The night of the First Snow and the Dancing Ban. No car exempt of fingerprints as classical Saturday antics lived on, intoxicated pedestrians grabbing the wet snow between their fingers as if to feel if it is real. Smiley faces drawn on windshields, crude words written on car hoods. People wandering aimlessly at 2:30 in the morning, looking for a place for a last drink and warmth away from the humid chill of the night.
The dance lived strong in the Registratur UG, before the ban operated.
The first dance, of course, was between LeRoy and Mycrotom on the floor-leveled stage, around a a table full of all the tools necessary to create magic in the black and white projection of the Bozo Texino images. An improvisation dance of two hours that started with only a few witnesses, in this new hard-to-find-as-the-basement-doors-are-not-yet-identified venue that just opened. The beer is expensive but the place is cosy, and quickly, the audience members in the front make themselves comfortable along walls and against the bar or the steel columns and enjoy this hidden, not-advertised-properly show in front of them.
LeRoy told be beforehand not to expect too much from this gig : it’s not a Das Hobos gig, Emilie. No, it kind of wasn’t, it was actually more than that. Two hours, two immersive hours into the sampling banks and rhythms and guitar riffs of these two wonderful musicians that I admire so much. They have been playing together for so long now, these two, between Das Hobos and The Rhytm Police and other things I don’t know about yet, that they can plug their instruments in a sound system and, yes, dance together into a syncronicity that is quite devastating. Bold gestures from LeRoy’s sampling machine are answered by Mycrotom’s sensible touch on his drum pads with disarming ease. And it goes on and on, like waves crashing onto a beach, in the fluid motion of the tide rising.
Two hours of improvised build-up, slowly and wisely orchestrated, with some SMS aesthetics that had me shake with enthusiasm, leading to Das Hobos hits (I am still slightly overwhelmed by that slow White Lines construction before they started the playback to the original track honestly) and, surprise, LeRoy’s Untitled Long Time. Two hours of recieving this gift of a performance. I’ve been wanting to see these guys live for so long, and they exceeded all the very high expectations that I had.
DJ BELP then took over, surfing on this marvelous tide
(lol, Tidal Wave) built by Das Hobos. As the clock was ticking before the Dancing Ban operated, everything was allowed. BELP is bold, and sometimes, more conservative audiences don’t get his touch. But tonight, in this manic energy, in the strobing fluorescents, in the thick haze of the smoke machine and cigarettes that filled the underground club, the vibe was definitely there and BELP delivered a glorious, sometimes fucked-up (‘Listen ! He’s gonna fuck it up now ! Yessss!’) but always on point set.
A First Snow and a Dancing Ban. A kick in the ass of the young souls of this conservative city…