Fête de la musique -- Round One!

Fête de la musique – a solstice celebration that happens all over France on June 21. Every town and village plans musical events for the day. Montpellier has a whole evening of music planned, from a children’s chorus to Vivaldi to opera and on into pop/rock until the wee hours. I think each neighborhood also has plans; we’ll have to see. But this morning we had our first event.

It was at an office complex for Groupama, a major insurance company in France. Their headquarters in the South of France is a few blocks from where we live: a complex of 4-story buildings around a couple of squares (I believe it would be called a “campus” in Silicon Valley lingo). Tables of food and drink had been set up, and there was a DJ and large speakers. We wandered around, checking out the scene and drinking this very fine punch we were offered. White wine, I think, with sparkling water? No, probably champagne with citrus. Good, anyway. Potato chips, slices of pizza, peanuts. Each table had mineral water, both flat and bubbly, and Coke, and… what’s this? Pernod 51! This is the good stuff, with 51% alcohol, better than the cheaper “45.” Plus the requisite pitches of ice water.

Pernod is a large producer of pastis, an anisette liquor, THE thing to drink and share with friends here in the South of France; I first encountered it when I was here in the ‘70s and have had a soft spot for it ever since. It’s clear and colorless, mysteriously turning cloudy when diluted with cold water – the proper way to enjoy it.

And, boxes of wine on the end of the table, red, white, and a large box of rosé. Apparently no one was expected to be productive that afternoon! Because this seemed very much like a celebration for the people that worked for Groupama, although no one questioned our presence (nor, for that matter, even spoke to us!) Looking around, I noticed the dress was casual, jeans and tee shirts, although as usual the women we a bit more stylish than the men with some skirts and embroidered tops. Lots of flats and sandals on the women, although some high heels as well. For the men, it was mostly sneakers.

The music was heavy with ‘80s disco (the BeeGees!), then moved on to some French equivalents. Jose Feliciano and “Bleu de pinte de bleu” in Italian with a Flamenco style. A French singer doing something very Country-Western-ish. A group of women started doing a Western line dance. (Some were pretty good – clearly, not their first rodeo.)

Meanwhile, the men were standing over there, smoking and drinking. (Reminiscent of a high school prom?) I figured as the level in the bottles dropped, that would change, and people would mingle! But we didn’t stay around long. Feeling just a bit like intruders, we slowly made our way out.

But, not before the flats of apricots arrived! Luscious, juicy, and fresh off the trees. We had a few, then a few more on the way out.

Why were we here, anyway, at this office party? Funny story, glad you asked.

We’d been there the day before, looking for a place to buy a CD, the CD of some musicians we’d listened to. And the Groupama complex was used as a landmark; the musicians were right across the street. So the day before we had been here, fumbling around looking for the studio. Instead we found an employee restaurant, with not-bad prices, and were graciously told that we were certainly welcome to eat there. And, we saw the poster about the musical event on the Fête de la musique.

OK, but who were these musicians, and why were we looking for them?

It all started Saturday night, when we came back from our three-day trip to Perpignan and environs. We were pretty bushed when we got home, and settled in for the night. But, I really wanted a roast chicken. We checked with our local guy (every neighborhood has boucheries, butcher shops, many of which have chicken rotisseries). But he’d just gotten his birds started; we’d need to come back later. So it was almost 9PM as were we headed home, a poulet roti and some wonderful roast potatoes in our shopping bag, when we heard the music near our place.

We entered an unpretentious alley which opened into an open-air concert scene, three musicians on an improvised stage and 30 or 40 people in folding chairs. They were playing their own interpretations of a well-beloved French folk singer, Georges Brassens. I was quite fond of his music, having listened to it extensively in the ‘70s and ‘80s. But these interpretations were, well, quite interesting. They were called Brassens L’Irlandais, Brassens in an Irish style. What!? There was a fiddle player doing some fine Irish jigs, Western hoe-down, and maybe even a little Zydeco. The guitarist/ singer put a whole new spin on these songs, with an animation I had never imagined. And he was aided by a really solid female singer. We were transfixed!

After the concert we went up to talk to the musicians. The lady, Daniele, was selling CDs, but I realized I'd spent all my money on the chicken. Dang! I had this fantasy they'd accept the chicken in trade for a CD, but that was not offered. But Daniele took an interest, gave us an address where we could get a CD the next day, plus email and a phone number.

Monday, we were out and about and went by the place she mentioned, across from the Groupama complex, which was only a few blocks from where we lived. After finding the address and the closed store front, we followed our noses and went around in back, where there seemed to be a lot going on -- no one around but cars parked, clothes hung out, and other signs of life and habitation. One fellow saw us. I'm always ready for someone to shout at me, Hey, you, get offa my cloud! but instead he took us to the musicians.

The musicians were practicing, but were very pleased to stop to talk to us. They were in a large room, with the front furnished with a table and chairs, dishes, sink. The rest of the room was given over to a stage and studio. Daniele recognized us immediately and introduced us around. Georges, the guitarist, was there (not Georges Brassens, he's dead; another Georges), and I was able to thank him personally. He was thrilled. We said we were from California -- always a sure winner -- and they were all interested. No, I said, thankfully we are not from LA; San Luis Obispo. Well, the bassist recognized the name, there's a well-known builder of very fine bass guitars there. So we were all thrilled to see each other, and chatted for a while. I saw a photo on the table of a very young Bob Dylan, and told Georges that the best way I could explain Brassens to Americans was to call him the Bob Dylan of France. They all thought that was pretty good, and Georges mentioned that Dylan was really the first to start writing real poetry as folk songs. (Which is exactly what the other Georges, Brassens, did.)

We would have loved to stay and chat, but clearly they were practicing, and we did not mean to intrude. So we said our goodbyes, hand shaking and bisous all around, and we were back out on the street.

And so THAT’S how we came to be at the Groupama complex at noon on the 21^st of June, La fête de la musique!