The Devil's Unpublished Answer.............................................................
L'autre jour, en sortant d'une épuisante journée de dur labeur... Ce type s'approche, m'avait reconnu.... "Salut c'est Mehdi", qu'il me dit. "T'es pas du coin, toi? que je rétorque. alors, dégage et en mai et en outre fais ce qu'il te plait mais pas avec une telle couleur de peau". Un de ces 4.... Faudra bien qu'il y ait la paix... On le sait bien... Rien ne Prez, cela  dit... Espérons que la vioque enterre encore the young... J'ai une photo d'elle dans mon bureau, déguisée en Mireille... Après quelques verres, ça fait presque illusion... J'ai bien dit presque, Prez. Voyez-vous, ma femme, ah qui j'ai toujours été fidèle --- Le courroux et les roues de Dieu, j'évite, moi! Moi! Moi. Je. --- elle m'a dit: "Il est joli, ton cou rouge! C'est mignon, un vieux redneck! Laisse tes jolies oreilles  apparentes, en février. Cela te donne un air rigolo". Ile de Belle. Evidemment, dans ma country, les traitres ils écoutent n'importe quoi, des voyous de Dartford et des parias, derrière mon dos. Pendant que je trime comme un slave à Paris. C'est un complot artistique. On veut me détruire, jusqu'à ce que je ne Trump plus personne. Démocratie! Et quand je kaputterai, ils diront "En bas! Non , François". C'est bon d'avoir des gens qui vous soutiennent dans le souci... Au niveau santé? Ma femme, voyez-vous-bis, elle m'a dit que j'avais peur de savoir. Non, j'ai pas peur. Et si on n'a pas peur, alors.... Osons! Les chirurgiens m'ont dit: "Tout s'est bien passé. Vous avez vécu comme vous l'entendiez? Alors priez maintenant". Inutile de dire que j'ai pas envie d'aller à St-Petersburg pour y dénicher des bootlegs de Shostakovich. M'en fous. J'ai tout Billie Holiday, y compris le film de Lee Daniels sur cette pauvre femme. "Strange Fruit", ça s'invente pas. Hélas, les sources sont oubliées dans la France actuelle. Du Blues, du Blues, du Blues. Qui oserait me contredire?
Moi, les diffamations, ça me laisse indifférent. C'est facile, de critiquer les hommes de bien. Faites-en autant. Grimpez sur un toit de maison, m^me en carton tel le chimpanzé de Léo Ferré, et au lieu de Bartok et Mozart, apprenez la politique. Il est mieux où il est est, va, Léo.... Il serait capable de me mettre en pièces. Mais fallait que je réussisse. C'est dur d'être aimé par des cons... Tout pouvoir est sublime. C'est encore pire d'être détesté par des gens supers. Eh oui, j'ai appris la nouvelle. Bye Jacques. J'étais aux funérailles. Cela fait longtemps que je vous ballade dur. Le revenu mininum de criminalité,  c'est moi. J'ai encore grossi. Big big. Gonna be big... Manque plus que 2 roulettes sous les arpions et c'est le Bibendum centriste du millénium. Vous ^tes pas sympas. Heureusement, big fat Trump à la TV hier soir, c'était poil au dents poilant. Je crois pas que Emmanuel va cautionner sa requête, cela dit. La mienne non plus anyway. Le Morbihan, c'est pas red top pour se détendre avant de se faire casser la gueule... Avant mon breakdown de février, faudrait que j'aille breaker un break à Perpignan. J'y ai plein d'amis....
Voyez-vous, donc, chers amis, comme vous le savez, je vous souhaite une excellente année. Je vous aurai fait rire. Enfin, pas tout le monde...
Un bon MoDem est un parti mort. Comme son président.

Happy New Year 2024 (According To.........)

Juillet 1979

That was the recurrent joke. Every month, once or twice, on y avait droit: Procol Harum enfin reformés! It was not the case at all, so, when "The Prodigal Stranger" came out I didn't think it was true................................................
Until I saw the record! C'était donc vrai! 
Alas, invaded in our flat, Isabelle was on the edge of a nervous breakdown Our cat Melody, aged 1 week, had fallen out from the window and since we had seen this horrible thing, needless to say we were not in the mood to dance with "Little Bitty Pretty One"...... Bizarre spirits in this apartment... I was back to songwriting again, wordless pieces and some also neeeded words..... 
I went out walking around the Henri IV Résidence for hours with the brand-new Keith Reid's words in mind and that's how "Sign Of The Times" was conceived. Passion was sick and we had so few keeps. Someone screwed the master plans. Again. What we had wasn't worth a dime.
--- What do you think? I asked Isa...........
--- Very Procol. I hope it's  not us on the descending scale, yet...............

