Tears of a clown

>> Our most sensitive correspondent assesses les Francofolies

by LE PIERROT

As I, le Pierrot, thinks about it now, bathed in the light of the moon which is so sweet like honey, a single tear she falls down my cheek. Le Pierrot tilts the head to the side, touches my lovely rose which is always in my hand, and drifts back to my homeland like a little baby in a basket on a sea of sweet milk.

Ah, la France. How le Pierrot misses you, my dear bosom of my mother. Le Pierrot, he is missing the delicate odours of snails cooked in garlic butter, of freshly-baked croissants, of ripe garbage in the alleyways and half-smoked Gauloises smouldering in puddles of red-wine vomit. Le Pierrot he miss the pleasant nature of the waiters in the Parisian cafés and the humble charm of the Arab cab drivers. France, my dearest beloved, le Pierrot misses you.

My tiny little heart, he dances like a cabaret showgirl at this time every year, for this is the time when my beloved France comes to me here in the land of my exile (a long story involving ignoble cowardice in the face of enemy fire--Indochine, this was not a time and place for poets and dreamers). Francofolies, he is called, this special time when minstrels and jongleurs assemble to share their dreams and secrets in the tongue of Moliere.

Cognac with Serge

One of the dearest friends of le Pierrot, he is this audacious rascal Arthur H. What daring he is displaying, establishing himself on the stage of Salle du Gesu alone, in a solo performance, his soul of an artist naked for all to see and maybe to laugh at, who is knowing this? For you silly English, le Pierrot will explain that Arthur, he is maybe a little bit the Tom Waits of France, except perhaps not so capable in a battle with the fists, no? Arthur, my friend, he is playing tonight and again tomorrow night, Thursday and Friday, July 27 and 28.

Another special friend of le Pierrot is the one who is called simply by one letter, and this is the letter M. He and le Pierrot are having a special understanding, sharing a deep comprehension of our feminine sides. Sometimes, this naughty M is even stealing the makeups from le Pierrot, but then he is coming and weeping in apology below the window of his friend le Pierrot which is looking upon the glory of l'Arche de Triomphe (before the military police is coming so rudely, putting le Pierrot under arrestation and humiliating him in public, accusing him of unmasculine behaviour). M, he is playing at le Spectrum on Thursday, August 3.

Also, there is this crazy one, Katerine, who is having the name of a girl but the soul of a man, one with knuckles full of hair. He is maybe a bit like the great Serge Gainsbourg, who was also mixing pop music and the avant-garde. Le Pierrot, always was he visiting old Serge, for a glass of cognac--L'chaim!--and a ribald joke or two, but now these days they are gone. Perhaps Katerine will join le Pierrot for a cognac and a gentle laugh, after he makes his shows at Salle du Gesu on Saturday and Sunday, July 29 and 30.

Lovely Ritas

There is then as well les Rita Mitsouko, this special pair who made the video clips that were perhaps like letters to a lost friend for le Pierrot, when he began his long exile here in the colonies. Always so stylishly French, these two there, with the dirty hair and bags under the eyes, and the little oily moustache on Fred. They make a second concert at Metropolis on Sunday, July 30, because the first concert he was so popular and all the tickets have been purchased.

There is so much more at Francofolies for le Pierrot to tell you about. From Belgium there comes the lovely Axelle Red, this charming chanteuse who is winning so many prizes on the continent. There is also Faudel and Rachid Taha, both of whom make the pop music of the troublesome Maghrebis. Late in the night there are the DJ parties at le Shag, a delightful club in the Wyndham Hotel, where there is playing les Jardiniers and even this DJ T'cha. And what of the music of Mali, with the famous Ali Farka Touré? So much magic in the language of romance! Again, le Pierrot finds a single tear falls down his cheek. But this tear, she is a tear of joy! :