Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Attack of the Cazals Brigade

Cazals play Alternation in Paris on the 17th June 2005
Cazals jouent à Alternation le 17 juin 2005

Cazals: Not Pompous

Cazals (not THE Cazals-very important) deliver the purest rock 'n' roll experience (with guitars et al.) that I have seen in quite a while.

Now, please do not misunderstand the above statement. These past few months I have experienced: masked disco, euphoria, stadium in a T.V studio and post-enjoyment in a stadium. All as valuable as each other but very dissimilar from a pure rock 'n' roll experience.

Cazals take the stage with swagger and bravado but without second thoughts, as if they were taking a street corner back in London. They start playing without warning, when the crowd is expectant but not yet at fever pitch. Consequently, when the stick hits the drum, when the finger slaps the bass and the hand clasps the mike... you can imagine the response.

They introduce themselves with a sideways sentence into a mike after Poor Innocent Boys : 'Hi we're Cazals' . Let's quickly come back to the missing 'the'. Why on earth did they decide drop it from their name? I imagine it's for the same reason that James Joyce chose to call his early collection of short stories "Dubliners" and not The Dubliners. There is a sort of humble self-assurance in Cazals that makes the defining article completely superfluous. In a way it is linked to how they started the gig and how then played on so effortlessly, completely oblivious to the fact that they were playing in public.

May be that is just it, it didn't feel like a gig. There was none of that infuriating retro-rock ritual we have now come to expect from so many bands. Yet the mood is difficult to pinpoint. The ease with which they played was not of an indifferent nature, it paradoxically made them more involved in the music. In fact, I get the impression that the crowd felt redundant. The band was so caught up with the music that they didn't need to be cheered or heckled. Any attempt to re-enact ritualistic audience response fell flat on its rosy arse.

Then there was also a song supposedly about Phil and Dan (guitar), preceded by hurried and hushed discussion amongst band members. It's a slower track, that still retains all the tension from the others. Dan has this habit that I love; in some songs he works the spaces by thumping the back of his guitar and creating imptomptu squalls. I imagine that since his guitar parts are so tight, he must require some sort of release.

And how could we forget, their utterly magnificent cover of Spandau Ballet's 'To Cut A Long Story Short'. From the first few guitar licks, I was sobbing with my gob wide open. The cold poignancy of the orginal remained intact as guitar riffs interwove and the offbeat rimshots were all there to relieve the tension. The last time I cried on the dancefloor was two years ago in Geneva when DMX Krew played "The Glass Room", his Hi-NRG teary vocoder lament. The fact that Cazals made me cry without a single synth proves that they amazingly managed to retain the essence of the original, and that is no mean feat because guitars have never before made me cry.

This is indeed a momentous day, the day when Rock 'n' Roll lost its 'the'.

Cazals: Crowd Snap
Pre-Scriptum: Walk into the patio, playful chat with the girls at the till. Take the wrong entrance and bump into Phil Cazal (lead vocals), say that I enjoyed their video on the Trash website. He smiles, slice is nice. He turns to a familiar but self-effacing fellow to my right who is wearing a dandy scarf and a NASA T-shirt. I immediately approve noddingly and break off for the main event only to find DD and G already at the front. The stage rides low, the set-up simple and the soundcheck ramshackle. The man in the NASA T-shirt appears in my periphereal gaze.


Post-Scriptum: As I walk out into the lamplight with DD and G, I spot a sleek jet black sports car under some trees, a uniformed man waiting inside. Then I make the connection with the dapper scarfed fellow with the NASA T-Shirt.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

20 Minutes to Live (corrigé)

Everyone is reading the free newspapers distributed every morning in front of the subway station. The person behind me has even picked up two copies. The key to their success is, like for most things these days, blandness.

Take the writing style: inclusive, concerned but non-polemical, non-confrontational and politically correct. It is the same type of writing you find in local newspapers. Here however it is applied to everything from international affairs to film reviews.

