Saturday, 1 October 2005
Jonesin'
I'm beginning to understand what the TV-addicted people, who I normally make fun of, go through. Today is the first day in several weeks that I haven't been able to download a new episode of SciFi channel's Battlestar Galactica, which airs on Friday evenings in the U.S. And I won't be able to again until the series comes back from its mid-season break.
I vividly remember watching the original series as a kid, usually while my dad cooked our Sunday steak dinner on the grill. Years later (and years ago), I watched its single season of episodes in a non-stop marathon, on the fledgling SciFi channel.
I realized during the later viewing just how corny the original series could be. But its basic premise - the last vestiges of mankind, searching for a fabled "Earth" - resonated with me all the same. It still does today. I loved ancient mythology as a kid, and a sci-fi twist - with us humble Earthlings as the distant (spatially and temporally), fabled MacGuffin - is a pretty cool concept.
I was none too sure of this reworked series, having only watched the two-episode miniseries that ended up serving as the series pilot. But I finally got around to watching the first season this summer, and got hooked. I've since regularly watched the second season as it's come out on American TV. Thanks to the Internet, I've been able to keep up just as well as anyone with a VCR in the U.S. I'm definitely buying the DVD set.
So, be supportive of me in your thoughts as I pass through this difficult time. In the meantime, I'll be skimming the Battlestar Wiki for more rumors and trying to avoid reading too many spoilers.
Monday, 3 October 2005
Disconnect
It's pretty amazing how reliant I've come on having an high-speed, always-on Internet connection. All day yesterday, my connection was down.
I've actually stayed later at the office this evening because I'm not sure if I'll have a connection at home. No other communication channel is this essential to me: not my television (which I never watch), not my phone (well, with the exception of my mobile phone when I go out). I can even do without mail delivery for several days.
It seems like data communications have reached the level of a basic utility in my life. Happily - especially for you, dear readers - my shower still runs and my toilet flushes.
(updated Thursday, 6 October 2005)
I guess it's not exciting at all - and borderline pedantic - but I did get back my connection on Tuesday evening. Hence my blog entry for that night. Turns out that my line had been changed over in expectation for my new ADSL 2+ box.
Now why they didn't wait to change over the line until after I'd received the box, I don't know. At least the outage lasted only two days, or else some real withdrawal symptoms may have manifested themselves.
Tuesday, 4 October 2005
Gathering Moss
In this morning's mail I received my latest quittance de loyer, for the month of October. It looked just like all the others before it, except this one was special. This one is number sixty-one.
I've now lived in this apartment for five years. I arrived in Paris in July 2000, but I didn't find a place to live until September. I've been living here ever since.
This marks the longest that I've lived in one place in my life, save for the twelve-plus years with my parents in Rochester. It's a weird feeling, especially since I never planned on staying in this place for so long - certainly not longer than my favorite apartment that I've ever had, which I lived in for three years.
I guess it's fitting that my next place will be with Heather. That, on the other hand, is a situation that I look forward to making permanent.
Thursday, 6 October 2005
Inching Closer to the Aisle
A couple of interesting tidbits in Heather's and my progress towards our wedding.
First, last night: Heather and I went to the first of several weekly pre-marriage sessions at her church. It's an opportunity to learn from the experiences of two experienced couples and the advice of the priest (who, don't forget, has surely counseled plenty of married couples).
It was a nice experience, and it'll be interesting to see what the next weeks' sessions will bring. I'm far from being Catholic, but it's important to Heather to go - and it's important to me that we go together. I think we'll get some useful insights out of this; hopefully they'll be helpful down the line as a couple.
Second, today: I went to the doctor for what turned out to be a very fast checkup. He was happy with my lab results from my last visit (doctors have their own private offices here, so anything more involved than blood pressure is done in a lab and sent back to them). That was two years ago, but the results were borderline "great" (especially my cholesterol levels), so he didn't see a need this time. I'm not sure if that's the best response, but I would've requested tests if I'd really felt the need myself.
