You never know where a song is going to go.
You gotta love it. A young man born in Zanzibar to a Parsi family from India moves to England, becomes the star of a major English band and writes songs for them including We Are the Champions, to be sung years later by peasants in the fields of Moldova, a country of such chequered history that its (seemingly quixotic) wish to enter the EU actually makes a kind of sense.
So much for sneering at pop music. Here’s to ya, Freddie, wherever you are.
Don’t call them peasant-some work on their own vineyards and orchads. They may studied English at school, Western music’s very popular and accessable. Moldova was fruit and vegetable basket of USSR. Very furtile land and warm climate.
Proud of my native Moldova. Great wine from Purcari. Sanatos!
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