tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8986094381103016632024-03-13T19:21:09.365+01:00NOËTRAPortrait of a French musician in the 1970sJean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-63639412075410708242018-10-13T18:46:00.001+02:002018-10-15T07:03:19.670+02:001 Chef du Pont<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I can’t remember how everything started. Probably with a Beatles song playing on the radio. I was born in 53, as we said then, long before the year 2000. I grew up in Chef du Pont, a village in the marshes of Carentan, Cotentin, 4 km from Ste Mère Eglise, a small town immortalized by the 20th Century Fox movie, '' The Longest Day ''.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Chef du Pont, of interest to us: a church, 2 dairies, an andouille* factory (stench guaranteed), a train station, a grocery store, a hardware store, a girls’ school, a boys’ school, swamps, an open air dump overlooking a fetid pond near the railroad: the most attractive place in the village, by far!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #00000a; font-size: x-small;">*Chitling sausage. Note from the translator</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This pond was one day graced by a raft that I had built with two or three friends, made of big gas-oil cans maintained by boards, navigating between the willows to observe (scare) moorhens . This is also where I prepared my first meal alone by stoning a poor sparrow using my sling and charring it on an Indian style brooch. Later, as a scout, I would know all these "pleasures" on another scale ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My interest in the hardware store moved up several notches when I found out that, on Mom’s insistence (she taught at the boys' school), I could order the record I had heard on the radio and receive it three weeks later …</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I've never been as interested in pans and other kitchen accessories as I was during those three weeks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When the album arrived: The Beatles’ <i>Eight Days a Week</i> 45 Odeon Soe 3764, I entered my galaxy never to leave it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dad was the director of the Boys’ School in Chef du Pont. Life at home was punctuated by school holidays. Catherine, François and I were each born two years apart, with me being the eldest. During the holidays the boys' school was our exclusive territory... A unique feeling never to be had since. We could push the desks into a corner of Dad's class and set up the electric train circuit while listening to <i>Ticket to Ride</i> blasting on the Teppaz record player. The idea that we were privileged never occurred to me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">During the big void of July / August, the whole family went to "Sessions" in the four corners of France. The Sessions were eight-day seminars, sometimes longer, organized by the “Equipes enseignantes”, a left wing association created by some catholic teachers who tried to re-think teaching methods. On the way home we always took the opportunity to pay a three-week visit to Papa's parents at "La Vigerie", a property located a few kilometers from Bordeaux, where my grandmother worked as a janitor / housekeeper. We were therefore away for quite some time. Our return to Chef du Pont invariably went like this: older students, unaware of our arrival, had taken advantage of the large, empty schoolyard to play football, a game formally forbidden by my father during the rest of the year. The unfortunate kids were caught red-handed. In no time, they would all clear out, hoping not to have been spotted …</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The one place we never managed to tame was Dad's office, appropriately nicknamed “the bunker” by Vincent, my little brother, the youngest of the lineage who arrived late, 12 years after me. So this nickname came much later, in another house ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The office in Chef du Pont smelled strongly of cold tobacco and taboo. Dad stuffed his pipe with “blue tobacco” that I would get at Madame Ledouit's grocery store, a hundred meters from the school. Taboo was everywhere: the safest bet was to touch nothing. We would feel at fault simply going through the office door. The desk was a square table made by my uncle Robert, a carpenter, one of my mother's brothers. It was crowded but rather tidy. Virtually all the furniture we had at Chef du Pont was Robert's work. Mom has always had a great sense of family. For us, the office / bunker has remained one of the stronger images associated with Dad's psychology.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One of Dad’s constants was his quick irritation when we did not understand quickly enough, as if his attention was exclusively reserved for his students. One day, as I was clearing the table (exclusively a childrens’ task) I grabbed the meat dish and asked no one in particular: where goes? Daddy, exasperated: to the trash! With a determined step I headed for the garage. The maid caught me before it was too late. Never say in Daddy’s presence that we had a maid at home, he would have glared at you. The correct word was a housekeeper. The Lapouge’s do not take people’s dignity lightly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was going to forget: it was in Dad's office that I had my first and only sex education lesson. Papa (looking serious and uncomfortable): Jean, before you go (into sixth grade), don’t believe everything your classmates might tell you. Children are not born in cabbages, they are the product of the union of a man and a woman. End of lesson. Make do with that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Teppaz was also used by Mom to listen to 45’s by Jacques Brel, Guy Béart, Les Frères Jacques and Père Duval. Catherine, my younger sister (by two years), monopolized it from time to time for a 'yéyé' session with Adamo and her favorite singer, Frank Alamo: “biche, oh ma biche, lorsque tu soulignes au crayon noir tes jolis yeux”… The classical 33 rpm’s were in Papa's office, spinning in the “Pathé Marconi, La Voix De Son Maitre” cabinet.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; line-height: normal;">Odette and Henri Lapouge in Odette's classroom, cleared of its little school desks and showing its Gerflex flooring, on a Sunday's open </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; line-height: normal;">doors exhibit of the boys' school artwork. On the wall, a glimpse of the many art pieces drawn by the class's children.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I requisitioned the Teppaz, and from now on it would be upstairs in my bedroom exclusiveley playing my first records. I also took up the transistor radio that my parents used at noon to listen to the BBC and English pirate radios (they were easy to tune into) in my bed, at night, under the covers and in the dark. The corner of the room where I slept was lined with photos of the Beatles, in double spreads, mostly taken from Paris Match magazine. One exception: amid the Beatles would later appear a large poster of Julie Driscoll, first sign of my nascent puberty (60’s connoisseurs will appreciate …).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Listening to music is good, making music is better.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Mom bought her washing powder in round barrels. The washing machine had required the construction of a concrete screed to fix it to the ground while spin-drying! I still wonder how our clothes could withstand so much violence. The barrels were made of cardboard and did not like being dressed in white cloth to look like drums, they produced no sound, but on the picture the illusion was perfect.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The world I wanted to enter required credentials: a band name was essential. We quickly found it with the help of my little brother François: underwear being unfortunately strewn on the floor, the band became The Slipers**. Having been quickly anglicized to “The Sleepers”, the result of our brainstorm figured proudly on the cloth/barrel/bass drum. I will be the drummer.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">**Slip</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"> (pronounced ‘sleep’)= underpants in french - note from the translator</span></div>
Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-44698490798920823702018-10-13T18:21:00.000+02:002018-10-14T17:07:58.226+02:002 Valognes boarding school<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The CM1 and the CM2 classes (4<sup>th</sup> and 5<sup>th</sup> grades) at the boys' school in Chef du Pont were held by Henri Lapouge, that is to say, dad. It goes without saying I had been well prepared for my entry into sixth grade!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In September 64 I should have continued my studies in Sainte Mère Eglise, homeland of my dentist, a notorious butcher (God how I suffered!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My parents decided otherwise: my independent nature made them think it was better to send me to boarding school. As always, they were right.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Valognes is 40 km from Chef du Pont, so a real boarding school it was. A world in itself, a new horizon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dad drove me to the school door in his Citroën DS, very early on Monday morning (not a word was spoken on the way). I will take the Micheline train on Saturday at two o'clock from Valognes station to return home. You already know that there is a station at Chef du Pont. I have an immoderate love for trains, a love unfulfilled until then, although my uncle Maurice, my father's brother, would give me, every time we saw each other, his copies of '' La vie du Rail '' He was head of the station in Versailles, at that time part of Seine-et-Oise. My future was well laid out: the family expected me to be a train driver.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">To say that I adjusted to boarding life is a euphemism: I loved it. And you will see why.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The beginnings are always a bit difficult, but when you learn the codes, residential school life is not without benefits.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In Valognes, classes went from 6th grade to the end of high school. There was a huge age gap between the entering rookie and the doubling high school senior.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">To be really safe, one needed a godfather.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I found one in the person of Melon. An eccentric character, very tall, four years my elder, endowed with a type of humor yet unknown to me, English humor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My pass in Valognes was music. But I'm getting ahead ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My first trimester confirmed, if need be, my father’s efficiency as a teacher, my report card posted a general average of 18/20, with congratulations.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The autarkic life of High School interns included extra-curricular activities grouped under the name of clubs. Chess club, cinema club, music club etc.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Music club it will be. To be living in the « Manche » region is nevertheless to be living in France: one needs to register.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Sheets are passed with lists of names. The activities take place on Saturday afternoon, so I will have to take the evening train.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The music club was led by a supervisor. The most cowardly and unsympathetic supervisor around. He was the leader of the music club because Monsieur prided himself on being a singer. His repertoire: Yves Montand, les feuilles mortes se ramassen-tt-àà- la pêêlle…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The list.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Lapouge! What do you play ?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Drums</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Ah, Interesting!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I now see in the room a real golden drum set, shiny, much bigger than I could have imagined, almost threatening, very impressive at any rate, far from my laundry barrels.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At home, I used an enamelled sheet metal shade as a cymbal, just for looks because the sound was awful, far from the sound of Ringo's cymbals. Here for the first time too, I saw a big and beautiful cymbal, obviously brand new.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Show me what you can do!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I mount the stool. I forgot to tell you that I am an unconverted left-hander, a technical term often used by my Freinet Pedagogy-following parents. I start hitting as I do at home, reversed, the left stick on the cymbal and the right stick on the snare when suddenly I hear a loud laugh and a '' Well, forget it!" which makes me blush with shame, and is certainly at the root of my recurring musical nightmares.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I dropped out of the music club and preferred to spend my Saturday afternoons at the dump trying to implode television sets with my sling.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Life sometimes throws surprises at you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I hear that the first quarter ends with a ''sauterie''*. A term that I now find inappropriate for designating a musical evening taking place in a mixed high school!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #00000a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">* “Sauterie” = party; “sauter” = french slang for having intercourse. Note from the translator.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The party is planned after an evening meal preceding Christmas holidays, in the girls’ dormitory wing, a usually forbidden place, though a very coveted one by senior high school repeaters !</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Imagine a large classroom turned into a club, lights dimmed, the desk removed from the small platform where now sat the golden drum set and what I perceived as an electric guitar amplifier. My excitement was at its peak, the girls began to enter, all perfumed up and not dressed as usual. Mom never wore perfume.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was growing red as a beetroot and was very much afraid it showed. I was not at the end of my troubles. Guys were starting to fuss around the instruments. I recognized Yves Montand flanked by another supervisor who jumped on my drum seat and two guitarists, strangers to our small high school world.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I later learned that this band (without Yves Montand) occasionally performed outside the High School and played The Shadows’ repertoire.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">For now, the band is playing mostly French songs, leading to the climax: Les feuilles mortes se ramassen-tt-àà- la pêêlle…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Suddenly, the drummer, for some unknown reason, leaves the stage (and a puzzled Yves Montand) ... I see the singer coming towards me, asking me to head for the drums. Luckily, the next piece is a slow one that I hasten to play, reversed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Later I got a small smile of approval. I held my revenge and the protection of a supervisor, and not the least of them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">My newly found psychic balance</span><span style="color: #00d5ff; font-kerning: none;"> </span><span style="font-kerning: none;">(thanks to Yve’s smile) was disturbed by an unexpected consequence. Girls behaved differently with me. But it was thanks to Melon that </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was hit by love at first sight.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">6<sup>th</sup> grade was my year of physical growth. I gained 1 cm per month, reaching 1m72 by the age of 13.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Melon, who had befriended me, was still half a head taller. During one of our walks in the high school park, Melon revealed that one of the girls in his class fancied me. Jean, you can score! Terror. To back out, losing both face and my protector, was out of the question. He fixes us up, we have a date.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I saw her come from a distance, approaching, planting her eyes in mine: lightning and chills ran through my whole body, she was very pretty but just as scared as me ... I was paralysed by the novelty of physical emotion. A palpable embarrassment established itself between us, she quickly understands my immaturity. I will not be the chosen one, He Who Takes The Risk, defying the supervisors, to join her in the girls' dormitory.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Thursday was the mid-week break back then. The interns were allowed to go into the city for the afternoon, between two and six o'clock, only if the parents had signed the waiver. Mine had signed, but it was understood that I would go to the D.’s, acquaintances from the “Équipes Enseignantes” who lived in the city. I hated almost everything about the D. family. The father, the mother, the two sons, their cat, their habits, their way of dressing, their way of talking, everything. Their second son, a year older than me, was a boy scout. Why doesn’t Jean go with him to fill his Thursday afternoons with "practical" and healthy activities?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Boy Scouts? I just about hated it all. All we did was ideologically tainted (stained). The young D. was a pigheaded, spoiled and temperamental prick. And would you believe it, my parents and the D.’s came up with the idea that I go on vacation with them and their son in the Luberon, where they had a summer residence. I had, according to the D.’s, a good influence on their darned son ... Imagine sharing a two-person tent with this jerk. The worst vacation of my life. Fortunately, I traveled alone for the return trip, by train from Avignon to Paris. I had asked my parents to travel on board the Mistral, they owed me that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Later with the Scouts, I would raft down the Vire and participate in a three-day "forest survival" experience that would somewhat soften my resentment. In my third year, the scout leader attempted to reassert control by organizing a "reminder of ideological fundamentals" trip, just the two of us, on the coast. That day the Scouts of France definitely lost me.</span></span><br />
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-59136871652686594432018-10-13T18:09:00.000+02:002018-10-14T17:16:31.700+02:003 Daniel<div style="line-height: normal; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At the beginning of 7<sup>th</sup> grade there is a reshuffling of classes, depending on students’ optional studies. My parents had chosen Latin, so had Daniel’s. How he and I became friends, I can’t remember.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The music club had become the guitar club and had two guitars. The club leader was a great friend of Melon’s. He was a big fan of Brassens and contented himself with managing the two guitars, one with nylon strings, the other with steel strings and f-holes, like a violin. Actually, he managed only one guitar, keeping the nylon string for himself. The place was a respectable one once again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel and I learned the guitar together. At home, as I soon found out, Daniel already had a guitar. It was built by one of his older brothers and was of an unusually large size. It was a dark brown color and Daniel disappeared completely behind the sound box. It looked like the huge Mexican guitars we’d seen in the “Zorro” television series. His mother soon bought him a cheap electric guitar.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This one was hard to see, much smaller than the dark brown giant, almost too small, it had the headstock bending forward, which gave it a sickly air. However, it was glitter red and had a maple neck. It was a plank. Anyway, we had already decided who would be doing what: I’d comp on the steel string guitar and he’d take the melodies with his plank. It worked out pretty well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqkvcDtpVR0/W8IWwDQgj-I/AAAAAAAAANY/OfgUJaM44y0-4gGgUH5gpU5E7nPg4KjmACLcBGAs/s1600/2cv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="905" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqkvcDtpVR0/W8IWwDQgj-I/AAAAAAAAANY/OfgUJaM44y0-4gGgUH5gpU5E7nPg4KjmACLcBGAs/s400/2cv.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">The steel-string guitar with f-holes I borrowed for summer holidays</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I quickly made progress in comping, Georges Brassens having early on advised me a thesaurus of guitar chord diagrams published in the “Marabout” collection. Melon’s friend wasn’t really into pedagogy and transmission.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">And now I could practice at home too because my parents had offered me a nylon string study guitar that looked more or less like a classical guitar. We chose and bought it at Havet Photo in Cherbourg. There was a name written on the soundboard: Troubadour. It was stolen in 82. A "genial" female student to whom I lent it so she could practice at home never came back to her lessons …</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We started to build up a small repertoire. The Beatles' <i>For No One</i> was one of our favorite successes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel and I had found our stride. We did everything together and were inseparable. We had the circular tree-lined driveway of the park to ourselves, and when we were not playing at the guitar club (we now had the keys), we talked music in the park. A legendary twosome in the making.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">But would school break separate us? I have a talk with mom. She comes up with the solution. We shall go and ask Mrs. Renault, Daniel's mother, if I can spend part of the holidays at her place. I say her place because Daniel’s poor father’s lungs had been taken by the Montebourg cement plant, and he would soon pass away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I spent the months of July and August at Daniel's house. Definitely one of my best holiday memories. Daniel's mom was a cheerful and very optimistic woman. Life flowed easily, days into days, an impression of eternity.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We slept in the same room. We were used to it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel's little brother, a brawny young man, was training to be a cyclist. He was the pride of his big brothers, who had long left the family nest. When he came back from training, whatever the time, he had to eat: in addition to a healthy helping of pasta, he would prepare a twelve egg omelette…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In the afternoon we’d go fishing, most of the time we’d bring back tench from the Merderet, the river of my marshland. They tasted strongly of slime but sometimes we managed to catch eels: a guaranteed feast for the evening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The icing on the cake was that the Renault’s, a family of modest origins, had a TV. Daniel and I would watch it until late. I remember a W.C. Fields cycle but most often it was Fernandel and co.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Everything comes to an end. Come september, back to boarding school. We are no longer together, Daniel’s mother having chosen Spanish as a second language, my parents having chosen German. An idiotic lack of coordination. We now only have breaks, study and dormitory to see each other.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Emile must have landed in our high school in 9<sup>th</sup> grade. A little older than us, he is one of the strangest characters I have ever met.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A pianist with long fingers, very white skin, tall, an aesthete. Cultured. A Dali specialist and a Dylan translator! My galaxy was to grow by a few light years. My naïveté would shrink by as much. He gave me access to the big city: CHERBOURG. With Jean Émile everything changed. My little world could not cope with all that he induced, it cracked at the seams. I got into the habit of going to his home in Cherbourg. Well, to his home is what I told my parents.</span></span></div>
Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-72855666648022136352018-10-13T14:44:00.000+02:002018-12-04T07:47:42.490+01:004 Cherbourg<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ucDdOz5Qpxg/W8G2R6ouLkI/AAAAAAAAAMg/l16EBBWH9EIgVk0oPsUVFIyAb_rxLUJjQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Mon-dossier-secret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ucDdOz5Qpxg/W8G2R6ouLkI/AAAAAAAAAMg/l16EBBWH9EIgVk0oPsUVFIyAb_rxLUJjQCEwYBhgL/s400/Mon-dossier-secret.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"> My secret file which I'm sure my mother perused...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I learned to bend the truth, especially with mom. Dad had much more important things to do than listen to me. I distilled truth as opportunity allowed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our main cultural references at home were the Unesco Courier and "Croissance des jeunes Nations", monthly magazines, past issues of which were available in the upstairs toilet. Dad would read “Le Monde” at the dining table, listening to the news on the radio, commenting on the absurdities of the world with Mom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">They were third world activists.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We, the children, were not allowed to comment. Indeed, whatever could we have to say concerning the Algerian war, the Ben Barka affair, or the Petit Clamart attack?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">On Sundays, I’d take the 12 o’clock Micheline to Cherbourg. But first we went to mass.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At 10 o'clock, all practicing Catholics living in and around Chef du Pont would flow into the little church at the end of the village. There was no particular apprehension in attending, it being always the same thing, with the same people. There was the director of the Dairy Cooperative, his wife and two children, a couple of farmers from Carquebut, with their four children, just to name a few.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Missing were the manager of The Factory (that’s what we called the second, industrial, dairy), his wife, and his daughter whom I was secretly in love with. A family of unbelievers, certainly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In the midst of proceedings, I’d get up and go to the altar to read the gospel. On a beautiful wooden pulpit, a large bible-papered book was held open with a red netting on the day’s reading. I would discover the text as I read it, understanding absolutely nothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Then back to the pew.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A frankincense blessing, and a final song, in which mother put all her heart. The Dalmont (mom's maiden name) are good singers. My uncles were unsurpassable in hymn singing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">There was little time left for me to make it to my micheline at the train station.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Once in Cherbourg I did not always go to Jean Émile's home. I only went whenever we had agreed to meet. I had the afternoon to myself, until the return train. I also had the city to me, but what to do on a Sunday afternoon in Cherbourg?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Seek, and you shall find.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Off to the red-light district, “Rue de la Paix”. Prolonging Rue de la Paix is Rue de l’Union. One out of every two adresses is a sailor's bar filled with young, foreign-speaking boys, often Russian, on layover at the port of war. On the left, at the beginning of Rue de l'Union, I notice a posh door with the inscription: LE CLUB de CHERBOURG and in smaller print: Private Club.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At 3 pm the door opens. Imagine Benny Hill in a tracksuit, waddling at the door with a broad smile, looking up and down the street scrutinizing potential customers. He’s the boss. He is huge, and fills the door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dare I, dare I not, I have to get past the boss. He takes a small step to the side and lets me in.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">They say: Nightlife. Nightlife indeed. In the dim light of the first, elongated room (especially coming in from the outside) you can barely see the bar with its gleaming copper taps, and just beyond it a small vestibule opening on a square dance floor. On the right, at an angle, a rock band’s gear. A Ludwig drum set, surrounded by two big Marshall amps and a singer’s microphone. The Mediums will be playing later on.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">An eccentric crowd fills the club, girls and boys dressed up as if they’d just come off Carnaby Street, Soho, London. And here come the musicians: a trio -The Trio. Guitar, bass, drums. The guitarist is wearing a Louis XIV frilled shirt under a dark blue frock coat with a sheen to its collar due to his long hair, tight jeans, red boots. To my mind and to this day, the ultimate outfit for a rock guitarist.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>I'm so glad, I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad:</i> lyrics and music by an obscure American, covered by Cream; the Mediums have launched their set.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I discovered British Blues thanks to guitarist Yves Botomisi, AKA Boto. When I saw Boto bend the strings to get that characteristic bluesy sound, it opened up a whole new world, a revelation, a revolution should I say! Boto could bend the strings like nobody. When I gathered my courage and approached him to ask how he did it, he showed me his left hand and his fingers, yellowed not only by cigarette smoke but also by calluses. He made me touch the tips of his fingers, they felt like steel. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Back to the show; what I was witnessing on this tiny stage will forever be engraved in my memory. It was as if I had seen Hendrix and Clapton at the same time, a rythmic elegance shared only by natural-born types such as Boto; he swayed in a special, slow and almost feminine way ... His interpretations of Hendrix’ <i>Fire</i> and <i>Hey Joe</i> were really amazing. Cream’s <i>Disreali Gears</i>, Jimi Hendrix’ <i>Are you experienced</i>, John Mayall’s <i> A Hard Road</i> etc. will become my new bedside records. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Urp6cH1kZ-s/W8G4sNiH_HI/AAAAAAAAAMs/fonwBQwnnNoWXGWk9YOyKp1NaVN9c3QdACLcBGAs/s1600/Mediums-1968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="456" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Urp6cH1kZ-s/W8G4sNiH_HI/AAAAAAAAAMs/fonwBQwnnNoWXGWk9YOyKp1NaVN9c3QdACLcBGAs/s400/Mediums-1968.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Mediums 1968, Yves Botomisi on the left</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Mediums were not the only band playing at the Club de Cherbourg, there were also the Hawks. I liked them less. They had a good singer with a powerful Eric Burdon-type voice. Their House of the Rising Sun was actually very good. They had their favorite song, Them’s Gloria, but they were more or less specialized in Rhythm and Blues covers (In The Midnight Hour etc.) A pity the guitarist, who had a wonderful sunburst Telecaster, only knew the first position F barre chord that he shifted all over the neck.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Boto had a Fender Mustang, but for him the brand and the quality of the guitar had absolutely no importance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I became a regular at the Club de Cherbourg on Sunday afternoons. I tried to go at night once. But it was complicated to provide mom with a good reason to leave on Saturday and I immediately saw that the club could become creepy, or even dangerous!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The good-natured club that I knew in the afternoon turned into a shady bar, adapted to the neighborhood's clientele. The atmosphere was electric, certainly due to the sometimes aggressive behavior of the sailors between themselves. Fights started from time to time, quickly calmed by the boss and his henchman. Heavily made-up girls, perched on the stools, chatted and drank with the sailors. I found nothing better to do in this now hostile place than to order a croque monsieur. I was served at the bar, which made it all the more incongruous.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The music on the stereo was always rhythm and blues, the same as played by the Hawks ... Suddenly I saw Boto come to pick up the boss's daughter, who resembled a tall sexy horse wearing a large hat trimmed with ribbon as if on the Longchamp racetrack. I knew where they were going. They went to the Café du Théâtre de Cherbourg, a classier place than the club, where Boto had his ways and loved to show off. I had already seen them together at the Theater Café when I’d walk aimlessly around Cherbourg. Boto fascinated me, going from one girl to the next, I looked at him from the street and took great care not to be noticed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As for myself, every so often I would go to a small bar that was equipped with a scopitone. The customer-initiated song I remember best is <i>Love me, please love me</i> by Michel Polnareff.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">So there I was at the Club on a Sunday afternoon, at the bar with my free drink, a cold Cacolac, when I heard the boss say: I'm bummed, I have no one for Sunday!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I heard myself answer:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Maybe I can help you out?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Do you play music?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Yes, I have a band.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Indeed, I had a band. Jean Émile, Daniel and I had started one in high school.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Émile was on bass, a Fender precision his mother had bought him, the same as in Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited. He had also copied the photographer's outfit on the cover, often wearing, (and on stage, invariably), a white / red striped T-shirt. Daniel was now playing drums, a Pearl set that his many older brothers had managed to buy him, and I was playing a guitar bought for 80 francs from the daughter of Madame Ledouit, the grocer at Chef du Pont.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It was one ugly guitar! A Wandrè, completely atypical, built around an aluminum neck that went through the length of the guitar. The body, made of flamed blue plastic with an upper horn, seemed to wrap itself around the neck! A horrid piece of gear.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Mom, authoritarian:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Jean, for starters, it should do!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Mrs. Ledouit had told her it was a very good guitar. Mom had no reason not to believe her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Indeed, one day I saw Boto bend the strings on this guitar. It was a very good guitar.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Emile offered to repaint it so as to mask its 60’s freak show look. His idea (and a good one it was) was to give it a psychedelic look, like that projected onto The Grateful Dead or Jefferson Airplane at the Filmore West. He chose pink as the dominant colour. I’m not quite sure I was better off for it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our repertoire: British blues. Perfect for the Club de Cherbourg.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EokTrEqssFY/W8G6AXKBFzI/AAAAAAAAAM4/0JBYyYD2y0Af0wp0luuPxFHdsFCb2OolgCLcBGAs/s1600/Ma%2BWandre%25CC%2580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="683" height="250" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EokTrEqssFY/W8G6AXKBFzI/AAAAAAAAAM4/0JBYyYD2y0Af0wp0luuPxFHdsFCb2OolgCLcBGAs/s400/Ma%2BWandre%25CC%2580.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">A Wandrè model identical to my guitar... except for the color</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">D-day. On the slate outside, in front of the club, the date and the band’s name: The Openin's. Note the apostrophe, English at its best.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I'm still ashamed today.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I feel the boss is a little nervous, we are a gamble for him. The customers seem to be coming in, the first notes begin, the girls head to the dance floor, the boss relaxes a little. Towards the end of the last set, I also relax a little and go for a long solo at the end of a tune, inspiration comes, we end with applause. The boss has saved his Sunday.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When we left he asked me:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- The solo, was it planned?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Yes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Good.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Clever guy, the boss.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WrDCPx3fIE/W8G8SFsjmHI/AAAAAAAAANE/B9p_bwAuIZgb59ZvpwrplJDsryHSQ-JEgCLcBGAs/s1600/Le-Club-de-Cherbourg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1011" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WrDCPx3fIE/W8G8SFsjmHI/AAAAAAAAANE/B9p_bwAuIZgb59ZvpwrplJDsryHSQ-JEgCLcBGAs/s640/Le-Club-de-Cherbourg.jpg" width="403" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The school year 67/68 saw the emergence of a new protagonist in our small world at Valognes High School. Another singing supervisor. He clinched a season’s gig at “Les Enfants de Cherbourg" for us. Les Enfants de Cherbourg was a kind of charity that organized Sunday afternoon dances in an abandoned gymnasium, for the modest Cherbourg youth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">But first we had to:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">1 - hire him as a singer</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">2 - expand our repertoire</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">3 - buy a PA and an organ to be able to lay claim to the contract.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One thing that is obvious even to a neophyte is the disparity of earnings between musicians. Dad and Mom, whom I asked to finance the project, saw it right away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Jean! Daniel and you will not earn anything with this arrangement! (the fees would be used to pay back the sum advanced by my parents for the sound system and the organ)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Mom, it doesn’t matter, we’re not in it for the money.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- All right, but François (the singer) and Jean Emile (the pianist) must sign us an I.O.U.…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I can still see us, the band, my mother, my father, all in his makeshift notary’s office. It was a tough moment because I knew how it was going to end.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">And it ended badly indeed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Our gig at les Enfants de Cherbourg</span><span style="color: #00d5ff; font-kerning: none;"> </span><span style="font-kerning: none;">had the merit of forging our endurance. We played from 3 pm to 7 pm with a 15-minute break. I absolutely had to catch the last micheline at 19:30.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Francois M. was pretty handsome and the girls flocked to him. This interest ricocheted somewhat on the rest of the band. One day during our break, an Asian girl came up, took me by the hand and practically dragged me into a cloakroom at the top of a staircase. She closed the door, nailed me to the wall and stuck her tongue in my mouth. What a shrew! I was paralyzed, without reaction. Very quickly, like a cat with dead prey, she abandoned me and returned to the dance floor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The band’s program was gradually moving away from the blues, songs were creeping in, such as: <i>Nights in white satin</i> by The Moody blues, <i>America</i> by The Nice, <i>A Whiter Shade of Pale</i> by Procol Harum, <i>Light My Fire</i> by the Doors, <i>Season of the Witch</i> by Julie Driscoll and Brian Auger etc. Their performance was greatly facilitated by the acquisition of the organ.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At home I had decided to figure out all the songs on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. None resisted me. In Cherbourg I was known as the guitarist who knew all of Sgt. Pepper's chords. But Boto remained unbeatable...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Unfortunately, an event tarnished his image.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After "Les Enfants de Cherbourg", we managed to get a gig at the "Moulin Normand" the Dance hall in Quinéville, located on the east coast of Cotentin. We were to play every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday of the summer season. Jean Emile had started to go out with the manager’s daughter, who also attended Valognes high school. Sylvie was crazy about Jean Emile!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We had downsized the band’s personnel:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Daniel and his double Pearl drum set,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Jean Emile: Fender Precision bass on a double input Farfisa amp that we had been using at the Club de Cherbourg (I used the second input for my guitar),</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Jean: Wandrè guitar through a Vox AC 30 amp.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Repertoire: instrumental blues + some additional songs (with myself on vocals)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Crossroads (Cream)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- All your love (Otis Rush)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Sunshine of your love (Brown / Bruce / Clapton), without vocals (superfluous)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Band Name: Nashville Skyline (I’ve always been good at band names).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We made an appearance around eleven o'clock at night, a sort of community activity. I do not remember seeing many people in this dance hall, Sylvie undoubtedly had had something to do with our getting the gig.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Around 2 o'clock in the morning, Daniel and I would ride our Solex’ across 15 km of marshes to get back to his house in Hémevez for some sleep.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Remember my gear? Wandrè guitar and Vox AC 30 amp.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Boto, my hero, had managed to sell me his old beat-up AC 30 for a decent price. He even demo’ed it by plugging in my Wandrè and let me tell you, it smoked! This amp had played the Marquee in London (well, supposedly ...) and the Golf Drouot in Paris (that's for sure, I had seen the photos!) This amp had the characteristic smell of touring equipment: a mixture of cigarette smoke and beer that musicians invariably knock over at one time or another after putting their glasses on it. The smell of old-time dance halls.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A year later I got a phone call from Boto at my parents' house in Granville.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Jean I'm bummed, I’ve got an important gig, my Marshall just broke down, can you lend me my AC 30?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Sure, it’s at Jean Emile’s place, drop by and pick it up ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I never saw his AC 30 again. Nor Boto himself, who died prematurely several years later, in near misery. He never got the time or the opportunity to become Johnny Halliday's guitarist, his hidden ambition ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As for François M., he had disappeared with the sound system and the organ, address undisclosed.</span></span></div>
Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-20563447387208481312018-10-12T15:10:00.000+02:002019-02-22T14:54:57.121+01:005 Ganville<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My grades and evaluations in Valognes were dropping dangerously. I kept up thanks to the kindness of girls from whom I “borrowed" homework during study period. After all, I had to somehow compensate for the huge holes in my schedule - spent playing with Daniel.<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Luckily, May 68 came around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Total disorganization, no more notes, no more evaluations. Nothing. I had not told Daddy how bad it was, so he still drove me to Valognes every Monday morning. And we still did not talk in the DS.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">At school, the first deserters were the day pupils, followed by the teachers. We had the school to ourselves. I could play guitar whenever I wanted. I say: I, because Daniel stayed at home, he felt better there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">I spent a lot of time with a girl who was very much in love with me. I, however, to her great regret, was not so much in love with her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Mid-June, end of classes, my parents announce that we will probably move to Granville next fall. Upsetting news for me and my little world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">No more trips to Cherbourg, no more Daniel (enrolled at Octeville’s technical college, in the suburbs of Cherbourg)! My parents feared for my health. It didn’t turn out that bad, but still, I suffered a nasty bout of depression ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">The whole family found itself in an affordable housing unit on the heights of Granville, pending a nicer place. My parents, little Vincent, François, Catherine and me in 90 m2.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Fortunately, my room was at the end of the corridor, the farthest from my father's perimeter. I shared it with François. We were to become intimate partners. Little by little, we revealed our worlds to each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Francois drew, I played my Gibson Les Paul. Dad and I had gone to Paris to buy it, in the Pigalle district. ‘Rock & Folk’, a magazine I had recently discovered, always featured a full-page Paul Beuscher ad featuring two gorgeous Les Pauls: one gold top and one black. I chose the gold top.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">My parents took advantage of the 68/69 Christmas holidays to bring the whole family down to visit my paternal grandmother who was recently widowed and now resided with her daughter Henriette in Carbon Blanc, in the suburbs of Bordeaux.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">During a walk down St. Catherine Street, Bordeaux, Mom bought me, at my insistence, a blue frock coat (which I would no longer be seen without), red boots and two LPs: '' Electric Lady Land '' by Jimi Hendrix and Soft Machine 1.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">My uncle Robert was a playful Guy Marchand-type character, married to Aunt Henriette who, in turn, looked more or less like Sophia Loren in "The Countess of Hong Kong". Uncle Robert was a radio ham. To show off the quality of his hi-fi equipment he put on my Hendrix record (I had chosen it for this purpose). He turned the volume up loud. Imagine my dismay when I saw the faces of my parents, Henriette and my grandmother discovering what I was going to listen to in my room. Fortunately, they never saw what Hendrix was doing at the same time with his tongue: I would have been ashamed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Back in Granville I had my first listen of Soft Machine 1, which I had bought based on a Rock &Folk critic’s review.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">The twenty second interlude of Why Am I so Short (10: 13/10: 28) was a life-changing experience!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Suddenly and violently emerged the hypnotic world of repetitive music inspired by American minimalism, which would become (and remains to this day) one of my most important musical references. I would listen to those twenty seconds up to ten times in a row! Soft machine’s <i>Third </i>and <i>Fourth</i> would later usher me into the world of complex harmonies, inexhaustible sources of beauty and inspiration ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">I shared my discovery of Soft Machine with Jean Emile (we had kept up an episodic relationship). We saw each other at his home. He liked the record well enough. Nevertheless Bob Dylan remained his reference – he worshiped him in a touching way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">He managed, by some mystery, to get us booked for the first Cherbourg Pop Festival in May 1970.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">- Nashville (note the shortened name)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">- Introversion</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">- Ange</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">- Martin Circus</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">I have nothing noticeable to say about our performance, I do not remember having to cope with stage fright, a problem I will unfortunately have to struggle with later at important concerts. Maybe It was because we were in Cherbourg. It just felt like the usual routine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">And yet I do remember seeing Ange’s roadies unload two organs from their truck (not without difficulty), and the two Descamps brothers, the bandleaders, warming up during sound check. Not very interesting, I thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">My opinion changed when I saw how they managed to capture their audience and turn a technically mundane performance into an unforgettable moment for their fans. They already had a true sense of dramaturgy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Introversion played around with some Pink Floyd covers, in a rather convincing way. I remember hearing a very nice rendition of <i>Be careful with that axe, Eugene</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">While lounging behind the scenes I came across members of Martin Circus, the festival headliners. I was subjugated by their saxophonist, as he warmed up. Sensing my interest, he began blowing through Frank Zappa themes (an artist I had just discovered) at the speed of light. For the first time I felt that subtle touch of Parisian superiority.