Imagine Wembley Stadium. Imagine HP Pavilion. Imagine Carnegie Hall. Now downsize to a room the size of a closet in a tiny eccentrically decorated church packed full or wonderfully exuberant Burgundian farmers and musicians, playing bizarre takes on American music. Welcome to our concert. I am a long way away from SA, Doug Gallagher, and community meeting. But I am very happy, because really music requires nothing but a few instruments and the people with the willingness to play them. Together.

That said, this event was a fiasco from the start. David, as I said, organized it, but it was soon commandeered by a man who more stubborn than Jacques Clouseau, and a lot less resourceful. Jean-Louise took over the concert and proceeded to cause more chaos and stress than David could possibly have done deliberately. Everything was miscommunicated, everything mixed up, rehearsals cancelled or postponed or both (don't ask me how that works, remember I am confused). But being disorganized is forgivable, if you are a good musician. Hmmmm.

But we eventually got used to the idea of Jean-Louise shredding inexpertly but very loudly and out-of-tunely on his electric guitar while we played slow acoustic ballads and delicate harmonies. We sacrificed a little quality, but everyone had a good time. Then in came Michel, a man whose musical prowess extends only to putting the recorded tracks on his keyboard on a loop on max volume and drowning out all competition, as well as using a voice modifier to put him constantly in tune and create multiple artificial harmonies. I have about as high of an opinion of this style of music making as I do of Emma Ritcey (and my opinion of Emma Ritcey is, well, abysmal). But, setting aside my perfectionism and classical training, I settled in for a night of surprises and interesting music and that is, of course, what I received. Alice's outsider account will shortly be posted (remember, she is a writer by profession so have very high expectations). There were, in fact, some very good musicians, including David's friend Cindy, who writes good music and has a wonderfully lustrous voice, a jazz keyboard player come down from Paris, and his wife, who sings American songs with a fiery passion and even more fiery sexuality. Whitney and Alice came dressed to kill in black and red flamenco dresses. Posing before the concert they were mistaken by a passing fashionista as Vogue models.

Our set went very smoothly. It was our international debut on the music scene (we are here till Thursday!!!! Wooooo!!!! Thank you Noyers-sur-Serein!!!! You've been a great crowd!). It was also Casey's first time singing solo vocals and using a mike, but he sang with a voice that made most audience members swoon. Clear and powerful, each word leapt across the room, and the meaning though in a foreign language, was not lost on anyone. I had (if I do say so myself, and I do) a couple fiery violin solo. David kept the whole thing together with the steady professionalism of someone who has jammed with the Grateful Dead and David Bowie and Crosby, Stills, and Nash, and not a few others. (If you think I am joking or exaggerating, I can have Steven Stills on the phone in five minutes. Not kidding). The whole set went very smoothly and we got many, many "Bravos!!" and a few requests for CD's!!!! We are fast becoming legend.

It would a concert that would make many people laugh, some people cry, and a few cringe. But it was a blast, and will never, never be forgotten.