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Martha Wainwright is not the child of a street acrobat from Normandy. She was not raised in a brothel, and she hasn’t wandered the cobblestoned walkways of pre-war Pigalle, in Paris, singing for enough small change to get by. She’s never been accused of being an accessory to murder, and she’s never narrowly escaped a close call with a vengeful, gun-toting pimp. Those events are all part of the tragic and tumultuous history of one Edith Piaf, the performer who rose above her humble roots to become the internationally acclaimed “Little Sparrow,” arguably France’s greatest popular singer of all time. Piaf transformed those unfortunate circumstances into a storied career, pouring the pain and turmoil of her childhood into her interpretations of exquisitely emotional ballads.
It takes a unique gift and sheer guts to tackle the legacy of such a beloved icon. Luckily, Martha Wainwright has both, and then some. Evidence of this can be found on her stunning new album, Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, A Paris: Martha Wainwright Sings Piaf (Maplemusic Recordings), a collection of 15 gorgeous songs originally made famous by Piaf, and now masterfully interpreted by Wainwright. Produced (and inspired) by American music ace Hal Willner, the album was recorded live during three intimate performances at the Dixon Place Theatre in New York City in the summer of 2009. The results are nothing short of magnificent.
Wainwright is no stranger to being part of a remarkable artistic legacy. The daughter of celebrated singer-songwriters (the late Kate McGarrigle and Loudon Wainwright III), and the sister of virtuoso Rufus Wainwright, Martha is a standout talent in a family of great musicians, and she’s swiftly made her name as one of Canada’s finest musical performers. And though she grew up surrounded by warmth and music in Montreal, Quebec, not struggling on the streets of Paris, Martha became enamored of Edith Piaf at a very young age, drawn to the potent emotions and audacious attitude of the Little Sparrow’s music.
“The song that really excited me was ‘Milord’, which I didn’t include on the record,” Wainwright explains, alluding to Piaf’s 1959 chanson about a plaintive streetwalker. “I was attracted to the lifestyle she described in the song. Perhaps the word would be… carousing?” She laughs. “That European café society way of life seemed so exciting and free, and the audacity of a female talking so openly about such matters! There was nothing prudish about it.”
Though Wainwright grew up swooning over Piaf’s songs, she’s quick to note that paying homage to the great singer on record was not an easy decision. She was loath to create a caricature that, as she puts it, would “pale in comparison” to Piaf’s original versions. It took quite a bit of coaxing from revered producer Hal Willner – a man with a reputation for creating stellar tribute albums – to change her mind.
“It wasn’t Piaf that inspired me to do it,” she admits. “First, it was Hal’s idea. And growing up, it was ingrained in us early on that any singer had the right to interpret any material, that great music wasn’t just about the performer, but also about the song on its own. I had to be careful not to sound too much like her – although one can’t help but get the warble on with these songs. And eventually, she showed up in the room.
“In many ways,” Wainwright continues, “accepting to do this record was a selfish attempt to attach myself to her history.”
Working with Willner, Wainwright adds, was “easy and relaxing.” The great producer has a gift for subtly driving things in the right direction without trampling on the artists he works with, she says. “I learned for the first time about how to let go of the decision-making process, which was a relief.” The process was made even more enjoyable by virtue of her stellar backing band, which included husband and frequent collaborator Brad Albetta.
Learning to let go was a necessary adaptation for Wainwright, who had more than enough on her plate during the making of the record. The singer became pregnant with her first child last spring, but she still managed to perform at London’s Barbican Centre in the fall. “It was funny to do the Piaf thing while I was pregnant,” she says, chuckling. “I was a big fat Piaf, and she was so decidedly un-that – such an anemic little thing.” Her son Arcangelo was born in November in London, England. “I went into labour while I was onstage,” Wainwright exclaims. “At one point, I sat down and the audience gasped!”
And not too long after Wainwright became a mom, her own mother, Kate McGarrigle, passed away after a valiant battle with cancer. As Martha explains, McGarrigle was “a companion” throughout the entire record-making process, from helping vet the song choices (“When my mother heard an English translation of ‘Trois Cloches’, she thought it was terrible. She got on the phone with Hal and said ‘Absolutely not!’”) to mixing and mastering the album.
“It was the last thing we did together,” Martha says. “I knew I needed to bring her into the fold – she has always been my… taste barometer. As soon as Hal came up with the idea, I called her, and she listened to a lot of the songs and pointed out which ones she liked best. ‘C’est Toujours la Même Histoire’ was one of her favourites.
“Mothers can be a pain, but it was very important to have her come down to New York. I reverted back to a teenager around her, and we fought a lot, but I always knew it was the right decision to get Kate involved. I knew she’d make it better. It’s always a gift to make stuff with your family members and have it not be, like, the Von Trapp family.”
To be sure, the smartly selected, beautifully interpreted repertoire on Martha Wainwright’s Piaf album stands at the opposite end of the spectrum from raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Though her early childhood may have been considerably more charmed than that of the famed French chanteuse, Wainwright still has an acute understanding of the passion and pathos at the heart of Piaf’s songs. Martha interprets these entrancing tunes with astounding skill. She allows her amber-toned purr to quiver and crack in precisely the right places during the tremulous accordion-driven ballad “Soudain Une Vallée,” On the powerful rallying cry “Les Grognards,” she deftly delivers the bracing, march-timed melodies with the urgency of a streetwise revolutionary. And on the simply breathtaking “Le Chant D’Amour,” a romantic rhapsody that puts all other love songs to shame, Martha’s smoky, seductive vocals – backed by her mother’s majestic harmonies – are enough to send a listener into fits of shivery ecstasy.
So skilled is Martha Wainwright’s interpretation of this entrancing repertoire, so note-perfect is her tribute to the great Edith Piaf, that you can be forgiven if you lose your bearings while listening to this album. With Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, A Paris: Martha Wainwright Sings Piaf, Martha Wainwright manages to transport herself and her listeners to a smoky, red-velvet opera house in wartime France. Want to read more? Download the .pdf bio here
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