Label: Vogue
Considering the desire by reissue labels to help the average vinyl enthusiast be able to finally afford those gems from the past that would otherwise cost them a pair of appendages, it’s a wonder it took this long for someone to get around to bring the work of Françoise Hardy back into print.
Of all the female French pop stars that blossomed in the early-to-mid-’60s, Hardy had the largest crossover appeal. Some of that had to do with her earthy beauty that fit well alongside the rail-thin fashion icons of the day and helped secure her the adoration of pop icons like Mick Jagger and Bob Dylan. But what really translated across all borders was her voice. Her singing was as alluring as her contemporaries’ while standing apart from France Gall’s girly chirp and Sylvie Vartan’s kittenish purr. Hardy’s voice was melancholic and direct, evoking earth tones and autumn amid the primary-color pop art of the era. She didn’t have great range, but she used it so very well, evoking joy, sorrow and longing with only the slightest changes of inflection.