Just a brief announcement.
http://www.dedale.info/fiascosystem/fiasco09.htm
I'll be doing impromptu visuals and playing live old-school computer games (Gunstar Heroes revival all the way!) for the Fiasco System Night this coming friday (4 March) at the Triptyque, Paris.
Come and check out my eyecandy and shuffle to the irresistible live synthdisko of Bangkok Impact, Raiders of the Lost ARP and to the rare delights of Vladimir Ivkovic (Substance - De) and Eva Revox, no respite and abrasive cross-fader action.
BANGKOK IMPACT (Creme - FIN) LIVE
RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARP (Nature - IT) LIVE
VLADIMIR IVKOVIC (Substance - ALL) DJ SET
EVA REVOX (Fiasco System - FR) DJ SET
...and BABY CORVETTE (unanounced as usual - FR)
VISUALS + VIDEOGAMES = EYECANDY
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Queer as Pop
Glaz'arts, Paris 26-02-05
VJ: Surrender Winona
Live: Starving (Belgium), Motorama (Italy)
DJ's Popingays
Starving
Starving's lead singer - Claudia.
Starving keyboardist - Florence with a tasty GEM keyboard.
Starving are undoubtedly a pop band...see you can tell from the arm waving. It seems rather incredible that Claudia made her singing debut in a belgian hardcore band.
Il n'y a pas de doute, ils sont un groupe de pop... guitares qui dégringolent par les escaliers de la melodie et des séquences synthés qui te font osciller de plaisir.
At this point Claudia was executing a little dance intermission.
Une petit tour avant de revenir au micro.
The calm before the cowbell storm. Behind the keyboard the scene is almost cinematic.
Ce calme célluloïde et luxueux...wouah.
I am very jealous of her hair. I want her flawless fringe.
Argh, Je veux cette frange parfaite.
Motorama
Drum and guitar thrash clatter straight from Rome.
Les Dj's du collectif Popingays réglent leur mixette tandis que Motorama se pare de feedback et de larsens.
Cymbal frenzy.
Rien ne vaut mieux qu'un rythme primal.
A rare smile from the queen of 'blowing up people's ear drums with endless feedback'.
Un rare sourire de la reine du 'monte-jusqu'à-onze'.
...and another rare moment of bliss from hell's own drummer.
...un autre moment de joie éphemere pour la batteuse de la pénombre.
A Gibson SG and a Marshall, where does rock 'n' roll go on from here?
Une Gibson SG et un ampli Marshall... c'est rock!
VJ: Surrender Winona
Live: Starving (Belgium), Motorama (Italy)
DJ's Popingays
Starving
Starving's lead singer - Claudia.
Starving keyboardist - Florence with a tasty GEM keyboard.
Starving are undoubtedly a pop band...see you can tell from the arm waving. It seems rather incredible that Claudia made her singing debut in a belgian hardcore band.
Il n'y a pas de doute, ils sont un groupe de pop... guitares qui dégringolent par les escaliers de la melodie et des séquences synthés qui te font osciller de plaisir.
At this point Claudia was executing a little dance intermission.
Une petit tour avant de revenir au micro.
The calm before the cowbell storm. Behind the keyboard the scene is almost cinematic.
Ce calme célluloïde et luxueux...wouah.
I am very jealous of her hair. I want her flawless fringe.
Argh, Je veux cette frange parfaite.
Motorama
Drum and guitar thrash clatter straight from Rome.
Les Dj's du collectif Popingays réglent leur mixette tandis que Motorama se pare de feedback et de larsens.
Cymbal frenzy.
Rien ne vaut mieux qu'un rythme primal.
A rare smile from the queen of 'blowing up people's ear drums with endless feedback'.
Un rare sourire de la reine du 'monte-jusqu'à-onze'.
...and another rare moment of bliss from hell's own drummer.
...un autre moment de joie éphemere pour la batteuse de la pénombre.
A Gibson SG and a Marshall, where does rock 'n' roll go on from here?
Une Gibson SG et un ampli Marshall... c'est rock!
Special Mention to Dafne aka Surrender Winona of AC/DShe fame (see links) and her live visuals set was excellent fun, cut and paste aesthetic all the way...plus she sported a damn desirable t-shirt and a fringe so sharp that it could kill.
Le live cinema de Surrender Winona (AC/DShe - voir liens) était un délire DIY Couper/Coller à souhait. En plus elle avait une t-shirt 'hyper-sexuelle' (cf. Discobabel) et une frange qui aurait pu me couper en deux.
...also to Dorothée (Popingays) who is a fanzine producer and dj too.
Mention Speciale pour Dorothée, membre de Popingays qui fait un fanzine et elle mixe mieux que moi, mais...mais je vais pas parler de sa frange quand même, si non ça va être la 'frange overdose'.
Discobabel Maxi Troc
9 Billards, Paris 25-02-05
The idea is quite simple really bring your old records get exchanging tickets and then pick up anything you want. On this occasion the legendary Phillippe Dumez extended the idea to band t-shirts.
Idée simple et jouissive, échange des disques dont tu ne veux plus pour des tickets qui te permettent d'en choisir d'autres, parfait pour re-oxygéner ta collection de disques. Dumez a étendu l'idée au t-shirts de groupe. Voir site Discobabel sur mes liens.
Yep the venue was a snooker club, and 'Dame billiards' probably looks on from her mirror with disdain .
"La Sainte des Billards" ne comprend pas ce qui se passe.
Frenzy over vinyl
"Echangez Echangez Echangez!"
"They call me trilogy 'cuz I got three gonads" - Gonzales 'Presidential Suite LP'
Ils n'en ont pas l'air... mais pour nous c'est de l'or.
Nice to see that some people are hitting it off.
The Usual Suspects
People got excited with the influx of new records coming in. The arrival of a record company exec who shall remain nameless created much excitement. Certain people who shall too remain nameless may be got a little too carried away. But hey it's understandable.
I had a brilliant evening and I came home with a damn fine disc:
C'était une soirée super et j'ai ramené chez moi un disque hors-pair:
Jeremy Deller and the THE WILLIAMS FAIREY BRASS BAND "Acid Brass"
A brilliant idea hatched in a pub becomes reality: Early 90's dance anthems by the KLF, 808 State and A Guy Called Gerald amongst many others covered by the Williams Fairey Brass Band.
The reason for Acid Brass was that Deller saw Acid House and Brass Band as two subversive music types united by their involvement in civil disobedience. Deller being Deller wanted to bring them together, whatever it took.
Jeremy Deller is an artist who is also known for his live reconstructions of 1980's miner's strikes in the north of England.
"Quel rapport entre KLF, A GUY CALLED GERALD, 808 STATE, TODD TERRY et une fanfare du nord de l'Angleterre? Réponse: la désobéissance civile, la "Northern Culture", les rassemblements de masse, les manifestations de la classe ouvrière, l'hystérie des médias, la désindustrialisation, les festivals, la musique en plein air, un public nombreux et fidèle. L'acid house et les "brass bands" (fanfare ouvrières) ont beucoup de choses en commun, culturellement et musicalement. ACID BRASS est l'illustration de cette rencontre-choc." - Labels.com
Friday, February 25, 2005
Troublesome Playlist
For C's info,
Highlights of what we heard yesterday (Dead Sexy Inc. DJ Set at the Katabar):
Fat Truckers - 'Superbike' (Gigolo): the definition of synth-rock from Sheffield.
Kiko - 'Italomatic' (Kiko and the Hacker): the one I always confuse with...
Ferenc - "Yes Sir I Can Hardcore" because they are on the same cd at home*
Mick Wills - Kill Kill (Gigolo): the relentless one with the urgent synth pads on top.
*which I have been known to confuse with Volga Select's "The Unconditional Discipline of the Bastard Prince" (Output)...Argh! Enough of this po-mo cross-referencing.