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Their performance that evening was mundanely mainstream...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">Much later (in 79) I saw the band’s keyboardist gigging as a sideman for Plastic Bertrand at a shoddy pop event in Dordogne. There I was again, opening for them with my dance band. Such are the grandeurs and vicissitudes of the working musician, be he Parisian...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">The major interest of the festival was for me to have witnessed firsthand the extent of the "groupie" phenomenon. A spontaneous generation, they swarmed pop concerts everywhere, flocking around the most prominent musicians. Even on the scale of Cherbourg the movement was impressive. Their dress code: an open suede longcoat over a white lace panty, sexy as hell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">The last time I saw Jean Emile was at a concert we had booked at the Agricultural vocational school in Coutances, shortly after the festival. The plan was for Jean Emile to kick things off with a solo set on electric upright </span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Hohner </span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">piano , his brand new acquisition; then the trio (Daniel, Jean Emile on bass and myself) would play a long untitled S</span><i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: xx-large;">uite</i><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"> I had composed around all that I had learned from Soft Machine; again, something of a Première... This first composition remains unwritten to this day, but I still remember the main theme.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">The first part almost went sour, Jean Emile having set out to play "free" in a radically Cecil Taylor way, completely confusing the students who began to stir and grumble dangerously. After the concert he told me that he had tried to calm them down with a series of completely consonant and "strong" major chords. I’m not quite sure he really succeeded. My <i>Suite</i> went off without a hitch, but Jean Emile’s music was a major shock for me - atonal piano music was to fascinate me to this day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">I remember our last Jean Emile-related misadventure, an event that took place shortly after this particular "free" concert in Coutances.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;">He had booked a gig for the trio with the Périers festival committee, a town of 1500 souls, located halfway between Granville and Cherbourg. We were to play for the village festival’s dinner dance. Apart from our last "experiments", we only knew blues tunes. Papa's Citoën GS Model dropped us (Daniel, the Les Paul and myself) at 5 pm on the village square. Jean Émile and all his equipment was to come from Cherbourg with a friend of his who owned a car. At 7 P.M, still no Jean Émile. The Committee staff’s inquiries regarding the situation were becoming less and less friendly as the clock ticked away. At eight o'clock, shit was really starting to hit the fan. Daniel and I decided to run away, like thieves, to the other end of the village and the road to Granville, where we mercifully hitched a ride in short time. Having never seen Jean Emile again, we never found out how things had gone in late-night Périers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lycée Ferdinand Buisson, Granville. 1969.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A new high school at age 16 is tough going, but I got used to it very quickly. New faces, new schoolmates.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was in tenth grade, majoring in humanities. How Sylvain and I became friends, I cannot say.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A well above average sense of humour. A history wizkid (I saw him turn in his copy at the baccalaureate, a freaking book, grade: 20) I also saw him challenge teachers more than once. Sylvain is a nice guy, just don’t mess around with accuracy. His two specialties: World War II and airplanes. You get the picture, I liked Sylvain very much.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I may have met “Lapin” through him, I'm not certain, but Lapin’s girlfriend was in my class, that’s for sure! Imagine a 17-year-old Joan Baez, Indian-style hair with a skirt and a suede fringed jacket, she was Woodstock all by herself, the prettiest girl around: but she was Lapin’s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin is a guitarist. Not just any old guitarist, he’s the best one around, and everyone knows it. He has a sort of lisp, endearing him all the more. Lapin knows Boto, but Cherbourg is 120 km away, each man to his territory.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin is a professional. He makes a living playing guitar. He plays dancehalls, and has a Gibson SG Standard with a big vox amp (you know, man: ssoundss ssuperb!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin will be my mentor for the next few years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At home, my cohabitation with François is a fruitful one. His drawing is progressing by leaps and bounds, and he’s moving on to oil painting. The first painting I remember is of wasps on a green background. Our room smells strongly of turpentine, I want to try painting too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I am not moving away from music, far from it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Les Paul is not plugged in, I no longer have an amp. I don’t need one, silent guitar is just what’s needed in affordable housing units.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This guitar is a lucky charm. I’m starting to find unusual chords that I can link together to form small melodies. A sweet short chord progression even gets a title: Calèche. I have just found a compositional workflow which, more or less, will be that of many years to come.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One day I tell Sylvain:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- I play guitar.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- No kidding?!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Yes! I compose songs, do you want to come and listen to them at home?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As I played Calèche for him, it was my turn to impress Sylvain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">François, who is four years younger than me, had his own life at Ferdinand Buisson Junior High School. He was part of a group of four classmates who hung out after class. They were more politicized than me, a post 68 wind of leftist protest was making its mark on the younger kids’ minds... One of them, Jean Pierre, would later introduce me to Ralph Towner’s <i>Trios / Solos </i>with Glenn Moore.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My own expression of revolt was to steal records. Quite convenient. Double albums, no less. How else could I justify the possession of several double albums in my nascent discotheque?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Soft Machine’s ‘Third’, I bought. Not worth taking risks with that one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We’ve been talking music, it's time we talked painting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The top floor of our building was occupied by an elderly retired couple, Mr and Mrs Cauchy. My parents had met them at mass at St Paul's Church. Mr Cauchy had ended his career as a foreman at the Gobelins Tapestry Factory in Paris. He and his wife had come to peacefully retire in Granville.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">They quickly learned that François painted. It turns out that Mr Cauchy was a painter himself. Our whole family was invited for tea and biscuits at Madame Cauchy's.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Before serving tea and fruit juice Mr Cauchy wanted us to visit their apartment. In the living room - or was it their bedroom? - hung a tapestry-portrait of his wife and himself!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The rest of the visit proved more interesting. Small-format paintings by Georges Braque, Hans Hartung, Georges Mathieu... decorated the rooms and the hallway, gifts from the artists to the foreman.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Mr Cauchy could be of help to François. François went to Mr Cauchy’s for quite a long time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I took some lessons too, with François, on the top floor, but I was not as motivated as he and did not attend regularly. Also, we’d get the giggles and I did not want to Mr Cauchy to take umbrage. Under his authority, I started to work on a construction site-themed piece. Halfway through, my drawing strongly mimicked Fernand Léger's workers. The drawing remained unfinished ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Back to the housing unit. The ground floor was occupied by a family who owned a TV set that received both existing channels. My parents never really hooked up with TV. In front of the set, I’d always see mom knitting while reading the newspaper.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Airing on channel 2 was a show called... Pop 2. Off to the ground floor we went.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We were greeted on the doorstep by a strong smell of piss, the baby kid peed in bed and apparently the washing machine could not keep up! In this smell François and I discovered our favorite musicians playing live: Frank Zappa, Yes, Soft Machine, Magma etc.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In time, Lapin and I became close enough for me to play in front of him and share my aspirations with him. During summer weeks, I knew where to find him: with his girlfriend at the Plat Gousset, the posh beach near the casino where he sometimes played.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One day, He gave me John McLaughlin’s <i>Extrapolation</i>, with John Surman, as a gift.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- Here Jean, you’re more into modern stuff, this isn’t for me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin was more into Santana.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In addition to his unconventional diction Lapin often distorted the ends of words, on purpose. He was very creative at this little game. Carpenter became Carpentoo etc.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I’ve always enjoyed this alternative language slant that is often found in musicians ...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">He also gave me a very good piece of advice.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- If you want to make ssure you don’t ever misss out on gigging opportunitiess, learn to read mussic; I ssubbed in Emilio Corfa’ss orchesstra the other day and had to read the sscore. Now I'm taking classess at Mrs. Hammel’ss: sshe’s jusst explained tripletss to me, cool!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I immediately set up an appointment with Mrs. Hammel. Her apartment was in a street leading up to the historical town center. Madame Hammel was a spinster of the old-fashioned romantic type. She was very old and gave cheap music lessons to survive.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">So the lesson begins: do-si-fa-la-re etc. Suddenly she lifts a saucer placed on a bowl and spits into the green slime slushing around the bottom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The house that my parents had decided to build was ready, it was five hundred meters from our appartment building. Francois and I now had separate rooms in the second floor attic. The little Telefunken hi-fi system that we had shared found its way to my bedroom, where I listened, almost pathologically, to Soft Machine’s ‘Fourth’, especially Virtually, the track that ran the whole B-side.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">On Saturday nights now, I played in a dance orchestra in Villedieu les Poêles, following in my mentor’s footsteps. I did OK, I had learnt all of Sgt. Pepper’s by ear, and French ‘variété’ was a breeze. Of that orchestra’s repertoire I only remember Santana’s <i>Samba pa ti</i> and Michel Fugain’s 1972 national anthem <i>Une belle Histoire</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">On the last evening, the director invited me to play on a guitar that was hanging around. I played Calèche. Again, the song made a beautiful impression.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I started documenting the ideas I found on my guitar, which I could now write thanks to Mrs. Hammel’s previously touted lessons. They basically consisted of looped arpeggios. I’d imagine melodies, singing them, to break the monotony of the loops.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This was to become a part of my style. I asked the saxophonist / clarinetist from my dance band to come and try the melodies at home. He came on a Sunday with his girlfriend Marie Christine. We played my scores in the attic.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">That day I realized that I would spend the rest of my life on a quest for melodies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">All of this left very little time and motivation for schoolwork. Came what must: a resounding second graduation failure, with a grade of 0.5 in math, which undermined all the more, if need be, my parents’ certainty that I would attend university. Another year without Sylvain at Ferdinand Buisson, to no avail. I will never receive higher education!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My relationship with Dad became icy. Had Mum told him about our long conversations concerning my future, in which I envisioned myself following in the footsteps of Lapin?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I'm not sure, in fact I would not have liked it if she had.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In any case, those two successive graduation failures were to feed recurring nocturnal fears, even to this day.</span></span></div>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-91552486008775294782018-10-11T12:04:00.000+02:002018-11-05T09:57:18.174+01:006 ‘’ La Vache Brune’’<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">During my second last year of high school, I didn’t get much news from Daniel, enough however to learn that he had quit studying and was making a living with music (?), with help from a friend living in Saint Lô, who he had met in class. Magribe, his friend, had found him a very cheap farmhouse to rent, right next to his own house.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel was not one to do things by halves. He and I had unfinished business together, and our story was to resume at ’’ La Vache Brune’’.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A small locality on the edge of St Samson de Bonfossé, near Saint Lô, “La Vache Brune” housed a small farmhouse at the end of a dirt road. No running water, just a well five meters from the house, no heating either, just a smoke-blackened chimney.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One room on the ground floor, two rooms upstairs. A bit of furniture provided by Magribe: two Citroën DS seats for a lounger, a table, knocked together with a tree trunk slab and three feet, two or three chairs, and an old gas oven. Upstairs, a matress on the floor of the first bedroom, the Pearl double drum set in the second.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">All I want now is to join Daniel at ‘’ La Vache Brune’’. I had an ally in Mom. Had she convinced daddy that a danceband musician’s life was a sustainable one? The fact remains that I moved to Daniel's farm in July 72, with François, who would spend his summer vacation there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">François Lapouge: Jean Lapouge, 1973, charcoal on Canson paper, </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mike Ratledge, 1973, Indian ink and gouache on transparent paper</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I'll get into the habit of hitching a ride back to my parents’ every other week with my laundry, my sweaters having suffered from my first washing attempts. I had tried to wash my best sweater, which I thought gave me a bit of a Mike Ratledge look, by soaking it in boiling water: when I put it back on I looked more like an accordion. I also kept up the lessons with Mrs Hammel. Dad would drive me back to St Samson in his GS. Daddy always was a Citroën man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">There were now several mattresses on the floor in Daniel's bedroom, provided by Magribe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe, an anagram for Gambier, first name: Michel, is the central character of “La Vache Brune”. He has a grey 2 CV with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and tobacco crumbs - he rolls his cigarettes and joints. He is very helpful, practical, tends to want to improve everything that can be, stubborn, sometimes funny, sometimes not. We know when he is around because he always trails behind him heady smells of patchouli.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As a cook, Magribe’s specialty is brown rice with herbes de Provence. We sometimes had trouble distinguishing the rice from the herbs. It was, however, a change from our basic diet. Breakfast: bread with hot milk; lunch: alternately, duck eggs (given by the neighboring farm) or oven-dried pork blood pancakes; evening: bread with hot milk.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe had another recipe: a decoction of eucalyptus leaves. He and Daniel tried it one day. Two hours later I prevented Daniel from breaking out of the bedroom window. His strange behavior and hallucinations lasted two days!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Musically speaking, Magribe was our first and foremost fan. He invented a Leslie booth of sorts by turning a sheet of hardboard in front of my amp during our improvised concerts in the Pearl room, guaranteed to impress!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">He would later buy me a nice classical guitar when Daniel and I began to seriously play violin / guitar duets. Daniel and Magribe certainly never did things by halves.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe would also be the one to organize a trip to Royan to attend a contemporary music festival. The Royan municipal campsite in April turned out to be an exhausting experience. On closing night, a real musical marathon, I fell asleep during the Fantastic Symphony, to wake up in the middle ages, courtesy of a motet by Guillaume de Machaut.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Living with Daniel at “La Vache Brune” was never difficult, we knew each other so well. Our two personalities generated no particular tension, we could each go about our business without necessarily informing the other. Daniel could spend hours playing drums without my noticing, monopolized as I was by my own research. I was now writing my ideas in music booklets and he was blackening pages and pages with drum "patterns", in all sorts of unbelievable time, just in case they might be of use ... He also started learning the violin, in which circumstances ? I don’t remember. At first the violin’s screeching was hard to bear, but he quickly made progress - to the point that we could play duets. I started to create a small specific repertoire that was more or less like chamber music, I had listened to Debussy, Fauré, Ravel, Poulenc a lot, borrowing discs from my mom's discotheque.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Daniel and I in front of "Toutoun"'s camera, a great friend and classmate of Daniel's and Magribe's from their Octeville years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A very studied pose. Daniel focusing on his ultra complicated drum patterns, his violin prominently propped in the foreground. Some nonchalantly open files show pieces written for posterity ... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A title:<i> Chant du Matin des Eaux</i>. The Title came from Magribe, in reference to his discovery and pet classical music obsession at the time: Charles Koechlin. Not sure my two page ditty compared favourably with that beautiful early twentieth century music. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The title was written using stencil letters which can be seen half hidden to the right of the table. In the background Daniel's unusually large guitar, sitting on the DS seat and leaning against the stairs. That manuscript has disappeared, <i>Chant du Matin des Eaux</i> is definitely lost for posterity.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Same photo shoot, "Toutoun" still behind the camera. I strike a pose with my Troubadour. Note: One of my Mike Ratledge turtleneck sweaters knitted by my mother to my exacting specifications. Its colour: Orange. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A "Canadian Lumberjack" jacket replaces the navy velvet frock coat of the Boto years. Advantageously in my opinion. Giving a Jack Kerouac look. It had been given to me by Maryvonne who wore it all the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Maryvonne was a tall "beat" type, a disheveled Marilyn Blonde who had been tremendously heartbroken when Jean Emile had left her for Sylvie. Boys would literally freak out in her presence. If, heaven forbid, one of them allowed himself an inappropriate gesture, she would ice him down. A queen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Like all beat girls she dressed as a boy, no frills, foregoing all that was feminine. When she found out I loved her jacket, she gave it to me on the spot, causing me much embarrassment. To me, Maryvonne was and remains the most beautiful girl in the world.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">With Daniel we did not talk much, there was no need, we had already said everything (well, everything that was tell-able). From time to time one of us would have an "Anguish" attack, a kind of dizzy and deep questioning of the future to which we had no answer, not enough words for that, the complicated words, we did not want to use them, we could not use them, we were musicians after all, not novelists. Yet we read a lot. I had started my cycle of American literature, Dos Passos, Henri Miller, Jack Kerouac etc. in paperback, of course. Daniel was more into Caldwell and Steinbeck.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Whoever would go into "Anguish" remained prostrate in one of the DS seats for hours on end. It happened to us in turn. The other waited patiently for it to pass. It always passed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Life flowed, free from the world at large.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">From time to time, if we could, we went to the movies in Saint Lô. Hitching a ride back was out of the question, no more cars at that hour, so: a ten kilometer walk home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I particularly remember when Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange came out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The only thing I've ever (internally) blamed Daniel for is the fact that he always bought Klorane shampoo for his beautiful, long, curly hair, of which he took great care. Even when we were flat broke, he’d go to the pharmacy just to buy this shampoo…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our only real connection to the world was the records.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The sound track at ‘'La Vache Brune'' consisted of Weather Report </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I Sing The Body Electric</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">, Miles Davis </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In A Silent Way/Bitches Brew/Live-Evil</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">, Soft Machine </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">5 & 6</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">, King Crimson </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Lizard</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> and Mahavishnu Orchestra </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Inner Mounting Flame.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Listening to that last record brought on a deep depression. With McLaughlin setting the bar so high, why bother with the guitar? I figured a change of instrument was the solution.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Purchase an oboe on credit.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Hitch a ride back to St Samson.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">But switching from guitar to oboe was far from obvious. Yet I stood firm for four years. At the very beginning, I even took a few lessons at the Saint Lô Conservatory. The director played trombone and wrote the arrangements for Daniel's dance band...