Moldings on the ceiling. Central Zinc. Mirrors and formica. "Still in this little harbor / The time is up / But where will you go? And my anger is diluted in an ocean of tranquility, and liquid / You I see in the mirror, tell me, who are you? (Yeah, tell him) That's it, here it is, here I am stiff … "
At Jeannette's. Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis, Paris. Ex-bar prolo transformed ten years ago, like the district, into hype hut post-Henry Miller. This is where the five fingers of Fire! Chatterton, to whom we owe this song, The Comedy (2018), have made an appointment. That's where, in the street next door, at the studio Le Phonographe, they recorded it, as their last album, The Fowler (Universal).
Arthur and Clément engulf grogs ("A grog is clever, it looks like a reasonable man's drink, but it's not at all …", says in smiling singer), Antoine and Seb are sipping their pints, while Raphael makes a nest of mayonnaise eggs disappear in his bushy beard.
On the crowded banquettes of this noisy cafe, these funny birds let their clothes dull of poets or shadowy rockers of which they usually adorn themselves. to relax their bodies bruised by a river tour: 140 dates with a stop at the Zenith of Paris, January 24 – "We all went to yoga," says the drummer, showing acrobatic photos of their preconcerted warm-ups in tight backstage.
A band of super cracks
They are 30 years old, more or less. And a pedigree to make a director of human resources pale. A normalist, Sébastien Wolf, and a centralist, Clément Doumic, hold guitars and keyboards. Arthur Teboul, the charismatic singer, made Sup de Co, when Raphael de Pressigny, who joined them later on drums, graduated from HEC ("I spent three years in the school rehearsal studio").
In this class of super-cracks, Antoine Wilson would almost be a dunce, he who was always destined to classical music, and who was a student at the Rueil-Malmaison Conservatory (Hauts-de-Seine) in class contrabass, before being turned away from the right path.
They do not care. "The only real quality I found at my business school is to quickly understand that it would be unbearable for me. Preparatory classes, it's hard but it's rich intellectually. These are the humanities, the rigor of thought, the reasoning. You have your nose on the handlebars. You are like a racehorse with an immense field. And then, at the business school, you quickly realize that in fact we take you to a carousel. "Executive management" : the term itself is ugly, it could give ideas to Houellebecq ", sighs Arthur Teboul, falling back to the bottom of the bench.