Who knows what would have happened in France if New Yorker Valli Timbert hadn’t met filmmaker Philippe Bourgoin, at some Chelsea Hotel, in the late ‘70s? Philippe, not pictured on the cover of Chagrin D’Amour’s self-titled debut, was the French artiste who had fallen in love with rap early on in 1979. Then, via The Clash’s smashing early take on it in Sandanista, realized that rock n’ roll wasn’t necessarily the best way to agitate people. Now, in NYC, he wanted to find someone who could export that to France.
Somehow, Philippe Bourgoin, had convinced chanson singer Gérard Presgurvic to record a demo version of a “rap” song he had written, “Chacun Fait (C’Qui Lui Plait)”. Unfortunately, due to label constraints Gerard wasn’t allowed to release this song as a single. By then, he had married Valli and convinced her to move with him to Paris and pursue an acting career. However, before she could do so she tried to convince her to follow him along this other, crazy path. Rather than give up his dream of a French rap single, Philippe kept looking for another male vocalist to take the reins.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6ANUrIayUU
Hoping to stretch the concept of “Chacun Fait (C’Qui Lui Plait)” across a whole album, they enlisted sometimes theater actor Gregory Ken to give it a go as a singer for this duo they’d dub Chagrin D’Amour. As Chagrin D’Amour they hoped to tie this world of abrasive hip-hop with the lascivious multi-level moods of Serge Gainsbourg’s music that Valli loved. Originally, Gregory had the only role, singing only about night trips through varied levels in debauchery. To subvert the Gainsbourgian world, Valli was brought in as the “Lolita”-esque character now speaking in terms of entitlement and empowerment. A straight foil to the carnival male lead. In the rare world of patriarchal hip-hop pioneers, theirs was one of the first where both parts were acting as equals, in the material.
With Phillippe as the main songwriter, they enlisted other under-the-radar conspirators to bring in their own, quiet, unheralded magic. If the names of Didier Makaga, Slim Pezin, and Jean-Pierre Sabar don’t immediately bring much to mind, it’s because they had and would help others transition chanson’s evolution into the world of boogie and electro-funk. The big name, Alain Chamfort, contributed spirited punk vigor (something rarely heard on his own work). Then Gregory Ken, feeling especially inspired, goes schizoid world beat and rounds through various tracks touching on the music of far flung locales French citizens had laid their heads in. “Eden-Nouba” reminds us immediately of the zouk rhythms found in the music of the French-speaking Caribbean nations, especially.
Diving deep into the album, before the obvious highlight, we hear continuing explorations of dub-style Gainsbourgian chanson on songs like “Sainte-Nitouge” with the album building like a spirited DJ mix meant for early ghetto blaster systems. At just a minute long, the wicked electro of “Blonde Platine” earns its rightful place segueing into the “Rapture” from another mother, “Chacun Fait (C’Qui Lui Plait)”. “Chacun Fait (C’Qui Lui Plait)” would be the hit that found the duo miming their way through countless French TV shows, earning its place as the first French “rap” song by capping it off as #1 hit. The wiggy no wave mutant funk of “Bonjour (v’la les nouvelles)” then takes you through a very Gallic swing of hard-nosed groove that seamlessly navigates through some delightfully zany, doe-eyed romanticism. Gregory Ken’s smoky voice then winds down the A-side through some heartfelt balladry signaling a shift to more worldly exploits.
Although, the duo of Gregory Ken and Valli would only be able to record another album after their whirlwind rise to fame, this was the album that rightfully still cements this alternate, Gallic world that could shape hip-hop’s influence in the a different light. One can listen to all the b-side, quick cuts of sub two-minute long songs, and see what they were going after. They weren’t after hits as atmosphere. “Rêve n°9” only takes nineteen seconds to predict bits of indie rock. And the album ends with a view of Paradise, with “Au Paradis” saying in two minutes how much longer we’d love to hear those Mali or Ivory Coast-influenced Afro-Pop hooks stick around for a while more. That’s for some other day, in some other paradise, right?
2 responses
As a french speaking person I am especially grateful for this post. C’est de la balle, merci!
Merci!