Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Saturday, Sept. 09, 2006 - 6:43 p.m.

Okay, so tonight, I went to a taping of this live music performance show here in Paris, called Taratata (taRAtaTA) with Marie-Pierre, Marion, and Sandra. It was, as the kids say, "off the hook." Though not in the way the kids mean it. It was crazy, y'all. I mean crazy. Nuts. Freakishly in-sane. It started with 4 men in blonde shag wigs, light pink women's turtlenecks and bright, lime green boybrief girl's underwear.

I'm not kidding.

And makeup. I forgot to mention the makeup. And silver high heels. We won't delve into the level of package revealability lime green boybrief girl's underwear has. Suffice it to say I could see who hung which direction and who had monster sacks, and leave it at that. (This picture is as close as I can get, and it's different, better hiding underwear, with girls.)

Then their singer came out, and the insanity just quadrupled. His name is Philippe Katerine. Imagine Jack Black as a psychotic frenchman with shoulder-length curly brown hair, probably in his 40's, barechested and wearing boatloads of eyeliner, a ton of big silver chains (and I think a cross), semi-sheer black tights, and a leopard print negligee, and you approach the psychosis. And the crowd Ate. It. Up. Like, they went nuts for it. You never heard such screaming and carrying on. I swear to you guys, I sat there thinking "Holy crap, I am surrounded by lunatics; this culture is crazy. Crazy." I even said it to Marie-Pierre, "your culture is crazy," and she nodded and smiled and kept right on clapping.

That's the other thing. Every song is an audience participation number here. These people do not sit quietly and just enjoy a song. Fast or slow, they clap time to it. Energetically. I'm tellin' you people, it's like visiting another world.

So after Mr. Leopard Print Negligee finished his psychotic little crowd pleaser - during which he entirely milked and encouraged the psychosis and in fact at one point refused to continue singing until the frenzy reached what he deemed a suitable level - he went over to the little interview area, where the show's host, Nagui (nah-gee with a hard 'g') conducted a 5-10 interview which rapidly disintegrated into a discussion of cheese, because Mr. Leopard Print Negligee is funny that way.

If, you know, by funny, you mean "seriously in need of a straightjacket."

I was really kind of terrified he was going to sing a second number afterward, but thank god he did not. I really don't think my eardrums could have taken another 6 minutes of that kind of frenzied lunacy, because it was the loudest freaking thing I've ever heard, and the room was not that big, being about half the size of a regular soundstage, and most of that taken up with equipment and performance space. There were probably only about 500 people in the room, IF that. Thankfully, though, insanity takes a lot out of a guy, and our little paunchbellied, bestockinged leprechaun exited and the next person performed, a perfectly normal girl named Sarah Slean.

Miss Sarah performed a song called "Lucky Me," which I enjoyed quite a bit, and she was a perfectly lovely interviewee who spoke both french and english. I wouldn't mind having her latest album. You can hear "Lucky Me" on her website, on the Ear page, or on her myspace page. She reminded me quite a bit of Tori Amos, but more catchy and enjoyable, and it turns out Amos is one of her favorite artists. La Slean can belt out a song, too.

Some guy named Raphael kept doing duets with people, and his first was with Sarah. I think his record label must be pushing the crap out of him, because frankly, he wasn't all that. And dude, someone needs to pull him aside and tell him there are precious few who can work the all white thing, and he is not one of them. That vee-neck t-shirt was atrocious. We also decided he'd been drinking. And he had a bit of a crosseye thing that was a little distracting. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

That same show (we watched 2), there was a beautiful, insanely sexy boy* named Fabien Cahen who fairly made my mouth water, someone I've already forgotten, and a girl we all decided must sure have been drunk at the very least, whose performance was definitely interesting and the tiniest bit scary. When she collapsed at the end of it, I'm pretty sure she did it on purpose, but only she knows for sure, and I think she shocked pretty much everybody on set, the male members of which all rushed to help her back up. It was her first television appearance, and I think she really must have helped her nerves with a little suh'm-suh'm, because she was really, oh, how shall I put this...blitzed.

