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tantas Saudades...

Saturday, March 12, 2016
-Roger Tabra 

Unknown anywhere other than Québec 
and everywhere else where French is spoken, 
read, sung and mangled, 
this poet and lyricist 
has just left us. 
He leaves behind a plethora of great songs, 
interpreted by a handful of average artists 
all hailing from the author's adopted home; 
Montréal city, mostly.

I cannot say that I was a huge fan - 
the man reminded me of 
Serge Gainsbourg 
-and Gerry Boulet, a lot too-
all of those rough-around-the-edges,  
hard-as-nails artistic types 
who can be as hard on the eye 
as they can be soothing for the soul,  
were never my cup of tea. 
Perhaps that is due to the fact that 
I view myself as one of those; 
potentially, I can only be 
one of those, methinks...
And this devastates me. 

I may not be a heavy drinker 
like Gainsbourg and Tabra; 
but I share the same melancholy. 
My path has been different; 
yet I have the very same 
sautes d'humeur...
Roger Tabra and I 
could not be more different, 
physically or in our 
yet we are viewed 
the exact same way...

having stated all this 
-having stated too much!- 
some of the texts left behind 
by Mr. Tabra 
certainly did strike a chord, 
resonating deep within me 
as they had, most certainly, 
deep within even the most 
brutish member 
of his immediate audience...
It is easy to picture, in truth, 
a beer-guzzling biker 
or a drug lord pimp 
just like those I used to 
cross paths with, in Laval, 
rocking to the tune of 
''N'Importe Quoi''
''Mon Ange''  
- both rendered by one 
Éric Lapointe, 
Tabra's closest collaborator 
and main voice 
for his words and for his 
world of anguish... 

No matter who the singer was, 
the lyrics, the poetry;
that is what mattered the most. 
Those words weaved together 
by Roger Tabra 
expressed so many things 
left unsaid...
It was no surprise that 
his personal preference 
was to have that kid, 
Éric Lapointe, 
be his main voice -
for he was, in effect, 
a younger version of himself.

There were others, of course; 
all catering to the same crowd, 
for with the same genes... 

And me - the outsider 
always amidst those types, 
but never to belong. 
And yet - I listened 
to the same stuff -
and I wrote similar things!

But it is that quote 
that resonates the most of all; 
the poet that he was 
-and is, in the ether- 
delivered his final boutade 
in the most convincing way 
proving that his entire 
body of work 
had that singular 
cry of despair 
driving it all along...

And so, like all artists 
and most human beings, 
he strove for immortality. 
And he started to achieve it 
at the age of 45 -
when, finally, his love for 
the written word 
began to be noticed 
and to pay off...

That, along with the quote, 
strikes me the most, 
tonight, as I cyber-pen this, 
onto this blog, 
rather than on 
the lugubrious blog...
Because it seems to fit better here. 
Because it is the artist's 
prerogative - 
the writer's stance - 
the blogger's choice! 

Because that first song he penned, 
that first hit, 
told the story of so many, 
how they all felt -
how they will always feel...
Everyone who ever listened to it, 
really listened, 
understanding every word, 
every note, every emotion...
And Roger himself...

Rest in peace, Roger.

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Born in the Age of Aquarius, destined to seek out truths in many an art form, trained as a historian and a journalist but truly a prose-lover... Luciano is out to dispel any clichés and reinvent them all both to the tune of a little something called the truth as also to his own image - being old-fashioned, he does not mind that distinction one infinitesimal tiny bit at all...! "There are two ways to spread the light; be the candle... or the mirror that reflects It." I have chosen to be the latter... okay? ~*~ "To be not only a seeker of light... but a dream weaver of light" ~*~ For as surely as the moon reflects the light from the sun, you and I can reflect the Light from Above - and be, indeed, the light of this world! ~*~*~*~

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