x L'homme Orchestre

x Les Anges

x La Peau De Torpedo

x Le Manège Aux Images

x Mort d'un Guide

This film chronicles the attempt of climbing the west face of the Dru by Michel Servoz, mountain guide and a young aspiring guide, and how this event is lived in the valley by the wife, fiancée, friends and journalists, filmed with realism and truth in the Cosmic.

Michael and Patrick Servoz Falavier been gone five days. The police captain is worried Morteau but can not undertake research for a rescue without the intervention of the family. But Mary wants Servoz respect the wishes of her husband to secrecy on this race. His daughter, Catherine, Patrick Falavier fiancee does not share this opinion. A journalist reveals that Michael Servoz tries climbing the west face of the Dru ...

We find Michel Servoz recounting the circumstances in which Patrick was killed, struck by lightning. A month later, his brother Philip Falavier resumed its ascent with Michel Servoz. Once again the expedition goes awry: Michel Servoz must sacrifice his life to save that of Philip.

x Un Peu, Beaucoup, Passionnément

En vacances

There now follows a break in transmission. Come back in a few months or so for more FdR.

In the meantime, please enjoy this presentation from Gallic nature film genius, Jean Painleve. Jean knew good music when he heard it, not like that old fool Cousteau.

La Mer est Grande

‘La Mer Est Grande’ was a 1974 TV documentary series about life in the Marine Nationale (the French Navy to you and me) centring around the massive aircraft carrier Foch.

The clips I’ve seen are a blur of activity: planes take off, planes land, speedboats burst through the surf, divers dive, big guns are fired, helicopters land, people run about and slide down ladders, decks are swabbed by sailors in stripy tops and berets with pom poms on. The pom pom’s are an odd choice, and remind me of the urban myth that the Marine Nationale’s motto is ‘A l’eau, c’est heure’ (say it out loud in a camp voice).

De Roubaix’s music is suitably swashbuckling, the perfect action packed accompaniment to all the onscreen rushing about.

The theme tune blends shimmering synth lines, an interesting underscore and jaunty calypso rhythms with an energetic, martial approach. It’s exciting and makes you want to join the Navy far more than listening to The Village People.

'Marée Noire' starts off all Pertwee-era 'Dr. Who' before fading into some more analogue synth work, this time complemented by some broken beats and a wailing noise that is part whale song, part banshee, part earache. This then changes tack and becomes a slowish but tense synth noir theme with some nice rimshot drums and subsonics.

'Escale Musicale' is quite a jaunty little experiment in piecing electronics and conventional sounds together to approximate the sound of a swinging nightclub on the Moon, and I mean that as a compliment, although I sometimes sit up and wonder how it fits in with the overall nautical theme.

Diaboliquement Vôtre

'Diaboliquement Votre' (‘Diabolically Yours’ ) was released in 1967, a few months before veteran director Julien Duvivier (in the business since 1919) was killed in a car crash.

In a tragic irony, the plot revolves around a man (Alain Delon, as inscrutable as ever) who awakens from a car crash induced coma only to find that he has no recollection of his sexy wife, alcoholic Doctor best friend, sinister Asian man servant or the palatial mansion where he is sent to recuperate.

Deeply confused, heavily drugged and troubled by disembodied voices that nag at him in the night, he decides to try and forget his troubles by having a crack at his Mrs. Inexplicably (this is Delon, remember) she rejects his advances, making him more suspicious than ever.

In a search for the truth, he stops taking the medication and, as he gradually regains control of himself, begins to recover his memory only to run the risk of losing his mind…

A stylish and occasionally clever film, ‘Diaboliquement Votre’ is ultimately let down by gaping plot holes and far too many illogical, occasionally impossible, twists and turns. It isn’t let down by its music, of course, which, though brief, is prime de Roubaix.

The theme tune is urgent, jazzy, brassy with some crazy bongos and a very cool little electric organ part that has a brief moment o prominence but is mainly content to underpin the horns.

'Machination' is a slow mood piece with the feel of Bernard Hermann's superlative Hitchcock films, but groovier bass and what sounds like a theremin but isn't. Sweet and sinister strings seal the deal.

