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Real Estate

A the beginning of last year, in an article reviewing Fake Blues, Garrincha said that Real Estate played “the blues of a western world which does not only hear the sound of the waves but whose dream is to see the real sea”.

Keeping these words in mind, we were looking for a place out of time and far from the crowd, a place likely to echo the soft chorus and the reverb-filled nostalgia of the New Jersey band. We must say that the low and grey sky of this mid-afternoon encouraged a languid posture and a certain melancholy.

A bit away from the festival, we found the perfect place: an abandoned railway track, a metallic bridge over the Ourcq canal, and in the background a building under demolition which, if we had actually looked for it, could have looked like a schoolboy prank.

Once in place, and together with some festival-goers who fell in behind us, the guitars of ‘Green Aisles’ started to deploy their urban blues in this customised setting.  Then, looking in the distance for a few minutes, we started dreaming about somewhere else , comfortably cradled by Martin Courtney’s voice.

Translated by Coumba Diallo