My first thrill in music and as a
singer was the first rehearsal with my first band (and most of those which have
come afterwards.
It is such an incredible sensation to realize that it is possible, within
reach, to make something by oneself and with other people, creating together
and realizing how much pleasure it gives. Creating a music piece, working it
and progressing. You want to do it so do it ! Because since the beginning we
have been alternating compositions with creations on a collective principle,
this collective feeling of the work on march and the joy and euphoria that it
gives (whatever the quality is ) has no
equivalent for me, except the fact of playing on stage ,which is another
dimension , of course.
My first concert took place on June
15 1981, without I remember how we, a small and a little bit rustic band, not
to say slob, in any case we didn't belong to trendy bands and Lyon's night
birds were able to end up in this very specialized evening performance. Perhaps
they needed a rookie, a new band for the consistency of the stage ? Or for a very simple reason : The choice
excessively limited among local bands.
This time it is serious, we have
previously presented our set at the premises in front of a part of our buddies
, now we could call that a set up rehearsal but now it is not at all the same
dimension, even if seeing their faces and listening to their advice (among them
the future members of Gestalt, friends from the Lacassagne High School) we
realize that we have worked well and enormously progressed.
Svastikas sous influence, Devo-suicide and their two drummers , Premi̬re Ligne Рgrand son of Joy Division and Bunker Family Post Punk (with in particular Gogol the first Iroquese in Lyon)attend this performance.
Svastikas sous influence, Devo-suicide and their two drummers , Premi̬re Ligne Рgrand son of Joy Division and Bunker Family Post Punk (with in particular Gogol the first Iroquese in Lyon)attend this performance.
I particularly remember that as
strange as it seems I do not feel too much put under stress by this approaching
date, but rather excited and even almost serene. And suddenly in the morning of
the concert a phenomenal stage fright falls up on me, something enormous which
is not going to leave me all day long, which strangely colours the performance
of a purple and blood color and which shakes my body with a sort of nervous
breakdown, more or less under control. While the first band plays, I go round
in circles, a magnificent imitation of a lion in a zoo but also of a whirling
dervish or a neurotic prisoner or of a
idle young child, there is only to suggest, I spin round and round using
the ground with my bare feet, stand up to take something out of my bag then put
it away. I do everything and the opposite but nothing calms me down. My body
needs to be busy to take my mind off and avoid overheating.Thus I walk at the
bottom of the stage, go out to take a breath of fresh air, acting the small
land surveyor, the mini cyclone, the one you prefer not to meet. I am worse
than the « Ankou », a damned Nosferatu in my grey jacket, the collar
of which I have pulled up and its buttons closed to the top. You should not
speak to me . « Too much stress for the neighbourhood ».
As for the rest my short -sighted side and the fact that I remove my glasses as soon as the spectator arrives – give the constraints f my look – helps me to stay in my electric bubble . But that is going to be our turn. I take my shoes off, victim of something which looks like the ovine rapie, next to the wooden staircase which goes up to the stage, turning my back towards the spectactors I wrap my face of strips and put on my child knitted hat ( a very blue hat) which for an unknown reason still fits me.The fact of being masked is a real crutch wich supports me when I go on stage. Jean-Louis, the guitarist, connects his guitar, the sound of the flanger swirls in the room as an asthmatic wave and the first notes dance in the air. Then, the bass drum and the bass comes, throwing me uppecuts in the stomach, with their muffled , deep and tangible vibe, I turn back,my body is floating and light and go at the rough guess to my mic stand. On the right, in the vagueness, I see that Franck, the drummer, is wearing his white mask, Pierre Yves is also in his place but sat on a chair because of an appendectomy the day before, being consequently deprived of small jack knives and swaying hips in his usual way.
As for the rest my short -sighted side and the fact that I remove my glasses as soon as the spectator arrives – give the constraints f my look – helps me to stay in my electric bubble . But that is going to be our turn. I take my shoes off, victim of something which looks like the ovine rapie, next to the wooden staircase which goes up to the stage, turning my back towards the spectactors I wrap my face of strips and put on my child knitted hat ( a very blue hat) which for an unknown reason still fits me.The fact of being masked is a real crutch wich supports me when I go on stage. Jean-Louis, the guitarist, connects his guitar, the sound of the flanger swirls in the room as an asthmatic wave and the first notes dance in the air. Then, the bass drum and the bass comes, throwing me uppecuts in the stomach, with their muffled , deep and tangible vibe, I turn back,my body is floating and light and go at the rough guess to my mic stand. On the right, in the vagueness, I see that Franck, the drummer, is wearing his white mask, Pierre Yves is also in his place but sat on a chair because of an appendectomy the day before, being consequently deprived of small jack knives and swaying hips in his usual way.