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin also wanted to expand his musical abilities by learning another instrument, he thought it might better his chances of being engaged on a yearly basis by a casino orchestra. Professionally, a casino orchestra was our Holy Grail. At that level, one played the same venue every day, wicked!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">He managed to unearth a xylophone, which would do until he found a vibraphone. In Granville, during my record buying spree, I had discovered <i>Throb</i> by Gary Burton, who quickly became one of my favorite musicians. So what a godsend they were, Lapin and his xylophone!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">So now I had the ideal lineup for my band: Daniel, Lapin, the saxophonist from Granville, a young bass player: Denis Lefranc (I don’t remember who recruited him) and myself. I managed to set up two or three rehearsals in the Pearl room. The first song the band rehearsed already had a title: Luisances. “Ssounded great”.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe, having heard us, was one step ahead: he was already thinking transportation. One day he arrived with a Renault van. It was never to leave the farm again, a rod having blown. Pitifully, the van ended up as a makeshift toilet in the barn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One day, we made a small career breakthrough. A recording of three of our tracks, including the much-touted Calèche, made at Radio Cherbourg and highlighting our violin / guitar duet, reached the ears of a regional television programmer from Caen. They had even decided to do a story on ''La Vache Brune'' for the regional news.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Before their coming, Daniel and I had some thorough housecleaning to do. A lot of work, especially on top of the gaz oven, with the milk overflowing almost every day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The TV car arrives, a female reporter in a sheepskin jacket and her cameraman step out. Interview: ''how do two young people etc..." in local network style ; record a track for background sound. After the report’s airing, relations with my father improved.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At the beginning of 73, Daniel’s dance band dissolved, due to financial difficulties, endangering our fragile balance. We needed to evolve.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Lapin had told us about the boss of a Rennes bistro, a former musician who played the role of poste restante. He was the go-between for musicians and dance band managers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A band from the Poitiers area was looking for a guitarist and a drummer. The next week we left with Marie Christine, the sax’s former girlfriend, soon to become my wife, who owned a 2 CV 6 - en route for the south! Neither Daniel nor I had learned to drive.</span></span></div>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-42413332962296643682018-10-10T20:00:00.000+02:002018-11-27T07:48:00.505+01:007 Dance bands<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our first real foray into the professional music world was not exactly a smashing success story. The Lionceaux, a band from Jaunay Clan near Poitiers, played well. We were hired by default, I think, barely passing the audition.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It was a special band, with a rock-oriented repertoire. I had a Rock guitar, a Rock sound, and Rock licks, but I did not have a Rock attitude. Vonvon, bass player and childhood friend of the bandleader’s, had the attitude. Very tight jeans, big belt, small scarf, he had copped all of Jaco Pastorius’ poses and had the same amp: a two-body Acoustic, the heaviest amp on the market.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">For lack of accomodation, Daniel and I stayed at a hotel for the first rehearsals, while the band got the show on track and scouted its first gigs. Marie Christine went back to Cherbourg to resume her job as a hairdresser.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A month later, the bandleader suggests we go and get our stuff from “La Vache Brune" because he has found us a cheap accommodation deal in a castle!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Upon our arrival at “La Vache Brune", with the band’s truck, we were surprised to find that the farm was inhabited. Magribe, generously, had wanted to help some hooligan friends.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">They had ransacked everything, drawn a speech bubble on my big gouache painting of Shakespeare, plundered our discotheque; in short there was not much left to take away besides our two cats and Snoopy, a poor old poodle that we had boarded whose owners (a couple, friends of Magribe, again) had "forgotten" to come back for and that Daniel had grown fond of.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At the castle, in the three rooms we rented from the owner, we started from scratch. Less than scratch, when we found out we also had to pay the bill for the month of boarding at the hotel.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My brother François and his friend Jean Pierre came to see us at the 'Château des Martins' during the Christmas holidays 73, shortly after Marie Christine had returned. I remember my Christmas present very well: <i>Seven</i> by Soft Machine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">There was a strange atmosphere in this 19th century castle built on the outskirts of Poitiers, a heavy atmosphere due in part to the constant presence of the castle owner during the day. A retired military, and alcoholic, he came with the purpose of drinking his two daily bottles of bad wine, leaving his family in their apartment located in a residential area, not far from the castle.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The day we told him that Snoopy was starting to show signs of aggressiveness, he eagerly took aim from a distance and killed it with his rifle, visibly quite pleased with himself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">We couldn’t stay at this improbable, oppressive and almost harmful place for long... In an emergency move, the Lionceaux leader found us a small farm on the opposite side of town, in a locality answering to the charming name of Vendeuvre du Poitou. It must have been blessed with winds of inspiration because in six months I composed twelve pieces including the four-piece suite </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Agréments parfaitement bleus (I, II, III, Épilogue)</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> and the six piece suite </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Périodes Ultérieures, Périodes Antérieures</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">. We also listened to Magma’s <i>Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh</i> and King Crimson’s <i>Red, </i>on a loop as usual.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A dance band, in 73/74, needs at least two singers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The "French singer", whose repertoire covers the full spectrum of French “variété”, although he may have a specialty, Claude François, Mike Brant etc. and an "English singer".</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our "English singer," Jean Marc, was pretty good.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I had to learn a good part of Deep Purple’s repertoire, they were always a hit with the audience. Daniel and I quickly sympathized with Jean Marc. We scoured the local dances from Vendée to Berry.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Another singer, who knew the leader, made his appearance, later. Dan (his nickname) sang Johnny Halliday exclusively, and even imitated his physical and facial expressions to an extent. We weren’t too keen on Johnny at first, but we ended up getting along all right. We were treated to his performances of <i>La musique que j’aime</i>, <i>Le feu</i>, <i>Que je t’aime</i> etc. We learned to be professional dance band musicians.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As we began to settle into the job, the leader distilled disturbing signals. I have since learned to recognize these never varying signals (secret conversations, smug smiles...) They foreshadow a total or partial change of staff.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In the present case: a partial turnover. Vonvon and Dan would stay on.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Marie Christine told me she was pregnant, she would give birth in June. Panic. Jean Marc saved us by welcoming us to his home for three months. Daniel had found a regular gig at La Roche Posay.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Marc. Respect.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Marc lived in Bordeaux, or rather Lormont, in a big low-rent housing tower. Through his connections he soon found a dance gig for me: in Poitiers! My next two bands were to be based in Chatellerault and Chateauroux, which would soon dull my passion for trains.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A dance band’s musician’s rulebook:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Sleep on a foldable bed in the cellar or in a bunk in the truck if we live far away and accommodation is needed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Never eat with Madame Leader.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Never talk about the music we love, or lie outright about it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Don’t expect to stay a member of the band for very long, sneers and smug smiles will let you know when your place is coveted by a friend of Le Chef.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> - Never badmouth competing bands, you will be needing them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">These do not apply on weekdays. We are then free to do what we want, and that is priceless.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In Jean Marc’s immediate entourage was his brother Michel, a renowned band singer, and his great friend Serge K, who played organ in his band. Their record collections contained everything I wanted to discover. Serge had all the Canterbury scene and its avatars, and all of Magma’s records, while Michel owned the masterpieces of the early ECM catalog.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I tried playing with Serge. He is an adorable and funny guy, a composer himself, but something did not click; I had a hard time hearing piano in my music. I still do today.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After my difficulties in the “Centre” region, where I never managed to stay more than six months with the same band, Jean Marc, who played in Brive, heard about a guitar / drums opportunity in a band from Périgueux. This time Daniel and I would fit in quite well.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel quickly left La Roche Posay where he had been unemployed for more than six months and was living precariously to move to a small village in the countryside near Périgueux. Marie Christine, Nicolas and I would stay a little longer in the housing tower "Les Alpilles" in Lormont, where we rented an two-bedroom appartment that we had found after Jean Marc’s rescue.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">April 76. We now lived in a house in Creyssensac et Pissot, a small town 15 kilometers south of Périgueux. Daniel's house was nearby. We were glad to have left the big towerbehind, in which we had lived for a little over a year. Since we had a child now, Mom and Dad helped us move. We rented a small van to carry our few posessions. Dad had a fender bender on his way home in Libourne. His first accident. Every holiday he’d tell us about it – a real traumatism. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Finally we had returned to the countryside and its serenity.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">But our recent past was going to catch up with all three of us, Jean Marc, Daniel and I.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dan, the "Johnny" singer from the Lionceaux, came to Jean Marc’s one day with a project: he was looking for musicians to accompany him for a great gig he had booked, a "gala" in Valence, in the southeast, where he would star. The repertoire would basically include all of Johnny's songs that we played in Poitiers. Daniel and I had never tried to understand how a guy like him, quite the mythomaniac, had come to play in a dance band like ours. Mind you, there’s a crazy Johnny Hallyday or two to be found in any given region.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">There was a rumor that Dan had been in jail.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A big fan of westerns, he one day invited Marie Christine, Daniel and I to his overheated detached house for a TV party. He always wore a white turtleneck and chain-smoked, “American actor" style. His wife was very different from him, a little older, unassuming, having obviously had a complicated life before meeting him. She had two little girls.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When questioned, Dan never answered, he’d just put on a face that meant: "keep talking, little pricks, you do not know life" ... In fact he impressed us a bit. He liked being something of a mystery.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Valence project became clearer, all the musicians were on board. Jean Marc on backing vocals, the bassist and keyboardist / saxophonist from the Périgueux dance band, Daniel and myself. Dan had promised good pay… The fateful day arrived. We did not rehearse. We were supposed to chose and rehearse the repertoire in the bus. The gall!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Pickup time. The musicians from Périgueux had gathered early in the morning at the keyboardist’s place. Up came a "Chausson" bus from Poitiers with its two drivers and Dan in front, beaming with pride and all smiles. We had arranged to bring along our women and children, lending a sense of “California hippiness” to the trip.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The crossing of the Massif Central was strenuous but joyful, without our going over the show nor the repertoire. We'll see ... Tensions began to show.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Suburbs of Valence, late afternoon. The bus came to a stop in front of a shabby and deserted gymnasium, with no one there to welcome the troops. Inside the gymnasium, a stage and a hundred chairs which, in the evening, were to remain empty. Dan’s only words: we won’t play, I don’t want to pay the Sacem!* </span></span><span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Besides, what could we have played?</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;">*French Authors' Rights Society</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">After these words he sank into complete muteness, curled up on the first passenger seat, and buried his head in his white turtleneck. The two drivers then decided to immediately get out of this quagmire, without eating, thus taking charge, with Dan’s wife, of our distraught troupe. A deathly silence in the bus, an exhausting and icy crossing of the Massif Central. End of journey. We never heard of Dan again. We never knew his real name, either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">With the Périgueux dance band we gigged every week end, which gave us relative financial stability. We were paid 180 F per event, each event giving the right to a “vignette”. We managed to make a total of 1400 F per month, minimum wage at that time was about 1550 F. We absolutely needed 12 vignettes per quarter to claim social security and family benefits. This time around Daniel and I always had the requisite count.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In its ranks, this band had a singer, sister to the lead singer, and a trumpet player, friends with the lead singer. They all came from Bordeaux. The lead singer lived in the heart of the Bacalan district, home to the docks and warehouses of the port of Bordeaux. It often happened that he would offer us implausible things from the black market. One day, with his sister’s help, he brought a turkey to a bingo party we were playing in a remote corner of Corrèze! The winners did not claim their prize. Imagine the drive home...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Musically, the female vocalist helped us expand the band’s repertoire - Nicoletta and Annie Cordy, for example. Of course she and her brother sang </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>J’ai encore rêvé d’elle</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> as a duet, a very popular song in '75, the trumpet player performed the trumpet solo from <i>L'Été indien</i> and Jean Claude Borelly’s instrumental hit <i>Dolannes melody</i> as best he could - he was not really a professional. The song from that period I preferred playing was Christophe's </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Les mots bleus</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">, I don’t know why. Daniel and I stayed close to three years in this band, we felt relatively safe.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">The dance band of Périgueux. The chief is well demarcated from musicians. Our stage costumes cost us a fortune. The red shirts were satin. Little coquetry, that of the chief had a white border at the neck.The special feature of satin is that it is very cold to wear in winter and favors sweat dripping in summer, it does not sponge. It never occurred to me to take a picture of the lengthened J7 that contained us all. The fact that it never cut itself in two is a miracle.</span></td></tr>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-74860240201401656682018-10-10T10:00:00.000+02:002018-11-12T16:30:43.315+01:008 Noëtra<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">From 73 to the end of 1975 I had accumulated a rather large number of manuscripts that I wanted to bring to life, or at least hear. I could not sing all the parts at the same time. I needed a band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I had the drummer, I needed a bass player. During a stay in Granville, I went to see Denis, the bassist who had played Luisances at La Vache Brune. He still lived with his parents in Villedieu les Poêles, 30 kilometres from Granville, I flat out asked him to join us. Guess what ? He said yes. I do not remember helping Denis to get installed when he arrived in Dordogne. He arranged everything alone. His job, his house, everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Denis. Respect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Denis personifies the beginnings of Noëtra. Nice, sweet, somewhat moody. Perpetual questioning and indecision are part of his life. Musically, he has good time, can sight read and has a very nice sound, whatever the bass. A valuable quality.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">He had a little background in visual arts, his room was cluttered with cardboard boxes full of colored pencil sketches and drawings in a rather round and pop style. Several times a week he pondered whether to be serious about music or drawing. He’d even ask us "what do you think?", which would put us in an awkward position. We owe him the only poster ever made for Noëtra.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I can see you smile to that name. Well, no, the band’s name is not mine. It came from Magribe. He had already found the name at “la Vache Brune", it was now high time we used it. Later on, he suggested an appendix, a maxim: Noëtra, the Music of Flaming Water. He also suggested some track titles he came up with as he listened to us: Orge Dais Jadis, Sommeil Ovale, <a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/soir-et-basalte" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Soir et Basalte</a>… I retained some of them. The other purveyor of titles for Noëtra was François. I owe him: Mort du Hêtre, <a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/pr-tendre-sen-d-tacher" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">À Prétendre S’en Détacher</a>, <a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/sens-de-lapr-s-midi" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Sens De l’Après Midi</a> and <a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/qui-est-il-qui-parle-ainsi" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Qui Est Il Qui Parle Ainsi ?</a> I never understood why all his paintings are <i><a href="http://www.francoislapouge.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Untitled</a></i> - he is obviously talented ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We began to rehearse at Denis’ place, a hundred meters from home, in a house he had found to rent in the village of Creyssensac.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The peculiarity of the houses we all rented was that they were without any comfort. OK, running water and toilets inside, sometimes a bathroom, mostly without a shower. The pick of the lot was Daniel's house. It was at the end of a winding path in the middle of a pine wood that was a good kilometre long. At night, when the Dance bandleader would drive us home, the pine needles would sweep endlessly by in the J7’s headlights. How he put up with this for so long is a mystery. Daniel learned to drive first, thankfully. He soon bought a 2CV van. His house was in poor condition, damp and full of saltpetre, with mice running everywhere, especially in the sideboard (it was a furnished rental). There was also a bed with a bedstead that he sometimes had to move to avoid water leaks in stormy weather. There was only one room and a kitchen, a corner of which was occupied by the drumset. Daniel stayed more than ten years in that house. It was his paradise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I dreamed of having an oboe in the band. As we know, I played the oboe myself, badly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The resemblance to Soft Machine is obvious, although I do not like the sound of Carl Jenkins' oboe in Soft Machine's records. The mic’s placement, very close to the instrument’s bocal, does not help, making for a skimpy sound. Later, when I took an interest in sound recording, I would find the right mic placement for the reproduction of all the instrument’s harmonics, inspired by a photo of Oregon in concert. My reference works regarding orchestration in general were the classical music records that mom listened to in Dad's office...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Denis tells me he has heard of an oboist who simultaneously takes classes at the conservatory in Rennes and plays in a rock band. He could manage to get his address.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A cassette with one or two tracks hastily recorded during rehearsal convinced Christian Paboeuf, since that is his name, to join us. Denis and I will go pick him up in Rennes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Christian will move to Denis' house in April 77.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Noëtra’s core was born: Jean, Daniel, Denis and Christian. A particular alchemy, a balance. Denis and Christian got along very well. Being of a more random nature, their finances were more precarious than that of the band’s first pair. They also created a small network of different friends. We now rehearsed at Denis and Christian's place, a hundred metres from my home, in the village of Creyssensac.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Musically, Christian is a born improviser. A multi instrumentalist: oboe, all recorders, guitar, then later, as needs arose, percussion and vibraphone. Much later, his creativity would explode on this last instrument. We were to become very close. A friendship that, forty years later, is still going strong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When we first met, Christian had a rather frail physique, as evidenced by the few pictures taken at that time. Often we were afraid his instrument would escape him for sheer emotional overspill. It never happened. He had a little dog named Ion, whose name expressed his admiration for the band Yes. Christian liked theatricality in music, as in Genesis or David Bowie. He also took up drawing, especially in pencil. Christian is part of my present (2018), which goes to show the importance of our relations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">During our first rehearsals together, we started to play my most recent ideas. One that comes to mind is the central loop of <i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/lisi-re-pourpre" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Lisière Pourpre</a></i> (January 77). This loop sounded great, in the spirit of King Crimson’s <i>Red</i>, Christian was inspired, Daniel was playing "à la Bruford". The theme, however, was lacking in substance. I would have liked a violin to double the oboe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Chance would decide otherwise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Michel L., the singer, Jean Marc’s brother, had begun learning the flute. I had made friends with Michel. Michel has a wonderful rock culture. An avid buyer of records, he also loved musical conversations. A good thing, as I am myself rather talkative on the subject. I felt very good with Michel; whenever I talked to him about my work, about my projects, he expressed interest and always sent me positive feedback. I also made him laugh a lot with my dance band anecdotes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I asked him if he would like to play flute with the band. Michel came from Bordeaux to rehearse with us every Friday. This Friday ritual was to become sacred throughout Noëtra's life, and even afterwards. As a result, the theme of Lisière Pourpre - the title is from Michel – gained substance. The idea of the violin had not been abandoned yet, Michel even came to rehearsal one day with Pierre Blanchard, a budding young violinist, to present him to us. We played together for that rehearsal but we did not see him again. We had nothing to offer him, professionally.