Stretch say click here!
Anyway, time travel is really a pointless activity. If you travel back in time, you will be ostracised, be called a witch or warlock and be murrrderrred. If you go forward in time, people will think that you are a complete idiot and murrrderrr you. Leave well enough alone. Pensez-vous?
While eating a choc-ice the other day and listening to “Rock’n’roll” by the Velvet Underground, a thought entered my mind out of nowhere. Ou est Chok Rock?
Not the most well known of groups on planet Franche, but damn good. Only releasing one EP doesn’t count for much these days but the quality in that little release has made them Stretch heroes. They are/were lead by Gael Baillier and feature well known crooner Camille Bazbaz, which is the name I plan to give little Stretch when he or she pops out. I mean what a great fucking name. You just don’t get names like that here. I bet Jesus would’ve loved that name, might have made him more popular.
These peops played support to “Mr Ballbeam” BEANS a couple of years ago in Eamon Dorans in Dubalin. A really cool gig even though there were only a scattering of people at it. I spent the whole gig with my arm leaning on the bar with a perfect view of proceedings. Only male gibbons dream of this. It was part of a Warp records weekender type event which are all too unfamiliar on these shores these days. On a drunken rampage, we arrived at the door and were given half our money back because fuck all people showed. A warm feeling was created inside me, which I will never repeat, not in company anyway.
Chok Rock came on and just looked cool. A strange combination of characters. Bazbaz was
wearing an enormous scarf which covered his entire head while guitarist Cyril Kebellian was dressed like an English soccer hooligan. Shit, it really is hard to explain how cool these Parisiens were: electro, indie cool, beaucoup Franchey, a graphic design sensibility and they just seemed to enjoy being Chok Rock.
Say you wandered into a cool hotel in Paris and were having a great night out and your brain was all happy happy and you liked every person you were out with and the drinks you were drinking were hitting the right spot and you wanted to listen to music but not house or rap or aggresive rock band stuff. You stood there with your enormous white russian and on comes Chok Rock and all you could do was smile to yourself and say, “thank the lord I’m human, a rabbit would never appreciate this shit!” Being cool and feeling cool are two completely different things and it’s best to aim for the latter.
Anyway, I demand you click here and buy the EP (Eur3.99, the price of a pint, though not in Paris), shtick it on yer music device and with the cocktail of your choice and just enjoy 28 minutes of Franche cool. Excuse me if I’m gushing but I gotta do it. This band have to know they are loved and come back….
Speaking of gushing, many years ago a Small Stretch woke up in the middle of the night screaming “The Mexicans are coming, the Mexicans are coming.” Ol Mama Stetch ran in to the room to see what was the cause of the night terrors. When she figured it out, she could never look me in the eye again.