Tag Archives: France

03.10.21
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Loose T. – Brexit

Brexit supporters must be thanking their lucky stars that Covid-19 happened when it did. The economic fall-out as a result of the shit storm can now be hidden away within the much larger negative pandemic impact. “Oh, that’s a direct consequence of Covid“, the politicians can say about our poverty for years to come when questioned why the nurses are only seeing paltry pay rises and the NHS doesn’t seem to be £350m better off. 

I’ve no doubt begun to sound like a broken record on these pages. But friends who run small businesses are either no longer exporting into EU countries or cutting into their thin margins to do so; friends who live in an EU country are reporting that the shelves are bare of things like Marmite and UK based cheddar cheese. Transferring funds from the UK into the EU now costs silly money every transaction. And I’m not even going to start on the time limits that we can now all spend in EU countries. 

Brexit supporters, tongues in the arses of others, lick away whilst mumbling incoherently about beating those pesky Europeans to vaccinations as if it’s a competitive sport. It all makes me want to scream. 

But, arguably, I’m still not screaming as loud about Brexit as Loose T.. Jim, from her record label, Pear O’Legs, tells me what Loose T. will be doing when the pandemic is done. ” She’ll probably just go and shout somewhere“, he says – “it really is her thing.Ideally in a crowd with a lot of sweaty strangers.”

 

Loose T.’s track ‘Brexit’ is a wonderfully angry punk piece, a fingers up to Brexit and British politics from a French cellist, writer and activist who has spent the last 8 years living in London and Edinburgh. Who can not be drawn to a track that quickly and immediately gets to the very heart of what’s wrong with it all?

“On the next day, My boss came In a Hawaiian shirt Cause he felt so smug.” screams Loose T. at one point early in the song nailing the divisions that were reinforced overnight in 2016 and have still to go away. 

“Sadly I think lots of people have had enough of Brexit and have just accepted the ongoing shambles.“, says Jim from the record label, on behalf of Loose T. who doesn’t do social media. I suspect that Jim is broadly right. 

Sonic Breakfast will never accept it though. 

02.10.21
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StanLei – Wake Up

It seems kind of obvious that Sonic Breakfast, a blog with the tag-line ‘Music musings with your muesli’, should feature a song called ‘Wake Up’. The breezy chorus of the tune and gentle, laidback beat could be perfect fodder for those still yawning, dabbing the sleepy dust from their eyes and trying to get their arses into gear for an inevitably busy Wednesday. 

But it doesn’t take long to realise that StanLei’s ‘Wake Up’ is asking you to do so much more than to smell the coffee percolating in your cafetière. This is a protest song, a call to arms that’s urging us all to take much more interest in the political, environmental and social issues of the day. “We are all in this together so why cant you take a minute before you sit back down, put your blinkers on and settle in it“, says StanLei in the song before another chorus kicks in.

StanLei (‘stan-lay’) – real name Jennifer Stanley Smith – is a singer songwriter and producer based in Toulouse. Leaving the adopted hometown of Bristol to spend years travelling as a nomadic seasonal worker, Jenny looks to have now settled in France. It’s from there that her debut album will be released, hopefully in April. 

Having spent one unexpected night in Toulouse back in 2018, I obviously hardly feel qualified to wax lyrical about the place. But the city did seem to have a vibrant energy and an ‘alternative’ culture that marked it out from other parts of a slightly dated, stuffy France that I’d been previously travelling through. “Toulouse is a really cool city, it even reminds me a bit of Bristol.“, says StanLei when I mention my sole visit. “I’m actually in the countryside outside Toulouse now though so 2020/2021 has been a bit more bearable here I think.”

Being free to travel across France (or to drive across any Continent) seems a long way away right now. But that surely doesn’t mean that I have to self-isolate without talking about the things that really matter. Today is a day to begin to ‘take back my power.’

01.20.21
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Rime Salmi – Batwanes Beek

It’s always good to push yourself outside of your comfort zone and to embrace new things. As the years advance, it’s one way to stop yourself getting staid or stuck in your ways. There’s so much to discover in this wonderful world and precious little time to find out about it all. Why settle with what you know when around the corner there might be something that can give you even more joy and happiness – as long as you go into it with eyes wide open? 

