La Chanson De Serge – The Serge Gainsbourg Story
Radio 2
Poetry Please
Radio 4
Serge Gainsbourg, the creative French icon, is best remembered for his breathy, steamy hit “Je T’aime Moi Non Plus” with his long-time lover and muse, Jane Birkin. It gained notoriety in 1969 by being banned in several European countries and was denounced by the Pope. There was no better publicity, according to Birkin.
Anyone who cares to give the song any more credence than it deserves will be aware that there is mild debate about whether it was mock eroticism or real lovemaking on the track. From a man who thought of provocation as oxygen, the controversy was probably deliberate and orchestrated by Gainsbourg and thoroughly enjoyed by his fellow bohemians on the Rive Gauche – and far beyond.
But regardless of the authenticity of the groans and sighs, there was so much more depth and intelligence to Gainsbourg and La Chanson De Serge, an informative documentary, presented by Malcolm McLaren, gave us a multi-dimensional portrait of a very clever and innovative artist.
Gainsbourg was born in 1928 to Russian Jewish parents who had fled the Bolshevik uprising in 1917 and moved to Paris. As a child, he experienced the occupation of France by Nazi Germany. Because of their background the family was forced to wear the yellow star to mark them out in public, identifying their ethnicity and religion. Gainsbourg always knew he was different and never managed to shake off his feelings of self-doubt or the stigma of being rootless.
Creatively, though, he seemed to relish the choices open to him, either to be an insider or an outsider, depending on his moods, and enjoying commercial success as well as avant-garde appreciation. His compositions featured in several Eurovision Song Contests, winning in 1965 with “Poupee de Cire” sung by France Gall. Gainsbourg’s singing style reminds me of a bizarre cross between Leonard Cohen, Jake Thackray and any stereotypical male Parisian lounge singer you can imagine. Yet it worked beautifully in capturing the casual, smoky jazziness and jauntiness of his songs with their hints of ambiguity and double entendre.
He developed his artistic reputation with Petula Clark, Juliette Greco, Francoise Hardy, Brigitte Bardot and Catherine Deneuve, for he loved the company of women. Bardot was a major obsession and together they were labelled as a kind of beauty and beast couple. He was described as brooding, strange and wonderful – a singer who elevated popular song to the level of pure art. When he died in 1991, France was shocked because he had become such a defining character of his nation’s creative heart. McLaren’s calm, respectful, matter-of-fact presentation was just perfect.
More creativity was celebrated on Poetry Please’s 30th anniversary special edition from the Bristol Old Vic. This is a BBC programme that deserves to be cherished, because it has no intention of changing its remit. And why should it? It is as comfortable and comforting as a soft cushion or an old slipper – and none the worse for that. It is a timeless recognition of popular poetry, a celebration of writing and recitation that does not pretend to be anything other than something pleasant to please loyal listeners.
It does not offend, unlike a lot of media output – a remarkable achievement in this day and age. Much of the programme’s appeal is down to Roger McGough’s presence as genial, cosy and knowledgeable host. Together with the quality of the speakers and the choice of poems, this makes Poetry Please a radio treasure, – gentle and innocent, but rich in intelligence and imagery.
Joe Cushnan
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