The delinquent figure in the early songs of Renaud

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Le Zonard déchaîné”

The delinquent figure in the early songs of Renaud


James Matthew Cannon B.A. (Hons)
A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in the Department of History, Faculty of Arts, University of Melbourne
October 1999


Acknowledgments iii

Declaration of Authorship iv

Abstract v
Introduction 1
Chapter 1: May 1968: “La Pègre, on en est” 5
Chapter 2: 1969-1974: “Amoureux de Paname” 23
Chapter 3: 1975-1980: “Le Zonard déchaîné” 56
Conclusion 102
Bibliography 110


I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to:
My supervisor, Assoc. Prof. Charles O. Sowerwine, whose intellectual rigour, professional integrity and personal warmth made this thesis possible.
My associate supervisor, Prof. Peter McPhee, for his generous enthusiasm and insightful comments.
The subject of this thesis, Renaud, for his hospitality, a wealth of primary sources and frank, reflective responses to my sometimes obtuse questions.
The University of Melbourne and its administrative staff for providing me with a Melbourne Research Scholarship.
My family and friends for their steadfast encouragement and support: in particular, Kerry Cannon, for editorial advice and for being the most resonant of sounding-boards; Sarah Cannon, for numerous and invaluable reference books; Patrick Cannon, for all manner of technical support; and Michael Cannon for providing me with a computer.
Dr. George Christie, Dr. Ann Morgan and Dr. Josephine Beatson for their wisdom and compassion.

Declaration of Authorship

I, James Matthew Cannon, declare that this thesis comprises only my original work, except where due acknowledgment has been made in the text to all other materials used. This thesis does not exceed 30,000 words in length, exclusive of bibliographies, footnotes and appendices.
Signature: .................................................... Date: ..........................


This thesis seeks to understand the significance of the delinquent figure in the early songs of Renaud. Renaud conceived this figure during May 1968, when the radical, predominantly middle-class student movement to which he belonged found an unlikely ally in the blousons noirs, young delinquents from the suburban housing estates of outer Paris. The violence and visceral antiauthoritarianism of the blousons noirs appealed to students whose exclusion from traditional, authoritarian working-class institutions precipitated their quest for a revolutionary identity. The contempt which both the French Government and Communist Party expressed towards the “underworld” incarnated by the blousons noirs made the latter seem even more alluring to many student revolutionaries. During the first half of the 1970s, Renaud immersed himself in the marginal culture of a group of delinquents whom he befriended at a Latin Quarter bar. Here he also rediscovered the old-fashioned genre of chanson réaliste (realist song) which portrayed the delinquents of a bygone era, that of the Belle Epoque and interwar years. After reviving the realist classics and writing a number of original songs in a similar style, Renaud reinvented the realist genre during the second half of the 1970s by singing about zonards (latter-day equivalents of the blousons noirs) in their own language. He established a place for these zonards in the realm of popular culture, liberating them from stereotypical images disseminated by the media and unleashing them, figuratively, upon bourgeois audiences. This dual aspect of Renaud’s oeuvre was encapsulated in a concert program which he wrote to accompany his recital at the Bobino music hall in March 1980, a whimsical pastiche of the satirical newspaper Le Canard enchaîné entitled “Le Zonard déchaîné” (“The Unchained Delinquent”). The delinquent figure in Renaud’s songs represented both a topical cause célèbre and a way of preserving the heritage of May 1968.

for Dr. George Christie
Despairing of ever taking part in a revolution which we could call our own, we spoke about our quest for action in delinquent mode.
Serge July, quoted by Hervé Hamon and Patrick Rotman, Génération: 2. Les Années de poudre
renaud n.m. 1. Colère (anger) . . . Être à renaud, être en colère (to be angry). Mettre à renaud ou en renaud, irriter (to irritate). Monter au renaud, se mettre en colère (to get angry) . . . 2. Esclandre, tapage (scene, scandal) . . . Chercher du renaud, chercher querelle (to pick a quarrel).

ÉTYM. déverbal de renauder. - 1. vers 1673 [Esnault]. Être à renaud, 1885 [Chautard]. Mettre à renaud, 1844 [Dict. complet]; mettre en renaud, 1886 [Esnault]. - 2. 1798 [bandits d’Orgères]. Chercher du renaud, 1883, Macé [Esnault].
Jean-Paul Colin, Jean-Pierre Mével, Christian Leclère, Dictionnaire de l’argot


