Two Good Reasons to Get Into Jazz

When I tell you, dear reader, that I spent Saturday night in a dark cellar, drinking cocktails and watching four - and sometimes five - men perform on a small stage, you could be forgiven for thinking "Ha, as usual, plus ça change etc." - but NO! Because this time (my italics) it was all in the name of culture. Well, nearly all - these two hotties certainly helped to rekindle my interest in jazz :-) Paris, of course, has a longtime relationship with the genre, with American jazz musicians moving to the City of Light as early as the 1920s. Who can think of St. Germain without the Age of Cool, Chet Baker, Miles Davis? And the scene here is still very much alive and kicking, so I'm not really sure why I don't go and see more. Anyway, this weekend, Pierre's friend Benjamin Le Jean was playing with his group L'Esprit de la Maison at the Caveau des Oubliettes in St. Michel. Not only was the music excellent (click on the link to check out his MySpace) but all the other details were just as they should be - a packed, smoke-filled basement, killer double-rum cocktails, pretty girls, cool guys and three sets that went on until past 2 a.m. (FYI the two sax players in the pic are Samuel Maingaud of L'Esprit de la Maison and guest Benjamin Petit). There was just one tiny - and very French - hitch in the proceedings when Benjamin Petit, after being announced as a special guest, was prevented from actually reaching the stage fora good five minutes by a long line of teens going through the obligatory French kissing goodbye ritual. Hilarious. Just to keep the cultural mix nice 'n' eclectic, dinner earlier was okonomiyaki at Aki (11 bis rue Sainte-Anne, 75002 - highly recommended) All this, plus Raph's birthday picnic in the Parc Montsouris, where I found myself playing "Time's Up!" and trying (unsuccessfully) to mime Marie Trintignant, while drinking champagne out of small bottles. More birthdays coming this week too...stand by...

Evening at the Petit Palais

As "my regulars" know, alcohol and art is one of my favourite cocktails. So when I received an invitation to a champagne-fuelled private view of the permanent collection at the Petit Palais, well, they didn't have to ask me twice. Plus, to be honest, it's a museum I've never visited before. I've popped in to its bigger brother the Grand Palais more times than I care to remember but never actually made it across the road. My mistake. It's FAB. And the excellent thing about this kind of evening is that everywhere you turn, they've put a bar, so I was able to watch the sun go down in the garden while sipping a glass of bubbly. It was great to see some of my favourite Courbet - did you know that he was actually one of the first artists to work with a knife rather than a brush? Just like on "Paint Along with Nancy" - and the wonderful, wonderful "Grimaces et misères" by Pelez (yes, yes, I like my art miserable, I know). And, of course, the Impressionists, for those who like that sort of thing - in fact, I like it well enough, but have just seen too much too many times. An exquisite evening, from which I emerged feeling elegant, sophisticated, and a little bit wobbly. (For the full-size versions of the photos, click here).

Morning After

We were only meeting up for "a quiet drink and a chat," really. OK, maybe the choice of bar was instrumental in our downfall. The next happy coincidence was bumping into David and Carlos - who'd already got a bit of a thirst going. And then, suddenly (my italics), it was 2 a.m., the bar was closing and - through a vodka haze - it just seemed like a FANTASTIC idea and the most natural thing in the world to keep going. And going. On a school night. Which may be why this morning I wasn't the least bit surprised to be approached by this large pink rabbit on my way to work. Happens all the time. Honest. ;)

