Johnny Hallyday - "Rivière Ouvre Ton Lit" (1969)

Originally known as “The French Elvis Presley” for his pompadour, chiseled sneer, and hip-swinging ability to make teenaged girls shriek, Johnny Hallyday (born Jean-Philippe Smet), arguably France’s biggest rock star, is stylistically much closer to a David Bowie or a Madonna: a show-biz lifer with the chameleon-like ability to stay relevant by updating his music with the times. Astute, talented, and enduring, Hallyday has enjoyed over five full decades of top-of-the-charts success with nary a commercial lull.

In the late 1960’s, while the King himself was still struggling to overcome a decade’s worth of artistically bankrupt movies and soundtracks, Hallyday was hitting yet another creative peak. Having already squeezed the juice out of rockabilly, Motown, and Beatles covers (his frenetic version of “Got To Get You Into My Life” is magnificent and worth checking out), Hallyday dove head-first into acid rock. He assembled a stellar group of his musician friends that included Peter Frampton (then still just ‘the guitarist from Humble Pie’) and the entirety of the Small Faces to record his farewell to the 60’s. The resulting album, “Rivière... Ouvre Ton Lit,” released in 1969, was an au courant kaleidoscope of psychedelic blues rock. Rhythm section Ronnie Lane (bass) and Kenney Jones (drums), in particular, destroy mightily throughout the album. Hallyday and company concoct a heavy, spacious sound that mirrored the nascent proto-metal that bands from the Jeff Beck Group to Deep Purple were simultaneously devising across the Channel.

Leading the turbulent charge is a very confident, excited-sounding Hallyday. His gruff voice is in fine youthful form, only beginning to betray the cracks that would deepen and mature his singing in the decades ahead. Placing himself front and center of the maelstrom from the first moments of the opening (and title) track, Hallyday sings himself into a froth within the first 30 seconds and never looks back. The band matches his bubbling-over passion in breathless simpatico. By the time Hallyday finally unleashes a falsetto whoop at the song’s finale over Jones’ triumphant cymbal crashes, the sense of hard-won closure is palpable—and that's only the first track. Goodbye 60’s; hello future.

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Trust - "La Grande Illusion" (1981)

They were pals with original AC/DC vocalist Bon Scott; they collaborated with British punks Sham 69; they had a significant influence on the British New Wave of heavy metal; and they were wildly, wildly popular. They were, of course, Trust: one of France’s biggest heavy metal acts of the 1980’s.

Formed in the late 70’s during the genre’s worldwide flirtation with boogie (think Thin Lizzy meets AC/DC), Trust, led by imminent national heroes Bernard “Bernie” Bonvoisin (vocals) and Norbert “Nono” Krief (guitar), embraced a tough-minded socialist stance that paralleled the Clash’s earnest sloganeering: hitting the right targets (greedy corporations, apathetic citizens, the KGB) but ultimately valuing the music more than nuanced commentary. That said, compared to their American metal contemporaries (Van Halen, Quiet Riot) who were then just beginning to conquer MTV, Trust’s songs certainly do flex some intellectual muscle alongside Bonvoisin’s snarling vocal caterwauls and Krief’s up-the-neck guitar pyrotechnics.

Trust never rocked harder than they did in 1981, when their killer lineup also boasted the legendary Nicko McBrain (who would leave Trust in 1982 to join Britain’s Iron Maiden in time to work on their amazing “Piece Of Mind” album). Trust’s 1981 release, “Marche Ou Crève,” remains a start-to-finish thrill ride with at least three enduring classics: the proto-thrash title track, thundering closer “Ton Dernier Acte,” and opening salvo “La Grande Illusion.”

“La Grande Illusion” is no Dennis DeYoung fruity synthesizer foppery. Crafting a double-pronged attack on France’s corrupt politicians as well as the listless populous who would cede them power, Bonvoisin delivers his vocals with typical guttural passion. My favorite lyric translates roughly as “my bulldozer is the symbol of a youth that denies all your political skullduggery,” which sounds like a mouthful but is delivered with a sly, Phil Lynott-style swagger. McBrain pummels the daylights out of his kit while Krief shreds flaming sparks out of his guitar. The song’s closing mantra reminds everyone of the power of their own voice: “Vote! Vote! Vote! Vote!”

In fact, once Socialist Party representative François Mitterrand was elected Prime Minister of France in 1981 and reversed 23 years of Conservative government, Trust’s anti-establishment agenda no longer seemed as relevant. Plus, the band couldn’t hold onto a drummer. Rather than devolve into the type of bombastic cartoons that much of heavy metal was morphing into at that time (Bon Jovi, Def Leppard), Trust wisely called it a day in the mid-80’s.

click the image below to listen to song previews or buy the album: