Charles Aznavour

06.10.04

When I think of France, I see the smoke of cigarettes in a café, the smell of coffee or warm baguettes in the street, and people on old-fashioned bicycles working their way along the cobblestone. In this quaint and only semi-realistic vision, there is always a mysteriously and uniquely French style of music playing in the background. And ladies and gentlemen, Aznavour is the king of it.

Ok, ok. There are others. Gainsbourg comes to mind first and foremost. But something is so tortured and romantic and pleasant and stuck-in-the-40's (like the rest of the country) about Aznavour that means I can listen to his albums for hours on end. The others I have to turn off eventually. He sings lullabies, urban tales, and great romance stories. And unlike most French singers I have come to know, he has a great, soothing voice.

This song, La Boheme, is one of his better known. It's soft and sweet, and on permanent loop in my Top 25. For those who speak French, the words are beautiful... for those who don't, there's my weak (but with good intentions) translation below. Note that sooo much is lost in translation, but it's just to give you an idea what he's talking about.

If you're not interested, just scroll down for the download.

PS He's also a really famous actor. And an artist, obviously.

I'll tell you about a time
That those under twenty
Could not possibly know.
At that time, Montmartre
Was hanging lilies
Up to our windows
And so humbly decorated
was our home
that we didn't pay for
That's where we met
Myself who cried out hunger
And you who posed naked.

Bohemia, Bohemia
That meant "we were happy"
Bohemia Bohemia
We only ate every other day.

In neighboring cafes
We were some of those
Who were waiting for glory.
And although miserable
With an empty stomach
We never stopped believing.
And when any cafe
For a warm meal
Lent us a canvas
We would recite verses
Gathered around the (cooking) pan
Forgetting winter.

Bohemia, Bohemia
That meant "you are pretty"
Bohemia, Bohemia
And we all had some genius in us

Often times
In front of my easel
I would have a sleepless night
Changing the drawing
The line of a breast
The curve of a hip
And it wouldn't be until morning
That we would finally sit down
In front of a café au lait
Exhausted but happy
We had to love one another
and love life.

Bohemia, Bohemia
It meant "we are twenty"
Bohemia, Bohemia
And we were living the times

On some random days
I stop by
My old address that
I no longer recognize
Not the walls, not the streets
That saw my youth
Up a flight of stairs
I look for the artist's studio
Of which nothing more exists
With its new decoration
Montmartre seems sad
and the lilies are dead.

Bohemia, Bohemia
We were young, we were crazy
Bohemia, Bohemia
It doesn't mean anything at all.

Download it here : Charles Aznavour - La Boheme