Brigitte Bardot’s enduring echo in pop music

NEW YORK

Brigitte Bardot was far more than a defining face of 1960s French cinema. Actor, singer and later a prominent animal welfare activist, Bardot also became a lasting cultural reference in popular music, where her name has been repeatedly invoked by artists across generations as shorthand for allure, desire and iconic beauty.

Bardot, who died on Dec. 28 in southern France, occupied a unique place in the popular imagination. In song lyrics, she was often less a flesh-and-blood individual than a symbol — a name that instantly conjured a specific kind of glamour rooted in European cinema and postwar celebrity culture. Her alliterative name, rhythmically suited to lyrics, helped cement her status as an easily recognizable cultural signifier.

Although decades have passed since the height of her screen career, Bardot’s presence in music has remained strikingly durable. Musicians from diverse backgrounds and genres have continued to reference her, even as her public image grew more complex over time. Bardot’s later years were marked by controversy, including five convictions in French courts for inciting racial hatred and outspoken, often provocative remarks about the #MeToo movement.

Still, within popular music, Bardot’s name has largely functioned independently of biography or politics. Instead, it has operated as a metaphor — an idea of beauty or desire rather than a portrait of the woman herself.

One of the earliest and most notable references appears in Bob Dylan’s 1963 track “I Shall Be Free,” in which Bardot is humorously cited alongside other famous actresses as part of a surreal solution to America’s problems. In Brazil, Caetano Veloso’s landmark 1967 protest song “Alegria, Alegria” places Bardot amid a collage of political and pop imagery, reflecting the emerging tropicalismo movement’s fusion of culture and dissent.

In France, Bardot became directly involved in pop music through her collaboration with singer and songwriter Serge Gainsbourg. Their 1968 duet “Bonnie and Clyde,” inspired by a poem written by outlaw Bonnie Parker, stands as one of the era’s most emblematic recordings, blending cinema, literature and popular music.

References continued through the 1970s and 1980s. Elton John invoked Bardot in “I Think I’m Going to Kill Myself” in 1972, using her name as a fantastical symbol of salvation. In 1981, The Pretenders likened the power of love to Bardot’s magnetic presence, while Billy Joel’s 1989 hit “We Didn’t Start the Fire” positioned her among a roll call of global icons that defined the postwar cultural landscape.

The trend persisted into alternative and indie rock. Liz Phair’s 1993 song “Stratford-On-Guy” used Bardot as a fleeting image of cinematic beauty, underscoring themes of perception and distance. In the 2000s, Red Hot Chili Peppers referenced her in “Warlocks,” embedding her name in a portrait of Los Angeles nightlife and excess.

More recently, Bardot has continued to resonate with younger generations of artists. Kali Uchis, Olivia Rodrigo and Chappell Roan all invoke her name in songs released in the past decade, using Bardot as a metaphor for jealousy, desire or intoxicating attraction. These references demonstrate how Bardot’s image has remained legible even to listeners far removed from her era.

Across six decades of popular music, Brigitte Bardot’s name has endured as a symbol rather than a story. While debates over her personal views and public statements continue, the songs that reference her have ensured that Bardot remains embedded in the global soundscape, long after her final film appearance.