Vaëlle smiled until the prize was hers. We found out shortly before midnight on Sunday: it was Fabienne Thibeault, winner in 1974, who presented her with the grand prize at the Granby International Song Festival, a prize that is now called “La Fabienne” in her honor. A beautiful passing of the torch, half a century later.
Six hours earlier
On the wide sidewalk, between the entrance to the chic Palace and the Sainte-Famille church, a small group that seems ad hoc sets up shop. The bells ring the Angelus. It is 6 p.m. A surprise show, an hour and a half before the grand finale of the Granby International Song Festival? Yes indeed. It is indeed Alex Nevsky, behind this beautiful red Nord keyboard, flanked by female musicians, on the flute, violin, cello, and French horn.
It’s very gentle, what they play as a group of five. Exquisite, even. You have to listen, however. Beauty, true beauty, is a healthy requirement. Nevsky sings little, is more occupied with his arpeggios. It’s very calm at the end of the festival. A little breeze welcomes the people, passers-by as much as the guests at the finale, who treat themselves to this optional prettiness before entering. We think that the finalists, the group Mercure, Léa Deschênes, Jérémie Arsenault, Louis-Julien Durso and Vaëlle, would find a little salutary peace there just before testing themselves on stage. Let’s talk about each one’s performance.
Mercury rising
It’s a great edition, the festival has rediscovered its joy. Invention and relevance in the same vein. Mercure, a hip-hop group from Saint-Jean to start? Yes, it’s possible. Hip-hop that rolls hard rock with it? And singing pop choruses? Anything is possible. From Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu to Granby, it’s now happening outside the big cities, all genres allowed, combined, exalted. “We would be gold medalists if criticism were an Olympic sport,” exclaims the Zouglou singer.
Léa Deschênes, paradox to be resolved
Her voice is a little out of tune. It’s not a matter of nervousness, which we would understand quite naturally: hey, when you’ve climbed among the 24 semi-finalists to count among the six who count, that’s not nothing. But her way of not really pronouncing is almost generational: since Coeur de pirate, we’ve asked people to go towards the artist, and not the other way around. It’s up to us to decipher, to perceive the unspeakable. Paradox, when she presents How you dirty your lifeshe is completely accessible like the girl from Lac Saint-Jean that she is. No distance. When she sings, she asks to be followed. There must be a balance to be found in her. To be followed, without decoding.
The incessant complaint of Jérémie Arsenault
“I quit, I’m the only one dead in my own war,” screams this young man, clutching his guts. Either he’s not well, or he has what he believes to be the solution to survive himself: Jérémie Arsenault is both his best friend and his sworn enemy. In Black sunhe stares the intolerable in the face: “I would like to be reborn in reverse / Start my life at the end / Run away from here or everything will extinguish me”. Not sure that the Granby audience, or even the general public, has the stomach ready to digest such a pain in life. We will certainly admire the courage of the performer. You have to want to. But you also have to like the lamentations.
The higher degree of the verb in Louis-Julien Durso
Oh! This one hits hard. The voice, the lyrics, the arrangements, the staging, Louis-Julien has it all. This timbre with its vast register is astonishing: he could be a stand-in in Starmania he knows how to stretch out notes. He has something very referential, it could be a fault: no, it’s an art! At times, he seems to be playing Pierre Lapointe on purpose. Sometimes he frolics with Polnareff, one would say, capable of orchestral pop based on piano from the best era.
Better, he has a complex and skillful verb. In Cinema loveit’s quite astonishing: “In the disorder of our false convictions / After the 3-2-1 action / There would be a plot of Dompierre / And images of Arthur Hilaire”. Even stronger, aim me his poetic prose in Hands on my neck : “I walk in the void of a premonitory dream / I’m afraid of waking up at the very end of the story”. This level. Can’t wait for an album by this Durso.
The crazy charm of Vaëlle
Her place in the final is the result of the public vote. We understand why on this decisive Sunday. Vaëlle has the trick. She wants to be a bit like the Boulay Sisters all by herself, not without a certain acid charm. If her texts did not weigh her down, “images too heavy [qui] hold your alienating thoughts hostage” (in Tomorrow), we would be quite seduced. As long as we don’t pay attention, that’s what happens. Hence his victory, which is the victory of a teeming nature.
Still, there are collaborations that get lost: we can’t do everything, and that’s not a flaw. Author wanted. You still have to realize it. That’s what competitions are for.