Musiques manouches daujourdhui / Gypsy Music from today

Moreno
Moreno Bolro

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e suis n en 1963 a la frontire allemande entre Sarguemines et Saarbrck. Pour nous autres, manouches de lest, peu importe que lon soit dun pays ou de lautre. Nous navons pas de frontire. Curieusement, pour certains manouches ns en rgion parisienne, nous faisons un peu figure dtrangers. Nous parlons encore le rom alors que dans certaines familles la langue sest parfois perdue. Jai pass ma jeunesse voyager entre lAlsace et les Saintes-Maries de la Mer. Certains hivers ont t trs rudes et peu peu on sest sdentaris. Notre famille sest installe dans une HLM mais nous avons gard la caravane pour lt. Le besoin de bourlinguer tait toujours l. Tout comme la musique. Mes trois frres, Angelo, Barro et Tonino, jouaient de la guitare et jai commenc laccompagnement de faon naturelle. Jai perdu mon pre trs tt mais aussi loin que je me souvienne, je le revois galement avec une guitare. Mes frres ans mont transmis leur savoir. Il suffisait douvrir les oreilles, dobserver, dessayer de reproduire les doigts. Parfois, lenseignement tait dur et je me prenais quelques coups sur les mains quand je faisais une erreur mais ils ont vite remarqu que jtais dou. Il faut dire que je ne pensais qu a. Le soir, lorsquil y avait une fte entre guitaristes, je faisais semblant de dormir dans la caravane mais je me tenais lafft derrire la lucarne. Ds que je voyais un accord inconnu, je reproduisais la position des doigts sur mon avant-bras gauche puis je prenais ma guitare qui tait toujours cache ct de moi et, tout en restant allong, je plaquais les accords en silence. Personne ntait au courant. videmment, comme beaucoup dautres guitaristes en herbe, jcoutais Django. Jai encore les disques qui mont
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servi tudier, tous rays force de reculer laiguille. Mais je les garde comme des reliques. Je suis ensuite parti faire la manche dans des petits cafs de la rgion de Toulon. Un jour, je jouais une terrasse de bistro et je vois passer un petit monsieur bien habill avec costume, moustache et chapeau. Il maborde et me dit: Tu viens dAlsace, a se sent ta manire de jouer. Ctait Tchan Tchou: un guitariste manouche que lon a baptis ainsi cause de ses yeux brids et de son air un peu chinois. Tchan Tchou tait un personnage dont javais toujours entendu parl, que javais cout sur disques et que javais souvent rv de rencontrer. Pour parler de cet homme, il me faudrait des heures. Le soir mme de notre rencontre, nous avons fait le buf ensemble et il y a eu aussitt une forte complicit. Jtais nerveux et trs impressionn. Quand il faisait deux notes, jen faisais dix. Mais jai vite compris que je ntais pas la hauteur, que jtais encore un jeune chien fou alors que lui prenait le temps de poser tranquillement ses phrases. Jai dcid de rester Toulon, je me suis install dans une caravane et je lai accompagn pendant prs de quatre ans. Il ma appris lessentiel, notamment lart de la valse, le sens de la mesure, la musicalit dun phras. Cest quand on est spar dun homme comme lui, que lon ne joue plus avec lui directement que lon ralise pleinement tout ce quil a pu transmettre. Encore aujourdhui je pense sa manire de jouer et je le garde en rfrence. Dans une vie de musicien, cest une norme chance de trouver un matre comme Tchan Tchou. Lorsque je suis mont Paris, les gens ont t surpris par mon style, un mlange de mes racines de lest et de linfluence sudiste de Tchan Tchou. Jai
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cum les restaurants, les clubs de jazz, essentiellement le milieu de la musique manouche. Paris est une ville terrible, il faut constamment faire ses preuves, relever les dfis, marquer son territoire et savoir garder son public. Il faut aussi savoir sentourer, trouver les partenaires qui comprennent ce que lon veut faire. Cest un parcours de longue haleine. Il y a des rencontres dterminantes, comme celle de Maurice Dupont, un luthier install Cognac et qui mrite dtre davantage connu. Il fait un magnifique travail et, surtout, il sait couter et sadapter aux besoins de chaque musicien. Grce lui, je pense avoir enfin une guitare qui corresponde ma personnalit. La relation son instrument est fondamentale. Car le plus important est de trouver son identit, sa vraie coloration sonore, de ne pas perdre ce que lon a en soi, toutes les choses que lon a exprimer. Dans notre musique, quand on a la fonction de soliste il ne faut jamais oublier que lon parle au nom dun peuple, que lon raconte une histoire et quil faut faire honneur ses racines. Il y a aussi quelque chose de religieux dans le partage des motions et la communication avec les autres. Chez nous, on pense que la musique est un don de Dieu et quand on trouve la note exacte, le son juste, lharmonie parfaite dans le groupe, on se sent parfois touch par la grce. Il y a une force et un mystre qui nous chappent.

