Musique

Un florilège de chansons parlant de prostitution.

Roxanne – The Police : titre emblématique du trio anglais, « Roxanne » raconte l’histoire d’un homme qui est tombé amoureux d’une prostituée et, ne supportant plus de la voir avec d’autres hommes, lui demande d’éteindre la lumière rouge.

Lyrics

Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light

Those days are over

You don’t have to sell your body to the night

Roxanne, you don’t have to wear that dress tonight

Walk the streets for money

You don’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s right

 

Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light

Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light

Put on the red light, oh

 

I loved you since I knew ya

I wouldn’t talk down to ya

I have to tell you just how I feel

I won’t share you with another boy

I know my mind is made up

So put away your make up

Told you once I won’t tell you again it’s a bad way

 

Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light

Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light

You don’t have to put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light

The Whores Hustle And The Hustles Whore – PJ Harvey : ou les affres d’une vie nocturne faite de désespoir et de drogue, de syphilis et de violence, perdu dans l’immensité anonyme de New York City.

Lyrics

Speak to me of universal laws

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore

All around me people bleed

Speak to me your song of greed

 

Speak to me of your inner charm

Of how you’ll keep me safe from harm

I don’t think so, I don’t see

Speak to me of your inner peace

 

Little people at the amusement park

City people in the dark

Speak to us, send us a sign

Tell us something to keep us trying

 

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore

Too many people out of love

The whores hustler and the hustlers whore

This city’s ripped right to the core

 

Speak to me of heroin and speed

Of genocide and suicide, of syphilis and greed

Speak to me the language of love

The language of violence, the language of the heart

This isn’t the first time I’ve asked for money or love

Heaven and earth don’t ever mean enough

Speak to me of heroin and speed

Just give me something I can believe

 

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore

Too many people out of love

The whores hustler and the hustlers whore

This city’s ripped right to the core

Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis – Tom Waits : une prostituée de Minneapolis écrit à un dénommé Charlie. Elle lui explique qu’elle va mieux, qu’elle a arrêté la drogue et a trouvé un homme qui l’aime et qui élèvera l’enfant dont elle enceinte. Jusqu’au dernier couplet où elle craque : elle a menti. Elle n’a pas de mari, elle est actuellement en prison, et sera éligible à la liberté conditionnelle pour la Saint-Valentin…

Lyrics

hey Charley I’m pregnant

and living on 9-th street

right above a dirty bookstore

off cuclid avenue

and I stopped taking dope

and I quit drinking whiskey

and my old man plays the trombone

and works out at the track.

 

and he says that he loves me

even though its not his baby

and he says that he’ll raise him up

like he would his own son

and he gave me a ring

that was worn by his mother

and he takes me out dancin

every saturday nite.

 

and hey Charley I think about you

everytime I pass a fillin’ station

on account of all the grease

you used to wear in your hair

and I still have that record

of little anthony & the imperials

but someone stole my record player

how do you like that?

 

hey Charley I almost went crazy

after mario got busted

so I went back to omaha to

live with my folks

but everyone I used to know

was either dead or in prison

so I came back in minneapolis

this time I think I’m gonna stay.

 

hey Charley I think I’m happy

for the first time since my accident

and I wish I had all the money

that we used to spend on dope

I’d buy me a used car lot

and I wouldn’t sell any of em

I’d just drive a different car

every day dependin on how

I feel.

 

hey Charley

for chrissakes

do you want to know

the truth of it?

I don’t have a husband

he don’t play the trombone

and I need to borrow money

to pay this lawyer

and Charley, hey

I’ll be eligible for parole

come valentines day.

Lorelei Sebasto Cha – Hubert-Félix Thiéfaine : sur un rythme de cha-cha-cha, HFT nous livre sans doute ici l’une des descriptions les plus poétiques qui puissent être de la chose, en se mettant dans la peau d’un habitué de Sebastopol.

