when Hubby is asleep on the couch after working so hard for us, I run through a bunch of youtube videos. I never fail to be inspired by some of the classic singers from history, people like Edith Piaf, born in Paris in 1915. She rose from utter poverty to become a prominent songstress of her time. Tiny in stature and plagued by illnesses and addiction, she composed the lyrics to this song, but not the melody. It was dedicated to the love of her life, a married lover who died in a plane crash as she waited to be reunited with him. Edith died of liver cancer at the age of 47.
Here is the same song in French, her mother tongue:
One thing that strikes me when I watch this: I can’t help but compare present-day music stardom to these older times. She is not the best-looking woman here–the pain of her life shows in her face and figure, but her voice was her own, absolutely unique. In these days, at least in North America, it seems, looks are everything, and autotune and lip synching can fix any flaws in the singer’s voice or performance. I do admire any musician who can please fans live and unplugged.