The Stoned Poet

On the 24th of January, t'was a cold, minus thirty fucking degrees, outside weather. Luckily, no need for any speedball, downers or uppers or whatsoever creative cocktails or drugs to warm up. For the news came to my ears, Oddcharm were playing at Quai des Brumes alongside Rien D'alarmant . So I drove up to Quai des Brumes, arriving at 9h30 exactly, as the first band started. I bolt in, a guy in a Hawain dress welcomes me. I can't help but think, well he's unaware of the cold outside. Turns out, as I fix him a bit more, I realize it's Thomas the singer of Oddcharm. Having seen the band once, I now believe the dress is all about a stage play, something is brewing in the back of his mind. I get pass the stage, rumble is echoing on the scene but I dart towards the bar, I'm thirsty and I'm freezing, what better than a beer? Pause, is that what defines an alcoholic? To find every reason possible to have a beer? Maybe so, I don't know, I've been everythi...

"Come to me now and rest your head for just five minutes, everything is good Such a cozy room, The windows are illuminated by the evening sunshine through them Fiery gems for you, only for you Our house is a very, very, very fine house with two cats in the yard Life used to be so hard Now everything is easy 'cause of you and our [house]" Those lyrics from the song Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young are the exact representation of what the project called Mai/Son was. A place where I could hang my problems, have a drink or two (as it was a Bring Your Own Beer, there was no pressure to drink at the bar) and simply enjoy the music whenever and whatever music it was. On many week-ends about to end up with no place to go, I would walk up Saint-Joseph Ouest and arrive at the mythic establishment. Compared to say Van Horne, Mai/Son was really a place to embrace, it was a venue we, the youth, had the possibilities of making ours and limitless were the possibilities towa...

 19th December, show at La Sottorenea with Violence City, Snatchers, Caniche 666 and No Waves. I arrived there around 19h45, I see julian at the entrace. He's there early, hopes to leave not too late, having more plans to come. We smoke, talk about Gun's N' Roses, local scene controversies and bands. Controversies are everywhere in this scene, everyone wants a name, no matter how dirty or how insane you have to act to have a tail waggin behind you. Rumors spread like wildfire, the music is the wind that keeps hailing the fire. Truly, I believe the scene is not at it's best, because politics, drugs and the social media have been injected in it. People demand from the artists certain standards, lyrics not too controversial, a certain dress code, a way to act and speak. The kids want to be represented, but I state that they don't even fucking know what they want or what they should resemble. Whatever. Cigarettes are done, inside we are, no one. Dead. Silence. Almost. I...

Et du coup, je me suis dis, on est loin de l'époque où le standard règne, ou si tu ne t'imprègnes pas des standards bebop, swing ou autre, tu te fais virer du stage! Photo par Léa Fourniol! Le Saint-Graal , lundi le 8 décembre, 21h. La soirée commence, moi je suis en route, la musique coule à flot, Miles Davis, Kind Of Blue, l'odeur de Ashish me monte au narine, mes nerfs se tendent, la trompette embarque, mes sens s'aiguisent, le rythme embarque, et puis la lumière tourne rouge. Je m'arrête, les notes défilent, ainsi que le temps file. On va souper avec le père de mon amie. Pâtes au fruit de mer gratiné. Quel régal, un avant goût d'une soirée qui sera la débandade total musicalement parlant. Le souper est fini, on part, Amélie ma bonne amie et moi vers le Saint-Graal. Arrivé là-bas, c'est une cohorte de jeune, assoiffé de vivre toute en ayant une touche de modernité alors on se réserve une politesse, un savoir vivre, et un beau sourire pour l...