Boris Vian and his poetic soul, author of this song considers Watt Street the most bath, the nicest, most exquisite in Paris. But Vian, writer, engineer, jazz man, pataphysician and fanciful, fooled by nothing, knew that the enormous steamroller of concrete modernity would make disappear the old rue Watt and its columns of cast iron and a whole bunch of poetic district of Paris , so he preferred to have fun with it.
Paris the 50s! Everything is changing. Some neighborhoods like the 13th arrondissement are resisting. Rue Watt, named after a Scottish engineer, is located between the quay of the former car manufacturers Panhard and Levassor and rue Chevaleret. A sort of cursed tunnel, 250 meters long, the ceiling of rue Watt vibrates with all the trains leaving the Gare d’Austerlitz.
Boris Vian was not the only one to praise the praises of this singular street with cast iron columns. All the losers, the bums, the writers, Raymond Queneau the photographers, Doisneau in the lead, the designers, Jacques Tardi of course, have dragged their gaiters there. As for Léo Mallet, he could only combine a pretty little murder on rue Watt and entrust the investigation to his favorite private detective: Nestor Burma.
Boris Vian in the short time of his life wrote over 600 songs. Many were recorded after his death, such as rue Watt, sung by Magali Noël, Boris’ favorite artist, “hurt me Johnny Johnny, I love love that makes boom” and by Philippe Clay 30 years old after Vian’s death in 1989.
Even if rue Watt has lost intensity, go daydream near Tolbiac in the 13th arrondissement and imagine one day buying a few square meters to plant your tomatoes in rue Watt.