Over the past twenty-five years, French singer-songwriter Renaud has emerged as his country’s leading exponent of chanson sociale, a rich and diverse tradition of popular song which has helped to rally, educate and galvanise dispossessed groups in French society since the first half of the nineteenth century. Renaud became well-known in the second half of the 1970s by singing about zonards (delinquent youths) from the housing estates of suburban Paris. Since then, he has tackled a range of themes, from military service and heroin addiction to the destruction of the environment and capitalist imperialism in the Third World. His repertoire includes love songs, chansons idiotes (a comical, risqué genre), traditional chansons réalistes from the Belle Epoque and interwar years, and songs by his idol, Georges Brassens.1 He has produced a series of charmingly naive illustrations to accompany his own songs. He has also performed as an actor, most notably in the role of Etienne Lantier, in Claude Berry’s 1993 screen adaptation of Zola’s Germinal. He has written a children’s book entitled La Petite vague qui avait le mal de mer (1989) as well as a regular column for the satirical, left-wing weekly, Charlie-Hebdo. An outspoken supporter of numerous minority causes, he recently joined the Régions et Peuples Solidaires list led by the Corsican autonomist Max Simeoni at the 1994 European elections.
Renaud is known primarily for the provocative anarchism and linguistic inventiveness which characterise his songwriting. He has roused the ire of politicians on both the Left and the Right. Some of his songs have been banned outright; others have simply been given little or no airplay. However, he has achieved spectacular commercial and critical success. By 1981, his album sales generated 45% of Polydor’s annual profits.2 His lyrics are studied in university French departments all over the world and were extensively used as a primary source by the authors of the Dictionnaire de l’argot, published by Larousse in 1990.3 His songs have been turned into bandes dessinées (comic books) by the leading exponents of the genre.4 Thirty-one per cent of respondents to a Sofres-Le Nouvel observateur survey conducted among 16 to 22 year-olds during the student demonstrations of December 1986 chose Renaud from a list of public personalities as their preferred role model.5 Courted by the French Socialist Party and feted by the former Minister for Culture Jack Lang, Renaud has nonetheless been reviled by a number of left as well as right-wing intellectuals, for whom his success exemplifies the decline of high culture and the dumbing down of French youth.6
This thesis seeks to understand the significance of the delinquent figure in Renaud’s early songs, from the heady days of May 1968 to his consecration as a popular star at the end of the 1970s. These songs were shaped by the confluence of various factors, including Renaud’s family background, his experiences as a student revolutionary in May 1968, the marginal social circles which he frequented during the early 1970s and his fortuitous exposure to a range of popular music styles. They offer a detailed and frequently controversial account of contemporary issues while providing a fascinating insight into the itinerary of a former soixante-huitard (participant in the May 1968 movement).
Renaud’s description of himself as a “writer for pleasure, composer by necessity, singer by provocation,” while intentionally facetious, contains an element of truth.7 Like the working-class chansonniers (social songwriters) of the nineteenth century, he has used popular song primarily as a vehicle to convey verbal messages. My analysis therefore emphasises the thematic and linguistic content of Renaud’s lyrics. I discuss other aspects of his art, such as musical and performance styles, when these add to the thematic significance of the songs. I also discuss, where possible, public reactions to Renaud’s songs; however, as Peter Hawkins rightly states, “a thoroughgoing sociological study of the reception of chanson by different milieux . . . would be enormously expensive in terms of resources and man-hours, and well beyond the means of the individual researcher.”8
Renaud’s lyrics have been published in several collections. The first collection, now out of print, was published by Gérard Lebovici at Les Editions Champs Libre in 1980, under the title Sans zikmu. Les Editions du Seuil published a new collection in 1986 entitled Mistral gagnant: Chansons et dessins, which they incorporated two years later into an expanded edition, Le Temps des noyaux, suivi de Mistral gagnant: Chansons et dessins. The most recent collection was published by Livre de Poche in 1993 under the title Dès que le chant soufflera. The lyrics reproduced in this thesis are from Le Temps des noyaux; the translations are my own. I have tried where possible to capture the general flavour of Renaud’s style, although many of his songs contain cultural references, rhymes and word games which cannot be easily rendered in English. I have provided explanatory notes where necessary.
Most of the details concerning Renaud’s personal life are drawn from three authorised biographies by Jacques Erwan (1982), Régis Lefèvre (1985) and Renaud’s older brother Thierry Séchan (1989), and from interviews with Renaud conducted by Laurent Boyer for M6 television in 1991 and by myself in February 1992. There has been little scholarly work published on Renaud. Heinrichs Volkhard has written a short textual analysis of one song, Les Charognards, and Christian Schmitt has explored the social dimensions of Renaud’s songwriting through a linguistic study of another song, Dans mon HLM. French linguist and popular song theorist Louis-Jean Calvet has written a number of articles on Renaud’s contribution to the spoken French idiom. A great deal has also been written about Renaud in the French musical press.9 Quotations from French secondary sources are translated into English in the main body of this thesis and reproduced in their original form in the footnotes.

