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For its 20 years, Solidays had draped in its finery, the places were sold out for several weeks, the poster was a clever cocktail of popular stars and essential undesirables, with some surprises for pick up the whole thing. Everything would have seemed impeccable if only the atmosphere had been a bit more …
Three young Belgian rappers and one horde of fiery teenagers knowing each text on the fingertips set the tone of this twentieth edition of Solidays. Primero, Loxley and Swing begin offensively with an early interpretation of "Apollo" soon followed by "Met la Gomme" and two unpublished works from the future project "Sapiens" to be published next October. The communicative happiness of The Golden Common is pleasant, giving the concert a good-natured appearance, the public also makes us smile. With its average age of seventeen years and its outfits studied in the slightest detail to achieve this effect neglected but clean, just what is singular to distinguish from the norm without going too far, the crowd tries to pog up, and what was meant to be pissed off is actually a joyful jumping disorder, enough to exasperate a purist of art.
If Indochina met Alice and Me and smelled of innocent spleen , then would be born a potential replica of Shark Sorrow . The dream pop of the French is charming, beautiful and summery though slightly repetitive and after a few pieces we do not bear any more real interest in the titles in its own right, but let's see this concert, the last of the tour, as one and the same song, a « Grand Voyage "(last piece of the setlist)
Only a British band could have extricated us from the (too) wise and clean atmosphere of this beginning of the festival. Thing done with Shame ! Finally … with the band, but without his audience. Indeed few spectators have ventured to the stage Domino to cheer the four Britons who do not shun their pleasure to play in Paris. Hardly on stage, Charlie Steen takes off his t-shirt and throws himself into the sparse crowd. The first three ranks pogotent unceremoniously, the beers fly, the guitarists have a smile, this is probably not their most ardent French concert, but the public mostly composed of curious welcomes them with joy. Londoners even gratify us with an unprecedented song, untitled for the moment.
"Raw words", "punches", "an unexpected slap", here are about the general impressions (and prefabricated) which emerge from the mass agglutinated in front of Eddy de Pretto . Accompanied by a drummer, the man seems initially tiny on stage, then quickly his presence invades the space and his nonchalance tames a puzzled audience. In the manner of Juliette Armanet or Tim Dup, Eddy de Pretto is an artist out of nowhere with beautiful melodies and poetic texts, put forward by a music industry seeking to (re) find land abandoned. And it works. The public is intergenerational, sometimes not very sensitive to variety. But with his flow and his impeccably choreographed performance, the author and performer of the now famous "Kid" can shake and lead "the general public" to more indie cavities without extracting too much from his comfort zone. popular opinion.
While the majority of the festival-goers are suddenly animated with an energy pushing them to run towards the Paris stage to hope to see Nekfeu, we are going quietly to the concert of Nasser . Three dark silhouettes stand out against a red background, the Marseille formation interprets new pieces from "The Outcome" and older, better known. The show is hypnotic, the projections marry wonderfully with the catchy melodies, they grip you the guts and push you to move almost unconsciously. The musicians are inhabited by their music and give the impression of creating the set of any live play. We stand out from there, convinced of having lived a trip, more than a concert, unique and incomparable.
Today alone on stage and equipped of a zappette to control his drum machine from a distance, Jain has false airs of superhero. Delighted to applaud again the sweet pop of the author of "Makeba", the crowd has compacted itself in front of the stage so that the only space available to breathe and move without disturbing anyone is behind the control room. Certainly we do not see anything, but the sound is enough for us. The concert is pleasant, not very surprising – especially after Nasser – but the new titles, less exposed, have the gift of satisfying the festival-goers, beer in hand.
No good evening, but the lively and effective "Listen to me" resonates. It is one o'clock, the atmosphere is moist, glittery and the clubbers cling to glimpse even a member of Brawl . Those who played in 2016 early in the afternoon in front of a good-natured public, are still attracting today an audience ever more in love with the melodies supported and words full of assonances, where every word is in its place. Spectators literally lose their breath, because singing, jumping, wearing slamers and dancing to each piece while taking care of his glass is a feat. The five Parisians exchanged roles, Mus interprets with delicacy "Mirror" while "Diamond" and "Reinforced Concrete" unleash the passions. Tonight, we'll be dead at the club and we'll be back home, but we will not have danced alone.