Lyrics

Mon blues a déjanté sur ton corps animal
Dans cette chambre où les nuits
Durent pas plus d’un quart d’heure
Juste après le péage assurer l’extra-bail
Et remettre à zéro l’aiguille sur le compteur
Ton blues a dérapé sur mon corps de chacal
Dans cet hôtel paumé aux murs glacés d’ennui
Et pendant que le lit croise l’aéropostale
Tu me dis reprends ton fric aujourd’hui c’est gratuit
Lorelei Lorelei
Ne me lâche pas j’ai mon train qui déraille
Lorelei Lorelei
Et je suis comme un cobaye qu’a sniffé toute sa paille

Tu m’arraches mon armure dans un geste un peu lourd
En me disant reviens maintenant je te connais
Tu me rappelles mes amants rue Barrée à Hambourg
Quand j’étais l’orpheline aux yeux de feu follet
Tu me rappelles mes amants perdus dans la tempête
Avec le coeur naufrage au bout des bars de nuit
Et tu me dis reviens je suis ton jour de fête
Reviens jouir mon amour dans ma bouche agonie
Lorelei Lorelei
Ne me lâche pas j’ai mon train qui déraille
Lorelei Lorelei
Et je suis comme un cobaye qu’a sniffé toute sa paille

Le blues a dégrafé nos coeurs de cannibales
Dans ce drame un peu triste où meurent tous les Shakespeare
Le rouge de nos viandes sur le noir sidéral
Le rouge de nos désirs sur l’envers de nos cuirs
Et je te dis reviens maintenant c’est mon tour
De t’offrir le voyage pour les Galapagos
Et je te dis reviens on s’en va mon amour
Recoller du soleil sur nos ailes d’albatros
Lorelei Lorelei
Ne me lâche pas j’ai mon train qui déraille
Lorelei Lorelei
Et je suis comme un cobaye qu’a sniffé toute sa paille

 

Walk On The Wild Side – Lou Reed : Bowery dans les années 70 : le quartier est l’un des plus mal famés de New York. Rien à voir, rien à faire hormis quelques clubs où se réunit la faune locale : junkies, travestis et punks en tout genre,… Drogues et racolage à chaque coin de rue. C’est à cet endroit que l’on trouve les travestis qui inspirent à Lou Reed l’un de ses titres les plus emblématiques.

Lyrics

Holly came from Miami, Florida
Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A.
Plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She says, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
She said, « Hey, honey
Take a walk on the wild side »

Candy came from out on the Island
In the back room she was everybody’s darling
But she never lost her head
Even when she was giving head
She says, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
Said, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
And the colored girls go
« Doo do doo do doo do do doo … »

Little Joe never once gave it away
Everybody had to pay and pay
A hussle here and a hussle there
New York City’s the place
Where they said, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
I said, « Hey, Joe
Take a walk on the wild side »

Sugar Plum Fairy came and hit the streets
Looking for soul food and a place to eat
Went to the Apollo
You should’ve seen them go, go, go
They said, « Hey, sugar
Take a walk on the wild side »
I said, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
All right, huh

Jackie is just speeding away
Thought she was James Dean for a day
Then I guess she had to crash
Valium would have helped that bash
Said, « Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side »
I said, « Hey, honey
Take a walk on the wild side »
And the colored girls say
« Doo do doo do doo do do doo … »

La complainte des filles de joie – Georges Brassens : comme à son habitude défenseur des marginaux contre les bourgeois biens-pensants, le poète libertaire livre ici un hommage sincère au courage de ces travailleuses des rues dont la vie est loin d’être drôle.

Lyrics

Bien que ces vaches de bourgeois x2
Les appell’nt des filles de joie x2
C’est pas tous les jours qu’ell’s rigolent
Parole, parole
C’est pas tous les jours qu’elles rigolent

Car, même avec des pieds de grues x2
Fair’ les cents pas le long des rues x2
C’est fatigant pour les guibolles
Parole, parole
C’est fatigant pour les guibolles

Non seulement ell’s ont des cors x2
Des œils-de-perdrix, mais encor x2
C’est fou ce qu’ell’s usent de grolles
Parole, parole
C’est fou ce qu’ell’s usent de grolles

Y a des clients, y a des salauds x2
Qui se trempent jamais dans l’eau x2
Faut pourtant qu’elles les cajolent
Parole, parole
Faut pourtant qu’elles les cajolent

Qu’ell’s leur fassent la courte échelle x2
Pour monter au septième ciel x2
Les sous, croyez pas qu’ell’s les volent
Parole, parole
Les sous, croyez pas qu’ell’s les volent