Chapter 1
May 1968: “La pègre, on en est”10

By the time the first barricades appeared in the Latin Quarter on 3 May 1968, Renaud was a precociously militant fifteen year-old. Born Renaud Pierre Manuel Séchan on 11 May 1952, along with his twin brother, he grew up in a large family at the Porte d’Orléans, on the southern edge of central Paris. His mother belonged to a working-class family from the mining region of northern France and worked in a factory until she married. His father belonged to a cultivated, if financially modest, Protestant family from the Montpellier region and was a translator, teacher and successful author. Despite their different backgrounds, Renaud’s parents were both left-wing and shared a strong sense of social justice. He later recalled: “As far back as I can remember, my parents always discussed politics at home, were always left-wing and were constantly exasperated by the news of the world.”11
Renaud was particularly attached to his maternal grandfather, who had started work as a coal miner after leaving school at the age of thirteen. A self-educated, card-carrying communist, Renaud’s grandfather visited the Soviet Union during the 1930s, a disillusioning experience which led him to leave the party upon his return. He also worked in a Parisian factory and was active in the anarcho-syndicalist movement. Renaud fondly remembered his grandfather in the song Oscar (1981):
L’avait fait 36 le Front populaire

Pi deux ou trois guerres pi Mai 68

Il avait la haine pour les militaires

J’te raconte même pas c’qu’y pensait des flics

Il était marxiste tendance Pif le chien

Syndiqué à mort inscrit au parti

Nous traitait d’fainéants moi et mes frangins

Parc’qu’on était anars tendance patchouli

Il était balaise fort comme un grand frère

Les épaules plus larges que sa tête de lit

Moi qui suis musclé comme une serpillière

Ben de c’côté-là j’tiens pas beaucoup d’lui
L’avait sur l’bras gauche un super tatouage

Avec un croissant d’lune et une fleur coupée

La couleur s’était barrée avec l’âge

Il avait l’bleu pâle d’un jean délavé

Quand j’allais chez lui des fois d’temps en temps

J’lui roulais ses clopes avec son tabac gris

Pi j’restais des heures avec des yeux tout grands

A l’écouter m’baratiner sa vie

He’d fought in 36, the Popular Front

Then two or three wars and May 68

He hated military types

Don’t even ask what he thought about the cops

He was a Marxist from the Groucho school

A die-hard unionist and a party member

He used to call me and my brothers lazybones

’Cause we were anarchists from the patchouli school

He was built like an ox, strong like a big brother

His shoulders were broader than his bedhead

I’m a puny runt

In that respect at least I don’t resemble him much
He had a great tattoo on his left arm