* I say boy; he was 33. He didn't look it. And dayam, he was hot. Like, Hot. As in, deeply, deeply f-able. (Bygones)

The second show was lacking in so much drama, which was a bit of a relief, but also made for much more staid viewing. It started with a hack guy named Jude who is obviously taking his act to Europe because he can't hack the US music scene. Understand I don't say this to insult Europe or its musicians, but there's a certain appreciation for Top 40** here that does not exist in the States except among those who embrace Celine Dion with every fiber of their beings, and I think we can all agree that's not a gigantically huge percentage of the population. And trust me; this Jude guy could not cut it in the States like, ever. Blah. He did do a nice cover of the Beatles' "With a Little Help From My Friends," and frankly, he's lucky, because I will brook a lot of things, but screwing up my beloved Beatles live and right in front of me is not one of them. He had help singing it from a girl with an absolutely beautiful voice, named Ayo. Her voice was pretty angelic, and frankly, she made the song. It would have been really boring without her. Insofar as a Beatles song can be boring. You kinda have to work hard to suck the life out of a Lennon-McCartney tune, but he was doing a fairly decent job of it, were it not for her. In his defense, that's not the most hap'nin of the Beatles' tunes, but still. Perhaps he's a perfectly nice, talented kinda guy, but frankly, I just wanted to slap the stuffin' out of him, and none of the songs I've heard from him are what I would really even term serviceable. Ayo also has a myspace page.

** I'm talking Old School Top 40, not the stuff they call Top 40 now, which currently includes Justin Timberlake and Fittycent.

After Jude, there was a Scottish singer named Sandi Thom, who sang a song I didn't really care all that much for called "I Wish I Was a Punk Rocker (With Flowers In My Hair)." It wasn't a bad song, just not my thing. Ms. Thom, however, can belt the crap out of a song, and after that, she sang another song I did like, but I can't remember what it was called. I was shocked she was Scottish, actually, because her music sounds folk-country, and she sounds when she's singing like she fully grew up in the south. Like I seriously coulda fallen over when she opened her mouth and Scottish brogue poured out of it. She has a myspace page too, but the laptop can't hack it. There are some songs on her website available for streaming.

After Sandi Thom, we had another rather beautiful boy with a gorgeous smile I couldn't possibly tell you the name of, and then I think there was someone else utterly forgettable, and that taping was over. In true concert-goer fashion, however, the audience was stomping and clapping and calling for another song. Since Sandi Thom was the most pared down of the musicians there (her first song was a cappella), Nagui asked her if she would please sing one more because it was easiest for her, and she sang a song that's on her website, called "What If I'm Right," which was really good, and then the audience was so into that and so happy, that I saw her look over at her bassist with a questioning look, and he nodded, so she broke into a 4th song, and that one was also good. It was really cool, an impromptu little mini-Sandi Thom concert, and I'm sure her label is gonna pitch a fit over it, but frankly, the spontaneity of the whole thing was really cool and the reason that I will be buying her album. It really was a neat sort of her and us thing, like when you go to a concert and the guy you're paying to see is having such a good time that when the encore is over, he comes over and sits down on the edge of the stage and just noodles around taking requests. Just really cool and intimate.

After that, it was midnight, and we piled into Marie-Pierre's car and drove home. There were other bits of wackiness and crazy french culture in there, but I'm really tired, and it was a long taping, so stuff I told myself to remember has pretty much gone. After the shock of 4 men in lime green boybrief girl's underwear and a blitzed french singer who collapsed at the end of her song, all else pales by comparison and merely serves to add to the circus-like atmosphere, anyway...

And since we're on the subject of music, I am a little disturbed that I am starting to like Christina Aguilera. And I do like "Ain't No Other Man." Especially the lyric, "You got style/You're badass," which completely cracks me up every single time.

I hate, hate, hate Nelly Furtado with the white hot intensity of a thousand supernovas. (supernovae?) And "Maneater" is like the worst, worst, worst song practically ever. The video is just ridiculously stupid. As if ANY of those people would be interested in some skinny, uptight little snit interloping in their cool dance club. She'd get broken in half in like, 2 seconds. *I* could snap her like a twig. And for that matter, probably would, if she started that poser rap crap around me.

Sorry. I just really, really hate that song. Nelly Furtado all ghetto-cool rapchick is just about the most ludicrous thing I have seen in a long time.

Justin, honey? The only way you are ever gonna bring sexy back is by leaving the room.

Thank you.

And on that note, I think I should get in bed. It's 5am here.

Later days,
Katie

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