Standing outside the house where she was born, in June 1930, I think some things in Paris never change...things like the smell of fresh-baked baguettes at daybreak, the Napoleonic arcades [-] the morning coffee that you drink standing up for double impact and the sound of a chanson that's not just popular, its intensely personal, to everyone who hears it, it's a song that evokes a place, an encounter, a moment in your life. It might be sung by Edith Piaf, or Jacques Brel, or Juliette Greco - but the one for me who delves deepest into the collective unconscious, is almost unknown outside France, and her song is the story of millions of private lives, of the spirit of Paris, of the narrative of our times, of my lifetime, she's known as Barbara, though that's not her real name, she called herself, the Black Eagle, and she always wore black.
--
Norman Lebrecht, speaking on Radio Three, The Inner Voice of France, December 2011.Barbara (singer)
» Barbara (singer) - all quotes »
Seattle sucks. New York and Chicago are real cities. Seattle is Dubuque, Iowa, putting on airs. People here think Seattle is Paris... it ain't. I've been to Paris, and this place isn't Paris.
Dan Savage
Restraint can be tough. I've made a point to learn how to make a slow song have as much impact as a fast song. That's a challenge I've given myself, because it's easy to just get out there and blast through a bunch of things and feel as though you're exciting the audience. If you can do that with a slow song, then you really have some variety and some range.
John Doe
This is the song of the men who have no place, played by a man who has never had a place, and can therefore play it. Listen to it. You know this song, remember? This is the song you close your ears to every night, so you can sleep. This is the song you drink five martinis every evening not to hear. This is the song of the Great Loneliness, that creeps in the desert wind and dehydrates the soul. This is the song you'll listen to on the day you die. When you lay there in bed and sweat it out, you know that all the doctors and nurses and weeping friends don't mean a thing and can't help you any, can't save you one small bitter taste of it, because you are the one that's dying and not them; when you wait for it to come and know the sleep will not evade it and martinis will not put it off and conversation will not circumvent it and hobbies will not help you to escape it; then you will hear this song and remembering, recognize it. This song is Reality. Remember? Surely you remember?
James Jones
I wrote a song called "Father & Son" about the son running off to do his own thing. Now the story is about my son coming back and bringing a guitar into the house. A couple of years ago, one morning after prayers, his guitar was lying around. I picked it up and my fingers knew exactly where to go. I'd written some words and when I put them to music, it moved me and I realized I could have another job to do. Things just grew from there.
Cat Stevens
Standing to America, bringing home
black gold, black ivory, black seed.Robert Hayden
Barbara (singer)
Barbauld, Anna Letitia
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