tuto guitare françoise hardy

Online sources (which, again, are not infallible) refer to this Distel track as a 1965 recording, however. His version starts off with a rather eerie sequence of what sound like high organ notes, then easing into a fully arranged dramatic ballad. Titled (like Hardy’s own interpretation) “Parlez-Moi de Lui,” it outdid Kirby’s original on every level. “Rêve” (“Dream”), which concluded the LP, had originally been issued by another Brazilian singer-songwriter, Taiguara, as “A Transa.” A nearly instrumental piece, it trod somewhere between sumptuous string-laden easy listening and cinematic movie theme, its descending motif very slightly recalling the one from Midnight Cowboy. Her song "Ma jeunesse fout le camp" was also played in the television series La Femme Nikita's third season episode "Beyond the Pale", when Nikita pulls out an old record and plays the song. Her cover’s okay, but not a match for Ochs’s. The orchestra played harder and louder too, especially at the de rigueur pull-out-the-stops soaring finale. All this combines to make “Comment te Dire Adieu” one of Hardy’s most interesting covers, and certainly one of the covers that differed most from its model. Hardy’s second cover, in contrast to her first, was one of her greatest and most famous recordings. Catchy and peppy (especially when it goes into double-time for the chorus), it’s nonetheless outdone—if not by much—by Hardy’s vivacious version. Bardot’s arrangement, as you might guess, is a little more in the yé-yé vein, with a jazzier backing featuring acoustic guitar, piano, and Herb Alpert-like trumpet. “Never Learn to Cry” is nothing less than a triumph, however, and an infectiously catchy highlight of En Anglais. Hello, Mr. It seems possible, and maybe even likely, that Hardy was also—or even only—familiar with a French-language cover by Italian woman singer Dalida in 1966. It seems likely her version was the one Hardy heard first and most often, though it’s possible she also heard the one in 1967 by Michèle Arnaud, original performer of another song Françoise covered, “Ma Jeunesse Fout L’Camp.” Arnaud also used the same French translation for the lyrics (by Eddie Marnay) that Hardy did, retitling the song (again, as Hardy did) “Où Va La Chance?”. It’s tough, however, to take on Dusty Springfield and win; it’s not like taking on Joe Brown or the Joys. Or Is That "Sid Barret"? Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, though they’d at least get to write a couple songs on her 1972 LP. Hardy had another brush with Montand in the mid-1960s, incidentally, but outside the recording studio. As to how she ended up working with Jones and Brown, she told Kieron Tyler in the liner notes for the CD reissue of her 1965 album, “I knew Tommy Brown and Mick Jones because they were working for Johnny [Hallyday] and Sylvie [Vartan]. Download the PDF, print it and use our learning tools to master it. Barkan wrote or co-wrote Manfred Mann’s “Pretty Flamingo,” Lesley Gore’s “Maybe I Know,” and—lest we forget—the Banana Splits’ “The Tra La La Song (One Banana, Two Banana).” English, who was also a singer and recording artist, co-wrote (with Larry Weiss) the American Breed’s “Bend Me, Shape Me,” Eric Burdon & the Animals’ “Help Me Girl,” and Jeff Beck’s “Hi Ho Silver Lining.”. It sold over a million copies and was awarded a gold record. But check out Distel’s record anyway as an example of the rather rougher, more ostentatious way older male French singers of the time handled similar material—a manner that’s likely less to the liking of most twenty-first-century English-speaking listeners. Bown Bown Bown (French LP If You Listen, 1972), written by Mick Jones & Tommy Brown, The small but significant catalog of Jones and Brown’s songwriting contributions on Hardy discs ended on a high note with “Bown Bown Bown.” Despite the Eurovision-sounding title, it’s a reflective meditation with nice harp and subdued gongs, as well as high-for-Hardy singing in the bridge. Hardy’s version has the edge for its far greater, more relaxed playfulness, though there’s not so much you can do with a song so slight. The only other thing I’ve been able to find out about her is that she wrote the music for Well…Fair, described by New York magazine as a “street musical by Anne Roby” in its