Ell’s sont méprisées du public x2
Ell’s sont bousculées par les flics x2
Et menacées de la vérole
Parole, parole
Et menacées de la vérole

Bien qu’tout’ la vie ell’s fass’nt l’amour x2
Qu’ell’s se marient vingt fois par jour x2
La noce est jamais pour leur fiole
Parole, parole
La noce est jamais pour leur fiole

Fils de pécore et de minus x2
Ris par de la pauvre Vénus x2
La pauvre vieille casserole
Parole, parole
La pauvre vieille casserole

Il s’en fallait de peu, mon cher x2
Que cett’ putain ne fût ta mère x2
Cette putain dont tu rigoles
Parole, parole
Cette putain dont tu rigoles

House Of The Rising Sun – The Animals : inspiré d’une chanson folk traditionnelle (The Rising Sun Blues), ce morceau connaîtra nombre de versions, mais la plus marquante reste celle d’Eric Burdon et ses Animals. Au début du siècle dernier, « Rising Sun » était un euphémisme pour désigner un bordel. Dans cette version, l’endroit y est décrit comme un lieu de perdition contre lequel le narrateur met en garde les auditeurs, à moins de ne vouloir finir comme lui…

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I’m one

My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new bluejeans
My father was a gamblin’ man
Down in New Orleans

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time he’s satisfied
Is when he’s on a drunk

Oh mother tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Spend your lives in sin and misery
In the House of the Rising Sun

Well, I got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train
I’m goin’ back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain

Well, there is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I’m one

53rd & 3rd – The Ramones : comme évoqué précédemment, le Lower East Side dans les année 70 était un lieu où se croisaient artistes, junkies et prostituées. Et certains, à l’image de Dee Dee Ramone, étaient tout cela à la fois. Ce qui lui a inspiré ce morceau qui narre l’histoire d’un jeune tapineur qui est recherché par les flics après avoir commis un meurtre.

Lyrics

If you think you can, well come on man
I was a Green Beret in Viet Nam
No more of your fairy stories
‘Cause I got my other worries

53rd and 3rd
Standing on the street
53rd and 3rd
I’m tryin’ to turn a trick

53rd and 3rd
You’re the one they never pick
53rd and 3rd
Don’t it make you feel sick?

Then I took out my razor blade
Then I did what God forbade
Now the cops are after me
But I proved that I’m no sissy

X-Offender – Blondie : la prostitution est décidément une source d’inspiration chère à la scène new-yorkaise des 70′s. « X-Offender », initialement nommé « Sex Offender » mais renommée par le label (on se demande bien pourquoi) est le premier single du groupe et il voit la magnifique Debbie Harry se mettre dans la peau d’une prostituée qui tombe sous le charme de l’officier de police qui l’arrête.

I saw you standing on the corner, you looked so big and fine.
I really wanted to go out with you, so when you smiled,
I laid my heart on the line
You read me my rights and then you said « Let’s go » and nothing more
I thought of my nights, and how they were
They were filled with

I know you wouldn’t go
You’d watch my heart burst then you’d step in
I had to know so I asked
You just had to laugh

We sat in the night with my hands cuffed at my side
I look at your life and your style
I wanted nothing more
I know you wouldn’t go
You’d watch my heart burst then you’d step in
I had to know so I asked
You just had to laugh

Walking the line, you were a marksman
Told me that law, like wine, is ageless
Public defender
You had to admit
You wanted the love of a sex offender

I know you wouldn’t go
You’d watch my heart burst then you’d step in
I had to know so I asked
You just had to laugh

My vision in blue, I call you from inside my cell
And in the trial, you were there
With your badge and rubber boots

I think all the time how I’m going to perpetrate love with you
And when I get out, there’s no doubt I’ll be sex offensive to you

When The Sun Goes Down – Arctic Monkeys : chronique d’un observateur des nuits de Sheffield. Car là-bas, tout change une fois le soleil couché.

Lyrics

Ly Who’s that girl there?
I wonder what went wrong
So that she had to roam the streets
She dunt do major credit cards
I doubt she does receipts
It’s all not quite legitimate

And what a scummy man
Just give him half a chance
I bet he’ll rob you if he can
Can see it in his eyes,
Yeah, that he’s got a driving ban
Amongst some other offences

And I’ve seen him with girls of the night
And he told Roxanne to put on her red light
They’re all infected but he’ll be alright
Cause he’s a scumbag, don’t you know
I said he’s a scumbag, don’t you know!