Highlights of what we heard yesterday (Dead Sexy Inc. DJ Set at the Katabar):
Fat Truckers - 'Superbike' (Gigolo): the definition of synth-rock from Sheffield.
Kiko - 'Italomatic' (Kiko and the Hacker): the one I always confuse with...
Ferenc - "Yes Sir I Can Hardcore" because they are on the same cd at home*
Mick Wills - Kill Kill (Gigolo): the relentless one with the urgent synth pads on top.
*which I have been known to confuse with Volga Select's "The Unconditional Discipline of the Bastard Prince" (Output)...Argh! Enough of this po-mo cross-referencing.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Spiral Melanchol
Spirale de Tristesse
Vers nulle part.
To Nowhere
An hour later I would be watching 3 Star Trek films in a row, I wish I knew why.
Une heure plus tard, je regardais Star Trek, je ne sais pas pour quoi.
Tendre Spirale
I need to go down.
Irréconciliable.
Vers nulle part.
To Nowhere
An hour later I would be watching 3 Star Trek films in a row, I wish I knew why.
Une heure plus tard, je regardais Star Trek, je ne sais pas pour quoi.
Tendre Spirale
I need to go down.
Irréconciliable.
Woozy Night
Chiennes Hi Fi
Rework (live), Lullabies and Les Putafranges
(Triptyque, Paris) 12-02-05
What remains are some hastily scribbled notes. I’ll try to decrypt the squiggles and arbitrary short hand to make sense of the night. Therefore here’s the variorum edition of my Chiennes Hi Fi Reminiscence Package in chronological order.
Putafranges’ first heat
- 1:05 a.m “Kiki Luv Sikk early airing”:
From the first quintessential b-movie harp sting, my mind was yanked out of orbit. My feet immediately followed on the empty dancefloor, which reminded me of Scorcese’s “After Hours”.
- 1:17a.m “Melancholy clap-house”:
It was different from the other Putafranges warm up sets. A few deep tracks followed each other, without being soporific thankfully.
- 1:41 a.m “Arpeggio excess”:
After the melancholy came the sequencers like little pixies biting our cheeks with their sawtooth teeth to lift us out of the previous deep house histrionics.
- 1:44 a.m “Chopping chord sequences & rimshot madness”:
The dancefloor was filled with anticipation and the martial acid disco was the right kind of discipline.
- ???“Dakar & Grinser - I wanna be your dog”:
the standard polite electro shuffle was quite out of the question. What was needed was a some unavowed and unsynchronised headbanging.
- ???“Schizo-Rock remix screamo-popcock”:
an unexpected departure here from the Putafranges by playing an electropop remix of some MTV cannon fodder. Inspired last minute choice or unforgivable mistake…you decide! I danced on with unease.
- !!!“France Copland – Pute et Mac digression”:
Finally I get to hear the first ever francophone Booty Bass track. It was about time and damn worth it too. Could Paris be the new Miami? I was recently told who was behind the twin Sarkozy masks but I forgot the names (typical).
- “This is what dreams are made of”
a dub version of the Human League’s electropop staple gives me a grin as wide as a harbour.
Rework live
- “A stern man came on and set some stern lines in motion”
this is what I wrote about one of the guys from Rework. They played some inhospitable house.
- “groove emerges from the starkness” that was a strong point of their set.
- 2:15 a.m “swooshes […] wobbles” always exciting
- “cocaine trilby pimp chic” sums up the singer’s look.
- “icy backing” they are German and signed to Playhouse, so no surprises there.
- “I love you – people stopped answering”
a very long track designed to build up crowd rapport. However 5 minutes of being told that you are loved over some teutonic beats was too much for some.
- “plinky” a neologism to describe a track called “crash test”
- 2:43 a.m “I just want you – relentless bass” nuff’ said
- “Music to dance to with a pencil behind your ear” made sense at the time.
- 2:50 “Say hey, a current affairs electric piano jingle riff”
I remember enjoying the piano loop in this track which was reminiscent of Spanish news music on the radio back in the day.
- “dainty house” will it ever exist? Rework are sometimes dainty.
- “Judicious groans and cowbells” enjoyed by everyone.
- “tuff gravel bass”
not dainty any more, at this point Rework were downright filthy.
- “Toms and stabs – Qu’est ce que tu fais là?”
without them electro wouldn’t exist. This track must have been full of them.
- Roughly 3 a.m or so “finishing off with a light pitch-shifted skiffle-shuffle ditty” seems to be all the rage these days.
Lullabies
No notes about her set initially because I was being accosted by several people looking for cigarettes, and at the end because I was dancing. It took her a while to find her feet but by the end she was hitting bull’s-eye track after track after track.
Putafranges closing heat.
- 4:19 probably “A woozy mood reigns”
- “Rocket Ride”
by Felix da Housecat, I presume. Back in the day, I met Melistar who worked on Kittenz and the Glitz.
- “cover -> Satisfaction”
a second-degree punk version of the Ministry of Sound’s unspeakable abomination.
- “Temporary Secretary”
a bit of a Chiennes Hi Fi standard it seems.
They also played Bloc Party and I get the impression Tom Tom Club may have got an airing too.
6.00 Snooze back home on the RER.
Rework (live), Lullabies and Les Putafranges
(Triptyque, Paris) 12-02-05
What remains are some hastily scribbled notes. I’ll try to decrypt the squiggles and arbitrary short hand to make sense of the night. Therefore here’s the variorum edition of my Chiennes Hi Fi Reminiscence Package in chronological order.
Putafranges’ first heat
- 1:05 a.m “Kiki Luv Sikk early airing”:
From the first quintessential b-movie harp sting, my mind was yanked out of orbit. My feet immediately followed on the empty dancefloor, which reminded me of Scorcese’s “After Hours”.
- 1:17a.m “Melancholy clap-house”:
It was different from the other Putafranges warm up sets. A few deep tracks followed each other, without being soporific thankfully.
- 1:41 a.m “Arpeggio excess”:
After the melancholy came the sequencers like little pixies biting our cheeks with their sawtooth teeth to lift us out of the previous deep house histrionics.
- 1:44 a.m “Chopping chord sequences & rimshot madness”:
The dancefloor was filled with anticipation and the martial acid disco was the right kind of discipline.
- ???“Dakar & Grinser - I wanna be your dog”:
the standard polite electro shuffle was quite out of the question. What was needed was a some unavowed and unsynchronised headbanging.
- ???“Schizo-Rock remix screamo-popcock”:
an unexpected departure here from the Putafranges by playing an electropop remix of some MTV cannon fodder. Inspired last minute choice or unforgivable mistake…you decide! I danced on with unease.
- !!!“France Copland – Pute et Mac digression”:
Finally I get to hear the first ever francophone Booty Bass track. It was about time and damn worth it too. Could Paris be the new Miami? I was recently told who was behind the twin Sarkozy masks but I forgot the names (typical).
- “This is what dreams are made of”
a dub version of the Human League’s electropop staple gives me a grin as wide as a harbour.
Rework live
- “A stern man came on and set some stern lines in motion”
this is what I wrote about one of the guys from Rework. They played some inhospitable house.
- “groove emerges from the starkness” that was a strong point of their set.
- 2:15 a.m “swooshes […] wobbles” always exciting
- “cocaine trilby pimp chic” sums up the singer’s look.
- “icy backing” they are German and signed to Playhouse, so no surprises there.
- “I love you – people stopped answering”
a very long track designed to build up crowd rapport. However 5 minutes of being told that you are loved over some teutonic beats was too much for some.
- “plinky” a neologism to describe a track called “crash test”
- 2:43 a.m “I just want you – relentless bass” nuff’ said
- “Music to dance to with a pencil behind your ear” made sense at the time.
