#77 Taraf de Haidouks

Jean Baptiste and I were in the livingroom, both with our headphones on. At the very same moment, we looked up and looked at each other wide-eyed, with the same surprised and blissful smile. We both heard the same thing, a violin swoop, one amongst others, but stronger, even more acrobatic. At the same time, we both felt giddy and it lasted a split second, but what a split second...

Some of the members from Taraf de Haidouks were in the bedroom, playing, just like they were playing earlier in the street, in the stairs, in the hall, just like they will be playing while going downstairs, on the way to the truck, in the truck, all the time, all the time, only stopping when we asked them to or to light a cigarette. Only light it because once in their mouth, it did not prevent them from starting to play the violin again and resume with renewed vigor.

This is it: a story of cigarettes holding in their mouths and neverending music, of songs merging with each other, whirls. A music played just like we would scratch our ear, or button up our overcoat, played while doing something else, smile to the truck farmer, look at some gadget on a stand, while chatting, looking back, carrying the string-bass with one hand and keeping on playing with the other.

That was heady. One of the greatest Balkanic bands. Once we left, they kept on smoking and playing.