Françoise Hardy in Manchester!
Photos by Ernest Chapman (Daily Mirror)
Heavens! This is Françoise Hardy, my favourite female singer (by a trillion miles), in Platt Fields Park, Fallowfield, Manchester, 13th May 1965, three months before I was born. It's my neck of the woods. I know Fallowfield from my research days in Manchester (1995-2001). There is a Chorlton-cum-Hardy in Manchester, a suburban area four miles southwest of the city centre. It's not far west of Platt Fields Park, just over a couple of miles away, a forty minute walk. And after a walk like that, you'll need a little sit-down.
It is most strange seeing this. To me, it’s like seeing a picture of Elvis in Recreation Park, St Helens, a park I’ve played football in, a park I've even seen the Queen in, in 1977, as part of the Silver Jubilee celebrations. I just can’t picture seeing Elvis there. Or Françoise Hardy for that matter. I’m not sure why these photographs took me by surprise. It's not like Françoise Hardy really is some mythical figure who never did TV shows and live appearances and such like. Not really. She may have ceased live tours in 1968, but she’s always been a regular sight on French TV. She's real enough. She just seems very remote at this distance in the UK, and not the kind of person you would expect to meet in a park in Manchester. It's probably all the years of investigation and shoe leather I spent trying to track her music down over the years. These were the years before we could just push buttons on the Internet and find in an instant what we were looking for. Record hunting and collecting was intense, feverish, and fun. It was hard work, involving a lot of travelling and walking, and a lot of investigation. I loved my record collecting days. I built a very nice vinyl collection in the process, as well as becoming something of an expert. It was a really good hobby, rooting around in boxes in basements in Liverpool and Manchester, and meeting similar obsessives for whom it all matters so much it aches.
Oh yes, Manchester! When I first heard a Françoise Hardy song I was immediately captivated. And I mean immediately. I distinctly remember the evening well. The very first line had me hooked. I remember sitting up to listen closely to the song, being swept away, whilst hoping and praying, pessimist as I am, that the song would stay as good as it had started for the rest of the song. Many times a song has captured my attention, only to disappoint as it continued. This one was different, it built in intensity, a perfect sad beauty. I remember sitting intently by the radio, determined to catch the name of this singer, worrying that connection may be lost before the song had finished, or that the DJ would fail to give her name. The DJ was Stuart Maconie, a fine Wigan man, and Françoise Hardy was his choice for ‘The Critical List,’ a feature which made essential selections for the best record collections. The song he played was La Question. I had no idea who Françoise Hardy was and I had little idea what it was she was singing about: I just knew that she was singing my song. She went right to the top of my Critical List. I immediately planned to hit the local shops the next day to see what records they had by her. Not much as it turned out. I found a compilation in St Helens. This was of her early material. I liked it. It was different to my usual music selections. But the more I played it, the more its quiet lyrical qualities grew on me. I went off and found a couple more compilations in Liverpool a couple of days later. There was a two record set of her Vogue years, and a two on one set that paired the English language recordings of One Nine Seven Zero with Star. I thought Star, both song and album, stunning. But that was it. I started to piece together a biography and a discography, to have some idea what it was I was looking for. Information was terribly hard to come by. So I ventured out to Manchester, where I found much more of her music. So I forever associate Manchester with Françoise Hardy, and particularly Comment Te Dire Adieu. Having ventured so far out in expectation, I was overcome by pessimism entering the shops, believing that my journey would draw a blank. But there it was, Comment Te Dire Adieu, a real prize. And how funny it was to discover that I actually knew the song Comment Te Dire Adieu. I had always liked the tune, but will never ever listen to the Jimmy Sommerville version again. It’s an abomination set alongside Françoise’s stellar rendition.
Over the years, I would return to Manchester (and Liverpool) in search of the forever elusive Françoise. And now here I see her in that very place. Most odd.
The story behind the photo is that she was due to perform on the Top of the Pops show that evening. The show was filmed at BBC Studios, Dickenson Road, Rusholme. She was taking a break from the rehearsals in the park. I do hope there is a plaque on the bench or something suitably grand to mark the great occasion.
