I was always intrigued by Jacques Brel's music, but whenever I heard any of it, rendered into English by English-speaking acts, I was usually underwhelmed. I tried hard to like Bowie's renditions of My Death and Amsterdam, but really wasn't very impressed. I find Scott Walker unlistenable, and nor was I grabbed by Marc Almond's versions of Brel - again, another artist I really like. The dreadful Seasons in the Sun didn't do Brel any favours - actually, not true, as its being a huge smash got lots of money flowing into the Brel coffers - and I hated most of Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, which made Brel into twee theatre music. I had to like one homespun attempt at Brel, and the Alex Harvey Band's version of Au Suivant/Next really got into the spirit of the tune. I also like Beirut's version of Le Moribund.
I find Brel's own recordings patchy, but all have moments of sheer brilliance. He is very much of the sixties, I think, though his recording career spans the fifties and seventies
I enjoyed Alan Clayson's book. For a start, he avoids that awful rock journalism style that usually puts me off 'this kind of thing'. He tells Brel's story very economically. He covers all the main points of Brel's life; his dread of becoming one of the bourgeoisie (and ending up in one of his own songs - though in fact he does write himself into several) and joining the family business. His early stabs at writing, and his early successes in Belgium and in France, and the gruelling life he spent on the road for a few years, for a ten-minute spot on a cabaret bill in the middle of nowhere. Clayson shows it all without pathos or sentimentality, and I think Brel would have approved of this aspect of the book.
Brel was not an easy man to get on with, to like, or to love. He wasn't outwardly egotistical on the subject of his genius; I think part of him realised that he was simply a singer of songs in a world that, increasingly, no longer needed them, and that his fame and fortune hung by a thread. With this love-him-or-hate-him character, he attracted only those who were willing to put up with his artistic temperament. He was a bit of a serial monogamist, and yet never left the lives of his long-suffering wife, Miche, nor that of his daughters Chantal and France.
Brel acted in 12 films between 1956 and 1976, and directed one. He was also a sailor and an aviator - had he not become a singer and writer, you feel, he would have been a great success in either of these fields. In his final years, these two particular metiers aided him in truly getting away from it all in the South Sea islands, a bit like Gauguin, and really helped him go where no paparazzi were willing to follow.
Brel still means little in the English-speaking world, and his story shows just how widely he was revered in the French-speaking one, and reminds us that there are other cultures out there that are worthy of investigation.