With a crescent moon and a cut flower

The colour had faded with age

It was pale blue, like a pair of stone-washed jeans

Now and then, when I went to his place

I’d roll his smokes for him with his shag

And I’d spend hours listening wide-eyed

To the stories he told me about his life
Renaud gained his first direct experience of political activism within the ranks of the anti-war and anti-nuclear movements of the mid-1960s. In 1965, he joined the Comités Vietnam de Base, organised in response to the first American bombings in Vietnam. In 1966, he took part in his first protest march with the Mouvement Contre l’Armement Atomique. In September 1967, he enrolled at the Lycée Michel Montaigne, where he helped to establish a Comité Vietnam and one of the many Comités d’Action Lycéen (CAL) which began to proliferate throughout Paris at the end of that year. He brawled with right-wing students from school and from the neighbouring Law Faculty of the Sorbonne. In the months leading up to May 1968, he acquainted himself with the authors of nineteenth-century revolutionary theory, including Bakunin, Stirner, Proudhon and Marx. Under the influence of charismatic Maoist friends, he read The Little Red Book and briefly joined the Parti Communiste Marxiste-Léniniste Français (PCMLF) as well as the Amitiés Franco-Chinoises. He participated in factory expeditions organised by these Maoist formations, whose attempts to provide workers with material and moral support were generally greeted with overt contempt. Jacques Erwan writes that Renaud himself soon became fed up with the Maoists’ “extreme intellectualism” and “demagogic promotion of worker power.”12 In May 1968, Renaud realigned himself with the anarchists.
Renaud’s involvement in the May events stemmed initially from a simple desire to express his solidarity with the students who had been beaten up by CRS riot police. On 11 May 1968, he spent his sixteenth birthday fighting under the black flag on the barricades of the Latin Quarter. After students occupied the Sorbonne two days later, he made himself useful by sweeping up the university courtyard. He sold revolutionary newspapers such as Action and L’Enragé by day and camped inside the university grounds by night. He joined the Comité Révolutionnaire d’Agitation Culturelle (CRAC) before forming a splinter group with two friends which they baptised the Groupe Gavroche Révolutionnaire.13
The diminutive hero of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables (1862) was an apt role model for the young soixante-huitards. Gavroche dies a martyr’s death while fighting on the barricades of a popular insurrection. As an independent street urchin with tenuous family ties, he personifies something of the soixante-huitards’ quest to liberate themselves from their parents’ generation. In his capacity as a homeless child who roams from the outskirts of Paris through the city’s inner districts, imposing his mark in a rowdy, humorous and festive manner, he asserts his “right to the city,” to borrow the title of Henri Lefebvre’s influential book, in a way replicated by the soixante-huitards during their occupation of the Sorbonne and the Odéon Theatre, their protest marches down the Champs-Elysées and the carnivalesque euphoria which characterised their revolt.14 Most importantly, Gavroche sings throughout his adventures:
Who had written these verses which Gavroche sang as he walked along, and all the other songs which he happily chanted from time to time? Who knows? Himself, perhaps? Gavroche knew all the popular refrains around and combined them with his own warbling.15
Like Gavroche, Renaud turned to popular song to shape his experience of the world. He had inherited from his father a passion for the anarchistic songs of Georges Brassens and set his first lyrics, which he wrote at the age of nine or ten, to music by “Tonton Georges.” Brassens’s highly literary style belied his identification with, and celebration of, all manner of social outcasts. Although he adopted a somewhat detached position in relation to the May events, his influence on Renaud was greater than that of any other songwriter.16 Renaud was also a fan of Johnny Hallyday, the first singer to Frenchify rock and roll in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Hallyday’s music became a catalyst for the emergence of French youth as a distinct social class in the years leading up to the explosive events of May 1968. Renaud was further inspired by contemporary protest singers who revived the folk tradition of Depression-era America to attack the Vietnam War, racism, consumerism and the paternalistic, authoritarian aspects of post-war capitalist society. Hugues Aufray and Graeme Allwright introduced French audiences to le protest-song in the mid-1960s by translating or adapting Bob Dylan’s songs into French. The simplicity of American-style folk music meant that it could be reproduced by anyone who had learnt a handful of chords on an acoustic guitar. Although the genre was rapidly commercialised, it enabled an entire generation of teenagers like Renaud to express themselves directly through song. Finally, students in May 1968 resurrected a home-grown tradition of protest song. They adapted the lyrics of revolutionary classics like Ça ira and La Carmagnole to reflect contemporary events and defiantly chanted the hymn of the working-class movement, L’Internationale, on numerous occasions. Written by Eugène Pottier in June 1871 in response to the brutal repression of the Paris Commune and set to music by Pierre Degeyter seventeen years later, L’Internationale resonated deeply with the students’ aspirations. It announced in heroic, messianic tones the imminent collapse of the bourgeois social order and the birth of an international brotherhood of workers united by the core ideals of cooperation and self-determination:
Debout les damnés de la terre

Debout les forçats de la faim

La raison tonne en son cratère

C’est l’éruption de la fin

Du passé faisons table rase

Foules, esclaves, debout, debout

Le monde va changer de base

Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout
C’est la lutte finale

Groupons-nous, et demain


Sera le genre humain

Arise, ye pris’ners of starvation

Arise, ye wretched of the earth

For Justice thunders condemnation

A better world’s in birth

No more tradition’s chains shall bind us

Arise ye slaves no more in thrall

The earth shall rise on new foundations

We have been naught, we shall be all
’Tis the final conflict

Let each stand in their place

The International Union

Shall be the human race17
Renaud was inspired to write his first protest song, Crève salope! after meeting Evariste, a university lecturer turned songwriter and the first artist to record under the auspices of the CRAC. Accompanying himself on guitar, Renaud performed the song for an audience gathered in one of the Sorbonne’s lecture theatres. Crève salope! is a ferocious parable of the May events which follows the itinerary of a young rebel as he confronts a series of emblematic authority figures, starting with his father:
Je v’nais de manifester au Quartier.

J’arrive chez moi fatigué, épuisé,

mon père me dit: Bonsoir fiston, comment qu’ça va?

J’ui réponds: Ta gueule sale con, ça te regarde pas!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève salope!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève charogne!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève poubelle!

VLAN! une beigne!

I’d just been demonstrating in the Latin Quarter.

I arrived home totally exhausted,

my father says, “Good evening junior, and how are we?”

I go, “Shut your face, jerk, and mind your own business!”

And I said, “Die, bastard!”

And I said, “Die, arsehole!”

And I said, “Die, shithead!”

WHAM! Biffed!
The terms “charogne,” which literally means “carrion,” and “poubelle,” which literally translates as “rubbish bin,” constitute a forceful attack on paternal authority with their associations of putrefaction and obsolescence. On a personal level, these lines could be read as a challenge to Renaud’s own father who, despite having instilled in his son a healthy dose of antiauthoritarianism, refused during this period to allow him to sit at the family table because of his long hair. On a broader level, they give credence to the theory that powerful Oedipal forces were at play during the May events.18 The sudden eruption of paternal violence in the last line can be associated with the punitive attitude of the CRS and of the Gaullist regime as a whole.
The narrator – and by extension French youth – appears initially to be simply spoiling for a fight, but the fourth verse suggests that his virulence stems in part from feelings of abandonment and despair. He explains that after being expelled from school:
Je m’suis r’trouvé dans la rue, abandonné,

j’étais complètement perdu, désespéré,

un flic me voit et me dit: Qu’est-c’tu fous ici?