The Top of the Pops episode went out on13th May 1965 at 2pm
Here is the lineup:
Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues [Promo Video]
Françoise Hardy - All Over The World [Performance]
Herman's Hermits - Wonderful World [Repeat Performance]
Manfred Mann - Oh No Not My Baby [Performance]
Peter And Gordon - True Love Ways [Performance]
Sandie Shaw - Long Live Love [Performance]
The Bachelors - Marie [Repeat Performance]
The Beatles - Ticket To Ride [Promo Video]
The Rockin' Berries - Poor Man's Son [Repeat Performance]
The Seekers - A World Of Our Own [Performance]
That's not a bad line-up, and not bad company at all. Dylan and Beatles are very good, of course. I like The Seekers and Herman and the Manfred’s. Sandie Shaw had her moments. And we had The Bachelors at the Theatre Royal, St Helens, a good turn. I prefer Françoise, though. Each to their own. In Merseyside we were brought up with The Beatles. I even sat in their Yellow Submarine in Liverpool in 1967. I have all their records. I have all of Françoise’s records, too. I listen to Dylan and The Beatles every now and then. I listen to Françoise all the time. I’m not saying she has the greatest voice in history; I’m saying I like her voice. For all its limitations, it has something I like. I’m not saying she has the greatest songs in history; I’m saying I like her songs. A lot. I like her way with a song. It’s unobtrusive and doesn’t mug my sensitive ears for attention. I don’t need to be impressed and I don’t need to be challenged, I just want something that falls nicely on my ears and soothes my hard-working mind as it thinks and writes. Françoise has the voice that does that much better than the voice of anyone else.
All Over the World is a very nice song, too. It is an English language version of Dans le Monde Entier, and was a UK top twenty hit a month or so before I was born. I took to this song immediately, and I think I know why. It reminds me of the Elvis ballads I always loved. Listen to "As Long as I Have You," from 1958, “Anything that Part of You” from 1961, and “Can’t Help Falling in Love” from 1962. These are well-known Elvis ballads, and had become something of an Elvis trademark. Françoise plainly knew the style and made it her own. I'm not sure many people know how deeply her style is indebted to Elvis. You can hear it in the much less well known Elvis ballads in this style: "Where do you come from?," "Am I Ready?," and “Mine.” They are all incredibly similar to her simple ballad style. They are just simple piano ballads, far removed from the rock'n'roll for which Elvis was famous. It is apparent that Françoise Hardy not only loved these kinds of Elvis ballads, but built her trademark introspective style on them. We know this because she has said so. So no wonder I like her. (Elvis is my favourite singer, as the world knows, because I keep telling it).
Françoise cites “Where Do You Come From?” as the template for her simple ballad style, exemplified by “All over the World:”
'Elvis Presley was an important influence, and we all love him very, very, very much. I wrote a song called “All Over the World,” which was influenced by this kind of ballad so much that the British musician I was working with, Charles Blackwell, put choirs behind me who sounded exactly like [Presley’s background singers] the Jordanaires. I think that had something to do with the success that song had in England.'
The 74-year-old singer talks about the songs that have impacted her most,
Yes, we all love Elvis very much. And the UK loved “All over the World” a lot. It was her biggest hit in the UK, giving her something of a high profile amidst the wave of Beatlemania.
She also cites Elvis' Anything That's Part of You as an influence:
I like the fact that Françoise went for the more obscure, softer Elvis stuff, for something a bit more subtle than "Hound Dog." It seems that Elvis sparked a little quiet revolution here, to go alongside his more obvious revolution, the one that four ex-skifflers from Liverpool responded to. Françoise had failed a number of auditions as a singer before finally being offered a contract at Vogue. The song that did it for her was a French language version of Elvis' "I Gotta Know." Yeah! No wonder we all love Elvis! The world owes Elvis a lot.
I have no idea how many millions of words I have read and written with Françoise's voice in my ears.
People who remember her in the UK seem to think of her as a sixties icon who disappeared along with black and white film at the end of the sixties. In 1970, the world went colour, and Françoise disappeared, forever remembered as a grainy black and white image. At least as far as the UK is concerned. This is a travesty. Françoise Hardy got better and better with age, and her most recent album from last year, Personne d’Autre, contains some minor masterpieces.
Those who think she disappeared in the sixties are wrong and are missing out on some fine music. Françoise got better in the seventies, had a dip in the 80s, (with some excellent tracks nevertheless, it was that kind of decade), but came back to record some seriously substantial material from 2000's "Clair Obscur" to last year's "Personne d'Autre." The eighties stuff is the weakest with its dated arrangements, but has the odd gem like "Que tu m'enterres" and "Mazurka" and lots of others. (And gems they are).
