Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
OK, I admit it. I have a thing for girl French singers. I like Camille. I like Carla Bruni. I like Sandrine Kiberlain. I like Charlotte Gainsbourg. I like Clarika. But if you don’t count Edith Piaf, I never heard of the granddaddy of them all (if that’s the right phrase) until this week: Françoise Hardy. Look at her. Just look at her. She makes other yé-yé girls look like fishwives.
And what I really appreciate about her is that she has allowed herself to age with utter grace. No plastic surgery for her. Nothing but complete acceptance of who she is, and she can still sing. Her later stuff, with typically crystalline French arrangements, is superb.
It’s nice to discover new things. Even if they’re from fifty years ago.