It’s the birthday of Françoise Hardy today (17th January 1944). I’ll wish her well, recognizing in light of some hard medical conditions that she finds every day a struggle to survive, let alone be happy. In 2021 she announced that she would not be able to sing again due to the effects of cancer therapy.
I did think to select a favourite track, but came up with a short list of well over two hundred (336 to be precise). So I thought it best to select the very first song on her very first album in 1962 and the very last song from her last album in 2018.
She doesn’t much like ‘Tous Les Garçons et les Filles,’ which was a massive hit for her, calling it ‘trite.’ It’s never been among my favourites, either, to be honest. But her standards are high and this live performance is very charming.
So I shall simply say that Françoise Hardy started off as irresistibly magnificent and brilliant and got better and better with each passing year. Something suitably sober like that, in keeping with her quiet, understated style.
The last track on 2018’s Personne D’Autre.
As for one track from the intervening 56 years (56!), it could be any one out of a couple of hundred. My favourite track for many years was “Oui Je Dis Adieu,” during which I would just float away into dream worlds of my own, not letting the actual meaning of the words get in the way. Here, sound and mood was well ahead of lyrical truth. The lyrics are damning indictment of her partner, telling him that he’s a waste of time and space (and much more besides) and she’s off. Heck.
I’ll select this one on account of revisiting and adding to a Nick Drake essay I wrote in 2019. I published it on Academia a couple of days ago, and it has generated a little bit of interest. Nick Drake is the singer-songwriter who issued three sublime albums that sold next to nothing in his lifetime, spiralled into descent, and went to an early grave. One of the precious few artists outside of his immediate circle to have sung his praises when he was alive was none other than Françoise Hardy. Some kind of a collaboration seems to have been planned, although Françoise has said she never considered singing any of Nick’s songs, considering them too complicated for her simpler style. I’m not sure. ‘Oui Je Dis Adieu’ shows that she could handle stronger material, and the song comes from precisely the time when a collaboration was on the cards. (They have very different vocals, of course, but not that much - both may be described as exuding a cool lyrical melancholy, declaiming as much as actually singing). The colaboration never happened. Françoise recorded in the London studios where Nick recorded his three albums, Nick turned up, never said a word, and events went the way they went. Françoise in interview has said that Nick “was truly the champion of inhibition.” Which is saying something, considering she wasn’t too far behind. So it’s no wonder any possibilities for collaboration that there were went unrealised. With the quiet people of the world we are usually left speculating on the basis of a few scattered facts.
It's a fascinating tale. Francoise has at times said there was no question of a collaboration, since she considered Nick's songs to be too complicated. But there are just too many coincidences for there to have been nothing in these plans and rumours of plans - Nick's producers Joe Boyd and Tony Cox are both on record, several times, claiming a collaboration was planned, with the intention being for Nick to write some songs for Françoise; in 1971 Françoise recorded at Sound Techniques studios where Nick recorded his three albums; the recordings were made with some of the cream of English folk rock, many of whom were also on Nick Drake's sessions; Nick himself turned up at least once, but said nothing.
Sooner or later, given the inhibitions of the two principal protagonists, we enter the realm of speculation. My hunch is that Nick did write songs for Françoise, but didn't have the confidence to present them. I think I understand Nick's character fairly well. I suspect that he would do as I do, and give the slightest of hints that others completely miss or misread. I suspect that just by turning up, he would expect others to read his intentions rather than have to express them in crystal clear words. I suspect he was waiting to be cued in and on by others, who just got on with the job at hand with the result that the moment passed. We have to remember the story his sister Gabrielle told of Nick throwing his first album on her bed, with the words "there you are." She had no idea he was even recording an album. And with those few words he walked out of the room. "He was a man of few words, my brother," she said.
