I sort of remember listening to Jacques Brel in my early days. What strikes me now is the extent to which this haggard son of a cardboard manufacturer is the least likely Belgian/Flemish/Dutch international superstar. Here on drunken Fishermen bringing out their Dutchmen.
And on the life cycle of Bohemianism
Why modesty causes me to blush in the face of the praise of such a knowledgeable commentator.
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