The concept of Bidochons owes much to the immonde constructions of the pompidolienne era... These hen cages where one piles up the proletariats - as the poor birds raised in batteries, undoubtedly for better plucking. I had just decided to finish some with my career with “Vampires (two albums, two singles and a small sampling of concerts) to play good tunes instead of composing bad ones.
Thus, I imagined that sons of caretakers listening by the conduit of the garbage chute to the punk music coming from the fiftieth floor transformed EMI by Il aime l'ail (He Likes Garlic) or God save the Queen by Gode save the gouines (Gode save the dykes), etc. I just had to name this new group... I thus thought of the “faux frères Ramones (fake Ramones brothers) - another mythical punk group - and imagined sticking a quite French surname to the prefix of the group which I had chosen to parody (The Sex Pistols). I can’t remember if other names came to mind or if I immediately thought of using the moniker of the famous comic book heroes born of the imagination of the talented Christian Binet...
And so it came that we found ourselves baptized Sex Bidochons ! Lastly, instead of being Johnny Bidochons, Sid Bidochons, etc. I renamed (all were the former members of the group the Vampires) Bernt Kadaverik (guitar): Steve Jaune (yellow in English) (for Steve Jones), Ulrich Ausweis (bass) Sid Vicelard (pervert in English) (for Sid Vicious), Karim Kouskous: Paul Cuistot (chef in English) (for Paul Cook), and your servant, the count Wolf: Johnny Ripou (repost in English) (for Johnny Rotten)!
After three or four rehearsals, during which we laughed much and worked little, we found ourselves at the famous studio WW to record in eight days the first Bidochons album (we worked during the night, sharing the studio with “Berurier Noir” who were preparing their album, Abracadaboum, I believe...). We were broke and to be able to record in this 24-track studio, we had to negotiate with the owners of the place who gave us a deal if we would use only 16 tracks! Thus, the sound engineer, Mike Wanker (who later became the Bidochons’ second drummer), closed tracks 17 to 24 during the recording!
For the cover, I used some old numbers of Parisien Libéré to parody the famous design of Jamie Reid and Helen Wellington-Lloyd.
The distribution of the first pressing was entrusted to a small label (disappeared today) and as I wanted to add a small treat to this pressing (a real pair of cotton kangaroo underwear), all the employees of this small company tried them on at some point during a week of printed underwear madness. Sex Bidochons with cardboard covers! In a few days, all the discs were sold!
We were asked to prepare the CD version (so rare at the time – so we were super proud to hear our master with super technology!). Thus we recorded two new titles (a compact disc version should have new titles): The great rock'n'roll roll swindle and Lucille by Little Richard (in homage to the greatest singer in the history of rock'n'roll).
The first journalists to have spoken about Sex Bidochons are historically Francis Zegut and Alain Gardinier (the first wore the famous tee-shirt "on s'en bat les couilles (we couldn’t give a shit)" on the midday show of television network Canal+, and the second presented the album on the broadcast of Philippe Gildas’ "Nulle part Ailleurs (Nowhere Else)"). It is thus a little their fault if we believed ourselves obliged to persevere!
We had decided that nobody would know who we were. We would be a kind of ghost group! However, we found ourselves in the magic attic window for our first television appearance (the show Decibel on FR3) a few minutes to cut sausage (for Olida in the Sun) and to act like idiots under the spotlights handled nonchalantly by some unionized light person... It was the beginning of the adventure... We did not know yet that our versions were going to be found on all the radios, that we would be placed next to some of the most old-fashioned artists of French variety on the television programs whose hosts we took pleasure in not watching... We had just taken our first steps in show business... It doesn’t stink so badly if you step in it with your left foot...
This re-edition includes some very rare new titles (like Le monde à l'envers (The World Upside Down) or Je suce (I Suck)) recorded at the time of the Vampires with the same line up. So you lucky devils, it is a bit like we let you rifle through our closets. Obviously, they are always a little dusty and often full of cobwebs, but I am persuaded that you will be lenient (Not to flatter you too much, but you are the best audience on the planet...). This disc did not have the same production as the albums that followed, but remember that our wallets were as flat as the Jane Birkin’s bra! This often explains that, and like my baker says it to his wife... Who cares if your bosom is small, oh my beloved, we are closer to the heart when the chest is flat!