The story is hard to track down with any precision. Different articles, interviews, and books tell slightly different tales, with Francoise's own story shifting a little in the details. But there are more than enough consistent details to indicate that Nick's producers planned something. In fact Joe Boyd and Tony Cox have said precisely that, repeatedly and consistently. How much Françoise and Nick knew about these plans we can only speculate. Françoise in interview has said that Nick “was truly the champion of inhibition.” She wasn't too far behind. So it never happened. I suspect that Nick's producers were keen on he and his music beoming better known, and were alert to any interest in him that artists of any standing and calibre showed. In Patrick Humphries' book Nick Drake: The Biography, Drake's string arranger Robert Kirby declares an interest on his and Nick's part in Françoise Hardy:
Nick hadn't got a voice, but he used his voice perfectly on his own stuff. Françoise Hardy also hadn't got a voice. The French also came from a culture where they declaim the words, rather than have to have much of a melody. It's the lyrics that carry the song ... I think that made him think perhaps Françoise Hardy could do his stuff well: to deliver, to declaim atmospherically a lyric.
I think that's clumsily phrased. By not having a voice is meant, declaiming the lyrics, almost speaking them or whispering them, rather than singing them and juggling a million octaves. I would also emphasise that Françoise is driven by melody - everything for her starts with the melody. And I think this may go some way to explaining why she thought Nick's material to be too complicated for her.
That all said, she did record material by some fairly obscure English folk artists at this time on the 1971 album If You Listen - Trees, Beverly Martin, Allan Taylor. I think some kind of collaboration was a real possibility, certainly to the exent of recording a couple of Nick's songs. In the piece I have just issued on Academia, Solid Air; The Soul of Romantic Melodies, I speculated on which tracks on Nick's Pink Moon could have been intended for Francoise. In judging we need to bear a few things in mind. Nick was not a songwriter for others. If the songs don't quite sound like the kinds of songs Françoise would normally sing, then this may not be because they were not intended for her, but because they are first and foremost Nick songs, even if he may have written them (or some of them) with her in mind. They also have very different vocal styles. But beginning with the title track, Pink Moon, I can hear how Françoise could have attempted more than a few of the songs on the album. If you still think it unlikely, then consider that tackled the obscure psychedlic folk of The Garden of Jane Delawnay and did so with applomb. It was a song from the debut album of cult folk rock band 'Trees,' cult as in unknown, quirky, interesting, and short-lived. My point is that Françoise could do weird and quirky and complicated and did so at the very London sessions at which the collaboration with Nick Drake had been planned.
I just wish it had happened. Nick, certainly, was desperate for recognition.
As for Françoise, I’m always glad to see one of the quiet ones ‘make it’ and endure, and long for the day when notions of ‘making it’ are consigned to the past in favour of people being allowed to become what they are, according to their own unique genius. Just a quiet girl with long hair on a stool? I’d suggest you look again and listen. And start with her most recent albums first and work backwards.
I'll end with a quirky tale. In doing some extra research to update my Nick Drake piece from 2019 I found that Fairport Convention guitarist Richard Thompson, (who played on sessions for both Nick and Françoise,) credits Françoise Hardy with teaching him how to peel an orange properly. He tells the tale in his memoires published last year. (Richard Thompson, Beeswing: Losing My Way and Finding My Voice, 1967-1975). I had told the same story of her doing the same for Nick Drake in my 2019 essay and wanted to find out more. I wonder if she made a habit of it.
Anyhow, my piece:
When Nick met Françoise.
As for selecting a favourite track, I have been known to listen to Françoise's entire back catalogue from first to last, one after the other. When I did it last year it took me two and a half days. She has a voice that never outstays its welcome. In fact, as soon as I had played her final album from 2018, I turned to her Italian and then German recordings. I think I like her voice more than any particular song.