- 2:50 “Say hey, a current affairs electric piano jingle riff”
I remember enjoying the piano loop in this track which was reminiscent of Spanish news music on the radio back in the day.
- “dainty house” will it ever exist? Rework are sometimes dainty.
- “Judicious groans and cowbells” enjoyed by everyone.
- “tuff gravel bass”
not dainty any more, at this point Rework were downright filthy.
- “Toms and stabs – Qu’est ce que tu fais là?”
without them electro wouldn’t exist. This track must have been full of them.
- Roughly 3 a.m or so “finishing off with a light pitch-shifted skiffle-shuffle ditty” seems to be all the rage these days.
Lullabies
No notes about her set initially because I was being accosted by several people looking for cigarettes, and at the end because I was dancing. It took her a while to find her feet but by the end she was hitting bull’s-eye track after track after track.
Putafranges closing heat.
- 4:19 probably “A woozy mood reigns”
- “Rocket Ride”
by Felix da Housecat, I presume. Back in the day, I met Melistar who worked on Kittenz and the Glitz.
- “cover -> Satisfaction”
a second-degree punk version of the Ministry of Sound’s unspeakable abomination.
- “Temporary Secretary”
a bit of a Chiennes Hi Fi standard it seems.
They also played Bloc Party and I get the impression Tom Tom Club may have got an airing too.
6.00 Snooze back home on the RER.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Leaning on Movement
Sur le RER ligne A. Moment de détente célluloïde.
Thanks and Respect to Tinycatt. A great photographer, radio presenter and cook. A man (and cat) for all seasons.
Unrequited Hiatus
Silence Radio
Hello...is this thing on...yep...good. Due to anxiety and laziness, I haven't been on top of things lately and updating this log has been the first casualty.
Salut...ce truc marche?...mouais...bon. Par cause d'anxiété et lâcheté, je suis un peu désorbité ces derniers temps et mon blog en a été l'une des victimes.
Coming up hopefully:
Prochainement:
Hello...is this thing on...yep...good. Due to anxiety and laziness, I haven't been on top of things lately and updating this log has been the first casualty.
Salut...ce truc marche?...mouais...bon. Par cause d'anxiété et lâcheté, je suis un peu désorbité ces derniers temps et mon blog en a été l'une des victimes.
Coming up hopefully:
Prochainement:
- Chiennes Hi Fi club night transcript, feat. Les Putafranges, Rework and Lullabies.
- Maim the Tape, Cut and Paste - making visual mixtapes
- THX 1138 - Electronic Labyrinth.
- Up, close and personal
- Why Bill Hicks still rules today
Monday, February 07, 2005
Posting Comments
NEWS: PATRICE CAILLET PHOTOS UPDATED BELOW!!
Comment poster un commentaire
Suite à plusieurs demandes de comment mettre des commentaires sur mon blog, voici un bref explicatif que j'espère résoudra le problème.
1. Cliquez sur le lien "Post A Comment" en bas du 'post'.
2. Vous arrivez sur une page où l'on vous demande de vous loguer.
3. Juste en dessous du grand bouton bleu "Sign In" il y a un lien qui dit "Or Post Anonymously".
4. Cliquez sur ce dernier.
5. Vous arriverez alors sur une page où vous pouvez écrire votre commentaire.
Si vous souhaitez vous identifiez faites-le dans le corps du message même.
Il y a maintenant plus d'excuse.
Comment poster un commentaire
Suite à plusieurs demandes de comment mettre des commentaires sur mon blog, voici un bref explicatif que j'espère résoudra le problème.
1. Cliquez sur le lien "Post A Comment" en bas du 'post'.
2. Vous arrivez sur une page où l'on vous demande de vous loguer.
3. Juste en dessous du grand bouton bleu "Sign In" il y a un lien qui dit "Or Post Anonymously".
4. Cliquez sur ce dernier.
5. Vous arriverez alors sur une page où vous pouvez écrire votre commentaire.
Si vous souhaitez vous identifiez faites-le dans le corps du message même.
Il y a maintenant plus d'excuse.
The Shocking Truth about Patrice Caillet (Updated)
UPDATED !! UPDATED !! UPDATED !! UPDATED !!
Photos de la boum orchestrée par Patrice Caillet.
Samedi 5 février à la Galerie Corentin Hamel.
Please excuse the above title, it just sounded good. There's nothing to be worried about.
Excusez moi pour ce titre ouvertement sensationnel. Il n'y a aucune raison de s'affoler. C'était just un accès de rhétorique.
I leave you to add your own comments.
Ajoutez vos propres commentaires.
My duty is to faithfully capture avant-garde behaviour patterns for the interest of all.
Mon devoir est de capturer fidélement les comportements avant-gardes de l'élite culterelle parisienne pour l'érudition du monde entier.
Vinyl Fever.
Jungle de Vinyl.
Vinyl Dejection.
Vinyl Déchéance.
I want this bag now.
Je veux cette sacoche immédiatement.
Follow V's finger.
Suivez le doigt de V.
Water, water, more water, yet another bottle of water, a small bottle of some unidentified substance and ... beer, yes.
Après l'eau...il y a l'espoir.
Superb.
Magnifique.
Au fond, il y a toujours des restes de cigarette.
It's an occasion...to take a picture.
C'est une occasion. Sorry
How to operate with a blown mind.
Je n'aurais pas dû boire ce qu'il y avait là dedans.
Photos de la boum orchestrée par Patrice Caillet.
Samedi 5 février à la Galerie Corentin Hamel.
Please excuse the above title, it just sounded good. There's nothing to be worried about.
Excusez moi pour ce titre ouvertement sensationnel. Il n'y a aucune raison de s'affoler. C'était just un accès de rhétorique.
I leave you to add your own comments.
Ajoutez vos propres commentaires.
My duty is to faithfully capture avant-garde behaviour patterns for the interest of all.
Mon devoir est de capturer fidélement les comportements avant-gardes de l'élite culterelle parisienne pour l'érudition du monde entier.
Vinyl Fever.
Jungle de Vinyl.
Vinyl Dejection.
Vinyl Déchéance.
I want this bag now.
Je veux cette sacoche immédiatement.
Follow V's finger.
Suivez le doigt de V.
Water, water, more water, yet another bottle of water, a small bottle of some unidentified substance and ... beer, yes.
Après l'eau...il y a l'espoir.
Superb.
Magnifique.
Au fond, il y a toujours des restes de cigarette.
It's an occasion...to take a picture.
C'est une occasion. Sorry
How to operate with a blown mind.
Je n'aurais pas dû boire ce qu'il y avait là dedans.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
January Shots
Paris Metro...love it or hate it. Sometimes it has a certain charm. Though I know certain people who find it stylistically inferior to the London Underground. I don't know how it compares to the NY subway. Views and a comparative discussion on worldwide underground railway networks welcome.
Le métro parisien...on l'aime où on le hait, mais il a un certain charme, quelquefois. Je connais certaines personnes qui le trouvent inférieur stylistiquement au métro de Londres. Vivement pour vos opinions et discussions comparatives sur les transports souterrains à travers le monde.
Hedonistic Remains. Sadly, I wasn't the one who drank it.
Restes d'Hedonisme. Malheuresement elle n'était pas à moi.
Vintage TV at an exhibition about Parisian Audiovisual media.
Télé vintage pour les amateurs de kitsch, elle était joliement exposé aussi.
I can't believe I actually took this picture, I am so ashamed.
Je ne peux pas croire que j'ai pris cette photo, je me sens coupable d'un crime impardonable.
I am so sorry I succumbed to a tourist trap. Never again. I've done it now, done the unspeakable. I feel soiled and I seek photographic redemption.
Pourrais-je être pardonné un jour pour ce pêché photographique?
