An anti-war song for the ages...

 

 

7 May, 1954. The French military have just been humiliated by the Vietnamese in the battle of Dien Bien Phu and hopes of reconstituting the pre-war French empire in south eastern Asia have been vanquished along with the army. The government is in shock and the defeat hangs heavy over a country still piecing itself back together after the most calamitous of decades. 

The very same day, Marcel Mouloudji, a rising chansonnier with a following among the intelligentsia congregating on the left bank in Paris generally known only by his surname, was giving a concert. Among the repertoire he chose to perform that day was a newly written song by poet, jazz musician and journalist, Boris Vian, who had been trying to get someone to perform it for some weeks, without success. At length, after Vian reworked the lyrics to adopt a more pacifist approach, Mouloudji agreed to sing it, and 'Le déserteur' received its first public airing in front of a shocked and stunned audience. A week later, he went into the studio and recorded it, releasing it on a 78 rpm record via the Philips label.

The lyrics on the record took the form of a letter written by a conscript to those "whom we call important" (Vian's original lyric was addressed to the president) announcing his refusal to be conscripted to fight and his intention instead to take flight. Recounting the horrors he had already known during the earlier war, the protagonist declared that he would tour the country, calling on his fellow citizens to refuse to fight, and with resigned indifference, closed the letter by saying that, if the soldiers came after him, well, he was unarmed and they could shoot him if they wished.

The pacifist intent behind the song, and the fatalism of the ending were profoundly shocking to a country still determined to believe that it had triumphed in a just war against the horrors of Nazism, and its release hard on the heels of the colonial disaster in Indochina compounded the insult. The record - together with all other performances of it - was instantly banned from the airwaves, although Mouloudji did sneak a live performance of it onto the airwaves in October. Deprived of airplay, the song nevertheless found an audience out on the road, becoming well known, if not exactly becoming a hit.

The song's author and co-composer, Boris Vian was responsible for hundreds of songs in his short career, although he himself would only record the ten songs that appeared on his 1956 album Chansons "possibles" et "impossibles". Among them could be found his own version of 'Le déserteur', this time with a more elaborate musical setting (and restoring the original opening line). Vian's album was not a best seller, and few at the time heard his take on the song, although as it has remained in print for several decades, it is likely as well known today as is Mouloudji's original recording. 

 

Although not in any sense a major hit, the song's plaintive, lilting melody and evocative, thought-provoking lyric ensured it a longer-than-expected shelf-life. In 1956 it was picked up by Swedish lyricist Lars Forssell and reworked in that language as 'Jag står här på ett torg', in which guise it would be recorded firstly by Ulla Sjörblom and then by Lena Granhagen, while the version by Mouloudji continued to make small ripples around the world.

The end of the Algerian War in 1962 brought with it a slight relaxation of government censorship in France and the ban on airplay for the song was ended. The song was translated into Italian the same year by Luigi Tenco as 'Padroni della Terra' but although he recorded it, the results lay unreleased for a decade. 

It was in 1964 that the revival of interest in the song truly kicked up a gear when Peter, Paul and Mary picked it up and recorded it during the run of shows that resulted in the double album Peter, Paul And Mary In Concert. It is unclear where the America trio came across the song - they were friendly with French folk singer Hugues Aufray but they were also accustomed to searching widely for material to record, so they may have simply stumbled across it themselves. The anti-war nature of the song made it a good fit for their repertoire, although oddly, while they kept the French lyric intact, rather than translating it into English, they also made some slight lyrical changes in their version, which Peter Yarrow sang as a solo spot in their show. 

 

The boost that this gave to the song is incalculable. Mouloudji himself re-recorded it the same year, while actor Serge Reggiani also recorded a version amidst a whole album's worth of Vian songs (Vian having died in 1959, it was too late for him to enjoy the song's belated success). 1964 also saw the song translated into Dutch by Ernest van Altena and recorded by Peter Blanker as 'De deserteur', with a Danish version by Per Dich ('Desertøren') surfacing the following year. It was in 1966, as opposition to the Vietnam War began to rise around the globe, that the song truly came into its own. 

In the spring, Franco-Belgian beat group Les Sunlightsrecorded a new version of the song, adding a contemporary "all men are brothers" sentiment to the lyric and delivering it in a fashionable folk-rock arrangement that shot into the French charts during the summer (#4 on Europe No. 1; # 5 on RTL and in Salut Les Copains). A few weeks later, leading yé-yé singer Richard Anthony also recorded the song, releasing it on his La terre promise LP in August. With both versions performing well on radio, the taboo on the song was well and truly over and it finally entered the consciousness of the general public across France. 

 

Reacting to an obvious hit, singers around the world rushed to record it, with versions appearing in French (by German-based Israeli duo Esther und Abi Ofarim), German ('Der Deserteur' by Hein und Oss) and again in Swedish ('Desertören' by Ola and the Janglers). A more amusing  response came from French political activist and chansonnier, Jean Ferrat, whose 1967 song 'Pauvre Boris' pointed out the hypocrisy in radio stations rushing to play Richard Anthony's version while the original version had been banned a decade or so earlier. 

The song has been a rallying cry for the anti-war movement ever since. Joan Baez sang it many times at anti-Vietnam demonstrations (she would eventually release a version in 1980) and it has continued to be recorded, in a variety of languages, over the last fifty years. Among those who have committed it to tape are Italian singer Ornella Vanoni, French rock 'n' roller Eddy Mitchell, actor Michel Piccoli, Spanish singer Robo and Left Bank chanteuse Juliette Gréco but the most notable performance surely has to be that of Russian television producer Denis Kataev, who earlier this year, as the Russian army massed on the borders of Ukraine, recited the lyrics during the transmission of the Golden Eagle awards (the Russian version of the Oscars) before himself deserting the country. Nearly seventy years on from its creation, Boris Vian's lyrics for 'Le déserteur' still have the ability to shock, to provoke, and to make you think.

Monsieur le Président

Je vous fais une lettre

Que vous lirez peut-être

Si vous avez le temps

Je viens de recevoir

Mes papiers militaires

Pour partir à la guerre

Avant mercredi soir

Monsieur le Président

Je ne veux pas la faire

Je ne suis pas sur terre

Pour tuer des pauvres gens

C'est pas pour vous fâcher

Il faut que je vous dise

Ma décision est prise

Je m'en vais déserter

Depuis que je suis né

J'ai vu mourir mon père

J'ai vu partir mes frères

Et pleurer mes enfants

Ma mère a tant souffert

Qu'elle est dedans sa tombe

Et se moque des bombes

Et se moque des vers

Quand j'étais prisonnier

On m'a volé ma femme

On m'a volé mon âme

Et tout mon cher passé

Demain de bon matin

Je fermerai ma porte

Au nez des années mortes

J'irai sur les chemins

Je mendierai ma vie

Sur les routes de France

De Bretagne en Provence

Et je dirai aux gens

Refusez d'obéir

Refusez de la faire

N'allez pas à la guerre

Refusez de partir

S'il faut donner son sang

Allez donner le vôtre

Vous êtes bon apôtre

Monsieur le Président

Si vous me poursuivez

Prévenez vos gendarmes

Que je n'aurai pas d'armes

Et qu'ils pourront tirer 

You can read more about Boris Vian, Mouloudji and the other chansons of the fifties and early sixties - and much more besides - in my newly-released book. Feel free to grab a copy here: BOOK