Growing up in the South of France, Occitan and its music was never far away. From the lively bands at night markets, to odd posters advertising language classes I never dared to take, this not-quite-dead-yet language is a staple of rural French, Italian, and Spanish culture. Originating from vulgar Latin, its name comes from the union of the Occitan ‘òc’, meaning yes, and ‘aquitanus’, the region in the south west of France in which it was spoken. For centuries, troubadours spoke the langue d’Oc and used their tunes to sing the first courtly love songs, until the language was eventually repressed during the French revolution and Napoleonic eras. Its haunting folk songs are defined by clipped vocals and a whole lot of harmonicas. It’s also big on percussion, with drumming and string tambourines, while the woodwind flabiol and accordion complete its unmistakable sound.
Félix Castan, an Occitan thinker, wrote “On n’est pas le produit d’un sol, on est le produit de l’action qu’on y mène”: “We are not the product of our birthplace, we are the product of the actions we lead there.” Occitan music is not united under a single genre, but by a love of local culture. As such, though these tracks may be united by a certain sound, this music is defined by its staunchly counter-cultural identity.
While the language dates back to the Middle Ages, the celebration of it is much more recent. In a movement which Occitan speakers refer to as la vergonha (the shaming), French policy incorporated humiliating tactics to restrict the language, ultimately leading to its decline. From 1881, Minister Jules Ferry recommended schoolchildren be punished for speaking it. It was not until 1951 that Occitan was legitimized in education, and not until 2008 that it was constitutionally protected by the government.
Traditional cançouns remain a mainstay of Provençal rural gatherings, tied to a rich history kept alive by small communities. Often performed at night markets or town halls, its lively dance styles include Rondeau, Bourrée, and Branle. However, Occitan music isn’t just folk music and village fetes. In fact, over the last forty years it has grown to include a range of genres.
When Occitan began its revival in the 1960s, a militant musical movement began, named La Nòva Cançon, using the language to celebrate working class and rural communities. Between 1969 and 1984, the label Ventadorn published artists like Claudia Galibert, Léon Cordes, or Martí, a schoolteacher turned singer whose 1970 album Occitania! featured Che Guevara on the cover.
Nowadays, young artists are striving to reclaim the genre: Rodín raps exclusively in the language, experimental band Trucs infuses their music with heavy droning and a blend of traditional and electronic instruments, and female duos Cocanha and Duea incorporate polyphonic harmonies and international folk inspiration to deliver haunting tracks. Meanwhile surviving bands of the 80s and early 2000s (La Taverna, Nadau and Massilia Sound System) infused rock, rap, and reggae into their tracks, all to reinvent the sounds of the south.
Massilia Sound System – ‘3968 CR13’
Sun warms your cheeks, petrol pricks at your nose, and history opens its arms as you ride a beat-up blue Citroen into a bustling Marseille. As one of the biggest Occitan bands in France, Massilia Sound System makes for a great introduction to the genre. Blending French lyrics with Occitan, the bilingual band was founded in Marseille in the 1980s as a reaction to Marine Le Pen’s right-wing politics.
With supporters flocking to anti-fascist protests…
