American Tour 2024 [New York]
It’s 8:45am. We are in the direction of Cambridge, MA, where we’ll play the Sinclair as the last concert of our short American tour with our friends from the band Temples tonight. We probably slept around 3 hours, if not less, as, in order to surprise Felix, Kerim, and Marcus, who were in New York for the first time, we stopped by Times Square to mark that unique moment, to add an additional layer of magic to a day that had already been incredibly extraordinary. As our group tradition obliges, at every occasion we have to dwell in the dazzling lights of New York City, that special moment always includes a bottle of Celeste by Torres, a red wine, that our amazing manager Jennie found after stopping by several places for that specific bottle. A tradition is a tradition, right? Once I poured all the glasses, to the perplexed bewilderment of all the tourists surrounding us, we cheered to that new season of our collective journey, grateful that we were to be able to celebrate a life defined by a rich measure of love, humanity, and community. It was truly moving and poignant, as for that special moment, beside the members of our touring party, we had the blessing to have Jennie, my mother, her boyfriend Michel, Momoka, and two of our label compadres, Julie and Max, with us. It was indeed incredibly special for so many different reasons for me.
In fact, that communal instant perfectly concluded an evening that had been absolutely fantastic, from a profound human perspective to an incredible sonic gathering. If my voice felt somehow tired and a bit worn down during the soundcheck, it was the complete opposite when we hopped on stage. Not only did I feel like I was totally in control of my voice, I felt free and at peace, happy even, which greatly contrasted with the nervousness I had tried to shackle down all day. I kept repeating that it wasn’t about me, nor about the members of my management company attending or the music business moguls invited to the concert, but about channeling the specific spirit designed for the evening. But my affective brokenness runs deeper than I would like to admit. Doubt is a poison that deprives faith of its power to elevate one from the paralysis that comes with fears and stoicism. So instead of trying to convince my head of the liberating emancipation I now evolve in, I went for a walk, until I reached the Chelsea Hotel, which reminded me of the hotel residents: Leonard Cohen, Andy Warhol, Jack Kerouac, Dylan Thomas, Arthur C. Clarke, Patti Smith, and Virgil Thomson, to name a few. They transcend cultural individuals whose art has been the extension of their vision of the world as they were imagining it and the reflection of their own creative, boundless universe. That’s why being yourself and presenting who you are, in all honesty, should never be as nerve-wracking as I so often feel it is. And it’s with that thought in my heart that I went back to the venue, where a photographer was waiting for us to start a photoshoot.
Being on stage with a peaceful state of mind has always offered me the possibility to contemplate time stretching and deconstructing itself in a sort of slow motion stream. Tonight felt like I was commanding time. The sound was like perfumes floating in the air, movements appearing in colors, and the sea of people before me was like a magnificent mosaic of lights shining in all sorts of different shades. I like initiating the experience with the song “Ouverture”, as it’s a song I’m still reshaping from one evening to another. By doing so, it gives me the freedom to approach the song based on the spirit I discern through the initial waves of controlled swells and feedbacks I’m abandoning my inner balance in from the get-go. The words change, evolve, widen, and sharpen themselves the second I reach the microphone. One line that has never changed so far is the opening sentence: “A heart full of colors”. Beyond the tour, those words offer the open canvas that is my music a field of all possibilities to harvest. Knowing its fruits might come a few days later — even years — the “when” doesn’t really matter. It’s the why that is at the center of everything I do. “Why” is like my missing statement, while “when” has more to do with ambition and other people’s expectations than anything else. And the “whys” are becoming clearer and clearer for me…
“Slow Pace of the Winds”, the second song, is a challenging one to have so early in the set, but when you only have time to play 3 songs, the sequencing is pretty limited. If every concert is unique by the improvisation that defines them, 45 minutes go by pretty fast, leaving little margin to play with the set list. It is horribly limitative for a band like mine, but I’d rather play fewer songs than rush every single one of them to squeeze a fourth one in the mix. It wouldn’t make sense to me. So when the second song starts, I need to relax and loosen up; otherwise, I will rush it out and choke the high notes. That’s the reason I like long instrumental intros; they set the tone, the attitude, even. I have to let the tidal motion guide me, not the other way around. And when the first chorus starts, I need to let my body and spirit free so that my vocal cords can naturally respond to that atmosphere. Even if the music implies screaming, I don’t have to… Not anymore, no, I don’t. So when I went smoothly through the first high notes, I knew that I was in the communal zone and that everything would be aligned with the enfranchising sensations the song’s nature carries. And then my microphone stopped working altogether.
Facing technical issues would have freaked me out before and would have had me jump right back into “control” — the profound illusionary type. I would start overplaying, trying to compensate for the problems encountered, being self-centered, and completely off synch with the vibe. But this time, I remained calm and relaxed. I even kept on singing the whole way through. First, I knew that Felix and Kerim would fix whatever the issue was — and they brilliantly did. I transitioned towards my melodic lead guitar part before going back to my microphone to sing the soft and soulful last few verses, completing the first introductory “act” to the crowd. Then came the interaction: my vocal effects, that were responsible for my earlier problem, kept flickering from one channel to another, turning my “Good evening, I’m Alex Henry Foster” into a large echoed, delayed, biblical-sounding opening statement… I laughed with the people, managed to publicly tease my mother, who was in New York for the first time, and would be easily identified as the short woman screaming “I love you, baby” in French. We then jumped right into a raging yet uplifting unique version of “The Hunter”. It went by too fast. If I feel like I can hold time in the palm of my hand, I clearly can’t capture it long enough to suspend its fast-paced essence. One thing for sure is that people didn’t just welcome us like family; they embraced the emotional canvas we offered them and defined what we crafted together, all of it in the most magnificent display of freely given love it could have been.