Babette's Feast

Well, John's really, but just as impressive. We've all had a look at MY culinary efforts on this blog and though some have been more successful than others (don't mention those microwave muffins, please), compared to the spread John laid on last night, I'm just a tin-opener. We kicked off with oysters, served with a chilli, coriander and basil pesto, followed by toasts topped with black pudding, tomato, and gorgonzola, served with a pureed pear sauce. Admit it, you're drooling already, aren'tcha? Next up, pan-fried foie gras with mango and ginger (my fave), followed by a small cup of spicy tomato soup, crème fraîche and basil pesto. THEN came a beetroot, goats cheese and green bean salad, dressed with lime zest and capers. This is where things started to get a little problematic as it was already midnight, we weren't even at the main course, and despite a palate cleanser of fruit sorbet, some people simply just couldn't eat any more. Casualties of war. Even *I* failed to do justice to the succulent main dish of veal marengo and mashed potato and truffles, as I was rapidly turning into Mr. Creosote. Another button mushroom, frankly, and it would have got very messy indeed. We never actually made it to the puddings (which looked fantastic by the way), although I did have to test one of the chocolate truffles handrolled by yours truly (see pic). Despite ending up looking like I was staging some kind of dirty protest, I'm pleased to report I didn't actually inflict too much damage on them. All of this for between 10 and 13 people, depending on arrivals and departures during the evening. I think he should go in for MasterChef. Truly marvellous and, in my book, an outstanding way to start 2007. Mind you, I came down to earth with a bump today as I had to spend all day in the office - yes, yes, **showbiz** oblige - while you were probably doing what I should have been i.e. sleeping off that hangover; Still, it was very quiet, Starbucks was open and I did manage to watch "One Fine Day" on tv. It may be a new year, but my heart still belongs to him. ::Sigh::

Another Quiet Night In

Notorious JLB

So this weekend, I hopped on the Eurostar to Brighton to watch my sis, Notorious JLB, spinning some choons at Stick It On. What a FANTASTIC night!! After kicking off with some pink fizz at home and a few drinks at the kitchissime Regency Tavern, it was off to Komedia to throw some top moves. Ok, ok, there was a slight moment of panic when the organizer told Sis: "Yeah, just turn up with your records and..." - we hadn't actually considered that you might have to bring the choons along with you. But the girls brought the house down, the crowd went mad for them. Don't take my word for it: watch them in action here and see the posse getting down here. They were even interviewed afterwards for Radio Reverb. Boy, did we drink though. Novelty of the night: I had my first ever shot of tuaca, which wasn't at all bad - I may be laying in some stores at Christmas. We rounded off the night with a full English breakfast and tea at Buddies, and even managed to fit in that British Saturday night staple "argument with some random lairy bloke" before stumbling home at 5 a.m. All this and deelish Sunday lunch at the wonderful Food For Friends too. All in all, an excellent weekend.

Who Ate All The Pies?

Forgive me, dear reader, I cannot tell a lie - 'twas I. Rather unexpectedly, it turned out to be a bit of a gourmet weekend round at Rhino75 Towers. Delicious, but it won't help me get into my Hedi Slimane Santa Suit, that's for sure. It all started with those rather rustic-looking pies on the left. I was having a bit of a medieval afternoon, getting all hot and bothered trying to roll out sticky pastry on the (well protected) stone floor of my bijou kitchen when MFM (my favourite Muse) rang, and we decided to make dinner together. Minutes later, I was down at the greengrocers, when my eye fell on a punnet of orange and yellow girolles mushrooms, singing out to me like a sort of fungal Circe. When MFM came round (with drummer/ Heidegger expert and Brook in tow), after a quick glass of champers, she took charge of the situation and whipped up a truly mouthwatering girolles risotto, while I threw some rocket in a bowl and the American boys played barmen and generally added a U.S. vibe. There was even a power cut in the middle, which we all agreed somehow seemed to help the whole thing along. And afterwards we watched a little porn on cable and compared handwriting. Marvellous. Girolles were on the menu again when Mr. and Mrs. LOG had a whole gang of us round for Sunday lunch - Mr. LOG's special chicken and girolles fricassee with new potatoes, asparagus, a yummy saint-nectaire cheese, and Rhino's pies, which went down very well, if I say so myself. And about a gallon and a half of red wine. Each. Post-prandial viewing was a little more "daytime" though - the first feature-length episode of "Dallas". That hair, those clothes. And that was just me. BTW, the lovely Miss FVE (end photo) has a new show - "L'Envers des Corps" - opening this week at the gallery where she works and spent most of Saturday afternoon dusting a golden skeleton in the name of art, so I urge the Parisians among you to go along. There. Now pass the Rennies, I've got indigestion.

