So we’re all tucked up absolutely battered. Slap shuffles out of bed for a fag (not that kind) He ambles towards the balcony covering every piece of carpet in the process. Rich sensing danger leaps out of bed (never seen him move so quickly) and stops slap from leaning out the balcony. It’s a 50ft drop. The Mojitos have really kicked in now and slaps language skills have totally deserted him!!!! It was quite a touching scene, two men locked in an embrace, wearing underpants. Rich supervises slaps fag break then escorts him back to bed.
Bang!!!! There’s an earthquake in the room, Rich and I wake in state of shock fearing for our lives. But Slap’s still asleep!!! The earthquake was slap’ snoring. He continues and goes through his full repertoire: the Elephant on coke, the Walrus on heat, the Tardis landing and the famous dead man (the one with the lengthy pauses in-between snores) Its 12 midday, I felt like I haven’t slept. Slaps still in full swing only this time it’s in stereo; his lower regions are now harmonising if you get my drift. Ricky’s sprawled out on the bed, t-shirt wrapped round his head in an attempt to drown the noise. His 1970s y-fronts around his hips, all that’s missing are the handcuffs. Reminiscent of one my old films, but we’ll leave that there!!!
We all up in a sense, we stroll to the main square using the longest route possible, navigation is not one of Slap’s strengths. Having walked past the same Restaurant 3 times (Ricky is dead fussy) we decide to enter. Slap and I order in French, Ricky’s using perfect English only a bit louder than normal. Ricky’s is slowly piss*** the waiter off (he’s good at that ask the lads) Drinks are order, Ricky orders an Americano, the waiter brings some exotic cocktail (blue Hawaiian I think) Ricky starts to steam. Our orders arrive Rich asks for salt and gets tomato sauce, Rich starts to chunter again.
Florian turns looking typically French, shades, face, stubble, gallic expressions, coffee the whole French thing. |So it’s back to the hotel freshen up then taxi to ile Barbe. I’m first up on dexx, knocking out a nice blend of salsa dura and Cuban (it’s a bit of a mixed crowd. Florian takes over straight into his old skool salsa, the dancers are feeling are feelin it. Rich is next up and keeps the crowd swingin with a blend of rare and new stuff.. The dance area empties, Manolito’s on stage, he’s armed with a 15 piece band. They start to rip it up big time. They’ve got the crowd singing, swaying, dancing and jumping. These guy’s are imho are extremely and must be seen. Oscar Hernandez is in the wings, feeling the vibes and watching Manolito on keyboards. Manolito calls him over, next thing Oscars on Keyboards!!! Manolito watching and lovin it. Oscar after the initial shock starts to get his groove; the crowd are going nuts. Manolito takes over.
I get the call to backstage to interview Oscar(see it’s not all play folks) Slap and Rich are in tow. It’s too noisy, Manolito is still creating a storm on stage ,we agree to wait. So we’re backstage with the Spanish Harlem guys, we take a few pics, talk casually, you know regular stuff!! Turns out Slaps knows more about the ban members than their mothers. This guy’s musical knowledge is phenomenal.
So we’re hanging with Oscar, Joe Walsh, George Delgado, Willy Melendez chillin and chattin, Slap had achieved demi god status. Hello, Slap manages to find the hospitality drinks(they weren’t really missing) We felt out of place not drinking with the boys so why not!! We wondered on to the stage wings with our beers. Manolito must have thought we were SHO, he waved, we gave him the thumbs up and shouted nice job bro(naw I made that bit up but it was in out minds) They finish their set, they were really pumped. We were backstage; high five were flying all round, yes you got it, Slap Rich and I were included(gtfoh). They must have bad eyesight to assume Rich was a band member!!!!
So we’re in Lyon, at the business end, having taken a tour of Geneva. It’s at this point that Slap and I discover Ricky’s French is limited (he knows jack sh**) having trying to converse with a local in loud English with rabid hand movements. We discover that a taxi is required to find the Hotel Du Paris.
We locate our hotel and hit the sack for a couple of hours, we’re trashed. We’ve been travelling since 8:30 am, it’s now about 7pm.
We freshen up and contemplate our next move………a few beers. We’re quite chilled and relaxed now but still a bit tired. We’ve got a choice- go and see Oscar D’leon or sink more beers. Ricardo’s not due to play till about 11/12ish in a club so it’s a close call. It’s around 10pm now. We opt for Oscar. A short taxi ride and we’re there.
There are three days of open air music and bands, festivals don’t always have workshops etc. We arrive at Ile Barbe, the open air venue, security is mega tight. Because we missed the artist validation period we can’t get in. Ricky starts a lively debate with security in his best French!!! Slap and I take two paces back!!! Finally he calls Florian(check his interview)his DJ buddy. It’s handshakes, hugs and kisses all round (when in Rome) He gets us in.
We get our passes sorted out, we’re all called Ricardo!!! Slap and I are issued press passes. It’s a nice warm evening, the crowd number about 3000+ The whole event is well organised, no queuing at the bar, good facilities, numerous vendor stalls decent dance areas and free drinks courtesy of Flo.
The DJ is playing a nice mix of music; it appears to be Cuban orientated crowd in terms of dance styles. The are a few in liners sprinkled around keeping it nice and tight. An announcement is made Oscar is on.