'Christiane' continues this leitmotif before being interrupted by a gong and a cod-Oriental interlude that blossoms into a very pretty romantic theme before transmuting into a simple but effective piece for organ and vibes and, as regular readers of this weblog will know, I LOVE the vibes.

Smooth stuff. Thanks, Francoise. Thrancs.

Commercial Two

Vibe action in this 1967 ad for parfum featuring a young (or not so young, depending on whether you believe her or her birth certificate) Amanda Lear.



Thanks again to Victor Kiswell for the original upload.

Le Monde Est Profonde Et Humide

'Le Monde Est Profonde Et Humide' ('The World Is Deep and Wet) is a Francois de Roubaix mix which will be broadcast tonight on internet radio show 'The Garden Of Earthly Delights'.

It's a career covering compilation that contains tracks already heard here and some that will pop up in the future all stirred together in a great big melting pot until it gets to the sixty minute mark and just stops.

Music featured is:

Le Monde Et Fou - Miniland - I Want To Suggest - Diaboliquement Vôtre - Dernier Domicile Connu - Le Canal Gelé - Les Aventuriers - Le Voyage De Dominique - Plongée De Glace - L’Antartique - Luna Parking - Jerk Carceral - Just Be Cool - Love Has Gone - Nervous Breakdown - R.A.S - Les Baleines - Valse De Poulpe - Les Prisonniers -La Scoumoune - Le Samourai - Generique Fin - Le Monde Et Fou.

Have a listen to the FdR bit, but you also owe it to yourself to click on this link and check out the whole show.

The artwork for this post is supplied, of course, by the estimable James F.

R.A.S

‘R.A.S’ (1973) is set in 1956, during the Algerian war of independence, a conflict marked by savagery and torture from both sides. The story concerns three conscripts to the French army (an anarchist, a communist, and a political naïf) who, surrounded by bloodshed, have to make up their minds about what’s more important: their convictions, their morality or their survival?

The music is consciously anachronistic, utilising a range of electronic textures that would have been impossible for even the doyens of musique concrete to have created in the film's mid-fifties timeline. To this, de Roubaix adds various martial themes, mixing real and synthetic drums and using his synths to recreate the trumpets and trombones of a military band. It's urgent, occasionally annoying, but never boring.

I haven't seen the film myself, and I do wonder how it all fits together, but I have faith that de Roubaix knew what he was doing. He usually did.

Le Vieux Fusil

'Le Vieux Fusil’ (‘The Old Gun’ - 1975) is a revenge film. It’s pretty bleak, and pretty violent, but it swept the board at the first ever Cesar awards (the French Oscars) including a posthumous Best Music award for Francois de Roubaix, who had died just three months earlier.

The story is set in rural France in 1944 as groups of retreating Germans are ravaging areas of the country previously untouched by war. Jaded surgeon Dandieu, played by baggy old Phillipe Noiret, sends his wife and daughter to a quiet village to keep them from harm. He follows a week later, arriving just in time to see the village over-run and his daughter shot and his wife raped and murdered by Nazis. Unsurprisingly, he sets out to exact a bloody revenge on each and every man involved.

Strong stuff, well executed by director Robert Enrico (one of FdR’s most frequent employers / collaborators) and with an equally strong and well executed score.

'Clara 1939' is a romantic, ballroom type theme used to great effect in flashbacks.

'Le Vieux Fusil 1944' is a dramatic suite that starts with some synth before moving into a powerful, dark passage for strings which in turn gives way to an odd final passage of menacing ambient electronics.

'La Mort' accompanies a scene where a semi-naked woman is burned to death by flamethrower. As you would expect, the music is nightmarish and, towards the end, sounds like the distorted alpha waves of a mind going into shock.

'Le Vieux Fusil' is a maquette, i.e. a demo and is remarkably complete and rather sweet in its homemade feel and slightly plodding preset rhythms and will, I hope, take the taste of 'La Mort' away.