To follow... Titi Wolf (John Lenine)
After the surprising success of the first album (Sex Bidochons), in spite of its confidential release, we decided to have a bit of fun with Nanard, my ever-present accomplice - a right-hander who plays the guitar left handed. That is, when he doesn’t forget his instrument in the subway or on the bench of a bar. Nanard (who, for posterity will be known as Kikif Ricard) had learned how to play his six-string (including one or two always a bit out of tune) by listening to the solos of Mick Taylor (talented soloist of Jagger’s band).
Between two smokes and a few glasses of Italian rosé, our hero Nanard could nail the killer riffs of Keith Richard on his hand made Jacobacci (famous Corsican luthiers). We recorded the demo of only one single title to shop to the record labels. Honky Tonk Woman became Honky Tonk Ginette! Along the way, we had a changed the line up of the group a bit as the Sex Bidochons’ drummer (Karim Kouskous) and bassist Ulrich Ausweis (more known to his family under the name Denis Ferré) had decided to something else with his life than play the fool in a decidedly un-serious group like The Bidochons - a group that changes its name as often as its members - as for this second opus, we decided to christen ourselves The Rolling Bidochons!
Replacing with the drummer/sound engineer who had recorded the first disc (Mike Wanker), we were also joined by a pal bass player whose vocals we had already used in the Sex Bidochons chorus (he would become Bill Pourquoimec). The gang of Bidochons was again reformed (even "reformed" since we noted that all its members were infamous P4 who would never serve under the French colors!) and ready to enter the history of the rock'n'roll!
All the labels wanted to release the disc (Sony held the rope but the CEO at the time ultimately refused, then Lucas Michillo de Justin' - who later worked for the rappers of IAM- kept us waiting several hours with the promise of a super contract), but it was finally an independent label which would license the album under the high patronage of Fnac Music (former French record label belonging to a huge insurances group) requiring that its logo not be put on the cover, because, this group was definitely not serious!
In the precipitation, the decision makers of this astonishing label asked us to furnish the tapes as of the end of the summer, in order to release the disc for Christmas... But Santa Claus came down the chimney and forgot to put the CD in our stockings, because these record professionals had decided not to market it!
We sent a former controller for the French national rail company – SNCF - (who became our manager for seventeen days) to recover the tapes because we did not have the heart to do it and moreover, the subway line was not direct and we would have had to make two transfers!
In the corridors of Fnac Music, Loulou (who had put away punching machine for a year’s sabbatical at the expense of the taxpayer) crossed paths with the company’s new sales manager and slipped him a small demo, and a test pressing of the disc to listen to. The new boss (Gerard Lefondeur, bless him, because his decision was going to force a change in attitude of our respective bankers) fell under the charm of our disc and decided to release it (though, they nevertheless chose to censure the jacket a bit and the faces of LePen and Khomeini on the cover of our disc Sales Gueules (Dirty Faces), - were respectively replaced by those of Stalin and the head of pig!).
The disc was released at the beginning July. As of September, posters of Rolling Bidochons decorated the staircases of our label, and newly proud to be (miracles of the show business!). All the radios played Des sous pour habiter St Cloud (Some Money to live St. Cloud) or Roger... We were frightened a little by this success and the obligations it created... We had not envisaged selling discs or playing live... Nonetheless, as we are almost as generous as Mother Theresa and the Father Pierre, we did not decline a free concert at the Palais des Sports (Sports Palace) of Besancon for Telethon (at the sides of Jean-Louis Aubert, Phil Manzanera, etc.)!
As Yves Bigot was presenting us, we left the arms of Morphée... Bill Pourquoimec - who was in a light slumber, like the brain of a miss awaking before everyone and tambourining at the doors of our respective hotel rooms... Five tiny minutes after we were awakened (we were to be on so late, the program worked like a sleeping pill, pushing us all to slumber), we found ourselves propelled under the spotlights of the Palais des Sports... It is one of the most embarrassing images of the Bidochons’ career, and I will bury in my garden anyone who shows up with the videocassette of this performance under their arm... As the television viewers surly slept almost as deeply as us when this concert was broadcast, my garden does not yet resemble that of terrible a serial killer... But be careful, there is still place!
