Gonna tell you about prehistoric Neanderthal guitar, riffs paleo-electric. France. Prehistory in France. In France, yeah. As elsewhere, the story it was good while it was running. Even if she was already treading water. But with us in our desolate moors ... On this earth too inhospitable to rock'n'roll, as are the assholes of the States or Iran to jousts John B. root.
you I'm gonna speak to gen at a time without two. Without cause to defend. Without camp to choose. Cause you a big black hole between the son of yéyés one side, and subscribers Grand Exchequer other. Between songs and shapeless trifles "in the text." T'entreprendre nothing.
Oh, you'll have trouble understanding, kid, you discover that a few clicks we've hunted, months or years, and basically we have not found. By grace (?) Of Deezer and Spotify , through the worst of all worst. Oh, you'll have trouble, even at only imagine what those years were Gaullist pompidoliennes and early seven-Giscardian. How could we admit, not even want to admit, how could we even conceive that the lack was our daily ration, when abundance prevails today? How could we alone?
So yes, I know, some years later, everything would open. At top speed, anyhow. Catching up, under the watchful eye of the television authorities and political will really have their boys will be boys. " So take the kids and run, but do not forget, soon it will be the army. Go take " Guilty Razors or Stinky Toys bonus to 17 pm on Wednesday. Panik " die bitch," yelled before Daniel Gilbert . Yes, I know you know I'm not lying. Because thou hast seen these stories, the ones found on YouTube . But whose echo is cathartic death for centuries. You do not know what it was when we took them right in the pear. The first time.
Yes, I know, I've told you already, a few years later we breathe. And then come the abundance, overflow, choking. And without doubt, death, unstoppable, the trick, since there was no effort to do to find it. The abandonment of the Grail, because the quest was over. Yes, that's it, you're right: another era was beginning. And closed a life that had barely begun. Although it should be resolved not to leave.
But how could you understand, kid? At the time My Space.
Desert full? In the years of Stalinist-MJC rococo and Angel pulling the son of Chuck, Magma in Kobaïain? Not entirely. There was still Polnareff , Nino Ferrer and Manset, and even why not say so and I do not care that it make you laugh, Halliday : listening therefore not Play Rock ' n'roll and chained with His Latest Flame (huh, yes it's the same song, the only difference is that you do not hear you not ...). But how Variations or Dynasty Crisis preaching in the Sinai? No it was not the full desert: indeed, some used the rock as it uses a large sedan, even though their creed was elsewhere, such Higelin, who turned quickly to improve the binary to ogle Trénet .
And then there was Chris .
Which brings us finally to our subject. In this case Motors . French label, which on a small twenty years (roughly modo between the mid 60's and early 80's) contributed as much as he could, the fight against the Sahelian landscape rock pop French. And whose signatures were major, just Bevilacqua, his lyricist Jarre (Jean Michel) or ... Bernard Lavilliers first period (that of Etienne ). Launched by an avid jazz much more than pop, Francis Dreyfus , Motors will be the refuge of these proto-pop rockers French, innocent victims of "Too Much Too Soon Class.
Who remembered, frankly, Maxim Rad of Mounsi or former good looks of Asphalt Jungle , Louis Deprestige , to mention only the most recent? And if Alain Kan, through its tortuous path, became a wholly mysterious, has now become a legend, it was not the same with Blue Vamp , rereading his combo Bowie as Palaprat some years earlier , or Leonie . That one, if only this compilation had the power to give it a little light-mail sites and influential blogs, just those you'll read so often, even while ... then would not have been in vain. For listening Alabama , then do a quick comparison, at random, the last album of early
Gainsbourg ... It would be foolish to try to conduct a comprehensive review of this triple CD covers fifteen years via almost as many artists and groups, mostly forgotten today. However less inept to smell the scent. That of the wind that lifts the grain before turning south, the one before haying. The smell ashtrays we have not yet filled. The essence of births. The fumes of germination. The bouquet of a newborn. The atmosphere of the early evening, full of innocence, of hope. From a meeting. From a meeting. Before the life that you always exceed, no striker, undaunted, the gilding on the edges of dishes. Who do not iron.
Dreyfus had picked that thing. For fifteen years, while Delon Lama we used to disappointments, and that without knowing what was expected, perhaps because indistinct had already got it that one day we would feel like the last of Bevilacqua. Yes, I know, girl, you got nothing to piped bullshit.
But who knows ... maybe one day wilt thou return with me, paradise lost?
Compilation Motors Release September 27, 2010 at Hard Motors
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