When learning French as a kid, I found the word for “Sunday” to be a bit mystifying. The days leading up to it all ended the same way: Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi…but then Sunday brazenly disrupts the pattern with its bizarre Dimanche.
Rather than asking someone, I came up with my own explanation, based on my very rudimentary understanding of how language worked. I surmised that “di” clearly meant “day” since it came at the end of the name for each day of the week. I also knew (thanks to those helpful units about clothing) that “manche” was French for “sleeve.”
Therefore: “Dimanche” must mean “Day of Sleeves.”
Which…made a little bit of sense in the context of my experience of Sunday being a day for relaxation. I mean, who knew? Maybe the French liked to relax by slipping into a sweater, right?
At some point along the way I made the disappointing discovery that the actual meaning was “Day of the Lord.” Okay, fair enough.
But I’m still willing to set aside a day for sleeves.
Jordane Tumarinson’s 2020 album Petites Histoires de Mon Enfance (“Little Stories from my Childhood”) presents a series of piano compositions as playful and charming as Frederic Mompou’s Scènes d’Enfants, but with a 21st-Century sensibility. “Ambiance Dimanche” is my favourite.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The 3/4 time signature evokes a circus-like sense of fun.
2. Like any Sunday the vibe of the song is relaxed, but with an underlying sense of unease at the prospect of the coming week.
3. In the final moments, the tempo slows drastically. It feels like an arm slowly stretching into the sleeve of a sweater.
Recommended listening activity:
Holding a mug of something warm, not with your hands but with your sleeves.