It took no more than the opening line to the promo lit for this release to convince me I had to hear it: the disc, I was informed, concerns itself with "debauched damsels and dirty old men". Delightful! Georges Bressens, with whom I'd never been acquainted previously, must rank as one of the world's most unique poets, not to mention an accomplished composer. Certainly the French, who have a deserved repute for the erotic and anarchic, regard him as one of the most important post-WWII poets in the world, and, upon evidence here, I'd rank the dear departed (1921 - 1981) with Bertolt Brecht and ilk…not in mode of expression particularly, though there's plenty of reason for that as well, but in tone, temperament, and audacity. For sheer bluntness, one would have to travel beyond even the bawdier spawn of Verlaine…while, heh! clinging to limericks.

Pierre de Gaillande, transplanted from gay Paris to California to NYC, obviously has more than a little of the rogue in him as well (perhaps even a trifle of the roue!) and has taken on the task of bringing Monsieur Bressens to U.S. audiences. Bad Reputation, Vol. 2 is his second foray and is deserving of wide exposure equally for Gaillande's birdflip in the face of propriety for shouldering the burden, which has only rarely been done (it's IMPOSSIBLE to find Brassens lyrics in English on the Web) as for Brassens' insouciantly admirable effrontery. IT's highly possible Mr.Gaillande will even find himself in a spot of trouble for his pains. Seriously, y'all, this CD marks a very rare, indeed singular, occasion in the arts.

But it also features an 11-spot of merrily dark, ribald, forbidding, antagonistic, pornographic, and sometimes even just ruminative songs delivered by a spotlessly clean crack band, including the guitarist who played with Brassens in the 70s. The band is headed up by de Gaillande, who sings everything in a street troubadour's voice and presumably also plays piano (promo CD, so credits are absent). The surface tone is maddeningly guileless while explicit as hell, simultaneously soothing and subversive, as though Maurice Chevalier or one of his buddies got too deep into his cups and started encanting what was really on his nasty ol' mind.

How one is supposed to react to these ditties, I have no idea, save to marvel at them. You will, I guarantee, find NO disc like this on the market anywhere, none whatsoever, and I think we can even safely place Mr. Bressens in with Lenny Bruce, Lord Buckley, Bill Hicks, Lee Camp, Marc Maron, and the all-time masters of social stand-up comedy as well. I can only very strongly suggest Mr. Gaillande locate a latterday Beardsley or Grosz to illustrate the poems and put Brassens work in permanent book form in English here in America and thus do our aegis of letters a huge service. Here's a taste why:

Although these bourgeois pigs prefer
To call them ladies of leisure
It's not every day they relax
In fact, in fact
It's not every day they relax

For even with their pedigree
To spend the days walking the streets
Can really be hell on the gams
Goodamn, goddamn!
Can really be hell on the gams

Not only are their bunions sore
And they have blisters on their corns
It's crazy the number of shoes they use, they use
It's crazy the number of shoes they use

These filthy johns who cross their path
They hardly ever take a bath
But still they have to be enticed
Oh Christ, oh Christ
Still they have to be enticed

They must be taken by the hand
And led into the promised land
She certainly earns every dime
Oh my, oh my
She certainly earns every dime

They are despised b
y everyone
And manhandled by cops for fun
And menaced with syphilis too
It's true, it's true
And menaced with syphilis too

Though they make love all day in bed
And twenty times a day they wed
They never partake of the bliss
I promise, I promise
They never partake of the bliss

You sons of Baptist women born
Don't give this poor Venus your scorn
This poor old baguette is repaired
I swear, I swear
This poor old baguette is repaired

It wouldn't take much, my brother
For this whore to be your mother
[Ends in a couplet or triplet in French I can't understand]

You're not going to find that on a Pat Boone album, now are you? NO, but if Pat's curious, he'll find this CD on my 2013 Year's Best Of and can avail himself of a copy through Amazon or wherever. When he's done blushing, someone please tell him I was only too happy to turn him on to it.