As for the lost album of Françoise Hardy recording Nick Drake's songs, I like this kind of soft, gentle, wistful, innately lyrical kind of song. There are not many raised voices on the Françoise and Nick songs. Nice music to have in your ears when writing (along with the symphonies, my staple). I'd put Mary Hopkin's "Earth Song/Ocean Song" in that category, too, a lovely album I'd recommend to anyone who likes these kinds of songs. I love Sandy Denny's songs, too. I'm just reading Linda Thompson claim that Sandy was sacked by Fairport Convention. The only Fairport material I have has Sandy as singer. I love her solo work. I don't bother much with Fairport without Sandy. I like Richard Thompson, though.
Anyhow, music that is, as John Martyn sang, "Solid Air." I pursue the sad story here.
In interview, Françoise repeatedly states that she loves beautiful melodies. So do I. Melody and harmony, the interpenetration of means and ends. I’ll have to get a reference to her in my forthcoming masterpiece on Dante, Dante’s Sweet Symphony of Paradise.
“For me, everything begins with the melody. Without the melody, there can be no words, but I also need this sonority, this poetic sound that the words make when they combine with the melody. This has always been my obsession. I know that I am very limited vocally, but I also know why I am still here – it is purely because I am so selective when finding the melodies.”
'Word, return to music.' I should be able to use the ideas here to describe the musical mediation and emanation in Dante’s Comedy, the way music circumvents the engulfment of poetic language.
I like her voice. I don't want to be impressed by a singer, I want to be moved. Or soothed, calmed, and reassured. At times, she’s just short of stillness and silence. And her wordless vocalizations on La Question are worth an essay of words in themselves. It's best to just listen to the album, though. That said, Françoise is a superb lyricist. The song “Mer,” from La Question, ends with some of the most achingly beautiful lines in the history of music:
Je voudrais doucement me coucher
dans la mer
magique, originelle
dans son rhythme essentiel
je voudrais que la mer
me reprenne pour renaître
ailleurs que dans ma tête
ailleurs que sur la terre
où sans mon amour
je ne peux rien faire
Which translates as:
“I would love to fall asleep in the sea—magical, original, in its essential rhythm. I would love the sea to take me back to be reborn—elsewhere than inside my head, somewhere other than the earth, where without my love I can do nothing.”
I know Françoise Hardy is not a Christian and has abandoned religion in that sense. She’s something of an introvert, a spiritual person who dabbles in astrology. But I think these lyrics encapsulate her essence very well. As someone who subscribes to an essentialist metaphysics, I do very much like this phrase ‘rhythme essential.’ And I think I can draw analogies between this passage and a beautiful passage from Dante:
E 'n la sua volontade è nostra pace:
ell' è quel mare al qual tutto si move
ciò ch'ella crïa o che natura face."
'And in His will is our peace.
It is to that sea all things move,
both what His will creates and that which nature makes.'
[Paradiso, III, 85-7]
Such things are not made true by their naming and framing, of course.
There are sweet and beautiful melodies running through Dante’s Comedy, and I think Françoise is on the same page, or hymn-sheet:
"I can’t resist a beautiful melody and the most beautiful melodies are also sad. Let’s reference adagios from great concertos for piano and violin. I’ve always thought that a grand melodic theme comes from elsewhere, from a partly divine inspiration. Beauty, in all its form, is the expression of the divine.”
I think I can get this quote into my Dante book. That sentiment, and the lines from Mer, sum up the appeal of Françoise Hardy for me.
As for being an expert, I suspect that I know Françoise Hardy's songs better than she does. My searches over the years turned up many an obscurity that she has probably long forgotten, and the odd one she may prefer to forget about. (I won't mention her weak version of La Mer on German TV. She doesn’t like it. On the plus side, I can direct you to a fantastic German single of hers from 1973, which a lot of Françoise fans haven't heard of, although it did find its way onto the reissue of Message Personnel: Wenn wilde Schwäne flieh`n. It’s really rather lovely, and impossible to get out of your head. I could even give you the German language version of the wonderful "All Because of You" ("Wie im Kreis" now that you ask). I love it that the young folk have picked up on this song, becoming a big smash as a result of being featured in "Skins" (no, I've no idea what that is, but younger folk love it, apparently).
I prefer Françoise's version, mind. But, then, I would, being an expert/fanatic who has compiled a complete songlist of hers over years of collecting. I know my stuff. That reminds me, I've missed her cover of Gainsbourg's Requiem off my list ... my work is never done ..
And on that note, I'm off to get something to eat. But I shall, no doubt, return. I have acquired that habit.