En coulisse | Au camp des artistes

À 15 minutes du Vieux-Noranda, plongée dans la wildlife abitibienne, la base de plein air du Lac Flavrian accueille les musicien-nes pour la durée du festival. Dès les concerts terminés au centre-ville, la fête se poursuit au camp jusqu’aux lueurs de l’aube, illuminée par des feux sur la grève et des conversations de dortoirs.

On l’appelle affectueusement : le « camp où on ne dort jamais ».

Heure de réveil moyenne : 11h

12h : Heure de pointe à la cafétéria. Les artistes font la file pour un brunch « défibrilisant », cholestérol-friendly.

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From Feist to Gerry Boulet…don`t ask

The last time I had the pleasure of seeing Feist was in 2001. She was playing a mid week show at the Rivoli in Toronto with a very small band. I remember her explaining at length during a pause in that show about how a German fan had told her that ¨feist¨ was a word which described the awkward feeling that one has when a stranger has overstayed their welcome in your home (I can`t vouch for the veracity of that fans etymological statement).
I hardly consider myself a prophet of a given band`s career arc, but I knew then that she was something special.
Flash forward to last night… she had all the charm and more well honed chops, with the power to project it all into everyones heart.
Somehow, Gerry Boulet entered the picture, late into the evening at a friends house. I could only marvel at the strange unifying power of those old tunes, disinterred from YouTube. Much group singing ensued.
I lamented that I could think of no English equivalent to those songs of love and solidarity. I believe those were my last thoughts for the night as I passed out with their dog Raymond Bourke licking my face…

Cheers,

Zeus⨪