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jazz-wise, Michel introduced me, again thanks to his record collection, to the aesthetics of European jazz which was blossoming, in particular, on the German labels; I was content to follow my favorite musicians by buying, when I could, their productions. The purchase of Robert Fripp / Brian Eno's No Pussy Footing was decisive, not so much in terms of music as in the reading of the liner notes and the list of gear used: 2 modified Revox A77 Tape recorders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Maybe I had found the solution for listening to and documenting our work in the long run. With hope, the tape recorders used by our two heroes would not be out of financial range and not too "modified"!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Soon, a Revox A77 tape recorder was to sit, for a long time, on the most prominent piece of furniture in the living room, a sort of of secretary/filing cabinet repainted in blood red.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I chose the 2 track model, 19 cm / second, obviously twice less greedy in magnetic tapes as the 38 cm / second. Those tapes cost a fortune!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Learning to use the Revox was like learning anything else: through trial and error. The leaking of sound from one instrument into the sound of another instrument became an obsession. Fortunately, in the A77’s manual was the heading: Re-recording.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This stratagem would be my grail. We could record the sound of an instrument, play it back while recording another instrument, suddenly: no more sound leaks! What holds true for one instrument also holds true for a group of instruments. Now you know how we made the Noëtra recordings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The basic technique was understood, it remained to be improved so as to achieve audible results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The band was making progress too, undeniably.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Michel, according to some members of the band, was progressing at a lesser rate. It is true that learning an instrument as an adult takes a lot of time... Were we really in a hurry?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One could theorize about the existence, the life and death of a band. Others have certainly done so. I will simply recall these simple rules: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- When a band is searching for itself (musically), the weakest link gets the hardest hits.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">- All members of the band are subject to the tough game of alliances.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Michel had to leave. Who would be the messenger? As in school, the class representative. A frightful responsibility, because Michel was my friend. But the band, the superior entity, had settled the question, there was no way out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After that there was a deep cold spell between Bordeaux and me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The Band must go on. Six months later Dominique Busson joined us. I knew Dominique from my stint in the second dance band in the Centre region. The one from Châtellerault. Not the worst, humanly. He too was very interested in the band’s musical direction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dominique is a clarinetist, flutist and saxophonist. The dream man for a composer who loves wind instruments. Thanks to our progress in the handling of the Revox, recordings were beginning to sound ok.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LcT9tIsKZ_c/W-ktp_9isII/AAAAAAAAAR0/DiRGbiFmTOYSp2xOERNR-MZBVB8vqxfeQCLcBGAs/s1600/Noe%25CC%2588tra-Dominique-et-Jean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="865" height="280" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LcT9tIsKZ_c/W-ktp_9isII/AAAAAAAAAR0/DiRGbiFmTOYSp2xOERNR-MZBVB8vqxfeQCLcBGAs/s400/Noe%25CC%2588tra-Dominique-et-Jean.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Marie Christine and I now had two children, Nicolas and Hugues. Life flowed, peaceful, conducive to the music I wanted to achieve. Could I have conceived the same music in a big city? Probably not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We had good relations with our landlords, who were immediate neighbors. They offered to lend us one of their barns for our rehearsals. The location of the barn formed an equilateral triangle one hundred meters from Denis / Christian’s house and ours. We called it a barn for convenience, but in fact it must have been a dwelling house a long time ago. The floor was cemented, there was a window and, fortunately, electricity. We learned to guard against summer storm floodings by raising the instruments and the cables. Other than that, some basic fixing up such as putting egg cartons on the walls and installing a bad wood stove allowed us to settle in in relative comfort. The front door, made of large slats of chestnut wood nailed together, typical of the region, let drafts flow through. It locked with a huge key. The lock could have been fractured by a good screwdriver, a threat to our gear, the only objects of value inside. I had built two PA speakers, inspired by an Altec / Lansing cabinet bought by Denis. I was very proud to have managed to build in the characteristic roundings of this kind of speaker cabinet, that project the sound so well. This “DIY solution to everything” proudness would unfortunately later reveal its limits… For now this barn will be Noëtra’s theater of operations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In a play, you need a hero who appears in all the acts. We already had our hero.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">One winter evening, at well past 11PM, Marie Christine and I heard a knock at the front door of our house. Guess who was on the doorstep? Magribe and his girlfriend, back from a season of apple picking in Canada. They had found our address and had nowhere to go… Remembering Jean Marc’s generosity, we opened our house to them until they found a solution. We know how resourceful Magribe is, and they soon found one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe and Marie Claude quickly set up a small macramé jewelry making workshop, bracelets, pendants, necklaces, etc. that they sold on the markets. They even hired Christian when he was struggling to make ends meet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Magribe also acted as our road manager, at that time he had a small van that came in handy for our local “rehearsal” concerts and also for our out of département concerts such as in Caudéran, a suburb of Bordeaux, where we shared the bill with Xalph, or Angoulême, Brive la Gaillarde etc ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The band rehearsed four days a week in the barn. Magribe participated in his own way by taking care of the sound and the crafting of electronic and electrical cables of all kinds. He was always there, like the rest of us, at eight o'clock in the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Today I remember these times as relatively happy ones. The outside world was erased. We had few obligations, no fixed hours during the day, the children were not schooled yet. Every day was alike. In the morning I rehearsed with the band, in the afternoon I played the guitar, trying to spark new ideas or improving weaker passages in certain compositions. I also took advantage of chance ideas that arose during rehearsals when we made mistakes. Often, at the end of summer afternoons, we’d all meet at Lake Neuf Font, ten kilometers away, for a swim. It was a fruitful period, I was entirely tuned into writing new material.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">For example :</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/neuf-songes" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Neuf Songes</a></i>, December 77</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/galopera" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Galopera</a></i>, February 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/soir-et-basalte" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Soir et Basalte</a></i>, May 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/alpha-du-centaure" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Alpha du Centaure</a></i>, June 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Timothée</i>, August 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/m-sopotamie" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Mésopotamie</a></i>, October 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/le-voyageur-gar-se-noie-incognito" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Le voyageur Égaré se Noie Incognito</a></i>, October 78</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Intense listening of progressive music, post-Miles Davis jazz and classical music from the late 19th and early 20th century, made for a fruitful balance and kept my brain alert. Stravinsky’s Mass for Wind Quintet in Leonard Bernstein's version was a timely discovery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The recordings were going well too, although our Freevox mixer was not great, nor were our microphones. Our equipment, apart from the Revox, was that of a budding amateur band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">This period is documented in the "Recording sessions Timeline" as Tape No. I. The band, nevertheless, was making progress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A new concept appeared in our criteria: improvisation. Analysing the first Eberhard Weber records was clearly for something there. Saxophonist Charlie Mariano’s fluidity fascinated us. Christian and I began to dissect this new aspect of music: the mental and technical construction of jazz improvisation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Dominique did not follow us on that quest, time has blurred my memory of the circumstances in which he left. Magribe drifted away too, often feeling useless in our passionate musical debates.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The band was on its way to professionnalisation.</span><br />
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-16319056544494596422018-10-10T09:30:00.000+02:002019-04-11T11:04:35.660+02:009 Klaus Blasquiz<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The purchase of a good sound system, with my parents’ help, was a decisive step. We would even manage to reimburse them - well, almost. The gear included a TEAC eight track mixer. A marvel, a jewel. I now had headroom, colour, everything one could dream of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The new saxophonist / flutist Daniel had recruited improvised really well, we felt confident. I would record drums, bass and guitar together on one track. Daniel, Denis and I were extremely good at this game. We had to anticipate nuance, structure, etc. I noticed that I had to slightly overload the red light of the tape recorder’s VU meters to give strength to the rhythm section in anticipation of bouncing tracks. Go too far, we’d saturate the track…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Depending on the compositions I’d then overdub the other instruments on a second pass, the third pass being devoted to solos. The biggest difficulty was mixing. Once each pass was recorded, there was no going back. Even the last instruments had to be mixed in real time. All this with headphones set very loud to avoid being influenced by the direct sound of the instruments in the room. Luck and a good dose of intuition were to become very important factors in the process.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Reel #2 came to life following these principles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">When choosing tracks to record, the band always favored the most recent ones, but would sometimes wish to give a second chance to a badly recorded old piece, or one that had been reworked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Printemps Noir</i> is perhaps the best example. Composed in 73, it was quickly chosen to be recorded with the new Revox technique.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hence, its prominent position on tape No. 1.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We had rehearsed it for a concert with Francis Michaud, the new saxophonist recruited by Daniel.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His personal interpretation of the themes, the energy and the jazzy ideas<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he came up with on the simple bass line in<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the central improvisation convinced us to re-record it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The result was not up to our expectations, something was wrong in the overall sound which we couldn't put our finger on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This version would later not be chosen for release...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Alpha du centaure</i> and <i>Venise</i>, in fourth and sixth positions on the final track list, have a different story.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Freshly composed, their peculiarity was in using Christian's talent on the guitar.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had bought a beautiful Gibson Les Paul sunburst which he was very proud of.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In concert he played the accompaniment parts exactly as we hear them on the tape.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had recorded his comping parts as the framework for the Revox session.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Oboe-less, and very guitar-oriented, these two tracks may have more of a rock sound.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">On <i>Alpha du centaure</i> we went a step further in sophistication.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I wanted a C note held all the way through the second part. On Daniel’s violin this C seemed very thin compared to what I heard in my head.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The idea of <span class="s1"></span>playing successive layers of C’s with an overdriven guitar sound, à la Robert Fripp, was to give a much better result. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pre-recorded and played back by another tape deck,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the pedal note was included in the last track bounce and voilà.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">At this stage of our evolution, I felt we were on to something. I had to find a way to make our music known. There was no hope looking to regional government for help, our ignorance in local administration was abysmal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">That left us with what we thought of as our world, that of record companies and concerts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Concerts. I had seen quite a few. Soft Machine in Caen in 72, Soft Machine, again, at the Bataclan in Paris with Magribe and Daniel in 73.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">In Bordeaux, with Michel, I saw Henry Cow, McCoy Tyner, Chick Corea, Terje Rypdal, Soft Machine with Allan Holdsworth, Yochk'o Seffer, Magma, three times ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Approaching Magma seemed appropriate. I had read here and there that Klaus Blasquiz was getting into producing. A Magma concert in Limoges provided me with the opportunity to hand our favorite singer a cassette tape of Reel #2.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">As for record companies, I had an idea. We could organize a trip to Paris using my uncle’s house (the Versailles station Head who lived in Fontenay Le Fleury), as a base.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Off we went, Marie Christine, Daniel and I, in our 2cv6. I had picked up some addresses in the phone directory. Famous ones, Barclay, CBS France etc. We had made no appointments, as we had no phone at home! As you can imagine, we didn’t even get past reception. Fortunately I had taken care to note some less prestigious addresses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">At last a "record dealer-musician-producer" kindly received us in the back of his shop and listened to the tape with us. He listened all the way through, and said: I can’t do much for you, but this music could be of interest to ECM!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Back home, our Parisian escapade had left us in a deep disarray. The group was bogged down. We rehearsed with no concerts in view. Daniel, in particular, was becoming very critical of our operating method.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Klaus Blasquiz' answer to my tape, which I received in June 79, would change nothing ... for Daniel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">It would however give me some keys for moving forward. The attentive reading of the letter comforted me in my role as a composer. I knew my music was growing, my densely orchestrated scores getting increasingly complex. To achieve this density I used the multi-instrumental talents of some of the musicians. Daniel performed the violin parts. They were not on par with his drumming. Ditto for Denis with his euphonium. Christian’s recorders, on the other hand, were already very beautiful, and were an important part of the band’s sound.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">In the future, every instrument must be beyond reproach. I began to plan what would become Reel #3.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel tells me he wants to leave the band. The scene takes place near the barn, where we cut wood in winter for our stove. He told me he was tired of rehearsing for nothing, which I understood. I could not hold back my tears. Daniel remained impassive. I remembered his mother talking about her son and his toughness: Daniel; dry heart, didn’t even cry at his father’s funeral, dry heart! I managed to make a deal with him. Could he not wait until we finished Reel #3 before leaving?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">My choice of orchestration for this tape was geared towards classical music instruments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was confident in the violin, clarinet and oboe working together, and thought that ‘cello and trombone would best complement the guitar's midrange base.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I wanted, without making any concession, to get closer to my idea of a chamber orchestra’s sound.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My ambition had no concern for the level of difficulty in playing this music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The fact that Christian and Denis supported me in this process proved their faith in what we were doing - which amazes me today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the time I had not taken the measure of that faith.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So we began moving heaven and earth in search of the right musicians, those who would commit to complying with our requirements.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Recruiting Pierre Aubert on the violin was a great move for us all. An outstanding musician, Pierre has a great sense of dramaturgy in the development of his choruses. Having learned jazz with Didier Levallet, he is armed to play in difficult harmonic situations; on this Reel, however, he was restricted to orchestral parts only.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">His talent would burst and be very precious later on ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Not unlike a film director, I had set everything up to perform a synopsis written in advance, the complexity of the scores requiring some rigor. Technically I had found a trick that would give a professional touch to all the tracks. I plugged the spring reverb of my Fender Twin into the TEAC mixer. The effect was striking! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">This effect is highlighted in the sound effects at the beginning of Neuf Songes. The violin / guitar loop had been recorded on the first track. Our rehearsal room provided us with a catalog of noises: slamming the front door, moving an ashtray on the floor, all sorts of squeaking from mic stands, rustling paper near the mics, pounding on an old frying pan, and, as a climax, glass panes found on location, smashed by Denis. Only one take for that one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Generally, for this tape, we enrolled the musicians according to the planned overdubs. Most often two by two, gaining in quality without increasing the risk of flubbing. Everything went according to schedule.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The end of December 79 saw the final clap on Reel # 3. I felt, listening to the result, that we had taken a great step forward. Notwithstanding, Daniel would leave.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I was very much affected by Daniel's departure. Without him, it was as if the band no longer existed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">In addition, because of its sophistication, performing the music from Reel # 3 in anticipation of future concerts could now prove very difficult. To be faithful to the arrangements, it would take at least seven musicians. Only much later did I learn to reduce a score. For now, we were at a dead end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">It is in this context that in February 1980 I received the letter from Klaus Blasquiz, written with a red marker. I had of course sent him the result of our work shortly before Christmas. I cannot resist the pleasure of quoting him:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Paris, February 25, 1980</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"> MR Jean Lapouge</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"> What a surprise ! Things are going as</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">in a dream; all my regrets</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">are dissipated and my hopes have come alive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">To be clear and precise without</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">going into details (which</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">concern you) I only have one thing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">to say: what a surprise!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">As far as I'm concerned, I’ve only to </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">wrap up all current productions</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">and if you are still ok </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I will contact you in a few months to </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">get a record on track. In the meantime,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">please let me know if you get </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">professional leads </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">elsewhere.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">See you soon</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"> KLAUS</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Not a bad letter of encouragement for a no longer existing band.</span></div>
Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-35038904909639696062018-10-10T09:00:00.000+02:002019-02-11T12:23:42.628+01:0010 ECM<style type="text/css">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The tape that had triggered Klaus Blasquiz’ enthusiasm was comprised of five pieces: the suite: <i>Mésopotamie - Le Voyageur Égaré se Noie Incognito - Reprise Mésopotamie; Neuf Songes; Soir et Basalte; Errance;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Résurgence d’ Errance.</i> I never tired of listening to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When the answer arrived I was very happy but not really surprised. In this moment of euphoria I even had a reaction that I now regret, and that would cost us dearly; why not reach higher? Remembering the suggestion of the musician / producer who had listened to our second tape, I mentally began to prepare a shipment to ECM.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>ECM – for me, the ultimate consecration.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I had a good deck for making a cassette copy, and the beautiful group photo taken by François in our barn, the one where we see the band in full rehearsal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The introductory letter was written in good English by an English teacher, a relation of Christian’s or Denis', I can’t remember... Everything was quite professional.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After tape n ° 3 our musical life had come to a standstill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Daniel had left us, and rehearsing as a trio did not make much sense.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I took advantage of this free time to compose,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>luckily ideas flowed ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The dance gigs also kept on, differently.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Daniel and I had lived through that first band’s decay, from its litany of innuendo to its inevitable end.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were not loathe to leave the rotten J7, nicknamed "the livestock truck" for good reason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The J7 had been lengthened and divided into three parts: the driving cabin (three seats), the gear platform in the back, the musicians’ quarters (five seats) in the middle. This module had the advantage of converting into berths for the drive home when we played away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was only one drawback: you couldn’t be claustrophobic. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Through the open side door, two musicians (often Daniel and I) had to crawl onto a slab of foam. Then an MDF board slid into place over them, allowing another layer of foam to accommodate the remaining musicians.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With the side door closed, no one could move!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One beautiful winter morning, as I tried to contort myself out of ‘bed’, I encountered resistance: my hair was stuck by the frost against the wall of the truck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">With the next orchestra things were more comfortable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had a better reputation too.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was rising in rank.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The musicians were better.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I took the opportunity to upgrade my gear and bought my Fender Twin Reverb, the legendary guitar amp of reference.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In my new orchestra there were two singers, of course: Siegfried, the “French” singer, from Bordeaux, very funny, a Michel Polnareff specialist, his hit number was Lettre à France. Pat, the “English” singer, Parisian, curly-haired, long-limbed, specialty : Paul McCartney, sang Wings hits and some Beatles tunes that I loved to play, including <i>Drive my car</i>. These two could practically sing everything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In their version of Elton John and Kiki Dee’s <i>Don’t Go Breaking My Heart</i> (Siegfried did Kiki Dee’s part because he sang so high), they were incomparable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The orchestra had a good local reputation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Later, Pat would bring in "his" bassist from Paris, who later became my best friend before committing suicide in '91.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our long eclectic conversations in the truck had the knack of annoying our star singer and making him jealous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In ‘79 Pat went to try his luck in Belgium where he had found a disco producer ready to invest in him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In ‘81, we learned, like everyone else, that "our" Pat had become Patrick Hernandez, a disco singer - of worldwide renown this time, thanks to his hit <i>Born to Be Alive</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">ECM’s first letter arrived in March of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>‘80. The cassette had arrived damaged, prolonging the suspense …<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The second letter arrived in April.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had the merit of being very clear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As I read it a sense of pride invaded me, as did a feeling of fear ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">How can I explain the situation?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their catalog was really very impressive, very much focused on jazz, too jazz-focused for us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the French press Manfred Eicher had the reputation of being a cold interventionist monster: what would become of my songs?Would they be subjected to the ECM grinder?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No, I shall resist …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In my mind everything was confused, complicated.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I delayed answering.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Another letter arrived, more insistent, forcing me into action.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">First, get an answer to ECM.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Quickly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We can’t miss out on such an opportunity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Make an appointment by phone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Easier said than done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Fortunately, I have a bit of history with English. I like the language, I was average in high school, not bad (12/20 on my final oral exam).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had been to England twice, the first time at the end of sixth grade thanks to a Valognes / Bournemouth exchange .<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I stayed in contact with Tom, my correspondent, for a long time, so my parents offered me a second trip during the Christmas holidays of my junior year.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had to take the ferry in Le Havre. My parents invited Tom to spend a fortnight in France during the following holidays.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">On my return, on the misty quays of Le Havre, I was approached by a traveller-type individual; he asked me to help him because he was a little short on cash to get home. I recognized him a year later: it was Magribe, unforgettable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">So here I was in front of a telephone booth at the post office in Vergt, my county town, waiting my turn for the most important call of my life as a musician ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The appointment was slated for June.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It gave me little time to prepare more songs, which the label had insisted on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wanted to go all out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Emphasizing the chamber music side seemed like a good option.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>François particularly liked this aspect of my work.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had begun to work on an arrangement of the six-piece sequence <i>Périodes Ultérieures, Périodes Antérieures</i>, composed at Vendeuvre du Poitou and renamed <i>Périodes I, II, III, IV, V, VI</i>: an austere title for serious music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Instrumentation: classical guitar, oboe, violin, viola and cello.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I decided to record this suite in the living room of our house, where I actually worked every day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It seemed to me that the acoustics would be more conducive to chamber music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>True to the two by two technique, I recorded the guitar and oboe together on the first track.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The violin, viola and cello would be added later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The other tracks on Tape 4 would be recorded in the same way as those on Tape 3.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The tape was finished just in time for the appointment, with a feeling of duty well done.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I got very good feedback from the musicians themselves, and especially from François, who considered this tape to be my best work yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">And now, to honor the rendez-vous.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The beautiful picture of François in the shipment for ECM</span></td></tr>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-41519710718108122422018-10-10T08:30:00.000+02:002019-04-11T11:08:57.270+02:0011 Munich<style type="text/css">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I was in Gräfelfing, in the suburbs of Munich, before an office door with the three little silver letters, at ten o'clock in the morning, right on time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A secretary ushers me in, coffee, tea? They welcomed me warmly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was in a small business office with nice and caring people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Just a few intimidating details:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the prestigious names of Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea, Jack Dejohnette, Dave Holland... labeled on files stored on shelves and, especially, a few record sleeves of LPs in progress, trailing prominently on the carpet (Pat Metheny 80/81, RalphTowner Solstice sound and Shadows ...) indicated that we were in the office of a record company - and not just any record company.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From the office windows you could see an Eight-lane highway to the left, heading south; and to the right a large field bordering a forest of tall fir trees that reminded one of the visual aesthetics of the beginnings of the label: the contrast was striking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">There was the english language problem but Manfred Eicher's assistant, Hans Wendl, spoke French and helped me a lot.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a preamble they told me that we were the first French group to be contacted by them and that France was the most important country in terms of sales, after Germany of course; then I got a lot of questions from Eicher:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">- Was I in contact with other record companies,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">- How was ECM perceived in France,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">- My relationship with the Parisian music scene... that he did not seem to like so much; and then more personal questions:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">- What I thought of Keith Jarrett,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">- My Steve Reich influence (I did not know him!) etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">At no time did I feel out of place. They told me they wanted to open up to other musical styles, including rock.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I took the opportunity to get the new tape out of my bag, which was immediately put onto the Revox and listened to religiously.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">First piece: <i>À Prétendre S’en Détacher</i>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Eicher: beautiful piece, small cross in front of the title.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Next two tracks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No cross.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Eicher: strong piece, very good piece, ... the end, I'm not sure! Small cross anyway in front of the title.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Périodes</i>: we listen for ten seconds and Eicher suddenly stops the magneto: too french!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">This guy is really unpredictable!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I tell him that I have the reel of the previous tape that I had sent them on cassette. He immediately asks his assistant to make a copy of it, rushes to the Revox, installs the reel himself and begins a monologue with the music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Impressive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The <i>Voyageur</i>'s trombone glissandos snatched a smile from him. When my overdubbed harmonics appeared in the intro to <i>Soir et Basalte</i>, I got a compliment: very professional!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The climax was reached with <i>Neuf Songes</i>. He was captivated by the sound effects in the introduction, he jumped at each new sound, asking me details on how they were achieved.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He must have listened to the song many times, as he knew the structure - which, by the way, he wanted to change (we can do a lot of things in the studio!) He wanted more repetitive patterns “à la Steve Reich” at the beginning etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">In the end almost all the tracks, except one, found favor in his eyes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can still see the little crosses on the back of the magnetic tape’s cardboard box.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On the last piece, <i>Résurgence d’Errance</i>, I confessed that the theme reminds me of Oregon. "Yes Oregon are good but they’re almost too clean ..." How do you want to keep your feet on the ground after that!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">He tells me that the recording session should take place in October or November in Ludwigsburg, near Stuttgart, in the famous studio of sound engineer Martin Wieland, well known to fans of the label.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">End of the interview.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">It was one o'clock in the afternoon, Hans, the assistant, took me to a restaurant / pizzeria not far from the office that seemed to be the ECM canteen because we found some of the staff there; Steve Lake, in particular, who had stayed quiet during the interview and who now took an interest in me in a more casual manner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I knew he was English and pressed him with questions about Soft Machine, who he knew very well, having been a “Melody Maker” music critic during the most interesting period of their career.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Manfred Eicher came in for coffee, didn’t order one, absent, in his thoughts...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Back to Gräfelfing station with Hans, who gave me two records lying in his car: Sam Rivers <i>Contrasts</i> and Kenny Wheeler <i>Around Six</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">On the station platform, while waiting for the Gräfelfing / Munich shuttle, I experienced a moment of extreme depth and serenity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was very hot; I had a strange feeling, as if I had reached the end of something rather than the beginning of something: I could die.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whatever happened next, nothing could take away this experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Back in France, I phoned Granville and dad picked up the receiver. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<li class="li1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The German record company are taking us!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I tell him that ECM is the equivalent of Gallimard for jazz musicians around the world!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The Lapouge’s express their feelings quietly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I had no trouble gathering the musicians again after the interview with Manfred Eicher.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Daniel pretended he had never left the group.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The ECM affair was making its way around.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I received a visit from Maurice Fari aka "Momo", with whom I had played in my last dance band but who was mainly the drummer for Xalph, the well-known band from Bordeaux; he came to find out for himself if all this was really true... I imagine that the musical Bordeaux Who’s who was in turmoil.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Comical situations were arising from all this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean Marc invited me to his house, as usual, but this time Philippe Cauvin was there, guitarist for the band Uppsala, also from Bordeaux - he came to ask me for ECM’s address and phone number: if Noëtra had managed to interest ECM, then they, Uppsala would be taken right away…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Even in my own ranks some musicians from the outer circle were circumspect.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pascal Leberre, our clarinetist, had to wait until I got my personal phone line to hear Hans Wendl's voice in my earpiece.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I came back from Munich quite disturbed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I had very few musical indications from Manfred Eicher, except for the repetitive patterns for Neuf Songes that I quickly wrote and recorded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My recording process was getting to be very good. There was no reason for me to change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I now recorded the songs as they came.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">ECM wanted to see us play live.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Obviously.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Playing live was our Achilles heel!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I knew that the standard for them was to record an album in two days and mix it in one!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had read this several times in jazz magazines, from ECM artist interviews.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That is already quite difficult for a regular band, so imagine what it could be for an inexistent one...<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I still have nightmares!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Despite all this, we started to plan rehearsals to build our repertoire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We didn’t do too bad.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I regained confidence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Noëtra was now a group of eight musicians, pure madness: guitar, oboe / recorder, violin, clarinet / saxophone, cello, trombone / guitar, bass and drums. The rehearsals became an organizational puzzle, and we could not pay outside musicians, only host them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We needed concerts, urgently!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But eight-piece bands don’t find concerts at the snap of a finger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Since I now had a telephone at home I asked Hans for bookers’ addresses in Paris. He gave me the phone number of their Parisian contact, Martin Messonier, who was about to leave them to take care of Fela's career.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Obviously this guy did not help me at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Once again we would have to do everything ourselves.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Find the concert venue, organize everything and hope that there will be enough of an audience to cover the costs...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">In the meantime I recorded some tracks - not the worst in my opinion: <i>Sens de l’après midi, Tintamarre,</i> without Daniel, to see ... and <i>Transparences</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Sens de l’Après Midi</i> highlighted Pascal Leberre’s playing in the great concertante clarinet part underlying the whole piece;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thanks to track bouncing, we also had his soprano saxophone on the bridge and the finale.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Tintamarre</i> had an ambitious score: trumpet, trombone and tenor saxophone. The re-recording technique, once again, allowed Pascal to move from tenor saxophone to soprano saxophone for the central improvisation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I had a hard time accepting <i>Tintamarre</i>. I thought we were too much under the influence of John McLaughlin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I remembered very well what Manfred Eicher had said when I cited McLaughlin as a major influence; he did not like Mahavishnu Orchestra’s jazz rock at all. So I did not dare send this piece to the ECM headquarters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">As for <i>Sens de l’Après Midi</i> and <i>Transparences</i>, they were never acknowledged.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">On a voting day at the town hall of Creyssensac, Marie Christine and I had met a couple of music lovers and audiophiles living not far from home. Christian and Corinne Gerhards would soon become friends.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They had a high-end hi-fi system.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I used to go to their place to show them our latest recordings; listening to our work on their system allowed me to check the quality of our recording chops.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their LP and cassette collection was huge. Christian turned me on to two records that were to become important in my musical development, <i>Tales of Another</i> by Gary Peacock and <i>Changes</i> by Keith Jarrett.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He would also write the beautiful liner notes for the Noëtra <a href="https://jeanlapouge-english.blogspot.com/2018/10/christian-gerhards-swan-song-noetra.html" target="_blank">"<i>Live 83</i>"</a> CD, released in 2010.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Finally I managed to organize a concert in view of recording it and sending it to Munich.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">They found the <a href="https://jeanlapouge-english.blogspot.com/2018/10/annex-1-cursed-cassette.html" target="_blank">tape</a> not good at all, and were very disappointed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The dream ended abruptly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Fortunately, before the collapse, I had the energy to program the recording of <i>Printemps Noir</i> and <i>Qui Est Il Qui Parle Ainsi? III</i>;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>tracks that represent the culmination of the recording technique I had developed with my good old Revox!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Printemps Noir</i> was once more rejuvenated with new arrangements, including Pierre on the violin playing the first voice and, especially, a great first take solo by Jacques Nobili, a trombonist from La Rochelle’s "free jazz" scene, recommended by Pierre.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Qui Est Il Qui Parle Ainsi ? s</i>howcased Christian’s oboe, serving as a jewelbox for an absolutely masterful solo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">I sent ECM this session before the fatal cassette tape.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I phoned them to ask what they thought of it, Hans said they thought it beared too much of a resemblance to Robert Wyatt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Which, for some people, could have been a compliment - but certainly not at ECM, the most uncompromising of record companies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The summer of '81 was really rotten, cold and rainy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">At the beginning of '82, I received a phone call from Vincent, my little brother, who was devastated: Weber had stolen the noises from Neuf Songes!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A big Eberhard Weber fan, he had just bought his last record, Little Movements.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Indeed, on the title track, over a repetitive piano loop, there are sound effects that sound just like those on Neuf Songes. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Sure, they are just sound effects, but still, Manfred Eicher had held out only a month before doing it: my interview was in June ‘80, Weber's recording is dated July ‘80, our own recording session had been planned for November.</span></div>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-27745937991627731042018-10-10T08:00:00.001+02:002019-04-11T07:59:42.427+02:0012 The quintet<style type="text/css">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It took us some time to heal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The personal trauma caused by the ECM failure was growing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was only beginning to realize how lucky I had been and how much of a loss this failed relationship was. Everything made me think of it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Listening to a record was a nightmare.