Beat-Punk Poetry 'n' Blues in Paris
- Grae Wall
- Jun 3
- 8 min read
I arrived at Victoria Coach Station with plenty of time to spare, so was able to have a glass of wine at The Travellers Tavern along with others destined for various journeys. I sat outside just people watching and looking forward to the long ride ahead.
The FlixBus pulled in with just ten minutes to load up before our departure time of 11.59pm, but the affable driver checked our documentation and got us all loaded up swiftly, suggesting a safe spot for my guitar, and off we rolled. The plan was to try and get some sleep, and I think I managed to nod off for about an hour before we arrived at Dover where we all had to disembark and file through passport control before heading on to the ferry. I guess you’d call it a dawn crossing as the sun was just appearing as we set sail towards France. It was lovely crossing at that time of day, and there were no seats really suitable for a kip, so I spent much of the voyage just hanging out on deck watching the glowing sun rise over The Channel.
I didn’t manage to grab much more sleep between Calais and Paris, but felt fine as I wandered out of the bus station to find a café to get a shot of caffeine and work out my metro route to Voltaire.
The folks at Hôtel Paris Voltaire were kind enough to let me check in early, around mid-day. The foyer of the hotel had a quirky feel, adorned as it is with statues and decorations reminiscent of a Paris gone by. The room itself had all that I would require, characterful décor and a centrally placed small leather pillow on the bed – the purpose of which still eludes me. I had time to have a little wander around the area, picking up some provisions from the Auchan supermarket and browsing the racks at the wonderful Born Bad Records which was just a few minutes away.
Our first gig was at The Dissident Salon night at The Dissident Club on Rue Richer. Arriving early, I met up with my comrade in beat-punk poetry & blues, Richard Earls, at a little bar around the corner where we chatted prior to soundcheck. Richard and I first met up at a Big Untidy night at The Rising Sun Arts Centre quite some years ago and being kindred spirits we stayed in touch and conversed online. Richard contributed to two ‘consequence’ poems that I initiated (a poem that gets passed from poet to poet, who each adds a few lines and then passes it on). Richard mentioned last year that he wasn’t getting out to perform live as much as he’d like, being based in rural France, so I suggested we get together and try and do some occasional shows as a duo, and so our little beat-punk poetry & blues revue was born.
The Dissident Club is a cool little venue with a small PA and a DIY anarchic kinda vibe. Having completed our soundcheck (one mic and a DI’d guitar, so nice and simple), we met with the compere for the night Quitterie who was very welcoming and friendly. We kicked off the evening with a short set which went down well. This was followed by a host of engaging and diverse floor-spots, both entertaining and thoughtful. During the interval we chatted with many of the other performers – quite an international bunch (all living in Paris), out on the street in the balmy evening warmth. Then it was time for our second set which again seemed to go down very well, before a few more floor-spots ran us through to the evening’s close. We had performed two new pieces, ‘Her Story’ by Richard and my own ‘Reformation Blues’ and we were particularly pleased that these had gone well and been so well received. It was lovely just chatting away with the other performers and attendees, finding out their stories and sharing ours. I guess around 11pm we said our goodbyes and headed off towards our respective digs. I had a final glass of wine at my local bar, Le Rey, reflecting on how much fun the evening had been.
The following day I returned to Le Rey for morning coffee before heading out for the day. First stop was FNAC at Les Halles shopping centre where I managed to pick up a copy of the recent release from my new favourite French band Cachemire. I picked up on them online last year, but hadn’t been able to find anywhere that sold their albums in the UK. They are a groovy bunch that I would describe as being a cross between Téléphone and Electric Six – high energy rock ‘n’ roll with great attitude and added bounce. They look cool too! Next was a stop off for a delicious lunch of Omelette and salad next to (the currently closed) Pompidou Centre – a lovely spot to dine and people watch.
I next went in search of the Jardin Anne Frank which I’d never visited before. I spotted it on Google Maps recently and realised I must have walked past it many times without realising it was there. It is set at the end of a little Cul-de-Sac very close to The Pompidou and I don’t think there are any signs around to point you there. It is a beautiful little garden, ideal for meditating or contemplation. On the way in are two bold expressive statues that speak of suffering, and then beyond, the calm and tranquillity of the garden itself – a lovely spot that I was very pleased to finally discover. In France, the legacy of Anne Frank is often drawn as a parallel to Hélène Berr. Berr was a 21-year-old Jewish literature student in Paris who kept a diary detailing the Nazi occupation of France, antisemitic persecution, and daily life until her eventual deportation to Bergen-Belsen, where she died just days before liberation.
