Tuesday 6 April 2004

Tonbandtest: what comes next


I’m like a sick dog today. It’s been on for three days already. Somebody advised me to drink pure lemon juice. Just the thought of it made me jump to the ceiling.

I’m seeing Mario, at last, today. We’re going to discuss the how’s and when’s for my album. I don’t know whether we’ll have time to manage anything before I come back to Paris, but I can’t wait to get it started.

Being selected for the Tonbandtest brought me lots of joy. I delivered the requested twenty cds last Friday and had a chance to talk to the organizers. It appears that being selected might be comforting for my ego, but that’s just the first step of a long staircase. The competition is running until September. The real winner will be the one who’s got the most reviews (praise) written about his music. Journalists will start writing reviews on my demo soon. I’m very curious to see what will come out of it. Already, somebody was mentioning David Sylvian. (It’s not the first time…) I guess comparisons will never stop, since people always need labels and marks in order to know where they are.
We will see in the coming weeks…

Sunday 4 April 2004

Francis

I’ve discovered a website called ‘Copains d’avant’, which allows people to track their long forgotten schoolmates. I’m not the type to indulge myself in such nostalgic remembrance especially since those teenage  (teen angst) days weren’t particularly my happiest. Still, those times came back to life for a split second when I bumped into names I haven’t uttered for more than fifteen years.
I sent a message to Francis. I had been dreaming of him occasionally. The last dream dated from a few weeks ago... I made the same dream a few years ago. It was like a call. I was worried about him. I looked up the telephone book, but his name was nowhere to be found. 
Francis and I were high school friends. He was from another class but we would share sport classes every week. He was athletic, sexy, cheerful and very friendly. However being the shy and tentative boy I was, it me long weeks before I mustered the courage to really talk to him. I was quite smitten by him and perhaps something could have happened between us then. But my lack of self confidence prevented me to even think of mentioning anything, so I was already quite content with the camaraderie.
We started spending more time out of school together. In spite of the obvious electricity between us, no one dared stepping closer to the line. Our talks were often very ambiguous.
Those memories are meant to stay that way. I lost sight of Francis when I entered the university. I visited the high school a couple of times. Then he moved into a new city.
I once talked to his mother.
"Francis says you are a wonderful pianist" she said in a very sunny tone. "I hope you will play for us sometime..." 
I saw a recent picture of him. His hair was cut extremely short perhaps to hide the receding hairline, but he still had this twinkle in his eyes, and  the same roguish air! I sent a few words, but received no reply. Memories might still be vivid in my head even more than a decade later, but just for me...