listing for its run at Cabaret 73 of the Manhattan Theater Club from October 5-9, 1972. There’s some strings here, too, but they’re more subtle, and her singing is nicely nuanced, as if she’s just about keeping her emotions below a boil. Hardy’s career continued, if with not nearly as frequent a release schedule as 1962-1972, almost to the present day; her most recent album, L’Amour Fou, came out in 2012 (although she announced in 2015 that her musical career had finished). There’s a more even, unexaggerated lilt to her vocals, and some bluesiness to the hastily picked opening acoustic guitar riff. There’s also a recording by male French singer Sacha Distel titled “Ne Dis Rien” which has the same melody as “Avant de T’en Aller” and “Sunshine Baby.” This track is referred to by some online sources (which are hardly flawless) as a version of a composition by Paul Anka and Don Costa called “Let’s Think About It.” That’s almost certainly the same song as “Think About It,” credited by (as noted above) other sources as an Anka-Costa work. Dusty Springfield, Ricky Nelson, Peggy Lee, Claudine Longet, Nina Simone, Neil Diamond, Dave Van Ronk, and even Leonard Nimoy had taken shots at it. Backed primarily by acoustic guitar and piano, with a strange cha-cha beat, it avoids the orchestral excesses on her arrangement of “La Mer.” According to a youtube clip—not the most reliable of sources in all cases, it should be cautioned—“she reportedly hates this version.”. You can tell I don’t have as much to say about this song as most of the previous items in this post, and I don’t have too much to say about Hardy’s cover either. Like some of the other material she was doing at this point in her career, it’s given a rather fruity middle-of-the-road production somewhat at odds with most of her 1960s output. But ever since it’s been listed as ‘Wilde-Hardy,’ like she wrote it, which is a joke.” Added Wilde unnecessarily, “I mean, Françoise might have written the French lyric but who bloody cares about France, anyway? And of all the songs he played her she liked none, with the possible exception of an instrumental that she took almost only so that the whole session shouldn’t have been a total waste of time. Françoise’s version is okay, but it’s no match for Dusty’s from either a vocal or instrumental standpoint. So chalk this up as one of the few outright missteps in her early discography, perhaps in a misguided attempt to break her into the English-speaking market. Although it was a 1965 release, it was a bit of a throwback to the doo-wop/teen idol-influenced approach of her early, pre-London recordings. Of all the original versions discussed in this piece, this was the most vexing to research. Her vocal’s a hell of a lot more frivolous than Hardy’s, as you’d definitely expect. It sounds like something that should have been tailored for Claudine Longet instead of Hardy, but Françoise still does a good job with the tune, giving it a sultrier cast than Longet could have ever managed. (As it things couldn’t get any worse in that department, the French version also is given an oh-so-slightly different title, “Bowm Bowm Bowm.”), (Several years after I first published this post, I became aware that Tommy Brown actually recorded this song first, under yet another title, “Bowm Bowm Bomm.” Sung in English, it’s on his rare solo LP Wednesday’s Children, released in October 1971, for which he billed himself as Thomas F. Browne. It’s even hard to determine whether Collins’s interpretation was the first, as according to at least one source, it was preceded by an unlikely version from operatic balladeer Julius La Rosa. If anyone outside of the UK is aware of the Vernons Girls, it’s likely because they were one of the several second-line (or more like third-line) British Invasion acts in the 1964 UK TV special Around the Beatles, in which the Beatles were naturally the headlining act. Let My Name Be Sorrow (French LP Françoise Hardy, 1972; titled If You Listen on CD reissue), Original version: Gilles Marchal (as “Quand Je Te Regarde Vivre”), 1970, and/or Mary Hopkin. La Fin de L’Été (French LP Ma Jeunesse Fout L’Camp, 1967), Original version: Gerard Bourgeois, 1963 and/or Brigitte Bardot 1964. In Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom (2012), her song "Le temps de