As
unpredictable as the seas surrounding the cost of his
native Brittany, on the West coast of France, Yann Tiersen’s
music is in turn gentle, warm, tempestuous or exuberant.
Equally, there is much of his homeland in his appearance.
The wild hair framing his sharp face, the two earrings
on the left ear and the determination planted deep in
his piercing eyes.
Tiersen
became well known in France long before the soundtrack
for Amelie From Montmartre made him a household name
abroad. Born
in the harbor city of Brest in 1970, Tiersen grew up
further inland in Rennes, where he studied classical
piano, violin and direction of orchestra. He then turned
to rock for while, before focusing on writing musical
pieces for the theatre and short films. His first album,
La Valse Des Monstres, released in 1995, put him in
the heart of the neo-realist movement, combining the
Gallic tradition of exposing raw emotions in songs the
way Edith Piaf of Jacques Brel had done in the past
with the elaborate poetry of Jim Morrison or Lou Reed.
A talented multi-instrumentist, Tiersen dressed his
compositions in sumptuous drapes of pianos and accordions,
xylophones and violins, bringing eastern European and
Gaelic influences together in a rich and unique sound
explosion.
Two
other albums followed before his named was attached
to the Oscars nominated Amélie From Montmatre,
a movie by Jean Pierre Jeunet. Telling the story of
Amelie Poulain, a young Parisian girl who, after living
a sheltered life as a child, discovers that she can
make people happy, and find love in the process, the
film was a huge hit in France, and became an instant
success abroad, bringing Tiersen’s music to the
attention of a much wider audience.
Ahead of
the release of his fourth album, L’Absente, in
the UK, almost a year after it was released in France,
Yann Tiersen offered an informal performance in London’s
Bush Hall. The elegant venue, bearing ornate ceilings
from which hang beautiful chandeliers was the perfect
stage for his intimate music. The place was given a
French café touch for a night, with big round
tables curling around the stage, on which a wide range
of instruments, from a baby grand piano to a violin
and a viola, a couple of accordions and a drum kit were
waiting for there moment.
Twenty minutes
behind schedule, Tiersen walked on stage, alone, and
sat at the piano. After a few minutes, whilst still
playing, he grabbed the accordion left on the side of
his sit, cautiously placed the instrument on his laps
and started crafting a gentle melody on one hand, accompanying
himself on the piano with the other, while Natasha Régnier,
on singing duties, holding her hands together to contain
her nerves, placed herself behind the mic. At first
frail, the voice soon grew stronger, carrying ebbs and
flows of intense emotions, her eyes hanging to every
signs of support from the audience.
With
the guitarist/drummer joining them, the formation was
then complete. Tiersen’s two companions sometimes
disappeared to leave him alone on stage to perform some
of his recent pieces on the violin and viola. Highlights
of the evening included the delicate renditions of La
Parade and Le Méridien, originally interpreted
by Lisa Germano on L’Absente and here given a
more ethereal twist by Natasha, the enchanting A Quai
and the beautiful J’Y Suis Jamais Allé
played by Tiersen on a toy piano.
With
a stunning performance, sometimes recalling the poetry
of Serge Gainsbourg, Yann Tiersen and his band have
brought a part of France on the English shore, and that
night was definitely his.
Thank
you to Wyndham.
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