Jacques Brel—Jacques Brel et ses chansons

Jacques Brel—Jacques Brel et ses chansons (1954)

Jacques Brel et ses chansons—Jacques Brel only began writing and performing music in 1952 when he was 23. Before then, his only apparent creative outlet was in amateur theater with friends. Otherwise, his upbringing was highly theological—he went to Catholic school in Belgium and spent most of his spare time as part of a Catholic philanthropic group. After a spot in the military, he began writing songs as a new creative outlet, having developed a relatively late interest in music. Unfortunately, the emotive nature of Brel's performances was not well-received by his family, and when he moved to Paris in 1953, audiences were almost uniformly indifferent and sometimes hostile. However, thanks to the talent agent at Philips who convinced him to move there in the first place, Brel was able to record his debut, Jacques Brel et ses chansons (known sometimes as Grand Jacques or Jacques Brel 1).

The brash "La haine" ("Hatred"), a frustrated lover's harangue, is full of great, stinging Brel lines like "Comme un soldat je partirai/Mourir comme meurent les enfants/Et si jamais tu en mourais/J'en voudrais revenir vivant" and "L'amour est mort, vive la haine/Et toi, matériel déclassé/Va-t'en donc accrocher ta peine/Au musée des amours ratées." On "Grand Jacques (C'est trop facile)" ("Great Jacques [It's Too Easy]"), Brel points out the arbitrariness of absolution ("C'est trop facile d'entrer aux églises/De déverser toute sa saleté") and criticizes the myopic nature of his peers ("Vous ne voyez donc point vos cimetières?") and the heavy-handedness with which they approach love ("Qu'il craque en deux parce qu'on l'a trop plié") while lamenting to himself the seeming pointlessness of his protests and concluding that it's too easy to go through life without asking the big questions. The "Alabama Song"-reminiscent "Il pleut (Les carreaux)" is sung from the point of view of a young man claiming his failure at romance to be out of his control, but "La lune danse pour moi le soir ... et son haleine, immense halo, me caresse." The mock-mischievous "Le diable (Ça va)" (The Devil [It's Fine]) furthers Brel's theme of societal disconnect ("On traite les braves de fous/Et les poètes de nigauds"), effectively deriding "Ça va" as an expression of flippancy. "Il peut pleuvoir" (Let It Rain), by contrast, is a straightforward, concise love song.

"Il nous faut regarder" ("We Must Look") reminds us to look beyond the world's ugliness to see its patches of beauty. The tragicomical waltz "Le fou de roi" ("The King's Fool") is a statement on class, while the cheeky "C'est comme ça" ("That's How It Is") exposes the stagnant lives of the common people, the two songs exhibiting conflicting sides of Brel's worldview. The parable "Sur la place" (In the Square), the best and most nuanced song here, alleges the hardened hearts of the masses.

Jacques Brel et ses chansons is something of an anomaly; by his second album, Quand on n'a que l'amour, Brel was already moving into a wider variety of more lush arrangements. The literary quality of his debut is more often than not on par with his more well-known songs, but it's unique for its minimalist guitar settings and more rustic feel of Brel's stricter cabaret origins. Thus, while it might not be his peak, Et ses chansons is an enchanting, thought-provoking collection—and just under 20 minutes.