l'amour" features prominently. Remarkably (again with the exception of that late-‘60s English-language album), very few of these were US or UK hits. American listeners are most likely to be familiar not with Hardy’s version (or certainly not with Celentano’s), but with yet another translation of the Italian original. It’s not one of her greatest interpretations, either, her enunciation—and she seems to be struggling more with English-language lyrics than usual—getting submerged by the orchestra to some extent. A big star in the UK by that time, Proby never had comparable success in his home country, and while there will be those who vehemently disagree, I don’t think he deserved it. But I couldn’t find a Paul Anka recording called “Think About It,” or an Anka single from 1963 that sounded like “Avant de T’En Aller.”. I also recall someone saying Nirvana’s recording got considerable play on pirate radio stations in the Channel.”, Original version: Keith Relf (as “Shapes in My Mind”), 1966, This peculiar track only counts as a half-cover, perhaps. While Collins might have been more responsible than anyone else for pioneering the “baroque folk” genre—folk, and a bit of rock, dressed up with orchestration—her rendition of “Suzanne” actually only uses acoustic guitar and bass. Again, the answer’s probably producer Tony Cox, who worked on Taylor’s LP as well as the 1972 album by Hardy. After almost two minutes, of course, an orchestra enters to alter the mood, followed by ethereal backup vocals. In France, he’s a legend almost on the scale of Elvis, both for his own recordings and the many songs he wrote for others. Her own flip side of the record, "Tous les garçons et les filles", became a success, riding the wave of yé-yé music in France. It might have been a little more interesting to hear her sing this with just a piano, as you do at the very beginning of the recording. Note that the French title translates to “How to Say Goodbye,” not “It Hurts to Say Goodbye,” perhaps accounting in part for the less sorrowful tone. More Versions. . The orchestration is kept more in the background than usual, and the spooky echoing clicks in the bridge are nice touches. Possibly the most obscure song Hardy covered—in the face of some pretty stiff competition—was “Say It Now,” translated into “Dis-Lui Non” (“Tell Him No,” in English). Thanks and I’m sorry about the flood. Françoise then recorded a French version, writing her own French-language lyrics. guitar com. As someone who wrote much of her own material, of course, she had much less need for a writer like Gainsbourg than Birkin, Bardot, and Gall did. (The EP, rather than the two-song 45, was the dominant format for record releases in France at the time.). With one of her corniest arrangements, it sounds like a leftover from her earliest sessions, or perhaps something done as an afterthought for a foreign market, with musicians and arrangers with whom she usually didn’t collaborate. Ladies of The 60s: Photo. All that happened was I wrote and recorded a song, ‘Bad Boy,’ then Françoise covered it and recorded it with French lyrics. It’s possible that FH found Tiny Goddess via the ’67 recording of The Jackpots, a popular band in Sweden. But then, what was typical of her output, or certainly of her covers? The European orchestral pop production is nice too, though again one suspects not wholly to her liking. She then did three to four performances as a singer in some musicarelli in Italy, for example, Questo pazzo, pazzo mondo della canzone in 1965. It would have been less predictable, and perhaps more interesting, to let this play out as low-key folk-rock the whole way through instead of bowing to the Françoise formula of sorts. [4] Her 1971 album La question represented an important turning point in her career, moving towards a more mature style; it remains her most acclaimed work and has generated a dedicated cult following over the years. But “Le Temps de L’Amour” is much cooler, with the addition of lyrics and Hardy’s assured, seductive vocal—qualities she’d bring to so many of her records in the ensuing decade. Later she turned out to be as alluring as Françoise. There’s much such stuff out there, and of course what they contributed to Hardy’s discography would be a major part of such an anthology. It’s a fairly forgettable