I keep coming across the mention of a pasha - first in the Uschi Glas quote, then in this track from Québéc yé-yé girl Dany Aubé, and then in this scopitone from Jean Constantin. I wonder if there was any sort of significant trend for all things Persian, or if they're just a handful of mentions as part of 60s pop culture's taste for the 'exotic'.
In 'La Fille du pacha', Dany sings that it's no fun being the daughter of a pacha and having lots of clothes, cars and fine silks, because people only love her for her money.
A little about Dany, translated from Rétro Jeunesse 60:
Dany Aubé (real name - Réjeanne Aubé) was born in Lasarre, Abatiti in 1947. While taking part in amateur singing contests, she was given the title 'Queen of The Quebecois, North-West'. Based in Montreal, she became famous in the spring of 1966 with the song 'Goodbye, au revoir, arrivederci'. During the same year, she stays at the top of the charts with 'Il m'appalait Goguette' ['They Call Me Goguette'] and 'Ma Casquette' ['My Cap']. She performed in the Musicorama tour of 1967, and worked the cabaret circuit until the mid-70s.
I wracked my brain trying to remember where I'd heard this before, then it finally hit me:
My last.fm friend Aaron wrote an excellent piece for mercurialsound.com on the early use of distorted guitar in Françoise Hardy's 'Je n'attends plus personne'. The site has been down for ages, but he's kindly given me permission to print it here in full.
Françoise's track is actually a cover of a hit by 60s Italian rock star Antonio Ciacci, who went by the name of Little Tony. This version is certainly lighter on the fuzz, but you can detect a single distorted note as the lead beat in each bar of the intro, which melds with the bassline to create what serves as a fairly heavy intro. However, it's still not as heavy a sound as you hear on Françoise's cover, nor the same application of distortion, so credit still goes to the makers of her track for being ahead of their time. But the original does stand out as having a heavier guitar sound than typical European pop of the time and combined with Little Tony's strong vocals, makes quite an impact. It makes me wonder whether this is what inspired the creators of 'Je n'attends...' to chunk up the guitar even more, to get a little of the more of the aggressive effect that Françoise's vocals can't convey.
Thanks to Berat for tipping me off about this fantastic Turkish cover of Marie Laforêt's 'Mon amour, mon ami'. Turkish to English online translators are useless, so I'm afraid I can't find out anything about Ms Yazar. But judging by her musical longevity and her extensive 60s filmography, she was well-loved as both a singer and an actress.
If I have this right (feel free to correct me!), the lyrics to this version are a warning to a flirtatious woman to stay away from her man. In the original, the slightly sinister melody tempers the sweetness of the sentiment ('my love, my friend, when I dream, I dream of you') with a dash of potentially worrying obsessiveness. Here, Gönül's coolly-delivered threat to the other woman works well with the music's ominous quality.
*Update* - OK, so this is why I probably shouldn't have trusted my interpretation of a couple of words in the chorus translated via an online Turkish dictionary and then have run with that. Berat has corrected me that the flirtatious woman in the song is the singer herself. So my comments above don't exactly apply, but my point about the tune suiting the theme still stands, as the sense of both detachment and warning I imagined are still present lyrically. But I'll substitute "cooly-delivered threat to the other woman" for "cooly-delivered assertion that love is not for a woman like her". Here's the translation as Berat provided it to me:
A guest post from Tag:
Sometimes I feel like someone's made a record with me in mind. Not in an angst-bitten way, analysing lyrics and convincing myself "it really speaks to me". I mean something that matches my own personal brand of perfection. A song I'd want to marry. Gothenburg's Sally Shapiro has made such a record. A record produced in the blissed-out Italian disco tradition, with a melody to match Abba's most bittersweet moments, delivered by a singer so possessed of wide-eyed lovesickness, she makes Annie sound like a veritable vixen. It's called "Anorak Christmas" which should make me wince with cloying indie associations - but it's just right. It could sound contrived, coquettish, but it simply sounds like a girl who's fallen rapturously in love at some midwinter discotheque, emerged into the snow and went straight home to put her feelings down, hesitantly but honestly.
My note: Sally so beautifully makes it her own, it's surprising to find out the song's actually a cover. Here's the original by twee synthpop artist and fellow Swede Nixon:
Rare footage of Georgie Fame performing on the West German music TV show, Beat! Beat! Beat! in 1967. (Update: replaced with better quality version from Youtube.)
I came across this great cover of the Georgie Fame classic 'Yeh Yeh' by Los Tres Sudamericanos, a 60s Paraguayan trio (two guys and one gal) who found success in Spain. I previously featured their version of 'The Girl From Ipanema'.
- Los Tres Sudamericanos - Yeh Yeh (1965)
- Georgie Fame - Yeh Yeh (1965)
Haven't felt up to blogging, and I'm not sure when/if I'll return to it. But I'll leave you with my favourite type of post, a double-up:
Pop Junkie on Reviewing The Situation.
out of print
- February 19 2017
- February 2 2017
- December 24 2016
- December 23 2016
- November 25 2016
- November 19 2016
- November 11 2016
- October 29 2016
- October 7 2016
- September 1 2016
- August 29 2016
- July 30 2016
- July 19 2016
- July 14 2016
- Thu, Dec 15 2005
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