Sometimes my head is in the clouds so my gaze goes there to. Hence it's not surprising if I often trip up.
Parfois ma tête est dans les nuages, quelquefois mes yeux aussi. Donc ce n'est pas surprenant que je me casse la figure souvent .
La Defense conglomorate can just be made out in the background.
Le beau monstre de La Défense est visible au fond.
Some paving rocks carefully exhibited for the enjoyment of all.
On dirait un exposition.
Clearly the missing tree must have blocked the view.
Photo prise le jour du nouvel an.
This photo very much describes how I felt on New Year's Day.
La photo qui décrivait mes émotions ce jour-là... c'est difficile de dire pourquoi.
Neon, eternal neon, will thine flame flicker forever?
Neon Neon Neon Neon Neon Neon Neon Neon, yeah baby!
My good friend Mr P. in the middle of the Wang Du's exhibit at the Palais de Tokyo.
Mon ami John parmis l'exposition de Wang Du au Palais de Tokyo.
Don't forget to check out the sensational story of my Clubbing Overkill earlier this month featuring Electrocute and Alden Tyrell amongst others.
N'oubliez pas la chronique sensationelle de mes aventures nocturnes, si vous ne l'avez déjà fait.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Photos from the "Disco-Troc"
Frenzied hands skim over boxfulls of cd's and 7" surprises
Des mains nerveuses naviguent à travers des cartons pleins de surprises.
'Gene' where are they now?
'Gene' où sont ils passés?
I rarely miss an opportunity to shoot a glitter-ball
Je ne manque jamais l'opportunité de photographier des boules à disco.
The "Clubbing Double Overkill" feature is still available below. Scroll down, you know you want to.
La chronique "Clubbing Overdose" est toujours là. Descendez, allez vous savez que vous en avez besoin.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Nitelife Double Bill
Clubbing Overkill
7 – 9th January 2005 (Triptyque, Paris)
Fiasco System: Dexter, Alden Tyrell, La Veuve Electro, Eva Revox
Cela n’était pas censé arriver. J’avais oublié complètement que les soirées Fiasco System et Chiennes Hi Fi se dérouleraient le même week-end. Il n’était pas question que j’en rate une. J’allais aux deux soirées et rien ne me retiendrait.
Fiasco System est organisé par le deejay masqué : Eva Revox (cliquez ici pour la chronique sur un autre Fiasco System avec Modeselektor et al). Cette fois c’était le tour à Dexter, Alden Tyrell et La Veuve Electro de faire sortir le jus des machines. Eva Revox assura un warm up abrasif avec une electro cisaillé (mention notoire pour « Paris Hilton » de Mu). La foule était assez typique du Triptyque, un peu trop de fashionistas vacants aux crêtes Toni & Guy et chaussures Diesel. Tout de même la musique compensait généreusement.
Des claviers et machines, une partie recouverte par un voile blanc, monopolisaient la scène. Les roses attachés au microphone paraissaient pousser naturellement au fond de cette boîte parisienne. Une ombre funeste sortait de derrière l’écran de projection. C’était la Veuve Electro. Sa musique était une goth-tech jouissive mais au fond hermétique. Ses paroles noyées par des effets survolaient des nappes synthétiques acidulés et effervescentes comme des esprits damnés. Les seules fois où il se fit comprendre furent quand il demanda si quelqu’un voulait « vérifier son paquet » et pour « octroyer son cul ». Avec de tels propos ce n’est pas surprenant qu’il ne perde pas de temps pour se mettre à poil.
Les machines recouvertes étaient reservés pour les membres du clan de Clone, le label d’electro(disco) polaire. Alden Tyrell décolla avec des séquences de synthés imparables déferlant sur des rythmes italodisco vintage (8-beat hi hats galore). Même si les basses ont crachoté un peu le set d'Alden Tyrell reste l’apogée de la soirée. Love Explosion avec ses nappes mégalos, et synthés de bolide reste toujours une bombe. Incroyable ! il l’a écrite comme une blague à I-F (fondateur de Clone). L’autre bombe était sans doute son remix capital de Radio Jolly (au sein de la Parallax Corp.) Robo-disco à souhait, tout le monde avait envie de silicone, de néon et de vocoder. Il y avait aussi ‘Disco Lunar’, ‘Knockers et ‘Welcome to Rimimi’ qui se fondent maintenant dans une seule et inéluctable image. Celle d’être conduit très vite par une femme mystérieuse dans un bolide GT sillonnant une autoroute vide, au milieu de la nuit. La lumière des lampadaires glissant par dessus le pare brises avec une aisance nacrée. Il faut dire que cette puissante image glamour est évoquée par un mec avec des pantalons baggy, une barbe et des dreads à couper le souffle. Il était accompagné de son égérie vocoderisée et Dexter qui donnait un coup de main.
Dexter (Klakson), avec seulement un i-book et un clavier, exécuta l’une des meilleures performances laptop de quelques temps et je garderai un œil sur ses sorties dorénavant. Peut être il était moins ouvertement dansant que Alden Tyrell, plutôt hypnotique et déroutant, toutefois il gardait un emprise indéniable sur le dancefloor. Sa musique nécessitait plus qu’une écoute sommaire mais alors j’étais vidé d’énergie et j’ai regagné les sièges rouges.
Voilà tout pour cette soirée, rappelez-vous que personne ne fait de la synthdisco comme les finlandais.
This should not have happened. I completely forgot that both the Fiasco System and Chiennes Hi-Fi nights were on the same weekend. There was no way I was going to drop one out of my clubbing schedule. I had to go to both and nothing would stop me, not even myself.
Fiasco System is organised by a masked deejay called Eva Revox (click here for a review of the previous Fiasco System with Modeselektor et al). This time round it was Dexter, Alden Tyrell and La Veuve Electro who provided the live electronics. Eva Revox played out some fine records (notable mention: “Paris Hilton” by Mu) though the mixing was a little rough. The crowd was your typical Triptyque lot, too many vacuous and fucking clueless fashionistas with Parisian Hoxton fins and asymmetric fringes galore. Thankfully, the music largely offset the dreary punters.
Machines and keyboards, some covered ominously with a white cloth, filled the stage. The roses attached to the microphone looked as if they were growing from it. A dark figure covered by an embroidered veil emerged from behind the projection screen, and it soon became apparent that it was a man. La Veuve Electro had arrived. His sound is a rather idiosyncratic form of hi-camp gothtech. The vocals, drowned in swelling effects, glide over the harsh sounding buzz saw synths and tough beats like some forsaken ghouls. The only times when he makes himself intelligible is to ask if someone wanted to check his ‘packet’ and whether anyone claimed his ass. A strong point of his show was that you could see how he controlled the performance at the turn of knob or at the glide of his finger on an effects pad – it really felt live. You also have to give it to the guy, he had stage presence to boot. In the twenty or so photos I took of him, his facial expression didn’t change one bit. What I wasn’t so hot on was the, at various points, rather ostensible use of effects.
Those machines covered up in the white cloth were reserved for the Clone gang. Alden Tyrell (Clone) took off straight after La Veuve Electro. Despite a couple of bass line arpeggiations that overloaded the speakers a little (but hey we like it crunchy), his set was arguably the pinnacle of the night. I came to see him specifically and I was not disappointed. Furthermore, the man put me in a good mood even though he and his acolytes were bastard hard to photograph. “Love Explosion” and his Parallax Corp. remix of Jolly Music’s “Radio Jolly” were the instantly recognisable. I can’t believe that he wrote the first as joke to I-F and that the second still sounds so bombastic and just damn synthetic. I think I also recognised ‘Disco Lunar’, ‘Knockers’ and ‘Welcome to Rimimi’. However to tell you the truth, now it all melts together into an image of being driven fast in a spacious sports car with a GT denomination by a mysterious woman on a deserted three lane motorway to nowhere and the night lights skimming over the surface of windscreen in widescreen.
