The 6th edition of the This Is Not A Love Song festival has just ended. We were there, and we're telling you all about it.
For those who still watch TV or have just arrived from Saturn, This Is Not A Love Song (pronounced TINALS), is the French Coachella, minus the assholes. In any case, it's the perfect place for an indie rock detox in a relaxed atmosphere, without getting your Converses stomped on. Based in and around Paloma, the ultra-modern venue in Nîmes, yet nestled between an airfield and an abandoned railway yard, the festival has some major strengths up its sleeve: an impeccable editorial line (bye bye Vianney), limited capacities due to the venues (bye bye giant screens), a city where it's good to chill (hello terraces and old stones), quality food trucks (which everywhere else would be an oxymoron). The lineup, a clever mix of discoveries, rising stars, established bands, and old glories, allows you to pick and choose without putting pressure on anything other than your throat.
New takes on old favorites
DYGL
To hear them, they're from Sheffield. To see them, less so. But it must be admitted that these Tokyoites have learned their little illustrated Arctic Monkeys (prefaced by the Strokes) by heart. As a result, 3-minute bombshells follow one another to the delight of an audience charmed by so much exoticism and happy to rediscover a certain idea of rock'n'roll abandoned by their aforementioned parents.
Gus Dapperton
When you make indie pop and you're not Japanese, you have to stand out somehow. For the New York prodigy and his band, it's bowl cuts, colored hair, and overalls. As long as he keeps that innate sense of melody, we don't give a damn, as the young people say, since he delightfully transports us back to 80s sounds à la Pale Fountains, Prefab Sprout, or Field Mices. One to watch!
Don't believe the hype
Superorganism
The Anglo-Kiwi-Nipponese fanfare was predicted to have a tough time live, but that's not the case. Sure, if you're looking for ringing guitars and snapping snares, you'll have to come back another time, but between the self-assurance of the pint-sized singer Orono, the choreography of the improbable team of backing vocalists, and the shrimp-filled videos that made the band's reputation, we had a really good time and sang along with the young people in the front rows: everybody wants to be famous!
Cigarettes after Sex
The Texans filled the main hall, and deservedly so, if you're a fan of Spain or Mojave 3. A celebration of slowness, their music literally plunged the audience into a semi-erotic torpor, and what had to happen happened: the young couple next to me ended up making out intensely. For the drummer, it's harder: snare/hi-hat, bass drum/hi-hat, snare/hi-hat... at a metronome tempo of 40 for an hour, it's enough to make you want to go get hired by Phoenix!
Champions League
Beck
We had seen the Scientologist minnow in 2006 in the midst of 30,000 festival-goers at Rock en Seine, so being in the front row this Friday evening felt like revenge! During a set alternating past hits (Devil's Haircut, Girl, or the essential Loser) and present ones (Colors, Dreams, Up All Night), we were able to note his complete lack of talent for dancing, and his absolute talent for surrounding himself with the best. Special mention goes to the introduction of the musicians with covers – among others – of the Rolling Stones and Talking Heads.
Phoenix
Okay, let's be frank, we're fans. And the fact that we bumped into them in town, carrying a bag of calissons, didn't help our groupie-tude. But we have to admit it: the show borders on autopilot. The setlist, though composed only of hits, is the same as at the 2017 festivals, and Thomas Mars's antics no longer surprise anyone. All of this could use a bit of renewal, but for the rest, it was still the concert that generated the most enthusiasm. It must be said that it takes a certain talent to make a 6-minute instrumental (Love Like A Sunset part 1) the highlight of the evening. And if that's not enough, you can also spend it watching Thomas Hedlund, the crazy drummer straight out of the Muppet Show.
Brotherhood
The Jesus & Mary Chain
We know that the Reid brothers have never been big jokers on stage, preferring dim lighting, smoke machines, and facing their amps over social interaction. But this band, half responsible for my early deafness, holds a special place in the hearts of many indie fans who, that night, were feeling indulgent. The set, based 3/4 on the very decent last album Damage & Joy released last year and still augmented by the essentials April Skies and Just Like Honey, remains a painful moment for the two brothers. While William counts the holes in his Orange amp grille, Jim Reid vomits his lyrics like a consumptive spits up blood. To die on stage, yes, but not from cancer.
The Breeders
If there are two people happy to be on stage, it's definitely the Deal sisters! Watching them tease each other while drinking tea, you realize that detox cures are far behind them, and that's a good thing. They also provide after-sales service for their latest album, but don't forget to win over the audience with Drivin' On 9 and Cannonball. But what we'll remember most is the beautiful smile that never left their weathered rock 'n' roll grandma faces.
And what if the Reid brothers went for an internship with the Deal sisters?
