Swiss german is the most heartbreakingly beautiful way of speaking, like, ever. I heard a couple chatting waiting for the 61 bus, and I tried to guess what it was they were speaking: I could pick up that it was something germanic. It was thick with lovely sounds, fricatives way back in the throat, stops palatal and delicate, high-tongued in the mouth, lip-rounded front vowels, and a rolling melody like scotch english, maybe something scandinavian, a hop up in pitch at the end of the sentence. The guy was tall, pleasantly academic-looking. The timbre of his voice was calm and paternal, sort of quiet even though you could hear it clearly. It reminded me of Wilfred Sieg, who tought philosophy of math back when I was a freshman or a sophomore or something. The woman - she looked half-indian, half-european - didn't say much, but when she did, jesus: her voice was low basically, but danced up and down on short little sentences, gorgeously. It was almost synaesthesia, the way I could all but taste her voice. So good.
Anyway, I embarrassed myself asking if it was dutch; "close!" the guy said, charitably. Kind of totally the wrong side of the german-speaking world, I thought to myself.
The version of "Song for the Dumped" on "Naked Baby Photos" is fucking awesome.