ESC Dublin 1971 — “Un banc, un arbre, une rue”

Eurovision 1971

full show

Date: 3 April 1971
Venue: Gaiety Theatre, Dublin
Winning country: Monaco (1^st win)
Winning entry: Séverine, “Un banc, un arbre, une rue”

---

Four months ago, when we last talked about the ESC, I led with the fact that “All Kinds of Everything” was my first experience of the Contest: I first listened to it when I was five or six, and when I started getting into Eurovision I discovered that it was also my first contact with Europe’s biggest cultural event, and was accordingly amazed. About ten seconds after that realisation, however, the 1971 winner arrived on the screen of my iPad, at which point I discovered that my connection with the show stretched back even further: the annual Miss Hong Kong Pageant has used an instrumental version rearranged by Paul Mauriat (he of “Love is Blue” fame) as its theme tune since its 1973 debut on television; and even though I’ve never been THAT into beauty contests it’s still something of a childhood memory. It’s not just me, either: there are people around town who have never even heard of the Eurovision Song Contest, and yet they probably can hum the chorus from beginning to end.

And yet given a choice between the two, I wouldn’t even hesitate before going for Dana. Part of this is just down to “first version wins”: having grown up with Mauriat’s stately cover ringing in my ears, it feels odd to be contemplating this forceful version as the original — there should be a piano, horn stabs, a woman in an ugly dress balancing an unwieldy tiara on her head. The Eurovision version replaces all of this with the hugeness of Séverine’s voice: no sooner has the song begun, then she attempts to blow us all away with the chorus. “WE ALL HAVE A BENCH, A TREE, A STREET,” she howls, “A CHILDHOOD… THAT WAS TOO SHORT.” I didn’t know that this song even had lyrics or even a verse until I started looking into Eurovision history; that grand, expansive chorus was basically all I needed, and it feels extra.

It feels so extra, in fact, that looking them up actually worsens your experience of the song. Because a cursory glance at said lyrics reveals that they are, quite frankly, meaningless piffle: not in the sense that they are indecipherable or read like they were written by a seven-year-old child, but in that they indulge in the kind of insipid philosophising that is often mistaken for real insight. What, for instance, does a bench or a tree have to do with the brevity of childhood? What does the return of children’s clothing have to do with anything? This is a song that pulls out image after mental image without developing any of them further; if not for the identical melody, the second verse would seem like a crude graft from another song altogether. “But if we share nothing, what else would we have in common… in common?” asks the song, seemingly oblivious that nothing in the song has prepared us for this ham-fisted encouragement of commonality.

We’ll get to the specifics of Eurovision’s tendency for “love love peace peace”ing when (if?) we do 1979, but for now what interests me is how these banal lyrics, which would surely be laughed out of a model UN club, are here proudly declaimed with the straightest of faces. This is particularly intriguing when you consider who’s behind this song: the surtitles might say Monaco, but this is a French entry in all but name, with singer and songwriters all coming from across the border; the result unsurprisingly feels rather Gallic (although come to think of it, what might make a song “Monegasque” is pretty hard to define). As we’ve seen throughout previous posts, the French have a pretty odd approach to lyrics in Eurovision: sometimes they go for light little vignettes about lying fantasists, but most of the time they go for philosophical, misty-eyed poetry, poetry that makes a point about the world. This is not a problem in itself (after all, that’s the whole point of Eurovision, in both past and present) but the French variety always feels slightly didactic, slightly self-important.

Consider, for instance, this line: “Everyone, in their own corner of the horizon/ Only defends their ambitions, their ambitions”. Séverine delivers this line while staring angrily at the audience and clenching her fist, as if to accuse them of complicity in this self-interest — but I’m not sure about how much of a moral high ground she can claim. Chris West flags this song, with its condemnation of selfishness, as a subtle rebuke of “the evils of the Anglo-Saxon economical model”, but France was on a similar path and, thanks to de Gaulle, couldn’t exactly claim the greatest track record when it came to “sharing things”. With that in mind, one can’t hear “Un banc, un arbre, une rue” and its appeals to humanity and to shared interests without grimacing at its hypocrisy — what is this French entry doing, proxy speaking through its neighbours and behaving (once more) like the wisest smartarse in the room?

None of this, however, should be taken as a knock on Séverine, whose powerful performance is suitably soaring and lends the whole venture a bit of (much-needed) gravitas; it is mostly because of her complete sincerity that “Un banc, un arbre, une rue” doesn’t wholly come across as a condescending lecture. But it feels like a continuation of the illusion of Gallic/Gaullist and European prestige, the idea that France and its allies were still the ones with moral clarity — and judging by the belted chorus, they still felt the need to fling it in everybody’s face. It’s a philosophy that already felt outdated back in 1956, and here its imminent collapse becomes evident: all the sound and fury barely disguising a bunch of toothless nothing lyrics, strung together with the flimsiest of excuses. The result is a song that feels like the proverbial drunk uncle at a dinner party, loudly expounding on his outdated views to anyone who’ll listen — never heeding the fact that the people around them have already left to build their own, happier futures.

Rating: 3/10

---

Best song

I’ve given the UK a lot of credit for their perennial seconds, but at the turn of the 70s Spain was on a hot streak to rival the British: after two consecutive wins, here they come back and grab second with a song about staying the course. I don’t really like “En un mundo nuevo” — it’s lively and exciting, but just a bit too loud for me — but I can see where it’s coming from, and I respect it for that. Behind her was Katja Ebstein, replicating her result for Germany from last year (although for what it’s worth, “Diese Welt” is a slightly more memorable tune than her last entry); as with Udo Jürgens, those disappointed with her perennial third-places will be heartened to hear that we’ll be seeing her again later. 🙂

I’ll level with you, this year was an extremely meh year: out of the 18 participating songs this year, I doubt I could even hum you three at a pinch. This even extends to my third place, France: sure, Serge Lama is a charismatic singer and “Un jardin sur la terre” is beautiful, but all I remember of the performance is of him gesticulating and being dramatic. A catchy melody is just indispensable — a point further proven by Luxembourg, who sent out Monique Melsen to do the breezy “Pomme, pomme, pomme”; the song might be slightly creepy with the cutesy girl vibes it gives off, but it stands out from the louder ballads, and I love it for that. But for me, the best song — the best balance of melody and lyrics — came from Switzerland, whose delightful ballad “Les illusions de nos vingt ans” is a clear (if somewhat polite) call for the next generation to step aside and let the young ‘uns live a little. The trio of Peter, Sue and Marc would continue to sporadically represent Switzerland throughout the next decade, each time singing a different language; yet I don’t think they ever topped their initial offering, so lush and gentle it is.

PLACE	ACTUAL RESULTS	MY PICKS
1st	Monaco, “Un banc, un arbre, une rue”	Switzerland, “Les Illusions de nos vingt ans”
2nd	Spain, “En un mundo nuevo“	Luxembourg, “Pomme, pomme, pomme“
3rd	Germany, “Diese Welt“	France, “Un jardin sur la terre“

---

Next Time

Hippies, hedonism and psychedelia? Please. That was so 1967.