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 Fete de la Musique: Paris is a fete alwaysby Cara Black
Music everywhere. In a culture where among five million people, one child out of two, plays a musical instrument, how could it be otherwise? The fete, a way to bring people out on the streets and together, and in the case of last year, a way to release energy and tension from the elections and Chiracs defeat of strong showing Le Pen. An underlying release with political overtones, as my French friend told me...'we needed to let loose!' Another friend refused to leave her quartier...'I stay in ma ville, won't get near the Metro, and look for the concert trained flutist and the Senegalese oud player who live on my street and play on boulevard de Belleville.' In 1982, the Fete, a largely spontaneous event, began with a gathering of professional and amateur musicians as a way to express themselves. Now, in partnership with the Ministry of Culture and aided by the Police Prefecture, the Fete's focus balances all kinds of music giving an equal place to amateur musicians, rock, jazz, singing and a renewal of traditional music, world music, the development of choirs, the appearance of rap, techno, the revival of musical carnivals. Everyone participates, from the Opera houses, to national and regional Orchestras, Chamber music ensembles, Conservatories, Music schools. Built on institutions yet choosing - like music itself - to live its life in the streets, the Festival is carried along by the people who bring it to life. My adolescent son and his friends opted for Lenny Kravitz. However, as they later told me it was impossible to leave the Square du Temple so they stayed in the Marais eating frites on the rue and joining dj 's with portable turntables on rue de Bretagne. We aimed for the Left Bank where crowds spilled from café's in the warm night and met up with Pierre-Olivier, a mec in the know, and found a hip-hop semi salsa band, an eclectic wonderful mix, then journeyed to Place de Furstemburg for a sing-along of traditional country songs with an accordianist passing out sheet music and the words. We swayed with the Parisians, massacring the words and laughing. Our search for bossa-nova proved elusive though Pierre-Olivier insisted someone played that in St. Germain. Weary and feet aching, we made it back to the Marais, found our son and tried to sleep but the sounds of music echoed all night and into the morning. Tiens, only in Paris! |
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