The Concertgebouw’s small hall was sold out to the last seat on Tuesday 27th August 2024. Exactly at 8 pm the lights went out and a radiant Philippe Elan entered the stage. The ‘chanteur’, born in the deep south of France, was expertly accompanied in his versatile repertoire by pianist Grégor Bak. After many performances and their joint album Chansons, the two are now very much in tune with each other. Bak masters any genre, from the delicate ‘Les moulins de mon coeur’ (Michel Legrand), the jazzy ‘La mer’ (Charles Trenet) to the catchy blues of ‘Il était mon amis’. Elan and Bak sang this traditional (‘He was a friend of mine’) in a French translation in two voices and it became one of the highlights of the programme.
As the evening progressed, Elan moved looser and with more flamboyance across the stage. The audience sang along eagerly with evergreens like ‘Pour un flirt’ (Michel Delpech, Roland Vincent) and ‘Il est cinq heures, Paris s’éveille’ (Jacques Dutronc). The duo gave intense performances of Jacques Brél’s ‘Ne me quitte pas’ and ‘Voir un ami pleurer’. With his magisterial voice, Elan reached the back rows with ease, but in moments of stillness, the poignancy struck unrelentingly. In that context, the song ‘Je l’espère’, written by Grégor Bak in response to the untimely death of his brother, should certainly be mentioned. Bak translated his Dutch lyrics into French and Philippe Elan added the finishing touches.
After the closing chanson ‘Hymne à l’amour’ (Edith Piaf), Bak and Elan played the exuberant encore ‘Amsterdam’ (Brél). As if that were not enough, as icing on the cake, the audience got the ‘Non je ne regrette rien’ (Charles Dumont, Michel Vaucaire) immortalised by Piaf. Amsterdam is blessed to have such a great French talent within its city limits.
Those who missed the concert can listen to the live-recorded album Chansons. Philippe Elan was willing to talk some more about the rich history of French chanson and the cultural differences between France and the Netherlands. How did your collaboration with pianist Gregor Bak begin?
I knew Gregor as a creator of Dutch television programmes. During the Covid-period, he called me and said: ‘My mother-in-law is terminally ill. She really likes to hear you sing before she dies.’ I did not hesitate for a moment and visited the hospice where, accompanied by Gregor, I sang some French chansons for her. It was a moving afternoon and we talked about Brel afterwards. A few days later, she passed away. The family again invited me to sing at her public farewell. Gregor accompanied me surprisingly well, his touch is sophisticated and his playing is versatile. I was keen to continue our collaboration.
How did the selection of songs come about?
Last summer, Gregor and I gave our first two chanson recitals at the Concertgebouw. We chose to play from the canon of the French chanson repertoire. The songs we were most happy with ended up on Chansons. My previous cd was a neo-pop album. I didn’t want to repeat myself, hence this return to the source.
No fewer than four songs were written by Jacques Brel.
I love to sing Brel. He created so many beautiful songs. The opening song is about people who have been together for a long time. Love conquers all mountains not climbed: you grow old together because love is at the base. Despite everything, I still love you. The beautiful melody fits the lyrics perfectly. We close the album with Brel’s exuberant sailor song ‘Amsterdam’, very suitable as an encore at the Concertgebouw.
Nice that you pay tribute to Jules de Corte (1924 – 1996) by performing a French translation of his song ‘Ik zou wel willen weten’ (I would like to know)!
In 1996, I made the album Tricolore with Cor Bakker and his combo. Cor, a great lover of Jules de Corte’s music, came up with this idea. We asked Ernst van Altena, who used to translate French songs into Dutch, to make a French adaptation of this song. In ‘Dites-moi pourquoi’, we hear Jules de Corte’s existential questions echoed in a French chanson: a poetic text captured in brilliant Bach-like De Corte harmonies. Jules de Corte still has a loyal following in the Netherlands. Every time I mention his name, a sigh of recognition goes through the hall.
‘Mon enfance’ by Barbara has dramatic origins. In this song, the chanteuse returns to the place of her unhappy childhood scarred by war and sexual abuse. How do you look back on your own childhood years?
I had a comfortable childhood with my family and yet I can relate well to this song. I grew up in the south-western French town of Lectoure. From the age of fourteen, however, I felt I was ‘different’. Everyone knew our family, social control was high. I adapted without knowing who I really was. When I went to study in Toulouse, I met Gijs. Only when I lived in the Netherlands, I was already 26, did I dare to write in a letter to my parents that Gijs was not just ‘a friend’ but ‘my friend’. When I return to my hometown now, it is with a mixture of joy and pain; life is very different now from when I was young. Barbara has beautifully incorporated these conflicting feelings into the melody and modulations.
Not many chansons have been written about homosexual relationships.
Charles Aznavour wrote ‘Comme ils disent’ in 1972, about a man living with his mother who performs in a transvestite show at night. Aznavour was straight, but he could not bear to see his gay friends being laughed at. It was very brave of him to stand up for people who weren’t treated as equals. In the song, the protagonist says: ‘I might be like this, but I have my dignity.’ With this chanson, Aznavour really made a statement in 1970s French society.
When Charles Aznavour died, he was given a state funeral. President Macron spoke the impressive words: ‘His lyrics were a balm for the soul. Aznavour made our lives sweeter and our tears less bitter.’ Such a thing would never happen in the Netherlands.
Aznavour was an institution in France. Everyone has memories of his songs, which ring out at all the important moments in life.
In French schools, children are taught about chansons.
Chansons deal with the big questions of life and the language of many songs has a literary quality. Brel, Ferrat and Aznavour are part of the school curriculum. In my school days I had to read 50 books by Victor Hugo, Sartre, Camus and others for my French oral exam. To my relief, the examiner asked me questions about Jean Ferrat’s ‘La montagne’.
Gregor Bak and you also wrote two songs.
Gregor wrote ‘Je l’espère’, about the hope of meeting again a dear one who has died. I wrote a translation of ‘He was a friend of mine’, a traditional that I heard in the film Brokeback Mountain: ‘Il était mon ami’. The lyrics describe the feeling of helplessness that can overwhelm you when you try in vain to help a friend.
You sing and play ‘La mer’ very jazzy.
Charles Trenet is considered the father of French chanson. This is one of his best-known songs. Before Trenet was famous, he made a long journey across America. He was inspired by American jazz. When he returned to France, he incorporated elements of this music into his chansons. They are lovely to sing and Gregor plays them virtuosically.
Brel’s lyrics ‘Ne me quitte pas’, again show a cultural difference. A Dutchman would never choose passionate phrases like ‘let me become the shadow of your shadow, the shadow of your hand, the shadow of your dog.’
That’s the Latin temperament you also encounter in fado music and in Neapolitan songs. If I am enthusiastic about something, I tend to say it three times. When I had just arrived in the Netherlands, people would sometimes say to me, ‘Philippe, you’ve already told me that!’
What did you think of the Dutch in those early days?
I really liked the lack of formality and hierarchy in the Netherlands. Here, someone can be in charge without being authoritarian and that was a relief. I do sometimes have some trouble with the directness of the Dutch. I know someone with a senior position at Air France and someone else with a similar job at KLM. They confirm to me that the problems between these two airlines are not so much to do with language but with cultural differences. C’est le ton qui fait la musique! It’s the tone that makes the music!
Chansons
Philippe Elan & Gregor Bak – Integral