Caught up by real show business, we thus found ourselves inside the magic circle, crossing paths with all those pop celebrities who are the joy of the hit parades and orthodontists. Sort of punks for pop people and pop musicians. For the punks, we would not stop suffering... Some found us funny but dangerously subversive, while others thought we were just studio sharks who sold out!
Our first true stage performance (at the Palais des Sports, we were still just zombies), we owe to Didier Veillaut, an important man in the history of music in France, as it is he who opened the mythical place on rue Rory Gallagher, Le Plan! The man succeeds in persuading us to go on stage after the Telethon episode (which was not a small matter) and we thus found ourselves one New Year’s Eve in front of a room packed with our fans who knew my words by heart!
We didn’t even know we had fans! We could have let it go to our, but our advanced age (average 25 years) helped us to rise above this syndrome, so widespread in this business.
Darling of the play-lists and having become the fun group of the moment, we submissively accepted our fate as Bidochons (even if we each thought of doing other things with other groups). We found ourselves in all the radio (France Inter, RTL, Europe 1, etc.) and television studios - even by Jacques Martin, who invited us but ultimately censured our performance... even though our “roundish” dancers - 285 pounds on the average – had come to help us for the occasion. We brought the house down at the “Théâtre de l'Empire”.
Boosted by our success, we had become true Bidochons! The funny simpletons come from God knows where, undoubtedly to go nowhere. Certain journalists were moved to ask if we had real jobs, while others questioned how we had procured the Stones’ master tapes to add our voices!
This new edition of our second opus includes the entirety of the titles we recorded for this album (including Honky Tonk Ginette), as well as two previously unreleased recordings (the live version of Roger and a remake of Chuck Berry which we then played regularly on stage and which we played between two doors at a session at Studio Marcadet). We so much enjoyed the recording of the album, and beating the drummer so many times at foosball (we spent as much time playing foosball as playing music) that I believe I speak for everyone in saying that we have nothing but excellent memories of this period... The worry-free album... We decided to record all the goofiness that passed through our heads, never suspecting that they would one day make it to the radio!
The ideal seemingly attained, we were quite simply naively happy... Laughing till it hurt...undoubtedly hurrying to laugh today for fear of having to cry tomorrow...
TO FOLLOW... Titi Wolf (John Lenine)
John Lennon recounted one day how he thought of being more important than Jesus, so much he felt transported by his fans (at the time of Beatlemania). We also (modestly), in the months which followed the release of the album The Rolling Bidochons Sales Gueules, had the feeling of almost being able to walk on water... We were never mistaken for the Messiah (oh no no!) but a kind of baraka of grace surrounded our actions! We could have done about anything. Everyone would undoubtedly have found it brilliant!
Then, as devoted followers of the good Marquis de Sade, we decided to do what was necessary to be whipped by the press and our fans... To attack the greatest monument in the history of modern music: The Beatles!
M’lady, would you have imagined that 4 funny « punks » would have enough cahones to put in their worn jewel cases the precious stones carved by the McCartney-Lennon duo, the must of the must of pop jewelry! Well believe it... we really were so ballsy confidence (or the innocence that one only finds in children and the mentally handicapped) to think of attacking this monumental structure!
As usual, we decided to demo one title and made a first recording of Let it Be revisited in Les p'tites bites (Little Dicks) (I recounted, one day on the mic of RTL, that our drummer had inspired this lyric - a version, by the way, totally false, as I do not even know the size of his poor penis - which irritated him as much as if an old whore had given him a shameful disease!). Knowing our poor technical abilities and knowing that, in addition, it was out of question to call upon studio sharks, we were sure to need several weeks in the studio to be able to offer a listenable version to the public.
We set out hunting a studio and it was the good Remy Lemoal, owner of the of Francis Laï Editions (Editions 23) who generously offered to let us use the superb 32 track studio he had just acquired, to record our new album! The label that had marketed the album Sales Gueules now rolled out the red carpet to us after having treated us with as much condescension as a Saudi emir treats his Pakistani servant boys.
In the shade, whirled these hairdressers who, while shaving us for free, explained that we were really more beautiful and intelligent than average and that moreover, we were going to become rich!