7 – 9th January 2005 (Triptyque, Paris)
Fiasco System: Dexter, Alden Tyrell, La Veuve Electro, Eva Revox
Cela n’était pas censé arriver. J’avais oublié complètement que les soirées Fiasco System et Chiennes Hi Fi se dérouleraient le même week-end. Il n’était pas question que j’en rate une. J’allais aux deux soirées et rien ne me retiendrait.
Fiasco System est organisé par le deejay masqué : Eva Revox (cliquez ici pour la chronique sur un autre Fiasco System avec Modeselektor et al). Cette fois c’était le tour à Dexter, Alden Tyrell et La Veuve Electro de faire sortir le jus des machines. Eva Revox assura un warm up abrasif avec une electro cisaillé (mention notoire pour « Paris Hilton » de Mu). La foule était assez typique du Triptyque, un peu trop de fashionistas vacants aux crêtes Toni & Guy et chaussures Diesel. Tout de même la musique compensait généreusement.
Des claviers et machines, une partie recouverte par un voile blanc, monopolisaient la scène. Les roses attachés au microphone paraissaient pousser naturellement au fond de cette boîte parisienne. Une ombre funeste sortait de derrière l’écran de projection. C’était la Veuve Electro. Sa musique était une goth-tech jouissive mais au fond hermétique. Ses paroles noyées par des effets survolaient des nappes synthétiques acidulés et effervescentes comme des esprits damnés. Les seules fois où il se fit comprendre furent quand il demanda si quelqu’un voulait « vérifier son paquet » et pour « octroyer son cul ». Avec de tels propos ce n’est pas surprenant qu’il ne perde pas de temps pour se mettre à poil.
Les machines recouvertes étaient reservés pour les membres du clan de Clone, le label d’electro(disco) polaire. Alden Tyrell décolla avec des séquences de synthés imparables déferlant sur des rythmes italodisco vintage (8-beat hi hats galore). Même si les basses ont crachoté un peu le set d'Alden Tyrell reste l’apogée de la soirée. Love Explosion avec ses nappes mégalos, et synthés de bolide reste toujours une bombe. Incroyable ! il l’a écrite comme une blague à I-F (fondateur de Clone). L’autre bombe était sans doute son remix capital de Radio Jolly (au sein de la Parallax Corp.) Robo-disco à souhait, tout le monde avait envie de silicone, de néon et de vocoder. Il y avait aussi ‘Disco Lunar’, ‘Knockers et ‘Welcome to Rimimi’ qui se fondent maintenant dans une seule et inéluctable image. Celle d’être conduit très vite par une femme mystérieuse dans un bolide GT sillonnant une autoroute vide, au milieu de la nuit. La lumière des lampadaires glissant par dessus le pare brises avec une aisance nacrée. Il faut dire que cette puissante image glamour est évoquée par un mec avec des pantalons baggy, une barbe et des dreads à couper le souffle. Il était accompagné de son égérie vocoderisée et Dexter qui donnait un coup de main.
Dexter (Klakson), avec seulement un i-book et un clavier, exécuta l’une des meilleures performances laptop de quelques temps et je garderai un œil sur ses sorties dorénavant. Peut être il était moins ouvertement dansant que Alden Tyrell, plutôt hypnotique et déroutant, toutefois il gardait un emprise indéniable sur le dancefloor. Sa musique nécessitait plus qu’une écoute sommaire mais alors j’étais vidé d’énergie et j’ai regagné les sièges rouges.
Voilà tout pour cette soirée, rappelez-vous que personne ne fait de la synthdisco comme les finlandais.
This should not have happened. I completely forgot that both the Fiasco System and Chiennes Hi-Fi nights were on the same weekend. There was no way I was going to drop one out of my clubbing schedule. I had to go to both and nothing would stop me, not even myself.
Fiasco System is organised by a masked deejay called Eva Revox (click here for a review of the previous Fiasco System with Modeselektor et al). This time round it was Dexter, Alden Tyrell and La Veuve Electro who provided the live electronics. Eva Revox played out some fine records (notable mention: “Paris Hilton” by Mu) though the mixing was a little rough. The crowd was your typical Triptyque lot, too many vacuous and fucking clueless fashionistas with Parisian Hoxton fins and asymmetric fringes galore. Thankfully, the music largely offset the dreary punters.
Machines and keyboards, some covered ominously with a white cloth, filled the stage. The roses attached to the microphone looked as if they were growing from it. A dark figure covered by an embroidered veil emerged from behind the projection screen, and it soon became apparent that it was a man. La Veuve Electro had arrived. His sound is a rather idiosyncratic form of hi-camp gothtech. The vocals, drowned in swelling effects, glide over the harsh sounding buzz saw synths and tough beats like some forsaken ghouls. The only times when he makes himself intelligible is to ask if someone wanted to check his ‘packet’ and whether anyone claimed his ass. A strong point of his show was that you could see how he controlled the performance at the turn of knob or at the glide of his finger on an effects pad – it really felt live. You also have to give it to the guy, he had stage presence to boot. In the twenty or so photos I took of him, his facial expression didn’t change one bit. What I wasn’t so hot on was the, at various points, rather ostensible use of effects.
Those machines covered up in the white cloth were reserved for the Clone gang. Alden Tyrell (Clone) took off straight after La Veuve Electro. Despite a couple of bass line arpeggiations that overloaded the speakers a little (but hey we like it crunchy), his set was arguably the pinnacle of the night. I came to see him specifically and I was not disappointed. Furthermore, the man put me in a good mood even though he and his acolytes were bastard hard to photograph. “Love Explosion” and his Parallax Corp. remix of Jolly Music’s “Radio Jolly” were the instantly recognisable. I can’t believe that he wrote the first as joke to I-F and that the second still sounds so bombastic and just damn synthetic. I think I also recognised ‘Disco Lunar’, ‘Knockers’ and ‘Welcome to Rimimi’. However to tell you the truth, now it all melts together into an image of being driven fast in a spacious sports car with a GT denomination by a mysterious woman on a deserted three lane motorway to nowhere and the night lights skimming over the surface of windscreen in widescreen.
What is most fascinating is that the man who evokes this glamorama image in my head was wearing a loose t-shirt and had some fine dreadlocks instead of a pretentious hairdo. Along with him, there was the cute vocoder muse (though I feel she was also more than just that) and Dexter lending a hand now and again.
Dexter (Klakson), with only an i-book and plug-in keyboard, gave in my opinion one of the best machine sets I’ve heard in quite some time and I’ll certainly be watching out for his releases in the future. May be less overtly disco than Alden Tyrell he was trippier but still retained a full dancefloor smack, no compromise in that respect. Sadly, though his stuff deserved more than just a cursory listen and shuffle, I was a little worn out, funny how trials and tribulations can still get to you even when you’re having fun.
So that was it for the Fiasco night, no one makes synthdisco like the Finnish.
Chiennes Hi Fi: Electrocute, Chloe, Putafranges
Je m’approchais du vestiaire quand le mec derrière le comptoir me regarda avec un sourire surpris et me salua, « Re-bonsoir ». Une autre soirée, une autre nuit. Chiennes Hi Fi est une soirée indispensable ‘d’electro au féminin’ organisée par les Putafranges (je crois) - un collectif de dj’s. La foule avait reçu une dose revitalisante de gays, lesbiennes et de teenyboppers qui gardaient leurs pouces dans leurs bouches tout en dansant.
La Putafrange pour cette nuit là joua un warm up superbe. D’accord, elle laissa tomber la cellule mais sa sélection était une promenade dans un bois obscur et mystérieux où l’on voulait se perdre. Ce sentiment de désorientation volontaire est ce qui désigne pour moi un bon dj set. (En fait c’est peut être elle qui a joué Paris Hilton du Mu, ou la face B ‘We Love Boys Called Luke’ qui me rappelle d’une histoire triste).
