REISSUES
Before Melody Nelson: how Gainsbourg rose from unheralded chansonnier to the top of the Pope’s black list without any real hits. By David Hutcheon.
Serge Gainsbourg, The Band, the ‘other’ Nirvana and more.
“Foolishly, Gainsbourg ripped off the Nigerian drummer Babatunde Olatunji. He didn’t record for four years.”
Serge Gainsbourg ★★★★ Intégrale Des Enregistrements Studio, Volume 1: 1958-1970 WRASSE/MERCURY. LP
ASUCCESSFUL songwriter, a confidant of Juliette Gréco and Jacques Brel, newly remarried: in 1964, Serge Gainsbourg, 36, should have been feeling unbeatable. In January, he had released his fifth album, Gainsbourg Confidentiel, his first 12-track, 12-incher, described by Sylvie Simmons in her biography, A Fistful Of Gitanes, as “spare, sophisticated jazz with a rock-swing element”. Yet it was distinctly out of step with the times: Chez Les Yé-Yé and Le Temps Des Yoyos laid into the teen stars of the day whose “imbecilic” ditties were threatening his career. Gainsbourg
Confidentiel sold 1,500 copies. Vindication of sorts. It’s always startling to realise how badly some now-revered records did on release – Dusty In
Memphis, Pet Sounds, River Deep, Mountain High… even discounting those that were never intended to ship platinum, the list is considerable – but Gainsbourg made a habit of failing to an extraordinary degree. Between his first album, Du Chant À La Une! (Number 137 in 1958) and Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg (Number 4 in 1969), none of his albums charted. Perhaps he was a singles artist, you say? Think again: his first French “hit”, Requiem Pour Un Con, got to Number 49 in 1968. His songs weren’t the issue – Poupée De Cire, Poupée De Son won the Eurovision Song Contest for France Gall in 1965 – but as a recording artist, Gainsbourg couldn’t get arrested.
As a result, his LPs sank without trace or repress. An original Confidentiel will set you back approximately £250; quadruple that if you fancy a 1962 pressing of No 4. Bizarrely, while Gainsbourg’s reputation grew through the 1970s and into the 1980s, much of his back catalogue was out of print until around 1984 (for cassettes) and 1994 (for CDs). Crucially, when they were reissued, the legend “Haute fidélité monorale” had been replaced on label and sleeve by “Hifi-stéréo”, and hearing what the artist originally intended has been an expensive indulgence for more than half a century.
Collecting his first nine albums (195870) plus an LP of singles and selected soundtrack cuts, this weighty set comes with those markers of 21st-century indulgence: half-speed remastering at Abbey Road with engineer Miles Showell’s name stamped into each run-out groove. The 10-inch albums have been plumped up to 12-inch with the addition of rarities such as the Romantique 60 EP. They sound, unsurprisingly, fabulous, Gainsbourg as you ought to hear him – yet few did or have, so the question remains: was he any good in the initial phases of his career?
In February 1958, Gainsbourg had recorded his first demos, just him and piano. For his debut, Alain Goraguer was brought in, his orchestra adding flute, bass, drums, giving flavour, but not always in ways that were harmonious with lyrics about a Métro ticket inspector dreaming of stamping holes in their own head (Le Poinçonneur Des Lilas). No 2 is Serge Goes Mambo, with a hint of Seven Brides For Seven Brothers. On the plus side, the sleeve is wonderful: cigarette in Gainsbourg’s right hand, a bouquet of red roses and a revolver on the table in front of him.
L’Étonnant Serge Gainsbourg (The Astonishing…)
is one of those albums you buy after hearing the opening track (La Chanson De Prévert) but grow increasingly disappointed by as you listen to the rest. Fortunately, in 1962, inspiration hit: Intoxicated Man, Black Trombone, Requiem Pour Un Twister …No 4 is essential. The hiccup of
Confidentiel’s calamitous sales, aside, it’s another great album, its sparse instrumentation hinting at Gainsbourg’s increasing confidence, a belief he had now discovered his voice.
Naturally, a complete change of pace followed:
Gainsbourg Percussions applies his wordplay to African rhythms. Foolishly, he freely ripped off the Nigerian drummer Babatunde Olatunji, whose 1960 album Drums Of Passion had been a million-seller in America. Wrist slapped, in need of a boost to his finances, Gainsbourg wouldn’t record again for four years, preferring to write pop songs that could stand proud among those imbecilic ditties in the hit parade. His return, with Initials
B.B., finds an arch Gainsbourg in love with that world, revelling in his role as a 40-year-old hipster, Brigitte Bardot on his arm, singing about comic strips, American sports cars and Bonnie And Clyde. For all that 1968 is, in Jon Savage’s words, “the year the decade exploded”, there are few albums more 1968 than this. When Gainsbourg, in his Nehru collar, asked Qui Est “In” Qui Est “Out” you knew he knew where he stood. Naturellement, it didn’t sell.
Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg broke the run of failures in spectacular style. Though it is anchored by Je T’Aime Moi Non Plus, the couple’s Vatican-denounced heavy-breathing classic doesn’t overwhelm the rest of the album – L’Anamour, 69 Année Érotique and Sous Le Soleil Exactement see to that – while Birkin throws herself into her songs with convincing gusto. After more than 10 years as a recording artist, and with a significant portfolio as a hit songwriter, Gainsbourg was an overnight sensation. Soon enough, he would find himself back at the lower end of the charts again, yet with a notoriety that would sustain his career when his sales failed to match his talent and, latterly, when his gifts left him altogether. A story for another box set, no doubt.
There’s an oft-repeated view of Gainsbourg as a Svengali, writing songs for young women whose allure would take his songs places he would never be accepted. Yet, listened to end to end, these 10 discs tell another story, one in which the master is the pupil. He begins as an imitator of great chansonniers and flirts unconvincingly with Latin jazz and rock’n’roll, but it’s his time away from recording that sees him learn that if he wants to be Serge Gainsbourg he has to sound unlike anyone else. The early albums are often very good indeed, but it’s when he is true to himself that his music becomes irresistible. The collection stops here, with his masterpieces ahead of him, but how he got there is quite the story.