Last Night...

...I dined on Ferrero Rochers, crisps, "creative" chocolate chips and champagne, and chatted with two people who've acted in French cop show "PJ", a Canadian author, and an American punk drummer/expert on Heidegger. So eclectic it made me feel quite giddy. I should go to more parties like that. Many thanks to my favourite "muse" who was, as always, the perfect hostess.

Chicken Soup

After three heavy nights on the trot, there was just no way I could contemplate going out again Saturday. Particularly on top of the mother of all hangovers after an evening drinking and dancing with Petite Anglaise (planned) and Noodle (! - not planned) into the wee small hours and then (madly) walking home from Place de Clichy. After spending most of the day failing to buy a sofa (perfect model but too long a delivery time) or any food (couldn't face the thought of Monoprix) there was only one thing for it. Well, two things really - takeout pizza and champagne. Rhino75's own version of chicken soup. What better remedy for a jaded partygoer? Just to be on the safe side, we added in a bottle of (medicinal) red wine and my "Oliver" DVD in the background (obligatory camp touch). And settled down for an evening swapping stories about pizza delivery (I now know one young man who always "gets extra pepperoni" when he picks up the phone - and no jokes about cheezy crust, please), the comic genius of Ali G., classic British movies, soon-to-be-filmed French movies, musicals, food, the Brontë Sisters, George Eliot, first loves, last loves and which parties are coming up this week. Even Kitty joined us (rare). I woke up feeling like a new man. Actually, I woke up to this greasy pizza box, an overflowing ashtray and dirty wineglasses, but you know what I mean. Staying in - it's just what the doctor ordered.

Owwww....

...my head. Went to a fabulously fun party last night at EMI, mingling with the likes of Lily Allen, Benjamin Biolay, Stanislas Merhar, Sid 'n' Nancy. Yet again, that winning combination of celebs and open bar worked its magic and I feel rough as an old dog after crawling home at 3:30 a.m. Stand by for the pics. Among the highlights were Hans Henrick and his parrot Lord B (we all had our photo taken with Lord B), two funny guys I met in the loo who have a band and gave me their cd, a strange man dressed as a rabbit and someone who works for smoothie company Innocent. To read the lovely Nardac's account of the evening, click here. And at some point, you should be able to see pics of the party here too. Pass the aspirin, I'm late for work. (P.S. oooh watching Le Grand Journal on TV this evening, they did a little feature on this party: also present were French minstrel Raphael, Badly Drawn Boy, and the Divine Comedy. And some bloke in a red shirt that I gave a hard time to. I am on the cutting room floor - again.)

Is that? Could it be?

Oh yes, dear reader, when my friend Mickelino decides to push to boat out, he does it in style. And just look who was the guest of honour!! I don't want to get "Hung Up" on naming names, and if you've "heard it All before, heard it all before" etc. then I'm "Sorry". That as many clues as you're getting. The pics speak for themselves (click on them to see more). It was a wonderful night: fantastic food, beautiful people, great music, "enthusiastic" dancing, need I say more?? Be sure to visit Micke's site tomorrow and wish him a Happy Birthday!! P.S. As you can tell, I've cheered up quite a bit since my last post. I love weekends.

