Charles
Aznavour, who died last week at the age of 94, was described on the BBC as a “French
singer” and in some US media as the “French Sinatra”. In a way he was both. Not
only did he continue performing long after what is considered a normal age for
retirement but, almost uniquely among French popular singers, he was loved,
admired and performed to packed houses all over the world. He conquered the United
States in the 1960s performing at Carnegie Hall in New York and subsequently throughout
the country. He had only recently returned from a concert tour in Japan. He sang
not only in French but also in English, German, Italian and Spanish, playfully
exploiting the quirks of languages in contact, as in his famous song “You are for.. mi… for mi… for mi dable”
(pronounced à la française !) However, his career as a performing artist is
only a part of the story and does no justice to his place in the tradition of the
French “chanson”, of which he was one
of the most accomplished proponents and in which his most striking characteristic
was his talent as a lyricist.
Short literary
forms are surely the most demanding. The great novelists of the 19th and early
20th centuries, be they English, French, American or Russian, developed their
often epic stories and characters over hundreds of pages, narrating the fate of
families or whole dynasties caught up in the movements of history. Short story
writers on the other hand conjure up a situation, a character or an atmosphere
in just a few pages. Add the further formal constraints of rhyme and meter and
poetry is the result, whether in Shakespeare’s sonnets or Racine’s plays. Reduce
it to three of four verses and add music and you have the essence of the French “chanson”. Charles Aznavour of Armenian
origin but culturally as French as they come, developed from his favourite French
authors, particularly Louis-Ferdinand Céline or Patrick Modiano, a feel for
words and the capacity to use them with a “surgical precision”, to quote one obituary
writer. Putting it more graphically, a fellow singer said in a radio interview
just after his death, that, “Charles
could write a 250-page book in 3 minutes”. Like Jacques Brel, Georges
Brassens or Renaud, Aznavour was, above all, a poet who put words to music.
The French
chanson is a unique musical genre. Like the best poets, the best French songwriters can conjure up so much in just three or four verses and
a refrain - paint a picture, tell a story, evoke an atmosphere or convey
emotion, all at once. As even a cursory analysis of some songs reveal, every
word counts and no word is out of place. Has there ever been a more moving
evocation of a young man’s unrequited love as in Jacques Brel’s tongue-in cheek “Madeleine” or the despair of second-generation
immigrants in France as in Renaud’s “Deuxième Génération”?
One of my all
time favourites in Aznavour’s vast repertoire is a song he wrote about the meagre
joys and immense torments of a homosexual man in the France of the late 1960s: “Comme ils disent” … a title that means
nothing and everything at the same time.
The bare bones in English are “(a man) as they say” … but to make sense
it has to be read as something like “you know, that kind of man…. “ Just a
year ago Aznavour told a TV interviewer that when he was thinking of lyrics, he
needed first to find a title, and then he could weave the rest of the song around
it. A similar point to that of Charles Dickens who said that he could only
develop a character once he had found the right name. In an Aznavour song, as
in many other “chansons à texte”, the
precision of each word becomes apparent as soon as one tries to translate the lyrics
into something that makes sense in English. The first line is, “J’habite
seul avec Maman…” .With whom ? “Maman”,
not “Mummy” or “Mum”, too childish, nor “Mother”, too formal, only the French “Maman”, fits, both a name and a term of endearment,
used not only by children but also by grown men and women to address or
refer to their mother. And of course, it takes on a special resonance when used
by a gay man. By the end of the song’s three verses, we have a complete picture
of the “artist” performing striptease in a transvestite club, his late dinners
with fellow performers “of all sexes”, the cruel and homophobic (as we would
call it today) mockery from other clients of the bar, the loneliness, the
torments of an unrequited passion for a younger heterosexual man. The picture, the
story, the atmosphere and the emotion are all there, served by a melancholy and
low-key musical accompaniment.
It is
difficult to find such an all-encompassing genre in English or American popular
music. It has little to do with blues or rock or soul that have been the mainstays
of that tradition since the 1950s. The Rolling Stones rose to fame on the back
of blues and rock and have hardly changed over 60 years. The Beatles started
out as rockers but then Paul McCartney in particular explored other musical
genres and styles and came closer to the French tradition in songs like “She’s leaving home” or “Eleanor Rigby”. Elton John indulged in
bouts of atmospheric nostalgia in one of his early albums, “Tumbleweed Connection”, but never seriously returned to it. The
singer who comes the closest I can think of to the idea of the French chanson is Joni Mitchell in the song, “The last time I saw Richard”.
All the
songs quoted here can be found by using the links below. Make up your own mind
and enjoy!
Comme ils disent : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKFA4gaBL2I
Madeleine : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGtQvN2pTas
Deuxième Génération :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91MsCgJ9KNM&list=RD91MsCgJ9KNM&start_radio=1&t=0
She’s leaving home :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIc8TnrC9tQ&start_radio=1&list=RDDIc8TnrC9tQ&t=0
The last time I saw
Richard : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igj20M84hbo
