So many months ago, someone tagged me on Facebook in a post looking for an artist to sing French chansons for a private event. As I've learned more than once, Facebook - with all its niggles - can often yield cool offers. Really. It amazes me that people close their account on the social network when the deal of their life or the girl of their dreams might suddenly appear there, among the mountains of business pages.
In any case, the very next day I contacted the lady who posted the message. “Yes, listen, this is crazy,” she told me. “Dozens of artists came to me with different and strange offers. Your offer sounds right to me, in terms of the hardware you mentioned and also in terms of the price, but… I have to hear you sing in French. “Mmm,” I thought to myself with a little sadness when I remembered that I had never bothered to record myself humming or jiving in my native language.
I dug through old files, pulled out burned CDs of rehearsals from a decade ago – and nothing. Finally, I went back to her apologetically and offered to send her links to some original materials on YouTube, so she could be impressed. “No need,” she announced confidently. “Come sing to me on the phone.” And so I found myself performing something by Jacques Berle for her, slightly distorting the lyrics along the way. Jacques Berle might have suffocated me, but the lady melted there on the other side of the phone. “You’re accepted!” she finally muttered, her voice choked with tears. “Let’s close out the details…”
The story of Sebek
So: Somewhere many years ago, a young boy named Sebek Parket emigrated from Poland to France. He lived there for a good few years (including hiding during World War II) and in 1949 he immigrated to the Land of Israel. Despite the difficulties, his youth in Paris was characterized by many cultural thrills and he fell in love mainly with the French music that was being played at the time: Edith Piaf, Charles Ternay, Yves Montaigne and more.
When he left for Israel and started a family (he had already met his wife here), he continued to listen to French chansons on various radio stations, eagerly following every new artist and every interesting piece that was played. That's how he also discovered Charles Aznavour, Jacques Berle, Barbara, Georges Moustaki and Gilbert Boc. In honor of his 90th birthday, the family decided to give him the most beautiful gift they could imagine: an hour-long show with all the great chansons that accompanied his life performed in French, as close as possible to the original.
On the appointed day, Sebak and I met in Kfar Yona, in his daughter's living room (she was the lady who invited me to come), surrounded by family members, children, and loving grandchildren. When I pulled out the guitar, I tried to think as if I were playing for my immediate family, the French family: my parents, grandparents, and uncles. I saw my own childhood in Paris (up until the age of 5), and I could really feel the smells and sounds and colors that filled my parents' house, and that helped.
Within minutes, Sebak joined me and sang in his throat the words of almost all the songs, excited and beaming with happiness. Then we sat and talked about France And he told me amazing stories and experiences he had and continued to sing a lot of songs I didn't know and some that I even regretted not including in the show. Forget about the money, what an amazing evening it was. May God bless Facebook. And France and dear Sebak of course.
Want to learn more about Noam's music? Visit his artist pageThese days Noam is working on a new album with chansonnier touches. Want to help the album come out? Go to the following link.