Grand Matthew and all the bandmates at the Elysée-Montmartre knew, maybe..... They came from a very tortured path and that was not over. Even "Journey's End" and "I'll Be There" would have a reissue from copied LPs and some tracks had unwanted cuts + unwanted overdubs. Il a des raisons d'être triste, Matthew... Quand j'y repense... Fallait le Courage d'un Chris Copping pour assurer après Fisher! But as always. Never respected like they should be. It was us on the descending scale. Where were the poisons from the cups? We didn't have a clue. 
Years later, Isa fell in love with the instrumental renditions on "Windows"...
But one or two or more monkeys were able to stop more shows.
In spite of repeated warnings..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Don't ask for Forgiveness.

Indian Summer

Written by Robin Trower & Keith Reid, Remix.
But the Red trip would deserve a book! Sacred Iverson Minter...! Yes, Robert knew: Red was fun to work and hang around with! Back to this evening with the Blues Team of 1982.... Robert took another pill, he had a bad cough. "I hope I'll be able to sing tonight......" he mumbled. "You will", said Annie. We nodded our heads. Robert was not convinced, yet... ............... ............... ........... I noticed his presence, behind the curtain, during my short set.... A revamped "Me And the Devil Blues" was included, of course. Silence. I left the stage, and Robert came almost immediately after me..... I tried not to burst into tears during his version of "Little Queen Of Spades" --- the idea of a cover came on that night..... Very tired by his respiratory problems --- un mauvais rhume... --- Robert could hardly sing... His guitar playing, ceci étant dit,  sounded like God playing the instrument instead of him. 12 strings guitar. Right or wrong, I didn't want to play "Let's Take A Walk With Me" because Robert would do it.... Nowadays, I still like a lot  this 1982' version we recorded, --- Some maybe not noticeable Gram touch in it too ---but as always, with not enough time to rehearse the songs. In retrospect.... "Let's Take A Walk With Me" recorded in  less than 20 minutes, overdubs included! Honest, beloozers can't do that! In the end, some of these songs have passed the test of time and some others are more archeology... Just like myself, Robert left the stage in a silence that was more respect than freeze. Now, with Luther Johnson Jr and JB Hutto, it would rock and put all radiators on!
I had discovered Robert Lockwood with the LP "Steady Rolling Man", in October, 1979, this record brought me great relief,  and I became a fan ever since, whenever you could find his records.....
when I finally got back home, I looked everywhere for the ads.... But Masse had told me the harsh truth: "Morgantini n'est pas intéressé par l'héritier de Robert Johnson et ses amis. Cela ne lui convient pas". An enigma, this Lockwood! His roots are Robert Johnson, veuf assez jeune,  and his music has always something really dreamy, whatever he does.... Could it be the use of Chorus effect on his instrument? Must be also because, if he was never a very popular artist, he was wise enough to escape the Robert Johnson's tragic destiny that he knew very well. Like Johnny Shines, he saw and knew things. Things to do and not to do. Not anyone deserves body and soul. And it's true too that for a wild rose or/and some evil child unable to stop evil thangs..... When freezing emptiness comes back as a feedback... Oh no. It's not the end of the party. It only just begins!

Carmen

Written by Keith Reid & Robin Trower.
Buddy Guy & Junior Wells.... Jimmy Johnson.... Non. Personas non grattées, Empty Bed. No opening act. Il y avait eu aussi la rétrospective Blues à la MJC Cadier, Méliès plus tard et shine a light comme on peut avec, le drame des drames: L'agonie de Robert Pete Williams live. Avec de vrais morceaux de bronches. De Jack, aucune nouvelle depuis longtemps. Il se faisait aussi rare qu'un LP  de Robert Jr.Lockwood sur PVine Records.... Et c'est alors que.......! Spring! Mars...! Sans déconner, Magic Slim & The Teardrops, MJC Cadier! Nous y allâmes, moi et les buddy buddy friends... Sapés dans d'affreux costards violets trop grands et trop larges --- A mon avis, un choix imposé par le Jim Crow du Cold-Club --- Alabama Jr.Pettis était le plus tristounet à voir. Même Screamin' Jay Hawkins aurait trouvé ça d'un goût déplorable. Comme des bêtes de foire. Un vrai enculé de négrier. 
Le concert fut bon, moins renversant que celui de la fin 1978, certes, et cela faisait longtemps que renversés nous avancions, à défaut de faire la 1ère partie, pourquoi ne pas aller congratuler les musiciens backstage avant la 2ème partie? Ce qui fut fait et au retour, Jack vint annoncer que les deux guitaristes d'un certain groupe présent dans la salle ce soir venaient de voler sans vergogne les jeux de cordes de rechange à Magic Slim et Alabama Jr. On regarde dans la salle --- Réflexe conditionné.... No. Love is not around tonight.
La moutarde ne prit pas, heureusement, et le concert s'acheva de façon bancale. 
Mars 1980. Le Grand Organisateur de Concerts de Blues venait d'achever sa Grande Finale. Magnifique fin de carrière. Ain't nothing to worry about.
Il n'y eut plus, sauf avis contraire, d'autre Blues show après celui-ci.
Un pionnier mérite de se reposer, aussi. Comme l'avait ironisé un membre d'Empty Bed en ce début 1980: "Serge me fait un peu peur, parfois, c'est vrai.... Mais enfin..... Tant qu'il ne tombe pas amoureux de Marcelle Morgantini, il en est une qui peut encore espérer!".............................

