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Joli Petit Amour

Route 18

2013–2014 was a magical moment where literary and musical stars aligned thanks to the relentless work of Jehanne Carillon, who moved mountains to put together Chant’Oulipo. The show, composed by three members of the Ouvroir de Musique Potentielle (OuMuPo) including myself, drew from a set of over 20 songs that set OuLiPo poems to our music.

I forget how we divided up the poems, but I had the unenviable task of composing music for Paul Fournel’s Joli Petit Amour. Not that there’s anything wrong with the poem — it’s perfect — but it is dense and there are not many musical traditions that can naturally pack so much text into neat and memorable verses and refrains.

I was stuck, but a few days after our initial meeting, a syncopated rhythm emerged for “C’était un joli petit amour” that felt like it belonged to a Latin tradition. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the tradition, but everything clicked when I discovered the version of A Felicidade on João Gilberto interpreta Tom Jobim. The chorus is directly indebted to this instrumentation. I realized that the work was meant for Carnaval and, although we were never able to tour with it using that instrumentation, the song has been played by a group of sambista for years in my head.

My dream is to perform this during a local Carnaval in France. Maybe even in Eurovision one day. 🤩

Lyrics

poem by Paul Fournel

Que l'on écrase notre amour
Dans la machine des jours

C'était un joli petit amour
Un amour de deux ou trois jours
Tout bourré de jolies choses
Du chocolat du vin des roses
Un amour de jardin et de feuilles
Pourquoi faut-il toujours que tu veuilles

Que l'on écrase notre amour
Dans la machine des jours

C'est vrai que nous nous aimions pourtant
Moi, j'étais ton galant amant
Tu étais ma belle maitresse
Ma doudou voire ma gonzesse
À genoux tu veux me marier
Tout de suite je tombe du canapé

Que l'on écrase notre amour
Dans la machine des jours

Très gêné, je suis furax
Odieux tu proposes un PAX
Pourquoi pas un pyjama, des pantoufles ?
Angoissé et débordé j'étouffe.

Que l'on écrase notre amour
Dans la machine des jours