slice of period string-speckled pop with a sing-songy chorus, Françoise’s vocals getting multi-tracked for that section. The new lyrics by Gainsbourg could in themselves account in part for the more upbeat tone of Hardy’s version. That’s not simply because her versions were often markedly superior to the originals; nearly always at least as good; and seldom (except for a late-‘60s English-language LP where she tackled numerous well-known American songs) markedly inferior. Rêve (French LP Françoise Hardy, 1971; titled La Question on CD reissue), Original version: Taiguara (as “A Transa”), 1970. Whatever the motivation, “Ma Jeunesse Fout L’Camp” was one of her less memorable tracks, though it was used as the title of her 1967 LP. This same year, Hardy played a minor role as the Mayor's assistant in Clive Donner’s film What's New Pussycat? It took a while for Jones and Brown to work with Hardy again, but when they did, they were key contributors to her Soleil album. This marks the first time these have been widely available with comprehensive English-language liner notes, which note the oft-obscure sources for the songs she covered on these albums. It had nothing to do with me.”. Il N’y a Pas d’Amour Heureux (French EP, circa late 1967). Since “A Transa” is so easygoing, it’s a shock to learn that Taiguara—like several Brazilian artists whose music sounds rather innocuous on the surface—regularly ran afoul of the authorities in his volatile homeland. He did not, however, often write for Françoise Hardy. “When I Get Through With You” seems to be an attempt by Cline to reach into this style, with a bouncy verse and catchy chorus, and not all that much country after the slow, nearly a cappella introduction. It’s not all that wonderful, but the highlight is a chorus where swimming strings fight it out with emphatic electric guitar riffs, Hardy sexily sing-whispering the title. I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today (French LP Françoise Hardy, 1972; titled If You Listen on CD reissue), Original version: Judy Collins, 1966 and/or Randy Newman, 1968. In 1963, she represented Monaco in the Eurovision Song Contest, finishing fifth with "L'amour s'en va". Ma Jeunesse Fout Le Camp (French EP, circa late 1967). I can’t think of why I wrote that sort of Gothic lyric. In its original version, “Till the Morning Comes” had lasted a mere 77 seconds, giving the impression of an unfinished sketch that had somehow escaped onto a record dominated by fully formed compositions. But Anka did record a song with the same melody, “Sunshine Baby,” which showed as a B-side of a 1964 German single. Ver 1. Françoise Hardy is a pop and fashion icon celebrated as a French national treasure. A track so obscure that I don’t remember seeing it on any CD reissue, “La Mer” was first released on the 1965 German LP Portrait in Musik, a mixture of German-language songs with French-language tunes such as this one (and one English-language track thrown in for good measure). (French EP, August 1963), Original version: Johnny Crawford (as “Your Nose Is Gonna Grow”), 1962. Heard by itself, it might understandably be too MOR for many listeners. There were unlikely connections to figures spanning Yardbirds singer Keith Relf to Ennio Morricone. As to why she didn’t do any Jones-Brown songs after 1972, that might have been due at least in part to Jones seeking new pastures. While not all of her covers were great, Hardy’s overall record as an interpreter of songs previously released by others is flat-out impressive. Early American rock’n’roll was a big (if hardly the only) influence on Hardy, but it wasn’t until the late 1960s that she covered well-known early rock’n’roll classics. Jacques Dutronc had a key role on one of Hardy’s earliest and greatest records as the writer of the El Toro et Les Cyclones instrumental “Fort Chabrol,” which when set to lyrics generated her 1962 classic “Le Temps de L’Amour.” The following year, Dutronc wrote the music to another Françoise track, “Va Prendre un Tambour,” with lyrics by Maurice Vidalin (who’d written for French stars Juliette Greco and Barbara). 