Le Trabendo, Paris, October 2007

Another RT-list post that will need some proofreading later.



Rob and I visited Montmartre this morning. Upon escaping from the funicular--which we'd taken to save our feet for a long stand at Le Trabendo tonight--we found ourselves in the middle of a street fair. There was iffy but catchy music, food, wine, and streams of people. On the steps of Sacre-Coeur, a young man with a guitar and amp was performing a Sting song: "I'm an alien...." He stopped to declare that he was not an Englishman in New York, but a Haitian in Paris.

Inside the cathedral, attempts were being made to maintain quiet, by keeping the large doors closed and lots of shhhhh!;s. We were also pretty much herded through, which means I didn't get as much time as I wanted to look at what seemed to be a display about the church's impending receipt of a relic from St. Therese. Which St. Therese I don't know, but there was a photo of a nun with this wonderful look of slight mischief, a quirk of the lips that said, "I know something you don't know."

The leap from this nun/saint to Richard's show at Le Trabendo tonight is rather a large one for me to make, though I can bridge the distance in my soul without thought. I felt as if I were privy to some delicious spiritual secret tonight.

Here we were, close enough to Our Man in this tiny club that we quite nearly could have lipsticked a St. George flag on his forearm, in honor of the World Cup semifinal...this fellow who is recognized by a mainstream publication as the 19th greatest guitarist of all time. I was absurdly, selfishly grateful to be able to experience such a dynamic concert in such an intimate setting.

There was space in the club; I don't think the show sold out. I heard a lot of English accents in the crowd. What nationality is the promoter, Karel Beer? I believe he was the one doing the announcing, in French that I could, strangely, understand perfectly. (The only French speakers I don't understand, apparently, are the French.)

Our set list was basically the same one Richard Condon posted for Brussels--save the acoustic portion after Al Bowlly (one of the best Al Bowllys I've ever heard, by the way). Someone requested "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?" and Richard, after asking, "Do you really want to hear that?" played it. As soon as he was done, someone else requested "Devonside," and he acquiesced. Hence no Vincent tonight.

I don't know what the highlights were. I don't think there were any lowlights! I am relieved that "Too Late to Come Fishing" is no longer in the list; that used to seem like a spot where the energy level plummeted. The set list tonight felt strong and fresh.

Very early in the evening, Bobby the guitar man brought a note out to RT--a rugby score. (RT had already commented that every non-rugby fan in Paris was in the room--the same joke my husband had made when we were in line.) He read it to the crowd; I think England was ahead.

RT received periodic updates during the show. He later told us that France was ahead. Then he got a note that I could see--England 11, France 9. He wouldn't read it to the crowd, but he declared it made him very happy. By the end of the show, the upthrust fist and other triumphant gestures from Danny made it clear that he was getting info somewhere.

I feel so lucky to have been there. I only wish I had more detailed information to pass along; right now it's a bit of a blur. I do hope that someone else was there to post.

We can still hear the rugby revelers outside our window on the Boulevard St. Germain. Imagine if France had won!

Pam