Aristide Bruant

Aristide Bruant Poems

Aristide Bruant Biography

Aristide Bruant (6 May 1851 – 10 February 1925) was a French cabaret singer, comedian, and nightclub owner. He is best known as the man in the red scarf and black cape featured on certain famous posters by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. He has also been credited as the creator of the chanson réaliste musical genre. Born Louis Armand Aristide Bruant in the village of Courtenay, Loiret in France, Bruant left his home in 1866 at age fifteen, following his father's death, to find employment. Making his way to the Montmartre Quarter of Paris, he hung out in the working-class bistros, where he finally was given an opportunity to show his musical talents. Although bourgeois by birth, he soon adopted the earthy language of his haunts, turning it into songs that told of the struggles of the poor. Bruant began performing at cafe-concerts and developed a singing and comedy act that led to his being signed to appear at the Le Chat Noir club. Dressed in a red shirt, black velvet jacket, high boots, and a long red scarf, and using the stage name Aristide Bruant, he soon became a star of Montmartre, and when Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec began showing up at the cabarets and clubs, Bruant became one of the artist's first friends. In 1885, Bruant opened his own Montmartre club, a place he called "Le Mirliton". Although he hired other acts, Bruant put on a singing performance of his own. As the master of ceremonies for the various acts, he used the comedy of the insult to poke fun at the club's upper-crust guests who were out "slumming" in Montmartre. His vaudeville-inspired mix of song, satire and entertainment developed into the musical genre called chanson réaliste (realist song). Bruant died in Paris and was buried in the cimetière de Subligny, near his birthplace in the département of Loiret. A street in Paris was named in his honor.)

The Best Poem Of Aristide Bruant

Philosophe

Va, mon vieux, va comme j'te pousse,
A gauche, à droit', va, ça fait rien!
Va, pierr' qui roule amass' pas mousse.
J'm'appell' pas Pierre et je l'sais bien.
Quand j'étais p'tit j'm'app'lais Emile,
A présent on m'appelle Eloi;
Va, mon vieux, va, n'te fais pas d'bile,
T''es dans la ru', va, t'es chez toi.

Va, mon vieux, pouss'-toi d'la ballade
En attendant l'jour d'aujourd'hui,
Va donc, ya qu'quand on est malade
Qu'on a besoin d'pioncer la nuit;
Tu t'portes ben, toi, t'as d'la chance,
Tu t'fous d'la chaud, tu t'fous d'la foid,
Va, mon vieux, fais pas d'rouspétance,
T'es dans la ru', va, t'es chez toi.

De quoi donc ?… on dirait d'un merle,
Ej' viens d'entende un coup d'sifflet!…
Mais non, c'est moi que j'lâche eun' perle,
Sortez donc, Monsieur, s'i' vous plaît…
Ah ! mince, on prend des airs de flûte,
On s'régale d'un p'tit quant-à-soi…
Va, mon vieux, pèt' dans ta culbut',
T'es dans la ru', va, t'es chez toi.

D'abord ej' comprend pas qu'on s'gêne,
Ej'suis ami d'la liberté,
J'fais pas ma Sophi', mon Ugène,
Quand ej' pète, ej' dis: j'ai pété.
Et pis nous somm' en République,
On n'est pus su' l'pavé du roi ;
Va, va, mon vieux, va, pouss' ta chique,
T'es dans la ru', va, t'es chez toi.

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