Your download is a live number from the new Mylene Farmer "Stade de France" DVD, a classic song titled "A quoi je sers," which first saw life as a 1989 single. Despite the pretty melody, the words are grim (as are so many of Mylene's lyrics…she writes the words while Laurent Boutonnat supplies the music).
A quoi je sers
Poussière vivante, je cherche en vain ma voie lactée
Dans ma tourmente, je n'ai trouvé qu'un mausolée
Et je divague. J'ai peur du vide
Je tourne des pages. Mais… des pages vides
Poussière errante, je n'ai pas su me diriger
Chaque heure demande pour qui, pour quoi, se redresser
Et je divague. J'ai peur du vide
Pourquoi ces larmes. Dis… à quoi bon vivre...
Mais mon Dieu de quoi j'ai l'air
Je sers à rien du tout
Et qui peut dire dans cet enfer
Ce qu'on attend de nous, j'avoue
Ne plus savoir à quoi je sers
Sans doute à rien du tout
A présent je peux ma taire
Si tout devient dégout
Poussière brûlante, la fièvre a eu raison de moi
Je ris sans rire, je vis, je fais n'importe quoi
Et je divague.J'ai peur du vide
Je tourne des pages. Mais… des pages vides
Mais mon Dieu de quoi j'ai l'air
Je sers à rien du tout
Et qui peut dire dans cet enfer
Ce qu'on attend de nous, j'avoue
Ne plus savoir à quoi je sers
Sans doute à rien du tout
A présent je peux ma taire
Si tout devient dégout
Literal translation can render Mylene's words even more Dylanesque than they usually are. For example, the last lines of the song can be translated literally as: Now I can quiet myself if everything becomes disgusting." But in her context, she's saying that she's learned how to calm herself down when faced with anything overwhelming, or stressful (or repulsive). The title literally translates as "what I 'm used for" but the colloquial English is: "what good am I?" or "what am I good for?" "Mais mon Dieu de quoi j'ai l'air" is literally "But my God how I look," but we know she's most likely wondering how she looks to others, or wondering how others perceive her.
When translating, one must be both poetic in the new language and true to the spirit of the original's language. When done properly, a Kafka, Camus or Dostoyevsky comes to life in English, or an Edgar Poe becomes an icon in France. It's a difficult thing, especially when the artist is challenging, or indulges in stream of conscious and wordplay. How would a Frenchman translate Dylan's line, "the sun's not yellow it's chicken"? How different it would be if someone in France translated Dylan's song title not as "Blowin' in the Wind" but "flowin''" or "sailin'" or "dancin'" in the wind.
The opening line here says "I search in vain my Milky Way," but I think it would be a mistake to take this too literally. Analyzing the line would suggest she's looking for her place in the Cosmos, her Nirvana, her peace as one with the Universe.
In the song's opening lines, she describes the angst of being unable to find peace with religion or a spiritual one-ness with the Milky Way and the heaven behind it, and remains obsessed with death, and of ceasing to exist while the world keeps turning. The protagonist here also finds no comfort in relationships or work. Her alienation and doubt leads her to acknowledge (for better or worse) that at best she's learned to stay calm or ignore her inner demons when faced with existential stress. Quite a symbolic image she conjures…going through the time she has left in a tranquilized fog, like turning pages that are blank.
Translation:
What Good Am I
Living dust, I search in vain for my Milky Way
In my turmoil, I found a mausoleum
My thoughts haunt me:
I'm afraid of the void
I turn the pages
But they are empty
Wandering dust, I can't find my way
Every hour asks, for whom, for what should one rise up?
And I wander, afraid of the void
What are my tears for?
Tell me.. what's the use of living
But my God, how do others view me?
