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The website of Les Ardentes says it provides the 'cream of DJs.' If the heat on the dance floor at 3 am is any indication, it ain't lying. Les Ardentes is an electronic music festival held in Liege, Belgium- near the Dutch border. Unlike Glastonbury or Roskilde, most of you probably haven't heard of Liege- just as most people in Liege haven't heard of Les Ardentes. This doesn't mean Les Ardentes isn't a little gem. It hones in quality live acts electronic and otherwise (Dave Clark, The Crookers, The Kills, The Cool Kids, Calvin Harris, Bloody Beetroots, Devotchka, Cyprus Hill, Dionysos, The Mars Volta). It's cute, quaint and filled with teenagers- a bit like a high school prom with some of the best acts in town....
If there's one thing Les Ardentes is not it is glamourous. While the organizers try to give it a bit of color (see above), it lacks the 'disneyland' atmosphere of other festivals. There aren't rockstar models girlfriends roaming around, amusement rides, VIP massage booths, or free candy bars given away. It's also rather small (40,000 +) so most attendees are local techno diehards who come ready to get soaked and mud-covered, hear sounds that make their heads jingle, smoke a lot of weed, and drink till the point of passing out with sweet reveries (even if it's on the sidewalk).
Why does everyone look high and zoned out? In Belgium festivals, weed is omnipresent; It's not legal....they just run by a "don't ask, don't tell, pretend not to smell" policy.
The teenage crowd was generally friendly and upbeat- even when soaked in mud and sitting amongst garbage. In the rain. Ahhh youth.
Cry baby.
The Kills = Yawn. Their drugged out set is seductive on the surface- but rather light in substance and true rock flair underneath-...(And I was a fan of their music....before I saw them live). Like watching a person trip - you can't help look on but it doesn't make you feel good about yourself or the state of the world...Though some find it cute that they are a DIY duo, live you notice how reliant they are on backing tracks; some songs the lead guitar bits are ON the backing track (I mean really...) Meanwhile, Ms Mosshart really hammers in the nonsense heroin chic spit-on-stage faux-punk routine so much so you wonder if they've tuned out her guitar just so she can strut ( at times she's strumming but you suspiciously can't hear it)...Meanwhile, talented Mr. Hince these days looks like he's been hit on the head with a phonebook and is really really pissed about it. Since Hince is the musical pillar of the act- (while Alison is the sweet, photogenic facade), it's a bit DIY-gone-aray these days. Makes me wonder what the Music Mags & Blogs were smoking or sucking when they pick those "next big thing" hype acts. (*This is from seeing them twice- once at Montreux, once in Belgium. In other words, either that's one long hard miserable trip they are on...)
Best mid-day Belgian snack? Waffles give way to Speculoos icecream. Speculoos is a traditional Belgian biscuit which was initially only eaten for Saint Nicolas/ (Christmas). Now tho, you can find speculoos all year round. In Belgium, it's the best flavor out there.
Dizzee Rascal revved the audience up on the outdoor stage with his complex E. London-twanged lyrics & grime beats. A natural performer, it's hard to believe he's such a wee baby.
Indoors The Mars Volta played a terrifyingly loud, furious 2:15 hr long set
Their brand of prog rock is not for the faint of heart. But the appeal? It's sexy and deviant- like animal sex. You can't really understand a word Cedric is singing but the whole act is full of eye-candy- jumping, screeching, throwing, riffing. Anger translates to passion which translates to energy which spews onto the floor.
That said, Cedric Bixler-Zavala should be put on a leash. Opiods or no opiods. It was about this shot when I thought I may get accidently lassoed or whipped by Cedric's mic chord. Twas my last shot of these guys
The Streets- i.e. Mike Skinner on Lft- a white rapper -had a mass audience appeal.
Calling out to his people.
The folks of Devotchka - who are lovely lovely chaps - volunteered to test out the modern design of Belgian urinals. (Devotchka Lead Singer Nick Ursata is on the right; stage manager Justin is on the left.) hehe gotta love it.
Speaking of santitation, a suspicious condom was found right behind backstage. Fingers pointing at The Mars Volta?
