What a blast
What does it feel like after 8 months of live dieting?
The first challenge was to get together and see where the band stood in terms of cohesion, precision, energy, and endurance (for me, at least). So we did three long rehearsals at Luna Rossa (a super nice set of studios in southern Paris), playing through the set list we had planned for Saintes twice during each rehearsal. Those three sessions confirmed that we (I) would be able to deliver the show on Friday.
Since I hadn't used my equipment much over the past eight months, I tested it the day before, because, well, equipment that hasn't been used for a while might not work when you start using it again, so it's worth checking, especially since I'd had a few minor wireless issues (at least that's what I thought), without really looking into where the problem was coming from, as it was only occasional. So, I checked everything on Thursday evening, the day before the gig: everything was working great, no problems, yeah!
That'll be the day!
Up at 7:00 a.m., Ferdinand, our sound engineer, has already been waiting outside my apartment for half an hour. He comes up. Coffee. Jean-Marc Cour Supreme's singer and bass player) shows up an hour later, we load up and head out. It's already over 86°F this Friday morning, and it's going to get hotter throughout the day, reaching 95 or 97°F. The trip goes well, not too many people, we don't get lost, we chat quietly, it's just a little bit hot and the minivans feel a bit like an aquarium. We arrive in Saintes an hour before the get-in, Gilles (Cour Supreme's drummer) joins us, let's go!
We watch Ko Ko Mo's soundcheck. They're very professional and cool, but the stage is in direct sunlight and our soundcheck is at around 3:30 p.m., the hottest time of the day. Once Ko Ko Mo's setup has been moved to the sides of the stage, we set up ours with the help of volunteers and technicians, and Ferdinand gets behind the console. Guitar-wise, I plug everything in and tune up. I strum my first chord...
And then disaster strikes!
I get a weak sound that would barely fill a phone booth... Tough going! We're in the blazing sun, literally melting like ice cream. My T-shirt becomes a mop in less than two seconds, my cap a sponge, and the gear is boiling hot. I try different things that allow me, despite the intense heat, the pressure of time ticking away and the resulting inner tension, to roughly identify the problem, but it's too slow. It's definitely too hot to think efficiently.
Five minutes before the end of the soundcheck, I plug directly into the amp, bypassing the effects pedal board that I suspected of high treason, and we managed to do a vague line check during which I played like a fool, my mind preoccupied, with a sound that is not my usual sound. Needless to say, if I had been part of the organizing team, I would have had some serious doubts.
However, my tests allowed me to determine that the problem was somewhere around four effect pedals. Since there was no way that a technical glitch was going to ruin the stage comeback that the three of us had been waiting eight months for, I decided to stay in the backstage area, reassemble the guitar set and reconnect everything until it worked, letting the others go to the hotel and take a shower. After half an hour, my suspicions narrowed to two pedals. Since they were the ones I used the least and I didn't want to waste any more time, I removed them from the chain, rewired everything, and got my sound back: powerful, chrome-plated, reassuring.
Phew!
Stéphane (our assigned driver) picks me up, and Gilles, who had stayed there, also returns to the hotel. Jean-Marc and Ferdinand are still there, so we take a quick shower and go have dinner on a riverboat. It's a pleasant moment, and serenity returns. It feels good. At the end of the meal, we still have 45 minutes before the show.
I have to tell you that for the past two years, we've been jinxed: at the release concert for our album Hot Sauce, the date was changed by the venue and ended up falling on the day of a PSG-Real Madrid match, which deprived us of at least half of our potential audience. The same thing happened with the last concert before I was diagnosed, at the Barde Atomique, with I don't know which French national soccer team match (France-England in the World Cup quarterfinals, I think). Today's concert continues the curse, as we're playing at the same time as the France-New Zealand match, which is opening the Rugby World Cup. We'll still have a crowd, but fewer people than if there were no match. It's a shame for the festival, because the Rock School in Saintes has worked hard to put together a great lineup, in comfortable conditions for both the artists and the audience. If you're in Saintes, check it them out, they're passionate about what they do and work hard all year round.
Show!
After the initial apprehension (will everything work this time?), we dive in. The first few songs require our full attention, and we keep all our sensors open. We perform as intended, and I feel a genuine sense of joy being back in front of an audience, with my bandmates and my sound surrounding me. Finally, I am back! If you've never been on stage, you have no idea how much you miss it when you can't do it anymore. If you play live regularly, I don't think I need to tell you. I can see and feel that all three of us are happy to experience these sensations again after eight months. A couple of songs in, the audience gets into it too, and we start to really let loose. Carried by this wave of positivity, I let myself go completely, just like my two bandmates, and the more we play, the more we rock. I feel great. Apparently, the audience had a blast too. Perfect evening.
Unfortunately, I can't attend Ko Ko Mo's concert in front of the stage. The lighting technician warned me about their extensive use of strobe lights, which I need to avoid because of my metastases in my brain put me at risk of having a seizure (plus I had forgotten my medication at the hotel), but I listened from a backstage and, honestly, these guys are only 30 years old, but they already have it all figured out. Not only are they classy on stage, they're also really cool guys, and breakfast at the hotel the next morning leads to some great conversations, including some very interesting exchanges with Warren (guitarist and singer) about finding the right sound as a duo or trio, the solutions we've found, writing parts, etc. The icing on the cake was when Warren told me that he had been watching me the night before from the side of the stage, thinking he knew me but couldn't figure out where from. Then he realized I was the guy in the La Boîte Noire videos he used to watch when he was 15 or 16 on YT. That's one of the upsides of being older.
Chill and back
The next morning, we meet up with some friends, (all former residents of Ile de France who have found their place in Charente-Maritime), in the beautiful pedestrian streets, not far from the banks of the Charente. Saintes is really pretty and peaceful. The return journey is uneventful, everything is going smoothly, both literally and figuratively.
Personally, I received and felt a lot of love during that weekend, coming from all sides: former students, family, friends, blog readers, colleagues, and musicians, all happy to see Cour Supreme back on stage, to see that I was ready to go, and that everything was going well. It really gave me a boost; that's not just a figure of speech. So thank you to everyone, and once again, well done to the Rock School in Saintes and all its volunteers for their hard work, kindness, calm, and impressive professionalism for a first festival.
See you next year...