La Vie Commence A Minuit

I’m going to be honest: I don’t know anything about ‘La Vie Commence A Minuit’ other than that it was a 1967 TV show and the title translates, roughly, as ‘life starts at midnight’. Oh, and I also know that FdR wrote the theme music.

It’s a very slight piece, but it’s pretty and delicate and romantic and it makes me smile. Honestly, what else do you need from music when you have people who love you and it's your birthday?

La Blonde de Pékin

Based on a novel by hackmeister supreme James Hadley Chase ‘The Blonde From Peking’ is a fast-paced espionage thriller starring Mirielle Darc as the titular fair haired former oriental resident.

Darc wakes up on a Parisian bench, immaculately groomed but highly confused with no idea how she got there or, indeed, who she is. Quickly identified as the former lover and confidante of China’s top rocket expert, she attracts the attention of the US & USSR who want her secrets, and China, who want her dead. A fairly fast paced espionage thriller that revels in duplicity and secret identity, it’s rather good, occasionally amusing and Darc is gorgeous.

So, some music - 'Malik' is a walking bass type track with knock knock percussion and some marvellously haunting pings.

'Impact' is one long break, with some pretty hip beatnik bongo action.

'Le Raisin Bleu' is to the point: quick and jazzy, with underlying Hammond and a natty, intricate vibraphone part.

'Pekin Banjo' almost does the impossible of making the banjo sound like an instrument that belongs in a spy film or, indeed, any film. I'm assuming this is a mildly humorous interlude, perhaps involving trudging or hitching a ride.

Finally, the title song which, despite some pseudo psych guitar, does itself no favours by being in the trad jazz / dixieland idiom. Its sung by vivacious ye ye girl Annie Phillipe, which begs the question of just how bad Mirielle Darc's voice had to be not to record it herself.

Commercial One

FdR runs the musical gamut in this oppy, poppy ad for top Parisian department store Les Galeries Lafayette.



Thanks to Victor Kiswell for the original upload.

Un premier portrait de de Roubaix

There are some very talented people in the world.

One such very talented person is James Fry, artist / illustrator / designer turned benefactor to the desperate and disenfranchised, i.e. he has kindly donated to us this portrait of the object of our affection. Thanks, James.

You can contact James here, although his website is currently under construction. He does fantastic work and, happily, this is just the first of several de Roubaix illustrations we will be able to show you.

Les Levres Rouges

Two good looking but vacuous newly weds arrive at a deserted, eerie hotel in grey rain-washed Ostend. They are on their honeymoon, but there is something unsavoury about their relationship.

After a few days, two new guests arrive: a beautiful Countess who the elderly desk clerk recognises from far too long ago for it to be the same person, and her sensual secretary, Ilona. They are on holiday, but there is something unsavoury about their relationship.

Shortly afterwards, dead people start turning up around the resort. They are drained of blood and there is something unsavoury about the way they died.

‘Les Levres Rouge’ (commonly known in English as ‘Daughters Of Darkness’) was directed in 1971 by Harry Kumel. A sort of giallo vampire thriller, it’s a well-regarded film and, although it quite often tips into pretension, it’s extremely atmospheric and has a fine performance from the enigmatic Delphine Seyrig as Countess Elisabeth Bathory (something of a clue if you are aware of your vampire history). The film itself doesn’t explicitly present the clichés of vampire films – no fangs, no bats, no garlic – but instead subtly builds up a feeling of dread and ennui and impending doom, with the empty hotel providing the perfect blank, unsettling backdrop to the ever shifting psycho-sexual relationships between the principal characters.

'Les Levres Rouges' ('The Red Lips') is a melancholy piece that showcases a plaintive, wailing and occasionally harsh electric guitar, haunting vibes (probably my favourite instrument), a zither and a violin and accordion section that sounds like a sad waltz in an empty ballroom and gains tempo until it teeters on the manic.

'Les Dunes D'Ostende' is a compendium of the various short musical themes scattered throughout the film, starting out like Jerry Goldsmith's incidental music to 'Planet Of The Apes', all tumbling piano and primitive percussion before quickly passing to a wordless chorus of very high and very low voices, all supplemented by a rather forlorn sounding cello. Strings provide a semi-reprise of the title theme followed by a harp and bass refrain and then, especially for the digging and sampling community, we get a blast of horns and a nice fattish (or is that 'phattish'?) break and close.