To the surprise of many personalities in the trade, we decided to sign an artist contract with Marc Lumbroso (discoverer of Goldman, etc) who had just created his label, and surveyed, with the care of a father for his daughter, the destiny Vanessa Paradis. The scandalmongers sometimes say that we signed at this company to wedge pretty Vanessa in a corner. But if we came across and even greeted well the little doll of French pop in the corridors of our new label, we knew to contain ourselves and remain the gentlemen who we finally never ceased being!
The recording of the album was going to be rather painful and very technical (too much for us) and we each were living some small personal problems (even - especially - clowns have the right to cry in private in order to continue to making the public laugh) and considered that we were not far from sinking body and soul! Mike Wanker (drummer and sound engineer) rolled up his sleeves and worked like a trooper to overcome all our problems of installation and musical limits... For my part, I delivered bit by bit the texts which I sometimes finished during the snack break, only a few minutes before going in front of a microphone to deliver them!
We became also completely consumed in Mac-ma (Macintosh version of PAC-MAN) we played of so many rounds while Mike Wanker listened, for hours to the sound coming from a cymbal or the reverb of the kick drum!
For the first time, we had important means to make an album and we rained bills on the restaurants near the studio or our pals who came to do a small backup vocal or a piano part. The best mixes finally in the can, we dragged our executive producer into the studio so that he could listen to the final result. He found it so bad that it asked us, a few days later, if we wanted to buy back our tape! It was reassuring just before facing the media!
Nevertheless, the disc had been barely marketed by the Pygmalion of Mrs. Johnny Depp, when the vultures in Hermines necklaces appeared above! Yoko Ono, the two Lennon sons and Paul McCartney obviously less cool that Keith Richard and Mick Jagger, reclaimed a good million francs ($187,500 US), heavy with punitive damages, to have parodied their titles - we, who had listened religiously to these superb songs in order to analyze them, to understand them, to impregnate ourselves and then to reproduce them! We found ourselves face to face with those for whom we feel more and more in artistic osmosis) - in a court! But the men of law would rule in our favor (moreover, only the publisher those with composers’ rights had believed good to try to make us bite dust. The Beatles’ record label, in the person of the head of legal service - Pierre Darmon - refused to shout with the pack. Even the animator Christian Binet, father of Robert and Raymonde Bidochon - also contacted by our adversaries - refused to make common cause with the temple merchants against your humble servants, who naively pay guilty homage (in their way) to the divinities of the rock'n'roll Pantheon!
The proceeding was turned against its authors and gave an unhoped-for exposure to our album... On the day that we organized a bed-in on Malesherbes Boulevard (in front of the our adversary’s buildings), TV from around the world (even the Japanese NHK!) filmed us on the mattress we had installed by Jerome Chung (our friendly chief of products at the time, who helped us a lot in this mess) and his team, before chaining ourselves together, under the amused glances of the passers by, of agents of the RG (police) and a handful of sympathizers come to support our cause with cries of: Make humor, not war, A pastiche or nothing!. Avenging slogans which I had concocted in urgency, spending a few moments (not too long a time) in the skin of Jean-Paul Sartre (over time, strabismus causes a good headache!). Our titles could thus triumph over all radios and T.V and we made a new solo circuit with Pas d'papier water, Les p'tites bites, etc.
Our two-bit suits made by the mother-in-law of our guitarist Nanard (Kikif Ricard) were plastered across all the stages in France (playing for example with a not-hidden pleasure of playing for tens of thousands of large brains and future elites at the enormous students’ marathon concerts of the ESSEC, HEC, etc).
To the general surprise of the group members, the press also reserved a super welcome with to disc, and even the Beatles fans! Again we walked on water! After that, we could die happy (or almost)... We bathed in full happiness or in full pleasure because if happiness is the pleasure of wise, pleasure is the happiness of fools... We were really wackos to have had the madness to tickle under the armpits of several superstars of music history... Even if it was only to tear a few grins from them, undoubtedly increasingly rare deep within their mansions or in their cellars where the safes seem to have replaced the musical instruments that they formerly stored there...
TO FOLLOW... Titi Wolf (John Lenine)
With three albums (Sex Bidochons, Rolling Bidochons, 4 Beadochons dans le vent) under our belt, and several hundred thousand in sales, we were recognized by a large audience in spite of the obligatory name changes on each successive cover (even if, for us, we obviously stayed the “Rolling Bidochons”).