Anyway, what prompted me to go was that I needed a doctor for my prenuptial medical exam - and the resulting certificate - in order to start the ball rolling at the mayor's office. Everything official in France requires paperwork, so it was great to get my mine signed so easily.
Heather had a bit more to do, since recent bloodwork is considered more important for women (all the fun things that might interfere with a pregnancy). Since my doctor felt my previous tests were enough, I only need to find out my blood type. Which I knew back in junior high biology by an in-class self-test, but have lost in the mists of time. So, it's off to the lab tomorrow and then to the mairie next week.
Brotherly Block-Rockin' Beats
It's two-fer Thursday! I'm looking back a bit here, so bear with me.
The Chemical Brothers in concert at the Zénith de Paris
Besides giving me an iPod for Christmas, Heather gave me tickets to a concert for my birthday. Not just any concert, but one I'd been gabbing about for some time: The Chemical Brothers. I was good boy.
Mind you, the concert was in February, so this entry is hardly news - but the concert was cool. Being the old people we were, Heather and I sat. But the show didn't have any reserved seating (aside from VIP seats that were pretty crappy, actually), and we ended up with a great view of the stage. Unless we'd been at the front of the standing crowd - crushed by sweaty, bouncing bodies, oh fun! - we couldn't have done better.
What can I say? The music was great, and so was the light show. Heather hadn't heard a lot of their music, but recognized a lot of songs, so the tickets turned out to be a good investment for her too. We had a blast.
during the last song, Brother Screen reminded us to get outside more often
But since there isn't much to say, I'll just leave you with the pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Pretty, animated ones. Listen to the sound of my voice. You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy. Feeling like, you could send me all your money. Aside from a nebulous feeling of generosity towards me, you'll remember nothing after I snap my fingers...
*Snap!*
More after the jump...
the band onstage at the end of the show
post-show portrait of geek and companion (now, guess which is which)
And now... My attempt at simulating the frenzied, pulsing, head-warping experience that was the concert. In low-fi snapshot sequences, with no sound. Oh, you lucky, lucky reader, you!
soldiers and robots - suppose that was an attempt at an analogy? nahhh...
despite the limits of animated GIFs, this still looks pretty cool - just imagine if you'd been there, eh?
although clowns are the very essence of scary, they too love them some good fat beats
this woman was scared, though I don't think it was because of the crowd. but who knows?
this searchlight ended up looking like a train coming at you. but that's good, because that's the rush the music gave. I'm ever so clever.
smiling faces and random lights - and no pithy comments from me
Sunday, 16 October 2005
The Accent Is on "Cool"
Having lived long enough in a non-English-speaking country, I've had my fair share of comments on my accent. It's really interesting to hear what people have to say, though sometimes a little bruising to my ego.
Often, I've heard French people say that I have overtones of a Quebecois accent - which can be good or bad, since some find it charming in a rustic way and others find that accent to be grating or too backwards (as in country boy). Just this Friday, a real estate agent thought I was Canadian because of the way I said "bonjour."
On my good days, I've been able to convince people that I was a native French speaker and that I was slipping in an occasional slip-up on purpose. On my bad days, I sound every bit the drawling American tourist, fumbling for my vocabulary and speaking with broken grammar. If I'm lucky, I might be able to pass myself off as a non-American tourist. Not that the French dislike American tourists any more or less than others, but I think Parisians are tired of the waves of Americans that visit at certain times of the year (justifiably so, since I count myself among them).
But maybe the coolest experience I had with my accent was in the U.S. While rushing to make a tight flight connection at the Detroit airport, I asked a guy in his early twenties if he had the time. He gave it to me, showing his watch at the same time. Then he added, "I like your accent." This from a very American-looking "hip urban style" kid. I, the consummate geek, was cool to someone from the cool crowd.
Neato.
