Milestones

Téléphone

Name: Téléphone – Dure limite
Item: Dure limite
Author: Federico Romagnoli

Dure limite

1982 (Virgin)

new wave, power pop

by Federico Romagnoli

When in 2010 the French edition of Rolling Stone published its list of the hundred greatest national rock albums of all time, Téléphone boasted four albums in the top thirty, the highest of which, "Dure limite", stood at number three.

The ranking actually looks quite questionable and heavily skewed toward a handful of names, not to mention the lack of clarity over what counts as rock and what doesn't: still, Téléphone's strong showing is direct proof of the esteem they're held in, despite having split up back in 1986.

Before the arrival of the Noir Désir, Téléphone were by far the band most beloved by local critics, and to this day they remain the only ones who can stand comparison with Bertrand Cantat and his bandmates; far less fortunate, on the other hand, were the Indochine, who, despite being the best-selling act, were obtusely opposed by journalists for reasons that had nothing to do with the music.

Téléphone were, in fact, the first French band to become sales champions while also managing to leave a mark on the collective imagination. In the the Seventies some folk-area groups and prog had actually done rather well in terms of sales, particularly Ange, Malicorne and Tri Yann, though without dominating the scene, carving out instead a niche apart from the chansonnier : what's more, to this day only Tri Yann keep their memory alive, while the other names from that scene remain the preserve of a handful of enthusiasts.

Téléphone were the first to prove they could compete with the leading solo singers, and their songs have withstood the passing of time and of fashions.

It must be said that their stylistic formula helped them in this respect: it's one thing to withstand the wear of time with music that was completely rejected by the chart-oriented output of the following decades, as happened to the prog (even in Italy the big names of that scene, who at the time sold very well, are today remembered only by those who lived through it firsthand, and little else), it's another thing entirely to do so as a band whose rock sound is far more in line with what the general public identifies with the term, that is, songs of average length, linear structures, riffs instantly gripping and with infectious choral breaks. This obviously doesn't mean that Téléphone's music is simplistic: appeal to a wide audience doesn't imply carelessness or a lack of quality in what's on offer.

When they set about recording “Dure limite”, the subject of this article, Téléphone were already firmly established: their first three albums, all recorded in London with the backing of Pathé, had sold more than a million copies combined. “Téléphone” (1977) was produced by Mike Thorne, who had just finished the sessions for “Pink Flag” by the Wire, while for “Crache ton venin” (1979) and “Au cœur de la nuit” (1980) the band turned to Martin Rushent, who had already worked with Stranglers e Buzzcocks.

Having signed a contract with Virgin, with an advance of five million francs (over two million euros at today's exchange rate), the band headed to Toronto, where between March and April 1982 they recorded the new album, which hit stores on the following June 3rd.

The four members appear on the cover, as they always had until then: from left to right, lead guitarist Louis Bertignac, bassist Corine Marienneau, rhythm guitarist and singer Jean-Louis Aubert, and drummer Richard Kolinka.

This time the producer is none other than Bob Ezrin, the most prestigious name they'd worked with up to that point. With the change of label and more commercial ambitions than ever, the band undergoes a notable shift: whereas until then their music sat at the crossroads of hard rock and the more arty end of post-punk, the new formula still features distorted guitars, but the production's sonic grain is smoother, closer to the new wave chart-friendly sound (for the first time keyboards appear), while the hooks grow catchier and the rhythmic drive loses some of its heaviness, eventually leaning into power pop.

On the whole the band is still perfectly recognizable, and even though their music now appeals to an even wider audience, their artistic integrity hasn't been compromised: the instrumental foundations turn out to be more varied than was typically the case on records operating in similar sonic territory at the time (Go-Go's, dB's, Hoodoo Gurus and the like). This new incarnation of Téléphone could almost be seen as a hypothetical version of Cheap Trick capable of navigating the shifts in fashion and technology that took place in the the Eightiesrather than fading away for good with the arrival of the new decade.

The above obviously doesn't apply to the lyrics, which inevitably bear the mark of the chansonnier (Jacques Higelin in particular, whose path repeatedly crossed with the band's) and are far more socially and politically engaged than their English-speaking counterparts.

The album opens with the title trackwhich is introduced by Aubert's jangle pop guitar, before veering into a chorus reminiscent of Whomarked by Bertignac's acrobatic guitar runs and Kolinka's drum fills acting as a bridge between two different eras of rock.

The lyrics, part love song and part metaphor for a world split by the Berlin Wall, gradually shift from the romantic introspection of the opening lines to the militant analysis of the closing ones:

Is this the desire?

Where is your body?

Is this our life

that keeps it going still?

Is it your happiness

or is it my honor

that keeps me prisoner

or that makes me a jailer?

It's habit,

always with the same attitude,

the emptiness of every day

and the lack of love.

It's love, a strange love,

it's the sweetness of your caresses, my heart.

A hard border, a wall of love,

a hard border, an immature love.

Wall, broken glass shards,

fences and dogs standing guard,

everyone on guard, everyone on guard,

the borders, yesterday's failures,

the other lands, all our graveyards.

And the Berlin wall never ends,

not the Berlin wall,

you have one, I have one,

it cuts the Earth in two,

like a great apple,

it cuts your head in two,

a bit like the first apple,

it cuts your head in two,

and it makes you woman or man,

if you want,

the serpent winds its way between two lands

and makes you fight every war

The lyrics of “Ça (c’est vraiment toi)”, purely sentimental in tone, are perhaps less interesting, but the band sidesteps convention by pairing them with a galloping rhythm straddling new wave, garage rock and rockabilly, topped off with a chorus that's punk choral and aggressive. It remains to this day one of the most famous French-language rock songs.