Speaking of Devotchka - one cool part of Devotchka is they not only have play a teremin, bouzouki, sousaphone, and accordion- they also have aerial dancers on their set. Above demonstrates the crazy flexibility of Alexandra Walker- flexing on the bus. Alexandra is also Nick's fiance. Lucky guy :)
The dance party really began when Calvin Harris came on stage. I'd keep an eye on this guy. He's got talent, presence, and amazing ability to wind and weave beats with the emotions of the crowd. Young and vibrant this one.
By this time, I needed a little pixie meditation backstage ..........hehe
Pulses rise as the arena filled up at nightfall.
No rain or mud would stop the kids from dancing tho. Here's The Qemists bringing it.
And how the dance party began....
Crookers mixing with Bloody Beetroots. Ain't life grand.
Crowd goes wild.
Bloody beetroots.
masked men making it look easy.
Circa 4 am I thought this was the coolest picture ever....
Circa 5 am. Spotlight on guy vomiting on the left side of bench. Priceless.
Circa 5:30 am. Before we knew it- dawn was rising. These girls evidently had survived the night on caffienated soda.
Circa 6 am. Paved paradise and put up a parking lot....but paradise shone through...
The Bottom line: If you are in the vicinity- Les Ardentes is definitely conquering with a brutish spirit. It's PG-13 but rages on till late without many rules. Where else can you dance to Prins Thomas meets Bloody Beetroots meets The Presets meets The Crookers - all in one night?
Every once and a while you crave a honey-suckle sweet escape. The type that detaches you from this world of technology and time efficiency –allowing you to delightfully dangle by a mere thread or two. As though the right pressure point in your back has been pinched, the rest of your body goes limp, your mind frees and suddenly, it’s just you and the ground below you, blue sky above, your brain synapses dormant save the occasional reminder to blink.
Homemade Swiss post card
To get to this place, some people require severe drugs- (opium comes to mind; speed; absinthe).
Others need pain killers.
Most of Belgian youth need 15.4 beers. (according to my observations- more on that later)
My brother needs a good burrito and he’s a happy camper for 3 days.
Others get such zen-like exhilaration from organizing their calendars alphabetically, placing a good bet, punching an arrogant asshole in the face, relishing the perfect crunch of caviar on toast or a glistening slice of pizza, or bathing in suds.
Lucky ones get it from good sex; a cardinal hit to the G-spot. (The unlucky ones don’t know what that is; the doomed ones never will.)
Wild Horses.....
And sometimes, unfortunately, you can only access this sort of Valhalla within your head. In NYC, it’s often difficult to block out the rumble, the atonal reality of the screeching outdoors, the frenetic eye-candy that invades your panorama. Some people are so constantly bombarded by bright signs and billboards they wouldn’t know how to relax if Big Brother hit them on the head and demanded them to do so. Others require losing 20 pounds of sweat during Bikram yoga in order to think lucidly.
Most of you moggers probably experience such euphoria from listening to a refined combination of chords....This experience was expertly described by Vijay Lyer, pianist and composer, (as I read in another fabulous find- the UK Indie music Mag "The Wire." Buy it. Read it. And Discuss amongst yourselves). He described when he first heard a particular 3 chords played by jazz aficionado Cecil Taylor: "To my 23 year old ears, this was an anti-chord. I could listen to this sound all day; I wanted to live inside it, learn from it; it had something I didn’t have." I trust part of the reason you're reading this (or any other Mog post) was that you've all been to that place with music and seek to share it.
For me, I can feel this euphoria from some of the stuff above- as well as from finding (read: winning) a good challenge, discovering a magnificent new word, traveling where noone knows my name, a good hug, and the mere glimpse of the ocean.
Sometimes you need an escape that's so divine it reminds you what the word relish means and how to use it. Such occured during a 3 hour hike up a mountain in Switzerland.
I can’t tell you exactly where I was (somewhere around Montreux).
I can’t tell you exactly how high I went (4,500 feet or something).
Michael jumping an electric fence...
I can’t describe accurately the smell up in the midst of the valley (something between wet earth, lemon-scented flowers, baby's skin, and clean sheets. But not really).
Me jumping with joy...check out the air on that jump....
I also am pretty sure this collage of pictures doesn't do 2.4 % justice of the event.
But know it was something spectacular and divergent. I think my pal Michael who went with me feels the same (then again, he's the type of guy who gets similar kicks from daredevil heli-skiing as drinking a bottle of chilled wine on a green plain.
