Fete de la Musique

When they say they're having a party in the streets of Dijon, they actually mean it! One Saturday night in June, and the first day of Official Summer, Dijon unpacked it's mini stages, plugged in its amps and presented the public with a musical display that rivalled the Big Day Out (music festival that tours around Australia and New Zealand in January every year).

On every street corner, and even in between, bands of all persuasions strummed, bashed and harmonised their way into the night. Some bands were so close to the next band that they clashed (maybe that was the desired effect!). There was traditional French accordion music with audience participation. There were your usual covers rock bands who really should have stayed in their garage. There was a very brave boy who sang Red Hot Chilli Peppers songs with a French accent and an acoustic guitar-playing friend. There was a thrash, crash, hard rock, heavy metal band whose lead singer burst into a fascinating opera voice. There was a Celtic dancing corner in a courtyard of the Palais des Ducs, where passers-by could do a bit of a square dance before heading to the electronic dance stage around the corner where the DJ played trance, stance, dance music.

The night was great. The day leading up to it was not so. We had a timetable printed out from the website of the local paper and had made a meeting time of 4pm with a friend from Michael's lab at Place Darcy, near the Dijon version of the Arc de Triumph. The music started at 3pm the timetable said. Uh-huh. At 6pm we sat down at a cafe and ordered Monacos (shandy with grenadine) and pondered whether we had the right day. We'd seen endless stages setting up and bands tuning (start a song then stop - sound check. Start the same song again then stop - sound check.), but no real action. At 8pm we sat down at our favourite Irish Pub (one of two in Dijon) and had a beer (very unFrench). What to do? Should we stay and watch this band that's setting up inside their truck and that keeps playing the same backing track while they warm up their instruments (Irish flute, banjo, and other strumming guitar like things that probably had strange names)? Or should we head off home and give up on the old music festival?

Well, to cut to the chase (phew!), we didn't give in. We finally worked out that the light probably had a lot to do with the fact that everything started late: the entertainment started about 8.30pm and was still going strong when we started the forty minute walk home to the fac at 1.30am. We kind of breathed easy thinking that we weren't going home to our future flat since it was right above those two bands competing for loudness and crowdness. The walk home was a bit cool and we now know why all those girls walk around town with cardigans tied around their waists in the middle of summer- they don't plan on coming home for dinner!