Rock en Seine, Paris. Review (Faith No More, The Horrors and More)

You would never have known there was a festival on as you approached Pont de St-Cloud on Saturday 29th August. The trains were sparsely crowded with the usual mixture of commuters, tourists and kids. Only walking up to the densely foliated parks, did crowds begin to assimilate and flow into the slipstreams. Promoters handed out everything that one might require for the festivities, programmes were supplied free of charge, as were condoms, earplugs and various other memorabilia. It was a great introduction to how the French manage their festivals, and manage them well they do.

The surroundings were so picturesque they belied the nature of the event in the best possible way. At no point did I see the thronging crowds of yahoos that exist at the likes of Oxegen, Electric Picnic or Glastonbury. Gone were the screeching hordes that act as if they were just let out of the house for the first time. Replaced were they with amiable, pleasant people in their thousands. I was confused and a little bewildered. More so once again when we sampled some of the amazing food that was on offer. The bars never had more than two or three people in front of you and accepted cash!

We wandered through the galleries and poster exhibitions that were on display and idled away a few hours underneath the shady trees until it was time for the first act, one which we (Lady P and I) had been anticipating greatly since seeing the lineup several months previously. Kitty, Daisy & Lewis is a (very) young London band, comprising of the synonymous Kitty, Daisy and Lewis Durham (and their parents). Their style is that of classic swing and rock and roll (I am not going to use the term Rockabilly, because it’s connotations of late have been more style oriented than musically descriptive). Switching instruments between each track, the siblings display something resembling a sixth sense when it comes to timing. They play off each other’s abilities and seem to be challenging each other within the songs, in regards to the impromptu tonal and pace changes that pepper the tracks. The crowd seemed mostly unfamiliar but exceptionally eager and they were met with a great response which is encouraging. Authentic is a dangerous word to use when describing anything, but I really feel that there is something timeless and beautifully imperfect about them which in turn serves to accentuate their unique and captivating presence. The setlist featured two covers, Johnny Horton’s ‘Mean Son Of A Gun’ and Canned Heat’s ‘Going up the Country’, both were met to rapturous applause. It was almost a shame to see them so early on in the day, as judging by the amount of dancing that was going on, a later slot would have guaranteed that the whole floor would have been swinging like it was prom night on Happy Days. (Kitty, Daisy & Lewis are signed to Sunday Best Recordings and seem to be on tour all of the time.)

A later set for K, D & L may have also meant that we could have missed some of the bends that we did see with more desirable slots. The Noisettes were so pointless and squeaky that I won’t even bother to elaborate any further. I’m sure they have their fans, but I don’t have anything nice to say and as my Granny always says…….

After The Noisettes, The Asteroids Galaxy Tour was up next. Now, I’m not going to win any friends with this one, but when I see someone walk onstage in oversized sunglasses, with a gold sparkly jacket and gold tights on, sporting the trendiest of trendy hair and then proceed to squeal incoherently over some insipid blibbidy bloop beats that don’t go anywhere, things are not off to a good start. My instincts were correct and after Lady P wittily dubbed them as The Hemmorhoid Galaxy Tour, we agreed that would be a good high note to leave on.

There were a few weird times during the festival when there was only one band playing, which could be heard echoing across the park. This was a bit odd, but the atmosphere was so relaxed that nobody minded, it gave for good time to get a few beers in and take another wander around the amenities. The crowd gathering for Ebony Bones was impressive in size, but unwilling to give away my energies to stand whilst there were luscious embankments to rest upon; observation was chosen in relation to participation. I doubt that I would have lasted too long anyway. EB lie somewhere between Fela Kuti and Basement Jaxx, except done very ham fistedly and having the downfall of being far too inane and saccharine. Day-glo felt costumes, endless shout outs to things like ‘Adversity’ and ‘Being different’ started to get on my nerves, especially when combined with entire songs in which every second line is ‘Now jump to the left, now jump to the right, now take a step forwards, now take a step back’, I’m not five, I hate the hokey cokey and I don’t want to play, needless to say, toys were gathered, gardens were left.

I was cheered up instantly by Dananananaykroyd! I love happy Scottish bands, they’re so much more fun than the misanthropic, yet fingernail removingly twee and painfully stylish ones (Camera Obscura you sit back down right now!). Just hearing someone with a strong Glaswegian accent announce ‘Hallow, we’re Dananananaykroyd!’ made me smile with so much glee you could have used it to bring a dead horse back to life. I was really surprised with how heavy they were live, so much shouting! So many really nice riffs! They were like a cute little Fugazi, and that’s not a comparison I make glibly. A band who are, dare I say it ‘fun’. You may not like them on record (they under whelm in that respect a little) but live, they are a must see.

The Horrors were next and they not only lived up to, but surpassed any preconceived ideas that I may have held. Thoroughly enjoying their debut when it was released several years ago, I was an enthusiastic champion of them, especially in the face of such adversity as all of my mates slagging me off and saying that they were shit. Well, I now have fewer friends and love The Horrors more than ever. Now, before you begin the onslaught, please be advised that I am aware of the arguments. I know that they sound like Joy Division; I know that they’re so Shoreditch that it hurts; I know that there are several other huge influences that bear down on their shoulders, threatening to disallow them to justify themselves. Faris stalked around the stage like some sinewy, goth mantis whilst the introduction of ‘Mirrors Image’ drifted through the trees like acrid, translucent smoke. The domination of the synths and bass being more reminiscent of ‘Pornography’ era Cure than anything else. And this is a bad thing for absolutely no reasons at all.