Monday, 17 October 2005
Tea Time
Ever since lugging back a giant container of pre-sweetened iced tea mix, I've rediscovered the joys of iced tea. Now the weather turns colder, and I'm fixing myself hot tea using an electric kettle I brought to the office.
Hot tea is good. Drink lots of hot tea.
This message brought to you by fluctuating temperatures and an oncoming head cold. Additional funding provided by the icky, phlegmy feeling in the back of my throat.
Tuesday, 18 October 2005
I'm Breaking About Half of Them Right Now
Jakob Nielsen has posted his latest Alertbox, dedicated to blogs.
In general (i.e. not just this article) Nielson regularly takes himself way too seriously, but I have to admit that he makes one or two good points (numbers five, nine, and ten). Otherwise, he seems to be placing himself as some serious journalism consultant for a medium that has everything to do with informal writing (number seven). Too many of the points lose their weight outside of a corporate environment.
Just what I needed: Creative tips from a guy who has little room for creative uses of a new medium (number four) - or even and old one (number three). Whatever, Jakob. Oh, and about number seven: were that I had a staff who wrote things ready for my imprimatur. Jeesh.
Wednesday, 19 October 2005
Ommm
I've long been a fan of Friskis & Svettis, a Swedish aerobics class, since my friend Jenny introduced me to it. Say what you will, but it's fun and gets me off my ass from in front of my computer. My other experiences with gyms in Paris weren't great, with classes and the machines being full of preening men and women who were mostly there to check out and be checked out.
After four years, I've started volunteering; it's a not-for-profit organization, and so all its operations are run by volunteers. The group rents from a private gym, so they need people to run the program itself. I take care of membership fees and checking people's passes on Tuesday nights.
All this to say, it feels comfortably familiar. Years ago, I worked for a chain of software and game stores. It's pretty much the same now: I give people information, sell them something if they want, and chat. It's easy, though sometimes hectic.
Which is why I was very pleasantly surprised when the gym employee who runs the front desk complimented me the other week. "You know," she said. "You are really quite Zen." Wow, that's nice. I certainly don't feel Zen most of the time - she's obviously never seen me at my real job. But it's still nice to hear, since it goes to show the good state of mind that Friskis puts me in.
On the other hand, she also thinks that I look much younger than my real, 35-almost-36 age. So maybe I should take her comments with a grain of salt...
More Phone Fun
Note to self: Don't buy from The Phone House again (previously: Phone Fun and Phone Fun, Part II). Two weeks waiting for my phone that I ordered online, one week of which was because they misplaced my faxed copy of my ID card and I had to fax it again. Which they required in order to ship my order, despite having happily taken my money the same day that I ordered the phone.
So, let's get that straight: You already took someone's money (mine), but it's ostensibly for their protection (mine) that you require my ID card after the fact? Um, good logic.
Oh, and another note to self: Don't order things on the Internet in France until they join the rest of us in the 21st century. Otherwise, you'll end up spending more time on the phone than if you'd just ordered by phone originally.
Only in France would it be harder to use the Internet than to phone in my order. Oh, that's right: it costs 15 (euro) cents a minute to make phone calls. Gotta milk that for what you can.
At least I finally got my phone last Thursday. It's really, really nice. More on that in some other entry, some other time.
They're Not All Like That
As much as I rail on French service (hint: each word is a separate link), I do have good experiences. Yes, I'm far from alone: most French people I know also have bad experiences. But yes, it's also entirely possible to have good ones!
We (as in, Matchbox, my company) have to declare VAT (TVA in French) every nineteenth of the month. We declare sales tax that we've collected (there's a flat tax on all goods and services), and get credit for VAT that that we've paid. But that's hardly fun, or good service, you say. And you'd be right. It's just an inevitability - as sure as death and, um, taxes.
