F. R. David wrote that song not because he found it difficult to express his emotions but because he found it difficult to express his emotions in a foreign language. The irony is that it was the former interpretation that stuck in people's minds. His girlfriend at the time was English-speaking, and he, of course, is French.
I don't want to detain you, and you can probably guess how entranced I am by your article. It's positively brilliant. I will return to it often, because there is so much in here.
In the 1980s I worked a lot as a tour director for American schoolkids. One tour, possibly 1983 or 1984, started in Paris, so I had travelled there the day before to prepare for picking up the group at Roissy on the next day, and therefore had time to kill.
I had a personal ritual for every time I was in Paris (which was three or four times a year): my first lunch was always taken standing at the counter of a bar (because it's cheaper than sitting down), and comprised "un sandwich mixte, des oeufs durs, et un demi, un". On this occasion I was staying near Rue de Maubeuge, and I had walked up through the fairly louche area of Square d'Anvers to a bar on the opposite corner, on Boulevard de Clichy. It was a warm, rainy, drizzly, steamy Saturday morning in summer. Paris is beautiful in the rain (and clichéd in sunshine).
The bar/tabac had a pinball machine, and I used to be pretty good, so I inserted my 5 franc coin and played for a while, whilst smoking Gauloises. And, as an accompaniment, I rolled a franc into the jukebox, and played something French to complete the scene. It was "Words" by F.R. David.
Those three things - the sandwich, the flipper and the song - cemented that moment into my mind. I can quote it like a monologue.
Take a look at the film embedded here. The subject is Judith Wolfe. She grew up in Vienna, where her hippie mother took her to the opera and theatre so much that Judith could no longer distinguish make-believe from reality.
So, how did she resolve this?
Well, when she was adult, she went to America to study philosophy. Now, go figure ...!
F. R. David wrote that song not because he found it difficult to express his emotions but because he found it difficult to express his emotions in a foreign language. The irony is that it was the former interpretation that stuck in people's minds. His girlfriend at the time was English-speaking, and he, of course, is French.
Didn’t know that. Great story! Did he write another song when she eventually dumped him?
I don't want to detain you, and you can probably guess how entranced I am by your article. It's positively brilliant. I will return to it often, because there is so much in here.
In the 1980s I worked a lot as a tour director for American schoolkids. One tour, possibly 1983 or 1984, started in Paris, so I had travelled there the day before to prepare for picking up the group at Roissy on the next day, and therefore had time to kill.
I had a personal ritual for every time I was in Paris (which was three or four times a year): my first lunch was always taken standing at the counter of a bar (because it's cheaper than sitting down), and comprised "un sandwich mixte, des oeufs durs, et un demi, un". On this occasion I was staying near Rue de Maubeuge, and I had walked up through the fairly louche area of Square d'Anvers to a bar on the opposite corner, on Boulevard de Clichy. It was a warm, rainy, drizzly, steamy Saturday morning in summer. Paris is beautiful in the rain (and clichéd in sunshine).
The bar/tabac had a pinball machine, and I used to be pretty good, so I inserted my 5 franc coin and played for a while, whilst smoking Gauloises. And, as an accompaniment, I rolled a franc into the jukebox, and played something French to complete the scene. It was "Words" by F.R. David.
Those three things - the sandwich, the flipper and the song - cemented that moment into my mind. I can quote it like a monologue.
I was about 23 and had my whole life ahead of me.
Lovely.
No Words for that. you don't understand.
I can't leave this.
Take a look at the film embedded here. The subject is Judith Wolfe. She grew up in Vienna, where her hippie mother took her to the opera and theatre so much that Judith could no longer distinguish make-believe from reality.
So, how did she resolve this?
Well, when she was adult, she went to America to study philosophy. Now, go figure ...!
https://endlesschain.substack.com/p/at-a-threshold