They say we should be getting used to this; loss – people who made a difference – people we swore up and down would be with us forever – people who did not and never will age, even if they do gracefully. I’m sorry – count me out. The death earlier today of Francoise Hardy left me speechless and heartbroken.
Music is one of the few art forms that transcends space and time and the mere hearing of a few notes or a phrase sends us back and fills our heads with feelings and sensations of that precise moment when everything made perfect sense – music does that with no effort. It always will.
Francoise Hardy didn’t have an overpowering voice – wasn’t a “belter” or someone who could tear subtlety out of a song by its roots. Hers was a voice of true spirit – that ability to convey a vast landscape of emotions and feelings in the most subtle of ways – and in doing so, bring someone to tears or evoke a sigh or affirm that, yes, life has a lot of possibilities and living it is essential if we are going to be here; good times and bad.
When I first heard the news today of her passing, my first thought was to look through my archive for a concert, any concert where she connected with the audience and took them with her. Sadly, technology in the early 60s wasn’t as good as it could be, and the examples available decidedly did not do her justice. The sound, for the most part, was dim and remote and nothing which would do her justice.
But a video would – a video would convey, at least in some small part, the magic she brought to her music – the connection she made with her audience – the timeless quality of her presence – the stunning beauty she radiated. I admit I was completely in love with Francoise Hardy, along with countless millions of other guys, and perhaps that’s what got me hooked when I was a teenager. Didn’t understand a word she was saying – it was the best possible excuse to learn French – or just to gaze at the mouth the words were forming – and those eyes . . .those eyes.
Ma jeunesse fout le camp is the title of her seventh album and also the title of this song – the album (and I suspect this video performance) came out in 1967. In some small way it gives an idea of who Francoise Hardy was and why she had the effect on so many people, guys like me included.
I don’t usually run videos, but this time it’s imperative – I can’t think of a more fitting tribute and a wonderful excuse to watch and wander off to that place where everything made perfect sense.