Won't Let You Down

Lonnie Johnson looked at the clock... 30 minutes left to practice la guitare before going to educate the kids in the school. Yes, Lonnie was forced to do that to make a living, but, read carefully what follows and see what happens!
Enters a friend of him, he listens for a few minutes and say to, Lonnie:
--- You really play de mieux en mieux! 
Lonnie, modeste by nature, naturally replied:
--- C'est ce que me dit too un de mes élèves.... Robert.... Aucun lien parenté... Il ira loin, ce gamin, mais faut qu'il fasse gaffe avec les gonzesses:
Jamais la femme d'un autre! Et puis, on n'a pas à rendre de compte sur sa private life. c'est quoi cette inquisition de merde? Fuck you. Bon, allez, faut que j'y aille..... 
He goes. Now in the classroom, the kids are in awe with him. Why? Because he's teaching them what the kids must know: What you learn from the Blues is more important than what you learn from le belooze. 
--- Mes enfants...! Aujourd'hui, je vais vous raconter l'histoire, un peu inquiétante, du monkey et du babouin.... A privilege for you! You can't find it in the valley!
--- Oui, Lonnie! Raconte! Raconte!
--- Alors, voilà.... Le monkey et le babouin jouaient in the grass... C'était pendant une propagande du monkey, a few years ago. Le monkey, il montre ses ads and pubs au babouin and this one looks with a bad moue and says:
--- It stinks. I know what you're trying to do. With this kid in your arms.... Is he in the arms of his enemy?  Beware, if you try to make a monkey out of me, I'll make doo-doo-doo-doo a babboooon out of you!
--- Oh! Shut your mouse! was the answer.... And they were far from knowing what was hiding behind the masks.................................................!
(Continuing on "22-O7-96")

The Infinite Joys Of A Brand - New Brain

--- Bien répondu! Very good! Et alors, après? Tell us, Lonnie! 
--- Alors, la propagande suit what must satanically be, the eyes are crossed and cynicism wins again. Le gars, so called paranoid, was taking notes, but he was not the only one: Many others had mixed emotions with the monkey's programmes, and so local Justice began to follow the clowning boss.... He lied and cheated everywhere, as always, and one day.... His decline began. The big downfall. National and International Justice joined in to stop him and a very popular Rock band was groaning "Ggggrrrrr!" too. 
Le truc et le smuck et le trick were finally found,, written on a note in the monkey's office. What he really wanted was: THE SINGE, NOT THE SON.
--- But..... Mais.... screamed the kids, horrified..... C'est de la criminalité! Une injustice! Un complot politique! Il voulait le détruire! 
--- Eh oui, kids.... It took time, but the monkey got killed in the end. Everybody knew everything and anything about his intentions. He couldn't escape. Voilà. That's the end of the today's story, les gosses! Allez, rentrez chez vous et méditate all of this! 
--- Lonnie! Lonnie! Quand est-ce que tu nous amènes rendre visite à Cousin Herzhaft?
--- Pas avant que vous ne donniez quelques coups de savatte au clone de Billy Bizor. Faut choisir: Blues. ou belooze.

The kids went home and told the tale to their parents. Les parents n'en revenaient pas ---- Jusqu'où la connerie peut aller pour accéder au Pouvoir?!//////!?/...................................................................................................
Lonnie, quant à lui, learned some weeks later that his guitar student Robert was in serious trouble with one, than two, then three and more women. Got to be worked on,  sure, mais faut savoir se calmer!
There was nothing that Lonnie could do about it, but eventually pray. That was not enough. Sad to say, but hellhounds took possession of the poor Robert. He should have known better............................................................

