of the main things which infuriates me is that many French people consider that
real indie music or rock (and by that I mean the music we praise in Only Angels)
comes from England or from the US of A. They are constantly looking for the
newest little band from the other side of the sea or the ocean and often poorly
consider local bands (or at least groups coming from France) even though they
can be as good as their foreign favourites. When Barb and Seb started Only
Angels, they decided right away that they would not separate famous bands from
demos like many a webzine does and that’s why I asked to join them.
here’s our little should-have-been forensic scene:
Shambly apartment. Rainy evening.
WOOd’s bedroom is overcrowded with books, cds and videotapes spread out on the
floor. SEB WOOd, Blacklisted Igor and two young snobs wearing second-hand
tuxedoes are talking about music and sipping beers.
Seb puts a cd we just received in his player. He explains that Room
204 comes from Nantes and they are going to release their first self-titled
full-length album. The duet’s instrumental music immediately evokes
Chicago’s post-rock scene and therefore when Seb had the cd listened these 2
young snobs wearing second-hand tuxedoes, they started to howler, they started
2 young men in tuxedo make a fuss claiming: ‘I’d rather listen to my
‘What’s your problem ? Is it the fact they are French ? Come on, You can’t
even take the accent for an excuse, their music is instrumental except for
discreet spoken samples here and there which are brilliantly under-mixed (‘60°N’)…
2 young men wearing tuxedos: ‘Well, it sounds like Purr…’
(getting itchy): ‘No, the atmosphere is closer to Ulan Bator and the music
could be compared to Billie Mahonie’s The Bid Dig in the sense that
most of these instrumental tracks alternate delicate crystal-clear arpeggios
with staccato overdriven riffs…but it is a bit slower, more hypnotic and not
2 young men wearing tuxedoes: ‘May we play something else ? Labradford is
perfect for smoking weed…’
Igor (whispering to SEB WOOd): ‘I feel like taking these morons to
Death Valley or at least an oral version of it’.
‘Come on please, mind my apartment and my evening. If you lose your temper,
you’ll be blacklisted in additional places.’
‘Ok, I’ll try to keep it all inside but if it wasn’t for your apartment…
The 2 young men wearing tuxedoes: ‘Hey, we have this brilliant idea: we should play Eureka!’
B.I.: ‘Fuck you, fuck Eureka. I want to listen to this cd. If Seb had lied and told you morons that Room 204 was from Chicago’s suburbs, you would have begged him to lend you the cd and if he’d have turned you down, you would have made your sick souls wander straight up on the net to download the album. Your problem is that Room 204 are from France.’
At this point, Seb felt the oral fight coming up and immediately shifted the conversation’s interest to girls, which is, around here, less an important matter than music (well, except if it deals with Barbara’s love life).
/apr 1st 2003/