Botanical Nights 2002

During 13 evenings, music in all its forms: world, rock, rap, song...

(B2) Thirteen days of festivals. Thirteen days to survey these passageways of the Botanique, colored in yellow, orange, blue or pink; where a few fish are still wriggling in the basins surmounted by more or less rare plants. To go from one room to another, to cross a little all the styles. Here, jazz rubs shoulders with hip hop, pop borders on hardcore, intimate songs try their hand at rock...

After the summer festivals, and their crowds, the “Botanical Nights” in Brussels are a way of listening to sound in good conditions, almost as a family and... in many ways. Everyone has their own technique: comfortably seated in the red velvet armchairs of the "Cirque Royal", dancing in the Rotonde to Rocé's hip hop, stamping furiously in the Orangerie to the rhythms of Pleymo or lying on the carpet in the passageways. of the “Museum”, the more intimate room, to listen to perry blake, even outside on the concrete steps, tasting Afghan Samoussas, to taste one of the "world" orchestras present that day. Because the novelty of the 2002 Nights is this small outdoor stage, called "Corolla", car sponsor obliges. Mounted in the open air, to welcome the musical riches of the various cultural communities residing in Belgium, it has shown its usefulness. Playing the interludes between the two concerts, a tricky exercise to say the least, this scene delighted more than one, especially since access was free and the weather was fine. Whether it be " A contraband ", a group of traditional Galician music (Spain) led under the leadership of Grégorio Melgosa with great bagpipes and from the gaita lessons of "Muziekpublique", the Slavo-Gypsy rhythms of the Bulgarian family Chair or the “guitarless” punk-rock band of Tractor, three girls and two boys from squats in Antwerp (Belgium), the quality and sense of celebration was always there. The opportunity also for different audiences to meet: young Moroccans or Turks from neighboring districts, students coming down from their campus in groups or gentlemen suits and ties, a tad more official.

The Ritas pack the creek

Undoubtedly, the concert of Rita Mitsouko was a great success of these Nights. At the Cirque Royal, on Sept. 21, a crowded room is eagerly awaiting the Rita Mitsouko for one of the first concerts celebrating their new album, “la femme trombone”. When Catherine Ringer appears, in a tight suit, streaked with orange and black bands, symbolic of the convict or the mountebank, and of these new songs, all of aggressiveness and passion, it is too late to hesitate. The concert planned in the seated version does not take long to gain the standing position. The spectators in the last rows being reduced to climbing on the seats to stamp their feet at their ease. Those on the balconies use a few subterfuges, such as going through the basements, to reach the floor. However, the Ritas do not systematically cover all their hits. Fans of Marcia Ballia will be at their expense. But no one will complain. Chaining old titles like Don't Forget The Nite” and new ones like “Trop Bonne” or “vieux rodéo”, the singer deploys an unparalleled energy. The atmospheres alternate relentlessly: sometimes very Italian pop then trying Flamenco, then walking on the stage like a modern-day Charlie Chaplin, or a bit fierce, like a Masai dancer in "The Warriors", Catherine Ringer goes out on the comfortable with all these situations. And if the keyboard requires some repairs, she improvises a “à la claire fontaine” which compensates for electrical failures. A divine Andy leaves the spectators happy and fulfilled.

(Wednesday, Sept. 18) Among the discoveries of this year's "Nights", how not to mention Karin Clercq, tall blonde, actress by profession, who one fine day found in the guitarist of Miossec, Guillaume Jouan, a music capable of marrying her desires for texts. Her ambition: “To talk about the flaws and pains and desires of today's women, in contradiction to the glossy women in magazines”. After an album released in March (PiAS), it was the young woman's first live performance. Tense at the start, but with a ready-made and enthusiastic audience, it struggled to find its bearings, badly served by a badly tuned sound system and difficult to understand lyrics behind the riffs of the guitars, very rock. However, some of these compositions deserve attention. The “Song for Anna” “against all Anna victims of trafficking in women” has a force and gravity that exceeds nice refrains, like “Woman X” or “Don’t”. And what about the emotion released by “Douce”. An ode to old age, a theme often forgotten by authors, dedicated to his grandmother, Marguerite, “who has decided to go elsewhere today”. A story that could just as well be dedicated to all those elderly people who hang out “in homes for the elderly in search of their memory and their inner sounds” she confides to us.

The next day, same place, but with less success occurs Melvil Poupaud. Definitely the actors like to show their vocal cord. We knew the actor better (in “Summer's Tale” or “Normal people don't have anything exceptional...) than the singer. And that's good ! When Poupaud tries his hand at songs, with pop, folk, bossa and blues ballads, the result is not guaranteed, even if his brother Yarol, ex-guitar of FFF, officiated in the production. The whole, however gifted, brings together more of a group of nice boy scouts gathered in the local café. An imperceptible boredom wins over the public who, it is true, had been, just before, particularly spoiled by the simply brilliant and ironic performance of Vincent Delerm.

(Tuesday, Sept. 24) Change of style. Rock bastringue fans are out. Marcel and his orchestra and his Belgian alter ego, originally from Charleroi, Priba 2000, occur at the Orangerie, with the perfectly appropriate name. Their motto? Yes, they have one: "Delirious on Beaufs knowing that we are all a bit of someone's Beauf". Here there is no complex, rock is above all intended to move the buttocks, jump in the air, hover on the hands and... dress all in colors. The corridors of the Botanique had moreover covered, for the occasion, a carnival tone, with flamboyantly colored wigs, Phrygian caps, and other outfits from student folklore.In the first part, Priba 2000 also practices this humor to the 36th degree.In red shirt, colored tail coat silver and crossed white trousers, they reaffirm that “Cloclo is alive”, celebrate “the Mongolito” and resumé “Que je t'aime” more music-hall than rock'n roll.

(Thursday Sept. 26) Hip hop and hardcore are taking their marks. The " Da Familia », a group from Liège (Belgium), have the delicate task of warming up an audience at the Orangerie who have come mainly to go wild on the rock metal of the French Pleymo. Bass, guitar, drums and machines, the mainly adolescent public is not long in swaying and vibrating on the rhythms sometimes ragga, hip hop or hardcore. Following in the footsteps of Starflam, another Belgian hip hop group, the Da Familia do not disdain more committed texts either. “To my sisters” for example is dedicated to all “my veiled, bullied, oppressed sisters around the world”. "What we want in the lyrics" explains Pablo, the singer of the group "is to tell everyone that he has a role to play in life, that he must find a reason to live and stick to it. . Don't be passive”.

Hats off to Rocé

(Saturday, Sept. 28) A watchword that French rappers would not deny crossbreed who had a handicap that was difficult to overcome. Having to play in the first part of Zap Mama, the cancellation of this concert left them orphans. Never mind, they improvise a concert in another room. At a time when the public generally went to other places, the bet was a challenge. But the spectators who pushed the door of the Rotonde that day were not disappointed. Accompanied by DJ Carle and Nazem, the texts are intelligible and well constructed. Which is not that common. He strikes out his words, wielding irony or anger, denouncing this show-business environment a little in "No Feeling": "My rhyme is my booty - And my show-off as charcoal". Or regrets the loss of culture in “On s'habitue”: “Export your modern. Even if it doesn't help them. One day they have to use it. Whether they like it or not. Loss of culture, it's a shame. It does damage." A catchy poem that deserved a better reception... It will be for next year!

Nicolas Gros-Verheyde (in Brussels)

(article published on Rfi Music)