I had a glass of wine while cooking and listening to Christmas music. Despite the heaviness of this holiday season, I told myself that I had to breathe through my nose. And make meat pies.
And then the news broke. Renée Martel has passed away.
I checked several sources, because I told myself that it could not be.
Then I thought of that art magazine that a few weeks ago made her say that she wanted to enjoy the presence of her grandchildren, or something like that.
We pass broccoli and spaghetti on the conveyor belt of a checkout, we see shocking titles on glossy paper and we tell ourselves that they are like everyone else, a little forced.
This one was not. Renée Martel doubtless knew that the end was near. But since discretion has always been embodied, it was necessary to read between the lines.
As far as I can remember, this singer has been a part of my life. My father, who had known the songs of his father, Marcel Martel, adored him. My mother, my sister, my brother and I had no choice: we had to love Renée Martel.
It was not difficult.
His songs reigned in the big living room stereo and triumphed in the many parties during the Holidays (my family comes from Abitibi… it celebrates, those people).
This artist has created successes in spades. Liverpool, I’m going to London, Come change my life, A love that doesn’t want to die, When a boat passes, Take my hand, If we could start over, Give me a day, Everything is pink, Ultimately and how many more.
I hear the purists say right now: yes, but they were translations of American successes that her managers made her do in a day, that she presented to Youth today and who were at the top of the charts on Monday.
It’s totally true. Because it was like that in the 1960s. Except that unlike many other singers who have only experienced this pleasure once or twice, Renée Martel has stood the test of time and reached the zenith countless times. .
Sixty-five years of career, who says better?
No doubt she had the intelligence and the flair to encircle in a formidable way her pretty face and her blonde hair. And then there was that voice… burning, vibrant, unique, incomparable.
This voice, when it was heard, soothed, reassured.
This voice made her what the media today call “the queen of country”. In fact, Renée Martel made us forget the greasy and annoying vocals associated with the western and gave a certain nobility to country music.
With her, the guilty pleasure was no longer guilty.
Yes, she did covers of American hits, but she also went to talented songwriters who made her songs sewn just for her. She always interpreted them with that same voice.
Renée Martel fought demons. She spoke about it freely in an autobiography and various interviews. Her relationship with a distant and authoritarian father (who had become jealous of her daughter’s success), her relationship with alcohol, a sexual assault at the age of 18 after which she did not receive the support of her parents… She confided that to the public with its legendary modesty.
She went into exile for years in Morocco before coming back stronger, more serene.
It was there that she became something of a legend. Everyone wanted to sing with her, to be on stage with her. The oldest, the youngest, the craziest, the most serious.
Suddenly, we no longer saw the popular singer whom the “chansonniers” looked down on in the 1970s.
We saw in this smooth and soft woman like a pebble the one who had succeeded in rallying pop, country and other musical genres. We understood that, in the end, the one who had the least prejudices was her.
Few artists in Quebec can boast of bringing together so many generations around them. Renée Martel is part of this select group.
The greatest success of this artist will undoubtedly have been this one. Make the right songs and offer lyrics that will touch people’s hearts.
Because that’s all that mattered to her. She was so right.
Renée Martel’s departure adds to an already very difficult holiday season. But, at the same time, the singer gives us a huge gift, that of her songs.
If you’ve got a bottom out, I’m telling you, put some of his tunes between your ears. His voice will be a wonderful remedy.
P.-S. – Dear Renée Martel, my father also chose to leave during the holiday season. If you could bring him a piece of meat pie, that would be appreciated. He liked a lot Thousand after thousand, by Willie Lamothe, of which you made a wonderful version. He will accompany you to mouth music, that’s for sure.
Thanks in advance !