I don't like to pinpoint my ethnic origins, as it is just so much fun to watch people look at my features and scramble to determine from what lineage I may come from. Sure, if you ask me one on one I'll tell you, but only after your best educated guess.
That being said, I'll volunteer this aspect of my youth.
Post-divorce, my mother had an ongoing pattern of
a) doing her damndest to preserve my grasp of French;
b) befriending and attaching herself to almost anyone who also spoke it;
c) doing her damndest to make me be friends with them as well.
Anyhow, for about a year or so she had been socializing with a couple in their late '20's, probably grad students or something. I believe the wife was French and her husband was American. Nice enough folks, I could deal with being in forced company with them.
But I distinctly recall one night we were visiting with them, and they were listening to French music, and the husband pulled out an LP by French writer/jazzbo/provocateur Boris Vian, and played his favorite song, "Fais-moi mal, Johnny." At the time I was unfamiliar with him or his notoriety, but once that chorus kicked in, I knew instinctively something was up, because while my French was not the greatest, I did know "Fais-moi mal" meant "Do me wrong" or "Hurt me bad." I didn't grasp the majority of the song though; I figured it was some sort of ode to a bad boy.
Years go by. I start getting interested in strange and esoteric movies. And I learn an interesting factoid: The infamous '80's rape/revenge drama I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE, which of course has been remade and released in theatres this weekend, in fact stole that title from a '60's-era potboiler about interracial dating adapted from a novel by...Boris Vian! Intrigued by this unusual intersection of personal influences, I decide to research this fellow.And I found a recording of "Fais-moi mal, Johnny" and listened to it properly.
Now, most of you I'm sure do not speak French, so I'm providing a contextual version. Keep in mind this is not a word-for-word translation - I'm trying to make it fit a song meter. I've also provided the original French for counterpoint.
Debout, il était bien plus p'tit
Je me suis dit c'est dans la poche
Ce mignon-là, c'est pour mon lit
Il m'arrivait jusqu'à l'épaule
Mais il était râblé comme tout
Il m'a suivie jusqu'à ma piaule
Et j'ai crié vas-y mon loup
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Envole-moi au ciel...Zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aim' l'amour qui fait boum!
Il n'avait plus que ses chaussettes
Des bell' jaunes avec des raies bleues
Il m'a regardé d'un œil bête
Il comprenait rien, l'malheureux
Et il m'a dit l'air désolé
Je n'ferais pas d'mal à une mouche
It m'énervait! Je l'ai giflé
Et j'ai grincé d'un air farouche
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Je n'suis pas une mouche...Zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aim' l'amour qui fait boum!
Voyant qu'il ne s'excitait guère
Je l'ai insulté sauvagement
J'y ai donné tous les noms d'la terre
Et encor' d'aut's bien moins courants
Ça l'a réveillé aussi sec
Et il m'a dit arrête ton charre
Tu m'prends vraiment pour un pauve mec
J'vais t'en r'filer, d'la série noire
Tu m'fais mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Pas avec des pieds...Zing!
Tu m'fais mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
J'aim' pas l'amour qui fait bing!
Il a remis sa p'tite chemise
Son p'tit complet, ses p'tits souliers
Il est descendu l'escalier
En m'laissant une épaule démise
Pour des voyous de cette espèce
C'est bien la peine de faire des frais
Maintenant, j'ai des bleus plein les fesses
Et plus jamais je ne dirai
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Envole-moi au ciel...Zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aim' l'amour qui fait boum!
He stood up when he saw me walk in
So short my chest met his head
Said to myself, it's in the pocket
Take this cute boy to my bed
He only made it to my shoulder
Still quite strong as all get out
We went back into my parlor
And I told him, make me shout
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Send me to Heaven, make a spark
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
I want lovin' that leaves a mark
He still had his socks and shoes on
Yellow with blue stripes - how cute
He looked at me with much confusion
He didn't get it, the poor brute
Then he said with his simple grace
I couldn't even hurt a fly
I got so mad I slapped his face
And then I growled with fire in my eye
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
I'm not a fly, you sap
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
I want lovin' that leaves a snap
Seeing how he was barely hummin'
I began to curse him rotten
Used every insult I could summon
And some rare ones I'd forgotten
That's when he turned on the anger
Said you need to shut your trap
You must think I'm some dumb wanker
I'll give you a taste of your own crap
No, don't hurt me, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Not with your feet...arrgh
No, don't hurt me, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
I don't want lovin' that goes that far!
He got dressed and fixed his laces
Noticed that eight was the size of his shoes
Out the door, off to the races
Left me alone with my shoulders bruised
Men are thugs with so little class
Try teaching them to make love a new way
I'm black and blue on my face and my ass
And that's the last time that I'll ever say
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Send me to Heaven, make a spark
Hurt me now, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
I want lovin' that leaves a mark
In short, this song is about an S&M encounter gone very wrong!
Flash back to that evening years ago. My mother doesn't do a goddamned thing! No objections, no shock, no "that was inappropriate, Catherine," no awkward "did you understand that song, Marco" questions, nothing! We're talking the same prude who stopped watching my game show because I pretended to curse on the air, not batting an eye at letting her 10-year-old son listen to a song about a pushy girl getting her clock cleaned. Was she just counting on my French not being good enough to understand it? Was she desperate enough to preserve my bilinguality that any exposure to French culture was worth it?
Look, it's not that I'm ungrateful. The scene that could have transpired would have been quite embarassing and much worse a memory than what I have now. But damn, y'all, this is just one of those moments that don't, I say, just don't add up.
No real moral to this story. Just a reminder that when you go to all your kinky Halloween parties this month, I hope all of you remember your safe words.
Great. Now I got it stuck in my head.
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