That is, of course, so true when listening to music. Our tastes are formed young and we keep returning to those tracks of our youth (and songs that sound like them) because of their familiarity. They offer us comfort and it’s easy to see why they might provide our go-to moments.

Sometimes, I like to shake up my listening. I’ll deliberately find tracks from genres that I know next to nothing about and dig into what I find. To a degree, this is how I stumbled upon ‘Batwanes Beek’ by Rime Salmi. I’m very glad I did. A cover of an ‘Arabic classic’ by Warda, Rime has turned the tune into her very own Afro-pop anthem. 

 

In my ignorance, I know very little about ‘Arabic classics’ or Warda who first released this song. But the internet is such a rich encyclopaedia and Wikipedia such an extensive resource that things don’t stay mysteries for long. 

Warda, the Algerian Rose, was born in Paris to a Lebanese mother and an Algerian father. Her father owned a nightclub and encouraged her to sing patriotic Algerian songs from a young age. A ten year break from singing (her first husband forbade her to) was broken in 1972 when she sang to commemorate Algeria’s independence. After divorcing her grumpy husband, she married again and her career blossomed. She cooked with wine and became something of a superstar commanding a state funeral when she passed away in 2012 aged 73. Warda sounds like she lived a full life of pushing out of her comfort zone. 

Rime Salmi was born in Morocco but raised in Canada. For Rime, it’s clearly very important to both embrace the culture she comes from as well as the one she has grown up in. What we get in this version of ‘Batwanes Beek’ is a vibrant explosion of happy sound. It’s hard not to smile when listening to the spirited joy on offer here – and we all need to smile more now than ever. 

And then there is the video that features Rime and three well-known dancers from Montreal’s LGBTQ scene proudly using the city as an urban catwalk. Rime sums it up better than I ever could when she says that “this video is a scream. This video is a statement. This video is a manifesto. Arab LGBTQ+ people exist, love and love one another… and it’s something to celebrate.” 

Happy hump day – keep being curious.

01.07.21
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Good Morning TV – Insomniac

I have laboured under the sweet misapprehension that cockerels do their ‘cock-a-doodle-doing’ at dawn. Their call doubles as an alarm clock for the jolly farmers around the world who then spring into action with clockwork ruddiness. 

The wild cock that has turned up in the vicinity of this villa hasn’t got that memo. It howls all night only seeming to keep quiet when it is actually time for most of us to begin the day. Last night (and through the night), Colin (let’s give it a name) was auditioning for a lead role in a rooster choir, such was the decibel of his doodle. Colin kept me awake for some time and under my breath I muttered that I was going to do fierce things to his neck. Then, I fell asleep and forgot my anger.

Restless nights are rarely something I struggle with. If the last year has taught us to be grateful for small mercies this is one of mine. Mostly, when I put my head onto the pillows, I’m out for the count within minutes. I have friends who are not as fortunate. They tell me about how they struggle to sleep and their insomnia truly sounds hellish. Sometimes, and largely for no apparent reason if you put the cock to one side, I find myself wide awake in the witching hour. It’s not a place I want to frequent regularly. 

Insomniac by Good Morning TV is a song for all who struggle with their sleep. This wonderful French act summon up their Gallic indie pop charms and mix in an ounce of shoegaze spirit to sweetly take us to that time when sleep won’t come. Their press release says it better when it notes that “Guided by the almost lullaby-like piano ritournelle, “Insomniac” evokes those thoughts that come troubling the mind when trying to fall asleep.”

(Ritournelle is my new word for the day)

Good Morning TV tell me that they have an album hopefully coming out in March. I’ll be eagerly waiting to have a listen to that if the quality of Insomniac is indicative. But, in the very best way, I’ll also try not to lose sleep over it. 

 

 

 

 

12.10.20
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Iraini Mancini – Shotgun

I had a dream. We were younger and playful and driving across France. We’d just stolen some broccoli from the village stores simply because we could. We had the cents to pay for our veg but the dithering fool behind the counter tested our patience to the limit. And so we drove off in our 2CV, with not a care in the world. 