à l’heure qu’il est tu devrais être au lycée,

et j’ui ai dit: Crève salope!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève charogne!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève fumier!

VLAN! bouclé!

I ended up in the street, abandoned

Totally lost and in despair,

A cop saw me and said, “What the hell are you doing here?

You should be in school at this hour,”

And I said “Die, bastard!”

And I said “Die, arsehole!”

And I said “Die, shithead!”

BANG! locked up!
The crescendo leading up to the onomatopoetic “vlan!” in each verse is replicated in the song’s narrative structure, as the authorities take ever more desperate measures to contain the narrator’s insolence. The song ends with a hyperbolical flourish:
Je m’suis r’trouvé enfermé à la Santé,

puis j’ai été condamné à être guillotiné;

le jour d’mon exécution j’ai eu droit au cur’ton,

y m’dit: Repentez-vous mon frère dans une dernière prière,

et j’ui ai dit: Crève salope!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève charogne!

et j’ui ai dit: Crève fumier!

VLAN! y z’ont tranché!

I ended up in the nick,

And was sentenced to death by guillotine;

On the day of my execution I had the right to a priestling,

He said, “Repent my son with a final prayer,”

And I said, “Die, bastard!”

And I said, “Die arsehole!”

And I said, “Die, shithead!”

“ZING!” headless!
One of the most striking features of Crève salope! is the narrator’s abusive tone. He cuts quite a different figure from the heroes of nineteenth-century revolutionary songs, who were frequently portrayed as noble, industrious and law-abiding citizens of the Republic. Working-class chansonniers like Pottier were anxious to counteract what Louis Chevalier has described as the persistent confusion between “the labouring classes and the dangerous classes” – that is, between workers and criminals – which existed in public consciousness during the first half of the nineteenth century and which was still being cynically exploited by the Versaillais forces at the time of the Commune.19 Renaud’s protagonist, on the contrary, has nothing to prove. He speaks and acts like a delinquent, even though he shares the fate of many a revolutionary hero. It could be argued that this merely reflected a juvenile desire on Renaud’s part to be provocative. However, Crève salope! also points to the significant struggle which the soixante-huitards faced in attempting to establish their own revolutionary identity. Their idolisation of the working class was rarely reciprocated. On the contrary, Renaud’s earlier experience with his Maoist friends announced the hostile attitude which students would encounter among certain sections of the working class during May 1968. The old guard of the more authoritarian working-class institutions such as the Parti Communiste Français (PCF) had supported De Gaulle during the Resistance and, despite their revolutionary heritage, were more inclined to legal negotiations with the government than to revolutionary acts. They tended to dismiss the student radicals as reckless thrill-seekers and bourgeois “fils à papa” (“daddy’s boys”). The signature of the Grenelle Agreements by government, employer and union representatives on 27 May 1968 highlighted the division between working-class leaders primarily interested in economic gains and students fighting against the consumerist values of the capitalist system.20
The soixante-huitards found a more receptive audience among younger workers and in particular among the blousons noirs, delinquent youths with a propensity for violence who came from the grands ensembles (housing estates) of suburban Paris.21 While the blousons noirs did not possess the same level of education or political awareness as the predominantly middle-class soixante-huitards, they experienced even more acutely than their student allies a sense of having been relegated to the margins of society. The grands ensembles of the Parisian suburbs or banlieue – which literally translates as “a place of banishment” – were originally designed as a temporary solution to the city’s chronic housing shortage, exacerbated by the post-war baby boom. Although they provided a reasonable standard of physical comfort and hygiene, many were poorly linked to the workplace and to the city’s central districts. They were generally built in great haste and with cheap materials, and lacked basic community facilities. The absence of traditional social structures and of a unifying culture in the grands ensembles led many of their teenage inhabitants to seek refuge in delinquent gangs.
The soixante-huitards, for their part, strongly identified with the blousons noirs. The Nanterre campus where the May movement began was located in the city’s industrial west, near a housing estate of habitations à loyer modéré or HLM (low-rent apartment blocks) and a bidonville (shanty town). Henri Lefebvre’s book La Proclamation de la Commune (1965), which interpreted the Commune of 1871 as the re-appropriation of central Paris by those who had been pushed out to the city’s periphery, seems to have struck a chord among his students at Nanterre.22 The symbolic significance of urban space and the sociological consequences of town planning became important themes of discussion, particularly among architecture students from the Ecole des Beaux Arts. They argued that the construction of grands ensembles primarily served the class interests of professional architects and the bourgeoisie:
We believe that the architect’s objective function in capitalist society is to design the built environment of an oppressive structure. In our opinion, the expression “watchdog of the bourgeoisie” is not a hollow one. Those architects who have designed so-called “social” housing, who have given contracts to the cheapest developer, who reduce the surface area of housing developments to bring down the ceiling cost, those town planners who have reinforced social segregation through zoning know this. As do secondary school students in their school-barracks and patients in hospital-prisons.23

