The rain had stopped and the weather was fine at last, so I left by flat in the Saint-Jean Baptiste district to walk to the Quebec Capitole, for my interview with the monolith of French song. Despite my inexperience in this field (monoliths of French song, I mean), I was peculiarly relaxed, in the expectation of a pleasant, albeit unsurprising evening.
Legend or no, this meeting was likely to be a working session like any other. I watch the show, I listen, and I write. But here, the monolith took me by surprise, for the first of many times.

100.000 Volts

He has an enormous appetite, and suddenly, I feel old at thirty, because the man I have before me radiates the sort of energy I do not possess, regardless of his seventy-one years. In fact, the man with the polka-dot tie could put Hydro-Quebec out of business, for all it generates the electricity for the entire province. "Mr. 100,000 volts" would most certainly have saved us all that black ice last winter if he had been here. I see that the Legend's legend is not exaggerated and that today, the fellow who was the first to set the Olympia in Paris (there is also one in Montreal) by the historic ears with shattered showcases and stalls in smithereens is the very same who is welcomed with open arms by the Quebec city Capitole from October 28 to 31, to be followed by Ottawa on November 2, Granby the 3rd and Laval the 6th.

While he no longer has the fans in a frenzy with "je t'appartiens", he is nevertheless an artist who must not be missed at any cost. And indeed the Quebec tour is sold out, as full up as when he sang at the Comédie Canadienne or Chez Gérard in Quebec, in the good old club days. He even sang in a Montreal-Nord church where "le curé était très sympa" (the priest was great). French singers may be rare in Quebec, but the Toulon crooner seems to want to make us forget the lightning visits of his fellow citizens here for the T-shirt, while touring the Belle Province with their mega-shows…

250 show a year

In Quebec City, the magnificent Capitole theatre is impatient to hear the lion roar and will not hang around for long, especially as the lion himself is difficult to cage in behind his curtain. No sooner has he got on stage than I know I am in for a memorable evening, because the pepsy old boy is generous, funny and extraordinarily on form. For over five decades, he has sailed past fashion and generations at the wheel of a proud galleon with over 250 shows a year and never a shipwreck yet.

I am taking notes with my eyes riveted on the stage. His voice envelops us, powerfully seeking to leave us with its mark, so that all the nooks and crannies of the Capitole will ooze with it and all the stories we love so much in ten years time. After two songs, he goes off to drink a glass of red wine, puff a fag and come back like a kid who has done something naughty. But we forgive him everything as soon as he sings. He likes wine, but one of his songs, Je reviens te chercher has been used recently as the music for an advert for our national drink, milk!! When he heard, he burst out laughing and asked if the message was effective. He doubted whether it would be any good on him: clearly, milk has not been his cup of tea for a long while!

And that's Bécaud, a generous, hugely funny fellow, a true travelling showman who never stops working. Two thousand people came to sing along with him in Le petit oiseau or Le bain de minuit, and to admire as he did the voice of one of his musicians who took the limelight in the highly dramatic song Desperado. He laughs, smokes, drinks, and breaks the audience's glasses once he has emptied them. Then sings, and sings so well that when the curtain falls after hours spent without counting, we hope that he will come back.

He performed at Shawinigan, Trois-Rivières, Abitibi, and Sherbrooke, and everywhere he has been he has given us the same pleasure and a common hope, that of seeing him again in his show. In a few days he will leave our beautiful country for Germany and Australia, to practise his favourite sport (polo), write his new album and prepare a new show.

"When I sing, I'm never ill. When I do nothing, I catch everything." Please don't stop, Mr. Bécaud, because when you sing, we forget that winter is a-coming for six months, and we need your 100,000 volts to warm us up. With his immortal melodies, his sun-soaked accent and his old-world charm, Gilbert Bécaud really gave me a surprise evening. Merci, Mr. Bécaud!

Pascal Evans