We often see our consumer and materialistic society as a modern phenomenon.
But in this satirical song from 1956 the French singer, novelist, poet, engineer and much more, Boris Vian described a man purchasing a woman’s love with material objects. In this song, Boris Vian uses all sorts of household appliances, probably the equivalent of designer handbags in a woman’s view of the 1950’s.
Another aspect of the 1950’s and time-saving appliances is that women had more time and freedom to concentrate on a career. The downside is that as more households were turning to dual income, less could afford to live on a single income.
In the song, as the relationship becomes more rocky, the couple stays together as neither can afford to give up the material possessions they have accumulated. Until the relationship becomes so unsustainable that they decide to separate. The woman returns to live with her parents, and the man starts the same vicious circle with a new partner.
Some of the words in this song are made-up to rhyme, but each of those is self-explanatory. The song is full of wordplays, which, along with the rhymes, would be difficult to translate into English. However, the concept of collective delusion that progress and prosperity can substitute human connections is universal and something to ponder on.
La complainte du progrès
Autrefois pour faire sa cour
On parlait d’amour
Pour mieux prouver son ardeur
On offrait son cœur
Maintenant, c’est plus pareil
Ça change, ça change
Pour séduire le cher ange
On lui glisse à l’oreille
Ah, Gudule
Viens m’embrasser
Et je te donnerai
Un frigidaire
Un joli scooter
Un atomixer
Et du Dunlopillo
Une cuisinière
Avec un four en verre
Des tas de couverts
Et des pelles à gâteaux
Une tourniquette
Pour faire la vinaigrette
Un bel aérateur
Pour bouffer les odeurs
Des draps qui chauffent
Un pistolet à gauffres
Un avion pour deux
Et nous serons heureux
Autrefois s’il arrivait
Que l’on se querelle
L’air lugubre on s’en allait
En laissant la vaisselle
Maintenant, que voulez-vous
La vie est si chère
On dit rentre chez ta mère
Et on se garde tout
Ah, Gudule
Excuse-toi
Ou je reprends tout ça
Mon frigidaire
Mon armoire à cuillères
Mon évier en fer
Et mon poêle à mazout
Mon cire-godasses
Mon repasse-limaces
Mon tabouret à glace
Et mon chasse filou
La tourniquette
À faire la vinaigrette
Le ratatine-ordures
Et le coupe-friture
Et si la belle
Se montre encore rebelle
On la fiche dehors
Pour confier son sort
Au frigidaire
À l’efface-poussière
À la cuisinière
Au lit qu’est toujours fait
Au chauffe-savates
Au canon à patates
À l’éventre-tomates
À l’écorche-poulet
Mais très, très vite
On reçoit la visite
D’une tendre petite
Qui vous offre son cœur
Alors on cède
Car il faut bien qu’on s’entraide
Et l’on vit comme ça
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois
Et l’on vit comme ça
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois
Et l’on vit comme ça
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois
The lament of progress.
Once upon a time, in order to seduce,
We spoke about love.
And to prove one’s fervour,
We offered our hearts.
But nowadays, it’s different
What a change!
To seduce the dear angel,
We whisper in her ear
Oh Gudule,
Come and kiss me
And I will give you
a fridge,
a nice scooter,
an atomixer
and a Dunlopillo mattress.
A stove
with a glass oven,
a plethora of cutlery
and some cake slicers.
An electric whisk
to make the vinaigrette.
A nice fan
to gobble up the odours.
Some heated bedsheets,
a waffle gun,
an aeroplane for two.
And we will be happy!
In the old days,
when people had a row.
They left with a mournful look,
leaving the dirty dishes behind.
Nowadays, what can you do?
Life is so expensive.
We simply say, ” Go back to your mother”
And we keep everything for ourselves.
Oh Gudule,
apologize
If you don’t, I’ll take it all back.
My fridge,
my spoon cupboard,
My metal sink
and my oil heater,
my shoe-polisher,
my slug-iron,
my ice stool
and my thief-chaser,
my electric mixer
to make the vinaigrette,
the trash compactor
and the chip-cutter
And if the lovely one
still plays hard to get,
we chuck her out
and leave her fate
to the fridge,
and the dust eraser,
to the stove,
to the self-making bed
to the slipper warmer,
and the potato cannon
to the tomato disemboweller,
the chicken skinner.
But very soon,
comes to us
a sweet little one
and she offers her heart
So, we give in
because we have to help each other.
And we live like this
until the next round.
And we live like this
until the next round.
And we live like this
until the next round.
Between the French lyrics 
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