Charles Aznavour

A thin little man, balding, in a dark blue suit and red tie, has not the figure of a sensational singing star. But when that little man has the face and voice of Charles Aznavour singing sweet and sad French cabaret songs, the figure becomes an asset. Last Sunday night Aznavour's soulful visage stampeded the girls who had come from French Canada and New England to hear him; one Smithie walked away dazed with ecstasy: "I toucher his face, I touched his face."

But it was not just the great face from Shoot the Piano Player that lighted the souls of Aznavour's audience. It was more the philosophical songs. Aznavour turns to his audience, the spotlight centers on his face, his combo establishes a quiet minor key in the background, and Aznavour spits out enough lyrics to supply Tin Pan Alley for a year. The lyrics Aznavour writes are "about things that people gladly do, but do not dare talk about"; before one song, he says, "this is very French, but then I am French." The lyrics, intricately rhymed manifestos, present philosophies of life; Aznavour delivers them with his soul in his strong, clear voice. Then, like a broken puppet, he staggers off stage, his back to his audience.

Aznavour can also deliver the mild stomping songs "Il faut savoir" and "Formidable," which brought cheers from the partisans of his recordings. But the real Aznavour sings of a middle-aged entertainer waiting to go on stage; reviewing his unfulfilled dreams of glory and without looking down, he knots his necktie perfectly on the first try. In that moment Aznavour captures the great sadnesses and small joys of life.