Preamble: My dear (s) friend (s), I'm not not very active right now, which explains the delay longer and longer between items. This should return to normal after the holidays. This period of turkey stuffed (and I do not mean your sister in law) does not put me really happy. I have never really liked the large family parties where the hypocrisy is full nose sniffs, and where, despite the efforts of those who hold a significant percentage of individuals can refrain from criticizing anything and everything. Let us add to this a media circus more jets, and apporche more commercial things that seems to force us to stuff like geese and to rejoice in a binding manner.
With these good words, I wish you a merry Christmas (especially for those who get along well with their step-sister), and then, well ... Keep On Rockin 'the devil!
"For it is also what we are dreaming while listening to a good rock record: a better world. We want people who lead us are less poor." Doobie Brothers: "The Captain And Me» 1973
It's fun, but yesterday I heard on the radio, a medium rare in my car, "Long Train Running". I remember this song as a huge shock of my musical life. I think he was one of those I agreed that there was a vast and magical world behind that song, one of Rock the 70s.
I took several years to discover the perpetrators of this song, but I kept the long tape on which it stood.
The group name found (Doobie Brothers), I discovered in my old Rock'N'Fok purchased from flea markets they were respected in 1975. They were a sort of synthesis of the Deep South, this fusion of blues, funk, soul and rock. This synthesis magic, the rock-critic looked for a long time. 
I was often disappointed by the artists who were "the perfect synthesis of the Deep South." Often a boring blues to die, then where funk-soul clumsy, they were in no way reflects the image I had in my head: this magical group, rhythmically perfect, pulsating life of their music , sweating like dogs on the boards of U.S. theaters, and the guitars sounding like devils. 
Out for me, "Long Train Running" was a sort of apotheosis of this little mind of this musical Everest as desired. I bought the album "The Captain And Me" much later. He remained an obsession for me, so much that I kept in its cellophane few days, preferring to revel in Heavy-Metal familiar ground: Black Sabbath, Motorhead, or UFO. Finally, Sunday afternoon sullen and grim, I tore open the package, and I put the disk. I could not hold me to put four or five times "Long Train Running" in a row. Then I went to the discovery of the disc. And I was delighted. Rarely does a disc got me much fun, tastes as rich and varied.
It is actually an intense journey, a journey of the senses and wildest dreams. It is perfect music for long trips in a Ford Mustang Fastback 1968 that there never will be, one where you feel sad and banal it becomes dark and lonely hero, through life, leaving those they intersect with fond memories. Especially among the female population who can not resist such charisma and inner wounds enclosed in this heart of stone. And the sun is broken only by swaying figures in high heels, tight shorts, mini-skirts and low cut deep undulating groove lasciviously on the Doobie Brothers. But our hero is not fooled. 
Is this the power of music? Still, this album is an invitation to travel in the urban landscape, it is this crossing the United States which we dream. That of Starsky and Hutch, All Risks Agency, The Judge and the pilot, all these series make large spaces, cars and the law fairer. For it is also what we are dreaming while listening to a good rock record: a better world. It wants people who lead us are less poor.
I have often thought about this while listening " The Captain And Me ". And it's still for me a kind of escape from the crap that surrounds me. Clio's my job become a Pontiac Firebird. I serve my teeth, I look away and I become beautiful and dark. The key to happiness course called "Long Train Running," but also "China Grove", "Without You" and the magnificent "Clear As The Driven Snow. This song is an absolute miracle, crossed a wall beyond the human void. You want to know? This song is part of that I want us to play at my funeral. The lyrics, rhythm impromptu Irish is a total success.
And not talking about "South City Midnight Lady" that reconciled me mixed up with the Californian rock, country and Americana. is warm, it's both rock devil, and subtle, fine, alternating in an almost progressive musical genres with a natural blending.
Ultimately, this disc is superb. It is a condensed burning that brought American music better. I mean by funk, blues, country, soul and of course rock'n'roll. Since then, American music, good, eh, it's not very glorious.
