In 1972, 10 years before my birth, I would have loved Michel Polnareff for what it was, and not for what it was. Unfortunately for me, I can now admire a glorious past that has nothing great or impressive. The vestiges of an era, somehow (but is not this the case with many things that I listen? Listening to the new Ray Davies, one can ask the question).
In 1972, Michel Polnareff is at the top of his game at the top of his talent. The boy is shy and brilliant now become megalomaniac superstar. The turn is played precisely during this series of concerts at the Olympia in October.
In 1993, I found myself in possession of an audiotape on which this live was recorded at the time by my father. I loved this tape so much that I almost slept with (I fell asleep with my walkman headphones over the ears). Unfortunately, anyone who knows me knows that I just am naturally disorganized, or even, for some, downright messy. By dint of wandering the tape at the bottom of my bag one day what had happened: a crumb chocolate slipped inside. Terrified at the thought of losing my precious tape, I tried everything for several days to release the intruder, without success. The only thing I managed to do was return the tape within the cassette, which rendered completely inaudible.
Seeing no way out the problem I had finished, in desperation, conducted entirely by the band of tape across the floor of my parents' house, with all the care and thoroughness with which I was still capable. Miracle shaking slightly, the chocolate crumb finally out. With an unfailing patience in these situations, so I began to rewind the cassette gently with a pencil. The operation lasted a staggering number of hours, all for a single tape (in those days, the logic would have me just suggest to buy this album in CD, but alas I was totally lacking), but proved Pay: it works again so perfectly that I can still hear it today in my old car.
Despite its fairly rotten with this live recording, it contains some wonderful versions of some of the tubes Polnareff. His final masterpiece, the Bal des Laze , there is absolutely masterful with bass and drums that give it an emergency that the original version did not, for the organ side "I sing from my damp dungeon" and the flute for the side aristocracy ... Polnareff's voice is perfect, put less plaintive than usual, a calm and detachment which transcribe perfectly the mood of his character.
The Fly and empty house, also in faster versions are of an intensity not found anymore (when I think I attended live, I I always want to cry). Polnareff still has humor vis-à-vis himself, a decline that has continued to lose since. He laughs at his troubles with the law on We all go to paradise by adding the phrase "that shows her ass or they do not show it," referring to the controversy aroused by the famous poster of the show. It also interprets the song with a deep voice and sober he sometimes forgets to use later in favor of bombast and theatrics not always welcome. Even Gloria and It will not happen to lose their pathos and get moving. On Love me, love me please he improvises at the piano with an ease and mastery of a virtuoso. As for The Trumpet is a true demonstration of rhythmic and vocal abilities of the singer.
After this tour, Polnareff let himself engulfed by his own demons will steal her money, went into exile in the United States where the complete California to encourage the bad taste in bling bling, will sell far too often the ease and stews consist of unnamed ... Still remain a few nuggets to save the carnage: Prince hostage, the man who wept tears of glass, or a sad story (yes, Me, I love this song) but ultimately, little things really interesting.
At last, the portly old man expect, at age 66, her first child ... Ultimately, it is not so bad, hope it occupies enough to never sound so "new album long awaited by hordes of fans that nostalgia makes the deaf. He has already tried enough to make us forget how he could be a genius.
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