The lady next to me has just asked her neighbour if she could borrow her copy when she had finished. Don't blame her, she needs her daily dose. New stop: another middle-aged woman sits opposite me with her crisp copy of the same newspaper.(*)

All these people are on their way to work. They need to occupy their time without occupying their mind. They don't listen to music or read literature, so they pick up the first thing that falls free into their hands. Need I over-emphasize, these people are going to work. They don't want to be challenged by what they read. Hell, most of them haven't had their morning coffee. They just want some gentle facts and non-descript opinions to regurgitate in pleasant and polite conversation with colleagues at work and friends and family outside.

Though the tone is bland something is afoot, lurking in the depths as it were. This has very much to do with tone and language; a sort of affected concern for an affected propriety, a bland decorum rooted in the consensual nature of our material society. I call it New Utilitarianism. Dickens would probably agree with me too.


(*)Suddenly, I notice something downright terrifying. The lady who had already read her copy and passed it on to my neighbour is now eyeing the newcomer's copy as if she hadn't read her own copy. They can't get enough of it. Talk about eradicating inner city drug culture, I feel as if I am in a crackhouse. I am not safe here. If tomorrow these same newspapers publish orders to kill anyone who dislikes the film 'Amélie'... I will be eaten alive by these very same commuters.


20 Minutes pour mourir
Tout le monde lit les journaux gratuits distribués à l’entrée des gares de métro et de RER. La personne derrière moi en a même pris deux. La clef de leur succès, comme tout maintenant, une douceur fade.

Prenons le style d’écriture : accessible, préoccupé sans être polémique et politiquement correct. C’est le même type d’écriture que l’on retrouve dans les journaux locaux. Cependant ici elle est étendue à tous les articles, qu’ils traitent d’actualité internationale où de cinéma il n'y a plus de difference.

La dame à côté de moi vient de demander à sa voisine si elle pourrait lire sa copie une fois que cette dernière ait finie. Elle n’est pas coupable, elle a juste besoin de sa dose diurne. Un autre arrêt : une autre dame s’assied devant moi et commence à feuilleter sa copie neuve du même journal.(*)

Tous ces gens vont travailler. Ils ont besoin d’occuper leur temps mais pas leur esprit. Ils n’écoutent pas de musique et ils ne lisent pas non plus. Alors, ils prennent la première chose gratuite qui leur tombe dans leur main. Faut il que je souligne que ces gens vont travailler. Ils ne veulent pas être défiés par ce qu’ils lisent. En fait la plus part n’on sans doute même pas bu leur premier café. Ils veulent juste quelques informations et opinions sans épines qu’ils pourront régurgiter dans leurs conversations agréables et polies avec leurs collègues et leurs familles.

Même si le ton et doux et fade, il y a quelque chose d’inquiétant qui se remue dans les profondeurs sémantiques. C’est une question de ton et de langage : une sorte de souci affecté pour une convenance affectée, un décorum doux enraciné dans la nature consensuelle de la société. Je nomme cela ‘New Utilitarianism’ et Dickens serait sans doute de mon avis aussi.


(*) Je viens de voir une chose horrible: la femme qui avait cédé sa copie déjà-lue est en train de regarder celle de sa nouvelle voisine, comme si elle ne l'avait jamais lue. Elle en a besoin.
Je ne me sens pas sûr ici. Imaginons que ces mêmes journaux ordonnaient de tuer toute personne qui exècre le film 'Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain' ... ces gens pourraient me tuer sans aucun remords et sans doute sans aucun souvenir.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Seagulls & Monster Trucks

Pineapple
Ace Pilot of Dover.
Pilote entre l'acier de Douvres.

Town vs. Gown
"The Cowley Thrasher"
Cowley est la rue longue au sud d'Oxford. Avec le légendaire UPP, cinéma au bord de la ruine mais qui persiste toujours.

Pimm's
Fishnets and Pimm's at Jude the Obscure in Jericho.
Un combo imbattable. Dommage pour l'héritage.

Mortarboard not pictured here.

Le carré noir ne sera pas affiché ici.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Transgressor

Drifting Color Scheme

It was a special occasion.
C'est maintenant ou jamais.