The car radio startled into a crackle and a song came out. It was Iraini Mancini’s Shotgun. I queried in my head how this could be – the song only came out two months ago and yet this dreamscape was from years ago, nay decades. I still had a full head of hair and you were full of smiles. 

I didn’t let the incongruity have time to settle. We were happier than you could imagine now, giggling more than we ever thought possible. We were young, crazy and in love and being accompanied by the most appropriate soundtrack. This was bliss.

And then I woke. 

 

Iraina Mancini is the epitome of cool; of that there can be no doubt.  An expert in Northern Soul, Funk, Vintage R&B, Ska and Garage Rock, she’s exactly the sort of person you’d want at your parties. She might spin some records whilst there or introduce you to her well-connected friends. She’d undoubtedly provide the street cred.

She’s always made music but she’s now turned her attention to her solo career. And on the evidence of Shotgun this is the stuff that Sonic Breakfast’s dreams are made of (see what I did there?). This is deliciously laced 60s French Pop; Serge Gainsbourg influenced-music for the 2020s.

It’s carefree and seductive; a chance for all of us to jump into our own road movie and to pay no regard to the consequence. We’re on the run and leaving it all behind.

Shotgun is a shot of fun. We need this now more than ever. 

 

https://youtu.be/33J08L8T4SE

11.26.20
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Freyr – Avalon

I’ve never been to Marseille. I do think that I’d like it there though. 

Most Mediterranean port cities tend not to disappoint. Regular readers of Sonic Breakfast will know of my love for Alicante. Mad, Med  cities buzz with creativity, tolerance, historical relevance and cosmopolitan spirit. Overlook the cruise ships, the crime and the fact that Marseille is in France (joke) and I reckon you’d have a long weekend second to none.

 

It certainly sounds as if Freyr had a pretty neat time when visiting with a former lover – that’s how I’m interpreting the lyric to his new folktronica delight, Avalon. In a throwback to the summer months, we find Freyr and his friend in hazy mood and romantic waywardness as they explore the mean streets, the monuments, the rocky outcrops, the beaches and river beds together.

The feeling doesn’t last – these things never do as the utimate verse is at pains to point out (spoiler alert) but, whilst they do, why not revel in the warm bliss of that moment? The beat is fuzzy, the vocal toned, the backing organic and the guitar woozy as; it all comes together in a wonderfully reminiscent nod towards place and season. 

Freyr comments in a brief E-mail exchange that, “The melody for Avalon was inspired by all the Temples around Vancouver. But it needed some lyrics to go with it and this trip to Marseille was still very fresh in my mind. But I don’t like saying too much about lyrics. I like the audience to be free to conjure up their own vision.”

Your challenge for the morning is set.

11.01.20
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Nuit Oceãn – Fire Divine

Hey Sean,

Hope your day’s still rocking! :), We have noticed that you have previously supported Elliot Moss and have a similar artist to share with you Downtempo Producer Nuit Oceān who released his  EP and  music video titled ‘Fire Divine’ via  ROUGE NEON RECORDS..

I like receiving mails such as this. Targeted and clear, you can be pretty sure that when you do listen there’ll be something within that appeals. It might now be six years since I’ve written about Elliot’s music but his influence still shimmers across Sonic Breakfast. The post about ALMA just this week (here) being a very clear case in point. 

So, I listen. And then I listen again. Steve Mesmin, the Bordeaux-based producer behind Nuit Oceãn has released one of those tracks that you like very much but you’re not sure why. The lyric, sung in an impassioned and vocodered falsetto soul, a repeating loop of verse and chorus, culminates in the stark word, Fool. It’s mournful and you wonder what dark place Steve might have been in when he created this. There’s a sense of giving your all and being let down and yet so beautiful and calming is the accompanying music that drawing any definite conclusions cannot be concrete.

Perhaps this ambiguity of feeling is exactly what Steve is looking to create in his EP? Content from the press release would appear to corroborate. 

“I always have this “mantra” in my head during the creating and recording process: “When there is nothing left. When you no longer have the strength to move forward. There he is, in each of us…” The FIRE DIVINE guides us to a better version of ourselves, towards a brighter future. Let it flow.”

