Ces Gens Là cover Jacque Brel (Up date with drums)

[Jean Pierre]

UP DATE WITH DRUMS TRACKThat I had forgotten to activate in the rendering


With all due respect. May the good master forgive me....

Ces Gens-là is a song written and performed by Jacques Brel, published in 1966, whose theme is the despair of an impossible love. It is a very dark song.

In "Ces gens-là", Jacques Brel seems to be describing a family to an average person whom he calls "sir".

The description that Jacques Brel makes is, in any case, very dark, very critical. Each member of the family takes for his or her worse in a languid rhythm.

In the original song of Jacques Brel there are only two chords G and Am the song is more spoken than really sung so Brel did not wait for the Americans and the 80's to introduce the Rap or the Slam

I made this song in a "blues" way with a leitmotif played with a funny guitar that belongs to my daughter : it's an electric guitar, brand EASTWOOD with 4 strings, generally tuned like a mandolin or a violin,...it's a guitar a bit like the "cigar box" are made
Picture of this guitar in joint piece



I felt like doing this cover after hearing three great "rock" versions of this song
- by Peter Vanaz on You tube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1T1AVZPQjfA
- by the french band "Ange" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqhD4-FJHR8
- and the french band "Noir Désir" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqwoC_FuUhs


In the YT video version you can read the french lyrics

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4yz_JkmY_I

In the scroll you can read the translation

Firstly, firstly
There's the eldest, he's like a melon
He has a big fat nose
Since he don't know his name no more , Sir
He drinks that much
He drunk so much
He isn't able to do a thing be himself
But he doesn't give a damn
Him who's completely wasted
And thinks he's a king
He's drunk every night
With bad wine
But who can be seen in the morning
Taking a nap in the Church
As stiff as statue
As white as an Easter candle
And then babbling
With void eyes

'Got to tell you Sir,
That these kind of people
They don't think, Sir,
They don't think,
They pray

And then there is the other one
Carrots in his hair
Who never saw a comb
As mean as a rash
He would even give his shirt
To the happy poor
Who married that Denise girl
A girl from the town,
Well, from another town
And this is not all
Who has his little business
With his little hat
With his little overcoat
With his little car
Who'd like to seem respectable
Bun who's not respectable at all
One mustn't pretend to be rich
If one doesn't have a penny to his name

'Got to tell you Sir,
'Got to tell you Sir,
That these kind of people
They don't live, Sir,
They don't live
They cheat

And then there are the others
The mother who doesn't say a word
Or if she says, it's nonsense
And from morning 'till evening
Under the apostle's fine portrait
And in his wooden frame
There's the moustache of the father
Dead from having slipped
Who looks at his flock
Stuffing themselves with the cold soup
And it sounds like (guff)
And it sounds like (guff)

And there's the old granny
Who can't be moved
And whom they'll want to see dead
'Cause she's all loaded
And they don't listen anymore
To what her poor hands have to recount

'Got to tell you Sir,
That these kind of people
They don't speak, Sir,68
They don't speak
They count
But it's late, Sir
I must go home

[StephenM]

wow Jp... j'adore ça... ce slide, cette harpe, cette voix... la basse est géniale... tu l'as fait sortir du parc... c'est un coup de circuit


wow Jp... I love this... that slide, that harp, that voice... the bass is awesome... you knocked this out of the park... it is a home run

[Bluesberry]

Holy moly this is incredible.....I love this very much.....