Summer Nights

Onwards and upwards.

Things are starting to wind down now summer is in full swing. The halls of The Organisation are becoming quieter as colleagues vanish on leave. Not yet the case for me. I’m still busy organising a few last minute activities before the summer lull truly kicks in. A rearrangement of personnel is making my life easier, I can’t lie. But that’s for another, later blog.

In early July my Strasbourg lifeline, The High Rock Gospel Singers, meet for the last time before La Rentrée in September. The effect of the summer hiatus is already felt amongst the already fickle membership. That Friday night, I arrive to find an empty rehearsal space. Not having a Whats App account, I'm usually one of the last to know if practice has been cancelled again. I send an enquiring text to one of the directors. On their way. Transport problems.

In the end, only four of us gather for unhealthy snacks and an impromptu singalong; me, fellow soprano Aurélie and choir directors Kiasi and Evan. At the behest of the latter, we end up singing makeshift tributes to some of our favourite 90s-00s pop/R&B and Gospel acts. Rihanna, Beyoncé/Destiny’s Child, Neyo (them), Justin Timberlake (me), Janet, Boyz II Men, Whitney, Brandy, Christina Aguilera (shared)… Well, it’s mostly three of us playing this variation of Karaoke whilst Aurélie searches songs on her phone with which she’s not familiar. Sometimes, our trio’s harmonies spontaneously blend in a most enchanting manner.

If there is any hint of discord, it’s more theological; by way of discussing a controversial, highly gifted former Gospel singer. Not for the first time I have the impression that Kiasi and Evan’s understanding of the Good News is highly customised. The lines blur between enjoying the benefits of God’s grace and simply cherry-picking palatable aspects of scripture whilst ignoring the tougher portions. Kiasi and I have had friendly disagreement over these matters before. Again, albeit rather more tentatively, I venture to give an alternative viewpoint. I’m hesitant to spoil the ambiance. I can’t quite square if it is cowardice or discernment but it doesn’t seem the right time or place to pick this battle. Tempted to fret whether I’ve made a good decision, I have to remind myself that it’s God’s job to convince, not mine. I scarcely have a hold on my own issues. I pray for my brothers and by Divine grace, try and work out my own salvation with fear and trembling.

It won’t be the last time I cross paths with Kiasi before the long summer break.

Etoile Bourse, Bastille Day fireworks: courtesy of jds.fr

That weekend is Bastille Day - the French National Holiday. It falls on a Sunday. I forsake my usual evening of rest to catch the late night fireworks. I contemplate inviting some acquaintances but decide to go it alone. I quite like the idea of floating through the crowds unencumbered. Living in Alsace, it's become a statement of sorts for me to fly solo at these large scale events. It's a response to what I perceive as co-dependency amongst the Strasbourgeois. Even if they don't like their own company, it shouldn't mean I am averse to mine.

Although still in the Étoile Bourse vicinity, the event's layout is different compared to 2018. Large areas are sectioned off. The security is heavier and it's less obvious where the crowd should gather. Thankfully, I arrive early enough to be able to lose time searching for a sweet spot. I end up not far from where my journey on foot began.

Like last year, it's a worthy spectacle. I don't detect the sort of cost-cutting measures that have beset the London fireworks displays I used to frequent. The light dancing off the reflective surfaces of the Malraux Médiathèque are as stunning as the main show itself. I'm plugged into my music player and pick tunes on a whim. The combined effect of the audio and visual stimulation is quite a trippy experience. Amen to natural highs.

(c) Pascale Ronson

The following week I’m pleasantly surprised to see Kiasi on stage as the opening act and BV’s at a free open-air Gospel concert in Place Kleber. It’s a late starter for a school night but I’m grateful to have made the effort. I stumble across HRGS soprano, Michelle. Over the months we’ve fallen into a positive dynamic. She’s akin to my Caucasian godmother, at least in the choir’s contest. She’s compassionate, encouraging and makes me feel safe. We already have plans to reconnect that Friday night, now rehearsals are officially over for summer.

Amidst the crowd we spot choir members and affiliates, past and present, including Aurélie. She joins us later. The main act herself is HRGS alumna.

The DJ set is on fire if a little schizophonic. He doesn’t -or can’t -mix. No song is played for longer than a minute. He hops from Anderson .Paak back to early 20th Century Jazz standards and forward again to The Jackson 5, then to 90s neo-soul and R&B. It sounds more like his personal collection on shuffle. Fortunately for him, he has good taste. I make the most of the snippets to get my groove on. As usual, our little group are some of the few dancing souls amongst the typically rigid Alsatian audience. Michelle is catching some of the magic on her trusty digital camera.

Meanwhile Kiasi and co s'éclatent sur la scene. I notice Jeanne from church’s gifted housemate, Annalise on keys. Jeanne is somewhere in the mix but I won’t find this out until I’m already on the way home.

HRGS members in the crowd have the advantage of being familiar with much of the repertoire as well as the specific arrangements. The main act’s compositions are a bit too bluesy for my taste but it does not impede my enjoyment. I’m a woman of simple pleasures. A confluence of factors make this one of my most memorable nights out in Strasbourg. Good music, good weather, good company, good atmosphere, Good God.

The night bus calls and the gig isn’t ending any time very soon. I bid Michelle farewell and beg off.

Soundtrack: Money (single) by Michael Kiwanuka & Tom Misch, In My Element by Robert Glasper, The Blu James LP.