I’ll also have you know that the Blue Oyster Cult got the cowbell all wrong. The swiss cows really know how to make music.
Always pack a good bottle for mid-hike
I’ll also mention it was just part of the parcel of a perfect day. 30 minutes after climbing back down- I walked into the Montreux Jazz hall and watched The Kills, Gnarls Barkley, and the Gossip show mellow Montreux what ‘indie’ rock means….
But most importantly, I'm not trying to rub your gut and prompt regret. I just am spewing out a long note to a small bid- reminding you if you haven't yet, make sure you give your soul a little sweet escape in the near future.
It needn't be switzerland. Or some obscene hike up Fuji. It doesn't require dreading your head or becoming vegan.
Sometimes it's as simple as just a day outside with a good book.
I am just chiding- pack your life fulll of those moments that provide the chance to refresh your eyes, pump blood a bit faster into your veins, and reassess what matters. It's part of your sybaritic right as a flawed human. It's part of your blessing as a world citizen. Your work; your lover; your family; your boss- will (or should) forgive you afterward, probably appreciate you more, and copy your escape plan going forward.
So go take a hike.
Happy weekend.
*Note: Psst....attached is also a song I've had on constant repeat for the past 4.8 days give or take 37 hours or so. I'd keep an eye on this one; Check him out at :www.myspace.com/loneydear
Comments
I completely believe in the power of a good escape be it an hour, day, week, month, year or even long; however, I do believe leading a lifetime of escape is anything but wholesome. But, whether it's hiking on the closest trail you can get to, locking yourself away in a room for a few hours of uninterrupted reading, venturing in a new country or becoming lost in a moment with your lover, we all need some form of escape to keep us real, to keep us human. Such escapes are what keep us breathing and remind us of how evocative life can really be when we allow ourselves to truly feel the world inside and out.
Thanks for the mini escape on this horribly dragging Friday! And for the new tunes ;-)
Cheers~Nella
your photos/postcards were a good breath of fresh air. thanks for the needed reminder of what a good time out can do.
A Traveler's Journal of Montreux By Day and By Night
Nestled on the edge of Lake Leman (evidently the locals do not call the lake "Lake Geneva"), Montreux Jazz Festival has held court since 1967 in an idyllic, mystical setting that only adds to the enchantment of the music emitted from its grounds. On any given day, you can watch one of the world's greatest jazz artists' voice quake in one corner, while a world-reknown DJ spins in the basement below, as Europeans mix with Americans over cocktails on the grass, and couples gaze at the lapping lake as the sun sets. To call it heavenly only half describes the experience.
The pristine view.
Chirping little ones...
To begin, there exists a small village in the hills, about 15 minutes away from the center of the city- where I am staying in a hotel "familiale" that has been passed down four generations thus far. Each day, the son or father drives me "gratuit" to the festival- stopping by a different route of vineyards and clifftops along the way and explaining the facets of their region with gusto. Compared to my rapport with the rat-infested dens of NY city, I am envious of their infinite pride for their homebase. I've also promised not to release the name of the town, since such would result in the instant degredation of familial charm - like a lamb of virtual slaughter (as my friend recommended the place in secrecy).....
Regardless, each of the small villages surrounding Montreux has mostly one lane-winding roads and the cliffs host wood-and-tile Chalets- the type where the doors are always open and wood fires burn all day long. It is in these environs, when a local boy raises his thumb by the side of the road- the next car with a family inside stops, and says "Vas-y" which translates as "Come On" in the verb tense you use in french only to people you know. I speak of a real instance, in which I was astounded by the humble and trusting nature of that action. The family didn't ask where the boy was going, they just smiled and allowed him to hop inside the car like family. In most US cities, that would be a death sentence. Here, it is quotidien. Further romanced, I continued up the road (as an uphill jog turned into an uphill stroll), the woods smelled of something sweet like honeysuckle, as the lake shone and glistened emerald-blue below. True, a simple life, yet magnificent due to its natural environs, a small room of ones own on this cliff would do- so as to enjoy a last puff of life perhaps after life of ephemeral thrills.
