Le Temps additionnel

Description

Le TOULOUSE CON TOUR (TCT) is three faces, three styles, three stories, three voices united by the love of song first, and the desire to share it next. The TCT is Art Mengo, Yvan Cujious, and Magyd Cherfi, an incongruous trio of young fifty-somethings, never left but always returned... Together, they are a bit more than Toulouse; they are the missing link between the songs of yesterday and the groove of the moment. On their album, they revive the French song we love (Cabrel, Ferrer, and others...) with the help of Clément Libes (album producer for Bigflo and Oli, Soprano, but also Christophe, Tim Dup, or Kyan Kojandi...) who reveals them to be sensitive to the spirit of the times, to melodies in general, to the taste of words.
The TCT is Michel, a velvety timbre, a lover, an episcopal groove. It’s Yvan, a nightingale from Toulouse caged by Nougaro-like strings, a greedy finch of phrases crafted with our grammar. It’s also Magyd, your rocky one, greased with Kabyle rocks, a defender of minorities shouting the desire to belong. Together, they finally allow themselves the most beautiful repertoire without fear of being compared, and that’s what makes these three musketeers the worthy representatives of the most beautiful song there is, French song.
If it weren’t for the love of this song, a passion for the Occitan terroir, and a devotion to the verb, they wouldn’t have united their voices and might never have crossed paths. Yet, you have to see them, sizing each other up on stage as if they hadn’t chosen each other. Irresistible, they breathe new life into the greatest authors and laugh at being at their ankles. The Ferrers, the Cabrels, the Nougaros, the Perrets. The lesser-known ones too. The Juliette, the Vassiliu, the Marcel Amont.
They tackle the hits, those of Gold, Mader, or Groscolas. Their show pays tribute to the heritage that rocked them and carries the devastating melancholy of an age that one believes to be ungrateful. Because yes, the TCT is also the lesson learned from adventurous loves, the cautious step of magnificent ‘losers’ who still laugh and believe, feigning the muscle that has melted and the abs that have softened.
Sometimes mimicking the ‘provincial hicks,’ sometimes embracing the universal locality advocated by Claude Sicre, they sing, tease each other, kiss... for the pleasure of the audience. It resembles a three-cushion billiard table. Mengo snaps his velvety tongue, Magyd growls like a wolf from the Kabyle steppes, and Yvan draws from his melodic bow melodies that oil it all. Behind them, a drum and an accordion come to stitch together a territory in a land of asylum.