Here at the Blogothèque, we have a recurring enemy. It never disappoints us, and is always on the watch to hinder us as soon as we enter its territory. For example, there’s always the park manager who interrupts the middle of a song to explain to us that we can’t play there because we do not have a permit and are disturbing the peace. The same story is true for cemeteries. So, when we entered Montmatre to do a show with EMA and her violinist, we were more than careful.
Five minutes after Jean-Baptiste entered with a microphone (he said he was going to use it to capture the cemetery ambiance for a collection of Parisian sounds), we arrived in a dispersed order with the instruments hidden in their cases. We regrouped around a little chapel that is hidden at the end of an alley. There were stone flowers covered in dust, an eroding angel, and enough space for EMA to enter inside and kneel.
In grunge fashion, EMA wore a shapeless and washed out t-shirt, tattered jeans, old black sneakers, a ripped denim jacket. She’s tall, smiling, and much more simple and relaxed than her album suggests. She carries herself with ease, bares the marks of an irrational love for early 90s rock, and retains all her force during a live and stripped set. EMA strums her acoustic guitar as if it were an old and worn Gibson that was always destined to be smashed.
P.S. A big welcome to Hugo and his first concert à emporter!
Translated by Ariel Wilson
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