A few years ago Xavier, the singer, saved a Take Away Show by singing louder and more sensibly than a stoned Kevin Barnes, in the midst of a crowd just emptying out of Bataclan. It was enormous chaos, a moment of joyous anarchy that Xavier tapped into musically. We promised that we would meet one day to film him and his band.
We had to wait through a couple of albums, long tours, several jolts (the biggest being the departure of a major figure in the band), before we could keep our engagement. Until finally, three years later. Like a family, calm. Tahiti 80 in its entirety.
We were curious to see what a film with them would offer, out of the studio, off the stage, the band presiding over the electronic arrangement of the heavy beat. They brought it with their deadliest weapon: a pad that made “pff” and “boing” sounds, a pad that automatically made your head keep time. We started in an improbably store, stuffed with faded CD and DVD boxes, but this didn’t make it into the video (director’s note: trust me, I would have loved to show you). Then next door to the Tiffin, then over to Motel, the refuge of the band and of the indie boys and girls of the east as well of as the band.
Tahiti 80’s music has always kept an eye on soul, discreetly borrowing from the warmth and electricity of older black music. We’ll leave you here to discover this inflection, intimate and languorous; we’ll be jumping into the pool.