47 f “N


ew France apparently had flutes and bag- pipes, even hurdy-gurdies, though few fid- dles,” says Berthiaume. “The coming of the English and Scottish, and the Irish – especial- ly during the Famine years [of the 1840s] –


really changed things, and created the sound of what’s now


Québécois dance music. Irish immigrants also brought the bodhran – and a tradition of playing tambour à mailloche, as we call it, still exists around Portneuf, near Quebec City.” A strong new French and Celtic hybrid developed, and the music proved very popular well into the 20th century through early recording artists such as the Soucy family.


In the Québécois song tradition, the typically cheery tempos and melodies often ran counter to a darker thread in the words. Réveillons! focus on songs with social themes, like Cunégonde which concerns a man with an embarrassing stutter, trying to appeal to his wife Cu-Cu-Cu-Cu-Cunégonde. “It dates from the ‘30s, and while the song seems comic, the guy is saying he doesn’t want her to have any more kids because they’ve already got a house full. Society was still very Catholic and there were lots like that.”


The Church played an ambiguous role in the development of


Québécois folk. Many clerics regarded with suspicion music of any kind except for hymns and patriotic songs. Some parishes banned


instruments. Fiddles in particular were linked to the devil. But the Church ironically helped at least one tradition survive.


“A lot of priests forbade dancing with a member of the oppo- site sex other than their spouses,” Berthiaume explains. “When the waltz arrived it was immediately forbidden because of its one- to-one intimacy, but the Church compensated by permitting dances where people made contact with others, but only briefly. So thanks to the priests we’ve retained old dances like the quadrille that are much harder to find in France.”


Censorship also fertilised the hormonal imagination. “As you


weren’t able to say things in songs as they really were, it led to some unbelievable images and metaphors with multiple meanings, usually relating to sex one way or another,” says Hébert. The reper- toire of Galant Tu Perds Ton Temps [which translates as ‘Loverboy You’re Wasting Your Time’] is full of delights such as Le P’tit Mari, about a husband so small he disappears in the bed sheets and gets roasted when the mattress catches fire.


Continued on PAGE 87 Réveillons!


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100