photo: claude truong-ngoc · cc by-sa 3.0 ↗Serge Gainsbourg spent three decades restlessly working through nearly every genre French pop could hold — chanson, yé-yé, funk, reggae, disco — welding literate, often filthy wordplay to melodies borrowed as readily from Chopin and Dvořák as from American jazz. He turned scandal into a career strategy, from the heavy breathing of 'Je t'aime... moi non plus' to the incest-baiting title of a duet with his own daughter, and by his death in 1991 he'd become one of the most influential songwriters in French pop, sampled and covered across every genre that followed. His catalog reads less like a discography than a running argument that pop music could be disposable and genuinely literary at once.
Gainsbourg said seeing Boris Vian perform at the cabaret Milord l'Arsouille was the moment he decided he could 'do something in this minor art' — Vian, already a novelist and jazz trumpeter treating pop songwriting as a legitimate showcase for wit and provocation, gave Gainsbourg permission to abandon painting for pop. Vian went on to personally champion Gainsbourg's breakthrough single in print, a direct hand extended from mentor to protégé.
listen forPlay Vian's own deadpan, satirical 'Le Déserteur' against Gainsbourg's 'Le Poinçonneur des Lilas' — both take a plain, almost bureaucratic character (a deserting soldier, a bored metro ticket-puncher) and let a light, conversational vocal delivery carry a much darker undertow.
As a classically trained pianist, Gainsbourg drew on 'great music, from Chopin to Dvořák' as raw material throughout his career, most literally on 'Lemon Incest,' whose melody is Chopin's Étude Op. 10, No. 3, nicknamed 'Tristesse,' slowed into a spoken-sung pop cadence.
listen forPlay the opening theme of the Étude Op. 10, No. 3 straight into 'Lemon Incest' — it's the same melodic line note for note, a direct lift rather than a loose echo.
Gainsbourg's habit of raiding 'great music, from Chopin to Dvořák' reached its most direct expression on his 1968 ode to Brigitte Bardot, 'Initials B.B.,' which builds its entire orchestral hook directly from the first movement of Dvořák's Symphony No. 9 'From the New World.'
listen forListen for the surging string-and-brass theme from the first movement of the New World Symphony, then hear it reappear almost unchanged as the pounding orchestral riff that opens and drives 'Initials B.B.'