An electric organ pops up in the chorus of “Jour contre jour”, partly arena rock, its arpeggio not coincidentally similar to that of “(Don't Fear) The Reaper” by the Blue Öyster Cult, partly close to the alternative-leaning guitar pop that was emerging right around that time, while “Ex-Robin des Bois” edges toward the pop punk of the Undertones.

The lyrics are interesting, a critique of the sense of satisfaction felt by many socialist activists after the electoral victory won by François Mitterrand on 10 May 1981, which put an end to decades of unbroken Gaullism:

Roger has been an activist for twenty-one years,

Roger took his time,

and meanwhile he's moving forward,

friendly, sociable,

like his parents and his grandparents,

Roger has achieved what we call change

Ex Robin Hood, no longer runs through the woods,

Ex Robin Hood, works for the king.

Roger and his comrades used to toil

hand in hand,

hope after work,

they were building tomorrow,

union meetings, fundamental ideas,

writing in the paper, radical positions,

and the red and black manifesto

with the words “change”.

Ex Robin Hood, he's no longer an outlaw,

Ex Robin Hood, he works for the king,

but after May 10th

Roger has changed a lot,

he spends his evenings in front of the television,

listening, watching,

others quote him, others govern,

and the same people speak to the President

If Aubert is a singer perfectly suited to the attitude on display, with a voice capable of delivering lines at breakneck speed, clean melodic lines, gruffness when needed, and full-lunged peaks, the band still decides to shake things up by handing a couple of songs to other members.

“Le chat” is thus sung by Mariennau (something that had only happened once before, in 1979's “Ne me regarde pas”): the bassist also dominates the instrumental track, a kind of new-wave-era mutation of rhythm and blues and of Fifties vocal jazz (it brings to mind “Fever” by Little Willie John, particularly in the Peggy Lee version), complete with a saxophone solo.

Bertignac, meanwhile, carves out her own space on “Cendrillon”, showcasing a voice that is delicate and perfectly suited to its own uncertainties. The track, an ethereal anthem jangle popbecomes the album's second big hit, helped along by lyrics that address the vulnerabilities faced by women in a society that does too little to support single mothers, drug addicts, and young women in general dealing with the typical struggles of France's suburban areas at the time, complete with a jab at organized religion in the closing lines:

Cinderella, turning twenty

is the prettiest of the girls,

her handsome lover,

Prince Charming,

welcomes her onto his white horse.

She loses track of time

in her silver palace.

So as not to see another day dawning,

she closes her eyes

and in her dreams

is leaving,

a nice little story.

Cinderella, at thirty years old,

is the saddest of mothers,

her Prince Charming has run off

with Sleeping Beauty.

And she's watched a hundred white horses,

far away from her, carry off her children.

So she starts drinking,

dragging herself from bar to bar,

wrapped in her depression,

now she walks the streets.

Ten years of this life were enough

to turn her into an addict

and into an endless sleep

Cinderella sees her life coming to an end.

The lights dance on the ambulance,

but she kills her last hope,

none of it matters anymore.

Our Father, who art so old,

did you really do your best?

Because on earth and in the heavens,

your angels don't want to grow old

The finale is reserved for “Ce soir est ce soir”, created with the help of Ivan Král, reworking a melodic line that the guitarist of the Patti Smith Group had initially proposed to Iggy Pop, only to have it turned down. As admirers of Smith, whose influence was especially evident on their early albums, Téléphone don't let the chance slip by when Ezrin offers it to them.

Six minutes long, the song alternates an atmospheric verse, dominated by a bare-bones bassline, with a choral chorus that seems to bring a ray of light into the night. Aubert's lyrics describe a young man walking through Paris, trying to make sense of the confusion inside him, in a kind of manifesto on urban alienation with intergenerational overtones (words that, after all, still ring true today):

Walking on the Grand Boulevards

amid a crowd of gaunt people

and I'm not going anywhere.

I walk along the Grand Boulevard

and look for your gaze,

but you can't see me.

I can't go on,

I need to rest,

share your pillow,

I've been awake for far too long.

And all along the long avenue,

mawkish films on Saturday night,

I'm sailing along a coast with no lighthouse,

light my way.

Tonight is tonight, I need to see,

tonight is tonight, I need to believe it.

Reflections on biotite

like ghosts with faded skin,

I think I'm falling on the sidewalk,

black hole.

Tonight is tonight, I need to hope,

tonight is tonight, I need to believe

“Dure limite” becomes the band's first album to reach number 1 and sells over 750,000 copies, making it the second best-selling French album among those released in 1982 (only beaten by the self-titled album by Jean-Jacques Goldman, now better known as “Quand la musique est bonne”).

The follow-up, “Un autre monde” (1984), although initially stalling at number 2, actually manages to surpass it, settling above 850,000 copies sold, after which the tensions among the members become irreconcilable, leading to the band's breakup (it wasn't even a given that the band would last ten years, considering the tensions that plagued it from the very start: Aubert was in fact opposed to having a woman in the lineup, though he later changed his mind).

Aubert went on to achieve considerable success as a solo artist, while between 2015 and 2017 the band reunited for a series of concerts, although performing under the name Les Insus rather than their original name, due to the absence of Marienneau, with whom it's rumoured the necessary reconciliation has yet to take place. On 16 September 2017 the trio, backed by young bassist Aleksander Angelov, performed at the Stade de France, marking the final triumph of a legendary career.

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28/09/2024

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Federico Romagnoli, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition