Although not nearly as prolific—or as world famous—as Serge Gainsbourg, there’s an easy argument to be made that eccentric French popstar Michel Polnareff comes right after Serge on the official list of Gallic musical geniuses. That so many music fans outside of France revere Gainsbourg yet have probably never even heard of Polnareff is a shame, both for them and for this unfairly overlooked performer. The simple fact is, there are very few truly great French rock musicians, and Michel Polnareff stands heads and tails above the likes of Johnny Hallyday and Téléphone.

I first heard of Michel Polnareff via mid-70s ads for his albums in Circus magazine and knew that he did the soundtrack to Margaux Hemingway’s notorious rape revenge film Lipstick, but he was just someone I saw in magazines. I heard none of his music until decades later, but when I discovered his 1971 album Polnareff’s, I played it obsessively. If it was candy, I’d have gorged myself on it until I was sick and then just kept eating. It’s really one of the most amazing and musically audacious albums of the era, up there with what someone like, say, Todd Rundgren was doing at the time (both were extreme multi instrumentalist perfectionists), but heavily influenced by the likes of Burt Bacharach, maybe the Turtles and Moody Blues and certainly Scott Walker and Gainsbourg, too. Meant to be listened to as a single suite of music, like Abbey Road or OK Computer, Polnareff’s is a grandly ambitious and brilliantly realized Baroque orchestral pop album with not a single bad track in the bunch. I’ll go so far as to say that Polnareff’s is probably the second best French rock album of all time, after L’histoire de Melody Nelson. Again second to the great Serge Gainsbourg, but I mean Monsieur Polnareff no disrespect here, obviously. (Third on my list of great French rock albums would be Les Rita Mitsouko’s The No Comprendo, so as you can see, Polnareff’s is bookended by greatness in my estimation.) It’s really one of the most amazing records ever made. Don’t believe me? AllMusic’s Thom Jurek, a man known for his refined rock snob tastes calls it a “psychedelic pop masterpiece.” It is! He also writes that “it’s like an early model for the excesses of Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk.” Right again!
 

 
Finding the musicians and recording studios of Paris insufficient for his needs, Polnareff’s first hit was the unstoppably catchy “La poupée qui fait non” recorded in 1966 when he was just 21 and featuring the then-prominent London session musicians Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones. The song was covered by Ronnie Wood’s mod group The Birds, Jimi Hendrix and Saint Etienne.
 

 
Polnareff, a slight, androgynous figure suffered from depression and problems with his vision (his trademark sunglasses were apparently necessary to deal with stage lighting). He seemed ill-suited for fame and his career was derailed by the triple whammy of an onstage attack by a lunatic (someone who was perhaps provoked by the bare-assed poster below, it was unclear to me); the tragic suicide of a close friend and career mentor; and the news that his manager had ripped him off, leaving him in a very, very bad position with French tax authorities. Unable to pay his taxes, Polnareff decamped to Los Angeles. His tax matter wasn’t solved until sometime in the mid-1980s, although he would do concerts in Belgium where his fans back home could see him. He still performs live in France where he remains a very big deal. Polnareff’s most recent album in 2018’s critically acclaimed Enfin!. He is now 77 and lives in Palm Springs, CA.
 

 
The A Tribute to Michel Polnareff CD came out in 2000 featuring his songs covered by Pulp, Saint Etienne, Tuxedomoon’s Blaine Reininger and Steven Brown, Nick Cave, The Residents, Peter Hammill, Marc Almond, Japan’s Pizzicato Five and others.
 

“Né dans un Ice Cream”
 

“Le Désert n’est plus en Afrique”
 

This extended clip of Catherine Deneuve and Marcello Mastroianni grooving, smoking, drinking, dancing, making out and ultimately destroying their apartment to several songs by Michel Polnareff is from a film called Ça n’arrive qu’aux autres (“It Only Happens to Others.”) This will seem mysterious unless you know that they’re playing a grieving couple who have lost their baby and not left their apartment for some time. It’s an interesting way to use this music, that’s for sure. The guitar riff of “Computer’s Dream” (starts around 2:15) is one of the best things I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
 

“Le Roi des Fourmis”
 

“La Fille qui rêve de Moi
 

Polnareff’s sole time on the US pop charts was with the excellent 1975 single “Jesus for Tonight.”
 

“Hey You Woman”