“Bahia” (The Bay), 1972
Album: “Amoureuse”
“Bahia” is a song that was included on Véronique Sanson’s first album in 1972: “Amoureuse.” Bahia is an administrative region (state) in the northeast region of Brazil. The word itself means “bay,” or an inward bend of a long coastline. Its capital Salvador was the first capital city of Brazil, founded in 1549. During slave-trading days, it was the place of first debarkation for many Africans from the west coast of Africa. The region has been the birthplace of many artists, writers and musicians and is home to important colonial architecture, sacred art and a Carnival that rivals Rio de Janeiro, so the word has an associative connotation that conveys a mystical quality.
Sanson had never been to Bahia, but the melody and words of her song have a dreamy quality that provide the next best experience. Brazil and Brazilian music (especially bossa nova) were circulating in France about this time and likely engaged her attention. Henri Salvador (1917-2008), a French Caribbean singer, musician and TV personality in Paris, has been widely credited as a precursor of Jobim’s formulation of bossa nova (new wave) during the 1960s, blending samba and cool jazz. As mentioned elsewhere on this website, in 1966 Pierre Barouh performed a musical track called “Samba Saravah” in Claude LeLouche’s famous film “Un homme et une femme” (A Man and a Woman). That track was adapted from original music (“Samba de Bencao”) composed by Brazilian musicians Baden Powell (guitarist) and Vinicius de Moraes (lyricist for “The Girl from Ipenema”). LeLouche's film won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes festival and had an indelible impact on the penetration of “bossa nova” sound in France and Europe. In 1969, Barouh returned to Brazil and filmed a documentary called Saravah, Georges Moustaki visited Brazil and translated Brazilian songs into French, and in 1968 Baden Powell relocated to France. Such was the environment in which Véronique conceived the song “Bahia.”
This is a very short, 3-verse song that lasts barely a couple of minutes, but it is a pleasant “bagatelle,” especially since it illuminates musical linkages at the time between France and Brazil. It is an alluring invitation to visit Bahia, far away from Parisian accordions and rainy days, with promises of beaches, love and caresses. The rhymes are both internal and end-of-line. For example, in the first two lines of the first stanza, the words plaît, voudrais and aller all rhyme within the space of a few words. The fourth and fifth lines shift to end-of-line rhymes with “l’avion” and “accordéons.” In the third verse, lines 2&3 and 4&5 rhyme end-of line. Whatever works.
S'il te plaît Je voudrais aller à Bahia Je l'ai bien vu dans la lampe d'Aladin Je retiendrai deux places dans l'avion Très loin du son des accordéons Et je t'aime Caresse-moi Le matin On ira voir l'eau de Bahia Il n'y a pas d'ouragan c'est un mot paien Les jours de pluie ça n'existe pas Les jours de pluie ne reviendront pas Et je t'aime Caresse-moi Instrumental Tour à tour L'eau sauvage et l'eau vagabonde Viendront faire près de toi leur chemin de ronde Les jours de pluie qu'est-ce que ça veut dire Les jours de pluie ça me fait bien rire Et je t'aime Caresse-moi |
Please I'd like to go to Bahia I saw it in Aladdin's lamp I'll book two seats on a flight Far away from the sound of accordions And I love you Hold me In the morning We'll see Bahia's waters There's no hurricanes that's a pagan word Rainy days don't exist Rainy days will never come back And I love you Hold me Instrumental One after another Savage and wandering water Will come to you in its round path Rainy days, what does that even mean? Rainy days, how they make me laugh And I love you Hold me |
NB:
- “loin du son des accordéons:” this is a reference to France and its accordions.
- “paien:” this word means “heathen” or “pagan” and has little meaning in the context of the song but has the virtue of rhyming somewhat with “Bahia.”
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