Brel was born on 8th April 1929 in Schaarbeek, a district of Brussels, and lived half of his life in Paris. He died of lung cancer on 9th October 1978 in Bobigny in the suburbs of Paris, and is buried in the Marquesas Islands.
Although the Brels spoke French, they were of Flemish descent, with some of the family originating from Zandvoorde, near Ieper. Brel's father was co-owner of a cardboard factory and Brel started his professional life at that firm, apparently destined to follow in his father's footsteps. However he had no interest in it, showing instead an interest in the arts, having joined the Catholic-humanist youth organisation Franche Cordée, where he did some singing and acting. At Franche Cordée he met Thérèse Michielsen ('Miche'), and they married in 1950.
In the early 1950s Brel achieved some minor success in Belgium, singing his own songs. A 78rpm record ("La foire"/"Il y a") was released as a result. From 1954 Brel seriously pursued a singing career. He quit his job and moved to Paris, writing music and singing in the city's cabarets and music-halls.. In January 1955 he supported in the Ancienne Belgique in Brussels the performances of the Belgian pop and variety pioneer Bobbejaan Schoepen. After some success his wife and daughters joined him from Belgium. By 1956 he was touring Europe and he recorded the song "Quand on n'a que l'amour", which brought him his first major recognition. He appeared in a show with Maurice Chevalier and Michel Legrand.
By the end of the 1950s Miche and Brel's three daughters moved to Brussels. He and his family led separate lives from then on. Under the influence of his friend Georges Pasquier ('Jojo') and pianists Gérard Jouannest and François Rauber, Brel's style changed. He was no longer a Catholic-humanist troubadour, but sang grimmer songs about love, death, and the struggle that is life. The music became more complex and his themes more diverse, exploring love ("Je t'aime", "Litanies pour un retour"), society ("Les singes", "Les bourgeois", "Jaurès") and spiritual concerns ("Le bon Dieu", "Dites, si c'était vrai", "Fernand"). His work is not limited to one style. He was as proficient in comic compositions ("Le lion", "Comment tuer l'amant de sa femme...") as in more emotional ones ("Voir un ami pleurer", "Fils de...", "Jojo"). He composed and recorded his songs almost exclusively in French, and is widely recognised in French-speaking countries as one of the best French-language composers of all time.
Brel himself occasionally included parts of his songs in Flemish (Dutch), one of the three official languages of Belgium, as in Marieke. He also recorded eight other Flemish versions of songs, such as Mijn vlakke land (Le plat Pays), Laat Me Niet Alleen (Ne me quitte pas), Rosa, De Burgerij (Les Bourgeois), and De Nuttelozen van de Nacht (Les paumés du petit matin). Since his own command of the language was poor, these were translated by Ernst van Altena, renowned translator of French song. Although France was Brel's "spiritual home" and he expressed contradictory statements about his native Belgium, some of his best compositions pay tribute to Belgium.
A very successful theatrical review of his songs, "Jacques Brel is Alive and Living in Paris," was launched in 1968. It featured English translations of his songs, and it was late made into a film.
To English-speaking listeners, Brel's best-known song is probably "Seasons in the Sun," a hit for Terry Jacks in 1973. Its English lyrics are a translation by Rod McKuen of Brel's "Le Moribond."
For twenty years he was a major star gaining recognition beyond French audiences. In 1973 he retreated to French Polynesia, remaining there until 1977 when he returned to Paris and recorded his well-received final album.
A heavy smoker, it was discovered in 1973 that Brel had lung cancer. He died in 1978 and was buried in Calvary Cemetery in Atuona, Hiva Oa, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia only a few yards away from painter Paul Gauguin.
Les Vieux
Jacques Brel Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Ou alors seulement
Parfois du bout des yeux
Même riches ils sont pauvres
Ils n'ont plus d'illusions
Et n'ont qu'un cœur pour deux
Chez eux, ça sent le thym
Le propre, la lavande
Que l'on vive à Paris
On vit tous en province
Quand on vit trop longtemps
Est-ce d'avoir trop ri
Que leur voix se lézarde
Quand ils parlent d'hier?
Et d'avoir trop pleuré
Que des larmes encore
Leur perlent aux paupières?
Et s'ils tremblent un peu
Est-ce de voir vieillir
La pendule d'argent
Qui ronronne au salon
Qui dit oui, qui dit non
Qui dit "je vous attends"
Les vieux ne rêvent plus
Leurs livres s'ensommeillent
Leurs pianos sont fermés
Le petit chat est mort
Le muscat du dimanche
Ne les fait plus chanter
Les vieux ne bougent plus
Leurs gestes ont trop de rides
Leur monde est trop petit
Du lit à la fenêtre
Puis du lit au fauteuil
Et puis du lit au lit
Et s'ils sortent encore
Bras dessus, bras dessous
Tout habillés de raide
C'est pour suivre au soleil
L'enterrement d'un plus vieux
L'enterrement d'une plus laide
Et le temps d'un sanglot
Oublier toute une heure
La pendule d'argent
Qui ronronne au salon
Qui dit oui, qui dit non
Et puis qui les attend
Les vieux ne meurent pas
Ils s'endorment un jour
Et dorment trop longtemps
Ils se tiennent la main
Ils ont peur de se perdre
Et se perdent pourtant
Et l'autre reste là
Le meilleur ou le pire
Le doux ou le sévère
Cela n'importe pas
Celui des deux qui reste
Se retrouve en enfer
Vous le verrez peut-être
Vous le verrez parfois
En pluie et en chagrin
Traverser le présent
En s'excusant déjà
De n'être pas plus loin
Et fuir devant vous
Une dernière fois
La pendule d'argent
Qui ronronne au salon,
Qui dit oui, qui dit non,
Qui leur dit "je t'attends"
Qui ronronne au salon,
Qui dit oui, qui dit non
Et puis qui nous attend
The lyrics of Jacques Brel's song Les Vieux (The Old) touch upon the theme of old age and its effects on individuals. The first stanza describes how the elderly no longer speak much, and if they do, it is only through their eyes that they communicate. Even the rich are poor at this stage of their lives, as they have no more illusions left, and they possess only one heart to share between them. The old smell of thyme, cleanliness, and lavender, and they speak in an old style of language, which reminds people of the past. Although one might live in Paris, living long enough means living in the province.
