Faire le Néant - ct'd
Thursday October the 17th was the day that is commonly known in France as the day of the Beaujolais Nouveau, the evening was duly celebrated at l'Europe, Rachid's pizzeria, in the company of only the bravest of men - all of them with a mission, mostly the same: becoming largely inebriated.
All of us would walk home our hearts fulfilled, this mission accomplished until the next one comes.
Rachid, wearing private David's lithuanian chapka
Friday October the 18th, now three hours ago, was the day I went to see a concert of Fred Frith, with Paolo Angeli, because not every night can be filled with booty bass. Opening for them was La Pieuvre, Grand orchestre d'improvisation placé sous la conduction d'Olivier Benoît, which are composed of 29 musicians, although there appeared to be less than that on the night, but I didn't count so I couldn't tell for sure. They were placed circularly in the middle of the room, with Olivier Benoit conducting from the center, and us the silly little audience surrounding them.
It started with a big BANG (for three minutes) and an hour later it ended with me being all happy. Not pictured, or at least not visible here, the odd socks of one of the voice-people (like boat-people but with their voice, we won't call them singers because this is improvised music, we don't do it that way sir). It was the night of the feet just as much as the night of Improv, follow the entry to know why.
Half an hour later, after the room has been entirely cleared and transformed into a amphitheater-like venue (the celerity involved in the process pretty much making obvious to me the high frequency of stadium collapsing accidents), Fred Frith and Paolo Angeli walk up to the stage and take place. They both look extremely cute, Angeli looking utterly italian and Frith excessively british (what with their propensity to grow in width with age), but I'd still hit it.
a bit pear shaped, you see
Fred is barefoot, Paolo is red-striped socked (we're on first name basis because they vaguely looked in my direction), and they do the works (even though K. complained that Paolo didn't use the perpendicularly placed strings enough, a common complaint in puppetry). It's jazzy, it's gypsy, it's fucky, it's funny, it's pretty.
a bit jazzy, a bit funny
a bit fucky
G I D D Y
ps: bisous à ceux qui se reconnaitront et qui ne répondent pas à mes sms quand je tente d'être accessible pour mes fans.
All of us would walk home our hearts fulfilled, this mission accomplished until the next one comes.
Rachid, wearing private David's lithuanian chapka
Friday October the 18th, now three hours ago, was the day I went to see a concert of Fred Frith, with Paolo Angeli, because not every night can be filled with booty bass. Opening for them was La Pieuvre, Grand orchestre d'improvisation placé sous la conduction d'Olivier Benoît, which are composed of 29 musicians, although there appeared to be less than that on the night, but I didn't count so I couldn't tell for sure. They were placed circularly in the middle of the room, with Olivier Benoit conducting from the center, and us the silly little audience surrounding them.
It started with a big BANG (for three minutes) and an hour later it ended with me being all happy. Not pictured, or at least not visible here, the odd socks of one of the voice-people (like boat-people but with their voice, we won't call them singers because this is improvised music, we don't do it that way sir). It was the night of the feet just as much as the night of Improv, follow the entry to know why.
Half an hour later, after the room has been entirely cleared and transformed into a amphitheater-like venue (the celerity involved in the process pretty much making obvious to me the high frequency of stadium collapsing accidents), Fred Frith and Paolo Angeli walk up to the stage and take place. They both look extremely cute, Angeli looking utterly italian and Frith excessively british (what with their propensity to grow in width with age), but I'd still hit it.
a bit pear shaped, you see
Fred is barefoot, Paolo is red-striped socked (we're on first name basis because they vaguely looked in my direction), and they do the works (even though K. complained that Paolo didn't use the perpendicularly placed strings enough, a common complaint in puppetry). It's jazzy, it's gypsy, it's fucky, it's funny, it's pretty.
a bit jazzy, a bit funny
a bit fucky
G I D D Y
ps: bisous à ceux qui se reconnaitront et qui ne répondent pas à mes sms quand je tente d'être accessible pour mes fans.