A song about reaching rock bottom and then coming out fighting on the other side; an ambiguous breakdown that signals a rage of positivity. As many of us enter tougher and restrictive measures to our movement this November, it’s perhaps a tune that we can all take into the dark nights with us. 

 
10.02.19
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Slurp, Attawalpa and Gladboy – The Shacklewell Arms – September 30th 2019

I realise that a mistake has been made. I’m standing here at a venue (which shall remain nameless) watching the second band of the evening. Two songs in and it’s clear that they’re slightly better than the first act but only marginally so. The first band were a sub-standard Biffy Clyro specialising in that dull, tuneless and turgid, exasperating Rock thing that tends to take itself far too seriously. I might be a glutton for punishment but this is simply foolish. 

A quick check on my phone reveals that there’s a free gig of interest on up at the Shacklewell Arms. It’s a taxi ride away at the best of times but tonight with the rain bucketing down that Uber is a necessity. On arrival, I immediately know that I’ve made a wise choice to abort on the first gig. 

Gladboy are playing. I only find out that they’re Gladboy after the event and only catch three of their songs but it’s enough to realise that this young bunch from Norwich are worthy of further attention. Mixing a punkish energy with a psychedelic and woozy doo-wop, they’ve got tunes and guile. The guitarist-vocalist takes drumming duty for the final tune whilst the fab backing singer stands centre stage, deliberately nonchalant in a red leather skirt. The crowd appreciate Gladboy’s efforts and you can see why. 

Attawalpa are up next. They take an age to get ready with front man, Luis (Attawalpa) hiding himself away in the toilet when the all-clear is given from the sound desk. I guess nervousness is a funny thing. Luis is engaging to watch, over-the-top black mascara highlighting the frustration and creativity at the sets core. Things start with a skewed nod to Pink Floyd before moving into a Brit Pop space. Luis’ lyrics excite and are conveyed with a mix of Cocker and Walker. He jumps out into the crowd loosely acknowledging friends and family who are looking on. Tall women, in all likelihood models, take to the floor to dance energetically. There’s a lot to take in and Attawalpa deserves further attention.

There’s some confusion over the name of tonight’s headliner. Advertised on the poster as Dragon’s Daughter, it would appear that this all-girl trio from France have now renamed themselves Slurp. CDs at the merch stall have the original name crossed out and the new name scrawled over in black marker. Slurp confess that they don’t speak much English but then proceed to introduce each song with fine diction. Jangly, bubblegum punk-pop is a genre of choice for Sonic Breakfast so this was always going to appeal but the lively delivery just adds to the pleasure. The songs might sound like three-minute throwaways but lyrically they’re taking on bigger issues; these women are hard, independent and not to be messed with.  I want to see more – and it appears that Slurp have more to play – but we pass 11 and I guess that Monday evening licence regulations mean that an abrupt halt ensues. 

September will shortly be over for another year. The rain still pours down. Shops begin to fill with Christmas stock; lights shimmer in the residue of drizzle. One constant remains – every night in this town, some fine bands will be playing (and some shit ones as well). 

08.20.19
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Old School Funky Family & Mulvey’s Medicine – The Finsbury – August 19th

It takes something pretty special to get me dancing like a crazed maniac on a Monday night. In fact, I’m hardly known for my weekend strutting and so the sight of me bopping like a bad one early in the working week would have filled the casual bystander of a friend with all sorts of confusion. Fortunately, for me at least, I’m pretty sure that there is no video evidence of my flailing and failing extremities. And besides, it would have looked odder not to be dancing at the Finsbury to the French funk of Old School Funky Family. The whole room was up and at it. It was contagious.

Old School Funky Family are on a short UK tour. You can see that they’ll go down exceptionally well at festivals and it should be of no surprise that the good people of Chai Wallahs have snapped them up for Green Man last weekend and Shambala this. In between, they’re playing shows across the country. Go and see them if you’re going to Shambala or living in Bristol. They will not disappoint. 

In any other town, you’d pay good money to see musicianship of this quality. London continues to confound and delight in equal measure. I realise there’s a ton of competition out there every night but quite how this can be put on as a free show is anybody’s guess. “You’d be happy paying £15 for that”, says a punter, slightly gobsmacked by what he’s just witnessed. And he’s quite right as well.