22 - 07 - 1996 (Backing Track)

While listening adlib to the magnificent album that is Levon Helm's "Dirt Farmer"...Sometimes it's inscrutable and sometimes it is easy to understand what a musician has in mind when he walks beside or behind you... Since I had entered in this concert hall in Angoulême, early-March, 1982, John Hammond  insisted on me for 2 reasons. 1: He wanted me to listen to a cassette containing the -- then unreleased -- Robert Johnson recordings. 2: Wanted to invite me and Josiane ("La future Mme Zéni! C'est l'évidence même!" dixit Jean-Marie Masse) for becoming close friends, talking, etc and that's exactly what happened! So there we are, also including Mrs Hammond and daughter and John --- A Gentleman among Gentlemen --- John had, of course, millions of anecdotes to tell, but was not the kind to poison you with it. His greatest reference in white Blues was and probably still is, The Band. If this meeting should happen these days, we'd crying in the arms of each other and even Robert Johnson would join us! The evening was pure Blues Delight and soon enough I had made my own version of Sleepy John Estes' "Drop Down Mama" under the influence of Sir Hammond...! .......... Masse asked me where was the lovely girl before the Lockwood event begun and seemed terribly anxious when I told him I was without any news for months..... A case of hellhounds? Anyway, I admit that It's not a subject enjoyable for me, even today..... This freezing song, "Lonesome Guitar", has many angelic faces passing when you listen to it, and one for Zah too and that's a song that you enjoy the best without rags and cherries. I still hate cherries. And I loathe rags.

The End Of The Neverending Regressive Tour

--- What are we doing here, anyway? asked the Duke to the Kong. My material is old and not fashionable.... Modeski. 
--- When you'll sell plus de ta wonderful poésie, buy yourself some like mine:
Zenlenski. Cool, poet.... Débranche ton  effet Chaud-Russe.... En Napoléon, ça le fait pas.... Mais non, on va pas se faire tuer.... Cool: Zen... Cold! Laine-len.... Snowfallers are we? Ski! Note que je serais better chez moi.... Tranquille, growing fat with sorrow, fear and sin..... 
--- That's very alright, peasant who wanted to be president.... Hey! With the smell you almost did, a bit camembert! I ain't gonna die myself like you. I'm already dead. Everybody that is wise knows it's true. One day they'll burn my corpse and that will be over. But! And that's a serious but: I know exactly the places where the kid was going and that's how I learned the ski rudiments..... Ah, Font-Romeu...... Poor Josiane probably buried in the snow... But no we're not gonna get killed!........ Well... OK. We try?
--- Et Dicaire qui s'en dédit. Art in Dead Town.... Si c'est pas de l'amour..... Ils s'en foutent, ces ploucs. Plus on leur chie sur la gueule et plus ils sont joyce. Bref..... Un... Deux.... Trois..... Parti!!!!!!!!
Si vous lisez à travers ce SoundCloud, vous avez compris à quel point les Bandcamps témoins d'un temps révolu --- Oui! Ce sera refait! --- en disent long...... Si, par contre, vous croyez dur comme fer et jouez les mêmes jeux minables en souriant Mona Lisa et vieille Joconde etc etc black cat etc etc dogs in heat etc etc, wishing SZ will play too...... Alors vous nous faites vraiment pitié. Pour, once again, staying Polly and civilized. 
Vraiment.

A To Fade In

Too many worms... Too many wars.....
(Restons Polly!)
F-U-CK  Y-O-U, B-A-Y-R-O-U.
Yeah, folks. Jean-Marie Masse had seen it coming on this November night, 1982... Morgantini was not into the Blues anymore. Consequently, all real followers to Robert Johnson would go to the toilets, black, brown or beige.. Quant aux blancs, needless to say... How amazed were the trashmen to find Peter Green, Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, and many tons of others thrown away. Like pieces of shit. One day, the legion of beloozers would take place. No more truth. 
What? If Morgantini thought to invite Johnny Shines?
And why not John Lennon or Gram Parsons, tant qu'on y est?
Jean-Marie Masse never stopped his fight for authentic Blues. And also Jazz as well. As he said to a stunning audience, 5 minutes before I came on stage on the Lockwood Night...
--- Le Hot-Club de Limoges n'organise plus, dès ce soir, des concerts de Blues, mais des récitals de musique négroïde. Le Blues étant en train de devenir une poubelle plus variété que Blues, à quoi bon s'énerver... 
He died many years later, after suffering copiously, totally blind. Maybe Jack O'Diamonds gave a spell to him? We'll never know.
Jacques Morantini died...... etc...... alors ça c'est triste.... un tel chic type... Merci de tirer la chasse. Bye. Pchhh-pcchh-pchhh... Pas mal du tout, ce vaporisateur anti mauvaises-odeurs!

Voices From An Other World

Happy New Year 2024. As I Am: Gentle. All Is Forgiven.

Serge Zéni

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