If you’re also someone who hasn’t really listened to Flume because you’re surrounded by snobs, try the track “Ezra”, that’s what I’m trying now. Last week I didn’t have to try because I got to have Flume right in the face in the middle of Paris, with hundreds of French people going absolutely crazy and singing along to every single thing except for the two girls who broke up their karaoke devotion with “F*** me Flume!!!” over and over. I don’t know if that’s the best pick up line in the over-privileged world. Personally I could be won over with “You look like you want to work hard on creating utopia on earth, want someone to make you sandwiches and push you to truly get on with it?”
Anyway, our own Perth Kučka (Laura Lowther) was there in Paris on tour with Flume to just sing two songs at each show and to gradually draw around her more people to love her music. An easy task if any one ever sees her play. My favourite person to watch watching Kučka do shows is the boyfriend of RTR’s music director. Every time he’s a little bit drunk and gets more and more inebriated and invigorated on his own body’s reaction to Laura’s music.
Well, me and Laura hung out in her dressing room. This is what tours seem to be made of from what I’ve seen of all the friends. It’s just transport, being in rooms, instagram, playing a tiny bit of music and then taking up whatever oysters of quick friendship and delicious food and beverages occasionally come your way as everyone wants to please a star. How do you please a star? Just by looking up at them through time and space as they gradually burn out as all of us do, back in to dust, etc.
Well, Laura put on her makeup, we talked about whether it was possible for either of us to be a spy as a job, or whether we both just can’t be truly normal in make up. She did great big eyes, a good hairstyle with her pink hair that in so conservative Paris was enough to make people turn around in the street when we walked along later that night and in the morning. We listened to my masters and talked about songs and she gave me some insight into what the Flume boy is like: basically a truly “beau gosse” (bo goss) which is a French way of saying what a deeply babing babe. You can see it when you look at his face, a truly nice guy, the best possible guy to be having girls yelling “F*** me” and not take it seriously, the best possible guy to be rolling in dollars and slightly embarrassed about it and wondering how to use it for good. And a truly great musician.
Well, yes, Flume played and I got to be in my favourite place, at the front, saved by the barriers and not crushed in the crowd. He was beautiful, he did the same hand gestures to try and give a “Yes! I can see you and want you to be excited” to the crowd, but so humble too. How can you be in front of hundreds (or tens of thousands) of screaming people, just you on the stage, all the love and devotion directed at you, and exude humility? Dunno but he did it. He obviously played all the hits because everyone knew all the words, but the parts I could truly love were where it went away from easy poppy production and into some darker places – but darker like the beauty spots on a smiling 13 year old who had kind parents and is looking after a lamb out in the back yard and defends anyone at school who gets picked on. Not like Slayer dark. The other day I made the mistake of saying to my friend in between showing more and more good Australian music “Let’s listen to some Slayer!” and I’m still traumatised by the first five seconds of the film clip. Not that kind of dark.
Anyway, after dancing with Laura after her beautiful two song triumphant appearance, and the crowds ongoing going-wildness, three stories of a beautiful remade palatially theatrical room in Le Trianon, we went for a late night drink and kept talking about music, and our town, and all the good things about it and the moments of shittiness when people rag on other people’s music, and how to change the world, and Harley (that’s Flume’s actual name for all the snobs) came by with some crew members with a brand new keyboard under his arm – one where the keys are even more sensitive than the keys of an actual piano, and at this point I saw how he’s like the other “big stars” we know, because he told us “I’m going to go play with this for a while and then go to sleep”, instead of staying downstairs with us, talking and eating soup and soaking up a room full of random Parisian late night energy. Good choice little Flume, you’re truly a true beau gosse. <> <> <>