The following will be elsewhere too, not quite glorious. Beginning in 1976 with the arrival Michael McDonald, the group is mired in a Californian rock mawkish, syrupy ballads made songs and FM. No wonder they split in 1983. And on a rather bitter note; Then they could have been an antidote to mammoth commercial hard like Led Zeppelin or the Eagles or the FM Fleetwood Mac, offering a refreshing music, they fell into the trap. Today, the Doobie still exist, surviving like many American bands of the 70s with one or two original members who use and abuse of a surname mall.
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Giscardian France was a nightmare for our parents, but they did not know is that one of Sarkozy would be much worse. Because there would be no challenge worthy of the name, apart from polite discourse, and people who think, "take the measure of events, and discuss again and again while the violence is both physical and verbal spread like blood in the gutters. 
In 1978, the rock'n'roll French wakes. After the failures of some crazy avant-garde (Variations, Ange, Magma. ...), Some groups are energetic kids wake up in the heart of Navarre. Little Bob Story, Dogs, Starshooter Bijou Telephone and of course, finally allowing the French to have small idols close to them, speak like them, who have the same problems. 
Yet the discourse of these groups remain close to the Rolling Stones debut: the frustrations of teenagers, the worries of heart, trips with friends ... of course, for the press at the time, they finally had the class and the level of English bands, the Jam, the Damned, the Stranglers, all these combos punk rock the old Albion blows of pumps in the ass. The old France 
But he will not come with Punk. Although energy is there. The group detonator, it will be Trust. A group assembled by a former theater technician, Bernard "Bernie" Bonvoisin, musician and former Club Med, Norbert "Nono" Krief. 
Both discs had the effect of a bomb, because where touches Telephone problems, Trust enters into it. Everybody takes it on the chin, with efficiency and precision of the verb exploding. "Police-Militia", "Prefab," "Antisocial," "Mr. Comedy", "Bosser Eight Hours," "The Mitard" ... so many classics whose meaning has sadly not waned. We're still slaves to work, we are still underpaid and as always the rich get richer on our backs, the police tape still hard, and policies are taking us for idiots as always. 
Music, she also is incredibly modern, even in advance. For where the French groups followed suit, Trust anticipates. With its mix of punk and heavy metal, he announces 1979 the future stars of British NWOBHM, Iron Maiden head. 
the success of the title "Antisocial" Trust embarks on the road for a monster tour in France. Some dates were canceled due to local crooked politicians. But the whole was a success. He had to wait for Bernie yet plunged into the archives in 1992 to get these bands. 
It is regrettable that this live comes a little late, but it is clear that the disc is an astonishing compendium of rock'n'roll rebellion and rage. 
music takes on a dizzying power. There are of course Vivi and Nono, but also to the Moho Schemlek second guitar, plus a British drummer, Kevin Morris (the drummer is the big problem of Trust). The quintet now 
hit, slap, bite. But what makes the difference also is the voice of Bernie. Where most metal bands have vocalists and virtuoso-pitched song, Bernie barks, mouth, belches, spits in his deep voice and powerful lyrics, violent and relevant. 
Then of course, "Bosser Eight Hours," "Prefab," "Antisocial," "Police-Militia", take on particular significance. Nono Moho and adds power angry was painting from the melodies and riffs assassins chorus acids. 
After this disc, the band published the magnificent "sink or swim." His heavy-metal is thinner, but still excellent. The tour that follows is but the first misstep. The group then has the choice between a giant French tour, or a U.S. tour opening for AC / DC. The musicians will then be torn on the decision to take, and will end in France. 
This error will stop the creative dynamics and net Unit Trust, which will then spread out. "Trust IV" is a semi-failure, with its awkward religious texts and melodies a bit soft. Prisoners from the shackles 
rock Franco-French, like all others, the group locked into a melodic rock flirting with the variety. The years 1984-1985 will be fatal to many: Jewelry, Starshooter Telephone and Trust course, throw in the towel in spandex and rock FM. The spirit is long gone. 
And never will again. Because the quarrels between musicians, age, and then swept the wild hopes, and energy of these fellows. Because 