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Every bum guitar note (when I had dared get it out to play) justified my incompetence.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My only hope: to prove to them that they were mistaken.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A show of pride, but in vain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I thought ECM, dreamed ECM, talked about ECM all the time, even if it meant boring my audience; I needed to vent.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A recurring negativity regarding my chances of success in music was emerging. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would heal only ten years later, thanks to the kindness and friendship of Kent Carter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My livelihood was also wavering.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The keyboardist had taken over as Head of my dance band.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A reshuffling of personnel ensued.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Miraculously, this time I stayed on the roster! Not for long, though - financial problems.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dance bands were encountering difficulties.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mobile discos, more in phase with younger audiences, were emerging, relegating the traditional orchestras to old-fashioned-ness, even if they rocked!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was rescued by Olivier, Pat’s former Parisian bassist, who had become my best friend... He got me into the band he had joined, near his home, between Limousin and Dordogne.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was an old-fashioned orchestra, with a long accordion set in the middle of the ball.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In this very rural area, our jobs were still preserved for a time, but often we only played Saturdays, rather than Saturday and Sunday…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It was time for a redeployment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Daniel had started his own and gave drumming lessons in a musical instrument shop in Périgueux.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wasn’t keen on teaching guitar, but I did not have much choice; playing guitar was my only skill…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And so I began to make myself known in Périgueux as a guitar teacher.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I re-learned the instrument with my students, the ‘right way’ this time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Auditorium 4, the music store in Périgueux, also had a music score department, managed by Michel Grégoire. He was in charge of ordering scores, methods and books.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One day, I saw him stocking the guitar methods from Berklee, the famous American jazz school – one of its directors had been Gary Burton.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I happily used this educational tool for many years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It was also time for me to learn to drive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Moving around when you are a musician can be a real headache when you don’t drive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You depend on the kindness of the people around you.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>First and foremost: Marie Christine, who never reproached me for my handicap / inaptitude; but also all the musicians and friends who did me a favor when they could. I really had nothing to complain about.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But the situation was no longer tenable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I made an appointment in a driving school in Vergt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mom was funding.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was twenty-eight years old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">What can I say? Nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The instructor considered me a nutcase - and believe me, he was no psychologist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was imperative that I make progress.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I figured I’d ask Christian to help me by being my co-pilot,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>much like today’s supervised driving…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We took the small road that leads to Vergt, at a good pace, perhaps a little too fast, as Christian’s face seemed to indicate.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Suddenly, coming out of a turn in the road I saw a police van: forgetting that I had a brake pedal at my disposal, I managed to narrowly avoid it (well, I may have grazed it slightly), while keeping up my speed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whew, we had made it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I realized much later how much I had frightened Christian by asking him this small favour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After thirty lessons, my instructor thought we might try to register for a driver's license. I had passed the written test, no problem there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I managed to pass the behind-the-wheel test on the first try.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I bid goodbye to my instructor, his response was:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>you’re a lucky guy, because you do not deserve it!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There never was much love between my instructor and me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">On the Noëtra front, things were rather calm.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pierre took the opportunity to ask if he could benefit from our musicianship and our "Revox technology" to record a five-part suite of his composition.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We hastened to say yes because the group had a huge debt to him: he had always driven from Angoulême in his "Ami 6", no questions asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Pierre, respect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Incidentally, the quintet had just been born.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A new balance, an alchemy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Five was a good number, after the outrageousness of the octet. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Pierre had never believed in the ECM business.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He thought it was better for things to have come to an end as they had, rather than to come to a crash in the studio in Germany.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was probably right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pierre is the man behind Noëtra's reconstruction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">You may have come to realize that I'm stubborn.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Very much so.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wanted our quintet to be able to play live.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No more re-recording, no more Revox.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We had to come of age and enter the World of Jazz.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">A recording would best materialize this new beginning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We wanted a live recording, without hacks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We chose a shabby studio with no sound engineer, but very inexpensive, near Bergerac, to confirm our new direction.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The direction was new but, in fact, there was only one new piece,<i> Forfanterie</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The other two were arrangements of old tracks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We had selected <i>Ephémère</i> because it showcased a frenzied chorus by Pierre.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I liked <i>Forfanterie </i>a lot with its 'Steve Reich' development in the middle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I wanted to continue in this vein.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And I did, as I entered a beautiful period of creativity, despite the ECM trauma.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During this period I composed <i>Casablanca, Jour de Fête </i>and<i> Long Métrage</i>!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had a good feeling with this quintet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The band had a strong identity, based on my ability to vary and push my arpeggiated playing to the fullest, and also on the ability of both soloists to sublimate the improvised passages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Unfortunately, I still had my work cut out regarding improvising on the guitar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Actually, I always had improvised on the guitar, but in the blues idiom only, almost instinctively.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I even had a bit of a talent, my Boto side, remember him?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>even received more than my fair share of compliments from my friend Olivier for my solos when we played balls.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He thought it was a shame that I could not show this talent in my music. But there was a setback: playing blues had formatted the mind and especially the fingers, to using only five notes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">My music is tonal, like classical music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Improvisation in tonal music must be learned. Some don’t need to, you may say, but I certainly did.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One needs to know how to modulate, to go from one scale to another according to certain rules... the scales have seven notes, sometimes more!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It would take me ten years to master the rules of tonality on the guitar.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For now, jazz improvisation in Noëtra was out of the question for me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not until I reached a certain level.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I confined my field of experimentation to my work room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">In ‘83, Noëtra reached new heights.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The repertoire was dense, spectacular and virtuosic. We gigged and we rehearsed like mad.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe we wanted our revenge on fate... who knows?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Michel Grégoire had gone from selling musical instruments to hosting radio shows!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He conducted a weekly one-hour program devoted to music on Radio Périgord, the regional radio station of Radio France.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had seen us in concert in great form and had particularly enjoyed <i>Long Métrage</i>, our morceau de bravoure that was at least twenty minutes long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">He wanted to record us live on his show.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Recording live in the small<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>radio studio was a little risky and presented technical difficulties.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was decided that we would pre-record the show, live, in a more appropriate studio.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We arrived at the studio in the early morning, settled in and soundchecked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I gave the sound engineer a very precise timeline for each track, with the duration of each part, the solos etc.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We played five tracks, including the aforementioned <i>Long Métrage</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We did it all in one take.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By the end of the afternoon we were done, and Michel left, the tape<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>under his arm.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The show aired shortly thereafter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We held our revenge.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not for long. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Listening repeatedly to a copy of Michel’s show plunged me into unjustified frustration, certainly due to the unclosed wound of the ECM mishap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had the chills whenever I listened to it, but I was sure we could do better.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We re-programmed a recording session in the same place, but with more time, three months later.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To no avail.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Better is the enemy of good – a saying I now abide by every time I enter a recording studio.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The real problems appeared where we did not expect them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With Denis.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Christian and I constantly put pressure on Denis to work on his improvisational skills.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We would have liked him to put in the same work we, Christian and I, had.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We should’nt have insisted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Denis felt worse and worse, ending up feeling he no longer belonged, and leaving the band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Nonetheless he would honour the gigs that were booked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We were to play Le Dunois in Paris.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were into experiments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To bring more people in, Le Dunois had come up with the idea of band jousts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two groups played, each in turn, and the winner was determined by audience applause.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Monsieur Loyal character ‘directed’ the whole show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Everything I love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We lost at that stupid game, the other band was from the Paris region and asked all their friends to be there for the show.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My cousin Anne Marie, my stationmaster uncle’s daughter, shouted in vain, hurting her hands in violent applause: she couldn’t measure up!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Our beautiful quintet came to an end on this nasty note.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We had to find a replacement for Denis.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why not a double bassist?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That would give us a jazzier image and focus, and would be more in tune with what we were now listening to ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Pierre, thanks to his network, was quick to introduce us to a contrabassist interested in our music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean François Bercé is a jazzcat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Very much so.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Too much so, some will say.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He is a bopper.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He lived near Parthenay, in Poitou.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We could not rehearse as much as we would have liked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From now on, and this will hold true in the future, we will only rehearse before a confirmed gig.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A tough change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It was clear that we had lost part of our identity by letting Denis go. We were going to lose even more.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After two or three concerts Jean François had an idea.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How about a quartet? Daniel, who jumped on changes, immediately validated the idea.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jean François explained that the music would remain understandable without Pierre, because<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Christian often had the lead lines anyway.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fees would be split four ways rather than five…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Christian and I let them have their way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Such is the life of bands…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Speaking of identity, without Pierre, not much of it was left!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Christian had organized a mini tour of the Massif Central mountains:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brive, Figeac, Decazeville, (where the owner of the club asked us to include a bossa in our set!).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After the tour, the band ceased all activity.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Noëtra 1985</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Christian and I would start another adventure a year later, a duet this time, named Contrejour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When on vacation in Granville, once a year or so, I would often listen to all the recordings I had made with Noëtra, and then with Christian, on my parents’ cassette deck. I made copies of everything I recorded for mom before she died in '94.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She liked to keep abreast of what was happening in my brain ... These listening sessions filled me with a melancholy bordering on despair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">All this music that I listened to on my parents' cassettes would finally be released from 1992 onwards by the Muséa record label, in circumstances which I relate in the Définitivement bleus CD booklet…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These releases only partially mitigated the feeling of having missed the rendez-vous with our potential audience, that of the end of the golden age of progressive rock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I can not, even today, dismiss the idea of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="s1"> </span>having been part of a band that could have reached, at its best, much greater heights.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">It would take the physical release of the Neuf Songes and Hauts Plateaux CDs (mainly 93’s Hauts plateaux - Neuf Songes already belonged in the past) for Dad and Mom to realize the impact of such an event. Mom flat out bought a ream (25 units) of each CD, with the firm intention of selling as many as possible to family members.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The task proving an overwhelming one, she ended up giving them away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Riton*, on the other hand, wouldn’t be impressed for another six years.</span></div>
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<li class="li6" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">*Vincent used this nickname for dad, but not before he was an adult, and always in his absence. It was adopted early on by my two sons.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As long as Dad was alive, Catherine, François and I never dared.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">After Mom’s death, dad would visit for longer periods.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In '99 (or thereabouts), we were both in my work room and I had him listen to a very recent trio recording I had made in Kent Carter’s Studio – the trio with Kent and Jeff.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As our version of Keith Jarrett’s Prism played (which we had discovered through Christian Gerhards’ discotheque, around<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>81/82, in the aftermath of Noëtra’s demise) Papa, a man of pen and paper, asked me if it was not too difficult to obtain the scores of foreign musicians.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I told him I did not need a score because I heard the chords naturally.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He remained motionless for three seconds, and then a wide smile of satisfaction lit up his face, I had become someone else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I was 46.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The surprise having sunken in, he, as usual, gave me a strong piece of advice:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I should apply for the validation of my competences with the French administration.</span><br />
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-78160413935082387732018-10-10T07:30:00.000+02:002019-09-03T14:49:39.112+02:0013 Epilogue<div class="p1" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Shortly before I decided to stop giving guitar lessons, around 2014, I had another difficult bout with my past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">At that time I was teaching a young woman, a psychologist. A practice I would have enjoyed pursuing if it had been necessary to choose an occupation other than that of musician.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She already knew a couple of things about me - you know how talkative I am.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I told her about my difficulty. She made me a deal. She had an appointment with her psychiatrist in the afternoon; for professional reasons this appointment was badly timed. The psychiatrist was a friend of hers, she could call him and I could take her place ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">So I told my story to her psychiatrist... His verdict, after announcing his fees and his method of work, was the following:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So, in short, you are a Ryanair pilot who thinks he should be a pilot at Air France !</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">We are to meet again in a fortnight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">As I get into my car for the appointment and turn the key, nothing happens.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dead battery.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I must have left a door open, certainly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Freudian slip, obviously.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would think otherwise: our objects are wiser than we.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Sarrazac, July 3, 2018.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My Gibson Lespaul and the Twin Reverb Fender (1981)</span></td></tr>
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<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1921426056/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/neuf-songes">Neuf songes by Noëtra</a></iframe>
