Le Mois Français

Current mood: Un peu français
Current music: Reliving the memories of songs

My my, I have grown lazy haven't I? What with the combination of writer's block, apathy, and actually being a busy bee, I haven't written in quite a while. I used to write once a fortnight. I must be getting old or something; the brain's getting rusty, you know...

As far as the 'being busy' goes, last month it was all to do with my choir's concert, when we performed a highly interesting variety of a cappella music from around the world (including a song I wrote and arranged myself, hehe). We did songs from Australia, Nigeria, Norway, the US, and Hong Kong too. Oh, and thanks to the choir publicity, I have managed to get my name in two different newspapers, and made an appearance on TV! We're on the up and up, folks! (Well OK, really it was only a couple of sentences in the paper, and probably less than half a minute of TV footage, but at least they were broadcasting my song. Better than absolument rien.)

This month's 'being busy' mainly involves work, which is not quite as exciting as media appearances, so I shall move swiftly on...

Every May, Hong Kong holds a month-long festival of French culture, which is currently in its 15th year; it's called 'Le French May'. I have problems with this name, because the only French word in it is Le. I rather think it should be called Mai Français for verisimilitude, although admittedly - making the fair assumption that more Hong Kongers know English than know French - it would be harder for the local populace to pronounce. Anyway, the festival includes opera, music, dance, cinema, etc. that has some link (however tenuous) with France.

Being a bit of a culture vulture (especially if said culture is French), I booked myself some tickets to see Emilie Simon, whom I initially knew only as the girl responsible for the soundtrack of the 2005 French documentary, 'La Marche de l'Empereur' (aka 'The Emperor's Journey' or 'March of the Penguins', depending on where you are). I really liked this film (which I reviewed, way back), and remembered the hauntingly surreal electro-pop music that accompanied it, so I thought, 'Why not?' I had no idea what to expect. At the start of the show I saw on stage:

1. A grand piano, sans lid. This was one of the few items recognisable as a musical instrument.
2. A drum. Also recognisable.
3. A large glass bowl of water, with a metal block in it. Not usually associated with music, and in fact it took me a while to work out what it actually was, because from a distance it just looked like an enormous hemispherical glassy paperweight.
4. Some computer gadgets, including a mysterious thing that looks like an empty black photo frame.

The set-up certainly promised an interesting show.

After the usual long wait for something, anything to happen, a tall, skinny figure finally stalked on stage. It was dressed in a long, flappy black coat and a black top hat, and could really only be described as 'odd'. Mr Odd got the ball rolling with his computer wizardry, fooling around with knobs and dials and a lot of (presumably) pre-programmed electronic tracks. He was soon joined by a more regular-looking guy on the drum, and finally Mlle Simon herself floated onstage, barefoot. She looked lovely in a cute little navy-shading-to-black dress, and played an electric guitar with a considerable amount of spunk. She also had a large black gadget strapped to her bare arm, which looked rather uncomfortable - but more on that later.

Picture taken from www.frenchmay.com

Emilie may look slender and delicate and slightly built, but she packed a helluva punch in her powerful voice. She delivered a number of roaring rock songs to get the crowd going (which included quite a lot of French expats - where do they usually hide out, I wonder?) before suddenly changing the atmosphere completely with some calming melodies on the piano. Her 'ballad voice' was much sweeter than her 'rock voice', but with a sort of 'whiny' edge that justifies the description of her as the 'French Björk'. She took us from wild, angry guitar rock to the dreamy soundscapes of electro-pop, with her imaginative lyrics weaving from French to English and back again.

What about all those funky gadgets? Well, the black 'photo frame' device appeared to consist of lights and light sensors, since whenever Mr Odd moved his hand through it, the chords of the electronic track would change. I'm not precisely sure why it was necessary, as surely one could have pre-programmed the whole track, but maybe they used it when someone was improvising and the music would thus vary with each performance. Or maybe it just looked stylish.

The mystery object strapped to Emilie's arm appeared to be some kind of sampler. In one song, she pointed it at the percussionist, recorded what he was playing, and then played it back as the drum beat for that piece. In another song, she sang into it herself, and her voice echoed and bounced around as she kept on singing and sampling. In this way, she managed to more or less accompany herself all the way through. (It would be so much fun to have one of those. Unfortunately I have a feeling that I won't be able to afford it just yet.)

As if all this weren't creative enough, there was the matter of the percussionist: a man who could 'percuss' on anything. Ordinary drums and drumsticks do of course require talent for their operation, but are pretty mundane really. When you can get a good rhythm going by tapping on the inside of a lidless grand piano, and coax different sounds out of it by striking on its strings and wooden body, you're getting good. And when you can tap a military march on the surface of a bowl of water, and perfectly incorporate in your song the chiming gloingoingoing sound of a vibrating metal block being immersed in water, then you're definitely drifting into 'modern art' territory, and I take my hat off to you for being interestingly experimental. (Not, of course, that I ever wear a hat.)

I've just looked at the French May website and found out that Mlle Simon's two supporting musicians are called Cyrille and Cyril, though it is somewhat beyond me to tell you who was who. The trio played a fantastic set, with songs from all three of Emilie's albums, although it was a trifle shorter than I'd have liked; it only lasted about 75 minutes. I guess it must have been pretty tiring to sing for over an hour non-stop. All in all, it was an excellent show. Emilie Simon - creative, versatile, and fun - is a force to be reckoned with, and the pop music industry had better watch out!

