CONCERT REVIEW: VIENNE MON AMOUR AT LA FLÈCHE D’OR (PARIS)
[Instagramming in a pinch.] In German, there is a saying that roughly equates to (and all apologizes for messing it up) you don’t value the profit while it’s in your pocket. Really, what it meant at least at the Flèche d’or on Thursday was a band isn’t as cherished or considered by your own country until it blows up abroad. There are many notable cases; Phoenix and M83. What’s happening as of this January is Austria just upped its music game in a big way by officializing the Austrian Music Export with the goal of developing their music presence internationally. While the United States may have to wait for our wave of Bavarian beats, Paris got their fair share this week as Vienne Mon Amour. Vienna is the next city in the “Mon Amour” series set up by , highlighting independent music in European capitols by bringing select artists to Paris to perform.
Clara Luzia opened the evening, following Monsterheart’s DJ set, a female fronted band that edges towards the rockier side rather than folk or pop. Clara’s feet are firmly in place, you could say. Coupled with keys and clarinet, Clara displayed an excellent range, better than most female musicians these days, of genre over an ever so slightly nasally, nearly twangy voice that calls immediately to mind Pascale Picard. “Sink like a Stone,” with its pangs of poignant clarinet, is a gentle roller of a song that calls to mind those moments of movies when the protagonist comes to the depressed realization of their fate long after action would influence reaction. Yet, immediately following the song she went right into an uptempo, snare rocker akin to those when Sharon Van Etten lessens her self-introspection and flourishes towards the future. Clara also has one of the most unassuming, and surprisingly gifted female drummers, Ines, you’ll ever see-who completely shone on the heavier hitting ending “The Scale.”
Ginga followed up, complete with a violin/percussionist with a drumstick attached to the wrist. The band has hit the States with several dates in the past, bringing their brand of high flying pop rock across the Atlantic. Musically, tight as a British band with a punchy pop and slight likeness to The Killers, if The Killers were performing in a Red Bull factory. The band gave Paris the pop infusion, which when balanced and simple can levitate. The breakdowns were the highlights, stripping things down often to dance beats as the second guitarist swung away his Fender, catching the drumstick midair to slam away at a snare.
Steady, long in all the right connotations, B.Fleischmann started his late set with a journey that, dabbled over scuffs, a piano carried you on into inescapable beats. The artist edges on the experimental, blending and dotting electronic landscapes that edged towards Shigeto early on minus the truly natural, raindrop feel of the Ghostly artist. He’s got a bit of light-heartedness, especially on his third song of the night. It’s more the first time you discover Ratatat, adjust your ears to them, and just listen for pure listening sake. In the age of hard electro, seeing someone just engrossed in their MacBook and so excited over what they’re about to give us, and delivering, was so refreshing. Continuing, halfway through the set he picked up a guitar and incorporated the loops into a nearly Baleric beat, minus the truly tropical percussion in the sound.