The two words that best sum up Gilbert Bécaud's life in music are simply heart and pride. He was a survivor, possessed of a fiery temperament and a generous yet steely will. He belonged to that legendary generation of musical greats - including Brassens, Gréco and Aznavour - whose sheer perseverance, zeal and concentration shook French variety from its torpor and changed it for ever.

Francois Silly was born in southern French town of Toulouse on 24 October, 1927. He never lost his southern accent or his love of the sun and the boisterous world of the markets, of which he would later sing. At the age of 15 he left for Paris, as the Second World War raged. He had already developed a keen eye for pretty girls and suffered his first tragedy: the loss of his father, who had walked out on the family. He joined the Resistance, initially as a go-between, before leaving for the Savoie region with his brother to fight in the Maquis, where his courage did not go unnoticed.

At the end of the war, Bécaud decided on a career in music. He studied the piano at the Conservatory, but found that variety was more to his liking. He started out as an accompanist to the singer Jacques Pills, using his father-in-law's surname Bécaud as his stage name. Bécaud toured the United States with Pills and there discovered a taste for the swing style of Frankie Lane and Johnny Ray. With Pills, he wrote the swing-inspired Je t'ai dans la peau, which they gave to Edith Piaf. This gave Bécaud his first success, while Pills married Piaf.

In 1952, now desperately keen for a stage career, he made his debut at the Petit Trianon de Versailles, wearing a blue polka-dot tie his mother had fashioned from an old dress. His performance was such a success that he never wore any other tie on stage.

Everything took off at the same time. He met up with two great lyricists (Louis Amade and Pierre Delanoé); made his first recording; had his first hit (Mes Mains, sung by Lucienne Boyer); and his first child was born. In April 1954, he starred as an American in a musical by Lucienne Delyle, which played at the newly-opened Olympia on the Boulevard des Capucines. It was a huge success, propelling him a few months later to the top of the bill. He attracted fanatic fans and there were times theatre seats were trashed: Bécaud became a news story in his own right.

Perspiring freely as he sang, thumping away at the piano, shouting into the microphone with one hand covering his ear, displaying an open disdain for the big names of the day, Bécaud became one of the first "angry young men" of French variety. His songs could be sensuous (Mes Mains, Quand tu danses), his sense of God highly personal and anti-clerical (Les Croix, je crois en toi). He sang of the friendships of his generation (L'absence, C'etait mon copain). Delanoé and Amade wrote his lyrics, and Aznavour too contributed a few songs. They wrote first-person lyrics which chimed perfectly with Bécaud's fiery heart and his all-consuming passion for pleasure.

Bécaud's career was built to last. Following his initial flush of success, he quickly found his role, and his persona, mannerisms and repertoire became very much part of the cultural landscape of his times. Ionesco was not a fan, criticising "the banality and stupidity of his lyrics and music, made even worse by his voice which comes not from his head, throat or chest but straight from his belly or large intestine." But Cocteau defended him: "Bécaud has the courage to be excessive. He does what so few people dare to do: he shows himself as he really is, warts and all." Bécaud remembered Cocteau's support and words of encouragement, and on Cocteau's death wrote Quand il est mort le poète in his honour.

Throughout his career, Bécaud retained his way with words and his energy, but took delight in doing the opposite of what his public expected. There were those who took him for a materialist without any soul - until he wrote his Christmas carol L'enfant a l'etoile. He was criticised for being a vulgar, unsubtle musician: so with Amade and Delanoé he wrote L'Opera d'Aran - a blend between classical music and a popular musical. The critics slammed it but the public loved it. He celebrated the Soviet Union with his Nathalie, but also praised General de Gaulle in Tu le regretteras.
When most of the variety singers of his generation suffered a career dip during the pop years of the sixties, Bécaud continued to record and tour. Following his success of the fifties (Je t'appartiens, Alors raconte, Les Marches de Provence, Il fait des bonds, Le jour ou la pluie viendra, Viens danser, Pilou Pilou), he recorded dozens of classics in the sixties (C'etait moi, Et maintenant, Quand Jules est au violon, Les Tantes Jeanne, Le P'tit Oiseau de toutes les couleurs, L'Important c'est la rose, Le Bain de minuit).

Almost every year he performed at the Olympia for weeks on end. Never content to rest on his laurels (by this time he had a large family and fortune, and had been awarded the Legion d'Honneur), he continued to rise to new artistic challenges. These included the adaptation of Emile Ajar's La Vie devant soi into the musical Madame Roza. Directed by Hal Prince, who had previously directed Evita and West Side Story, the production debuted on Broadway on the first of October, 1987, following a successful 150-date tour of the States. But the critics were unsparing and the show was pulled.

Too bad. Bécaud continued to triumph in his tours of France and across the world, as sure as ever of his place in musical history. "There are only three great singers from my generation: Brel, Brassens and Bécaud," he once said. "People have never come to see us to check out what we're wearing. And I'm not going to change now. I'm not going to try and look like Michael Jackson or wear something ridiculous just to amuse the crowd."

He fought for the survival of the Olympia when it was threatened with destruction. He triumphantly inaugurated it when it reopened in 1997, faithfully restored to its original state. It was his thirtieth year of performance at the Olympia. His final fight, however, was against cancer. He declared himself cured in the late nineties, and on his album Faut faire avec he recounted his struggle against cancer with brutal honesty. And he never stopped performing. In 1999 he was again at the Olympia and over the past few months he recorded a new album, entitled Mon Cap, completed just before his death.