Samanth Subramanian

In Mint today, a Raagtime column on the music of Edith Piaf — on her oddly melancholy voice, which so often conflicted with the optimism of her lyrics:

It is a peculiar quality of Piaf’s voice that even the jauntiest song seems to brim with latent pain. “I don’t regret anything at all,” she sings in Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, but she sounds rueful as she declares it; later in the same song, she declares that she doesn’t care about the past, but to listen to her sing is to believe otherwise. In my early Piaf days, when I was content to simply float along with her music, I was convinced that Comme Moi was an anthem of disconsolation. Later, hunting down translations of her lyrics, I found that Piaf was actually exulting in her “heart overwhelmed by joy” and having “the best time of her life”. I’ve never had to re-evaluate a song as radically as I did Comme Moi.

More here.