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#77

Taraf de Haidouks

Jean Baptiste and I were in the living room, both with our headphones on. At the very same moment, we looked up and at each other, wide-eyed, with the same surprised and blissful smile. We both heard the same thing: a violin swoop, one among many, but stronger than the others, even more acrobatic. At the same moment, we both felt giddy. It lasted only a split second, but what a split second…

#77.1 – PART 1

Réal : Vincent Moon

Shot in Paris, November 2007

Some of the members from Taraf de Haidouks were in the bedroom, playing, just like they had played earlier in the street, in the stairs, in the hall; just like they would play while going downstairs, on the way to the truck, or in the truck; how they played all the time, all the time, only stopping when we asked them to or to when they had to light a cigarette. (They only stopped to light up, though–once the cigarette was in their mouth, it did not prevent them from starting to play the violin again, to resume with renewed vigor.)

This is it: a story of cigarettes dangling from their lips and never-ending music, of songs merging with each other, of whirls. A music played just like we would scratch our ear, or button up our overcoat–played while doing something else. They smile to the truck driver, they look at some gadget on a stand, all while chatting, looking back, carrying the upright bass with one hand and continuing to play with the other.

#77.2 – PART 2

Réal : Vincent Moon

Shot in Paris, November 2007

This was a heady experience. One of the greatest Balkan bands. Once we left, they kept on smoking and playing.