Tribute to Jean-Philippe Smet

When Johnny Hallyday dies, it's like a square circle, it doesn't exist. And yet, even if his wife Laetitia herself didn't believe what she wrote that night, these words heralded the news: «My man is no more.» On the morning of December 6, humanity seemed to discover for the first time the irrevocable reality of death, on the occasion of that of the greatest singer France had ever known.

Johnny Hallyday evokes at least a few memories in each of us, because he was part of our lives, like a family member we don't often meet, but always know exists. His death first took me back to my elementary school days, when a friend and I made our own version of the video for the song Marie. I discovered Johnny, who was never to leave me again.

I also remembered car journeys with my parents in the early 2000s, when the albums What I know and To life and death the rhythm of our vacations. In 2006, I attended my first Johnny concert, at the Tourbillon stadium, during his Flashback Tour. I saw him again in 2009, in Geneva, for what was to be his last tour. But «last» is not part of Johnny's vocabulary. To stop doing concerts would have meant stopping altogether.

Read also | Johnny Hallyday as you've never seen him before: «J'suis une pute» (I'm a whore)»

In the summer of 2016, I applauded Le Taulier at the «Sion sous les étoiles» festival. I've never been as thrilled as I was at this phenomenal concert, which was the penultimate date of his tour. Staying alive. Johnny Hallyday was obsessed with life and survival. He was its embodiment. Passionate and always determined, Johnny truly lived, in the sense that he forged himself at every moment, always evolving and renewing himself, from his music to his physique.

Excesses of all kinds were inevitable. But what do a few setbacks have to do with such a noble career spanning fifty-seven years? If today, in the press and among the general public, nobody thinks Johnny is an idiot anymore, it's because it's simply impossible to go from Jean-Philippe Smet to Johnny Hallyday and stay at the top for so long while being an idiot. All those who didn't see it that way now seem to realize it.

Once again, whether you like his songs or not, Johnny Hallyday's highlights are part of the common heritage of our French-speaking identity. Just take a look at the images from his song The idol of youth in 1963, listen to the track I forgot to live of 1977, to relive resumption of Don't leave me at Zenith in 1984, look at the the singer's crossing of the Parc des Princes crowd in 1993 or to revise its interpretation of No, I have no regrets in 2000 at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.

Read also | The ideal Johnny Hallyday concert that never existed

These moments of anthology make us aware of an important dimension, little mentioned in this week's articles: Johnny Hallyday married two worlds. a priori rock'n'roll and French chanson. As we know, Johnny's heart beat as much for Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry as for Georges Brassens, whose entire repertoire he knew like the back of his hand, Jacques Brel, his role model on stage, and Charles Aznavour, whom he considered his «spiritual father».

This is perhaps one of the reasons why he has built up such a loyal following since the 1960s. Of course, there's also a universally recognized component: that je-ne-sais-quoi of bestiality, of superhuman charisma, mixed with infinite benevolence. The images of his duet with Patrick Bruel in 1998, which Bruel would say re-launched his career, and with Renaud in 2003, when the interpreter of Mistral wins was in a very bad phase, show just how much Johnny didn't cheat on kindness.

Read also | Country in Johnny Hallyday's repertoire

Friendship was Johnny Hallyday's credo. His closest companions, led by Eddy Mitchell and Jean Reno, confirm this. Johnny was a simple man, whose happiness consisted in surrounding himself with his friends to laugh, enjoy a good piece of meat and toast over a bottle of red wine. In this, he is the hero of an entire people, intimately epicurean and culturally Christian.

From the little Belgian boy abandoned by his father to the sacred monument of French rock, you've always remained the same, and you've made us dream.

Farewell, Mr Jean-Philippe Smet.

Write to the author: jonas.follonier@leregardlibre.com

Photo credit: © L'Internaute

You have just read an open-access article. Debates, analyses, cultural news: subscribe to support us and access all our content.