Wes Anderson’s use of Françoise Hardy’s ‘Le temps de l’amour’ has been mentioned several times on this blog (Here, Here). For a tribute album to Anderson’s movies and the music in those movies, Marianne Dissard did a great coverversion of Le temps.
More about the tribute album, featuring tracks by Mike Watt, Juliana Hatfield, William Fitzsimmons and Kristin Hersh, HERE, listen to the full album on Soundcloud HERE
The television broadcast in which Françoise Hardy made her first appearance (well as far as we know) on Dutch television, has gained a mythical status.
Unfortunately not because of Françoise….
It was on October 12, 1963 when she received an Edison in Scheveningen. The television registration of this “Grand Gala du Disque” as it was called is still known in the minds of viewers (and those who only heard about it). That was mainly because of the presenter, writer and comedian Godfried Bomans. Not only did he look drunk (or at least tipsy), it was especially what he said to the award winners that made it legendary.
Especially the remark he made before the star of the evening Marlene Dietrich came on stage: “ Oh how I wish my wife had only one leg like that”. In the following days this became the talk of the town. People were talking about it, newspapers writing articles about what happened and even serious editorials comments appeared in the papers.
But what about Françoise?
I couldn’t find any references to whether she actually performed that night. Couldn’t find the complete show, and the papers don’t mention it, so I guess she only showed up to accept her award. I did find this picture in which she sings with the same dress, she wears in the show, but that was dated October 1964…
In his speech Bomans starts by staring at here saying: “my dad used to say that it is OK to stare”. Françoise seems to be at ease, and surprised but during the talk she seems pretty much a relaxed 19 year old girl.
After some chit chat about her name and the non pronunciation of the “H” in “Ardy, he gives her the Edison in the category youth, by saying: “And why, mademoiselle? Because you are an idol for the youth in France, but it is mainly because you had the courage not to imitate the Americans in your genre. You kept your original style; you write your own texts, compose your own melodies and you are a creative artist. That’s rare. It is for all that that I have the honour to present to you our sincere tribute”.
Here you can see the whole show (FH entering at 9:50)
Françoise H. knew ’em all, and among her countless duet partners also was Patrick Dewaere, probably the most gifted French actor of his generation – see Blier’s Les Valseuses, Corneau’s Série Noire, or certainly Granier-Deferre’s Adieu Poulet. Still a legend today, though virtually unknown outside of France, Dewaere called it quits on July 16, 1982, after a phone call from his wife Elsa who had run away to Guadeloupe with his best friend Coluche; the tragi-cynical dénouement being that Dewaere shot himself with a calibre .22 rifle that he had received as a gift from Coluche not long before. When Hardy heard of his suicide, she doubtless recalled the moment when she had seen Dewaere – a nobody then – perform a decade ago at the famous Café de la Gare, where she had also asked him if he had a song for her. In 1971, they recorded T’es pas poli (You’re Not Polite). It’s not a very good song, but a charming one, and among all those interchangeable daughter-in-law schlager ditties in Hardy’s œuvre a different, peculiarly private and precious moment.
Françoise Hardy/ Patrick Dewaere – T’es pas poli
Raphaël – Chanson pour Patrick Dewaere
Another guestpost! St. Paul is one hell of a DJ, and a musical omivore. Just try one of his brilliant Perfect Kippevel (Perfect Goosebumps) compilations on Perfects.nl (this one, or this one). For this blog, he wrote a touching and highly personal post on his favourite Françoise-track:
“My girlfriend’s parents owned a second house in the south of France. They were a typical wine drinking, culturally engaged and fun loving family, while I was busy fighting off teenage angst listening to Nirvana. I lived alone with my mother and, because there was never enough money, I had never been on a holiday, not even within our own country.
So when I got a call from my girlfriend to come over to their house in France, an almost uncontrollable burst of excitement came over me. Armed with a carefully selected tape full of French songs and a rose for every day that we would be together I travelled a thousand miles to see her. As I reached the land of romance and finesse I found out that the love of my life had slept with the local guitar teacher.
I’m not a Francophile. What I still cherish though, are the songs. The songs from that tape. And the songs that i got to know in the years to come. My favorite Francoise Hardy tune would be Le Temps De L’Amour. For all the obvious reasons, such as the bouncy but delicate backbeat and of course the bittersweet vocals.
But it also works wonderfully in one of the greatest movies of all time. That classic dancing scene in Moonrise Kingdom only confirms the vivid qualities of the song. To me the scene feels more like an image track to the music than the other way around. It’s as director Wes Anderson tried to make the perfect music video, just like Spike Jonze recently did with Arcade Fire’s Afterlife.
