Répondez Moi (Answer Me), 1981
Many songs in Francis Cabrel’s portfolio resemble musical sketches of people, places and moments. His palette consists of words, voice and melody that evoke the resonance of abandoned towns, social relationships, seasonal moments, and varied human experiences like love, desperation, and alienation.
The two songs “Répondez moi” and “Carte postale” both appeared on Cabrel’s 1981 album “Carte postale.” They represent two sides of the same coin, one a lament by a disaffected individual and the other musing about the fate of a small town. Their melancholy tone reflects the social and economic consequences of major changes that occurred throughout France and elsewhere at the time. Small towns took a major hit with the advent of hypermarkets and transportation arteries that bypassed towns and sucked life out of their centers. The spread of television and other electronic entertainments lowered the boom on social interaction and propagated feelings of disconnection.
“Repondez moi,” featured here, represents a cry (“cri de coeur”) by a lonely, destitute individual to an unnamed recipient (possibly a woman, but anyone/everyone really) whom he addresses impersonally (using “vous” and “vos”). The narrator lives in a house that’s not even a house. Far from his dreams of stars and daffodils, he feels isolated amidst steel and glass towers and roaring trucks, excluded from personal interactions by daily routines and technology that requires passwords for basic human contact, and divorced from nature by plastic bottles and artificial plants and the dearth of even bees and birds.
The song includes 8 stanzas grouped in a Verse-Verse-Refrain/Chorus-Verse-Verse-Refrain/Chorus-Verse-Verse sequence. The two plaintive refrains of “repondez-moi” are followed by nearly identical choruses (beginning “Mon Coeur…”) with a melodic chord progression from the Verses. As usual, Cabrel's verses are flush with robust rhymes. The first and last verses are identical and repeat a description of the narrator’s minimalist living circumstances.
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Je vis dans une maison sans balcon, sans toiture Où y'a même pas d'abeilles sur les pots de confiture Y'a même pas d'oiseaux, même pas la nature C'est même pas une maison J'ai laissé en passant quelques mots sur le mur Du couloir qui descend au parking des voitures Quelques mots pour les grands Même pas des injures, Si quelqu'un les entend Répondez-moi Répondez-moi Mon cœur a peur d'être emmuré entre vos tours de glace Condamné au bruit des camions qui passent Lui qui rêvait de champs d'étoiles, de colliers de jonquilles Pour accrocher aux épaules des filles Mais le matin vous entraîne en courant vers vos habitudes Et le soir, votre forêt d'antennes est branchée sur la solitude Et que brille la lune pleine Que souffle le vent du sud Vous, vous n'entendez pas Et moi, je vois passer vos chiens superbes aux yeux de glace Portés sur des coussins que les maîtres embrassent Pour s'effleurer la main, il faut des mots de passe Pour s'effleurer la main Répondez-moi Répondez-moi Mon cœur a peur de s'enliser dans aussi peu d'espace Condamné au bruit des camions qui passent Lui qui rêvait de champs d'étoiles et de pluie de jonquilles Pour s'abriter aux épaules des filles Mais la dernière des fées cherche sa baguette magique Mon ami, le ruisseau dort dans une bouteille en plastique Les saisons se sont arrêtées aux pieds des arbres synthétiques Il n'y a plus que moi Et moi, je vis dans ma maison sans balcon, sans toiture Où y'a même pas d'abeilles sur les pots de confiture Y'a même pas d'oiseaux, même pas la nature C'est même pas une maison |
I live in a house without balcony, no roof Where there aren’t even bees on the jars of jam Not a bird to be seen, not a hint of nature It’s not even a house I left in passing a few words on the wall Of the corridor that goes down to the car park A few words for the grown-ups Not even insults, If anyone understands them Answer me Answer me My heart fears being walled between your towers of ice Condemned to the noise of passing trucks He who dreamed of fields of stars, of daffodil necklaces To hang around girls’ shoulders But morning sweeps you along, running towards your habits And evenings, your forest of antennae is plugged into solitude And though the full moon may shine Though the south wind may blow You, you don’t hear And me, I see passing your superb icey-eyed dogs Carried on cushions embraced by the masters To touch hands, you need passwords To touch hands Answer me Answer me My heart is afraid of getting stuck in so little space Condemned to the noise of passing trucks He who dreamed of fields of stars and of daffodil showers To shelter itself on the shoulders of girls But the last of the fairies searches for her magic wand My friend, the stream sleeps in a plastic bottle The seasons have ceased at the feet of artificial trees There’s nobody left but me And me, I live in my house with no balcony, no roof Where, there aren’t even bees on the jars of jam Not a bird to be seen, not a hint of nature It’s not even a house |
NB:
- Votre forêt d'antennes: Cabrel captures the symbol of televisions as a metaphor for solitude that he develops in “Carte postale.”
- Que: the use of “que” before a verb means “although” and is one circumstance that calls for a subjunctive verb. In French, the subjunctive is a “mood” with its own conjugations used to express doubt or uncertainty, wishes or desires, opinions or preferences, and hypotheticals.
- S’éffleurer: brush, graze, touch. This is a nice choice of a delicate word to symbolize human contact.
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