From the world of pop music, let us now sashay into the realm of classical music. The other night I went to see a concert by the Hong Kong Sinfonietta, featuring a French guest pianist in - you guessed it - another of the French May shows. The orchestra performed César Franck's 'Symphony in D Minor' - a beautiful piece - and a local composer's original work, called 'Illumination'. This contemporary number sounded like a crescendo several minutes long, and whilst the tremolos and instrumental textures were interesting, the effect of tinnitus caused by too many shrill notes towards the end is not one to be voluntarily experienced more than once. 'Illumination' is best described as 'movie music, but without the movie'.

The guest soloist appeared in only one of the pieces, but he was the true highlight of the evening. For starters, they magically transformed him with the Elixir of Youth before the show:

BEFORE ..................................................................... AFTER

Pictures taken from http://www.frenchmay.com

Amazing, innit? But seriously. The original pianist was Jean-Claude Pennetier (see 'Before', the older man with a greying beard), who cancelled his performance due to 'unforeseen medical reasons', the poor man. Apparently he had severe tendonitis, which sounds awfully painful, and particularly incapacitating for someone whose very career depends upon the fine motor skills of his fingers. I guess it must be an occupational hazard. It's a shame, but such is life (and old age).

His replacement, who was found in a frantic last-minute search by the behind-the-scenes administrators of the Sinfonietta, is also French, which is good because the audience might have felt cheated otherwise. Honestly, there wasn't anything for me to complain about. Quite on the contrary, in fact. The new pianist was Cédric Tiberghien, a rising star in classical piano. He was the winner of the 1998 Long-Thibaud Competition in Paris at the age of 23, and even now, with four solo albums and another four collaborative albums under his belt, he is barely in his 30s (see 'After', the handsome young man with a dazzling smile). Talk about eye candy, eh? Obviously ear candy is of greater importance here, and Cédric didn't disappoint. He strode on stage, confident and smiling, though his great height (I'm not an excellent judge, but he seemed to be approaching 7'!) and rather lean build gave the impression of gawkiness, which made him look younger than his age. However, once he sat down and started playing Sergei Prokofiev's 'Piano Concerto No. 3 in C', one forgot all about his appearance of awkwardness, and could only gaze in awe at the way his sinewy hands flew across the keys.

M Tiberghien displayed an incredible lightness of touch in the wilder passages: sometimes playing with one hand on the black keys and the other on the white, skimming up and down in parallel; sometimes using crossovers, as his hands danced and dipped like a couple performing a particularly complex tango. (I must say, Prokofiev's concerto looks like a fiendishly difficult, but at the same time incredibly fun, piece to play). Such bravura rather contrasted with his more introspective playing. In such moments, he became intensely focused; his nose would be mere inches away from the ivories. He picked out the slinky melody at the start of the final movement with humorously exaggerated care, as if he were privy to a quiet joke Prokofiev had written into the score. Clearly, the man's a natural performer; he knew his stuff, all right.

After the enthusiastic applause at the end of the concerto, he did two solo encores (Hong Kong audiences never feel that they're getting their money's worth without the freebies at the end). The first was Claude Debussy's lively 'Feux d'Artifice' ('Fireworks'), a crowd-pleaser that is probably often used as, although not written specifically for, 'encore music'. The second was a reflective piece he didn't name (I suspect another Debussy Prélude), but essentially gave the message: 'I really appreciate your applause, and you've been a great audience; but I'm getting a bit tired now, so this will be the last encore - how about a quiet little piece to calm you all down?' (A useful ruse, which Emilie Simon also used in her show.) Crowd-calmer though it was, the music was beautiful. After playing its very last note, he held his pose like a statue while the audience held its collective breath; the silence was definitely palpable and the tension, almost unbearable. If he hadn't unfrozen when he did I might've burst into nervous laughter. The applause after this encore was still pretty loud, but by this time the lighting chaps must have decided that enough was enough, because they turned the house lights on.

So that was an evening well spent. You are perfectly welcome to share that concert with me, as I have actually found a live recording of it! Have fun...
http://www.rthk.org.hk/rthk/radio4/satconcert/20070526.html


Continuing with the French theme, I recently saw a film called 'Hors de Prix' ('Priceless'), a romantic comedy starring Audrey Tautou of 'Amélie' and 'The Da Vinci Code' fame. (This doesn't have anything to do with Le French May, but I thought I'd include it anyway.) Audrey plays the charming Irène, a glamorous 'gold-digger' who makes her living by swanning around the luxurious bars and hotels along the French Riviera, and chatting up millionaires - not entirely unlike the character played by a different Audrey some 45 years ago. Enter the barman, Jean, whom she mistakes for a millionaire. They have a couple of brief romantic encounters, but it isn't long before she sees through his pretence in the most embarrassing manner possible. As far as getting the girl goes, things start to look pretty grim for Jean, until he somehow winds up in the position of 'kept man' to a wealthy widow. Soon he has Irène - who now considers him as her equal - interested enough to start giving him expert tips on how to wring the most out of his rich patroness. While the film might be considered 'unrealistic' by some, as it plays down the emotional pain caused by the numerous break-ups that occur in the film, it does manage to avoid becoming overly sentimental in doing so. The result is a film that is more 'comedy' than 'romantic', and even my friend who doesn't usually watch 'rom-coms' thought it was very funny. 'Priceless' is highly suitable for comedy film buffs, fans of Audrey Tautou, Francophiles, and general aspirants to the high life (the list of designer brands in the credits is as long as your arm).

Picture taken from http://www.goldenharvest.com

I also seem to have written a blog entry as long as your arm (well, as long as someone's arm), so this will be as good a point as any to sign off. Until next time, au revoir, mes chers!