10 mai 2018 - French Icon F. Hardy on the Music of Her Life(Pitchfork)

Françoise Hardy in 1963, at age 19. Photo by Martine Lebon/INA via Getty Images

by Quinn Moreland
Assistant Editor

When a 17-year-old Françoise Hardy signed her first record deal in 1961, she unwittingly helped kick off a new musical movement. Alongside contemporaries like France Gall, Sylvie Vartan, and Sheila, Hardy quickly became a star of yé-yé, the burgeoning French pop style that mixed sentimentality with overt sexuality. But the notoriously shy Parisian’s songs were also haunted by insecurity, loneliness, and a fear of temporality. This mystique, paired with Hardy’s undeniable beauty, made her a muse to men like Bob Dylan, who famously immortalized her in prose on the back cover of 1964’s Another Side of Bob Dylan. But reducing Hardy to a mere muse erases her extensive impact on music, fashion, and culture at large. “More than a singer, she’s becoming an universal myth with whom thousands of young girls dream of identifying,” claimed one French publication in 1967.



As the ’60s came to a close and yé-yé faded away, Hardy began exploring new styles like bossa nova, most remarkably on her beloved 1971 album La question. Since then, she continued to release a steady string of albums, and in the mid ’90s, Hardy made two high-profile guest appearances on songs by Blur and Malcolm McLaren. And though her own acting career ended in the early ’80s, Hardy’s music has been championed in subsequent films like Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Dreamers and Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom. Now 74, the singer has placed her own life under a microscope in the form of a new memoir, The Despair of Monkeys and Other Trifles, and her 24th studio album, Personne d’autre, an intimate reflection on mortality, memory, and romance.

On the phone from France, Hardy discusses her personal soundtrack through the years, the songs that have moved her beyond words. It’s a sentiment familiar to Hardy’s fans, especially non-French-speaking ones, who may not understand every lyric but know what she’s singing about anyway.



https://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/french-icon-francoise-hardy-on-the-music-of-her-life/

Photo by Universal History Archive/Getty Images

Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No. 7

This was the only record my mother had, and it was given to her by the only lover I have known she had. I used to listen to this music while reading fairy tales and feeling strange and happy. When music is beautiful, it can take you to a mysterious dimension, even when you’re 5 years old.

Gilbert Bécaud: “Je t’appartiens”

We had a small radio in the Paris flat I was living in with my mother and my sister that I would listen to very often. When I heard this song by Gilbert Bécaud, the melody had a very moving effect on me, and I bought the score because I wanted to read the lyrics. Some years later, the Everly Brothers, whose song “So Sad” has influenced me a lot, recorded this song in English as “Let It Be Me.” I covered it later because I had a British publisher who wanted me to record an LP with very famous songs in English [1968’s En Anglais], but I’m not too fond of my version. I prefer the Everly Brothers one.

The Shadows: “Sleepwalk”

Two years ago, my son Thomas had a concert in Paris, and he played “Sleepwalk,” and I was so amazed. I said to my friends who were with me, “I have known this for a very, very long time. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life, but I don’t remember what it is.” When I saw Thomas after the show, he told me the name of the American artists [Santo & Johnny] who created this track. I said, “No, it’s not that. I don’t know them. I’m sure I know very well this music.” He said, “Yes, because you know the Shadows’ version.” The Shadows were a very important influence for all the young French singers in the ’60s, including Johnny Hallyday, Eddy Mitchell, and my husband [Jacques Dutronc], who started as a guitar player.

Bob Dylan: “Just Like a Woman”

Dylan has composed and recorded a lot of marvelous songs, but this one is really moving. When he played his songs for me [in a hotel room in 1966] he seemed very shy, and I was very shy too, so we didn’t say anything to each other. At the time, my English was worse than it is today, so I didn’t really understand the words for “Just Like a Woman.” I only understood, “You make love just like a woman/Then you ache just like a woman/But you break just like a little girl,” which was moving to me, very sentimental. He was impressed with me, but not by the singer; by the girl, I think. He had a kind of romantic fixation on a photo of me, but I didn’t take it too seriously at that time. Recently, I got two drafts of letters written by him for me, and I finally realized that he was very serious about this fixation when he was very young. It moved me deeply when I read those letters.


A 22-year-old Hardy in 1966. Photo by Jean Adda/INA via Getty Images.

Elvis Presley: “Where Do You Come From”

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.

Back in the ’60s, when he wasn’t performing, I always said, “The day Elvis comes back to the stage, I will go to see his show.” When it happened, at the beginning of the ’70s, I made the trip to Las Vegas. I was not disappointed at all. I was amazed.

Véronique Sanson: “Bahia”

Véronique Sanson had her first record in 1972, and around the same time, Serge Gainsbourg had an LP called Histoire de Melody Nelson. Both were masterpieces. Véronique was very creative and inventive in the way she was playing the piano, the way she sang, and the songs themselves. Everything was new at that time. She symbolized a big change in the style. She had recorded her first LP with [songwriter] Michel Berger, and they made music that had never been heard before in France, very personal and new at the same time. At the time, I felt very outdated. But soon after, I was lucky enough to meet Michel Berger and work with him. It was important in my career, because at that time I had made some LPs I was very proud of—and still am—but it was when I worked with Michel Berger that I once again had popular success.

