Clothilde

Our pick of the pops

French singer Clothilde remains largely a mystery. She recorded just two EPs for the Vogue record label and a couple of Italian translations of her French material before disappearing back into the obscurity from whence she came.

She was born in 1948. Her surname – and, indeed, confirmation that Clothilde was actually her real first name – is lost in time.

Clothilde had two passions in life: music and painting. The former won out, at least initially.

In 1967, at the age of 19, she was taken under the wing of producer Germinal Tenas. Tenas was a good friend of Christian Fechner, the man behind cool hits for the likes of Antoine and Les Problèmes, and the pair are often mistakenly assumed to be one and the same person.

That Tenas liked mixing pop sounds with unusual instruments to create a baroque pop was evident on her first EP, Fallait pas écraser la queue du chat. Issued that year on the Vogue label, the four-track disc also featured Je t’ai voulu et je t’ai bien eu, La chanson bête et méchante and Le boa.

Tenas co-wrote all four songs, while Clothilde supplied the sleeve notes for the release. There she said that her record company thought she would be crowned best newcomer of the year, although – in a display of modesty – she added, “I’d like to believe them, but...”

Two of the tracks were translated into Italian and released as Ora so cos’e (Fallait pas écraser la queue du chat) and Qualcosa che non va (La chanson bête et méchante).

However, a second French EP, issued later that year, proved Clothilde’s last. Again, it was a strong set, which led with Saperlipopette (Bleuet et chiendent) and also included La ballade au bossu, 102, 103 and La verité, toute la verité.

Clothilde co-wrote two of the songs, including La ballade au bossu – a track that caused raised eyebrows for its double entendres. “Si j’avais su qu’un bossu serait le symbolique apport de mon corps,” she sang (If I had known that a hunchback would be the symbolic portion of my body). The slight pause between the two syllables of ‘bossu’ left audiences to understand “Si j’avais su qu’un beau sucerait le symbolique apport de mon corps” (If I had known a good-looking man would suck the symbolic portion of my body). The cleverness – and sauciness – of the lyrics has drawn comparisons with the work of Serge Gainsbourg.

It is perhaps surprising, then, that she disappeared seemingly without trace after its release.

Whether she went on to pursue her love of painting remains an unanswered question.

With thanks to Mordi of Blowupdoll for additional sound files and Will Kane at The world of Kane for additional research.