Football Fever

So, as of last night, France is in the World Cup final!! Who'd have thought it? It's kind of taken everyone by surprise, particularly after the dismal start the team had against Switzerland, but now the whole country is in the grip of football fever. Why, dear reader, I was even bribed myself into supporting "Les Bleus" by Bruno's offer of free beer and pizza round at Château LOG (turned out to be a very impressive spread, too, with melon and all sorts - yummm). To be honest, the game itself wasn't much to write home about. The only goal came from a penalty after 10 minutes and the whole match was severely lacking in oomph, although there was some great defensive play from the French team. But, of course, getting to the final was the most important thing and seconds after the final whistle, the streets around Bastille were full of cheering supporters and tooting horns. And look, second photo in, you can see Darren, doing his stuff on the telly!! I saw him in the office earlier in the day and his tip was for a France vs. Italy final (which proved to be correct) but for Italy to win. Is he Nostradamus? Or is he Paco Rabanne? We'll have to wait until Sunday to find out. Come on now, all together, "Allez les bleus, Allez les bleus" (OMG, it's catching!).

I've danced with the man...

...who danced with the girl who...oh well, you get the picture. Jarvis Cocker's sister-in-law, to be precise. It still ranks some way behind my drink with Sting's gran, but it's not bad for a Friday. And it all took place inside a bridge. Which was incredibly hot, but extremely cool (if I may appear to contradict myself). There were all these stone heads lying around that apparently came from the 16th century Pont du Louvre (on the site of today's Pont Neuf). Frankly, it seems as good a place to keep them as any. Anyway, many thanks for the invite to those gorgeously fashionable kids about town Sid and Nancy. Very good fun, even if I was a little pooped from my London trip. I even made the little banner at the top of this post from my camera pics of the lights!! (creative to a fault, some might say). The rest of the weekend was spent lounging around, trying out my new camera, watching football, crying tears of national shame, watching more football, trying to be a good sport, and drinking and chatting with friends on a café terrace into the night as the whole of Paris, or so it seemed, drove past tooting their horns and waving flags. Yes, well I hope they're still tooting and waving on Wednesday night, is all I'll say. Hmmph. (Am such a bad loser, I know).

Dressing up

It was 3 a.m., The party seemed to be winding down and most people were leaving. We started on the final bottles of champagne and then all of a sudden... the costumes and the whisky came out. Hurrah!! It's a long time since I've danced to Rockwell (?!) or munched my way compulsively through an entire packet of crunchy bacon horns for breakfast. Top fun and many thanks to the hostess with the mostest.

Getting in touch with your inner queen

queenin'
Originally uploaded by rhino75.

Oh yes, and there are more of these to come - some people should start getting very afraid!! :D

Lordi!!

There were tears and gnashing of teeth at Rhino75 Towers last night and it was all because of these guys. Oh yes. Because, dear reader, this is the group that won the 2006 Eurovision Song Contest. Can you believe it? The Buffyfication of one of the major events on the camp calendar. Outrageous. I love Finland and there's a place (I'm sure) for a KISS tribute band but it's not Eurovision. And what made it worse was that this year, for the first time in AGES, there was actually a - relatively - good crop of entries. My fellow juror Micke and I, in between mouthfuls of pizza and gulps of red wine, both managed to vote for Sweden's "Invincible" performed by that fabulous old Eurovision trooper Carola. The wind machine, the trowelled make-up, the outrageous frock, the belting voice - *textbook* ESC and surely a natural winner. Russia's amazingly tacky entry also had its merits (cute guy who could jump very high) and even the U.K.'s entry wasn't that embarrassing (for once). France, however, narrowly avoided a "nul points" disaster - they did change the song from the original selection (good thing) but replaced it with, to paraphrase Mr. Wogan, the same song they've been singing since 1977 (bad thing). And the poor girl looked as if she was hating every minute and couldn't wait to get back to her hairdressing job. Anyway after such irrefutable proof that there is no Eurovision god, what could I do but head off to my friend Amy's birthday party and drown my sorrows? Until 6 a.m. this morning. Yes, I think you can imagine how great I'm feeling today. But it was worth it - great fun, loadsa booze and the opportunity to dance (well, hobble in my case) to Soft Cell's "Tainted Love".
P.S. If you're after a glimpse of life in the wings at Eurovision, I recommend you hop across to Troubled Diva's report here. Great stuff!