CRITIC / Dear Clemence. You had not spoken a word to the Gatineau House of Culture that already, we knew that something was going to go out and be born that night. For your last lap. Extinguish in us forever the hope of seeing you again on stage one day. Because you said it’s over, for real. To be born also in us this desire to cling forever to those precious moments, so tender, so funny, that you offered us Tuesday. Only you can do it. Letter of love to you, dear Clemence.
The first notes of I will make a garden have fallen. And then you came to the boards, the ones you’ve been hustling for 60 years. We all stood up, spontaneously, as you walked up and down the stage trying to see your audience. To whom you owe your “long career and your double garage, where you have accumulated all your derivative products”.
“Do you brag before or after?” You said to us in your distinct voice, surely reading in our thoughts. You have trouble? Lift up those who have never seen me? Surprisingly, several spectators were at their baptism. “What are you watching?” That I prove myself? “.
Great class, you have presented your musicians, those who “give life to your poems”. Nadine Turbide on piano and accordion, Jean René on viola and guitar and Blanche Baillargeon on double bass. You love them and they make you so good.
Besides you, Marie-Michèle Desrosiers, “the most beautiful, the finest and the most beautiful voice” according to you. “Cousins en alliance”, you began The sweet summer wind , your contagious complicity rocking us all evening, punctuating each monologue and song, The Spanish dancer, Hair glove, Two old and A delicate subject , alexandrins, for To name only those. And we, hanging on your lips, ready to give you the reply on command.
You told us of your father, the poet Alfred, to whom you paid homage with the very touching man of my life , whom you composed for him. And your mother too, who left you far too early, with the song Maman , your words set to music by Ariane Moffatt.
While you were sitting in the shadows, the charismatic Marie-Michèle Desrosiers reminded us that Beau Dommage celebrated her 42th birthday this year before continuing with I forgot the day, My mother told me who is tackling the disease Of Alzheimer, Bozo or, again, Chateauguay in “Hawaiian”.
“The teeth lengthening us as we grow older,” the words have sometimes stumbled over your tongue. These words that you sometimes forgot, as in La vie de factrie, The paper jacket, The Reception Center and I saw my menopause , but that you knew how to find, smile in a corner. As if you were playing with us …
“Are you together?” You asked us. Too much. We are too well with you, Clemence. And here is Marie-Michèle Desrosiers who returns on the notes of I will make a garden . It feels the end ….
As a gift, for the ders of the ders, she will offer you a song by Jean-Guy Moreau, À cœur ouvert . That she will resume three times to find the right tone, that so that together we can bid you farewell.
The voice will break a few times, the emotion being too strong. You will listen, your head bowed, your arms crossed.
“You leave, it’s hard,” you will tell us. I’ll think of you. And do not forget to buy my merchandise !, the laughter of the crowd shooting from all sides. You’ve nurtured my life and now I’m going to go and make a garden … Thank you, dear Clémence. Thank you.