So here we are at the fête de la musique

ha! what an evening! If I didn't know better I'd say I were completely fucked.

The fête de la musique was created in 1981 by then Culture Minister Jack Lang. The concept is pretty simple: every 21st of June, the streets of France belong to music - pro, amateur and in any style- allowing the French to soak up music the longest day of the year.

Over the years, there have been good ones and bad ones, though that is entirely down to the individual. The format of the fête has hardly changed since it's creation, though some people such as me believe that it is slightly less "free" than it used to be, i.e. slightly better organised, with bands for example in Paris now having to ask permission to play in their spot whereas it used to be that musicians would just pitch up wherever.

When we were younger, my mates and I would always go and see our friends who played in bands, usually one in particular at St Michel, in the heart of the Latin quarter. One memorable year I did the chorus on their take on the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Aeroplane. Most years, most of the night would be spent on the phone trying to get hold of people "T'es où?", "Attends, on arrive", and getting lost and failing to meet up. One has to bear in mind that in Paris at least there are about a million people (at least) roaming the streets, which is a lot of people and transfoms many areas, especially in the center, in to a real urban festival. As a consequence the best fêtes de la musique are either the ones where you improvise totally and wander calmly, or those where the organisation is perfect, and there is no impossible meeting up with people at various times.

Memorable years include: seeing Oasis live (after their only Parisian concert was cancelled) and free of course place de la République with my Marie and about a pint of vodka, the evening after the concert that included Aeroplane, where about fifteen old friends ambled around the north of Paris all night (and broke into the Montmartre gardens if I remember correctly), and others which have all blended together and I remember as long drunken musical walks with some of my best friends dancing to brass bands, metal concerts, old french chansons and whatever was waiting for us on our ramblings.

Last night was a good fête de la musique though it didn't look like it would be at first. The first rendez vous of the night was to see Furykane (see previous posts), who were taking part in a metal festival at about 5 pm. Fisrt cock-up of the night was when Marie called me and said she was just off. "Me too", I said, "shall we meet at St Michel?". "Eh?" she answered, "but it's at Nation". Okkkkkaaaayyy. This is what usually happens at three in the morning when everyone is drunk, not at teatime when the information actually comes from the guy who is playing. Calls to Axelle, who confirms St Michel. We set off, planning to meet up. Within minutes I got a phone call from Quentin: actually we're playing at Luxembourg and we start in 20 minutes. Here we go then....

Even by fête de la musique standards, where bands mushroom by the side of the road and take up pavements and bloc traffic, this was a stupid place to put up a stage. The huge truck full of equipment was blocking the bus lane and half the street, the stage was next to bus stop and blocking the pavement, and the rather small audience (all wearing black and looking sexily threatening) were the other side of the road. Busses had to crawl round the stage and people that spilled in to the street, the traffic was slowed for about a mile! Pedestrians had the choice between getting run over or basically walking across the stage, from which 500 hundred decibels of music were blaring

Luckily, there was a beer store so we were happy. Furykane played, ready for the Emergenza final on July 1st. They didn't get as much applause as other, heavier, bands, but i like their stuff, more subtle than the usual roar-and-grind-on guitar. There are five of them four guys and the singer; Quentin and Max, bassist and guitarist, are the ones I know best, having been friends with them for about ten years now.

After that about fifteen of us went to drink beer in the manucured Luxembourg gardens. The question, as always, is what now? The metal heads were off to another metal concert near Luxembourg. Marie, Axelle and I thought of the massive concert of out of town where our beloved Mika would be playing (all his concerts sell out too quickly for us ever to get to one). Gery called me and said a friend would be playing at the cutesy place Ste Marthe near my flat. Stéphane called me and asked me what was up. Marie, Axelle and I decided to leave the others, mett Stephane and try out this massive concert out of town. The only catch, besides the fact that there would be tens of thousands of people was that other than Mika, none of the other bands really tickled us: Avril Lavigne?? Christophe Maé?? Tokio Hotel?? The only solution was alcohol, lots of it.

Twenty minutes later we were in the métro at Odeon, each With a flask of 20 cl of vodka. Half an hour later, in a train full of teenage girls looking funky, we made it to Porte d'Auteil, where the huge hippodrome was converted to outdoor concert for the night. About five thousand people outside were queuing with an anarchy that can only ever be seen when the French are queuing. Everyone was being searched. Vodka flasks were concealed, Stephane went in search of beer, leaving us to queue for what we thought would be at least a couple of hours. Somewhere in the distance we could hear the concert had started. All of a sudden, the police (of which there were a lot), seemed to decide it was hopeless to search everyone, so we suddenly all went in. It was early dusk time, and the grass of the hippodrome glowed slightly, as if made radioactive by the far away sound of music and the buzz. We walked until we got to the end of the crowd, about 100 meters from the stage, near amps and a massive screen. We plomped down, Stéphane turned up out of nowhere and started drinking.

As night fell, and the alcohol sluiced through our veins, the pre-teen music became source of great amusement and Marie and I, forever bound together in the bonds of bad dancing ever since we did a terrible double act for our Baccalauréat, danced madly.


People moved off, or away, or back home as the night went on and we got wilder, and we had all the room in the world to dance, to hits from Faudel, Amel Bent, Shy'm, Avril Lavigne, David Guetta and others, and... yes Mika. We got only one song, Grace Kelly, the one will all know best, and it was the best boogie ever.

The night was light and drunken, and Marie and I danced like gorillas, under the disturbed stare of Stéphane, who is a bit of a dandy, and Axelle, who is a trained classical dancer. Soon after midnight it was time to move to the metro. We learnt a hundred thousand people had been there. And that they all wanted to take the métro at the same time as us. The stations were all shut from the overcrowding, so we walked west, away from Paris. We followed the huge wobbly crowd, peed in bushes (had been a while!), laughed stupidly. Eventually made it to a metro, all went back to the center together and somehow, all found the right lines home.

At Gare de l'Est, as hundreds of people poured out in to the night, a guy with a djembé asked if I wanted a coffee. I said I was going home, and it turned out he lives near me. We walked back by the side of the canal and then sat down for a chat. Turns out he is a non-smoking, non-drinking, very earnest, unemployed, er, djembé player who sometimes works with kids at the local maternelle. Weirdly his name is Mika. Turns out he also has been to Mali, but stayed in Bamako for a while (I meet a person a week who has been to Mali. Olivia and I thought we were rather cool to have gone. Still it turns out that nobody else had adventures like we did). We chatted for an hour I suppose and he has sent me a whole lot of blurb about this association he belongs to and helps... kids in Senegal. I'm going to put him in touch Ben and Action Culture. Chatted until three and went to have a look at a slam concert by the water, where a whole lot of hoodies gave us joints to smoke. He, being healthy, declined and ran for it. I, being me, accepted and stumbled back about three.

Aaaah, I love the fête de la musique.