Chanter

Description

On knows about trains, less about Brel: one can hide another. One is the uncle, the other the nephew. Both were destined, immutable daily routine, relentless fate, to be bored at the family cardboard factory, to look out the window, to escape. But one cannot tame a Brel, keep him captive. Even a fifteen-year gap, the same Brussels cabarets, the same Canetti at the end, the same first names from Paris... Family franchise with few branches, one was the great Brel, the other lived in the shadows, unjustly banned from any notoriety. For, as Mireille, from the Petit conservatoire de la chanson, solemnly declared, "there is already a Brel, we don't need a second!" Like once in the flat country, Bruno's name is a heavy handicap that the copycats make him pay. He is willingly mocked. But, as his uncle once told him, "in the family, we take responsibility!" And Bruno will take responsibility, against all odds, against adversity, against immeasurable stupidity. From the very beginning, Bruno had a repertoire all his own, rich as desired. His first albums, from 1977 and 1979, testify to this. And a writing, a true one, powerful, refined, almost hereditary. He is compared, but for a long time, he will refuse to be the Jacques. Then, heritage and descent oblige, yielding to friendly pressure, he will weave from 1988 onwards his recitals with songs from the late uncle. But seeing one does not console for not having seen the other. It is to prolong the adventure, the desire, the pleasure. It is to set off for another round. This anthology of forty-two titles, which includes only one from Grand Jacques (a song that only Bruno performed), aims modestly to extend the memory and work of Bruno Brel, who passed away in February 2025. To remember or discover titles on often timeless subjects, some still of burning relevance, such as Les Migrants from 1979 which echoes Calais from 2017, four decades later. So, yes, many of Bruno's songs are tinged with Jacques, seem to have a similar writing style, call for a similar gesture. The same genes, the same pleasures. And it doesn't matter. What Bruno Brel leaves us is a remarkable journey of songs, unfortunately little known to the general public even though he carried them to nearly forty countries. As is his other journey, that of a writer (five novels, short stories, and various essays) of which any well-kept library can be proud. One can dive into another of his books, an autobiography of remarkable finesse and lucidity, Le Neveu de son oncle, published by the Belgian editions Café de la Rue in 2021. A whole life in nearly four hundred pages, a condensed version of rare strength.