Yesterday was the solstice, the first day of summer, and the weather arrived accordingly. It was thus the perfect day for the annual Fête de la Musique. Musicians of all kinds play all over France throughout the day. In Paris, there were hundreds of performances alone to choose from. But rather than strategize, I just wanted to roam and see what I’d find. I headed out at 6:00 to meet friends and do a lazy crawl around the Marais and Bastille area. Here’s the musical collage I experienced:
Down Boulevard Beaumarchais – There are tons of people out! It’s well over 80 degrees F and Parisians have abandoned the scarves and layers of clothes they usually wear, even when it’s in the 70’s. People of all ages are Velib’ing, strolling, smiling. It’s infectious. Some French-Indian guy stops me and asks me to be a sari model for his photography project (it took three times before I fully understood). No, sorry, got people to meet and music to see! I pass a Nirvana cover band (no audible French accent, but not gritty enough to sound like Kurt Cobain). I find my friends and we happen upon a funk-soul cover band. They’re fun and we stop for a while to bob our heads to Stevie Wonder and Finley Quaye, but bolt when we hear the opening bars of a Doobie Bros. tune.
At Place de la Bastille – We pause at the large stage and catch the tail end of Pascale Picard, a popular French-Canadian chanteuse. She’s a tad Lilith Fair but with slightly more edge. The crowd is big, and keeps getting bigger. I’m pleased to notice that Parisians of all ages are out and taking part in the festivities. A couple people are illegally selling beers and keeping an eye out for the cops. Then Mademoiselle K comes on and proceeds to rawk! They have a Le Tigre-esque sound with more dissonant guitar thrown in. I like it. Eventually it’s time to meet up with some other friends. The couple I’m with want to Velib to our destination, but I choose to walk as it’s not far and I want to take in the unexpected musical surprises along the way.
Around Place des Vosges – I pass six extremely different musical arts within ONE BLOCK. Yet, oddly enough, they are spaced out enough so as to not interfere with the others’ sound. I see: 1. I don’t know how else to describe it other than, clowns-meet-marching band. They have the horns. They have the marching drum. They have the right sound. But they are dressed really eccentrically; the band leader is sporting a row of broom bristles on his head. The crowd is loving them, at any rate—Parisians are not so disaffected that they won’t to clap to the beat!
2. African drumming circle. Always great.
3. Bagpipes and traditional Breton dancing.
4. Organist playing a requiem.5. Chorus belting out a traditional French song. Lyrics had been handed out to the crowd, so anyone could join in.
6. Young rock band. Harmonic guitars, perfect on a warm summer evening.
Past Parc Royal – A French solo-artist tries his best with “These Boots Were Made for Walking,” but he’s no match for Nancy Sinatra. Young girls slowly amble with guitars, just strumming and softly singing folk songs.
On the wide expanse of rue des Quatre Fils – A barbeque! And a DJ spinning some rather fabulous Brazilian-sounding stuff. Kids are dancing. Adults are dancing. Note to self: come back here in a little while.
Up rue des Haudriettes – A not-so-good 90’s cover band. I don’t think I’ve heard “Losing My Religion” and the Four Non-Blondes since the 90’s, and this is the last place I expected to do so. I reach my destination of the teeny Place Vivien, find my friends, settle in with a pint, and enjoy some traditional Irish music. The musicians teach some volunteers a dance (no jig, bummer) and it’s a soothing spot for une petite pause from the crowds.
But we get restless eventually so we wander back to the dance party/barbeque, which is raging with lots of young people, but also a considerable amount of families. It’s almost dark at 10:45, but not quite. (It is solstice, after all, and Paris is on higher longitude than you might think.) We grab beers and grilled merguez sandwiches, and enjoy the DJ’s offerings, which evolve past Latin beats into stranger, very eclectic territory—some hip-hop, some funk, a large helping of 80’s, and my personal highlight, a kind of 60’s dancefloor cover of Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name Of.” Must find this track. We while away a couple hours here and eventually bed calls.
Thankfully I’m a five-minute walk from home. People are still going full force! I wish I had their stamina. I laugh a little as I come across a band playing “Under the Bridge” in front of (of all places) my bank. (More 90’s covers? More American music?) Some twentysomethings zoom by on Velibs and sing along: “It’s the city I live in…” Oh happy night.
I wish they had this festival more than once a year.
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