Saturday was announced the most peaceful day of the festival, we thought to start smoothly alongside Her we had neglected the size of the audience that the group attracts. The soul intro of "We Choose" opens the set soon followed by "Neighborhood" and "Icarus". Behind the smile of the musicians, we feel that everything is tuned to the smallest detail, nothing is left to chance, this search for perfection is felt even in the impeccably ironed costumes. Her succeeds in offering a lively interpretation of her titles without ever opening a gap to improvisation. The concert is on the skin, he navigates in a determined way between excitement and finally congratulated. As soon as we move away from the scene, the feelings disperse calmly, with pleasure.
Funded with the participation of the public, Mademoiselle K was able to offer us a superb fifth album, burns incandescence intact ". With her raw rock and outspokenness, the young woman instinctively attracts attention. Here marry elocution of titi and poem of Hugo, absolute mastery of the guitar and will have beast of scene, pieces in French and in English. Of course the flagship titles "It annoys me" and "RU Swiming" close the ranks, but the last nuggets have nothing to envy as the pen and the interpretation are rough, sincere.
We continue our evening before Django Django . The turn a bit electro engaged by the group is reminiscent of the Doors and Temples. The English are not very communicative, it would be a futility, their music lives alone and circulates between the listeners. Even the interpretation of "Surface to Air", without Self Esteem, is great. The British have definitely won us over.
The Shaka Ponk concert would have been almost enjoyable if this terrible revival of theatrical and pompous "Smell Like Teen Spirit" had not been intoned . We prefer to leave the festival some time after Chinese Man, David Guetta this year decided to tackle the "Seven Nation Army", as much to tell you that a stadium of football fans would at least have the advantage of being warmer and would not run untimely "Are you hot tonight? ". We did not come to watch a pale copy of the ambient driver at the local campsite.
Like a queen, Faty steps forward (and gilded) onto the stage. Very complementary with the other musicians of Tshegue, the leader seems quickly taken by a contagious trance. Sometimes his eyes tame the crowd, sometimes he gets lost in the loops of percussion. His grave, decided voice enriches considerably this percussive afropunk, at once warlike, triumphant and yet generous.
After feasting on greed Polo & Pan and their exquisite sample of "Sirba" (Vladimir Cosma), we engage with a hesitant step towards Therapy Taxi and its endless audience of fans. In the space of a few months, the trio met an unexpected success, so that it finds itself booked on stages now too small. The kindly biting words are religiously sung by the horde of young spectators agglutinated in front of Adelaide and Raph. Each piece is punctuated by the high pitched cries of the front rows, which intensify when a woman kisses the singer, and finally cover the sound system does not allow us to seize even a few bits of "Hit Sale" and " Slope. "
From the first notes of" Julia ", Jungle announces the color: the concert will be dreamlike and vaporous. If the concert is peaceful, it is not soporific, on the contrary the delicate harmonies of the group are captivating, the musicians do not need to move in all the directions to put their titles forward. The new album is not yet released, but the few novelties blend perfectly in the perfectionist atmosphere, but uninhibited set, we note in particular the impeccable sequence of "Happy Man" and "Platoon". An Awakened Dream
A scattered public, not to say empty, and two rockers with the most distinguished and rock'n'roll look he is. This could be a short summary of the The Kills concert. We are surprised at first sight by the few spectators, but at the entrance of Alison Mosshart and Jamie Hince, all our doubts evaporate, no matter the size of the crowd in front of the American duo, they are great. While Alison Mosshart goes around with her wolf-like, mischievous look, Jamie Hince seems unreachable under her sunglasses and white moccasins. The irresistible "Doing It to Death" and "Black Baloon" are causing a stir in the front row, but it is the resumption of Saul Williams, "List of Demands (Reparations)", which holds most of our attention. The new title does not lose anything of its intensity in live, its bare, raw appearance, asserts itself as the perfect link between "Heart of a Dog" and "Pots and Pans."
We end our day near the concert tube of Two Door Cinema Club . Sunday remains the best day of this twentieth edition of Solidays, the certainly interesting and diverse poster did not really live up to our expectations, but maybe we are too demanding. We will retain the intelligent idea of short sensitization interventions before each concert, whether on the precariousness of sex workers or the conditions of access to care for migrants. The place of the political struggle against AIDS is always central and best approached so that each festival-goer feels concerned.
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