No Regrets - Carolyn Burke [13]
It is likely that Line knew Fréhel, the notorious chanteuse réaliste, who was also in Turkey during these years. Judging by Line’s repertoire, which included songs first popularized by Fréhel, she modeled her act on that of the better-known performer—a savvy choice, even though Fréhel had long been famous for her drug-addled personal life. Line’s return to Paris at the time when Fréhel was making her comeback there helped establish Piaf’s mother as a chanteuse réaliste for those who could not afford to hear Fréhel at the music-halls (variety theaters) but came instead to dance at the kind of neighborhood joint where Line was singing the night of the Gassion family reunion.
One wonders whether Edith talked to her mother about their métier, whether Line shared with her daughter the secrets of their unpredictable trade. Chanson-réaliste lyrics, the most important part of the song, were usually sorrowful, the music in a minor key. Given that much of this material was in the same vein, it was important to choose songs that corresponded to one’s “type,” the persona a singer created for her audience. And since listeners liked to feel connected to their favorites, it was not enough to know your type: you had to play the part as if it meshed with your existence. It was said of the best interpreters of this tradition—Fréhel, Damia, and soon Piaf herself—that they sang the way they lived, their songs came from the heart. (The extent to which they consciously sustained this perception went unnoticed.)
If Edith had studied her mother’s repertoire, she would have formed certain ideas about her. Line became known for her version of “La Valse en mineur,” a dark Fréhel tune described as a valse réaliste. The lyrics evoke a neighborhood dance hall where young toughs spin their girls to the sounds of an accordion. Songs of this kind reflected the hopes of the working-class audiences that flocked to the bals-musettes for moments of happiness, at the same time hinting that such moments were all the more precious because of their brevity.
“La Valse en mineur” was bittersweet in its allusions to fleeting pleasures; “La Coco,” another Fréhel song in Line’s repertoire, was downright disturbing. The singer, in search of her unfaithful lover, consoles herself with champagne, morphine, and cocaine (the coco of the title), then, one night, finding him with another, stabs him in the heart. Since then she has only “la coco” to turn to: “Je veux de la coco / Ça trouble mon cerveau / L’esprit s’envole / Près du Seigneur / Mon amant du coeur / M’a rendue folle.” (“I want cocaine / It troubles my brain / My soul flies apart / Closer to God / The love of my heart / Has driven me mad.”) This noir tale of love’s (and cocaine’s) ravages hinted at Line’s addiction, a maternal heritage that Piaf would find hard to bear.
Not all chansons réalistes are as doleful as “La Valse en mineur” or as dark as “La Coco,” but the actor Michel Simon, who began his career in a bal-musette where Line was performing, remembered her singing only the saddest songs in the repertoire. Her low, plaintive voice failed to please listeners, who wanted something brighter. Yet Line did not lack talent, Herbert Gassion believed. Within a few years’ time, when Edith auditioned at one of the nightspots where Line had appeared, the manager said to come back when she could sing as well as her mother. Herbert concluded that