm awake around the clock
And I know I just can't stop
I wanna feel your body talk


With the glitter ball now open, Norma has been standing on a small platform.  She slides gracefully down into the arms of a couple of the burly backing dancers, who escort her to the front of the stage.

The other dancers dance like windup robots in staccato, abrupt movements.   Norma pounds her chest as she sings "beating, beating", and the backing dancers convulse to rhythm to the music.


I keep waiting
For the moment you come back to me
I keep waiting for the sound
That keeps beating, beating
I keep waiting
For your footsteps in the hall
Telling me that you're coming
I'm still waiting


A couple of the manly backing singers unclipped the petals from the glitter ball, leaving the structure as a wire sphere.  They climb on the structure, slowly making it rotate.  Offstage, the stagehand presses the pulley and the sphere begins to rise into the air once again, now spinning as the acrobatic dancers create shapes and do poses on and in the giant ball.  The stage lights pulsate in white to the beat of the music, bouncing out into the audience.


I keep waiting
For the moment you come back to me
I keep waiting for the sound
That keeps beating, beating
I keep waiting
For your footsteps in the hall
Telling me that you're coming
I can't take it anymore


Rising up from deep inside of me
An uptight feeling
It's got me reeling
It's rising up I'm about to overflow
I'm still waiting
I can't take it
Impatient


As she signs "rising up", Norma throws her hands in the air, in unison with the backing dancers.  It's a choreographed routine which gives a sense of professionalism so often missing from Beepeean entries.

With the next stanzas the director cuts between shots of Norma, the dancers (marching to the beat of the music), and the audience clapping and smiling along.

It's been only seven days
Three hours since you're gone
But let me count the ways
I want to turn you on


As she sings let me count the ways, the backing dancers, extend a hand and increased their fingers as if counting the ways themselves.


With every second that I wait
I feel it coming on
And my body starts to ache
Until that urge just gets too strong


As the urge just gets too strong, Norma and her backing beefcake  fall to the floor and crawl along the front of the stage in a sensual manner. The backing dancers jump to their feet, but Norma rolls over onto her back as she feels it rise inside.


Not waiting patiently
Drumming my fingers
Until I feel it rise inside


At which point she, and her backing dancers pull her onto her feet, with an energetic pull, that's rems to laugh Norma's petite frame much higher into the air that she anticipates.   She lands with a brief look of relief as she contiunes with the rehearsed staccato choreography.


I keep waiting
For the moment you come back to me
I keep waiting for the sound
That keeps beating, beating
I keep waiting
For your footsteps in the hall
Telling me that you're coming
I can't take it anymore


Rising up from deep inside of me
An uptight feeling
It's got me reeling
It's rising up I'm about to overflow
I'm still waiting
I can't take it
Impatient


The break in the music occurs and the burly dancers slow it down rolling and undulating to music.  Norma wanders across the stage, meandering through the dancers, as she sings.


Calm my pounding heart
It's climbing the walls
I dont know where to start
With this feeling
And with all this time apart
As I'm frustrated at all this waiting


The sound fades, to a simple beat.... and Norma's voice soars..


Be still my beating heart


The music begins to grow louder and the anticipation within audience grows.


Impatient...


Impatient...


The music and beat continues to get stronger, more energised and the audience explodes with dramatic fervor as the music reaches its climax, and the chorus begins again.


I keep waiting
For the moment you come back to me
I keep waiting for the sound
That keeps beating, beating
I keep waiting
For your footsteps in the hall
Telling me that you're coming
I can't take it


Rising up from deep inside of me
An uptight feeling
It's got me reeling
It's rising up I'm about to overflow
I'm still waiting
I can't take it
Impatient


As the final notes echo around the auditorium, the crowd, who have whipped into a frenzy by the schlager cheer and applaud loudly.  Norma and her dancers thank the crowd and leave the stage, and with that the show is over. Or at least the performances are, the night itself will go on for much longer yet...
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Sun Oct 24, 2021 3:21 pm

Image
The list of all competing countries once again, being shown now that all the acts have performed. Ignore the warning about voting - it's open now!

vous pouvez voter maintenant | voting is now open


OOC: Voting is now open, and will close on Sunday, 31st October, 23:59 PM GMT. Please send you votes either via telegram (Normandy and Picardy) or through Discord DMs. When voting, please give a full ranking of all performing entries, from 1st to 13th (you can't vote for yourself). I would also appreciate it if you could send along with it a picture of your spokesperson alongside their name and where they are being beamed in live from, and further, any RP/speech. Bonne chance!
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:07 pm