But in search of the one favourite track, I narrowed the field down to one hundred:
(1962) Le Temps De l'Amour; (1963) Le Premier Bonheur Du Jour; (1964) Dans Le Monde Entier; Mon Amie La Rose; La Nuit Est Sur La Ville; (1965) Ce Petit Coeur; L'Amitie; Non Ce N'est Pas Un Reve; Tu Peux Bien; All Over The World; (1966); Il Est Des Choses; La Maison Où J'ai Grandi; Je Serai La Pour Toi; Comme; Peut Etre Que Je T'Aime; (1967) Ma Jeunesse Fout Le Camp; La Fin De L'été; Qui Peut Dire?; Voila; Au Fond Du Reve Dore; (1968) Comment Te Dire Adieu; L'anamour; Il N'y A Pas D'amour Heureux (Vers 2); La Mésange; Parlez-Moi De Lui; Je Ne Sais Pas Ce Que Je Veux; (1969) Avec Des Si; Au Fil Des Nuits Et Des Journees; (1970) Point; Fleur De Lune; Effeuille-Moi Le Coeur; Tu Ressembles À Tous Ceux; All Because Of You (or the German Wie Im Kreis; (1971) Viens; La Question; Meme Sous La Pluie; Chanson D´O; Le Martien; Oui Je Dis Adieu; Doigts; La Maison; Si Mi Caballero; Bati Mon Nid; Rêve; Ocean; (1972) Le Soir; Bruit De Fond; Cafard; Bowm Bowm Bowm; Et Si Je M'en Vais Avant Toi; (1973) Premiére Rencontre; Berceuse; L'attente; On Dirait; L'Habitude; Chanson Floue; Wenn Wilde Schwäne Fliehn; (1974) Et Voilà; Chanson Noire; Il Y A Eu Des Nuits; Bonjour, Bonsoir; Le Renard A L'anneau d'Or; (1977) Star; Chanson Sur Toi Et Nous; Je Ne Suis Que Moi; L'Impasse; (1978) Hallucinogene; Si Je Le Retrouve Un Jour; (1979) Chanson De La Sorcière; (1980) Seule Comme Une Pomme; Que Tu M'enterres; (1981) Villegiature; (1982) Mazurka; Ces Petits Riens; (1985) Chère Amie (Toutes Mes Excuses); (1988) Partir Quand Meme; (1989) Fais-Moi Une Place; (1996) Un Peu D'eau; Le Danger; Dix Heures En Ete; (2000) Clair-Obscur; La Saison Des Pluies; La Pleine Lune; La Vérité Des Choses; (2004) Tant De Belles Choses version 1; A l'Ombre De La Lune; La Folie Ordinaire; Un Air De Guitare; Cote Jardin, Cote Cour; (2006) Que Reste-t-il De Nos Amours?; My Beautiful Demon; La Valse Des Regrets (Valse N°15, Brahms); (2010) Noir Sur Blanc; La Pluie Sans Parapluie; (2012) Mal au cœur; Si vous n'avez rien à me dire; Normandia; Pourquoi vous?; (2018) Dors mon ange (Sleep); Un seul geste; Seras-tu là?; Un mal qui fait du bien.
It took me ages to cut that down to 100 (and I am sure there may be more, seeing as I am arithmetically challenged (can't count).
In truth, that list is a mix of best and favourites, with many of her best songs and my favourite songs being left out.
The following are the great, great tracks that one by one, in a painstaking, time-consuming, heart-breaking effort of selection, were removed:
J'aurais Voulu; On Se Quitte Toujours; Le Temps Des Souvenirs; Dans the Monde Entier; Autumn Rendezvous; Rendez Vous d'Automne; Mais Il Y A Des Soirs; J'ai le Coeur Vide Aujourd'hui (Empty Sunday); Le Crabe; Träume; The Garden of Jane Delawnay; Take My Hand for a While; Message Personnel; Branche Cassée; Laisse-Moi Réver; Je Suis De Trop Ici; Si Ça Fait Mal... Solo; Si Ça Fait Mal...Duo; (1995) La Comédie (with Blur); A Sa Merci; Regarde-Toi; Jeanne (with Air); Solitude Des Latitudes; Soir De Gala; Grand Hotel; My Beautiful Demon; L'Amour Fou; Piano-bar; Brumes; Personne d’Autre.
And if I am doing a list of favourites, I really would need to make room for quirky songs like Dame souris trotte and Les doigts dans la porte. Oh, and I love A Vannes. OK, I give up. I have other things to be doing. Things that are not as interesting, maybe, but are probably more essential. Possibly.
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