The two tracks were released as a single by Barclay Records and now, because of one minute and eleven seconds of drums, is pretty expensive, which begs the question: if someone has already sampled it, what do the other DJ's want it for?

Les Étrangers

'Les Étrangers' (1969) is a crime thriller about a married couple who escape to the desert after the wife (Santa Berger) has killed a gangster who tried to rape her.

Hiding out from The Mob in an abandoned house with their beer drinking mule (don't ask me: this is a synopsis, not a psychiatric assessment) their secrecy and solitary existence soon provokes the suspicion of the local Sheriff, who becomes even more concerned with the arrival of slimy sharp-suited criminal Julian Mateos and his big bag full of stolen diamonds. It doesn't turn out well.

de Roubaix's theme could quite easily have been the title music for a Spaghetti Western, and uses double-tracked guitar, piano, a flute and some well-placed strings to complement the empty melancholy of the desert landscape setting, as well as reflecting the essentially downbeat nature of the tale. It's a wistful little tune that showcases the composer's unerring talent for economically arranged music that sounds simple but carries a complex emotional message.

Les Aventuriers

'Daredevil Pilot...Grand Prix Driver...Wild Beauty...Pitted Against a Pack of Human Sharks!’

Sounds good, doesn’t it? Robert Enrico’s 1967 film ‘Les Aventuriers’ is a rip roaring travelogue of machismo and male bonding, taking in buried treasure, practical jokes, gun play and a largely platonic love triangle played out between best friends Lino Ventura and Alain Delon and beatnik sculptress Joanna Shikmus.

Alain Delon kicks off our musical section with 'Laetitia’, an occasionally pretty song about the Shikmus character that is a third crooned, a third spoken and a third whistled. French film stars (male and female) always seem quite happy to release records, even if their voices weren’t quite up to professional standards, and who are we to stop them?

'Les Aventuriers' uses extremely swinging organ and some intricate guitar interplay to create a suitably energetic lead theme that sounds a little bit like John Barry until you realise that Barry never, ever got this groovy.

'Generique Fin' is a rather sad reprise of the main theme, stripped to piano, bass and organ, with the marked influence of Bach (J.S, not his copycat kids).

Finally, not be outdone by Delon, Joanna Shikmus gets out her guitar and has a go at an alternate theme song. The stark sound is effective, but the tune often gets lost along the way, although, again, I don't begrudge her trying.

Je Suis Sportive

'Les Oiseaux Rares' debuted on ORTV (the French equivalent of the BBC) in March, 1969. Bizarrely split into 60 13-minute episodes it told the whimsical story of a doting Dad, his five daughters and the computer he uses to match them with their ideal husband. Presumably hilarious, despite the youngest daughter being only 16, I haven't seen the show, but, having seen other French sitcoms of the period, can only shudder at the possibility.

On the plus side, however, the show starred the very pretty and talented Claude Jade (later to star in three of Truffaut's four and a half 'Antoine Doinel' films ) and has a theme tune from, well, can you possibly guess?

'Je Suis Sportive' ('I Am Sporting') is a jaunty, cheerful number that starts with tinkling keys, banging drums and lurching strings before revealing its main theme, played on rather posh sounding horns. I particularly like the little cymbal tinkles between verses and the scratchy guitar part, although you'll have to listen closely as it is quickly overpowered by the pomp and pump of the brass and just disappears.

Short but sweet, and completely free, which makes it even sweeter, but not any shorter.

L'Antarctique

'L'Antarctique' is my all time favourite Francois de Roubaix score, although, astonishingly, it was rejected by the production it was written for and was never actually heard on screen.

The music was originally commissioned by Jacques Cousteau as an accompaniment to a several Antartic Ocean set episodes of his long running 'Undersea World' series. de Roubaix, more than happy to combine his twin passions, music and diving, came up with an extraordinarily inventive and evocative score only to have Cousteau turn his not inconsiderable nose up at it as 'too avant garde', the bobble hatted fool.

