Fuck, putain, mrdat, foda-se, joder, coño, scheiße, kut, and cazzo. I wish I spoke more fucking languages.
Nine… count that. There are nine fucking languages on this album. Most of those words aren’t in the same language as the ones on the album. If you’re asking me how accurately each language is sung on the album, I have no fucking clue. I yell at Rosetta Stone like it’s a fucking person on a daily basis. Bilingualism? Sure. Trilingualism? Okay. I’ll even accept seven. But nine? Novemlingual? That’s not even a fucking word. “Well,” the one person who actually speaks nine languages might say, “I tell people I’m multilingual or a polyglot to save time.” Listen fucko, unless you’re a South African diplomat, a linguist, a professional singer like Elina Duni, or James fucking Bond, there’s no way you’re doing all those languages justice and you’re making me feel really fucking insecure. So there!
That’s right. That imaginary motherfucker can go polyglottal some balls.
When Elina Duni sings, it doesn’t matter how many languages you speak or understand. You wouldn’t need to understand a fucking word to get what Elina is saying. Elina, usually backed by a quartet, decided to strip everything away that wasn’t essential to the main message of the album. What message is that? Solitude, loss, and love. Often on this album, she’s backed by a single guitar or a simple piano line. Her voice fills in the rest of the space. Her shaky vibrato, accompanied with a tone that resembles the late Lhasa de Sela (Lhasa), is more hypnotizing than an internet-meme reality-show house party featuring celebrity politicians on Dwane Johnson’s fucking yacht during a Christmas extravaganza giving away Chryslers.
This album is something to listen to as the sun sets and you’re halfway through a decent bottle of wine. This isn’t a “woe-is-me-I-can’t-live-without-someone” type of vibe. It’s not desperate like that. This is more of a “Ya, life’s a bitch: a dirty, nasty, and beautiful bitch” kind of vibe. Elina takes on Jacques Brel’s “Je ne sais pas” with absolute class on this album. The song “Let Us Dive In” is written by Elina herself. The rest of this collection is also absolutely spot fucking on. The first song is Domenico Modugno’s “Amara Terra Mia” (Bitter land of mine). It’s about someone leaving their home. They walk away and see this baby crying cause it’s trying to nurse on this pathetic excuse of a tit. The chorus ends with, “Bitter land of mine. Bitter and beautiful” (translated). Alain Oulman’s “Meu Amor” (more commonly titled “Meu Amor, Meu Amor”) is a song from the perspective of one lover addressing another in this skypeless long-distance relationship. It’s absolutely fucking heartbreaking. Each of these songs has a thick fucking story. The real intent and soul of each song comes through because Elina is a master fucking storyteller. She puts every ounce of herself into these songs. I’ll be listening to this shit more than once. It’s fucking gorgeous. So brava, encore, sophos, tako valja, olé, braavo, mainiota, bagus, and fucking aye Elina. You owned this shit novemlingually.