A couple of years ago Justine and I discovered a wonderful little art gallery called Galleria Continua in Marais. We have visited again since and, on both occasions it had really interesting exhibitions. I headed there again and was not let down by the high quality and thought-provoking work on offer. My favourite was the work of Manuela Sedmach and her Guardatori collection which spoke of the dark and light that exists within each of us – quite moving.
I capped off the afternoon over in the Latin Quarter, mooching around comic shops before wandering up to St Paul where I arranged to meet Richard at a sweet bar called Bistro La Place on the endearing Place Sainte-Catherine. We sat on the terrace in the glorious early evening sunshine and chatted about music, art, the state of the world and our third-age bohemia. Richard mentioned that apparently the following day was going to be the kind of heat that kills old folks and I asked – only semi-jokingly – if that meant us. Whenever the door opened, we caught the strains of some classic 60’s r ‘n’ b or some B.B. King – sweet. We probably spent a couple of hours there just shooting the breeze before deciding on a meet up time for the following day and then heading off to our respective neighbourhoods. That evening, after a light meal in my room I wandered down to Place de la Nation where kids were meeting up and hanging out, skateboarders and e-scooters cruising past as I sat at yet another pavement table. Wandering homeward I stopped for a final glass at Le Rey before retiring.
Day three, completely forgetting Richard’s warning about the dangers of the imminent thirty-six-degree heat, I set out (following coffee at Le Rey) to walk from Voltaire to the Latin Quarter as I wanted to stop by Shakespeare and Company for a browse. Along the side of Canal Saint-Martin was a row of small tents that sat in stark contrast to the affluent boats docked below. By the time I started crossing Pont d’Austerlitz I was starting to really succumb to the heat and verging on feeling a little faint. I wondered at what point I should text Richard to tell him I was about to pass out but thankfully made it in time to a little café which provided a carafe of cold water along with my espresso – phew. The front window of Shakespeare and Company was plastered with copies of the new Edward Chisholm book, Murder in Paris ’68. I had read his first book, A Waiter in Paris earlier this year and really enjoyed it, so it was great to discover that there was a second, and that I could quite appropriately purchase it here in Paris. The lady at the till asked if I would be attending the book signing as Mr Chisholm would be appearing there that evening and I had to explain that I wouldn’t be able to make it as I would be performing over in Belleville.
Richard and I both arrived early at Culture Rapide – the home of Paris Lit Up, and Richard had managed to find a table amongst the crowded bustling courtyard out front. We had a conversation about cool brands that had been subsumed by unethical mega-brands – as you do – awaiting someone from PLU to arrive. Richard had performed at Paris Lit Up a few years ago, and I performed virtually there during lockdown, so it was the perfect venue for our second Parisian performance. After a while our host and compere Chris (one of the team who run PLU) arrived and welcomed us, explaining the running order and set up.
There was no soundcheck required as there is no PA at PLU, so everyone performs entirely unplugged. Once again there was a fine and diverse array of floor-spots – I think many PLU regulars - who performed over the course of the evening, some witty, some intense, all absorbing. We kicked off our set once again with Reformation Blues and the crowd seemed to instantly warm to us, seemingly in the mood for some rollicking beat-punk poetry & blues, and so we progressed through the set delivering perhaps our best to date – feeling very much alive and kicking. We finished the set (as we have done previously) by announcing that we would finish with an old English folk song before blasting into our blues-punk rendition of Anarchy in the UK. Much cheering, hollering and stamping of feet ensued, demanding an encore of us and fortunately we had one of Richard’s numbers – You Are My Heartbeat – left in hand to round off the evening. We chatted to many of the other performers after the show. Several asked me about Anarchy in the UK as they’d never heard it before (which did surprise me), but then they were probably half our age I guess. We retired to the front yard for a final drink to toast the success of our micro-Paris-tour.
Back in Voltaire I rounded off the evening with a nightcap at Le Rey, the waiter smiling with recognition at my inevitable return. I smiled a smile of peace and satisfaction, comfortable in the skin of this bohemian beat-punk third-ager.
It felt a little sad to be taking my final visit to Le Rey the next morning for first coffee of the day, and I was again greeted with a smile of recognition. The metro journey to the bus station was an easy hop, so, arriving early I just hung out in the park for an hour or so awaiting the bus. On the journey home we took the shuttle rather than the ferry which was a little disappointing as I had been looking forward to sitting on deck watching France fade in to the distance, but hey-ho.
A huge thanks is due to the wonderful folks at The Dissident Club and Paris Lit Up for having us and making us feel so welcome! Finally big thanks to my comrade Richard who liaised with the venues beforehand, and with whom it is always a joy to share the stage.
Until Next Time!
Stay Kind, Stay Creative!
Grae J.
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