In actual fact, ultimately the proposed episodes weren't made until after de Roubaix's death, so the rejection may be something of a moot point, but I still see it as something of an injustice given just how good the music is.

L'antarctique itself is extraordinary, simultaneously dramatic and dream-like, perfectly evoking travelling through, across and over the endless white wastes by boat and hot air balloon.

'Survol' has more than a hint of cop show theme about it (albeit one set in the 22nd century) but also makes perfect contextual sense.

'Plongee de Glace' is an amazing electronic piece with sparse, ominous percussion, electronic bubbles, gentle biorhythmic bass notes and what sounds like a drunk playing the pan pipes: the perfect soundtrack for a voyage to the bottom of a frozen ocean.

Incredible stuff, highly recommended.

Ballet Mécanique

'Ballet Mécanique' is the soundtrack to a particularly creepy dream involving a dark corner, a semi-open toy box and a garishly painted clown puppet that won't stop leering at you and, eventually, stands up and starts prancing about.

A track of three parts: the first element starts with a brief nod to Beethoven before developing into a series of insistent clockwork ticks, creaks, cracks, castanets and ruler twangs; the second part is an almost cheesy passage for synth that conjures up the twin spectres of muzak for the cocktail lounge of a space liner and the incidental music for mime artists. The third element, very short, is merely some deep synth quacks and a brief closing statement from de Roubaix himself confirming, once and for all, that, yes, he was definitely French.

I can't get that clown puppet out of my head now.

Tante Zita

'Tante Zita' (1968) stars Johanna Shimkus as a naive and slightly spoiled young woman in her early twenties who, faced with the imminent death of a much loved Aunt, spends the night wandering around the Paris streets making chance acquaintances, learning about life, love and loss and generally growing up a bit.

'Le Monde Est Fou' ('The World Is Insane') is the recurring theme and it's a winner, featuring regal strings, insidious electric organ, extremely jazzy piano played by someone with very loose hands, and an odd middle eight that sounds like somebody's hammering away at a skeleton's rib cage with a pair of chop sticks.

'Loin'('Far') pre-empts Stereolab by 25 years and is a wispy ballad with a snaking string part, a harpsichord and breathy vocals from star Shimkus presumably delivered whilst looking thoughtfully into the distance. An interesting track that's almost impossible to hum, but has a great arrangement and lots going on.

'Miniland 2' is a swinging club jerk with some great bass sax and biscuit tin drums. Listen out for the classic five note guitar solo, so succinct and effortlessly cool.

'Love Has Gone' is a reprise of the bonkers world track, here performed in the black American Soul idiom by white French beat group Les Sharks. The lyrics sound awful in English, which may be why the singer seems to lose interest halfway through.

Saint Tropez...Vole

Whilst we're on Bardot (now there's a vivid image) please accept this bonus track, 'Ecoute Les Temps', as written by de Roubaix for her 1971 TV Special 'Saint Tropez...Vole'.

It's a nice little song and although Brigitte doesn't do an awful lot with it, there's muted brass and delicate piano to look forward to, as well as a deceptively simple but very pretty acoustic guitar part which I never tire of hearing.

I haven't seen the show, but I imagine this plays as she wanders around the market eating an apple and looking moderately attractive.

Les Novices

'Les Novices' is a 1970 comedy about a fun-loving Nun who meets a prostitute and decides to see how the other half live (and love).

Obviously, not based on a true story, the film stars pneumatic 36 year old Brigitte Bardot as the uncertain novice, with Annie Giradot as Mona Lisa, the working girl who leads her into dirty habits (the puns are a medical with me, I'm afraid, it has a Latin name and everything). Ultimately, of course, Sister Brigitte has to decide whether she prefers the convent or the street, leading to a surprise ending you can see coming a kilometre off.

Not a great film, but occasionally quite good fun, 'Les Novices' is blessed with just enough music by Francois de Roubaix to make a highly collectable EP.

The title track and reprise are knockabout rinky dinky songs that give Bardot and Girdarot the chance to stretch their lungs and are of little interest to anyone but the completist but, of course, there's more to the EP than that.