La scène était débarrassée des machines de la soirée antérieure pour faire de la place pour Electrocute. En arrivant, Nicole alla brancher sa Fender Mustang aquamarine pendant que Holly ranimait son synthé.
Elles ont joué pour toutes les humeurs et toutes les saisons ; combinant des guitares en vrille et des synthés visqueux sous des rafales de paroles et refrains puériles et lubriques à souhait mais tendres aussi. Nicole modifia sa voix pour s’adresser à tout le monde, changeant son ton et adoptant un faux accent parisien, elle ressemblait une transsexuelle de salon. Quand ses doigts n’en pouvaient plus de martyriser son clavier monophonique, Holly jouait avec sa langue. Pour certaines chansons, elles abandonnaient leurs instruments et se laissaient aller sur les pistes pré enregistrées. Elles balançaient des routines de danse, la foule en raffolait. Les bras remuaient autant que les chevilles et les filles sur scène poussait le délire autant que les gens sur le dancefloor. Il n’y avait plus de temps pour rester beau, tout le monde voulait se souiller et se souler sur des doses héroïques d’electro-rock. Holly et Nicole s’en prirent aux spectateurs à plusieurs reprises. Holly se servait de sa ceinture pendant que Nicole lançait de l’eau et distribuait de l’alcool dur aux premières lignes. Vêtues d’uniformes blancs et verts customisés, elles n’hésitaient à courir dans la foule, gravir les enceintes ou la console du dj…c’était impensable de rester impaisible devant leur talent indéniable et ce fracas glorieux.
Quand elles sont parties, une boucle vocale énonçait sinistrement leur nom jusqu'à ce que le mot perdit son sens terrifiant (j’ai inséré une paire de ciseaux dans une prise quand j’avais sept ans) et devenait un amalgame ‘d’Electro’ et ‘cute’. Mouillé, battu, lacéré et usé, j’ai regagné les sièges rouges pour visionner les photos que j’avais prises.
Chloé prit alors contrôle du crossfader et des platines qu’Electrocute avaient dansé sur avec autant de plaisir. Elle portait un polo Fred Perry et affichait une coupe subtile. Comme avec Alden Tyrell ne vous fiez pas aux apparences.
Le set de Choé était comme manger du « turrón de yema » (un dessert d’origine espagnole). Le plaisir n’était pas immédiat mais plutôt précédé par un sentiment d’anticipation et de mystère. Des cowbell-folies coulaient dans des synthés stratosphériques avec une aisance inouïe. La foule se sentait guidée vers un mouvement inexorable et grandissant - un assaut des sens et de la colonne vertébrale
Peut être, c’était un peu trop dur à la fin, mais j’ai rarement dansé autant et dans ma tête vide je me rappellais de ce que Nine avait dit dans son fanzine : « Ne pas craindre ta sueur ni la sueur de ton prochain ».
As I approached the cloakroom, the guy behind the desk gave me a bemused smirk and said: “Re-bonsoir”. Another night, same place, thankfully a different crowd. Chiennes Hi Fi* is an indispensable female electro night run by the damn dependable Putafranges* (I presume). The crowd this time round had received a much welcome dose of bisexuals, lesbians, gays and dummied teenyboppers. That helped to make this night a bomb.
The Putafrange for the night (Benedicte) played a brilliant warm up set. Ok, she dropped the needle at one point but her selection was a ride into the pleasurably obscure and subtle and that for me is what separates the wheat from the chaff. (Actually she may have played Mu’s ‘Paris Hilton’ too… or may be the B-Side ‘We Love Boys Called Luke’ which reminds me of a sad story…oh dear)
The machines from the previous night had been cleared away to make way for the arrival of the rowdy Berlin duo: Electrocute. Nicole went over to plug in her aquamarine Mustang electric whilst Holly coaxed her bass synth and sampler into life.
They played for all moods and seasons; laying down woozy guitars and squiggle synths under rapid-fire verse-choruses of mischief, lust but tenderness too. Nicole pitch-shifted her voice and affected a Parisian accent to greet the punters, sounding like a chic she-male. When her fingers got tired, Holly played the keyboard with her tongue whilst triggering crazy shapes from the sampler pads. For some songs, they would ditch their instruments altogether, glide over playback and start up some impromptu dance routines. Arms swung as much as hips and the stars on stage thrashed and lashed as much as the crowd in front. There was little time for posing around. The girls reprimanded the crowd on several occasions and when that wasn’t enough Holly unclasped her belt and began whipping the frontlines. Decked out in green and white customised uniforms, standing over monitor speakers and turntables, pushing each other around, running into the crowd as far as the microphone cables would let them… it was impossible not to be won over by their musical prowess and onstage fracas.
When they left, an eerie vocal loop uttering the band’s name was left on until the word lost its terrifying import (I inserted a pair scissors into an unearthed plug when I was 7) and became and amalgam of ‘Electro’ and ‘cute’. Sprayed, whipped, beaten and used, I retreated to some comfortable seating to review the photographs I had taken that night.
Next up, Chloe took over the turntables that Electrocute had been standing over with so much glee. She was wearing a Fred Perry polo-neck and sported a low-key hair do. Like with Alden Tyrell, don’t allow yourself to be deceived by appearance, I thoroughly approve her demure attire.
Chloe’s set was like eating “turrón de yema” (a delicacy of Spanish origin). Namely, enjoyment was not immediately forthcoming but rather preceded by an engaging sense of mystery and anticipation. Cowbell frenzies melted into stratospheric chords with crossfader ease. The dancefloor found itself in an inexorable shuffle, swelling as the night wore on to a full body popping assault of lock-grooves and slipped discs. People jived and dry-humped speaker stacks or each other.
May be it all got a little too harsh at the end, but I’ve rarely danced so much and in my empty mind and all I could think about was what Nine had said in her fanzine: “Ne pas craindre ta sueur ni la sueur de ton prochain”*.
*’Chiennes Hi Fi’ = Hi Fi Bitches, a play on words on Chaînes Hi Fi (Hi Fi Set)
*’Putafrange’, roughly translates as “whore-with-a-fringe”
* rougly translates as “Do not dread your own or anyone else’s sweat” – Nine, “Rock This Way” 2004
Epilog
9th Jan – 6.00 a.m
Dehors il ne faisait plus froid. J’étais toujours sous l’emprise de la nuit même l’aube inévitable était près. Je me suis éloigné du Triptyque, en traversant la rue et passant par devant un hôtel. « Attend, vaut mieux que je regarde leurs prix », je me suis dit. Après avoir consulté leur liste, j’allais partir mais quelque chose à rencontré ma vue.
Holly était assise toute seule dans les tons funestes de la réception de l’hôtel. Le réceptionniste barbu regardait les murs. Cette scène aurait pu être tirée de Lost In Translation, realisée par David Lynch et peinte par Edward Hopper. C’était quelque chose de si cinématique, que je restais là hypnotisé. J’avais mon appareil photo en main, mais je n’ai pas pris une seule photo. Ce que j’ai fait c’est lui faire signe que je voulais lui montrer les photos de leur concert. Holly acquiesça et demanda au réceptionniste de me laisser entrer. Je franchis le seuil des portes coulissantes, elles s’ouvrirent et se refermèrent après moi. J’étais là en train de regarder le feuillage de rêve des plantes en plastique, j’étais maintenant dans le cadre.