24. Hang on to a Dream (UK LP En Anglais, 1968), Original version: Tim Hardin (as “How Can We Hang on to a Dream”), 1966. For all its slightness, it’s something Vogue apparently had high hopes for, adapting it into French with songwriters Jil and Jan, who’d also written for France’s top ‘60s male rock singer, Johnny Hallyday. Hardy’s cover is good-natured, but one of the few examples of an early-to-mid-‘60s recording of hers that doesn’t measure up to the original. Nonetheless, I have to admit I like Bardot’s version of “La Fin de L’Été” better. Bienvenue sur la chaine YouTube officielle de Françoise Hardy. But it’s not really that great a song to begin with, though it’s  fairly typical of Anka’s early-’60s compositions. “Tiny Goddess” was their first single, combining harpsichord, cello, and hushed female backup vocals in its gently flower-power-styled portrait of the song’s subject. On his own and with others, British songwriter Tony Macaulay’s long career took in some of the most pop-oriented rock hits of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Hardy even replicates the double-tracked vocals on the chorus from Alpert’s single. Her parents lived apart when she was young; her father contributed little financially to the family and had little to do with his daughters. So he was a suitable collaborator for Hardy as she moved into more powerful, Spector-influenced sides in the mid-1960s. [G D A E] Chords for Francoise Hardy - Only Friends (ton meilleur ami) with capo transposer, play along with guitar, piano, ukulele & mandolin. While it’s not a traditional folk song, it sounds as though it could have been, with the mournful, ominous feel of a medieval narrative ballad. ", Innocence in Amber: Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, Balenciaga Fall 2005 Ready-to-Wear Collection on Style.com: Runway Review, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Françoise_Hardy&oldid=1010172253, Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License, "Only You Can Do It" ("Je veux qu'il revienne"), "Just Call and I'll Be There" ("Le Temps des souvenirs"), Midnight Blues: Paris, London, 1968-72 (2013), "Tous les garçons et les filles" and "Le Premier Bonheur du jour" in, "Amours toujours, tendresses, caresses" in, This page was last edited on 4 March 2021, at 04:02. guitar com. Vas Pas Prendre un Tambour (French EP, circa mid-to-late 1963), written by Jacques Dutronc & Maurice Vidalin. Of course you could be mature and rock hard too, as the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and so many others were proving. Yardbirds fans ears will instantly perk up, however, when Hardy sings the bridges, which are taken note-for-note and word-for-word from the bridges of Keith Relf’s flop 1966 single “Shapes in My Mind.”. It must be said, however, that Hardy’s cover absolutely trounces Jones’s rendition. [23] Vocal M S. Rhythm Guitar M S. Solo Guitar M S. Drums M S. View all instruments. Cafard (French LP Françoise Hardy, 1972; titled Et Si Je M’En Vais Avant Toi for CD reissue), written by Françoise Hardy & Jacques Dutronc. Although he wrote much of his own material, he also covered songs by Lee Hazlewood and Fred Neil. Akin to rock, girl groups, svelte male crooners, and the majority of the era’s teen-oriented sounds in general, yé-yé was widely considered to be of an ephemeral nature, and by extension was basically dominated by the collusion of producers and labels. Not at all part of the yé-yé scene, she was already in her early forties by the time she recorded the original version of “Ma Jeunesse Fout L’Camp” in the early 1960s. Her 1968 album I’m Gonna Be a Country Girl Again didn’t make many waves, but it did include “Take My Hand for a While,” the second Sainte-Marie cover featured on Hardy’s 1972 LP. Bearing a Jones-Brown-Hardy credit, “Fleur de Lune” is not just the LP’s best song, but her best post-1966 recording, period. I started to play on a lot of sessions, and we would go over to England and spend a month here working with people like Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones and Glyn Johns.” It could thus well be that Jones and Brown are playing on the pair of Charles Blackwell-produced mid-‘60s Hardy tracks one or the other wrote, though it’s not certain. [16] In this book, she reflects on old age, her interests and her annoyances. "Femme parmi les femmes" ("Woman among women"), written by, Françoise Hardy canta per voi in italiano, "La tercera edad de un icono del pop francés", "Jacques