Catherine Ribeiro, iconoclastic singer and tireless activist, passed away during the night of August 22 to 23 at the age of 82. For decades, this daughter of Portuguese immigrants, born in the suburbs of Lyon, embodied a unique voice of libertarian rock in France, leaving an indelible mark on the music scene of the 70s.
Ribeiro was, first and foremost, an unforgettable stage presence. Always dressed in black, with clenched fists, she would come on stage with bangs partially covering her dark eyes, revealing a fierce determination. Her deep and powerful voice, combined with captivating music, was a reflection of her perpetually struggling soul. Her performances were more than concerts: they were manifestations of a rebellious spirit, an explosion of anger and love, poetry and despair. Catherine Ribeiro did not sing, she embodied a revolt, a visceral insubordination.
Born into a modest family, where struggle was part of daily life, Catherine grew up in Saint-Fons, near Lyon. Her father, a communist worker, and her mother, illiterate but gifted with a beautiful fado voice, passed on to her an exacerbated sensitivity. This difficult childhood, marked by factory smoke and strikes, forged in her an inextinguishable rage that would later be found in her songs.
In the 60s, after a notable stint in cinema, particularly in Jean-Luc Godard’s Les Carabiniers, Catherine Ribeiro made her debut in singing. However, from the beginning, she refused to be confined to the mold of yéyé or French pop. It was with Patrice Moullet, her artistic companion, that she created the group Alpes, with which she would explore bold musical paths, blending rock, experimental music, and poetry. Together, they produced nine albums that reflect their numerous commitments, whether political, social, or ecological.
Catherine Ribeiro was a free artist, radical in her choices and convictions. She defined herself as "free and libertarian," refusing to associate with any particular clan. Her music, like her life, was marked by a constant refusal of compromises. Even if the media often ignored her, and radio and television shunned her, it never prevented Ribeiro and Alpes from filling venues, from the Olympia to Bobino, and finding their audience. Their music, rebellious and poetic, left an indelible mark on the history of French rock.
The legacy of Catherine Ribeiro is not limited to her music. It is an attitude, a stance towards the world, an uncompromising and passionate way of being. She was this red pasionaria, this possessed priestess that French chanson often overlooked. She never bowed to the demands of show business. For those who knew and loved her, she will always remain this indomitable panther, ready to pounce on anything that could tarnish integrity or harm the conscience.
Today, in these times when bold voices are becoming rarer and more artificial, the departure of Catherine Ribeiro resonates as an immense loss for the French scene. But her songs, her commitments, and her rebellious spirit will continue to inspire those who still believe that engaged art can be a form of resistance, a weapon against indifference and injustice in these troubled times.