The 16 piece band are on warming the crowd up with the backing singers, the crowd are lapping it up. Oscar leaps on wearing the tightest strides you could imagine. He was running up and down the stage, I feared for his condition. He must be late sixties at least. Anyway the band had lots of energy and drive; they belted out all the old favourites, the crowd joined in. You name it they played it. Live music give songs a different dimension. Songs you hated suddenly have a different feel; my hips were moving.
Ricky uttered a comment which Slap and I will never forget. I’ll spare his embarrassment and keep it a secret. But if you see him ask him what he said.!!!
At this point we’d met Aimeline(check video interview) We had to leave to get to Woodlands one of three festive after party venues. Florian ushered us over to the VIP area. They had a stretch limo waiting for us ( ok it was a people carrier) We were chauffeured to the club. We received a nice greeting from security, Ricky passed up the offer of testing his French again.
The club was empty, just a few teenagers loitering around. I thought we’d walked into a youth club. The club has three main sections, a chillout area with seating to the left, the main dance floor centrally placed. Then off to the right tucked away are a small number of small alcoves. This place used to proved adult entertainment!!!!! There was the odd strange instrument draped on the walls in this area. We looked at each other thinking ……..yes, say no more.
The club was still dead, Flo assured us people would come. Flo’s now on dexx banging out rare salsa vinyl grooves, stuff to kill for. The teenagers at this point were eating each other. Slowly the club starts to fill. Ricky at this point starts to get a point twitchy. It was either the prospect of playing to the dead, changing his music selection or he really had a twitch. I have a Dance with Aimeline, the kids give us strange looks.
Aimeline is now in the booth, she really looks the part. She plays the whole shabang, few salsa monga, bachata, meringue, and straight up salsa. The clubs filling up nicely. The party‘s in full swing. Aimeline’s done a tremendous job in warming the crowd up. The dancers have arrived.
Flo gives the bar staff a mild dressing down for charging us. Drinks are now courtesy of the management. The mojitos are tasting even sweeter now. It felt like the Carlsberg ad moment.
Ricky’s on dexx now ,cues up and his away. The crowd love it. Ricky starts to do his dad dancing in the booth then thinks better of it. Slap and I manage a few dances in between re-fuelling. It’s very rare an opportunity like this presents itself where good music is really appreciated. The circular dancers and on liners were having a good time. Forgot to mention the club is basement level, it’s like an oven, but what club isn’t.
It’s about 4ish, we’re beat and decide to call it a night. People are still arriving!!! Flo sorts out the Taxi. It’s off to bed for us.
I join Suzy and the kids for breakfast (Sophia and Amelia, fantastic kids) I pass on the full fry up option and settle for cereal. I’m treated like royalty at Ricky’s, I’ recommend it folks. Breakfast out the way we start to pack the car. With minutes to spare slap surfaces from hibernation looking quite refreshed.
We’re now on the road, the M1 on our way to the airport. I’m riding shotgun , ricky’s driving and slap’s in the back. Ricky’s blastin out some the tracks he’s gonna drop in Lyon, hey…….some real killer stuff bro. After twenty minutes slap starts to top up his beauty sleep(trust me he needs plenty) The weather changes for the worst…it’s lashing it down, Ricky starts to chunter about visibility and lorries. We decide to stop for coffee before we kill him!!!
The weather breaks and we’re on our way again. Rick’s still blastin out kick ass floor jams. There’s a strange smell in the car, Slaps catching wasps in his mouth but trousers cough at the same time!!! We’ve made good time and arrive at the airport. As usual there’s a massive queue at the checkout. Finally it’s our turn. Ricky and slap get referred to the customer service desk, they’re not booked on the flight. I also get referred. We’re puzzled!!!!!!!
Queuing again Ricky considers our situation, he asks for my flight details. “Guys” he said, “we’re in a serious situation, we’re at the wrong airport.” GTFOH is my reply. We’re in Luton our flights are from Stanstead. Ricky starts to panic; frantic phone calls to France are made. Slap and I remain cool and discuss our situation with the customer service consultant. We have a number of options (at this point Ricky’s apologising profusely, you could see the veins throbbing in his head) Firstly there are no flights to Lyon from Luton. Making Lyon on time was gonna be difficult. After a calm discussion and weighing up our options(including transfers from Poland and Estonia)we agree to fly to Geneva then get a train to Lyon!!!
During the course of the day Ricky had gradually relinquished all responsibility for our predicament and blamed me and Slap, how did he work that one out!!!!
Our flights on time, we land in Geneva. There’s little time between connections from the airport to the Geneva central train station. We just make it, however we need some food. No time to get Swiss Francs, we find a supermarket that will accept Ricky’s dodgy card.
We get the Lyon train and settle into our seats. It’s a 1hr 45 minute journey. I’m sat next to a young French woman. We strike up a conversation. Turns out she lives in Lausanne commutes to Geneva. She was on her way to Marseille to spend time with her parents and pick up her son. A nine hour journey…..wow. Found out she’s a Guicci marketing consultant, turned on a bit charm hoping for some freebies to no avail.
I took the opportunity to give her my forthright opinions of the French based on my experiences. We did reach some common ground, but she put me right on a few things. She asked why we were going to Lyon; I pointed to Ricky and said “ask him.” Ricky scratched his head and rolled his eyes.
Saw a sign for Lyon, we’re here folks.