We spent the better part of our weekends on the road playing the stages of France (rumor would give us concerts in England, Switzerland and even in Japan – where our second album sold very well, and where I go quite frequently, but for record projects other than the Bidochons – but we never played outside of France except for Belgium… at least ten times, cause those French Fry eatin’ Belgians are a super audience!)
From an approximate group who played a bit off-key, capitalizing on their energy and its comic effects, we became a real, stage-worn “rock band” We had so little time to even think about the studio (perfect for us who made more records than rehearsals!) So we thought it would be good to do a sort of progress report Thus, was born "Le très meilleur des Bidochons The Very Best of The Bidochons)," a compilation disc featuring the hit tunes from our three previous albums, in a package that has become cult today – a real box of camembert cheese.
I had asked the designer working on this cover (Jean-Paul Slzachetka) to parody the look of “President” brand camembert, but he had totally pumped the design of Besnier, and I just changed the usual comments which became "1 % matière grasse, 99 % matière grise (1% fat, 99% grey matter)" and "mixé à la louche (shadily mixed)".
If it’s only calcium, the cheese merchants were going to quickly prove that they lacked humor…after having intervened to stop our publicity campaign on France 2 television they sued us for half a million francs ($93,750 US) for having parodied the box of their industrial cheese! We invoked the fact that to our knowledge, the album aisles are not refrigerated, and a camembert costs about five times less than a disc, but the judges gave us a whack behind the ears, and decided to “symbolically” order us to pay seventy-five thousand francs ($14,000 US) to the multi-national Besnier…It was thus that I decided with my friends and our fans to never again eat that brand of camembert against that sum. Today still, I refuse to consume those products, factory produced like automobile carburators, and prefer to enjoy cheeses that I find decidedly more flavorful. The promotion of this compilation would leave us very litle time. We travelled through all of France for concerts and showcase/ free countryside buffets, transforming the amphitheaters of Fnac and Virgin into concert halls, where at the end we would snack on sausages and wine (Californian) and discuss with a few audience members who would stop by to chat.
This compilation includes a quickly recorded title: "Crêperie,” (parody of “Rape Me,” by Nirvana) that we had thrown away by spite. At the mastering, I begged one of the kingq of record making (Jean-Pierre Chalbos, the magician of the studio “La Source) to help us out (meanwhile we did a little facelift on the piece with a new mix at Marcadet). The result was clearly effective; because the days falling the release of this “best of” we were surprised to see the public shouting “Crêperie, crêperie” after each song we sang at the showcases…
We had to re-learn it, as over time; we had forgotten just about every note of the anguished Kurt Cobain! We also added the ritual of the crepe launching (I was to flip crepes at the time at each song break, aiming at the drummer – but had strict orders to avoid sending egg and cream "UFOS" at his bright new cymbals). All that remained was to record a new album!
This time, I didn’t really have an idea what to propose! The box with ideas, hidden too well in my subcconscience, was empty! We repeated titles of The Who, Queen, Beach Boys and other heavy metal hits...projects that died almost immediately after being born. What could we do after The Beatles? We wanted to still surprise the public, but that became difficult!
Thus one fine day, rolling at a sharp pace on Arago Boulevard (right in front of the prison), the radio played the title "Ça, c'est vraiment toi (That is Really You)," by one of the greatest French groups (Telephone). But, I heard... "Sale c'est vraiment toi (You are Really Dirty)... and for "ça ce sent que c'est toi (It Feels Like It’s You)"… I imagined "que ça sent sous tes bras (How You Stink Under Your Arms)"… Bingo, we could hit a mark nobody could predict: to parody a French group.
With a few calls to the drummer and the guitarists, we found ourselves in the studio to rehearse the Telephone tunes – which reminded us so much of the Stones!
Very (too) quickly we took over the Studio Marcadet (which had become our favorite place to record and hang out), to record our famous 14 titles (by superstition, we always tried to work on at least 14 titles per disc). As it was summertime, the flames of the barbeque stationed at the back of the garden caressed more than a few merguez sausages. Walter (Yoko Kono for close friends) owner of the nice dog (Bootsy) that followed us everywhere - even on stage - took his guitar and transformed Jean-Louis Aubert’s "New York avec toi (New York with You)" of into a kind of java tournery. That gave me the idea of the lyric about the “human festival” and of these old suburbs around the studio. The song became "Bondy avec toi (Bondy with You)". It was undoubtedly the most amusing title of our fourth opus, and the one which gave us the most pleasure (we even brought in an ace of the accordion - Daniel Collin).