But today's filing reminded my of a nice experience that I had early last December. We'd filed our November VAT declaration, as for any other month. Only as it turns out, I'd forgotten to enclose a check for what we owed that month. How I found out was pretty great: I got a call in the late evening (after 7:00 PM) - hardly the time you'd expect a paper-pushing fonctionnaire to be working.
"Monsieur," my caller said, and approximately words to this effect: "You forgot to enclose a check. I wanted to call you so that you had a chance to pay on time. It'd be a shame if you had to pay penalties."
Huh? A shame? Wow, a government worker who works late and who's looking out for my best interests. This is cool.
Oddly enough, I've had some great experiences with the government and money: While briefly unemployed, the agency workers treated me with respect and that I deserved the money that I would be allocated (which was true, since I'd paid far more in social taxes than I'd ever receive). When I needed a document from the treasury for another branch of the government, the workers were highly apologetic ("a thousand apologies, monsieur!") when the information I needed took two days instead of the expected one.
When Heather and I visited the mayor's office, a worker - totally unrelated to the department who takes care of marriages - took time to explain (and great pride in doing it) the history of the salle de mariage. Not only that, when encouraging us to explore the mairie, he managed to do it in a way that reminded us that we, the taxpayers, were "the owners." And, really, aren't we?
Life's not all sweetness and light, and the government isn't always helpful. But my examples above aren't even all of my positive experiences, just as I don't write about all my bad ones. It's great to know that there are good employees - good people, really.
Even in the government. Even in France.
One Giant Leap
This morning, I received a return receipt for an envelope full of papers that I sent last Friday. This little, pink slip of paper is a sort of recognition that I finally took the big step.
Last Friday, 14 October 2005, I applied for French nationality.
Mailing in my application was the culmination of a process that I started more than a year ago, and was delayed by technicalities. Those of you (all three of you) who read those entries when I made them, were perhaps thinking that I was talking about marriage. Nope, though that also ended up becoming recent news. Or perhaps you thought I might move, maybe back to the U.S. Or maybe you thought "whatever" and didn't give it a second thought.
I still remember a former U.S. coworker saying that I'd probably last three months or so in France, and then return to Minnesota. I didn't much care for his, er, candor - but for all I knew, he might be right. When I left to live in Paris, it was to see whether or not I really did want to live "real life" over here. I had no set time to stay, other than long enough to be sure that I wouldn't have regrets for never trying.
But wouldn't you know it: I've done well here. It isn't always easy, but I'm a part of France and it's a part of me on a daily basis. I didn't do it to prove anything to anyone - it just sort of happened.
So I made the decision to try for French naturalization. It's something I want for myself - and more importantly, it's something I want for my children. Heather had the same goal to become a naturalized citizen from before we even met, and she also wants to be able to offer dual citizenship to her children. Earlier Friday, before I mailed my own request, Heather went to the government office to get the necessary paperwork.
Heather's just reached the required residency time that qualifies her to make the request.) Like her, I qualified when I received my fifth carte de séjour (which was last year). I quickly ran out of that proverbial gate, getting the lion's share of my paperwork (birth certificates, my parents' marriage license, copies of police records, etc.) last October.
Then I got caught up in work and lost momentum, until I got my rear in gear once again this spring. That's when I found out that I needed additional certification (apostilles) of my documents. By the time I had those and had the final documents translated by someone approved by the Paris court circuit, my carte de séjour had expired and I was waiting to find out about my situation. Well, as we know, that turned out well.
Armed with all but a couple of documents, I spent the first couple of weeks of October completing and assembling the mass of paperwork that composed my application. Friday, I sent it in. Monday, they received it. And today, I received that confirmation.
Now I wait to see if my dossier is accepted as complete. If that happens, I have up to an 18-month wait for the French officials to make their decision (including interviewing me in person). An upside of my carte de résident is that it should help my case and perhaps even accelerate the process. This was even spontaneously confirmed by the woman who handed me my carte de résident, so it's good to have that reassurance.
Now comes the wait.
