22 May 1924 – 1 October 2018
I have a tortoise, two canaries
I tidy, I wash dishes, I wipe up
Where I perform as a transvestite
I have a very special number
Which I finish completely nude
Following the strip-tease
And in the room I see that
The men don't believe their eyes
Around three in the morning
My friends and I of both sexes
And there, with joyful hearts
About the people who get up our noses
Who to impress their table
Aping what they believe us to be
And the poor fools covering themselves
With ridicule
Gesticulating and speaking loudly
Playing the diva, the stupid show-offs
For me their jibes, their jeers
Leave me cold since it's true
At the hour when a new day is born
I take off my eyebrows and my hair
Like a poor unfortunate clown
I go to bed but I don't sleep
I think of my love affairs without joy
Of the handsome boy like a god
Who without doing anything
Because the object of my torments
Nobody truthfully has the right
That nature is wholly responsible if
© 1972 Barclay Records France
Translated (very loosely) by
See below for original French text
Charles Aznavour, who was born Shahnour Vaghinag Aznavourian to Armenian parents in Paris on 22 May 1924, was at the height of his international fame when his twenty-third album Idiote je t'aime [Idiot, I love you] was released in July 1972. After entering showbusiness at the age of nine — the same year he heard Maurice Chevalier's recording of Donnez moi la main Mamz'elle et ne dites rien [Give Me Your Hand Miss and Say Nothing], the song he claimed inspired him to pursue a career as a chansonnier — and achieving some early success in Québec as a member of a duo featuring himself and actor Pierre Roche, Aznavour had by then become a bestselling recording artist who had appeared in more than thirty feature films, some of which he co-wrote and provided the soundtracks for. He was arguably the most famous Frenchman in the world (despite the fact that his heritage was one hundred per cent Armenian) and a top concert attraction in France and many other countries including the UK and North America thanks to a string of successful hit singles (sung in a variety of languages) that included the evocatively romantic She and the achingly wistful Yesterday When I Was Young.
Aznavour's fame is partly what makes his decision to write and record a song like Comme ils disent [As They Say] so noteworthy. The early 1970s was not a time when the subjects of homosexuality or the lives of drag queens were openly spoken of, if they were spoken of at all, with anything resembling understanding or acceptance.
Comme ils disent was a bold statement for a popular mainstream performer to make at the time, particularly when the performer in question was neither gay nor a drag queen himself. Nor was the reaction of Aznavour's gay friends to the song quite what he'd anticipated. As he stated in a 2011 newspaper interview, they initially greeted the song with baffled silence when he performed it for them. "Ça a jeté un froid," he remembered. "Puis on m'a demandé qui allait chanter ça. J'ai
répondu : « moi ». Nouveau silence. Puis quelqu'un s'est inquiété de
savoir si je ferais une annonce. Vous m'imaginez annonçant sur scène que
je vais me mettre à la place d'un homosexuel, alors que je ne le suis
pas ? Il n'était pas question de reculer." [It threw out a chill… Then they asked me who was going to sing it. I answered, 'Me.' New silence. Then someone became anxious to know if I would make an announcement. Can you imagine me announcing on-stage that I'm going to put myself in the place of a homosexual, when I am not that? There was no question of going back.']
The song obviously conveyed a message that a lot of people, LGBTQIA+ and otherwise, were eager to hear. Subsequently released as a single, Comme ils disent went on to sell a respectable 150,000 copies and become a mainstay of Aznavour's stage act for decades to come. Nor is it difficult to understand why it struck such an enduring chord with his audience. It's a deeply moving song, one very much in keeping with the chanson tradition that insists on drawing its subject matter from the circumstances, promising or crushing, of everyday life. The narrator is portrayed as a forlorn human being and an artist, not as a freak to be vilified and ostracized by an ignorant and prejudiced society. That was a powerful message in 1972 and remains just as powerful half a century later, a reminder that to be an LGBTQIA+ person is neither a consciously made 'lifestyle choice' nor a 'sin' as so many fundamentalists of all faiths prefer to believe for reasons that remain, to me, as ludicrous as they are indefensible.
Use the link below to visit the website (in English) of Armenian-French singer/songwriter, actor, diplomat and philanthropist CHARLES AZNAVOUR:
J’habite seul avec maman
Dans un très vieil appartement
Rue Sarasate
J’ai pour me tenir compagnie
Une tortue, deux canaris
Et une chatte
Pour laisser maman reposer
Très souvent je fais le marché
Et la cuisine
Je range, je lave, j’essuie
À l’occasion je pique aussi
À la machine
Le travail ne me fait pas peur
Je suis un peu décorateur
Un peu styliste
Mais mon vrai métier, c’est la nuit
Où je l’exerce, travesti
Je suis artiste
J’ai un numéro très spécial
Qui finit en nu intégral
Après strip-tease
Et dans la salle je vois que
Les mâles n’en croient pas leurs yeux
Je suis un homme oh !
Comme ils disent
Vers les trois heures du matin
On va manger entre copains
De tous les sexes
Dans un quelconque bar-tabac
Et là, on s’en donne à cœur joie
Et sans complexe
On déballe des vérités
Sur des gens qu’on a dans le nez
On les lapide
Mais on le fait avec humour
Enrobés dans des calembours
Mouillés d’acide
On rencontre des attardés
Qui pour épater leur tablée
Marchent et ondulent
Singeant ce qu’ils croient être nous
Et se couvrent, les pauvres fous
De ridicule
Ça gesticule et parle fort
Ça joue les divas, les ténors
De la bêtise
Moi les lazzis, les quolibets
Me laissent froid puisque c’est vrai
Je suis un homme oh !
Comme ils disent
À l’heure où naît un jour nouveau
Je rentre retrouver mon lot
De solitude
J’ôte mes cils et mes cheveux
Comme un pauvre clown malheureux
De lassitude
Je me couche mais ne dors pas
Je pense à mes amours sans joie
Si dérisoires
À ce garçon beau comme un dieu
Qui sans rien faire a mis le feu
À ma mémoire
Ma bouche n’osera jamais
Lui avouer mon doux secret
Mon tendre drame
Car l’objet de tous mes tourments
Passe le plus clair de son temps
Au lit des femmes
Nul n’a le droit en vérité
De me blâmer, de me juger
Et je précise
Que c’est bien la nature qui
Est seule responsable si
Je suis un homme oh !
Comme ils disent
© 1972 Barclay Records France
