Jean-Louis Murat is dead.

That day of Spring 25th of May 2023 will forever remain a winter day for those who loved his art, which was my case. In 1995, I did a painting inspired by one of his compositions, Montagne - a composition tinged with a vertiginous spleen. He would probably have hated that painting, since it showed a megalopolis city -this was not by chance-, ie New York City. The antithesis of those Auvergne highlands that were his and that he loved so much. Had he seen that painting, perhaps would he have felt that it was a terrible misinterpretation of his song, or perhaps would he have been sensitive to its hidden symbolic background, to what it said -if not to its landscape, its shape or its colours. I shall never know, now.

Pas de bruit sur la mort de Jean-Louis. I feel that poet Jean-Louis' death went a little unnoticed. Telerama magazine :  one page.
The whole of the issue would have been a minimum ; and the least of things. Some Fallen Angel facing deaf and blind memory.

For those who might have forgotten that Jean-Louis Murat is one of the greatest French songwriters and poets, here are a couple of tracks -paths- to help refreshing their memory. Not even necessarily hits, not even the essential Forgotten Worlds and Snowy Kingdoms or An Orange thrown in the face of the Dead Moon. Just samples of pure Beauty, Talent and Heart. And of Magnitude.
He banged to the entrails like to the Heaven’s Gates. They opened up for him. He would question Beaudelaire's Angels full of Beauty, Joy and Light. He has all their answers now, because he is one among them.