Their hits translated in any language

“My querido amor / No sabes cuánto pienso en ti / Mi querido amor / Podría hacerte tan feliz,’’ Wonder sings with his usual inflections and just a hint of an American accent.

The Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love’’ sounds even sweeter as “L’Amore Verrà’’ in Italian, and the Temptations’ “My Girl’’ literally becomes “Mein Girl’’ in German.

Those are some of the songs on Hip-O Select’s new “Motown Around the World: The Classic Singles,’’ a double-disc compilation out on Tuesday featuring some of the Detroit label’s marquee acts singing in Italian, German, French, and Spanish.

Amusing as it is to hear Motown classics rendered cute novelties, the album is a reminder of a forgotten phenomenon in 1960s pop music: the long-lost art of English-speaking musicians recording their hits in foreign languages.

“It was an interesting challenge for us because we didn’t do so much talking in German and French back then!’’ says Otis Williams, 69, the only surviving member of the original Temptations lineup. “We recorded those songs phonetically, and we were worried that we weren’t going to get them just right, but nobody expected us to get the language down perfect.’’

Linguistic accuracy wasn’t the guiding principle so much as the financial incentives. Before the British Invasion arrived in 1964, record labels figured pop music sung in English wouldn’t go over well in foreign countries, particularly places like France and Germany, where national pride was paramount.

“American music is one of our big exports, and most of the world accepts that quite well as opposed to foreign countries imposing their culture on us, which is a harder sell,’’ says Tim Brooks, a music historian and author. “Pop music has had periods where there’s been a fascination with something exotic, but starting in the ’60s, teens and adults were now listening to different things.’’

Recording in foreign tongues wasn’t entirely new or even relegated to pop music, but the trend really took hold in the 1960s, and then largely died out by the end of the decade. There have been exceptions since, including David Bowie’s German and French versions of “Heroes’’ in the ’70s, and Toni Braxton recorded her hit “Un-break My Heart’’ in Spanish (“Regresa a Mí’’) in 1996.

Nearly four decades before, though, it was a novel idea that netted massive record sales and unprecedented exposure to American popular music. No one was more adept at capitalizing on it than Connie Francis, who recorded in 13 languages and says she can get by in only two of them (Italian and Spanish).

In 1960, Francis started making a series of albums focused entirely on different cultures and languages: Italian, Jewish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, and so on. It wasn’t a common practice at the time, but Francis says she was emboldened by an early trip to Germany in which she was surprised there were no American pop singers on the charts except Elvis Presley.

“I had always thought American music was an international export, but it wasn’t,’’ Francis says. “There was no American music market anywhere in the world, except the English-speaking countries. And that told me something.’’

Soon after, Francis began recording her hits (“Who’s Sorry Now,’’ “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool,’’ “Stupid Cupid’’) in at least five different languages. But it wasn’t just a business move. She had a loftier agenda, seeing herself as an ambassador of American identity.

“I did have a talent for languages, but I wanted to use it for some beneficial things,’’ Francis says. “When I was 14, my dad said to me, ‘Look, if you ever do make it — and it’s a long shot — but if you ever do make it on record, you have to go to each country and sing in the language of the people. Our country has a lot of enemies, Connie, and you can make friends for America through music.’ And I always kept that in mind.’’

Francis, 71, estimates she sold in excess of 150 million albums in foreign markets — a greater success than she ever had in the United States — and her obsession with sounding credible in other languages set her apart. “That’s the one thing I said: I do not want an American accent,’’ Francis says. “That’s why people in Germany couldn’t believe I wasn’t German. And in Italy, they said I was born in Bologna.’’

Her strategy in the studio was essentially the same that others employed. She’d write out the words phonetically, almost always with someone coaching her on pronunciation, and then she’d put the meaning of the words underneath them in order to grasp the emotion her voice should convey. Francis pioneered the phenomenon, but she certainly wasn’t alone.

“When you dig deep, it’s amazing how many artists recorded for foreign-language markets. Some of them almost concentrated on that, but a lot of people at least dabbled,’’ says Richie Unterberger, rock historian and author, listing examples by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

“In some cases, artists made a really good career — we’re talking native English speakers — out of singing in other languages,’’ Unterberger adds. “One that comes to mind is Petula Clark, who recorded a lot in French.’’

By her own admission, Clark wasn’t hip to that idea in the early ’60s before “Downtown’’ made her a global pop star.

“I was very, very English back in those days, as English as a cup of tea,’’ Clark, 77, says. “To me everything else was foreign. There were the English and then the rest of the world.’’

After noticing other artists had been recording her songs in French, Clark’s Paris-based label urged her to “defend her songs.’’ She relented three weeks later and was shocked to see her career take off so fast outside of England.

“I started singing in French with a very thick accent, which they thought was charming,’’ Clark says, “and I very rapidly became their favorite singer. I realized that as you become a French star, you become a star in Belgium, Switzerland, North Africa, Morocco, Algeria, and French-speaking Canada, too.’’

It had a domino effect, marking the start of a short but successful run in which Clark racked up hits in foreign markets with new different versions of “Downtown’’ (called “Ciao Ciao’’ in Italy), “This Is My Song,’’ and “A Sign of the Times.’’ Fluent only in English and French, Clark admits she had trouble mastering German. (Francis says she did, too.)

But as the ’60s came to a close, the record industry — and pop culture at large — had undergone seismic shifts. Rock ’n’ roll was becoming the dominant sound all over the world, and fans were enthralled with its energy and intensity, not just the words anymore.

“It definitely seems to be the case that after the ’60s, this kind of activity was a lot less frequent, and I think that’s because access to worldwide media became so much huger than it was in the ’50s and ’60s,’’ Unterberger says. “But by the end of the ’60s, it was perceived that even if someone doesn’t know a word of English, they’re going to buy it anyway. And if they have the choice, they’ll probably want the English version.’’

Looking back, the Temptations’ Williams isn’t so sure all the extra effort was even necessary, at least not for Motown’s roster.

“I think people would have known the songs just as well even if we hadn’t recorded them in other languages,’’ he says. “We went to Poland, and they knew every word to ‘My Girl’ in English. So we realized that great music can knock down language barriers.’’

James Reed can be reached at jreed@ globe.com.