The belief that educational institutions and suburban housing estates were symbols of the same oppressive system was reinforced when students and blousons noirs joined forces in some of the most spectacular riots of May 1968. This gave the French government and the PCF a welcome opportunity to discredit the May movement by claiming that it had been coopted by criminal elements. After a group of protesters set fire to the Paris Stock Exchange during the night of 24 May, the Minister of the Interior, Christian Fouchet, notoriously lashed out at what he described as “la pègre,” an “underworld from the slummiest parts of Paris, whose rage is real and which is hiding behind the students.” Fouchet further invited Paris to “throw up this underworld which dishonours the city.”24 His outburst elicited counter-accusations that the government itself had hired agitators to infiltrate and compromise the May movement. The Coordination des Comités d’Action at the Sorbonne turned Fouchet’s accusation around by insisting that “the real underworld is that pack of plutocrats who are holding onto power against the will of the people.”25 For the most part, however, Fouchet inadvertently reinforced the students’ identification with the low-life represented by the blousons noirs. One group of committees declared: “Workers, clerks, teachers, students, farmers, we all belong to what the government insultingly refers to as the underworld.”26
The criminal milieu offered the soixante-huitards an alternative model of revolt; however, their appropriation of a delinquent identity did not mean that they lost interest in the working-class cause and its revolutionary mythology. Instead, it put them in the position of supporting both “the labouring classes and the dangerous classes” which working-class activists had been at pains to differentiate since the second half of the nineteenth century. The soixante-huitards’ position nonetheless had a theoretical basis in the work of Mikhail Bakunin, the nineteenth-century Russian anarchist fascinated by the “poetry of destruction.” According to Peter Marshall, Bakunin became “the most influential thinker during the resurgence of anarchism in the sixties and seventies.”27 Unlike Marx, who despised the lumpenproletariat, Bakunin believed that social change must proceed “from the bottom up, from the circumference to the centre”: “I have in mind . . . the ‘riffraff,’ that ‘rabble’ almost unpolluted by bourgeois civilisation, which carries in its inner being and in its aspirations, in all the necessities and miseries of its collective life, all the seeds of the socialism of the future.”28
Bakunin’s theories were echoed in the 1950s and 1960s by the Internationale Situationniste. The Situationists adhered to the Marxist belief in the revolutionary vocation of the proletariat; at the same time, they were interested in the subversive potential of social groups at the fringes of the working class. The blousons noirs, whose violent exploits during the period 1959-1963 fed a nascent anxiety in French society about its readiness to accommodate the first generation of “baby boomers” to reach maturity, attracted the attention of the Situationist Raoul Vaneigem:
Their puerile will to power has often managed to preserve almost intact their will to live . . . If the playful violence inherent in gangs of young delinquents were to stop being expended in often ridiculous and “spectacular” gestures, and were instead to turn into the poetry of rebellion, then this would no doubt cause a chain reaction, a substantial shock wave. Most people are, in fact, acutely aware of their own desire to live authentically and reject restrictions and specific social roles. All it needs is a spark and an appropriate strategy. If the blousons noirs ever manage to achieve a revolutionary consciousness, by simply discovering what they are, and demanding to be more than this, they will in all probability determine where the epicentre of the future revolution will be. To federate their gangs would be the one action which would both reveal this consciousness and also allow it to express itself.29

The Situationists had a stronger influence on the cultural production of May 1968 than any other group. Renaud’s first song bears a striking resemblance to a tract published in Bordeaux in April 1968 by the Situationist-inspired Comité de Salut Public des Vandalistes:
La lutte contre l’aliénation se doit de donner aux mots leur sens réel ainsi que de leur rendre leur force initiale:

aussi ne dites plus:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Monsieur le professeur

bonsoir, papa

pardon, m’sieur l’agent

merci, docteur

mais dites: . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
crève salope!

crève salope!

crève salope!

crève salope!30

Crève salope! is also noteworthy for the way in which it was popularised. Its simple structure and repetitive elements made it easy to learn. A number of Renaud’s friends with rudimentary guitar skills copied down the words and presented the song to school audiences in different parts of Paris. By lending itself to this type of shared experience and by creating an impact outside the world of show business, Crève salope! exemplified the ideals of the Situationists, on the one hand, who denounced the alienating, mass-produced culture of what Guy Debord described as “la société du spectacle” (“the entertainment society”), and, on the other hand, of contemporary folk singers who, like their nineteenth-century working-class predecessors, believed that popular song was most likely to mobilise revolutionary sentiments if performed collectively and if it remained independent of the market forces of the entertainment industry.31
Renaud wrote a second set of song lyrics in May 1968 entitled C.A.L en bourse, which bore witness to the violent methods used by the CRS riot police:
La grenade qu’un CRS m’a envoyée

