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Carte postale de Paris
Jun. 30th, 2007 04:12 amFrom top left: o.lamm's computer. Olivier and me at the Palais de Tokyo, where, together with Kumisolo, we saw the Steven Parrino show (posthumous, since this hell rocker died in a motorbike crash a couple of years ago). Not sure if I like the individual works -- too Primal Screamy, too skully -- but the installation was surprisingly elegant as a whole. Later, curator Mathieu Copeland arrived and we chatted in the cafe.
Bottom row: Laila France, aka Samantha Cru, sings "Japanese Especially" and "Wonderhood" at our show at La Fleche D'Or. Kumi sings, amongst other things, "Confiance Absolu", a song she and I co-wrote. Olivier accompanies (his laptop falls to the floor at one point but doesn't seem worse for it). Finally, me in a wig borrowed from Laila, and DJ Kentastic outside Laila's apartment in the 10th arrondissement, near the Canal St Martin.
It was nice to see Abake at the show, and Digiki and Mai Ueda, and Pascale, and Michael Idov, who apologised for writing a bad review of my "Oskar" album (he likes it a lot more now) and promised to review my jokes book for New York magazine.
Paris is dense and intense compared with Berlin. A bit bordelique and aggressive. I get the impression that people here live by charm -- that charm is a matter of life or death here. Also that there are a lot of refined but rather eccentric people here, people who live for culture. And that Paris is a super-concentrated world city in which immigrants quickly learn the importance of a humanist-exoticist charisma, which is the particular, indispensable form of charm that makes them valid in the eyes of the refined, eccentric people. "Love me for my culture," they seem to say to the culture-lovers (singing songs from their home country in the metro for money).
Bottom row: Laila France, aka Samantha Cru, sings "Japanese Especially" and "Wonderhood" at our show at La Fleche D'Or. Kumi sings, amongst other things, "Confiance Absolu", a song she and I co-wrote. Olivier accompanies (his laptop falls to the floor at one point but doesn't seem worse for it). Finally, me in a wig borrowed from Laila, and DJ Kentastic outside Laila's apartment in the 10th arrondissement, near the Canal St Martin.
It was nice to see Abake at the show, and Digiki and Mai Ueda, and Pascale, and Michael Idov, who apologised for writing a bad review of my "Oskar" album (he likes it a lot more now) and promised to review my jokes book for New York magazine.
Paris is dense and intense compared with Berlin. A bit bordelique and aggressive. I get the impression that people here live by charm -- that charm is a matter of life or death here. Also that there are a lot of refined but rather eccentric people here, people who live for culture. And that Paris is a super-concentrated world city in which immigrants quickly learn the importance of a humanist-exoticist charisma, which is the particular, indispensable form of charm that makes them valid in the eyes of the refined, eccentric people. "Love me for my culture," they seem to say to the culture-lovers (singing songs from their home country in the metro for money).