Christophe Dubois – surfer, drummer, and sound engineer was at the board for the recordings on this album, which were a bit painful, as intragroup relations weren’t terrific…Walter was busy practing toung-twisting in his girlfriend’s mouth, while Nanard discovered the joys of fatherhood ant I was surfing between two calls while finishing my lyrics that I had not yet begun! For the cover, we once again chose the lens of our friend Christophe Mourthé (who, before us, immortalised Mylène Farmer, Renaud, etc., and above all, some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe) the master of light – to whom we regularly entrusted the duty of capturing our portrait – succeeded in getting us to strip for a memorable session where we finally could compare anatomies. I can state by observation that mine was decidedly the biggest! The disc, baptised "Cache ton machin (Hide Your Thing)” was presented with two collector’s edition covers…One with Nanard (left handed guitarest) and one with Walter (right-handed guitarist).
After only a few weeks on the market, harassed by the head of an import Dutch record label, who wanted to promote the record in a market that would make Michael Jackson pale (if that is still possible), the record was taken off the shelves.
The fourth disc from the Rolling Bidochons will remain thus, a mystery for the better part of our fans, who could not get it, and often didn’t even know of its existance. This new edition will finally allow the rebirth from its ashes with a few unreleased titles: the hard version of “Avale (Swallow)” become “Anal, with the devilishly sexy backing vocals of Sophie C (formerly Sophie B) and the (smelly) little gem from the guitarist and bassist of the Bidochons who, while we had our backs turned, took advantage to improvise a round worthy of kindergartens everywhere, and the one and only Rolling Bidochons tune that I didn’t write (and quite proudly so!) “Nanar&Nanor.”
This disc, which was supposed to be only one episode in the career of the Rolling Bidochons has remained for a long time, the last. We decided to retire just one year after its nearly-aborted release. But I really didn’t want to finish on that note (as Jean Babin said after shooting "L'année sainte (The Holy Year)” which was, unhappily, his last film). History would, thus perpetuate with a single, “Bidochons contre Gobzylla (Bidochons against Gobzylla)” and above all the long not-awaited new album (the serine one), almost six years after the Bidophone - Disco Bidochons…But that’s another story, in which you can easily participate, for as Alexander Dumas would say, “It is permitted to rape history on the condition that you make a baby !”
To Follow Titi WOLF (John Lenine)
I remember seeing a group whose name I dare not mention, (and yet who enthralled my ears when I was just a pre-pubescent) liquify before my eyes, after another of their countless reformations…These guys were fat, with triumphant bellies, bags under their eyes and toupees on their heads! I promised, swore, crossed my heart, hope-to-die, stick-a-needle-in-my-eye, that you wouldn’t catch me there. After all these Bidochons albums and ten years of good and loyal service, I decided to hang it up and not commit the same error as this group that had become pathetic or boxers that find themselves over 40 and still in the ring, only to take a monumental beating by youngsters with long teeth and sharp fists. For seven years I continued to tell people that the Rolling Bidochons were now in a retirement home.
The fourth Bidochons album remained a mystery (see Volume 4 inside the disc booklet for “Cache ton machin”) and its recording had been a bit painful…We were all too busy with our respective lives and we didn’t really want to see each other every day. After that, I made a little try alone, organizing the recording of a single called “Bidochons contre Gobzylla (Bidochons against Gobzylla),” on which my accomplices had taken part, only at a distance but that had done nothing but amplify the misunderstandings.
After lying on a couch to peel back the recesses of my brain, my unpleasant thoughts left place for some good memories of those magic moments during which we constituted an almost ideal family... A little unordinary - the family... But family nevertheless!
