
The Melancholy Hue of Lost Love, Drenched in Nostalgia
Ah, the late 1960s. An era of kaleidoscopic change, musical revolutions, and for many, a deeply personal soundtrack of soaring highs and reflective lows. In 1968, as the summer of love’s echo began to fade, a song emerged that, by all rights, shouldn’t have topped the charts, especially not in its original, purely instrumental form. Yet, it captured the global mood, a swirling tapestry of melancholy and wistful beauty. The piece, of course, was “L’amour est bleu”, which became a worldwide phenomenon and a seminal moment for American country legend Marty Robbins under the English title, “Love Is Blue”.
Before Robbins wrapped his silken baritone around it, the song had already been an international sensation. It was an entry for Luxembourg in the 1967 Eurovision Song Contest, performed by Greek singer Vicky Leandros. While it only finished fourth, the melody, composed by André Popp with original French lyrics by Pierre Cour, possessed an undeniable, cinematic quality. The most iconic version, however, the one that truly burned itself into the global consciousness, was the instrumental arrangement by French orchestra leader Paul Mauriat. Mauriat’s rendition, a lush, highly polished piece featuring harpsichord and soaring strings, was an absolute anomaly on the US charts. It was a stunning achievement, peaking at Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and spending five weeks in that top spot in February and March of 1968, a testament to its universal appeal.
But where does the great Marty Robbins fit into this Franco-Greek-Instrumental success story? Always an artist unafraid to defy categorization—who could effortlessly transition from gunfighter ballads like “El Paso” to Hawaiian music—Robbins saw the potential for a lyrical English translation. Recognizing the melody’s power, he recorded his vocal version with English lyrics penned by Bryan Blackburn. This wasn’t the Mauriat-esque instrumental; this was a classic Robbins treatment, a softer, more reflective country-pop ballad that perfectly matched his distinctive style. Released on his 1968 album, also titled “Love Is Blue”, his single version didn’t challenge Mauriat’s instrumental dominance, but it cemented the song’s place in his already legendary catalogue, becoming a significant country hit.
The story behind the original lyrics is a simple, yet profound, contemplation of the emotional spectrum of love, cleverly using colors as metaphors. Blue is for sadness and the tears of separation; gray is for the memory; red is for passion; and green is for the hope of future joy. This simple conceit is what gives the song its enduring meaning. “Love Is Blue” is not a tale of a dramatic breakup; it’s a tender, almost resigned acceptance of the melancholy that is intertwined with deep affection. When we reflect on lost loves, the dominant color is often not the fiery red of anger or the blinding white of passion, but that soft, receding blue—the tint of quiet sorrow and tender reminiscence.
For those of us who recall that year, “Love Is Blue” isn’t just a song; it’s a specific, potent piece of a sonic time capsule. It evokes memories of crackly radio speakers, slow dances under a dim gymnasium light, and the distinct feeling of youthful yearning. It’s a moment of elegant restraint in a decade of musical excess. It reminds us that sometimes, the most sophisticated emotional truths are conveyed not through loud rock anthems or rapid-fire country tunes, but through a gentle melody and a simple truth: that love, in its absence, leaves behind a shade of beautiful, resonant blue. It’s a song for quiet evenings and rearview mirror glances at the chapters of our lives now closed, yet still colored in memory.