Although you’re trying not to listen
Overt your eyes and staring at the ground
She makes a subtle proposition
« I’m sorry love I’ll have to turn you down »

He must be up to something
What are the chances sure it’s more than likely
I’ve got a feeling in my stomach
I start to wonder what his story might be

They said it changes when the sun goes down
Around here

Look here comes a Ford Mondeo
Isn’t he Mister Inconspicuous?
And he don’t even have to say ‘owt
She’s in the stance ready to get picked up

Bet she’s delighted when she sees him
Pulling in and giving her the eye
Because she must be fucking freezing
Scantily clad beneath the clear night sky
it doesn’t stop in the winter, no
Around here

They said it changes when the sun goes down
Over the river going out of town

What a scummy man
Just give him half a chance
I bet he’ll rob you if he can
Can see it in his eyes that he’s got a nasty plan
I hope you’re not involved at all

Sweet Painted Lady – Elton John : en anglais, le terme « Sweet Painted Lady » désigne une femme de petite vertu. Dans cette chanson, Elton John raconte l’histoire d’un marin qui vient d’accoster et qui cherche un réconfort d’une nuit auprès d’une douce dame maquillée, celle qui n’a pas de nom.

I’m back on dry land once again
Opportunity awaits me like a rat in the drain
We’re all hunting honey with money to burn
Just a short time to show you the tricks that we’ve learned

If the boys all behave themselves here
Well there’s pretty young ladies and beer in the rear
You won’t need a gutter to sleep in tonight
Oh the prices I charge here will see you alright

So she lays down beside me again
My sweet painted lady, the one with no name
Many have used her and many still do
There’s a place in the world for a woman like you

Oh sweet painted lady
Seems it’s always been the same
Getting paid for being laid
Guess that’s the name of the game

Forget us we’ll have gone very soon
Just forget we ever slept in your rooms
And we’ll leave the smell of the sea in your beds
Where love’s just a job and nothing is said

Lady Marmalade – Patti LaBelle : en faisant d’une chanson sur un thème aussi dur un véritable hymne à la fête, Patti LaBelle donne l’une des premières représentations « glamour » de la prostitution et s’attira ainsi à la fois les foudres des conservateurs, et la reconnaissance du public gay. Et désormais, le monde entier connaît au moins une phrase en français

Hey Sister, Go Sister, Soul Sister, Go Sister [x2]
He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin’ her stuff on the street
She said ‘Hello,
Hey Joe, you wanna give it a go?
‘Mmm Hmmm Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da [? ]
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya
Here [? ]
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
He savored her cool
While she freshed up
That boy drank all that magnolia wine
On the black satin sheets where
He started to freak
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Here
Mocca chocalata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Heh, Heh, Hehhhh
Seeing her skin feeling silky smooth
Colour of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring till it cried More, More, More
Now he’s at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep More, More, More
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya here
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade

Killer Queen – Queen : elle boit du champagne et mange du caviar, mais ça ne l’empêche pas de mettre un prix (élevé) sur son corps. En écrivant une chanson sur une call-girl de luxe, Freddie Mercury voulait démontrer que la prostitution n’était pas l’apanage des classes sociales inférieures.

She keeps Moët et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
‘Let them eat cake,’ she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Kruschev and Kennedy
At anytime an invitation
You can’t decline

Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice

She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?

To avoid complications
She never kept the same address
In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness
Little Man from China
Went down to Geisha Minor
Then again incidentally
If you’re that way inclined

Perfume came naturally from Paris
For cars she couldn’t care less
Fastidious and precise

She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Drop of a hat she’s as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild..
She’s all out to get you

She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
You wanna try…

Bad Girls – Donna Summer : parue sur l’album du même nom, « Bad Girls » fut le plus grand hit de Donna Summer et l’aida à gagner son titre de reine du Disco. Donna Summer y décrit la vie nocturne des « bad girls » à travers le regard à la fois méprisant et fasciné d’une « sad girl ». Mais au fond, sont-elles vraiment si différentes?

Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls
Sad girls
Talking about bad girls, yeah

See them out on the street at night, walkin’
Picking up on all kinds of strangers
If the price is right
You can’t score if you’re pocket’s tight
But you want a good time
You ask yourself who they are
Like everybody else
They come from near and far
Bad girls, yeah

Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls, yeah
Sad girls
Talking about bad girls, yeah

Friday night and the strip is hot
Sun’s gone down and they’re out to trot
Spirit’s high and legs look hot
Do you wanna get down
Now don’t you ask yourself who they are
Like everybody else, they wanna be a star

Bad girl
Sad girl, you’re such a naughty bad girl
Beep-Beep, uh-uh
You bad girl you sad girl
Your such a dirty bad girl
Beep-Beep, uh-uh

Now you and me we’re both the same
But you call yourself by different names
Now your mama won’t like it when she finds out
That her girl is out at night

Hey, Mister, have you got a dime
Mister, do you want to spent some time
Oh, yeah
I got what you want, you got what I need
I’ll be your baby, come and spend it on me
Hey, Mister
I’ll spend some time with you

alt-N-Pepa – None Of Your Business : parce qu’elles ont été parmi les premières rappeuses à parler ouvertement de sexe (comme l’indique leur tube de 1991 « Let’s Talk About Sex ») et de respect de la femme dans un milieu particulièrement macho, le trio composé Salt, Pepa et Spinderella méritait une place dans ce classement. Même si la prostitution n’est pas forcément le sujet principal de la chanson, celle-ci est évoquée à plusieurs reprises. Ce que je fais de mon corps ? « It’s None Of Your Business !!! »

What’s the matter with your life?
Why you gotta mess with mine?
Don’t keep sweatin’ what I do
Cause I’m gonna be just fine – check it out

[CHORUS]

If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight
It’s none of your business
And she wanna be a freak and sell it on the weekend
It’s none of your business
Now you shouldn’t even get into who I’m givin’ skins to
It’s none of your business
So don’t try to change my mind, I’ll tell you one more time
It’s none of your business

Now who do you think you are
Puttin’ your cheap two cents in?
Don’t you got nothin’ to do
Than worry ’bout my friends? Check it…

I can’t do nothin’, girl, without somebody buggin’
I used to think that it was me, but now I see it wasn’t
They told me to change, they called me names, and so I popped one
Opinion’s are like assholes and everybody’s got one
I never put my nose where I’m not supposed to
Believe me, if he’s something that I want, I’m steppin’ closer
I’m not one for playing high-pole
Like the high soditty 90210 type of the ho
I treat a man like he treats me
The difference between a hooker and a ho ain’t nothin’ but a fee
So hold your tongue tightly, wish you could be like me
You’re poppin’ all that mess only to stress and to spite me
Now you can get with that or you can get with this
But I don’t give a shit cause really it’s none of your business

(1993, S and P, packin’ and mackin’
Bamboozlin’ and smackin’ suckers with this track
Throw the beat back in!)

[CHORUS]

How many rules am I to break before you understand
That your double-standards don’t mean shit to me?
I know exactly what you say when I turn and walk away
But that’s OK cause I don’t let it get it to me
Now every move I make somebody’s clockin’
Don’t ask me nothin’, will you just leave me alone?
Never mind who’s the guy that I took home…to bone

OK, Miss Thing never givin’ up skins
If you don’t like him or his friends what about that Benz?
Your Pep-Pep’s got an ill rep
With all that macaroni trap for rap you better step
Or better yet get your head checked
Cause I refuse to be played like a penny cent trick deck of cards
No, I ain’t hard like the bitches on a boulevard
My face ain’t scarred, and I don’t dance in bars
You can call me a tramp if you want to
But I remember the punk who just humped and dumped you
Or you can front if you have to
But everybody gets horny just like you
So, yo, so, yo, ho – check it, double deck it on a record butt-naked
Pep’s ass gets respect, and this butt is none of your business

[CHORUS]

So the moral of this story is: Who are you to judge?
There’s only one true judge, and that’s God
So chill, and let my Father do His job

Cause Salt and Pepa’s got it swingin’ again
Cause Salt and Pepa’s got it swingin’ again
Cause Salt and Pepa’s got it swingin’ again
Cause Salt and Pepa’s got it swingin’ again…

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