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Category: French music

Father-in-Law Vinyl Purge 2012 – Dining with the Source

Effecting a study of someone’s personal evolution through his album collection is like researching an historical event through its primary sources.  Although there is something chillingly Facebook-like about it, which is a nice way of saying that there is a small stalker-ish quality to obsessing over someone else’s albums in order to dig deeper into that person’s true being, actually talking to the person is never a bad idea.

That person is my future father-in-law.  Last night, I had dinner with my fiancé and future father-in-law.  The three of us enjoyed some good food and good conversation while I did some incognito research.  I tried to find out things like: why he wouldn’t want to hold onto mainstream musical gems from the ’70s, how his long-standing affinity towards everything Tibetan figures into his past listening habits, and what exactly those turntable experiences have amounted to in his current situation.

Any fruit that was born from my pursuit wasn’t so ripe for the picking.  It wasn’t until I read Sheila Weller’s July 2012 Vanity Fair article today about San Francisco’s growing hippie culture in the 1960s that I was able to connect some of the dots.  Of that culture, one of the decade’s scenesters said, “‘Everything was spiritual.  Everyone read the Tibetan Book of the Dead.'”

There!  My future father-in-law, although he grew up in a small town in Alsace, which is nowhere near San Francisco, and for whom correlating his experience to a bunch of American kids on the West Coast might not be without fault, gave up a good part of his record collection because he became more interested in encountering consciousness than subscribing to the pop music of the era.

Weller’s article also put a large “X” through my question mark about Tibetan Buddhism’s rise in the West and in my future father-in-law’s life.  As for his current situation, I can’t say that his musical tastes have really organically evolved from the French pop music of his youth.  He seems to really be into Tibetan music.  I guess he’s just the kind of person who listens to stuff that he doesn’t have to think about.  But before that becomes my definitive conclusion to the greater search, I suppose I have more snooping around to do.

(Photo via VF)

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Father-in-Law Vinyl Purge 2012 – #2 Bernard Lavilliers

Tonight, unlike last time, I felt like I could listen to the entire album of Bernard Lavilliers (O Gringo!, Barclay Records, 1980).  It would tell me a story, I thought.  As the first song poured into my amplifier and out of my speakers, I got the sense that this was going to be a punk story.  The bass line recalled Social Distortion’s rhythmic backdrops.  Well, that’s about the only parallel that I could draw between Bernard Lavilliers’s brand of punk music and that of the Anglophone world’s.  Some synthesized glissés of guitar noise made a mental image of David Lee Roth pop into my mind.    
Then, we moved on.  To different avatars of Bernard Lavilliers, or simply, Lavilliers.  Air pipes from Ecuador.  Musical stylings from central Asia (despite the fact that this album’s work was supposed to specifically represent that of the western hemisphere).  I think Bernard fancied himself as a young Tony Bennett at one point.  Boy, there were many twists to this tale.
His vocals dominated the tracks, giving more fuel to my general burning distaste for the chansons à texte.  Random shout-outs and what I perceived to be rapping stoked the flames.  Really, if you subtracted the words, you would be left with easy listening: three cyclically repeated tones and a handful of big band instruments inching themselves in every so often, lengthwise .
Sometime after realizing that I had listened to the majority of the record and with two more songs to go, I looked up at the album’s cover from across the room.  Mr. Lavilliers was laughing at me.  Yes, sitting in his decrepit bedroom, which I can only guess was couch-surfed before absconding to New York from France, he seemed to laugh/say, this wasn’t really an album.  It was really a sampler of the large variety and styles of songs that, I, Lavilliers, can perform at your next wedding reception.  Gotcha!  I suppose if that was his story, I didn’t like it.

Verdict?  Toss.

 

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