Michel Pagliaro: A Canadian Rock & Pop Hero
by Howard Druckman - Umberella Music

It’s about time we recognized Michel Pagliaro as a hero of Canadian pop and rock ‘n’ roll. That’s right, hero, as in, “a person noted for exceptional achievements.”

In the 70’s, Pagliaro released a decade-long run of singles that were unprecedented - on the homegrown scene - for their pop craftsmanship, rock ‘n’ roll spirit, bilingual unification and enduring playability. Pagliaro bridged all sorts of gaps: Between Francophone and Anglophone Quebecers; between Les Quebecois and English Canada; between orchestral pop singles and gut-bucket rock ‘n’ roll; between catchy melodies with slick production and his heartfelt, soulful songs.

He was the first Canadian artist ever to receive gold records in both official languages. Any Montrealer who came of age in the 70’s, English or French, has a soft spot for Pag. In 1968, Pagliaro’s self-titled Francophone album sold 50,000 copies in Quebec, a Canadian gold record. In 1971, Pag broke through to English Canada with “Give Us One More Chance,” a Top Ten hit. But it was “Lovin’ You Ain’t Easy” and “Some Sing, Some Dance,” also in ‘71, that truly established him as a big-name rock star “from sea to shining sea.” And there began Pagliaro’s unique motion between English and French, pop and rock ‘n’ roll.

Pag’s English-language singles are stunning, and remain so to this day. With a singular sense of charm and style, he wrote irresistibly catchy, Beatlesque melodies, full of unabashedly romantic lyrics, and then produced them in the grand, orchestral fashion of Phil Spector: Huge string arrangements, layered harmonies, and distinctive sonic highlights, like the castanets in “Some Sing, Some Dance.” Even the country-ish “What The Hell I Got” has its reverbed guitar textures and big string charts. All apologies to Klaatu, but Pagliaro is as close as we’ve ever gotten to the sound of a Canadian Beatles (say, around the time of The White Album). Pag even managed to record some of his hit ballad, “Rainshowers,” at The Beatles’ Apple Studios in London, and there were rumours that the fab four might actually sign him to their Apple label. (Like they did with another Beatlesque act, Badfinger.)

Montreal then was a city of Beatle fans - John Lennon and Yoko Ono even staged one of their bed-ins for peace at The Queen Elizabeth Hotel. To English Montrealers, Pagliaro was like any other French kid who lived down the street and loved the Beatles, just like we did. Except that he’d managed to deliver on the promise of their music with his own distinct voice.

Meanwhile, Pagliaro’s equally stunning but completely different French-language singles - “J’Entends Frapper,” the biggest-selling 7-inch single in the history of Quebec music, “Louise” and “Fou De Toi” - are all straight-up, meat-and-potatoes rock ‘n’ roll in the spirit of Little Richard. He even recorded “Emeute Dans La Prison,” a gritty Quebecois version of the vintage Robins classic, “Riot In Cell Block #9.” To French Montrealers, he was a local working-class hero (so to speak), the kid from down the lane howling classic rock ‘n’ roll like their own little Elvis. Un rocker de chez nous.

It might seem to be a case of two solitudes: Pagliaro playing The English pop craftsman and le rocker Quebecois, seperate but equal. But Pag bridged the gap in 1976 with his crowning artistic achievement: Using the same backing tracks, he released a single that he sang in English as “Time Race” and in French as “Le Temps Presse.” In both versions, Pag delivers one of his most passionate vocals ever, with a faith-for-the-brokenhearted lyric that finds the truth of its sentiment without turning sappy. From the sweet piano opening, through the killer rhythm section in the pre-chorus, to the slashing, Who-like power chords in the second verse, to the synthesized strings and wailing guitar in the solo, it’s a brilliant single in any language.

The point is, Pagliaro truly represented -- not just Anglos or Francos, or for that matter, Montreal’s Italian community; but for all Montrealers, all Quebecois, and even, in some sense, all Canadians. When he played the Montreal Forum, opening for the likes of Procol Harum, Ten Years After or Santana, it was a hero’s triumph. When he sold 100,000 copies of the single “J’Entends Frapper,” or 125,000 copies of the album “Pagliaro Live,” it was impossible not to cheer him on. And his work holds up remarkably well today. A few months ago, I played a copy of PAG (Mediarock/DEP, MED2-1172), a 1999 edition of the man’s greatest hits, in an office full of music freaks at my last job. It was one of the very few occasions where everybody in the office - from U2 fans to swing enthusiasts to metal heads - could all get behind it. Pagliaro’s long string of hit singles is among the most consistently listenable and likeable bodies of work that any 70’s rock act has left us. And considering how much great music was produced in the decade, that’s really saying something.

The inevitable tribute album is loooong overdue. --