L’autre soir au Quartier m’a beaucoup fait pleurer,

J’ai rejoint en courant la place Edmond-Rostand,

Y’avait des flics partout, et pourtant j’en rosse tant!
Dans la semaine ils mettent leurs petits PV,

Et le vendredi soir relancent nos pavés,

Ces bourreaux, ces SS, qui nous filent des mornifles

Et qu’on attaque sans peur à coups de canif!
Les flics ne cognent jamais de la même façon,

Tout dépend de la fille, tout dépend du garçon,

Moi je suis le polisson du centre Beaujon.32
Là j’ai connu un flic que l’on appelle Eugène,

Car sa spécialité c’est la lacrymogène;

Je lui ai dit cent fois: Arrête les crimes, Eugène!

The grenade which a riot policeman threw at me

The other day in the Latin Quarter made me cry a lot,

I ran to Edmond-Rostand Square,

There were cops everywhere, but I still beat up heaps of them!
During the week they hand out their little fines,

And on Friday nights they throw back our cobblestones,

Torturers, SS men who clip us over the ear

And who we fearlessly attack with our pocket knives!
Cops never bash the same way twice,

It all depends on the girl or the boy,

I’m the “little rascal” of the Beaujon Centre.
I met a cop there called Eugene

He specialty is tear-gas

I told him time and again, “Stop committing crimes, Eugene!”
Like Crève salope! C.A.L. en bourse owes something to Situationist theory. In particular, it illustrates the cultural tactic – frequently used in May 1968 – of what the Situationists called “détournement,” which involved the “diversion” of artistic forms for other purposes than those originally intended. Here, Renaud uses the sonnet, a poetic genre usually reserved for refined expressions of love, as a vehicle for social protest. In addition, the lyrics derive a large part of their subversive impact from a series of semantically loaded puns. The song’s title plays on the French word for pun itself, calembour, by juxtaposing the acronym for the Comités d’Action Lycéens, CAL, with the French word for Stock Exchange, Bourse. The CAL were an active force in the May uprising, while the Bourse symbolised the capitalist system which the soixante-huitards sought to overthrow. In the first verse, the narrator’s triumphant boast about the number of policemen he has beaten up, “j’en rosse tant,” simultaneously alludes to the name of Jean Rostand, the founder of the Mouvement Contre l’Armement Atomique which Renaud had frequented in the mid-1960s. Finally, “les crimes Eugène” is an approximate play on lacrymogène (tear-gas).
The narrator of C.A.L. en bourse possesses an endearing mixture of street wisdom, idealism and child-like ingenuousness. This makes him strongly reminiscent of Gavroche, who, in many respects, was the prototypal literary incarnation of the convergence between “the labouring classes and the dangerous classes.” Gavroche moves effortlessly from the Parisian underworld to the revolutionary barricades. It is his child-like status which makes this possible; according to Hugo, the Parisian street kid
swears like a trooper, hangs out in pubs, knows thieves, is overfamiliar with girls, speaks in slang, sings obscene songs and has nothing bad in his heart. This is because his soul contains a pearl – innocence – and pearls don’t dissolve in mud. As long as man remains a child, it is God’s will that he be innocent.33
May 1968 was a rite of passage which compelled Renaud to leave behind the external reality of his own childhood. Expelled from the Lycée Montaigne, he enrolled in September 1968 at the Lycée Claude Bernard, located in the conservative and exclusive sixteenth arrondissement (district) of Paris. According to Renaud, most of the students at his new school were either apolitical or had ultra right-wing tendencies.34 He managed nevertheless to find a like-minded spirit with whom he teamed up to form the Groupe Ravachol. Renaud’s last published text from 1968, Ravachol, is both a political manifesto and a eulogy for the notorious anarchist after whom the group was named. François-Claudius Ravachol was condemned to death in 1892 for having perpetrated a series of bomb attacks in protest against what he saw as the victimisation of workers by the beneficiaries of the capitalist system:
Il s’app’lait Ravachol, c’était un anarchiste

qu’avait des idées folles, des idées terroristes

Il fabriquait des bombes et les faisait sauter

pour emmerder le monde, les bourgeois, les curés.

A la porte des banques, dans les commissariats,

ça f’sait un double bang, j’aurais aimé voir ça.

Mais un jour il fut trahi par sa meilleure amie,

livré à la police, la prétendue justice.

Au cours de son procès, il déclara notamment

n’avoir tué aucun innocent,

vu qu’il n’avait frappé que la bourgeoisie,

que les flics, les curés, les fonctionnaires pourris.

Mais le juge dit: Ravachol, on a trop discuté,

tu n’as plus la parole, maint’nant on va trancher!

