Les Flamandes 4.0 / 5 I don't have much to say about it, it doesn't rate as high as the highlights no this album, but it is unique, original and clever, in my opinion.
I don't have any Jacques Brel recordings but I do have Florent Pagny's Pagny Chante Brel album. I was familiar with many of Brel's songs and always enjoyed them despite my minimal French. Perhaps it's time to add some Brel to my collection. Steven
Haven't heard the album but looking at the tracklisting, it's a good selection of songs. And "Vesoul" with the original accordionist!
Our average mark for "Les Flamandes" was 4.57 Today's song is Isabelle Words by Jacques Brel Music by Jacques Brel and François Rauber Arranged by François Rauber Recorded on the 15th of September, 1959 at Studio Blanqui, Paris with François Rauber and his orchestra "Isabelle" was written for Brel's third daughter, born in 1958. His two elder daughters, Chantal and France, who never had specific songs written for them, were not amused. Co-writer François Rauber was Isabelle's godfather. "Isabelle" was the b-side of the "La valse à mille temps" single. No live recordings, re-recordings, TV appearances, foreign versions or covers for this one: a veritable holiday for me.
Lyrics/paroles Quand Isabelle dort, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle dort au berceau de sa joie Sais-tu qu'elle vole, la coquine Les oasis du Sahara Les poissons dorés de la Chine Et les jardins de l'Alhambra? Quand Isabelle dort, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle dort au berceau de sa joie Elle vole les rêves et les jeux D'une rose et d'un bouton d'or Pour se les poser dans les yeux Belle Isabelle quand elle dort Quand Isabelle rit, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle rit au berceau de sa joie Sais-tu qu'elle vole, la cruelle Le rire des cascades sauvages? Qui remplacent les escarcelles Des rois qui n'ont pas d'équipages Quand Isabelle rit, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle rit au berceau de sa joie Elle vole les fenêtres de l'heure Qui s'ouvrent sur le paradis Pour se les poser dans le cœur Belle Isabelle, quand elle rit Quand Isabelle chante, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle chante, au berceau de sa joie Sais-tu qu'elle vole la dentelle Tissée au cœur de rossignol Et les baisers que les ombrelles Empêchent de prendre leur vol? Quand Isabelle chante, plus rien ne bouge Quand Isabelle chante au berceau de sa joie Elle vole le velours et la soie Qu'offre la guitare à l'infante Pour se les poser dans la voix Belle Isabelle, quand elle chante English paraphrase with help from spondres When Isabelle sleeps, everything is still When Isabelle sleeps in the cradle of her joy Do you know, the naughty girl Is stealing the oases from the Sahara The goldfish from China And the gardens from the Alhambra? When Isabelle sleeps, everything is still When Isabelle sleeps in the cradle of her joy She is stealing the dreams and the games Or a rose and a buttercup Just to put them in her eyes Beautiful Isabelle, when she sleeps When Isabelle laughs, everything is still When Isabelle laughs in the cradle of her joy Do you know, the cruel girl Is stealing the laughter of wild waterfalls Which replace the purses Of kings without courtiers? When Isabelle laughs, everything is still When Isabelle laughs in the cradle of her joy She is stealing the windows of the hour Which open out onto Paradise To put them into her heart Beautiful Isabelle, when she laughs When Isabelle sings, everything is still When Isabelle sings in the cradle of her joy Do you know she is stealing the lace Woven from the heart of a nightingale? And the kisses that parasols Stop from taking flight When Isabelle sings, everything is still When Isabelle sings in the cradle of her joy She is stealing the velvet and silk That the guitar gives to the Infanta To put them into her voice Beautiful Isabelle, when she sings
Isabelle Those with an eye on the credits may have noticed by now that when a song is especially lush, Rauber is usually credited as having a hand in the composition. And here he is again. I'm not always in the mood for it, but when I am I think it's very good. 4/5
Isabelle Lush and loving, with oodles of Edward Learesque surreal imagery. Taken literally, one might think that Brel had fathered the anti-christ! This young lady certainly has a vivid imagination. 4.25/5
Hmmm. I'm afraid I can't appreciate this at all except intellectually, as a lyric, perhaps. Just too over the top for me, and too, what's teh word, show-bizzy? I do think it's cool that he wrote such a beautiful word for his daughter, though. 2.3/5
Many, many artists have written songs about their children (Beatles-Hey Jude, David Bowie-Kooks, Bob Dylan-Forever Young, Led Zeppelin-All My Love, Eric Clapton-Tears in Heaven), but this song reminded me somehow of Wired To The Moon by Chris Rea. His first daughter Josephine was born in September 1983. That same month his mother died. Wired to the Moon is a song about both: a lullaby to his daughter describing a wish from his mother. He later wrote another song about his daughter, it's title escapes me at the moment. On this album we also have life/birth and death connected, with Isabelle followed by La Mort. Odd track listing again, imo. I would have switched La Mort and La Tendresse for example.
