Henri Droguet’s poetry seemingly defies any attempt to be set into music ; isn’t it in itself supremely orchestral by its verbal exhuberance, its visionary lyricism and its frantic rhythm ?
But there is a fracture in which the singing voice can be intro- duced : an emotion playing with the derision, an extreme sensitivity avoiding any temptation of exhibition, and behind the sense of humour, the absurdity and the “éclat”, a hidden fragility.
Anthony Girard
(translation Philippe Do)