Devant la guillotine il cita, ben voyons,

le camarade Bakounine et l’camarade Proudhon:

Si tu veux être heureux pends ton propriétaire,

coupe les curés en deux, tue les p’tits fonctionnaires!

Son exemple fut suivi quelques années plus tard

par Emile Henry35, autre ennemi du pouvoir.

Camarade qui veux lutter autour du drapeau noir,

drapeau d’la liberté, drapeau de l’espoir,

rejoins le combat du Groupe Ravachol

et n’oublie pas qu’la propriété, c’est l’vol!

Il s’appl’ait Ravachol, c’était un anarchiste

qu’avait des idées pas si folles, des idées terroristes.

His name was Ravachol, he was an anarchist

who had crazy ideas, terrorist ideas

He made bombs and set them off

to bug people, the bourgeoisie and clerics.

In front of banks and at police stations,

There were simultaneous explosions which I’d love to have seen.

But one day he was betrayed by his best friend

who fingered him to the police, the so-called upholders of the law.

During his trial, he proclaimed

that he had never killed an innocent person,

given that his victims were only the bourgeoisie,

cops, clerics and corrupt bureaucrats.

“That’s enough discussion, Ravachol, you’ve had your say,”

said the judge, cutting him short.

Beneath the guillotine he quoted, let’s see...

comrade Bakunin and comrade Proudhon:

“If you want to be happy hang your landlord,

cut the clerics in half, kill petty bureaucrats!”

His example was followed a few years later

by Emile Henry, another enemy of the system.

Comrade, if you want to fight under the black flag,

the flag of freedom, the flag of hope,

join the struggle of the Groupe Ravachol,

and above all, don’t forget that property is theft!

His name was Ravachol, he was an anarchist

who had ideas that weren’t so crazy, terrorist ideas.
Ravachol exemplifies the soixante-huitards’ wish to see themselves as part of an historical revolutionary tradition and builds upon a series of anarchist songs from the early 1890s which commemorated the terrorist’s exploits. During this period, anarchist songwriters in general began to couch their revolt in gritty, colloquial language rather than in the lofty style favoured by Communards like Pottier, thereby creating a precedent for the kind of songs which Renaud would write three quarters of a century later. This was certainly true of Le Père Lapurge, a well-known song in revolutionary circles of the 1890s which Ravachol actually sang as he mounted the scaffold. He added a new verse which, according to legend, he had written himself:36
Si tu veux être heureux,

Nom de dieu!

Pends ton propriétaire,

Coup’ les curés en deux,

Nom de dieu!

Fouts les églis’ par terre,


Et l’bon dieu dans la merde,

Nom de dieu!

Et l’bon dieu dans la merde!

If you want to be happy,

God dammit!

Hang your landlord,

Cut the clerics in half,

God dammit!

Pull down the churches,

For God’s sake!

And shove the Lord in shit,

God dammit!

Shove the Lord in shit!
One of the most famous slogans of May 1968 was a Situationist maxim which bore a striking resemblance to Ravachol’s verse: “Humanity will only be truly happy the day the last bureaucrat has been hanged with the guts of the last capitalist.”37 However, most soixante-huitards, including Renaud, did not translate this type of verbal violence into real acts of terrorism. Those who did not belong to authoritarian Marxist groups were strongly influenced by anarchist principles, but few seriously contemplated promoting those principles by imitating Ravachol’s brand of “propaganda by the deed.” The Fédération Anarchiste Française (FAF), in an effort to correct the popular preconception of anarchists as dangerous psychopaths, included the following statement in its manifesto of 25 May 1968: “Madmen, nihilists and die-hard extremists have no place among the anarchists.”38 Perhaps Ravachol should be seen as a cathartic expression of the frustration and rage which Renaud must have felt after the collapse of the May movement and his subsequent “exile” to the sixteenth arrondissement. Nonetheless, the terrorism into which the most embittered revolutionaries channelled their revolt in the 1970s can make Ravachol appear in hindsight as a harbinger of a new, more cynical era.
Renaud’s first songs forcefully convey his youthful passion, even though they lack the linguistic mastery and finesse of his subsequent work. They also show that from an early age, he was able to draw creatively upon a range of cultural forms. Hugo’s half-romantic, half-realist epic about “the labouring classes and the dangerous classes” of the first half of the nineteenth century, anarchist songs of the early 1890s and Situationist rhetoric of the 1960s all presented a vision of class struggle in which criminal elements and illegal tactics assumed pride of place. Such a vision inevitably appealed to soixante-huitards at odds with the more respectable and authoritarian working-class institutions. May 1968 also provided Renaud with his first direct experience of how popular song could both articulate social problems and serve as a rallying point for the disenfranchised. However, this experience had not given him a strong sense of vocation, and he was far from imagining that his own songs would one day give voice to an entire generation.

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