Stéphane Sanseverino, born in 1962, traces his Italian origins back to his … Read Full Bio ↴Stéphane Sanseverino, born in 1962, traces his Italian origins back to his grandparents, a pair of enterprising Neapolitans who emigrated to France in the 1950s. Stéphane's father, a plumber by trade, chose to work in the paper industry so that he could travel with his family. And thus it was that, between the age of three and sixteen, young Stéphane travelled the world with his parents, sampling the very different cultures of countries such as Bulgaria, New Zealand, Yugoslavia and Mexico.
At the age of twenty, Stéphane decided his future lay on the stage. The only problem was deciding which of his artistic ambitions to concentrate on first: learning the guitar, the banjo or training as an actor. He eventually plumped for the latter and, after taking a course run by the actor Serge Martin, he enrolled at DAL Théâtre for a three-year stint. Here, he mastered the art of Comédia dell’Arte and clowning, and also learnt to play banjo and guitar.
At the age of twenty, Stéphane decided his future lay on the stage. The only problem was deciding which of his artistic ambitions to concentrate on first: learning the guitar, the banjo or training as an actor. He eventually plumped for the latter and, after taking a course run by the actor Serge Martin, he enrolled at DAL Théâtre for a three-year stint. Here, he mastered the art of Comédia dell’Arte and clowning, and also learnt to play banjo and guitar.
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Le petit bal perdu
Sanseverino Lyrics
Ce petit chemin Pour aller à la Préfecture Prends la route numéro trois Tu s…
En sortant de l'école En sortant de l'école Nous avons rencontré Un grand chemin d…
Il Suffirait De Presque Rien Il suffirait de presque rien, Peut-être dix années de moins,…
Johnny tu n'es pas un ange Un, deux Johnny, tu n'es pas un ange Ne crois pas que…
La fille de Londres Un rat est venu dans ma chambre Il a rongé la…
La Java des Bombes Atomiques Mon oncle, un fameux bricoleur Faisait en amateur des bombes…
Le petit bal perdu C'était tout juste après la guerre, Dans un petit bal qu'ava…
Les roses blanches C'était un gamin, un gosse de Paris, Pour famille il n'avait…
Marcel Ce type-là Ce type-là Ce type-là ni son mari ni moi On le…
Route Nationale 7 De toutes les routes de France d'Europe Celle que j'préfère …
Sombre dimanche Sombre dimanche Les bras tout chargés de fleurs Je suis entr…
Supplique pour être enterré sur la plage de Sète La Camarde qui ne m'a jamais pardonné, D'avoir semé des fleu…