Johnny Go Home
I've been meaning to mention this for a while, since the South Bank Show on him, but where to begin? Why the Belgian Johnny Hallyday is so popular with the French is bemusing. Perhaps because he speaks French, they assume he is French.
Perhaps French country people are so unsophisticated, they have no conception of different nationalities speaking the same language. They have sort of adopted Celine Dion for the same reason, though I have witness members of my family (by marriage) laughing at her accent.
The truth is, in France, Johnny is only popular with other people - i.e., you never meet anyone who admits to liking him. A bit like Abba were to Brits in the un-ironic 80s. On the other hand, Johnny is everywhere - in every "Hello" type magazine, Paris Match, even l'Observateur, or whatever it is called. And Johnny books are in every book shop, his face on every newsstand, etc. Which is odd, because he obviously sells magazines, but still you never meet anyone who admits to liking him.
The French, it is commonly acknowledged, have never really "got" rock and roll, and their national music is still dominated by chansons and all that piaf-t. On French radio, they have rules, so they can only play so much English-language stuff, and then it has to be in French, which of course explains the popularity of Johnny and Celine. And this has been going on for years and years.
It's fascinating to me that he is such a massive star, and always has been. I remember when I was at school, my former best friend went on a summer holiday to the south of France, and came back talking about Johnny Halliday. This would have been around the time that Elvis died. And the funniest thing was, I always felt that Dave (name changed to spare his blushes) adopted some of the Halliday look and style, and in fact grew to resemble him quite closely. I mean, the guy was fundamentally uncool, which was why I liked him, and he needed me around to add the vinegar to his dressing. And probably the mustard. He went to see the original Grease movie and adopted a quiff+DA hairstyle, not just for a couple of weeks, but for years after. Which just made him resemble Johnny more.
On the South Bank Show, people were comparing Halliday to James Dean and Elvis, which was almost embarrassing. Because it was clear, crystal, that the French were still not getting that he wasn't cool. Not only not James Dean, not even close, not even close to dead, fat Elvis, much closer in spirit to Cliff Richard.
So in France you enter this strange celebrity vortex, where the A-list star, the one you never see sitting around wasting his life on TV chat shows, the one who is Too Big for TV, the one on every newsstand, in every gossip column, is, basically, Sir Cliff.
There's an incredibly funny passage in Tim Moore's book about cycling the route of the Tour de France, French Revolutions. He notices, in the way only cyclists do, how many unspooled cassette tapes litter the roadside. He decides they're all probably Johnny Halliday tapes, and plays out the imagined conversation between a loving couple in his head. "Johnny's great, isn't he? I really love him." "Yes, I agree, he is great, but you know? Let's agree that he is great, but that we don't have to listen to his terrible music any more." "Yeah, let's..."
Something like that, forgive me Mr Moore, but you will appreciate I am too lazy to check the actual book. But it is great, in a way, that someone can be such a huge star, but not be any good. At all. I mean, totally unlistenable, pompous, overblown, tuneless. But he makes great shows! And nobody I have ever met admits to liking him!
Incidentally, my own cycle ride roadside detritus observations reveal what appears to be a local epidemic in lighter gas sniffing. Empty aerosols of butane litter one particular country lane, from top to bottom, and you can see the discarded lids in the ditches too. What with all the McDonald's wrappers, I deduce that a local "good night out" involves a trip to McDonald's, then parking on a quiet country lane for a bit of gas sniffing. Then drive home at 75mph and kill a few pedestrians, I assume.
A Johnny Halliday concert would be (marginally) preferable.
Perhaps French country people are so unsophisticated, they have no conception of different nationalities speaking the same language. They have sort of adopted Celine Dion for the same reason, though I have witness members of my family (by marriage) laughing at her accent.
The truth is, in France, Johnny is only popular with other people - i.e., you never meet anyone who admits to liking him. A bit like Abba were to Brits in the un-ironic 80s. On the other hand, Johnny is everywhere - in every "Hello" type magazine, Paris Match, even l'Observateur, or whatever it is called. And Johnny books are in every book shop, his face on every newsstand, etc. Which is odd, because he obviously sells magazines, but still you never meet anyone who admits to liking him.
The French, it is commonly acknowledged, have never really "got" rock and roll, and their national music is still dominated by chansons and all that piaf-t. On French radio, they have rules, so they can only play so much English-language stuff, and then it has to be in French, which of course explains the popularity of Johnny and Celine. And this has been going on for years and years.
It's fascinating to me that he is such a massive star, and always has been. I remember when I was at school, my former best friend went on a summer holiday to the south of France, and came back talking about Johnny Halliday. This would have been around the time that Elvis died. And the funniest thing was, I always felt that Dave (name changed to spare his blushes) adopted some of the Halliday look and style, and in fact grew to resemble him quite closely. I mean, the guy was fundamentally uncool, which was why I liked him, and he needed me around to add the vinegar to his dressing. And probably the mustard. He went to see the original Grease movie and adopted a quiff+DA hairstyle, not just for a couple of weeks, but for years after. Which just made him resemble Johnny more.
On the South Bank Show, people were comparing Halliday to James Dean and Elvis, which was almost embarrassing. Because it was clear, crystal, that the French were still not getting that he wasn't cool. Not only not James Dean, not even close, not even close to dead, fat Elvis, much closer in spirit to Cliff Richard.
So in France you enter this strange celebrity vortex, where the A-list star, the one you never see sitting around wasting his life on TV chat shows, the one who is Too Big for TV, the one on every newsstand, in every gossip column, is, basically, Sir Cliff.
There's an incredibly funny passage in Tim Moore's book about cycling the route of the Tour de France, French Revolutions. He notices, in the way only cyclists do, how many unspooled cassette tapes litter the roadside. He decides they're all probably Johnny Halliday tapes, and plays out the imagined conversation between a loving couple in his head. "Johnny's great, isn't he? I really love him." "Yes, I agree, he is great, but you know? Let's agree that he is great, but that we don't have to listen to his terrible music any more." "Yeah, let's..."
Something like that, forgive me Mr Moore, but you will appreciate I am too lazy to check the actual book. But it is great, in a way, that someone can be such a huge star, but not be any good. At all. I mean, totally unlistenable, pompous, overblown, tuneless. But he makes great shows! And nobody I have ever met admits to liking him!
Incidentally, my own cycle ride roadside detritus observations reveal what appears to be a local epidemic in lighter gas sniffing. Empty aerosols of butane litter one particular country lane, from top to bottom, and you can see the discarded lids in the ditches too. What with all the McDonald's wrappers, I deduce that a local "good night out" involves a trip to McDonald's, then parking on a quiet country lane for a bit of gas sniffing. Then drive home at 75mph and kill a few pedestrians, I assume.
A Johnny Halliday concert would be (marginally) preferable.
posted by Anonymous at
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
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