'My World Is You' is an occasionally poignant filmic Euro ballad sung beautifully by transplanted US supper club singer Nancy Holloway.

'Just Be Cool' (as recorded by Fire Exit) is a cracking, drum break driven horn monster that would grace any swinging discotheque from Londres to Belgrade and all Gallic and non-Gallic points between.

If you see the EP, you should buy it, but be warned: it's quite expensive for 10 minutes and 45 seconds of music.

Luna Parking

Inevitably, there are a number of de Roubaix compositions that do not form part of a larger soundtrack, or were perhaps created for productions that may not merit a post of their own.

One such track is the wonderful piece of music that gives this weblog its handle: 'Luna Parking'.

Showcasing de Roubaix's later interest in electronic music, 'Luna Parking' is an extremely cheerful jingle with any number of analogue synths and homemade devices burbling away in the back and foreground (de Roubaix liked to build instruments almost as much as he liked to play them).

A treated human voice also appears, crooning and intoning over the hubbub. I'm assuming the singer is de Roubaix himself, and he acquits himself well, especially when he starts scatting towards the end.

This track always reminds me of the Apollo astronauts gleefully bouncing and go karting across the surface of the Moon. Parking was not a problem.

Dernier Domicile Connu

'Dernier Domicile Connu' ('Last Known Address', 1970) is a tough Policier about a decorated Detective who arrests a well-connected man and finds himself relegated to a sleepy backwater - until he's assigned to a missing persons case the authorities don't want him to solve.

Starring Lino Ventura (an Italian with the face and build of a boxer who made a career in France), the film itself is a very effective and pretty downbeat thriller that deserves to be better known. Writer and director José Giovanni draws on his criminal background (he was once sentenced to the guillotine for his part in a fatal burglary) to create a gritty world of violence and disillusion, and Ventura is perfect as the world-weary, but still principled, policeman on what he knows is his last shot at redemption.

de Roubaix's score is superb. The title track starts with a flurry of ethnic percussion before leading into a driving string section that typifies the dogged determination of door to door enquiry. Undershot with short stings of electric guitar and some swinging drums, it's been sampled to death, most notably by Missy Elliott and, least notably, by Robbie Williams.

'Les Maniaques' jauntily reprises the theme before dissolving into a suspense filled passage of percussive bangs, taps and xylophonic trills.

'Pour Quoi, Pour Quoi' is a classic 'vocal version of the title theme over the closing credits', somewhat stridently performed here by temperamental chanteuse Nicoletta.

Le Samouraï

Francois de Roubaix wrote music for fifty film and television productions but, outside of France, the productions themselves remain relatively obscure. 'Le Samouraï' is one of the exceptions, a world famous film from a great director that has had a massive influence on several generations of film makers, as well as on the wardrobe of everyone that watches it.

Directed in 1967 by Jean-Pierre Melville, 'Le Samouraï'is a typically existential look at organised crime, represented here by snap brim hat and trench coat clad hit man Jeff Costello (Alain Delon, never more enigmatic). The message seems to be yes, it's a dirty, scuzzy business, but there's no reason why we can't be personally heroic about it, and look really cool at the same time.

The title music features the suspended chords and plucked strings you would expect from a crime thriller, but supplements these with some sinister accordion (a de Roubaix speciality) and an intricate, cerebral tocatta like theme that seems to perfectly reflect the labyrinthine twists and turns of the on screen action.

'Fatalitie' is an atmospheric vibes and string led variation on a theme, downbeat and reflective at first then increasingly urgent.

'Jeff Et Jeanne' is part Bud Powell, part J.S Bach, jazzy and intricate.

Finally, 'Le Destin de Costello' wraps it all up, reprising the main theme and adding some wonderful Miles Davis like trumpet. Short but memorable, like Napoleon, or Ernie Wise.

Bon Anniversaire

Dead people's birthdays are always poignant occasions, especially when, really, they should still be alive.

Francois de Roubaix would have been seventy one years old today.

Happy birthday, Monsieur. I hope you like the weblog.