#34 Tahiti Boy

I was simply told to meet at 126 rue Vieille du Temple at nine sharp. What would unfold from that moment on was a mystery, as it frequently is with La Blogothéque crew. You know there’ll be a band, you know there’ll be a camera, and you know there’ll be some form of alluring chaos. So I strolled by 126 rue Vieille du Temple in the heart of the Marais, one of the most chic, fashion frenzied neighborhoods in Paris, and saw nothing but a dimly lit and empty doorway. Shortly after arriving Vincent Moon and Guillaume, a friend and writer for La Blogothèque, emerged and we started walking. Where? I didn’t know. But suddenly we came upon Jean and Dorothée carrying a snare and an assortment of other drum devices. After brief introductions we slipped back over to 126 where we were seamlessly welcomed into a wonderful apartment where the magic would unravel.

Before the entire entourage of Tahiti Boy and The Palmtree Family arrived, we were privileged to hear the solo gem from The Rodeo entitled Little Soldier with which Dorothée bewitched us, drawing us in with her commanding twang. Her voice filled the space with this kind of attractive echo, marking a quiet vitality in the room that wasn’t there before. A special prelude to a special evening.

Soon, people started to arrive. A whole mixed bag of characters, including the rest of the band. How Mr. Boy met the Palmtree Family or for how long they’ve been playing together is a little enigmatic. You can verify for yourself on their Myspace page. What is not a mystery however, is the band’s talent. Their tight compositions flow flawlessly between empty-bar-melancholy into ravished rhythms that could make any dispirited emo kid move to the music. As soon as the instruments were taken out the band set up gracefully around the piano, which was adorned suitably with a bottle of Jack. The first song Time starts off as if it was going into a soft aria, but then immediately kicks up and struts, moving between slight discord and strong harmony. It was at this point when the neighbors below started to pound on the ceiling. We knew they were telling us to shut up but we took it as a congenial sign of participation. It’s always good to have an additional drummer (not that Jean needs any assistance, because it’s apparent how much ass he kicks behind the kit).

After this, we all gathered around the piano (including the demonized maracas and teddy bears) to sing the inspiringly beautiful You Make Me Blush. David (aka Mr. Boy) has such a striking and enchanting voice in this song that I was certainly blushing from adoration, and I’m sure you’ll feel the same. It’s also evident that the neighbors below were put into a tranquil calm during this one, especially after the raucous Time, because they didn’t chime in at all on percussion.

Nearing the end, as the band packed up, we all left the apartment at which we had just arrived an hour earlier. Tahiti Boy and the Palmtree Family spilled out into the street continuing to play. We closed the door to 126 rue Vieille du Temple behind us, which will never appear dim lit and empty again. It’s amazing how all it takes is a couple of musicians, a camera, and a little chaos to change the personality of a place, of an experience.