“Slow Pace of the Winds”, the second song, is a challenging one to have so early in the set, but when you only have time to play 3 songs, the sequencing is pretty limited. If every concert is unique by the improvisation that defines them, 45 minutes go by pretty fast, leaving little margin to play with the set list. It is horribly limitative for a band like mine, but I’d rather play fewer songs than rush every single one of them to squeeze a fourth one in the mix. It wouldn’t make sense to me. So when the second song starts, I need to relax and loosen up; otherwise, I will rush it out and choke the high notes. That’s the reason I like long instrumental intros; they set the tone, the attitude, even. I have to let the tidal motion guide me, not the other way around. And when the first chorus starts, I need to let my body and spirit free so that my vocal cords can naturally respond to that atmosphere. Even if the music implies screaming, I don’t have to… Not anymore, no, I don’t. So when I went smoothly through the first high notes, I knew that I was in the communal zone and that everything would be aligned with the enfranchising sensations the song’s nature carries. And then my microphone stopped working altogether.
Facing technical issues would have freaked me out before and would have had me jump right back into “control” — the profound illusionary type. I would start overplaying, trying to compensate for the problems encountered, being self-centered, and completely off synch with the vibe. But this time, I remained calm and relaxed. I even kept on singing the whole way through. First, I knew that Felix and Kerim would fix whatever the issue was — and they brilliantly did. I transitioned towards my melodic lead guitar part before going back to my microphone to sing the soft and soulful last few verses, completing the first introductory “act” to the crowd. Then came the interaction: my vocal effects, that were responsible for my earlier problem, kept flickering from one channel to another, turning my “Good evening, I’m Alex Henry Foster” into a large echoed, delayed, biblical-sounding opening statement… I laughed with the people, managed to publicly tease my mother, who was in New York for the first time, and would be easily identified as the short woman screaming “I love you, baby” in French. We then jumped right into a raging yet uplifting unique version of “The Hunter”. It went by too fast. If I feel like I can hold time in the palm of my hand, I clearly can’t capture it long enough to suspend its fast-paced essence. One thing for sure is that people didn’t just welcome us like family; they embraced the emotional canvas we offered them and defined what we crafted together, all of it in the most magnificent display of freely given love it could have been.
Once back in the green room, Jennie had the kindness of bringing my precious friend Lee, who used to play for one of my all-time favorite bands, Sonic Youth, so we could spend some time together. It is nothing short of an inspiration every time we see each other, considering he is one of the only few creators expressing his passionate eagerness to keep digging deeper and deeper through all sorts of artistic expressions. Most people in his position would have slowly glided on whatever past glories they had experienced, but not him. And that’s what I respect and admire about him. If you are wondering why my projects do not follow the “normal” discography type of releases most artists have crafted through their journey, Lee is most definitely a reason for that beautiful illogical arc of mine. All that to say that it was quite a refreshing moment for me to share about music, art, community, and about meeting together in Tangier — where else?!
Speaking of connecting with a tremendous artist and a dear friend such as Lee, I also go to meet Sam from Art Comes First, one of the most soulful people I know, a person I love with a very singular heart. Always positive, community-driven, and a “destroyer” of any wall of difference there is, from Japan to Morocco, Paris, London, New York, and beyond… We always miss each other by a week or two in our similar travels, so we agreed on coordinating our business trips from now on! I’m inviting you to have a look at Sam’s culturally engaging and defining universe at www.artcomesfirst.com.
Speaking of connecting with a tremendous artist and a dear friend such as Lee, I also go to meet Sam from Art Comes First, one of the most soulful people I know, a person I love with a very singular heart. Always positive, community-driven, and a “destroyer” of any wall of difference there is, from Japan to Morocco, Paris, London, New York, and beyond… We always miss each other by a week or two in our similar travels, so we agreed on coordinating our business trips from now on! I’m inviting you to have a look at Sam’s culturally engaging and defining universe at www.artcomesfirst.com.
The rest of the evening was just as equally heartfelt, as I had the joy to meet passionate people who stopped by the merch table to share about their experience during the show, about New York, about being uprooted in the city, craving a community-oriented motion… I could have stayed there all night to talk with every single one of them. Italy, Portugal, Argentina, Iran, China, Norway, Mexico, France, and Paraguay are among the countries I remember. Yes, tonight was a representation of what New York is about and how its multiple singularities shape and reshape a city of endless facets. I’m humbled that, tonight, a tiny shade of our colors was added to this already rich mix.
See you all again soon!!!
Special anecdote: As we were all gathered in Times Square, one of the giant screens right beside us — one amongst the countless ones — featured a giant hummingbird, right as we were getting ready for our collective toast. I mean, what are the odds?! Even though, with us, there’s always something magical going on, somehow… DREAM ON!!!
See you all again soon!!!
Special anecdote: As we were all gathered in Times Square, one of the giant screens right beside us — one amongst the countless ones — featured a giant hummingbird, right as we were getting ready for our collective toast. I mean, what are the odds?! Even though, with us, there’s always something magical going on, somehow… DREAM ON!!!