Dès les premières photos Holly devint très excité, exprimant son appréciation et me faisant promettre que j’allais leur envoyer des copies. Nous regagnâmes des sièges plus moelleux avec quelques bières. Après avoir échangé de versions feuilleton de nos vies, Holly me parla de quelques amis que j’avais vu en concert au cours de ces derniers mois : Tok Tok, Soffy O et Cobra Killer. Ensuite nous avons parlé de l’art délicat de jouer sur du playback, l’apprentissage de langues européenes, pourquoi les Chicks On Speed avaient merdé et finalement sur les synthés.
J’ai mentionné ma brève flirtation avec un Korg MS 2000 que j’ai du quitter parce que je mourrais de faim. Holly avoua son premier amour avec un Juno 106 et parla avec affection du son des DCO. Elle avait aussi un sampleur et un Novation Bass Station. Ce dernier avait une touche qui ne marchait pas à cause d’un mec de PR aux doigts faciles. Nous parlâmes et fumâmes pendant un certain temps, avant que je ne rentre chez moi.
Après avoir franchi les barrières du Métro, j’ai vu un groupe de personnes en uniforme autour d’un corps inerte allongé par terre. L’une d’elles s’était agenouillé et examinait la tête. Une autre se tenait à l’écart et remplissait machinalement un formulaire. J’avançais vers la plateforme.
Quand le train était sorti du tunnel, le soleil blanchâtre remplissait brutalement le matin frais.
Outside, it wasn’t cold, merely chilly. I was still under the spell of the night and the impending morning hadn’t dawned yet. I walked away from the Triptyque, crossed a street and passed a hotel. ‘Hang on, better check out their prices’, I told myself. After having perused their room rates, I walked away but someone inside had unwittingly caught my departing gaze. I hastily retraced my steps to look through the glass.
Holly from Electrocute was sitting alone in the lifeless shades of the hotel lobby. The bearded receptionist was looking at the empty walls beyond his desk. The scene could have been taken from Lost In Translation, directed by David Lynch and painted by Edward Hopper. It was so cinematic that I stood there struck by its imperturbable nature. I was holding my camera at the time, but I didn’t take a picture. Instead, I got her attention by pointing at it to display my intention to show her the photos of their gig. Holly motioned me to come in. I moved through the glass doors. They opened and then shut. I stood there, looking at the fake foliage of the plastic flora on my left. Now I was inside the scene.
From the first few shots in the preview screen, Holly became visibly excited, soon expressing her approval and asking me if I could send them to her and Nicole. We moved to some plush seating further back and Holly ordered a couple of beers. After exchanging novella versions of our lives, we talked about some of their good friends like Tok Tok, Soffy O and Cobra Killer. Then about the fine art of performing to playback, learning European languages, her detestation of Chicks on Speed and finally about synths.
I mentioned my brief fling with a Korg MS 2000 whom I’d had to leave because sadly you can’t eat silicon forever. Holly told me about her first love with a Juno 106 and spoke fondly of the DCO sound. She also had a sampler and a Novation Bass Station. The latter apparently had a broken key, which had been fixed to great expense and then broken again by a PR exec with a stray finger. We talked, drank and smoked for some time. Then Holly patted my head and bid me farewell…
As I passed the metro ticket gates with a thud and clunk, I saw some paramedics presiding over an inert body lying there on the floor. One of them was knelt down next to the head, another one stood apart filling in a form. I walked on towards the metro platform.
By the time the metro emerged from the underground, the sun was glaring through a nippy winter morning.
Dexter (Klakson), with only an i-book and plug-in keyboard, gave in my opinion one of the best machine sets I’ve heard in quite some time and I’ll certainly be watching out for his releases in the future. May be less overtly disco than Alden Tyrell he was trippier but still retained a full dancefloor smack, no compromise in that respect. Sadly, though his stuff deserved more than just a cursory listen and shuffle, I was a little worn out, funny how trials and tribulations can still get to you even when you’re having fun.
So that was it for the Fiasco night, no one makes synthdisco like the Finnish.
Chiennes Hi Fi: Electrocute, Chloe, Putafranges
Je m’approchais du vestiaire quand le mec derrière le comptoir me regarda avec un sourire surpris et me salua, « Re-bonsoir ». Une autre soirée, une autre nuit. Chiennes Hi Fi est une soirée indispensable ‘d’electro au féminin’ organisée par les Putafranges (je crois) - un collectif de dj’s. La foule avait reçu une dose revitalisante de gays, lesbiennes et de teenyboppers qui gardaient leurs pouces dans leurs bouches tout en dansant.
La Putafrange pour cette nuit là joua un warm up superbe. D’accord, elle laissa tomber la cellule mais sa sélection était une promenade dans un bois obscur et mystérieux où l’on voulait se perdre. Ce sentiment de désorientation volontaire est ce qui désigne pour moi un bon dj set. (En fait c’est peut être elle qui a joué Paris Hilton du Mu, ou la face B ‘We Love Boys Called Luke’ qui me rappelle d’une histoire triste).
La scène était débarrassée des machines de la soirée antérieure pour faire de la place pour Electrocute. En arrivant, Nicole alla brancher sa Fender Mustang aquamarine pendant que Holly ranimait son synthé.
Elles ont joué pour toutes les humeurs et toutes les saisons ; combinant des guitares en vrille et des synthés visqueux sous des rafales de paroles et refrains puériles et lubriques à souhait mais tendres aussi. Nicole modifia sa voix pour s’adresser à tout le monde, changeant son ton et adoptant un faux accent parisien, elle ressemblait une transsexuelle de salon. Quand ses doigts n’en pouvaient plus de martyriser son clavier monophonique, Holly jouait avec sa langue. Pour certaines chansons, elles abandonnaient leurs instruments et se laissaient aller sur les pistes pré enregistrées. Elles balançaient des routines de danse, la foule en raffolait. Les bras remuaient autant que les chevilles et les filles sur scène poussait le délire autant que les gens sur le dancefloor. Il n’y avait plus de temps pour rester beau, tout le monde voulait se souiller et se souler sur des doses héroïques d’electro-rock. Holly et Nicole s’en prirent aux spectateurs à plusieurs reprises. Holly se servait de sa ceinture pendant que Nicole lançait de l’eau et distribuait de l’alcool dur aux premières lignes. Vêtues d’uniformes blancs et verts customisés, elles n’hésitaient à courir dans la foule, gravir les enceintes ou la console du dj…c’était impensable de rester impaisible devant leur talent indéniable et ce fracas glorieux.
Quand elles sont parties, une boucle vocale énonçait sinistrement leur nom jusqu'à ce que le mot perdit son sens terrifiant (j’ai inséré une paire de ciseaux dans une prise quand j’avais sept ans) et devenait un amalgame ‘d’Electro’ et ‘cute’. Mouillé, battu, lacéré et usé, j’ai regagné les sièges rouges pour visionner les photos que j’avais prises.
Chloé prit alors contrôle du crossfader et des platines qu’Electrocute avaient dansé sur avec autant de plaisir. Elle portait un polo Fred Perry et affichait une coupe subtile. Comme avec Alden Tyrell ne vous fiez pas aux apparences.
Le set de Choé était comme manger du « turrón de yema » (un dessert d’origine espagnole). Le plaisir n’était pas immédiat mais plutôt précédé par un sentiment d’anticipation et de mystère. Des cowbell-folies coulaient dans des synthés stratosphériques avec une aisance inouïe. La foule se sentait guidée vers un mouvement inexorable et grandissant - un assaut des sens et de la colonne vertébrale
Peut être, c’était un peu trop dur à la fin, mais j’ai rarement dansé autant et dans ma tête vide je me rappellais de ce que Nine avait dit dans son fanzine : « Ne pas craindre ta sueur ni la sueur de ton prochain ».
As I approached the cloakroom, the guy behind the desk gave me a bemused smirk and said: “Re-bonsoir”. Another night, same place, thankfully a different crowd. Chiennes Hi Fi* is an indispensable female electro night run by the damn dependable Putafranges* (I presume). The crowd this time round had received a much welcome dose of bisexuals, lesbians, gays and dummied teenyboppers. That helped to make this night a bomb.