Propos recueillis par Nol Balen

Merci Alain Antonietto pour son aide prcieuse. M.P.

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was born in 1963 on the French-German border, between Sarguemines and Saarbrck. For us gypsies of the East, it doesnt matter if were from one country or another. We have no borders. Funnily enough, for certain gypsies born in the Paris are, we are foreigners. We still speak rom whereas in a lot of the families around Paris, the language is often just about lost. I spent my childhood travelling between the Alsace region and Saintes Marie de la Mer. Some winters were pretty harsh and little by little we settled down. Our family moved into a social housing flat but we kept the camper for the summers. The need to move was always there. Like music. My three brothers, Angelo, Barro and Tonino played guitar and it was only natural that I accompany them. My father died when I was very young, but as far as I can remember he always had a guitar with him. My older brothers taught me all they knew. All I had to do was open my ears, watch and try to copy the finger positions. Sometimes they were hard with me and they would slap my hands when I made a mistake, but they quickly saw that I was talented. I must say that all I thought about was playing the guitar. At night, when there would be guitar parties, I would pretend to be asleep in the camper and would watch carefully from behind the window. When I saw a chord I didnt know I would quickly reproduce the finger positions on my left forearm. Then I would take my guitar that I always hid next to my bed and silently press the chords while lying in my bed. Nobody knew. Of course, like many young guitarists I listened to Django. I still have the records that used to study, scratched from so much playing. But I still keep them as relics.
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Then I busked in the cafs around Toulon. One day I was playing at a terrace caf when a short, well-dressed man, wearing a hat and a moustache, came up to me. He said, Youre from Alsace. I can tell by the way you play. It was Tchan Tchou, a gypsy guitarist who got his nickname because of his slanted eyes. I had hear a lot about Tchan Tchou and had listened to his records. I had often dreamed of meeting him. I could talk for hours about him. The same night we met, we played together and immediately hit it off. I was nervous and very impressed by him. He played two notes for ten of my own. I quickly understood that I was nothing next to him. I was like a young puppy jumping around like crazy while he took his time to carefully place his phrases. I decided to stay in Toulon. I found myself a camper and accompanied him for four years. He taught me the basics, in particular the art of waltzes, the notion of measure and the musicality of a phrase. It is when you are separated from someone like that you realise how much you learned from them. Today I still think of how he played and he remains a reference. I was extremely lucky to have met with someone like Tchan Tchou. When I first came to Paris, people were surprised by my style of playing that was the result of the blend of my roots from the East and the Southern influence of Tchan Tchou. I combed the restaurants and jazz clubs, mostly in gypsy music circles. Paris is a terrible city. You constantly have to prove yourself, take up challenges, mark your territory and work at keeping your public. You also have to know how to find partners who understand what you want to do. Its a long road. There are also encounters which make the difference, like with Maurice Dupont, a
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stringed-instrument maker in Cognac who deserves to be more widely known. He does beautiful work and, above all, knows how to listen and adapt to the needs of each musician. Thanks to him, I think I finally have the guitar that fits my personality. The relation with the instrument is fundamental. What is most important is to find ones identity, ones own sound, not to lose what you have inside you, all the things that you want to express. In our music, when you are a soloist, you always have to remember that you are talking in the name of a people, that you are telling a story and that you must honor your roots. There is something religious about sharing your feelings and communicating to others. For us, music is a gift of God and when you find the right note, the right sound, perfect harmony in a group, then you feel like you have been touched by the grace of God. There is a force and a mystery that are beyond us.

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... Tchan-Tchou (Moreno)

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