Isabelle I must be in a charitable mood today across the song threads I'm participating in, because I think this is absolutely lovely. It has the feel of a schmaltzy movie aria, but I lap this stuff up when it sounds this good. Brel sings with quiet conviction but never goes over the top with excess sentiment. Terrific stuff. 5/5
Isabelle Too many intrusive strings on this one for me. But the singing is fine and the poetic images hold your attention. 3/5 I don't think the king is without courtiers but probably without carriages.
Interesting point: Larousse gives this translation for équipage: (archaïque) [escorte - d'un prince] retinue, suite https://www.larousse.fr/dictionnaires/francais-anglais/équipage/30602 But it has multiple meanings.
Our average score for "Isabelle" was 3.68 (edited to factor in Andreas's score) Today's song is La mort ("Death") Words and music by Jacques Brel Arranged by François Rauber Recorded on the 14th of September, 1959 at Studio Blanqui, Paris with François Rauber and his orchestra. Not to be confused with the song of the same name in the L'homme de la Mancha soundtrack.
Isabelle 3.5 / 5 A rather lightweight song, not boring, but not particularly engaging. I like the lush arrangement and the playful lyrics, but there is not much of a tune.
Lyrics/paroles La mort m´attend comme une vieille fille Au rendez-vous de la faucille Pour mieux cueillir le temps qui passe La mort m´attend comme une princesse A l´enterrement de ma jeunesse Pour mieux pleurer le temps qui passe La mort m´attend comme Carabosse A l´incendie de nos noces Pour mieux rire du temps qui passe Mais qu´y a-t-il derrière la porte Et qui m´attend déjà? Ange ou démon qu´importe Au devant de la porte il y a toi La mort attend sous l´oreiller Que j´oublie de me réveiller Pour mieux glacer le temps qui passe La mort attend que mes amis Me viennent voir en pleine nuit Pour mieux se dire que le temps passe La mort m´attend dans tes mains claires Qui devront fermer mes paupières Pour mieux quitter le temps qui passe La mort m´attend aux dernières feuilles De l´arbre qui f´ra mon cercueil Pour mieux clouer le temps qui passe La mort m´attend dans les lilas Qu´un fossoyeur lancera sur moi Pour mieux fleurir le temps qui passe La mort m´attend dans un grand lit Tendu aux toiles de l´oubli Pour mieux fermer le temps qui passe English paraphrase (thanks to spondres) Death waits for me like an old maid At our appointment with a scythe The better to reap the time that passes Death waits for me like a princess At the funeral of my youth The better to mourn the passage of time Death waits for me like Carabosse* At the furnace of our wedding day The better to laugh at the time that passes But what is behind the door And who is already waiting for me Angel or Devil, what does it matter In front of the door there is you Death waits under the pillow For me to forget to wake up The better to freeze the time that passes Death waits so that my friends Come to see me in the middle of the night The better to tell each other that the time is passing Death waits for me in your clear hands Which will have to close my eyes The better to leave the time that passes Death waits for me at the last leaves Of the tree which will be my coffin The better to nail down the time that passes Death waits for me in the lilies That a gravedigger will throw on me The better to adorn the time that passes Death waits for me in a great bed Stretched on the canvases of oblivion The better to close the time that passes *The wicked fairy in Madame d'Aulnoy's classic version of "Sleeping Beauty".
"La mort" was adapted into English as "My Death" by Eric Blau and Mort Shuman for the Show Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris:
La mort I suppose this isn't the first Brel song about death ("Seul"?) but it's maybe the first to make a big deal about being about death. It's certainly not the last: so many of his greatest songs are on this theme. The opening clarion call has an archaic sounding interval that I like. We are transported back in time, to the medieval or renaissance period perhaps when "The Dance of Death" with Death personified was a regular genre? Or to the Black Death, setting of Bergman's Seventh Seal? The martial feel suggests a whole battalion of skeletons (as in Bruegel's Triumph of Death painting) and ties the song in with "Seul" and "La colombe". I often wondered if Bowie ever heard the original before he covered it. Each version seems to get a little further from the original arrangement, like a game of Chinese whispers. I suppose the consensus is that Bowie owns this song, but I've liked his version much. I find it too slow and ponderous. I do like Walker's a lot though. 4/5
I'm used to the musical and Scott Walker's version. I like Scott's version best. Brel's is surprisingly jaunty...and too...staccato. I'm not sure if I like this arrangrmeent too much, to be honest. 3.1/5
Late correction from spondres: "tendu refers to the bed not death as masculine - covered with or on which are stretched the canvasses" so the end of the last verse should be: "Death waits for me in a great bed On which are stretched the canvases of oblivion" or "Death waits for me in a great bed Covered with the canvases of oblivion"
