Salut! Live

I have compiled a Spotify selection for the car. I call it Français Ringard  (cheesy French), because that's what a lot of it is, a bit naff but irresistibly so, certainly to millions in the French-speaking sorld who let their hair down, singing and dancing along without trace of self-consciousness. 

In this fractious, fractured country I call my second home, and sometimes my first, it’s a rare aspect of life that unites a big majority whether they vote - shamefully - for the far right or - in some confusion - for the motley mélange of  green, red and deep red.

To make it fit for the pages of Salut! Live, I have added some obviously folk material. I’ll get to this later. And so many of these mostly inconsequential musical moments have occurred to me that I will split this little project into two, the second instalmnent therefore appearing tomorrow, Boxing Day. 

My choice begins with Les Lacs de Connemara, a full-blooded anthemic homage to the magnetic west of Ireland, all the more remarkable because Michel Sardou had never set foot in the country when he co-wrote and first recorded it; indeed, it was originally to be set in Scotland.

In the form that evolved after he and his co-writer came across a travel brochure for Ireland, it has become one of the most popular songs in France, and a source of minor controversy.

"I’m Catholic, Maureen too," Sardou's about-to-be-married hero Sean declares in lyrics that caused another French singer. Juliette Armanet, to say this was the song that would make her leave a party:  "... [it] deeply disgusts me. It’s the … sectarian side, the music is odious. It’s rightwing, nothing’s good about it”. Sardou, no stranger to being called reactionary, shrugged his shoulders. Armanet sent apologies by email. I’ll leave it there as I like the song despite its appeal to some of the least appealing characters in French politics . And at least the school-age ensemble Kids United went to Connemara to film their version. But it would be Sardou's that you'd hear at the réveillon.

Next up would probably be a disco remastering of Boney M hits but they’re in English so don’t count here.

We would be up dancing to Téléphone’s Un Autre Monde which has clocked up 30 million YouTube views. Maybe that one’s not really corny. But the Birdie Song undoubtedly is and few French parties seem to go unscathed.

It may feel like time to go when you see other party goers taking position for some irritating line dancing  - to Macarena. 

And then, with soul-destroying certainty, expect Nuit de Folie (night of madness) by a 1980s duo Début de soirée.

No sign yet of Johnny Hallyday or other usual suspects, but I risk going on for ever. Let me add some balance - even before I reach the folkie bits -  with two exceptional records that a discerning party host might play.

Mylène Farmer's Désenchantée and Indochine's Karma Girls strike me, difficult to please as I am, as being perfect pop.

The sound we associate with Farmer's biggest hit is hinted at early in Lauren Boutonnat's arty film in which the singer leads the poor, hungry and enslaved to rise up against their oppressors. The French are fond of such uprisings, even if it's often against some mildly disagreeable government project. The song we are familiar with does not fully get going until 1m 40secs into the clip. Farmer and Boutonnat co-wrote the song.

In unkind moments, I have been known to describe Indochine as a sort of French Status Quo. That's based on the catchy similarity of melody and rhythm on their album 13. This is the standout track whatever the truth of my comparison.

 Malicorne and June Tabor do not, strictly speaking, make my list (though plenty more, which I haven't room for, should). They needs to be mentioned to remind everyone this is essentially a folk site.

Malicorne ‘s J’ai Vu le Loup, le Renard et la Belette has silly words - how couldn't with a title about seeing a wolf, fox and weasel? - but I cannot imagine even French partygoers singing along so I’ve chosen an instrumental version. It's fun but Malicorne (the brainchild of Gabriel Yacoub, who had seen service as singer and guitarist with Alan Stivell) produced far better. The group broke up and reformed three times in the 1980s alone and continued until definitive disbandment in 2017.

June Tabor included Le Petit Navire on her fine 2011 album Ashore. If, from an Oxford-educated linguist the lyrics seem trite, that’s because it is a song of the nursery. Millions of French parents have sung to babies and toddlers about the little cabin boy on his first fishing trip. My children (half-French) and granddaughter heard it often enough when young though the boy sailor was not eaten - as happens here when food runs out - in the version they heard from us.

And none of the above is meant to be taken too seriously. Joyeuses fêtes to one and all.

But back to that party. I have saved the best, or maybe just the most popular, for last. Come back tomorrow to see what I had in mind and have a wonderful Christmas Day in the meantime.