Even though we’re well into February, we still don’t have much snow in Central New York, so maybe this post is a little ironic. Actually, in case you can’t understand the lyrics, take my word for it: it’s ironic. The name of the song translates as “February,” and the lyrics are sort of a free-wheeling association of all things wintery, from “February, little red nose/Februrary, a bit drunk” to “Febuary, lose your gloves/February, on skis.”
In three minutes, Vallières provides a great ode to “the little month that never ends” backed by strong handclaps and some random whooping. The song sounds like something he recorded in the midst of a booze-soaked night with a bunch of friends in a cabin—natural, and above all, fun. It’s an incredibly simple mix of musical elements that just works. There’s definitely a little sense of humor in thrown in too: from the cough in the background at 0:35 that accompanies the lyric “Frileux et gripé” (roughly translated as “chilly and sick”) to the low whistle that sounds when Vallières mentions “le vent du nord” (“the north wind”) at 0:39.
Perhaps the reason why I enjoy this song so much is because I can actually understand the lyrics—it’s tough sometimes to appreciate songs in foreign languages, especially if you’re big into lyrics, although I hope you’ll get a kick out of this nonetheless.
DISCLAIMER: My love for Quebecois music is entirely the fault of one of my high school French teachers, so if you’re reading, Ms. Noll, merci beaucoup!