The Putafrange for the night (Benedicte) played a brilliant warm up set. Ok, she dropped the needle at one point but her selection was a ride into the pleasurably obscure and subtle and that for me is what separates the wheat from the chaff. (Actually she may have played Mu’s ‘Paris Hilton’ too… or may be the B-Side ‘We Love Boys Called Luke’ which reminds me of a sad story…oh dear)
The machines from the previous night had been cleared away to make way for the arrival of the rowdy Berlin duo: Electrocute. Nicole went over to plug in her aquamarine Mustang electric whilst Holly coaxed her bass synth and sampler into life.
They played for all moods and seasons; laying down woozy guitars and squiggle synths under rapid-fire verse-choruses of mischief, lust but tenderness too. Nicole pitch-shifted her voice and affected a Parisian accent to greet the punters, sounding like a chic she-male. When her fingers got tired, Holly played the keyboard with her tongue whilst triggering crazy shapes from the sampler pads. For some songs, they would ditch their instruments altogether, glide over playback and start up some impromptu dance routines. Arms swung as much as hips and the stars on stage thrashed and lashed as much as the crowd in front. There was little time for posing around. The girls reprimanded the crowd on several occasions and when that wasn’t enough Holly unclasped her belt and began whipping the frontlines. Decked out in green and white customised uniforms, standing over monitor speakers and turntables, pushing each other around, running into the crowd as far as the microphone cables would let them… it was impossible not to be won over by their musical prowess and onstage fracas.
When they left, an eerie vocal loop uttering the band’s name was left on until the word lost its terrifying import (I inserted a pair scissors into an unearthed plug when I was 7) and became and amalgam of ‘Electro’ and ‘cute’. Sprayed, whipped, beaten and used, I retreated to some comfortable seating to review the photographs I had taken that night.
Next up, Chloe took over the turntables that Electrocute had been standing over with so much glee. She was wearing a Fred Perry polo-neck and sported a low-key hair do. Like with Alden Tyrell, don’t allow yourself to be deceived by appearance, I thoroughly approve her demure attire.
Chloe’s set was like eating “turrón de yema” (a delicacy of Spanish origin). Namely, enjoyment was not immediately forthcoming but rather preceded by an engaging sense of mystery and anticipation. Cowbell frenzies melted into stratospheric chords with crossfader ease. The dancefloor found itself in an inexorable shuffle, swelling as the night wore on to a full body popping assault of lock-grooves and slipped discs. People jived and dry-humped speaker stacks or each other.
May be it all got a little too harsh at the end, but I’ve rarely danced so much and in my empty mind and all I could think about was what Nine had said in her fanzine: “Ne pas craindre ta sueur ni la sueur de ton prochain”*.
*’Chiennes Hi Fi’ = Hi Fi Bitches, a play on words on Chaînes Hi Fi (Hi Fi Set)
*’Putafrange’, roughly translates as “whore-with-a-fringe”
* rougly translates as “Do not dread your own or anyone else’s sweat” – Nine, “Rock This Way” 2004
Epilog
9th Jan – 6.00 a.m
Dehors il ne faisait plus froid. J’étais toujours sous l’emprise de la nuit même l’aube inévitable était près. Je me suis éloigné du Triptyque, en traversant la rue et passant par devant un hôtel. « Attend, vaut mieux que je regarde leurs prix », je me suis dit. Après avoir consulté leur liste, j’allais partir mais quelque chose à rencontré ma vue.
Holly était assise toute seule dans les tons funestes de la réception de l’hôtel. Le réceptionniste barbu regardait les murs. Cette scène aurait pu être tirée de Lost In Translation, realisée par David Lynch et peinte par Edward Hopper. C’était quelque chose de si cinématique, que je restais là hypnotisé. J’avais mon appareil photo en main, mais je n’ai pas pris une seule photo. Ce que j’ai fait c’est lui faire signe que je voulais lui montrer les photos de leur concert. Holly acquiesça et demanda au réceptionniste de me laisser entrer. Je franchis le seuil des portes coulissantes, elles s’ouvrirent et se refermèrent après moi. J’étais là en train de regarder le feuillage de rêve des plantes en plastique, j’étais maintenant dans le cadre.
Dès les premières photos Holly devint très excité, exprimant son appréciation et me faisant promettre que j’allais leur envoyer des copies. Nous regagnâmes des sièges plus moelleux avec quelques bières. Après avoir échangé de versions feuilleton de nos vies, Holly me parla de quelques amis que j’avais vu en concert au cours de ces derniers mois : Tok Tok, Soffy O et Cobra Killer. Ensuite nous avons parlé de l’art délicat de jouer sur du playback, l’apprentissage de langues européenes, pourquoi les Chicks On Speed avaient merdé et finalement sur les synthés.
J’ai mentionné ma brève flirtation avec un Korg MS 2000 que j’ai du quitter parce que je mourrais de faim. Holly avoua son premier amour avec un Juno 106 et parla avec affection du son des DCO. Elle avait aussi un sampleur et un Novation Bass Station. Ce dernier avait une touche qui ne marchait pas à cause d’un mec de PR aux doigts faciles. Nous parlâmes et fumâmes pendant un certain temps, avant que je ne rentre chez moi.
Après avoir franchi les barrières du Métro, j’ai vu un groupe de personnes en uniforme autour d’un corps inerte allongé par terre. L’une d’elles s’était agenouillé et examinait la tête. Une autre se tenait à l’écart et remplissait machinalement un formulaire. J’avançais vers la plateforme.
Quand le train était sorti du tunnel, le soleil blanchâtre remplissait brutalement le matin frais.
Outside, it wasn’t cold, merely chilly. I was still under the spell of the night and the impending morning hadn’t dawned yet. I walked away from the Triptyque, crossed a street and passed a hotel. ‘Hang on, better check out their prices’, I told myself. After having perused their room rates, I walked away but someone inside had unwittingly caught my departing gaze. I hastily retraced my steps to look through the glass.
Holly from Electrocute was sitting alone in the lifeless shades of the hotel lobby. The bearded receptionist was looking at the empty walls beyond his desk. The scene could have been taken from Lost In Translation, directed by David Lynch and painted by Edward Hopper. It was so cinematic that I stood there struck by its imperturbable nature. I was holding my camera at the time, but I didn’t take a picture. Instead, I got her attention by pointing at it to display my intention to show her the photos of their gig. Holly motioned me to come in. I moved through the glass doors. They opened and then shut. I stood there, looking at the fake foliage of the plastic flora on my left. Now I was inside the scene.
From the first few shots in the preview screen, Holly became visibly excited, soon expressing her approval and asking me if I could send them to her and Nicole. We moved to some plush seating further back and Holly ordered a couple of beers. After exchanging novella versions of our lives, we talked about some of their good friends like Tok Tok, Soffy O and Cobra Killer. Then about the fine art of performing to playback, learning European languages, her detestation of Chicks on Speed and finally about synths.
I mentioned my brief fling with a Korg MS 2000 whom I’d had to leave because sadly you can’t eat silicon forever. Holly told me about her first love with a Juno 106 and spoke fondly of the DCO sound. She also had a sampler and a Novation Bass Station. The latter apparently had a broken key, which had been fixed to great expense and then broken again by a PR exec with a stray finger. We talked, drank and smoked for some time. Then Holly patted my head and bid me farewell…
As I passed the metro ticket gates with a thud and clunk, I saw some paramedics presiding over an inert body lying there on the floor. One of them was knelt down next to the head, another one stood apart filling in a form. I walked on towards the metro platform.
By the time the metro emerged from the underground, the sun was glaring through a nippy winter morning.
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