Folk Songs of France and French Canada by Jacques Labrecque – A Journey Through Time
Alright, let’s talk about this gem from 1957: Folk Songs of France and French Canada by Jacques Labrecque. If you’re into folk music that feels like it was pulled straight outta some cozy cabin or a lively village square, this album is for you. It’s got that raw, earthy vibe that makes you wanna grab an accordion—or at least hum along while pretending to know French.
The record came out on Folkways Records (you know, the label that gave us all those cool old-school field recordings), and it’s got some serious creds behind it. Sam Gesser handled the recording, while Ronald Clyne took care of the design and cover art. The whole thing just screams “authentic.” And yeah, it’s got tracks with names like A La Claire Fontaine and Au Chant De L’Alouette, but don’t let the fancy titles fool you—this isn’t stiff, uptight classical stuff. This is real-deal folk music, messy and heartfelt.
Now, I gotta shout out two tracks that stuck in my head. First up, there’s À La Claire Fontaine. Man, this one’s hauntingly beautiful. The melody feels so simple, yet it hits hard. There’s something about the way Labrecque sings it—it’s not flashy or overdone, just pure emotion dripping through every note. You can almost picture someone sitting by a clear spring, thinking deep thoughts. I dunno, maybe it’s the repetition of the lyrics or the gentle rhythm, but this tune lingers long after the record stops spinning.
Then there’s Je L’ai Vu Voler. Oh man, this one’s fun! It’s playful and kinda quirky, like watching kids chase butterflies in a meadow. The energy here is totally different from À La Claire Fontaine. It’s upbeat, catchy as heck, and honestly? It made me laugh because it reminded me of trying to catch birds when I was little. Spoiler alert: I never caught any, but hey, the memory counts, right?
What stands out about this album is how it bridges cultures. These songs come from both France and French Canada, showing how traditions traveled across oceans and evolved. Listening to it feels like flipping through a scrapbook filled with stories, dances, and little slices of life from another time.
So yeah, if you’re looking for polished production or slick arrangements, this ain’t your jam. But if you want music that feels alive—if you want songs that sound like they’ve been passed down through generations—then give this a spin. Honestly, I think the imperfections are what make it special. Plus, who doesn’t love imagining people back in the day busting moves to Boum Badi Boum?
Final thought: This album makes me wonder if Jacques Labrecque ever got tired of singing about priests (Monsieur Le Curé) and fountains (La Fontaine Est Profonde). Like, dude, mix it up a bit! But nah, jokes aside, this is a keeper. Perfect for lazy Sundays or impressing your artsy friends.