Dutronc : qui est sa compagne, Sylvie Duval ? This track marked a little-known connection between Hardy and another giant from the era, though from a much different field. The pair collaborated on a few songs in the 1960s, most famously Dusty Springfield’s 1966 megahit “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me.” They co-wrote the English lyrics to Springfield’s version when it was adapted from the Italian original, “Io Che Non Vivo (Senza Te)” (a big 1965 hit in Italy for one of the original co-writers, Pino Donaggio). One such number was his wistful “Your Tender Look,” which was actually the follow-up to “A Picture of You,” though it didn’t do too well in his native UK, peaking at #31. Listen online to Françoise Hardy - Un Air De Guitare and see which albums it appears on. As noted in the entry on “Lonesome Town,” early rock’n’roll was a big formative influence on Françoise. As “Tar and Cement,” it became an unlikely Top 40 hit for Verdelle Smith in 1966, who gave it a treatment combining folk and orchestral pop. Had Hardy done a whole album of Drake songs—including ones, as seems to have been the intention, he hadn’t recorded or would not record on his own—the result might have been one of the more interesting offbeat records of the early 1970s. It was like a Thomas Hardy name, but I’d never read any Thomas Hardy! Unlike any of the songs discussed so far, this isn’t based on any specific previous record or version. In fact, his standing was so high that most singers dreamed of covering one of his songs. One of her first English-language recordings was “Catch a Falling Star,” a #1 hit in America for Perry Como in 1958. Very similar to Fairport Convention in approach (even to the point of featuring a woman singer, Celia Humphris), Trees made little commercial headway before breaking up, though (as a recent cover story in Flashback testifies) they have an enthusiastic cult following today. It seems possible, however, that she based her cover on Brigitte Bardot’s 1964 recording of the song, or at least was aware of Bardot’s version as well. Since Jones, Brown, and Hardy seemed to be working together so well, the obvious next step seems to have been giving Micky and Tommy fuller rein, perhaps via an album for which they’d produce, play on, and write (with and without Françoise) much of the material. I felt just like how I feel when I’ve been in a boutique for some time and dare not leave empty-handed to avoid feeling guilty for getting the sales clerk worked up for nothing. As Hardy and Dutronc were romantic partners for many years starting in the late 1960s, and Dutronc is himself a French star, one might expect them to have collaborated more often. That made it well-suited for an adaptation that could tap into Hardy’s knack for slightly noirish, devious rockers, a la “Le Temps de L’Amour.” In terms of its nervous tempo and Hardy’s coolly reserved vocal, as well as more spy-movie guitar, “On Dit De Lui” outdoes the original. And she’s a better and more interesting singer than Brown, which alone would make it more appealing to the average Françoise fan, though it’s not her most imaginative interpretation. Before rising to fame as a key member of Foreigner, Mick Jones had a surprisingly long and varied career. Ver 1. Acoustic guitars were joined by violins halfway through the song, backing Celentano’s rather operatic delivery—a trait shared by many male Italian singers of that time, and of other eras. Françoise Madeleine Hardy ( French pronunciation: [fʁɑ̃swaz madlɛn aʁdi]; born 17 January 1944) is a French singer-songwriter. Dedicated to her commitents. Hardy did not often cover songs by well-known British or American stars before the late 1960s, and when she did, she sometimes opted for some of their most overlooked tracks. In its original version, “Say It Now” is a classy pop-soul ballad, opening with a stuttering piano figure much like the one kicking off the 1966 Rolling Stones UK B-side “Long Long While.” Skel was white, but many listeners then and now would mistake him for African-American, his singing backed by lilting soulful backup vocalists and a piano-dominated arrangement. Everything sort of happened simultaneously, because I was starting to write and produce my first real songs and Johnny Hallyday was recording some of