I can't function
And who can say in this hell
What we are expected to do. I confess
I don't know anymore, what good I am
Without a doubt, for nothing
Now I can make myself numb
when things become overwhelming.
chorus:
Burning dust, the fever has overtaken me
I laugh without laughing, I live, doing whatever
And I wander
I'm afraid of the void
I turn the pages
But... they are empty
It's worth noting, in regard to this song, a recent remark from Mylene. Her birthday, September 12th, happened to be the same date as the premiere concert. Just before the show she told an interviewer, loosely translated: "I like a line by Samuel Beckett very much: “My birth was my loss." I've been thinking about that for several years now ...time is not my friend. When it’s too long, I’m bored. When it’s too short, I get anxious..."
At the opening of Mylene's new concert film, a giant stadium full of Farmer fanatics wave their hands in a frenzy. These Frenchies are fried; their string-potato arms waving in the air like a soggy sea of wheat. This robot skeleton army of fans is greeted with actual skull images from the stage, and then Mylene and her fanciers appear, wearing body suits that mimic skinned corpses showing muscles and veins. But soon enough, Mylene's wearing all kinds of costumes over her body, and like Poe's masque, she tends to favor red and black. While she begins the show exposing the body as nothing but arteries and flesh, and so many of her songs dwell in aspects of death and loss, there is the saving sexuality; Mylene changes into sensual costumes and her presence radiates life.
This may be the best Mylene concert yet, since she's actually in an upbeat mood with a lot of smiles and confidence. She doesn't even choke up on "Rever," which would strike even the most ardent fan as being over-acting at this point. When she does get to an emotional line, she contents herself with simply not singing it and allowing the audience to karaoke it for her.
Yes, the director suffers from ADD and insists on changing camera angles literally every two seconds, which wearies the eye and prevents the real Farmer fan from constant visual worship of the idol, but at least the audience shots aren't as distracting as in previous shows. Thankfully, this time the front rows are stocked with some decent looking female fans, and couples, and not extremely ugly gays posturing and swooning. And while Abe Laboriel Jr. is a great drummer, his unsightly presence is not missed this time around, which also helps keep the stage visuals erotic most of them time...if not downright kinky, as with songs that offer back-up male dancers in tu-tu's or women in what seem to be jockstraps. And of course there's usual religious game-playing (back-up singers in habits, guitarists in priest collars) and Mylene sporting a thorny crown of crucifixes in her bloody red hair.
Sometimes explained as "the French version of Madonna," Mylene has always tended to ignore the aerobic aspect of concertizing. Madonna's shows are much more athletic, and frankly Mylene is not that much of a gymnast. At one point she and her dancers do a stoop-shouldered, fists to the ground move that recalls what Stephanie Birkett did on David Letterman's show, to show how ridiculously her ex-boyfriend (not "Joe" Halderman?) looked on the disco floor. Physically, Mylene's really too cool for either Madonna's sweatiness or Kate Bush's affected eccentricity. Lyrically, Mylene's songs are deeper and more intellectual than Madonna and the only similarity is that quite often both women like to "shock" on religious and sexual issues with both words and visuals.
It's bizarre that Mylene Farmer is almost unknown in America or Great Britain, but she seems very comfortable with this. She was happy to escape France for a while and hang out in L.A. where nobody recognized her. Canada-born, she could easily supply official English translations for her songs, or sing a few numbers in English. The closest she's gotten is "Fuck Them All" (ok, most of it is in French, but we get the chorus) and a duet with the American dweeb Moby and the over-achieving Seal.
The DVD concert once again proves that even if her CD sales aren't as big as before (whose is?) Mylene is still fascinatingly gorgeous and is so HUGE she can sell out night after night in big stadiums, putting on very expensive shows with carefully chosen images on the giant screens that involve a lot of time, costumes and choreography. The result is as spectacular as a midnight mass or Easter service at Notre Dame or St. Patrick's Cathedral, and for many, the aspects of idolization of a religious leader, lust of sex and questions about death and the beyond are magnified best via worship at the church of Mylene Farmer.
MYLENE FARMER "A quoi je sers" No pop-ups, pop-unders, porn-ads or wait time.
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