<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3683772113/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/d-finitivement-bleus">Définitivement bleus... by Noëtra</a></iframe>Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-74105867319221919362018-10-10T07:00:00.000+02:002019-09-03T14:47:13.933+02:00Annex <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 10px;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The cursed cassette</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Wednesday, december 22, 2010. Like every Wednesday, I'm in the train, off to give my lessons. I know I'm going to go too far. My schedule is full of holes. Good thing, too. I've been down for a while; my back aches so much (the plague of many musicians) I can't even touch my guitar... And it's getting to me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I shouldn't complain, 2010 has been rather good to me (as those who follow me know) and next year looks promising, with two albums due for release in February. But right now February is a long way off. Yesterday I listened to Magma's <i>Live Hhai</i> again, which I bought recently on CD. <i>Köhntark</i>: I'd gladly give a few years of my life to write such a powerful piece! The album was recorded in 1975. Makes me think I should listen to those first Noëtra archives recordings from around 78. Never good for my spirits, listening to Noëtra. So that's my state of mind, traveling on that Wednesday train. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I go through my first lesson empty-headed, laboriously picking through a Brassens song; the lesson ends. Free slot. I know where that cassette is. Actually, there are two cassettes. The first, that I know very well, is the one with <a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/carillon" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><i>the piece</i></a> I had completely forgotten, recorded live in 1987 by a female admirer back when Christian and I played as a duet. The titles (her titles) are written in green. The piece I'm thinking of is called: “Gros Matou et le Papillon” (“Big Kitty and the Butterfly” - we don't share the same tastes, title-wise). But that's not the cassette I want. I want the black one, with CONCERT NOETRA 17 JUIN 1981 PART I written in big letters. I've never listened to it since. It has survived six house moves and a divorce.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The musicians tune up to a sort of buzz giving a hypothetical 'A'. Unprofessionally long. Oboe, violin, soprano sax; what'll be the first track? Here it comes at last: Agréments Parfaitement Bleus II. It's tight, perfectly in tune, a shame the rhythm section is too far back, nice guitar (a tone I couldn't stand for years), superb solo instruments. Dynamics swell for the finale, what are those noisy cracks!? Oh no! It all comes back, but carry on, I'm experienced enough now to let them be. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Agréments Parfaitement Bleus : Epilogue. I remember: I had lengthened this short piece by writing an improvisational framework. Let's see. Theme played by violin and cello. What's that crappy cello tone! And out of tune, too, and too loud. No luck. (The cello's performance will turn out to be my only musical regret on the recording). Pierre takes his chorus, flying high (This man burns, Kent Carter would say; he knows Pierre well). The supporting trombone line is brilliant. Gives me the shivers. <i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/sens-de-lapr-s-midi-live" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Sens de l’Après Midi</a></i>. I have a soft spot for this piece, the title is François'. The playing takes my breath away. Beautiful! Noëtra, the piece. Fuzz bass, the sound of the album, it's all there. Complete mastery. I'm not sure my heart will take it. The doorbell rings: right, next lesson! A quick half hour of smiles to my seven year old student and I'm back to my cassette. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Neuf Songes. Serious business. All the more so because I had composed, for live concerts, the likeness of an introduction to replace the album's sound effects (for there is an album, now). A rather ambitious intro, too. Hear: high, repetitive tuttis from the soprano recorder and clarinet, medium frequency responses from the violin and cello, bass support from the euphonium and trombone. Not bad, considering the difficulty. The heart of the piece brings out the octet arrangements, for me to rediscover. They work rather well. General improvisation leading up to the finale: how will we manage? More and more dissonant tenutis from the violin and cello, feels like it's been rehearsed. I'm drawing nice harmonics from my guitar (that's how I'd find a way out back then, when I didn't know what to do). Christian takes over, phew! And how! Only he can pull that off. The improvisation is over, into the finale we go, even the cello sounds good. The finale, as always with Noëtra, is loud; the noisy cracks are back. Who gives a hoot. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/transparences-live" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Transparences</a></i>. Three guitars: Christian, Claude and I. Sounds damn good, soprano sax and guitar (me) playing the theme in unisson: it's so beautiful I could cry; as a matter of fact I break down in tears. Not just watery eyes like when I'm listening to Christian's solo in Long Métrage. No, these are great unstoppable sobs. I manage to listen to the whole piece. Stop. Dry my eyes. I can't stay like this. I call Christian Gerhards, he was at the concert: I can hardly leave a message on his answering machine. I call Alain: same machine (my friends are very busy, they don't live in their past). Back to the cassette; the encore: <i><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/track/no-tra-live" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Noëtra</a></i> (the piece), as befits. Better than the first time, thunderous applause. Curtain. My cellphone rings. Alain. I'm safe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">PS: this cassette is a copy of the one I sent to the Ecm office in June 1981. It put an end to the Ecm – Noëtra relationship. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Jean Lapouge, December 23, 2010</span><span style="font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "cambria";"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Translation: Serge Remy Sacré</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Noëtra octet : Jean Lapouge / Denis Viollet / Pierre Aubert / Daniel Renault / Denis Lefranc / Pascal Leberre / Christian Pabœuf / Claude Lapouge</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TjPVWBWG3uE/W_An4DGvL5I/AAAAAAAAASU/jnbUsLT5JFQda-WJBeBc6fH9QB_fy45vACLcBGAs/s1600/Octet-81.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a></div>
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<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=843004892/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/r-surgences-derrances">...Résurgences d'errances by Noëtra</a></iframe>Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-58774141980860574402018-10-10T06:30:00.000+02:002019-09-03T14:45:38.645+02:00Christian Gerhards, The Swan Song (Noëtra Live 83 booklet)<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u6ss7T1EV4M/W_pNOfzc8CI/AAAAAAAAAS8/MnABwcFIbzEcpHJ1jdw4blX1ZUIpQDzIgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Live-83.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="1430" height="396" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u6ss7T1EV4M/W_pNOfzc8CI/AAAAAAAAAS8/MnABwcFIbzEcpHJ1jdw4blX1ZUIpQDzIgCEwYBhgL/s400/Live-83.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Captured live on French regional radio, this recording was the last bottle thrown to sea by Noëtra. A quantum of equilibrium in extreme tension, it is the tip of an iceberg whose shape remains unimaginable for those ignorant of its development, an extraordinarily human adventure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> One October morning in 1979, between Périgueux and Bergerac, I impulsively (and a positive impulse it turned out to be) picked up a rain-drenched hitchhiker. The name of the thin “voyageur” was Christian Pabœuf. He played oboe in a band, and promised me a cassette recording. The first track was not love at first sight; but a few listens later, Noëtra’s music seeped in and took root, entrancingly familiar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> We lived a few kilometres apart, and so I met Jean Lapouge and the other musicians. See them on the booklet photos or on Jean’s website: a quartet of umbrageous Vikings, unflinchingly set on their shared passion. They were remarkably courteous and delicate, unconnected to the materialistic rudeness of the surrounding world. Far from the cliché of “brilliant” urban artists communicating through provocation, the musicians in Noëtra lived both in the heart of the Périgord countryside, and on a planet far removed from their neighbours’ everyday lives. They lived for the most part in small isolated houses, comfortless and phoneless, often carless; but they had their instruments and a Revox… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> At the village’s end, their rehearsal barn evoked a break in the space-time continuum. In the midst of draughts and spider-webs, musical instruments and scores were gathered around a Revox A77. The musicians would work there, more concentrated and serious than a chamber orchestra. Rehearsal would set off after a trivial exchange of words: Denis Lefranc swaying to the rhythm, as if to accentuate the lyrical sound of his bass guitar; Daniel Renault bringing subtle and discreet refinements to his precise tempo; tense to the extreme, Christian Pabœuf would give off an intense emotional charge, a tightrope walker wavering between frailness and rigour. All this under the discreet control of Jean Lapouge, solidly concentrated on the intertwining arpeggios which structure his compositions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> At times Denis would be on vocals (Le Voyageur égaré…) or on euphonium, Christian on flute, and Daniel on violin (before Pierre Aubert’s arrival). This quartet was the heart of Noëtra, to which, according to the harmonic constructions imagined by Jean, other musicians would bring in the desired backup : saxophone, trombone, cello, violin… These occasional musicians, often far removed from the quartet’s universe and aspirations, were taken in by the ambient intensity: their playing was in phase with the band’s spirit, as can be heard on the two albums recorded in the barn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> This “contagiousness” sheds a light on the Noëtra story. For how can one explain that such broke musicians would relocate 500 kilometres away to join the original duet (Jean and Daniel) with not even the smallest financial perspective? It took only a musical cassette, a listen to one or two of Jean’s compositions, to bring Denis and Christian down from their native Normandy and Brittany. They rehearsed together for years, living off of expedients: private lessons, cover bands, street music… These “umbrageous vikings” were incredibly discreet and reserved. For example, I only very recently became aware of the importance Jean gave to my feelings about his music: I was one of two people whose reactions he would await after each recording… Extremely demure, these musicians excelled in understatement, even among themselves. Why spoil with words the object of their passion, a creation above all other forms of communication? Jean’s music spoke for himself, taking part in it was the best possible response.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Jean sometimes says music can escape its creator, and that is a good thing. There the listener casts his fantasies, recognizing himself, rightly or wrongly. More than any other, the music of Noëtra seems to me held equitably by the four elements: air, earth, water, fire. Its earthly energy can be airily light; it can burn and tear with no loss of fluidity. And it conceals a combination of power and melancholy: the powering desire for intense communication, the melancholy of not accomplishing it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Spurred by the Revox and the new compositions Jean continuously calligraphed, the quartet had made good progress. Too imperfect for release, the first recordings’ energy was present, but often messy. The mood was sometimes oppressive, dark and obsessive, close to what Art Zoyd or Univers Zéro were producing at the time. The equilibrium between elements was not yet achieved, earth and fire overpowering air and water. Progress allowed Christian to develop his improvisational capabilities, over as yet very written music. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Enter ECM. Another surreal gap: what a shock for an unknown, mostly self-taught band to receive, in the deep of Périgord, an invitation from the prestigious jazz label! ECM seduced by a cassette sent by Jean! Too good to be true? Prior to meeting ECM, Jean endeavours to produce music both faithful to his ethic and in accordance with the label’s exactingness. Boosted by enthusiasm, the musicians make progress, and so does Jean’s recording technique: a simple Revox in a barn yields near studio-quality sound… The second cassette is musically and technically more accomplished, and although Manfred Eicher feels the magic of the first recording has been lost, the recording project seems to hold up. Jean nevertheless senses he will have to convince and reassure ECM regarding the band’s capacity to record according to the label’s criteria. Despite the band’s progress, the project will get bogged down in all-around demotivation, for no specific reason. Was ECM unwilling to take the risk of a slightly out-of-phase repertoire played by unknowns? Did they sense Jean’s idealism, inspired by rock musicians’ recording freedom? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> The early dreams and enthusiasm will yield to an accumulation of problems. Jean is at a psychological low; foreseeing the adventure’s end, he’ll push Noëtra to its limits. Pierre being the last “extra” to still rehearse with the original members, it is in quintet form that the band will play live in the studios of Radio France in April 1983. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> The resulting recording will be Noëtra’s swan song, its last burst of pride. The musicians have reached a new level of technique: Pierre enhances the quartet’s texture; he and Christian improvise brilliantly, supported by Daniel’s supple rhythm and Jean’s sublime arpeggiated work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> The end of the dream is more unbearable than was the pre-ECM anonymity. Noëtra will gradually die out, but the strongest will have gained much from the adventure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> What if ECM had produced Noëtra? That such a prestigious label should consider producing these unknowns says much about the quality of their music. Success or not, ECM or not, Jean would have followed his musical path. To him, Noëtra is part of the past; having emancipated himself from it, we can at last listen to what was reserved to a happy few, or to the archives of Radio France. And savour a rich and deep music, which will forever be intensely alive… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Christian Gerhards</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> In 1983, under the brand name “Confluence”, Christian Gerhards designed his first high-end audio loudspeakers from his home in Creyssensac, Dordogne.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Confluence received (among other awards) the “Diapason d'Or” in 1989 and 1994. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Translation: Serge Sacré</span></div>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898609438110301663.post-31982592847914116482018-10-10T06:00:00.000+02:002019-09-03T14:54:45.654+02:00Annex 2<style type="text/css">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Jean LAPOUGE / NOËTRA<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>interview by Aymeric Leroy (excerpt).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Big Bang. Monthly. 2010</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/live-83" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #7c80a1; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: justify; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Noëtra “Live 83” </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">/ </span><a href="https://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/atlas" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #7c80a1; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: justify; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Jean Lapouge - Christian Pabœuf Atlas</a></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">"Long-Métrage" (‘Feature film’ ) is the live recording’s ‘pièce de résistance’.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As the title implies, it is a work of unusual length for you, clocking in at more than 20 minutes. Should it be read as a mark of ambition (much like a young film director would move up to a full-length picture after having cut his teeth on shorts )?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or is it simply referring to the ‘cinematic’ nature of the piece, and did you compose it as if following a storyboard (scene/shot transitions are clearly perceptible), or is that left to the listener’s imagination?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Long Métrage, Casablanca </i>and <i>Jour de Fête </i>were all written in 1982 – dark times for me, I was feeling completely helpless. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Although one could think otherwise, <i>Long Métrage </i>is the only one of those which refers to movies…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Casablanca </i>stems from my reading of André Gide, his Diary in particular. <i>Jour de Fête</i> is the title of a painting by Andrew Wyeth, an American painter, in which a young black girl in her Sunday’s best sits on a chair with such a sad look in her eyes…</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day Of The Fair, Andrew Wyeth, City Art Museum of St Louis (USA)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Concerning <i>Long Métrage </i>specifically, it grew in length as we rehearsed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were rehearsing less than we used to, but missing out on our Friday sessions was out of the question! We had put in a lot of work on the track’s structure and all the instruments’ working together in the leading up to that emotional high, peaking in Christian’s solo, in the last third of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the piece... That solo overwhelms me every time I listen to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I never intended to compose a twenty minute piece, but when I wrote out the score for the SACEM,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>it turned out to be 27 pages long…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The juxtaposition of images, hard cuts from one to the other, were a common occurrence in my style of composition, before I got lured into the “Real Book” format…</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">An almost constant nostalgia pervades the music of Noëtra, perhaps even melancholy, personified in the oboe and violin, and the evocative power of the guitar’s arpeggios.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Is that revealing of a nostalgic or melancholy disposition, or would you suggest otherwise? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or perhaps an extreme form of romanticism…</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">"The evocative power of the guitar’s arpeggios”:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>that just about sums up why I play guitar.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1970 / 71, when it became apparent music would be the focusing point of my life, I would naturally come up with arpeggios that would be the starting point of many of my compositions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Already, some were quite hypnotic and melancholy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would play them to my brother François, their sole audience at the time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I remember the first time I brought a musician home, a saxophonist/clarinetist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I asked him to play a melody over a looping arpeggio, my brother was around.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The esteem he held me in rose substantially!…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I don’t actively seek out nostalgia or melancholy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But they do show up on their own.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I can be in high spirits and have an idea come up from beyond the grave;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’ll follow it all the way – my kind of mood!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I like for an initial idea to move me, to jostle me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That may be more likely to happen with the darker scales…</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Following two "studio" recordings, this one captures Noëtra "live".<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know you didn’t play many concerts, and hardly toured outside your region.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nonetheless, would you say, as this excellent recording seems to attest, that Noëtra took on another dimension when facing its audience on stage,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in circumstances that would lead the members to outdo themselves?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Noëtra’s final lineup (the quintet, 1982-84) was the only one to have really toured.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We even played the Dunois in Paris ! We had solved most all our difficulties.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were an awesome band according to those who saw us at the time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our repertoire was well arranged and rehearsed, including the aforementioned <i>Long Métrage</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Christian and Pierre were at the top of their game and complemented each other.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And the rhythm section certainly knew what they were doing!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On receiving a copy of the 19cm/s (actually, the record, as the master tape had been destroyed!) I found the whole thing to be unusable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I even decided to rerecord it all three months later, with more time and a better mix.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It didn’t work out as I had hoped – a disaster, really!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Today, time has done its work…</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Compared to "Hauts Plateaux" from 1993 (closer to the “standards” of jazz), “Atlas”, the duo recording with Christian Paboeuf, is much more of a direct continuation of Noëtra… Was it consciously so, or did you see it as a fresh start?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Atlas</i> is a good rendition of our live sound from 1986/88.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That sound also reflects our respective research on our instruments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Christian was radically working on his improvisational abilities and his natural inclination to play multiple instruments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Playing his bass recorder through an octaver was a rather spectacular effect, and greatly assisted me in my solos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Later (1988), Christian started on metallophones with a small glockenspiel, and soon graduated to a vibraphone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He is now an accomplished vibraphonist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As for me, in 1983 I decided to completely rethink my guitar playing, in a move to break out of my ‘notorious’ arpeggio system.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Incidentally, my new-found status as a guitar instructor called for some ‘serious’ work on the instrument…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I spent 6 months, 8 hours a day, learning to read for the guitar.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No more fingerstyle, plectrum all the way (the Berklee method, scales, triads, pentatonics etc…)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Ever since that time, Christian and I have had a completely telepathic connection to music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We can be playing over a given tempo, harmony, loop, a hint even – one of us changes without notice: the other is already there! (example: the improvisation on <i>Gothique</i>).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We played over fifty gigs as a duet, to receptive audiences, yet we approached record labels to no avail, once again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Artistically, it wasn’t a fresh start, but rather a pragmatic solution to circumstantial difficulties.</span><br />
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<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1434170298/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://jeanlapouge.bandcamp.com/album/atlas">Atlas by Jean Lapouge / Christian Pabœuf</a></iframe>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Speaking of Christian, your common ventures are ongoing…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What are you current musical projects, and which of those will in the near future yield a CD?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Christian and I had a nine year "break".<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then, in 2005, I asked him to join my new trio, with Christiane Bopp on trombone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We recorded new material at Christian’s place which will be released as a CD titled <i>Temporäre </i>on the Muséa label in February 2011.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">I will also release <i>Plaything, </i>an album of recordings from 1994-2002 with Kent Carter and Jeff Boudreaux – those who know me only through Noëtra will be in for a surprise!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff, Kent and me in concert, Périgueux 1997.<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.56px;"> Photo Jacques Dufour</span></td></tr>
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Jean Lapougehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12755229487806943118noreply@blogger.com0