One of Santo's Girls
By the time I first set foot in Montreux, I was in the best of spirits- and ready to be whisked off my feet by music. The first act I saw was delightfully not jazz- rather the ingenue Brooklynite Santogold- who's thrilled me since CMJ 2007...and continues to astound. On her current tour, she's brings with her two dancers, always wearing matching gray-white uniforms and white raybans - looking like Virgin Airline flight attendants circa 2015. Santo was technicolor as usual- and while the crowd was definitely more subdued than on our native land, she revved them up with hits like "Lights Out" and "Creator."
Santo dayglo
Spotlights on her.
Next up I met up with some locals to check out UK's electro raging "Roundtable Knights" in the nightclub in the dance hall.. Though Montreux may seem idyllic, the locals informed me it's not always as safe as it appears...as demonstrated by the ashtray harnessed to the table via wire above. Like bars on windows, such is a telltale sign not to leave your purse unattended or saunter off with strangers.......
Regardless, the music wore on as my hesitance and alcoholic tolerance wore off. They killed it. Or atleast they had us dancing till sunrise.
Any good festival, like any good whiskey, attracts its share of crazed, senile diehards. In Montreux, this German fella had been sleeping on the rocks by the lake for 3 days straight - whilst hoisting a VIP all access pass negotiated most probably through illegal means. At the time of this picture, he'd been surviving off bottles of whiskey and music for 3 days straight but was dangerously low on alcohol supplies when he began slurring in my direction. His face was as expressive as his words- let's put it that way.
Day two I decided to dedicate to Jazz. well jazz-blues. ok just blues...Which is of course close to impossible because being an indiepixie, I couldn't miss a solid dose of indie rock as well. So I headed first to Lightspeed Champion....the indie rock prince with a way with the guitar and a predilection for wearing furry contraptions on his head...
Lightspeed ahead....
And THEN I devoted the night to blues.Starting with Ryan Shaw.
Then Robert Cray. man can he wail and emote without words on that guitar of his. He cries with his fingers.
The prize of the night was most definitely, without question, Buddy Guy, the legend, the icon, the man who at 72 years old is not only still performing with the ardor and zeal of a teenager but the professionalism and style of deity. Again, the thing I think that is phenomenal about blues-soul is it has a way of conversing with the audience- in sporadic forays and riffs, beats, and frenetic strides of pulsing sound.....Not to mention , Buddy is a pro at making people laugh - whether they speak English or not. There he was chatting away, walking and playing through the crowd, stopping and flirting with a young chick till she blushed, and winking away with contentment. Here's a man with passion and talent for whom performing, the art of bringing music to life onstage- under bright lights- to make the music and the people surrounding it- dance and release, has never grown old and has never settled with age or distinction (as it has for even some of the younger rock-myths that have been brought into the music stratosphere by blog-nets over the past few years). Despite the decades of abuse and over-use, he and his guitar are still raw and nibble and teething for attention and teasing and shrugging and smiling and jesting and alluring.....as though they were newly-born.
Best yet? He brought up a surprise guest. Billy Gibbons. Yeah that's right of ZZ Top. The legend. Um i think I lost feeling in my feet at this point.
They together riffed and frollicked and joked and I am sorry but you had to be there. When two legend start to riff- so that their guitar serves as the catch line to each of their jokes (they even began a 'your-mommas-so' banter)....it's a moment you never forget.
Here's the man himself backstage post show. He had just stopped by bc he heard Buddy was performing
The point is, there are festivals that exist solely for the enjoyment of the music. And then there are festivals that are experiences all unto their own. This one is one of them. Go for the love of life as well as the love of sound, for the love of rock as for the love of jazz, for the love of sun and sea, and for growing old, and smelling sweet things, and relishing a cold beer on a warm bench, and for pretty much everything in between.
And on that note, I am off for a hike in the mountains :)
cheerio, much love,
IP
Comments
Thanks for the review of the festival! I'm gonna see Buddy Guy this Sunday, now I'm even more stoked than I already was. :) He's fantastic. Robert Cray as well.
The thing about Buddy Guy is that he still only hands off one guitar solo to his second guitarist, the rest he still does himself. That's amazing, especially at his age.
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delish
man I would have loved to see the streets. I saw them once when they came to Minneapolis, the club was about a quarter filled and I feel that was my only chance to ever see mr. skinner............he did not look impressed and I am pretty sure he wont be back again
WOW WOW WOW!!!
Amazing post and incredible photos. I've never heard of the place or festival but I am sensing I will be there at some point.
Thanks Pix for bringing the festial to me...