Journal: Vive la France

I arrived in Paris yesterday afternoon from London - I got a room at Le Meridian, where my old friend Jeffery Smith was singing with Claude Bolling's band. They were fabulous! Jeffery sounded great, and seems totally in his element. He's quite the celeb here, strangers stop him on the street. Audiences here are very different: they actually shut up and listen instead of getting drunk and yakking. Imagine! It was great to hear a big band again. There's just nothing like the sheer cojones of a wall o'horns.

Today we met up with Olivier and Stephane and checked out the local sights. It wasn't until Notre Dame that I realized it was Easter Sunday. It was packed - standing room only - and quite a shock after the austere churches of England.

It was very dark, for one thing. The crystal chandeliers were barely glowing, everything else was candlelight. I actually saw a woman throw herself upon an altar and huddle there, sobbing among the votives... no, this was definitely not England. The priests and the altar boys pushed through the murmuring crowd swinging censers (I love your drag hon, but your purse is on fire!), and there were soft, not particularly sweet organ chords in the background. The air was so thick with incense and body heat it was hard to breathe.

Then suddenly it was over. The huge carved doors of the church swung open, filling the space with blind, hazy light. people poured out into the square, pigeons flapping everywhere, and the organist let loose with this truly bent modern stuff - it was dissonant, and fucking loud! Vive la France.