Barbra Streisand: “The Love Inside”

This is one of the greatest songs I’ve ever heard. Of course, Barbra Streisand is always perfect, but it’s the only song sung by her that I have listened to so often. I don’t understand all the words, but the melody is absolutely extraordinary.

Jean-Jacques Goldman: “Puisque tu pars”

Jean-Jacques Goldman is a great composer and writer, and “Puisque tu pars” is the kind of song that makes you cry. The lyrics can only have been written by an artist who knows what real love is; it’s quite rare for people to know what real love is. The song is about giving somebody you love his freedom, because this somebody thinks he can have happiness with somebody else—to wish that he finds what he’s looking for, because you cannot love him more than you do. Maybe this person you love so much can find somebody who loves him not more, because that’s impossible, but better. To say that to somebody you love is extraordinary.


Hardy in 1984, age 40. Photo by Patrick Aventurier/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images.

Etienne Daho: “Heures hindoues”

I have known Etienne Daho, who is a very famous singer in France, since he started singing. In the late ’80s, he was visiting me in the studio where I was recording a new album, and he wanted me to listen to a song he was going to record. When I heard “Heures hindoues,” I told him, “Etienne, it’s what I’ve always dreamed of recording.” He’s such a nice and generous person. He told me, “I’ll give it to you if you want.” But it was impossible, because I was the end of my work with the new album. But even if it had been possible, I would have never accepted such a gift. It’s impossible to accept a gift like that.

David Bowie: “I’m Deranged”

I’ve always been fascinated by David Bowie, but I’m not what you call a fan, because fans have all the records and know everything. I’m not like that. But his album Outside impressed me most. There are other good tunes on this album, but I prefer “I’m Deranged.” When you don't speak English well like me, it doesn’t matter so much not to understand the lyrics. Of course, it can bring something more, but it’s more about the whole musical atmosphere, the production by Brian Eno, and also the melody, which are all tremendous. Outside is not as famous as it should be. I was on a show with David Bowie about 15 years ago, and I told him that Outside was my favorite album by him, and he was stunned. He couldn’t believe it. I think he was quite happy to hear that.

Gabriel Yared: “Rupert Bear”

I was lucky enough to meet [composer] Gabriel Yared at the end of the ’70s, and we made five albums together. He’s a genius in music, and this is one of his most beautiful compositions. He got the Oscar in 1997 for this music for The English Patient. That’s why I wanted to listen to it once more.

Françoise Hardy: “Tant de belles choses”

“Tant de belles choses” means “so many beautiful things.” It’s a very special song for me, because I had the diagnosis of lymphoma at the beginning of January [2004], and my birthday is on the 17th of January. We had dinner, and suddenly my son went away, and it took time for him to come back. A friend of his told me, “He doesn’t want you to see him cry.” I was so upset.

The day after, I wrote lyrics to this tune to give to my son a positive idea of death. Also, this whole album is a very good souvenir, because at the time my son was only a guitarist, and my recording company wanted him to produce some songs on this record. I was a little worried, because it’s a special work to produce songs. But he did very well, it was strange and lovely to work with him.

Thomas Dutronc: “Comme un manouche sans guitare”

When my son Thomas was a little boy, I wanted him to study guitar or piano, but he refused! He was very good at school, especially in mathematics, and his father and I have never been good for that. But then Thomas discovered Django Reinhardt when he was 17, and he started to learn and play guitar. He would play everywhere, and he went to see the most famous guitarist in jazz Manouche music, Bireli Lagrene, who then took him on tour around the world. A few years after that, he signed a contract with a recording company, and was supposed to record an instrumental album. But he knew that instrumental albums don’t work very well, so he wanted to invite some singers to play some tunes he would compose himself. One of the singers told him, “Your voice is OK—why don’t you sing yourself?” So then he made a whole album with instrumental music and also some original songs he had written and composed. It’s for this song that he got a Victoire de la Music award [the French equivalent of a Grammy].

Sia: “Chandelier”

In 2014, I was in a very bad physical state, so it was very difficult for me to find a song that I listened to very often. But I loved “Chandelier” at first listen, all of a sudden, all at once. I had seen her perform on a TV show called “Taratata” and she was singing very beautiful ballads. I was amazed by her voice, the songs, and also by her face. She has a very strange face, and very strange teeth. I thought it was very courageous of her to sing songs with this huge tooth. Even if you were not interested in her music, it was so extraordinary that a woman was appearing on a big TV show with this tooth like this. A dentist can fix that kind of imperfection easily, but I was impressed because she had not done that.

https://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/french-icon-francoise-hardy-on-the-music-of-her-life/