I am blinded and snapped up by the
lights, a white and toned-down light ! An intense heat and the noise as an itch
in my inner ear, thousands of suns dazzle me, everything becomes red when I
approach? I stare at them for one moment, a too long moment and suddenly I see
small fireflies sparkling around me, around my lashes as small portable
fireworks. I stop myself falling down from the stage and hangs on to my crutch,
my centre. It is a metal and plastic shift cold to the touch. It looks like a
sort of scepter, urban totem. I prevent my mind from leaving too far and in a
neutral and a little tremulous voice at
first, then which asserts itself I start singing.I feel that I blush under my
strips and close my eyes to forget that my mouth is so pasty and dry. But I
sing, forgetting the sound of the crackling and shrill floor monitors. I sing
and climb the road step by step. My body is overcome with a mechanical movement
as a machine, beginning with my feet, in a rythm independent from the bass
drum, I accidentally tune into it and do not leave it anymore. I stir at the
beat of the music in a more or less well ordered movement. It could seem that I
danceIn any case on the left-hand side, the right-hand one is as stiffened.
Maybe I am not so ridiculous, I
produce something as I want, clumsy, a little awkward but maybe a little bit
poetic, something I believe in.Deeply and I do not give a hoat of people's
opinion, I follow my course forward, music piece after music piece. Nevertheless
at one moment during the concert my brain decides to evaporate, to fly away, to
escape and yet I Continue with my general mess.
I sing and dance as if I were
wrapped by the music. And then I go back into my body. The intensity of the
suns around me decrease by moments, I get used and perceive a little better the people in front
of the stage. for one moment I enjoy being able to watch them behind my mask
while singing. I am in astrange state of mind, an extreme and incomparable
nervosity and at the same time I am filled with this concentration and intense
acuteness which enables me to « make it ».
We have been working well on our
trick, so we play it a little in the Ramone's way , one three four till the
end, we play, we play . I am not sure that I have said a word between the music
pieces - just satisfied with being clung to this micstand and with staying
there – or certainly the name of the pieces in a set and a little bit
hesitating voice. Sometimes my body recognizes a friendly feeling :the uneasiness
of shy people .
I would prefer at this moment to kiss the girl in the front row , everything, but not to be there. But, fortunately, the following piece comes and I go back into the uterine music.
I would prefer at this moment to kiss the girl in the front row , everything, but not to be there. But, fortunately, the following piece comes and I go back into the uterine music.
At some moments I realize where I am
and what I am doing and to what extent it can look curious and ridiculous. I
look at the list of pieces at my feet but it is impossible to know where we
stand and I can't see that much.Fortunately Jean-Louis ,as stressed as I am,
moves on with the following piece an I go back to the bathyscaphe. Of course,
the buddies are here, just in front, to support us, but also people that I
don't know in front of the stage but I must admit that most of the time I just
see a colored and shapeless mass mixed with the spots. I hear them reacting
between the pieces and it is surprising and galvanizing. That feeds my soul and
makes me stronger, on stage I sometimes feel invincible. I finish the concert
on a cocked up-doe job after a musical crescendo and we leave the stage in a
vaporous cloud of adrenaline and amphetamine.
We need to spend a moment weightless before landing up but we feel
proud because we did it and we discover the wonderful after-concert sensation,
this moment of downcoming between excitement and exhaustion which can only be
compared with the moment following love making with the woman we love and
desire.
We are proud to be - for an evening at least - not just in front of the
stage but on stage and that's something phenomenal which can't be explained to
anybody.
Here we are, we can play with the big guys on the block, the doers. We
belong– at our modest level – to the same championship without being in the
same division as the Anglo- Saxon bands
which carry us away, at least we are connected with them through music. We have
moved on from fans to ... musicians, and at that moment, whatever may happen,
we are the Kings of the World.
Categories:
DUSK MEMORIES
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