Thursday, 20 October 2005
Neighborhood Watch
So that building down the street from my office - you know, the one I wrote about before - has been undergoing construction for a few months. Abandoned for I don't know how long, then a squat, it's now shaping up to be a very nice-looking building.
The restaurant on the ground floor in the corner was completely gutted (as were the floors above, I would imagine). The new interior is quite nice, lots of wood and stone. It's still the same pizza restaurant as before, but now it looks much nicer. The workers are just getting started on the commercial space next to the restaurant, so that'll be interesting to follow.
The building exterior was cleaned up, French-style: the stone is ground and scrubbed down, pocks and pits are filled in with a similarly colored cement. Best of all, they've removed a very ugly concrete addition (probably a result of some quickie work in the 60's or 70's) on the side of the restaurant. It's now roughly the same texture and color as the rest of the building's stone, the concrete having been stripped away and the underlying stone repaired (within the limits of how much you can repair stone).
The building proper will become logements sociaux, or low-income housing. This is good news, as there were a rash of fires this summer in buildings filled beyond capacity. There was an outcry at the time that the people running Paris were ignoring the needs of the large number of poor (typically immigrants). I'm sure this is a drop in the bucket; but from the looks of this building, Paris certainly isn't ignoring the poor who need housing.
So everyone wins: Low-income families get housing in a pretty nice location; a cheap-looking pizzeria is revamped to the extreme; and a largely vacant building is once again useful, with a very nice-looking exterior. And life in the city moves on...
There's No French Word for "Geek" but There Sure Is One for "Snob"
As I've mentioned before, I enjoy certain annual rituals - among them, my pilgrimage to Steve Jobs's Apple Expo keynote. This year marked only the second time since I moved to Paris that I didn't see the keynote. Like the first time, it was because it had been canceled.
For me, Jobs's keynote is the high point of the Expo. With it canceled, I didn't even bother to mingle with the masses of Mac fanatics fans. What, pass up being crushed by the great unwashed (sometimes literally)? I must be crazy!
Sarcasm aside, I did miss going to the Apple Expo this year. Apple has in recent years been distancing itself from trade shows to announce new products, instead preferring to create its own "events."
One such event - the second or third in the past few weeks, I lose count - was yesterday, when new Power Book and Power Mac models were announced. The event before that was the new video iPod. Eh? Don't worry, my little iPod, I still love you. No, I don't covet other gadgets. I don't even think about other gadgets...
Um, ah. So, you're all still here? Er, this is rather embarrassing.
Ahem.
Anyway, my point - belabored as it is - is that 2004 may well have been the last year Apple introduced any products further than a stone's throw from its Infinite Loop headquarters. That would be a shame, since it was pretty cool to know that Jobs thought highly enough of Paris to come here personally. Even New York didn't make that cut.
"Paris: We're cooler than New York." I like the ring of that.
So, Steve, won't you please come back next year? And bring an extra iPod (whatever the newest model may be). No special reason - I just happen to, uh, have a friend who'd be interested in one.
Tuesday, 25 October 2005
A Weekend in Nantes
This weekend, my bride-to-be surprised me with a trip. (Actually, my being too clever by half - often too much for my own good - I had sort of figured out the destination a while back. But I pushed it to the back of my mind, and so it remained a surprise.)
Heather took me to Nantes, the French town where I was a student so long ago. We'd been talking for a long time about my showing her the place, especially since it essentially marks the start of my French Experience. So it was a thrill to play tour guide for her - and for myself, since Nantes has changed in some subtle and not-so-subtle ways since my student days.
You can see photos of our trip in my new gallery. At the time I write this, though, things are still in flux. I still have to add titles and descriptions (and more). But sooner is better than never, right?
We got there Saturday afternoon, which meant we missed out on "normal" lunch hour - and with it, my being able to eat at my once-favorite crêperie, La Crêperie Jaune. So instead we had our galettes at another of the many crêperies in the old town area. We did have time during our wanderings to have a great cup of hot chocolate at La Maison des Ancêtres (a new addition since my student days).