Without really thinking about it, I was letting the idea of a new Bidochons album ripen. A disc that the industry of the same name and a few always loyal fans were incessantly reclaiming. Dandy to the tip of the toes, I swept out these inept ideas with the shake of a hand indicating I wasn’t one of those old artists who stays stuck in their past like an aging odometer on a stolen moped. Having had our ration of big studios and mixing consoles that resembeled aircraft carriers viewed from above, I didn’t feel like being stuck again for several months in an over air-conditioned atmosphere of a recording studio, eating pizzas that are already cold by the time they’re delivered, between cutting vocals and knocking heads with our former drummer. Once the idea was finally accepted that we were going to make a last Rolling bidochons album, we then decided to think differently, to record with “ultra-modern” methods! In other words, digital, and on portable hard drive! Our album would thus be mixed on Chris Dubois’ portable PC in French hotels at Navarre or other trains bringing him home after the concerts on the Calogero tour. This idea so seduced me that I worked non stop on a series of titles for this concept album, which was perhaps destined to play where I would never set foot – discotechs!
My spirit of contradiction was finally satisfied and I forgot my promises and those images of old boxers or artists on the return.
Another stroke of luck for us was that it seemed that goofing around with the Bidochons keeps you young. None of us had lost a single hair, and our waistlines had stayed a reasonable size. We didn’t yet look like those old idiots that we fatally became the day that we had children and/or our menus and interiors had become richer.
At the instigation of Bobby Lapointe’s son, we would even find ourselves on stage for the time to shoot an historic DVD! All that remaind was to digest the best disco hits (in any case, those which we liked to listen to, as we could never remake a song that didn’t make us vibrate at least a little bit).
I found myself selecting titles from among the dozens auditioned. Me, who in the height of the punk period, around fifteen years old, had written a short song which said, among other things "musique disco… musique de veaux ! (disco music…baby cow music)"…My guardian angel would have to roll up his wings and get to work to help me in this task! Like Dumas’ musketeers, twenty years later, I started to appreciate the discoidal kick drum beat and stressed refrains (never more than three or four sentences in a disco music hit!) I’d have to make due. Me, who likes to stew you in little stories like in the day of the realist songs! I decided, thus that the red line (as we said with Guy Lux) of this new surprise disc would be…love stories…but a bit particular these little stories, ones that you only come across in my brain which has been perverted by readings, non-approved by the clergy nor the Parisien establishment. Besides, each title should be able to be played and replayed in clubs a bit like other shock slogans of demonstrations.
After recording the vocals in the most improbable locations like our new drummer’s sister’s bedroom (who, unhappily, was not there); the laundry room of a little house in the suburbs, the back-court of a weak little studioinstalled in the basement of a big Parisien movie theater; and even our buddy Fabrice’s comfy little Studio Boulogne. (Fabrice always had his nose in the manual of the latest effect he had purchased on credit). For the time of of a couple male backing vocal sessions (Where Nanard, our guitar hero, proved to us all that 10 years later, he could still sing as poorly as before); and female (for the first time we called in guest stars for the brass and female vocals); and a few uncontrollable laughter attacks, we rediscovered the magic of the Bidochons I hope we succeed in sharing with you by listening to this disc which has only one objective: to reveal to you that we are still as uncontrollable as yesterday, and I hope a lot less than tomorrow!
May the purists excuse our digressions…
I confess that we had no choice but to put a bit of guitar on certain tunes, and to revise others without prudence…But that is also the magic of the Bidochons…we don’t know what we’re doing, and we don’t want to know…Certain chefs follow the recipe to the letter, measuring the flour by the gram and counting the drops of oil.
We reach into the jar and throw entire handsfull of the ingredients into a more or less rusty wok…Our meals, thus have nothing in common with the “nouvelle cuisine (new cooking)” imposed by marketing standards and that which certain people judge in food taste.
A bit like if you had always been a part of the familym without ever changing the tablecloth or setting the table with the fine silverware, we, thus invite you to our table, as we do with real friends…Hoping that you will share a good moment with us, without pomp or stuffiness, for as Aristotle wrote, “The sacred knots of real friendship form more easily under the humble roof of a shepherd’s cabin than in the palace of a king…” This opus is undoubtedly the last. After that, we will surly be too old, fat, and stupid to be faithful to our ideals…Take advantage. Hurry to laugh like spoiled kids to our (your) bad taste, to our (your) idleness…Listen in on our baroque discourse, in our new jargon evoking the prolitariat humor, while playing with phrases, while playing with words, which from a term so obscure, makes sense of all the stupid ones!
To Follow Titi Wolf (John Lenine)