them, so I got immersed into the studio world and learned how to record and arrange songs. Our French office want you to do another one. On this English version, Françoise omits one verse and, more oddly, sings “some day” instead of the “amen” heard at the end of the choruses in the original. Another highlight of Le Soleil, with another neat descending melody, if not quite on par with “Fleur de Lune.” There’s an urgency to both the vocals and arrangement that was missing on many of her late-‘60s/early-‘70s efforts, as well as nifty hastily strummed acoustic guitar and dancing, jittery rhythms. Alpert’s 45 might be more lushly orchestrated, Françoise’s employing, as was her wont, more acoustic guitar. Great stuff! So how did it make its way to Françoise? By the time Randy Newman put “I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today” on his 1968 debut LP, it had already been recorded by a number of artists, including Judy Collins, Eric Burdon & the Animals, Bobby Darin, and even Chris Barber. The song reached a wider audience when it was included on an album he did with Jane Birkin in 1969, the year they scored an international hit with the notorious “Je T’Aime…Moi Non Plus” (which “L’Anamour” directly followed on that LP). I feel happy when I'm on my bed, in my room with a good book. Whether or not it’s attributable to Dutronc’s influence, the tune has a meandering nature, especially in the middle sections, that works against it sticking in the memory. “[Agent] Lionel Roc suggested I ask Serge Gainsbourg to write the lyrics for it. Il Est Des Choses (French EP, circa early 1966), Original version: Tony Renis (as “Ci Sono Cose Piu Grandi”), 1966. But it wasn’t going to be easy—indeed, it wasn’t going to be possible—to equal the originals. (In fact, it was her biggest single of the 1960s, though of course she had numerous big hit LPs during that decade.) Light drums are added before the expected addition of orchestration after a minute-and-a-half or so. Her interpretation is okay, but not too different or imaginative, and a bit formulaic if there was such a thing on Hardy’s ‘60s records, the expected violins and cloudy-day choral vocals entering after the acoustic guitar-dominated opening sections. C’est Le Passé (French EP, circa mid-1964), Original version: Dusty Springfield (as “Once Upon a Time”), 1963. It’s a strange, tossed-off finish to a decade that had seen so many memorable Hardy covers (as well as many fine tracks Françoise wrote or co-wrote, which are beyond the scope of this article). But upon his arrival, it turned out UA wanted a song not for Hardy, but for Amanda Lear—“quite a different sort of girl. Listening to it again at home, she found that it started to grow on her. The tune’s appealingly melancholy, and Renis doesn’t overdo the opera as much as many of his peers, though there’s some of that in the orchestral climaxes. One of her targets was “Ci Sono Cose Piu Grandi,” by Italian singer Tony Renis. Such was the case with “Only You Can Do It,” which had been a flop single for the Vernons [sic] Girls earlier in 1964. All of which is a fairly far cry from “All Because of You,” the song English and Barkan co-wrote for One-Nine-Seven-Zero. (Thanks to reader Christine for sending information about Anka’s “Sunshine Baby,”  the credits on the back cover when “Avant de T’en Aller” appeared on Hardy’s 1963 EP,  the post on the “Mon amie la rose” site, and the songwriting credits in the sources listed earlier in this paragraph. No artist with the name "Françoise Hardy" This error should never happen if you have clicked on a link in Chordie. Somewhat like the quirky 1970 LP Nilsson Does Newman, it might have brought some attention to a cult singer-songwriter who sorely needed it. That problem becomes more acute on “Who’ll Be the Next in Line,” which actually was much better known in the US (where it became a Top Forty hit) than the Kinks’ UK homeland (where it was only a B-side). It rose to #45 in the Top Hundred in 1960, though I don’t remember it ever being played on oldies radio. Avant de T’En Aller (French EP, December 1963). It’s a little surprising that Hardy found the song, but then, she’d been sniffing out flop singles and little-known foreign sides for her entire career.

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