I’m never much happier than when I have a good, wholesome, all consuming music fad taking over my life, so happy indeed I am to report that I am at the moment listening to very little apart from French pop from the 1960s, in particular Francoise Hardy.
Regular readers of my blog (there are millions, I keep telling myself) will know that to my shame, I decided to investigate her music after building up a crush of monolithic proportions based on a photo of her from 1966 that was given pride of place in my legendary (but very tasteful) ‘Fittie Folder’. But the truth is I am not quite that shallow and the only reason I found that photo in the first place was because I was already listening to Serge Gainsbourg and there she was, in all her loveliness, on the ‘if you like this you might enjoy this’ bit of Gainsbourg’s Amazon pages.
My starting point was what turned out to be possibly the best value CD I have ever bought, a Hardy compilation called ‘The Vogue Years’ – 50 tracks on a double CD package, excellent photos and sleevenotes and all a bargain at £4.50 with free P&P from Amazon. 50 tracks in one go from an artist I am completely new to is a lot to take on, so, being Col, I stuck it on I-tunes (and straight onto the ipod), found myself an excellent Hardy discography online, then spent a long evening splitting the tracks into sections based on the original album they first appeared on. I even downloaded the cover art for each album, so that anyone casually browsing through my ‘pod’ will be bowled over at the extent of my Hardy collection (or perhaps not). All in all this has made it a lot easier to listen in relevant, smaller sections rather than trawling through the whole thing in one go.
Despite the fact that she audibly matures musically (and I presume lyrically, although I never did pay much attention in French lessons) over the period covered here (1962 – 1967) there is a generally pleasant ambience throughout, conjuring up images of Parisien pavement cafes, good quality coffee, non tipped Gaulloises and beautiful young people on scooters or in Deux Cheveaux. This is of course aided by the fact that all songs (on this compilation at least, as she did record in English and other languages too) are sung in her native French. She was (still is) a very clever lady too, writing most of her own songs and playing the guitar. The language barrier is no big deal, as her voice is beautiful in itself, soft and understated; the only comparison I can make is that at times she sounds a little Marianne Faithful in her early days of the mid sixties when recording for Decca. There are many beautiful songs here (I can honestly say I don’t think there is a ‘bad’ track out of the entire 50), many of which have a familiar melody and may well have been re-written into English hits, but at this moment in time I can’t think of a single example.
The earlier material here is more conventional 1960s pop, blending influences of twist, beat, Phil Spector and the ‘Wall Of Sound’, The Shadows, Motown and The Beatles, later progressing to introspective folk, plaintive ballads, rock and more traditional French ‘chanson’
I’m still getting acquainted with what is effectively an ‘instant Francoise collection’ (it’s certainly too comprehensive to be considered just a ‘greatest hits’) and it continues to grow on me, but so far, for me the strongest material is from what seems to be two of her most critically acclaimed albums; ‘Mon Amie Le Rose’ (1964) and ‘L’Amitee’ (1965) both of which are included almost in their entirety on ‘The Vogue Years’
This is very beautiful, unimposing, melodic pop from a fine, talented artist that is the perfect antidote to all that is the stress of modern life. Something as simple and accessible as this music and her fine voice can not only take me away from things for a while, but reaffirm my love of life in the process.
In a word, 'Wow'
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