It would be the best part of an hour before the voting sequence began, even though televoting was only open for about 20 of those minutes. Yes, this was a Normand hosting taking place, and they really did drag out the time for seemingly no reason, with everything done in French - with little in the way of translation help given. At this point, in fact, some broadcasters put on other programming to cover the wait. You might have thought SRNP might have learnt by now but they were, as ever, very stubborn; they were doing it their way or no way at all. And their way consisted of Marie again put on the spot to fill slots with long monologues, which the crowd in the stadium and the Normand viewers found interesting and entertaining; there was Hugo Levalier, probably the most popular comedian in Normandy and Picardy, particularly noted for his integration of music - including live performance - into his act, which might have attracted some attention at least (though the actual comedy being in French made things hard); there was a random interview with and performance by a local folk group, something a bit more normal perhaps until you realise the interview went on much longer than the actual performance; and Rouen's football team who apparently had been pressed into servide (and these, folks, are just the highlights!) In any case, eventually the producers decided it might be an idea to get on with the voting, so Marie took her position on the front stage pedestal, and commentators reintroduced themselves to their viewers. Again, Marie delivered this section in both French first and then English, but I will just present it as French and translation below:

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"Alors, Madames et Messieurs, le temps, c'est maintenant. Voilà, le tableau d'affichage montre les quatorze pays qui disputent ce festival ici ce soir, avec ma belle moi au centre. Tout les concurrents ont zéro points au début. Notre mission est l'attribution des points qui leur ont été donnés par le vote des plusieurs juries nationals et des télévoters et, à la fin, nous aurons un vainqueur"
So, ladies and gentleman, the time is now. Behind me is the scoreboard which shows the fourteen countries here competing to win the festival this evening, along with my lovely self in the middle. All the competitors have zero points to start with. Our mission is to hand out the points that have been given to them by the voting of the various national juries and televoters, and at the end of the night, we will have a winner.

This was met by an almost thunderous applause in the Stade Oceane. At last, they were getting on with it... (even the Normands had got fed up)

"Cette sera effectuée par deux étape. La première étape, je présenterai les points cumulatifs de 4 à 1 pour chaque pays, du moins au plus. La deuxième étape, un représentatif de chaque société de radiodiffusion apparaîtra en live de leur pays afin qu'il donne 5 points à moi, ou plus au chanteur. Tout les points seront additionnés au fur et à mesure et ils seront montrés sur cet écran. Alors, allons-y!"
This will be done in two stages. In the first stage, I will present the total added-up points from 4 to 1 for each country, from the least to the most. In the second stage, a representative of the broadcaster of each country will appear live from their country to give me, or rather their favourite competing act, 5 points. All the points will be all be added up as we go along and shown on this screen. So, let's begin!
Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:14 pm

"Et, alors... nous commencons avec, malheureusement, zéro point. Les pays qui n'ont rien recu sont...
And, so... we start with, unfortunately, zero points. The countries who have been given nothing are...

Nouvelle Douria et Azab Indosiar
New Douria and Azab Indosiar
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Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:19 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:21 pm

C'est une meilleure nouvelle pour le prochain pays, qui ont été donné quatre points. Ces quatres points sont attribués à...
It's better news for the next country, which has been given four points. Those four points are going to...

Kuala Lumpie
Kuala Lumpia
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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:27 pm

"Suivant, sept points, deux pays ont chacun recu sept points dans cette étape. Ces pays sont...
Next, seven points, two countries have received seven points each in this stage. Those countries are...

Britonisie et Filshie!
Britonisea and Filshia
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Last edited by Normandy and Picardy on Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:32 pm

"Alors, maintenant, le prochain pays ont été attribué huit points du total des points de 1 à 4. Huit points sont pour...
So, now, the next country has received eight pounts from the total of the 4-1 points. Eight points are for...

Samoudère Darussalame
Samudera Darussalam
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Northern French Names but with a general Western Med vibe, welcome to N&P

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Normandy and Picardy
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Posts: 1953
Founded: Aug 11, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:34 pm

Maintenant, nous passons à neuf points, qui sont attribués à...
Now, we move on to nine points, which are given to...

Pemecutan
Pemecutan
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Normandy and Picardy
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:40 pm

"Les prochains pays qui recevront leurs points pour cette étape sont été donné dix points. Les prochains pays sont...
The next countries to receive their points for this stage have been given ten points. The next countries are...

Bépé et Adab!
Beepee and Adab
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Normandy and Picardy » Mon Nov 01, 2021 4:46 pm

Seulement cinq pays n'ont pas encore recu de points. Le prochain pays, qui atteint le cinquième place dans cette étape du vote et a recu onze points, c'est...
Only five countries have yet to receive their points. The next country, which has achieved fifth place in this stage of the vote and has received eleven points, is...

Carrelie
Carrelie
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