Cher Lloyd Being Worshipped in France Isn’t as Weird as it Sounds

I’ve always assumed that the French have better taste than us Brits. Whether it’s an inferiority complex derived from the fact they brought us the Impressionists while we tried to foist piss dull landscape painters like Constable unto the world I’m not sure. Stand outside the Pompidou on any given day and you’ll see queues stretching right up the Rue du Renard full of voracious art devourers. Haringey people can get their knickers in a twist about a stolen Banksy if they want, but show me the Manet any day of the week.

In music too, I’ve often been impressed by the Gallic gift for filtering out the crap we have to put up with, just because the music press tells you its important. Take the Stone Roses. They played two nights at Paris’ tiny La Cigale venue in Montmartre as a warmup for their massive Finsbury Park happening recently, and guess what, only one of those Parisian shows was sold out. Aside from a couple of low key appearances you wouldn’t have heard a dickie bird about it, while in Britain you can no longer walk the streets safely without getting Red Stripe poured on your bonnet by men in cricket hats pretending to be part of some monkey mafia. And you end up escaping them by saying “sound” a lot in a Burnage accent even though you’re from Truro. It’s not right I’m telling you, having to live with the shame of being a nation of unsophisticates. If that’s even a word.

At least that’s what I thought until Sunday when I was whiling away the hours on Twitter looking at what was trending around the world - as you do - and I noticed the top topic in France was this:

#WeWantCherLloydInFrance

As you can imagine, I was startled and somewhat surprised. And as the hours crept by, I kept checking back, astonished, as it remained the hot hashtag of the day in La France. Message upon message professed love for an artist deemed unlovable in her own backyard: “Cher Lloyd est incroyable!” wasn’t untypical, and I came to realise that they weren’t even being ironic. Some cursory investigation revealed a massive internet groundswell with Twitter accounts and fan sites devoted to the Malvern marauder and X Factor runner up (fourth place, season seven, fact fans). Like this one.

I’m sure the “Swagger Jagger” star would say, “a prophet is never accepted in her own town,” and she’d probably be right. But this is so surprising because it’s rare for a chanteuse Britannique to be accepted and enveloped into the bosom of La République. Marianne Faithfull and the late great Serge Gainsbourg’s partner in crime Jane Birkin are both revered as goddesses in France, but it should be noted that both a) live in Paris and b) are not shit. God only knows how Cher would cope with the unbridled devotion if she were to actually move across La Manche, as is oft requested by her adoring internet army.

Cher isn’t the first artist to be embraced in another country after their diffident homeland has shrugged its shoulders. She is part of a lineage that goes all the way back to Herman’s Hermits, a Manc beat combo that wowed America alongside the Beatles during the 60’s. Peter Noone’s loons have been written out of history somewhat, I guess because they were a national embarrassment, but the yanks loved them almost as much as they loved the Moptops. You can still hear their song "I’m Into Something Good" now and again on adverts for cereal.

Depeche Mode are another group who’ve slayed American audiences right throughout their 30 year career, when at times the Basildon troupe have struggled at home with people pointing and laughing at Martin Gore’s bird costumes. During the 90s, Gavin Rossdale’s Bush had gone multi-platinum six times across the Atlantic with Sixteen Stone before anyone had even heard of them in the UK. When we finally did open our shell-likes in their direction we merely debated whether or not they’d named themselves after the former Republican president or a pubic region. Even after all these years, the only thing of interest to come out of Rossdale is not a song, but Daisy Lowe, via his penis.

Former page 3 girl and professional lesbian Samantha Fox was laughed out of Britain during the 80s only to have a hugely successful pop career in Japan for a number of years. Menswear released their second album there when nobody wanted it in any other territory. Artists even came to be known by the acronym FILTH: Failed in London Try Hong Kong, although that acronym doesn’t account for the ‘K’ does it?

In Germany, Eddie Argos of Art Brut can’t get a train without being mobbed by adoring fans, whereas in London he could quite easily drink himself to death in the Dublin Castle without anyone noticing. In Germany there are also cathedrals built where locals go to worship David Hasselhoff - his 1985 ‘Night Rocker’ album played on repeat as they petition the former Baywatch star - whereas in America they just mock the singer as they remember that YouTube clip of him in a helpless alcoholic stupor trying to eat a burger.

Different strokes for different folks you might say, and now the chink in the armour of France’s sophisticated veneer has been located, perhaps we can post Pixie Lott and Rita Ora through it as well?

Follow Jeremy on Twitter @Jeres

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