The second stanza delves deeper into the effects of aging on the old. Jacques Brel questions why their voices crack when reminiscing about the past or why they still shed tears when they try not to. He also wonders if their slight trembling is due to the awareness of their time growing short, heard through the ticking of the silver clock, which says yes or no to life and beckons their arrival. The old no longer dream, their books and pianos are silent, and their pets have died, as their time is now filled with fits of sneezing and coughing, and the Sunday muscat no longer inspires singing. They are confined to a small world that ranges between bed and chair's monotony, interrupted only by the occasional funeral.
Line by Line Meaning
Les vieux ne parlent plus
Elderly people don't talk anymore
Ou alors seulement
Or only rarely
Parfois du bout des yeux
Sometimes with just a glance
Même riches ils sont pauvres
Even if they're rich, they're poor
Ils n'ont plus d'illusions
They no longer have any illusions
Et n'ont qu'un cœur pour deux
And only have one heart for two people
Chez eux, ça sent le thym
At their home, it smells of thyme
Le propre, la lavande
Freshness, lavender
Et le verbe d'antan
And the verbs of a time long gone
Que l'on vive à Paris
Whether you live in Paris
On vit tous en province
We all live in a small world
Quand on vit trop longtemps
When we live for too long
Est-ce d'avoir trop ri
Is it from laughing too much
Que leur voix se lézarde
That their voice cracks
Quand ils parlent d'hier?
When they talk about yesterday?
Et d'avoir trop pleuré
And from crying too much
Que des larmes encore
That tears still
Leur perlent aux paupières?
Stream down their faces?
Et s'ils tremblent un peu
And if they tremble a little
Est-ce de voir vieillir
Is it from seeing themselves age
La pendule d'argent
The silver clock
Qui ronronne au salon
That purrs in the living room
Qui dit oui, qui dit non
That says yes, that says no
Qui dit "je vous attends"
That says, "I'm waiting for you"
Les vieux ne rêvent plus
The elderly no longer dream
Leurs livres s'ensommeillent
Their books become sleepy
Leurs pianos sont fermés
Their pianos are closed
Le petit chat est mort
The little cat is dead
Le muscat du dimanche
Sunday's muscat
Ne les fait plus chanter
No longer makes them sing
Les vieux ne bougent plus
The elderly no longer move
Leurs gestes ont trop de rides
Their movements have too many wrinkles
Leur monde est trop petit
Their world is too small
Du lit à la fenêtre
From the bed to the window
Puis du lit au fauteuil
And then from the bed to the armchair
Et puis du lit au lit
And then from the bed to the bed again
Et s'ils sortent encore
And if they still go out
Bras dessus, bras dessous
Arm in arm
Tout habillés de raide
All stiffly dressed
C'est pour suivre au soleil
It's to follow in the sun
L'enterrement d'un plus vieux
The funeral of an older person
L'enterrement d'une plus laide
The funeral of an uglier person
Et le temps d'un sanglot
And for the time of a sob
Oublier toute une heure
To forget for an entire hour
Les vieux ne meurent pas
The elderly do not die
Ils s'endorment un jour
They fall asleep one day
Et dorment trop longtemps
And sleep for too long
Ils se tiennent la main
They hold hands
Ils ont peur de se perdre
They are afraid of losing each other
Et se perdent pourtant
And yet still lose each other
Et l'autre reste là
And the other stays there
Le meilleur ou le pire
The best or the worst
Le doux ou le sévère
The gentle or the harsh
Cela n'importe pas
It doesn't matter
Celui des deux qui reste
The one who remains
Se retrouve en enfer
Finds themselves in hell
Vous le verrez peut-être
You may see it yourself
Vous le verrez parfois
You may see it sometimes
En pluie et en chagrin
In rain and in sorrow
Traverser le présent
Moving through the present
En s'excusant déjà
Already apologizing
De n'être pas plus loin
For not being further along
Et fuir devant vous
And flee from you
Une dernière fois
One last time
Qui ronronne au salon,
That purrs in the living room,
Qui dit oui, qui dit non,
That says yes, that says no,
Qui leur dit "je t'attends"
That says to them, "I'm waiting for you"
Qui ronronne au salon,
That purrs in the living room,
Qui dit oui, qui dit non
That says yes, that says no
Et puis qui nous attend
And then awaits us
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: Gerard Jouannest, Jacques Roman Brel, Jean Corti
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Mary M. Brandes
on La Valse à Mille Temps
I love Jacques Brel songs.