Otherwise, Heather got to see the key sights of my old haunt: the château, the cathédrale, my host family's place (in between the latter two landmarks), several familiar streets, and more. I didn't think to take snapshots with my new phone camera until Sunday (when we quickly revisited some of the places), which sort of sucks. But we'll probably go back one day, and the whole point of my getting this phone was to see if I could adjust to the shoot-everything-you-like method of digital photography.
We had dinner at La Cigale. The last time I'd been here was when my parents and brother visited me, along with my French girlfriend. Wow, I hadn't been back once since. The place always held a certain mystique for me - maybe because I was a student, unaccustomed to nice places (as Heather pointed out); or maybe because of the circumstances of introducing my serious girlfriend to my family (as I think).
Anyway, La Cigale was fun. Having five years of restaurant experiences - in Paris, no less - as reference, I definitely felt more at ease. Besides, as I pointed out to Heather, every server there save one was younger than me. Our waiter was warm and personable, the food was decent (though not top-notch) and the décor was a colorful reminder of typical brasseries of a century ago.
Like I said, no photos of the place because I didn't think of it (and forgot on Sunday), but the linked page has a couple. And I also missed copying down the name of the dessert I ordered. It would've been worth noting, since I couldn't pronounce it right no matter how hard I tried. It made our waiter giggle.
We got a late start on Sunday too, this time due to brunch. This year marks the 100th anniversary of Jules Verne's death. The Nantes native authored Around the World in Eighty Days, 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and more than a few other well-known titles. So, we trekked up to the Jules Verne museum which had recently reopened three days before. Close an essential part of the celebration for repairs in such a landmark year? Don't ask me, try a French person for that kind of logic.
One of the highlights of our trip came after the museum (which was itself pretty dry): While looking toward Nantes from the hill, an older man passed us and asked if we liked what we saw. We got into chatting with him and he gave us some great details of the view stretching out before us, as well as fun historical tidbits. Actually, the chat was a lot more far-ranging than that, but it's hard to capture.
Funny enough, we ran into him again at the foot of the hill. Heather and I had paused at the tramway station to decide whether to wait for the next one or walk back, and along came the same French gentleman. Well, we all hiked back to town center (truth be told, it wasn't more than a fifteen minute walk) while he gave us more history and tales.
Once at our destination, he managed to smooth-talk our way into the private courtyard of the largest of the old mansions in town. Nantes was a part of the Golden Triangle of slave trade, and here was a mansion built with some of its spoils. This was a place that I'd passed many times before, and never had given a second thought.
I regret never getting the man's name, even more that I didn't take his picture. We'll always remember him and this unexpected tour of Nantes, the town I thought I knew so well.
Sunday was wrapped up by going to see the converted interior of the LU biscuit factory (it's now a trendy art-crowd bar and exhibition space) and stopping by the university campus. Well, at least we saw the building where I had my two on-campus classes (the rest were in a building in town center, under repair when we stopped by on Saturday). Throw in a couple of butter-and-sugar crêpes, and we were set.
[Updated Tuesday, 1 November 2005: Check out Malaysian Broadcasting Corporation's "Re:Looking", a fictional web site created as a part of an exhibit at the converted LU biscuit factory. The "art piece" consisted of a full living room, with "Lust & Empire" showing on the TV and a computer showing this site. The immersive experience was an interesting use of alternate history to examine our own.]
That's the rundown. I don't know why I went into so much detail, but it was a weekend to remember. Not because it was exciting, but because it was fun to share this part of my past with Heather.
The main thing that stick in my mind is how, well, odd the experience was for me. A city is a living thing, and Nantes is no exception. Our visit brought home with full force a realization: It's been fifteen years since I first set foot in that town, ready to start my study year abroad.
