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Jane Birkin at Portage Theater | Live review + photo gallery
English-born actress and occasional pop singer Jane Birkin will always be better known for her 1969 orgasmic duet with Serge Gainsbourg, "Je t'aime... moi non plus" than her Agatha Christie movies. Her devastating looks and kitten coo made her an icon of the era, but loyal fans know that there’s been much more to the Birkin story since those Yé-yé days. Last night at the Portage Theater, Birkin declined to play that U.K. hit, but did anything but play down her association with Gainsbourg, her musical mentor, lover and mate for 13 years as well as the father of their daughter Charlotte. In particular, she shone a light on what she called “his feminine side” exemplified in b-sides and darker, sadder tunes such as “Ex-Fan Des Sixties” and songs from Amours des feintes, the album Gainsbourg penned for her just before his death in 1991. Thankfully, she balanced those with some of the funny, sexier tunes from their early years together. Those '60s Gainsbourg-created gems such as “L’Anamour,” “La Chanson Du Slogan” and “Ford Mustang” were the highlights of the night for me, they’re none the worse for wear. Birkin's commentary helped place many of these songs in context, as when she noted how the ambitious Histoire De Melody Nelson, Gainsbourg’s concept album, bombed on release only to be cited by everyone from Beck to Johnny Depp as an influence years later.
A Japanese-originating quartet of piano, drums, trumpet and violin (originally assembled, she told us, to play post-tsunami benefit shows in Tokyo which has since coaxed out on tour) executed the tunes with both original details (those cafe jazz breakbeats when called for) and a modern panache that was needed to hold the whole shebang together. One audience member with an accent explained to another that Birkin was "not rock" just before the show. It was, of course, more beatnik-jazz-pop-cabaret than rock. Still, hearing the likes of “Do Di Dah” without guitar picking might not have been the same, but its playful spirit came shining through in a jazz rendition. Birkin’s voice and easy way with a tricky series of notes here and there was a bit of a revelation to some, for sure, and proved more than capable of carrying tunes when the band receded. If it wavered over the high notes, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. That delicacy and naturalism was surely what drew Serge and us to her the first time around—um, and the drop dead gorgeous thing, probably.
In an unbuttoned tuxedo shirt and '80s-ish black pants, she struck a post somewhere between a nonchalant art collector and androgynous starlet in a Woody Allen film. Birkin, of course, has a Hermes weekender bag named after her, but she intimated that on tour she spends free time at vintage stores, while her culturally engaged band hits the museums and takes photos. Despite an odd reference to a visit to the hospital on the night before (“I only had to wait three hours”), Birkin seemed to be in great health, moving about the stage, sitting down with a leg dangling off the end and entering the seated audience later in the set—all with a spotlight following her. Birkin’s casual, classy approach to the gig might have made out that she’s just singing for a lark, but she’s been no stranger to the stage all these years with live albums as recent as Au Palace in 2009.
Birkin switched back n forth between English and French in her between song intros and explanations and kept a running joke about that one audience member that somehow didn’t speak French. She was witty, elegant, sincere, emotional, humble and vivacious—with a smile that never seemed forced, more like inevitable. What a life she's led, right? The crowd, an unusually chic mix of Empty Bottle regulars, boho grown folks and elegant French-speaking females (roughly 30 in number, all humming along, were seated just to my right), seemed to be in awe, not just of a refined performance but Birkin's supernova charm. They just don't make them like that anymore.
