Song Meaning
Jane Birkin's "Con c'est con ces conséquences" is a study in the banality of heartbreak, a subject she knew intimately. The French idiom "Con c'est con ces conséquences" translates roughly to "The consequences are stupidly stupid," and the song circles this idea with a detached yet wounded air. It's a sentiment that acknowledges the inherent foolishness in the aftermath of a breakup, the frustrating simplicity of a complex emotional unraveling. Birkin, with her signature breathy delivery, doesn't wallow; she observes. She dissects the cliches of separation with a surgeon's precision, noting the obvious: "It's stupid that we're breaking up." The repetition of the phrase underscores the circular, almost maddening logic of lost love. It's dumb, it hurts, and it keeps echoing.
The lyrics hint at a deeper disillusionment beyond just the immediate pain. Lines like "We quickly know that we're no longer in cahoots" and "We lie, we avoid each other" point to a gradual erosion of intimacy and connection long before the final split. There's a sense of inevitability, a recognition that the love has been slowly dying, replaced by avoidance and unspoken resentments. The "histoire d'que de qu'on de Q" refrain, seemingly nonsensical, acts as a placeholder for all the unspoken, convoluted reasons behind the breakup – the things too messy or painful to articulate directly. It’s the inarticulable core of the failed relationship.
Ultimately, the song meaning resides in its stark acceptance. Birkin doesn't seek grand pronouncements or dramatic declarations. Instead, she focuses on the mundane reality of separation: the paperwork ("Signons notre indépendance"), the silent screams ("J'entends hurler le silence"), the persistent ache ("Mon cœur qui palpite"). The reference to hermaphrodite angels is a fascinating aside. Perhaps Birkin is suggesting that even the most divine beings, beings meant to embody perfect love, are themselves incomplete, inherently lacking. The song isn’t just about a breakup; it's about the inherent absurdity and incompleteness of love itself, and the foolish consequences that inevitably follow.