Fifteen years, from student to resident. From beginning my adult life to beginning a new chapter with my fiancée. It'll be interesting to see what the next fifteen years bring, and how I'll look back on Paris (and Nantes!) in that time.
Thursday, 27 October 2005
I Heart My Hearth
It seems like a lot of landmarks and major events this year have taken place on the 14th of a month. I proposed to Heather on 14 August. That marked the anniversary of when we met (and almost exactly six months after our Valentine's Day weekend in Florence). There was 14 October, when I applied for French citizenship.
So you can imagine that it came as sort of a surprise that yesterday should be such a pivotal day.
Heather and I have been looking for an apartment for a while now. We took the last two Fridays off of work in order to visit some places. I took photos - except for the second place, which I regret not doing even though it wasn't at all to our taste.
Shortly into our search (after only seeing two places) - and totally by chance - Heather went to a salon for expatriate resources. There, she met met partners from an apartment hunting agency. Heather got a good vibe from them, and I liked what I read. So we decided to hire them (very smart idea, Heather!).
Well, yesterday morning we got a call from our agent, Tanya. She had a place that she wanted us to see that very moment, if possible. Heather and I met up nearby, and visited the place.
Wow, easily the best place we've seen so far. It was the first place that Tanya found for us, and it may be the last.
That's right: Heather and I are going to buy this apartment on rue Nollet.
Yesterday we entered into preliminaries, signing a offer which, if accepted, leads to our signing a formal offer. Next week, once she returns from her vacation, we will meet with the owner (along with the French-required notaires, the real estate agent, and Tanya) to sign a promesse de vente.
Seven days after that, we'll formally be in the real process. The waiting period is to ensure you don't make any snap judgments - and believe me, at the prices in the Paris market, you wouldn't want to be locked into a bad decision. During the time that follows, we have to lock in a bank loan and loan insurance - all that good stuff.
But those are boring details for the moment. Nothing tangible now, no worries yet. The feeling is great: We may have found our first home together.
Friday, 28 October 2005
Röyksopp's Night Out
Hit a bit (oh, just a tiny bit) by the shell shock of starting the process to buying an apartment, I didn't write yesterday about our latest concert experience.
Wednesday night, the same day as finding the apartment, Heather and I went to see Röyksopp. They played the Élysée Montmartre, the same place we saw Zero 7 last year.
The show was good, nothing remarkable. I really like Röyksopp's music - at least, the first album (I don't have the second one) - but there's very little an electronica group can do to impress. Well, there's always a big light show, but not everyone is loaded with money. Certainly not these two Norwegian geeks (and I mean that in the kindest way. Also the "geek" part).
I was surprised to find that the female vocals were done live; often, a woman's voice is sampled. This was cool to find out for "Sparks," a song with a somewhat retro-sound to the vocals. I'd always assumed it was a sample from an old record. On the other hand, the singer (Anneli Drecker) was overly camp while she vamped - to the point of being corny. Congrats to her for doing a tour while five months pregnant, that's some stamina.
Also cool to discover was that a lot of the percussion was live. The drum kit was virtual (except for a lone cymbal), but the half of the duo who played the drum pads really went at it with full vigor. I tried hard to capture it in a photo, but wasn't successful.
All in all, a solid show. Röyksopp played almost their full catalog (at least as far as I could tell), including some tracks not on their albums (I knew they were old, a friend said that they're not included on the second album). Better yet, they played all of my favorites - including a couple of great reworked songs (hard to call live versions "remixes"). Not bad for an earnestly geeky duo and their two backups (vocals and guitar).
Monday, 31 October 2005
And So It Begins
I returned to my apartment on Friday evening to find an envelope waiting for me, addressed to Heather and myself. Oh, joy! Our first piece of shared junk mail: a brochure from a marriage photographer. Obviously, this is because we registered our wedding with my mayor's office.
Looks like France is just as cutting-edge as the U.S. as far as the use of public records to generate sales leads. Except, the address label was hand-written.