...tantas Saudades...!!!: 1990...

...tantas Saudades...!!!

Saturday, March 12, 2016

1990...

''MA VIE EST ENCEINTE DE MA MORT
ET ÇA, ÇA M'FAIT CHIER''

-Roger Tabra

1949-2016

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

mannerisms;

yet we are viewed

the exact same way...

Nonetheless,

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...

Éric...

Everyone who ever listened to it,

really listened,

understanding every word,

every note, every emotion...

And Roger himself...

Rest in peace, Roger.

+++

Labels: commemorative, lugubrious simulpost, Music

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