There’s eight of them crammed onto the Finsbury stage. Brass heavy and brass led, it’s instrumental funk with more than a sprinkling of jazz. They’re from deep in the South of France – and it’s perhaps appropriate, given the nationality, that bass duties are not taken by a guitar but by a French horn. Between each song, one of the troupe takes a microphone and introduces what’s coming next.

At different times in the set, each member of the band gets to delight with an extended solo, to show off their musical pedigree with a spotlight slot. Other members of the band give way sometimes leaving the stage to signal what’s about to occur. In the hands of lesser musicians, such interludes might become little more than elongated wank-fests. But these guys are so talented that it’s always astonishing to watch. The clarinet player particularly impresses in his solo. It begins all seedy, backstreet nightclub (slow and languid) and ends with fireworks (explosive and illuminating). 

Whilst the core of this is jazz-funk, Old School Funky Family can also mix it up. They play a cover but mostly it’s their original compositions. They draw on their proximity to North Africa to charm snakes in one piece and take us on a tour of EDM styles in another. My short attention span never once wanes whilst my legs move; the dynamics on stage providing just enough to maintain interest.

Support act for the night, Mulvey’s Medicine, could learn from this. Indeed, I’m sure they are for many of their seven-strong number are lapping Old School Funky Family up dancing in the front row. Mulvey’s Medicine also indulge in instrumental jazz-funk and do so with fine musicianship. To move on to the next level, I’d politely suggest that they now need to give some thought to their stagecraft. They jam well – and it’s by no means boring to watch – but what might their gimmick be that can set them apart? 

The night (and probably the week) belongs to Old School Funky Family. This was no typical Monday.

05.08.19
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L’Imperatrice – Heaven – May 2nd 2019

This is how it must feel to be waking up from a coma after five years out of action – or stepping into a parallel universe. 

I consider myself pretty well informed about this world of popular music. So, how can I possibly have been unaware for so long of the French disco phenomenon that is L’Imperatrice? The 1,600 within this sold-out Thursday night at the iconic Heaven know. They mock my ignorance from afar. Or, maybe they’re just mocking my suit. I’ve had to rush straight from a work function. 

L’Imperatrice descend from space to join us under the arches of Charing Cross Station. With their backs initially to the crowd, their opener draws on space travel imagery. Dressed in white with star-trek stripes, you’re immediately aware that this is going to be a spectacle. Lights draw you in. You recall your favourite time ever had in a festival field and observe the similarity to this. Daft Punk might not play live right now but here we have a ready-made alternative. Seriously, it’s that good. 

“Maybe tonight is the night to figure out if you’re in heaven”, asks Flore, L’Imperattice’s impeccable singer. Many don’t need to be asked for we already know. It’s impossible not to beam from ear to ear with the joy being created here.

The incredible graphics are playing a part. Disco balls of light and strobe, the earth spins whilst hands are clapped in tune with the beat. And when L’Imperatrice play ‘Vanille Fraise’ we have a summer scene of tennis umpires, clay courts and dodgy moustaches. Sweat-laden headbands spin like golden rings as tennis racquets swipe in time with the beat. God, this is glorious- a show that doffs its cap to retro 70’s sound and imagery whilst still managing to be entirely modern. 

 

The music is timeless; tunes that have forever been part of your life even though the truth is that this is the first time that you’ve heard them tonight. The groove heads down tried and tested paths; funk, jazz, pop, disco and happy house – a nostalgic soundtrack to your happiest summer ever.

And the images keep on giving. Here we have a grainy collection from when Zidane lifted the World Cup for France. The vocal appears to repeat the mantra that this is your last chance to love. The ascension is glorious as we all proceed to the inevitable lifting of the trophy. Jacques Cousteau gets in on the action; we’re now diving in an underwater world, searching for lost treasures whilst sharks swim in synchronised fashion all around us. It all beats the day job for sure.

I return to earlier thoughts. L’Imperatrice are ready-made headliners of your boutique festival. This would be euphoric in a field as the stars glisten above. Beat-Herder should book them. They’d be a magical fit.  L’Imperatrice – previously unknown in these quarters will not now be overlooked.