Monday, June 06, 2005

Offline Week

This week I'm drifting elsewhere.

C'est la semaine de l'offline. En hibernation les premiers jours, en observation le reste du temps. Les activités reprendront in due course.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Cross-Country Bussing

Mysteron Bus

10 hour race. 3 Drivers. Bus and Ferry crossing

Fuel (non-exhaustive)

1x Sandwich (Spam Salad)
1x 50cl bottle of Yorkshire water.
4x Friendly choc-chip biscuits.
1x Friendly cherry.

1x Discussion on the Education System with seat neighbour
1x Discussion about Cities and moving around.
1x Show provided by kid in front.
200x photographs.

10h de course. 3 conducteurs sur deux véhicules. Abordage et passage sur un ferry.

Fioul-Oil (non-exhaustif)

1x Sandwich jambon funeste et salade silencieuse.
1x Bouteille d'eau minerale du Yorkshire.
4x Biscuits amicaux au pépites de chocolat.
1x Cerise amicale.

1x Discussion sur l'Éducation avec le voisin de passage.
1x Discussion sur les Villes et les déplacements.
1x Spectacle improvisé par l'enfant de devant.
200x photos prises.
1x Prieres Americaines, ed. Vincent Pecoil, Les Presses du Reel, 2002. (ISBN2-84066-068-7)

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Electrocute thrash the jackpot! (II)

Electrocute - Nouveau Casino, Paris - 18/04/05
Part 2: Burnout Fever

Electrocute - Nicole

Tyre marks

Nicole:

"Born in San Francisco during an earthquake. Raised in Albuquerque (New Mexico) in the middle of nowhere… in the mountains. High School in Albuquerque. Then Austin Texas: Bar tender, waitress life for a year and started a band with some girls. Met another band called the Golden Showers at my doorstep who were half German. They took me to Berlin the first time. Went back to the States with them lived in New York. Played 2 years around New York with the Golden Showers and toured the States and Europe. [Laughing] Succesfully ran away from New York to New Orleans. On the run and stayed in New Orleans for about a year and a half and then President Bush took office and we went to Berlin. Left America, and I’ve been in Berlin for 4 years. I know I sound old but I’m only 28."

Electrocute - Cinematic

Holly:

"Raised in Tennessee. Went to Berlin as an exchange student. 16 fell in love with Berlin. Went back to Tennessee. Then moved back to Berlin again at 18. Then moved to DC where I studied fine arts. Then I moved back to Berlin again and I started an electro-band that didn’t work out. And then Nicole asked me to join Electrocute. "

Electrocute - Roles

50's Americana

"Holly: You gotta like something about America. Might as well take the shiny part. "

"Nicole: That’s really jaded. [laughs]. I dunno, I like glamour. When I was in New Orleans I was really fond of it because all this burlesque and really amazing girls all dressed up and I worked at a store where they sold wigs and make up. And all the drag queens would come in there and I kinda got into wearing fake eyelashes. Just being glamorous and like kind of an exaggerated woman or something. Sometimes when I dress up I feel like a drag queen. Basically, like the way a guy would take the role of a woman and exaggerate it. So I mean its not a necessity for us either but its just fun and just things that sparkle and when you’re doing show-business; part of it is getting dressed up… "

Electrocute - Ear Fondle

Instrumental Update

About her Fender Mustang:

N: "Oh I just wrote that on there [website] to be kitschy. The guitar is special itself. It’s from 1961 and it’s very rare, it’s the blue colour jade or whatever, I don’t know what they call it. It’s the most rare. It’s the first guitar that I really felt ‘oh now I know how to play’ all of a sudden. Like I had all these bashed up guitars and traded everything I owned in for that guitar. It’s been the one sentimental guitar that I’ve had. So I like it."

Electrocute - Keys

On the sickly Novation Bass Station

"H: Kaput
N: Kaput
H: Actually it’s with Stereo Total
N: They took it back.
H:(screams) they stole it !
H: I have the Korg Sequencer now and a little sampler."

To Be Furthered...

First Part - Click Here