Many of Hardy’s songs evoke an instant mental picture. They invade the heart as much as the mind. A lot of it has to do with the highly romantic delivery. As a DJ I consider myself to be a professional escapist, thus falling in love with your favorite female artists would be the easiest thing to do. Except it’s not. Take Beyoncé, she runs the world with her looks, songs and charm. But she remains too much of a star to feel closely connected to. With Francoise Hardy it’s different. When you see her walking down the street, rowing a boat or simply looking into the camera it’s as if she’s addressing you and only you. Like ‘messages personnels’, her songs have an immediate power. It’s like first love all over again. But this time everything’s alright.’
Quand le temps va et vient,
on ne pense a rien malgre ses blessures.
Françoise Hardy turns 70 years old this week, this blog is marking that date firmly. Here’s a cover of a wonderful Hardy-song especially recorded for FillesSourires by the lovely Scarlatine (pictured) from Canada. You may remember Judith from a feature on FillesSourires (see here). She chose a track from Françoise’s first album from 1962, kept the waltzing tempo and added a choir plus some electronics. It’s modern with a retro tristesse feel.
Scarlatine – J’ai jeté mon coeur
Musica Nuda, naked music, is an Italian duo (vocalist Petra Magoni, upright bass player Feruccio Spinetti). It’s a ‘vocal ‘n bass’ twosome who enjoy the art of silence in music. From the bio: ‘a basic and often underrated aspect of it, that leads to the true emotion and underline the value or a lyric, a story, the meaning of every single song, no matter if it’s dramatic, funny, energetic, romantic, sarcastic.’ Musica Nuda usually sing in English, they have worked with several jazz(y) artists, including French heroes like Sanseverino and Jacques Higelin, and recorded songs by Henri Salvador. On the just released new album Banda Larga they’ve expanded their sound, with wood, brass and steel. Listen to a spine tickling version of Des Ronds dans l’eau, written by Pierre Barouh and made famous by Françoise Hardy. And like Sky points out in the comments, this song does sound a lot like Frankie Valli’s Can’t take my eyes off of you.
Speaking of Françoise, she turns 70 next January. FillesSourires will mark that occasion with some very special posts. More on that later.
Musica Nuda – Des rons dans l’eau
Live version:
The new François Ozon movie, Jeune & Jolie, features four chansons by FS favorite Françoise Hardy, among them the solemn Première rencontre from 1973. Caution: Don’t listen sans parapluie et dix mouchoirs.
It’s not the first time that German Schlager star Mary Roos is singing in French. Actually, she was the darling of the whole of Paris when she performed at the Olympia in the 70s after smash hits like L’autoroute or L’animal en blue-jeans; obviously her Gallic admirers couldn’t tell Mary from Francoise Hardy, or weren’t aware of her native productions, among them the legendary Arizona Man, the very first German pop atrocity with a synthesizer, composed by Giorgio Moroder (!) and Michael Holm (who had written the soundtrack for Mark of the Devil the very same year). And she’s still at it: Her most recent album Denk was du willst features a somewhat sterile, but strangely touching version of Jacques Brel’s Ne me quitte pas. Plus a cover of Caetano Veloso’s O Leaozinho. That dame’s got taste.
Mary Roos – Ne me quitte pas
Mary Roos – O Leaozinho
‘Françoise was a confirmed Anglophile who had wanted to record in Britain, with British arrangers, as soon as she became famous’, Bob Stanley writes in the liner notes of ‘Midnight Blues’, a compilation of Hardy’s finest English songs, recorded between 1968 and 1972. I’m not a real fan of Fran’s English songs. It’s the accent, it’s the fact that the translated songs were better in their original form. I like her better in Italian (Spotify-link), but, granted, there are some nice tunes. As is always the case with Ace, the liner-notes are fine, it sounds great and the photos are carefully chosen. One of the things St.Etienne’s Bob Stanley can’t stop fussing about, is how thin and beautiful Hardy was back in the day. ‘In England, it was certainly my physique which pleasured people’, Hardy is quoted. Producer Tony Cox, who tried to set up a collaboration between Nick Drake and Hardy (it didn’t work) says: ‘We’d go out for dinner and every head would turn.’ A part from All Over the World, no single or English album was a bona fide hit in Britain. But she did work with several interesting arrangers and musicians, like Fairport Convention’s Richard Thompson and members of folkband Fatheringay. Here’s two tracks from the compilation:
Françoise Hardy – Midnight Blues
Françoise Hardy – Let My Name Be Sorrow
The new album and the new novel are out. Listen to a beautiful new song below.
Françoise Hardy – Si vous n’avez rien à me dire…