Highlighting both albums and captivating all who witnessed, The Horrors not only portrayed themselves as musicians who are more than ready to take on the world, they have settled into themselves so much more within the last two years. Just off the back of a support slot with Nine Inch Nails on their later tour, their fans extend as far as Faith No More, who referenced them directly in their set later in the night. They will have their haters and they will certainly take a lot of flack with their ascension, but I have a feeling that we are yet to see the best work from this band. They pulled off bleakness and desolation during the brightest part of the day; now get me to a smoky underground club with them as the headliners and we’ll talk then.

Unfortunately, this elation was somewhat short-lived, as to attain a good spot for Faith No More, it would be necessary to endure an entire set from The Offspring on the main stage. Not even alcohol or nostalgia could rectify the effects of this band. I admittedly used to like them when I was about 13 and ‘Smash’ came out, although their late 90’s return with such ‘classics’ as ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’, ‘Why Don’t You Get A Job’ and ‘Hit that’ simply annoyed me, having more sense by that stage. This was an almost two hour ideal of songs that I had happily forgotten existed until now. I was amazed when this bleached haired group of elderly gentlemen continued to play on, and on, and on…….. The crowd loved it and they have no small following (outnumbering the number of Faith No More t shirts on display that day easily), announcing that they were happy to have the number one rock album in France that week. Oh dear.

The awfulness continued for some time, with Dexter Holland having the audacity to send Grandpa Noodles and the gang away whilst he subjected us to a solo piano performance which made my bum rumble and the middle of my brain itch. Still, it ended and like any successful campaign we stood in our conquered spaces, front and centre, exactly where I like to be. Then there was the wait……..

This

Went

On

For

Quite

Some

Time

Well over an hour in fact, whilst they played us Abba songs and people smoked a lot. This was a long hot hour, feeling the occasional slimy passing of an exhausted reveller making their way to less crowded climes. The red curtain was up, Mike Bordin’s drum kit was on display and I reflected briefly on just how amazing their Download show was a few months previously and the initial excitement and anticipation that I had felt returned in electrifying sensation.

Then it was time.

Gliding onto the stage and launching into the now familiar ‘Reunited’, the band once again generated a feeling of elated relief and joy, the sharp exhalation of an entire generation, fulfilling one of their musical cravings that they never thought would be satisfied. Faith No More are well and truly back, over this summer they have become the talk of the forums, the seasoned concert goers and the bloggers, and every positive word is entirely validated. The band know this as well, they never disappoint and tonight was no exception.

Forsaking first leg second track ‘The Real Thing’ for ‘From Out Of Nowhere’ the crowd exploded. A sea of bodies rushed, swelled and swayed like a powerful current. This was not assisted in any way by the one flailing drunk who kept trying to send us both under so that he could take our spots. After an entire song of getting elbowed incessantly by this nine foot douchebag, I did the only thing that a man should do when presented with such buffoonery and I punched him hard upside the head, which made him go away promptly. The force from FNM continued with ‘Be Aggressive’ which continued the frenzy, albeit in a far more civilized fashion at this point. The favourites continued to be exhibited as ‘Caffeine’, ‘Evidence’ & ‘Surprise! You’re Dead.’ maintained a heavy, fast paced vibe which solidified FNM’s status as rock legends.

Patton has a beautiful awkwardness when he talks to the crowd, a modesty that belies his infamous onstage demeanour. Billy Gould was thrust prominently to the front of the bass heavy sound for the night, to wonderful results; this added heaviness and vigour to the show. When this element is combined with Puffy’s drumming and Bottum’s astounding keyboard skills, you have a magical outcome. John Huston erases all requirement of big sick hairy ugly Jim Martin (I think it was Metal Hammer or Raw used to religiously refer to him that way). There were some nice setlist changes from the first leg of the tour including ‘King for a Day’, ‘Just A Man’, ‘Midnight Cowboy’ and ‘I Started A Joke’ (All of which were magnificent, especially Patton making everybody give jazz hands for ‘Just A Man’).

Halfway through ‘Midlife Crisis’ during the breakdown, they threw in the Eastenders theme song, complete with whistling section, which was glorious, if a little lost on the majority of the audience. ‘The Gentle Art of Making Enemies’, ‘Ashes to Ashes’ and ‘We Care A Lot’ were stormed through with such force that the crowd were now feeling the fatigue. No less enthusiastic, just more eager to stand back and watch, enjoying for what will be many, a once in a lifetime chance to see their idols. It is not known how long this reunion will last, and so every fan is taking the opportunity to witness them with a reverence and admiration that would warm the coolest of hearts. A fabulous performance and another fantastic evening spent in the company of a band who may be more relevant now than ever before.

We though it was all over. A bit battered and sweaty, we strolled towards the far stages where, to our amazement not only all the bars and merch stalls were open, but the bands were still performing. This was unusual to find after the main stage has cleared, the last act on the second stage being Birdy Nam Nam. Their stage set up was equal to that which I have seen Kraftwerk and Daft Punk use, towering layers of luminescence split the silhouettes of thousands as some severe and enthralling turntablism was taking place. The four French DJ’s created everything from their decks and using the skills that they displayed at the 2002 DMC’s, combined with a wry awareness of electro and techno, blew me the hell away. We spent the next hour dancing like it was 1994.

Overall, the organization was excellent, the bands superb. The experience was sublime and the memories fantastical.

Here’s to next year.

(For more Mike Patton goodness, click HERE for an hour of his best tracks, for FREE!)

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