Yves Lambert Trio

Musique hors piste

Accordionist-singer-harmonicist Yves Lambert was a founding member of one of Québec’s earliest trad groups, La Bottine Souriante. From 1976-2003, he traveled the world with them, an ambassador for traditional Québécois music. Both with and without La Bottine, he has earned Félix and Juno awards and nominations. Since striking out on his own, he has carved out an impressive niche for himself, collecting, arranging and performing a tenaciously-rooted repertoire that features a melding of pure Québécois style with edgy contemporary undertones, in part the result of his collaboration with his youthful sidemen and their strong trad and jazz backgrounds. I’ve known him for 25 years, but in recent years, I’d begun noticing another side to Monsieur Lambert – a poetic, curious and self-examining dimension to a man whom many of us see as somewhat larger-than-life due to his previous role as La Bottine frontman – but we had somehow missed the individual. As a trad musician myself, I was itching to learn more about what makes this iconic man, this “personage” tick, and to hear about his musical experiences “off-trail”.

It’s a mild March afternoon, a Thursday, later to become weekly jam night at L’Albion in downtown Joliette. I drive my Subaru (jam-ready, acoustic bass in the back) down the very steep, winding, snowy road leading to Yve’s Sainte-Mélanie studio, which is part of an old “domaine”, a group of ancient summer cottages on a tree-covered property high above the serpentine Assomption River. As I step out of the car, I notice enormous animal tracks in the snow. Really enormous, like bigger than a wolf. Hmm… When I reach the door and give a knock, I hear music and a muffled “Woof”. Yves opens up and assures me “He’s friendly, don’t worry”. Thank heavens, because he is VERY BIG. Diablo, a 130-pound Dogue de Bordeaux, proceeds to sniff, wag and kiss me, proving Yves right with ever-so-slightly alarming, overgrown-puppy gusto.We sit down with a local IPA microbrew from L’Alchimiste and begin to talk.

First of all, these guys are really, truly a team. The Yves Lambert Trio is Yves (vocals, accordion, harmonica), Olivier Rondeau (acoustic and electric guitar, vocals) and Tommy Gauthier (fiddle, bouzouki, mandolin, foot percussion, vocals). There is roughly a 20-year age difference between the younger two and Yves and it makes for a lovely dynamic, a kind of layed-back atmosphere that is sometimes lacking in bands with members of similar ages who are at the same point in their lifecycle. They’ve been together for ten years, and Olivier tells me that working together is a pleasure – the whole experience is instinctual, none of them are judgmental, they constantly learn from each over. He tells me “Yves has not lost his ‘kamikaze’ side, he’s willing to take a risk.” “It’s definitely not like back in the days of La Bottine when there was a lot of arguing – there’s no stress here”, adds Yves. “And we’re really productive and efficient”, interjects Tommy. “We accomplish what we set out do do.” The three released their first album as the Yves Lambert Trio in 2012 (Prûche Libre) but have previously recorded other albums together (with additional musicians).

Yves, while physically imposing with a slightly theatrical presence, is in reality an unpretentious guy with a high level of self-awareness and open-mindedness. Yet he is deeply, persistently connected to the idea of history, to the roots of the music he plays, continually returning to time-tested references to be sure he is understanding its essence. It is this “new” Yves that I’ve really come to appreciate over the past few years. He has come alive with this trio and they have created a sound that lands somewhere between pure trad (repertoire, playing) and Québécois music viewed as “world” music – the “ethnic” music that is generally maligned by that nation’s own government and cultural policies. I sometimes think that the danger it is in is, ironically, what keeps it alive; there is often a kind of urgency to those who devote their life to trad music. Yves loves poetry and is a thinker but what he cares about most is very simple: traditional music, music that has been passed down through the ages, that is just played and played and played. Period.

Olivier is a tall, slim, strawberry-blond-haired guy, very soft-spoken and smooth. He is the “calm” one, always responding thoughtfully. From rural Sainte-Mélanie, a bit north of Yves’ home, he is a unofficially the “arrangement king” with the trio. He holds a degree in Jazz Guitar from Concordia University and his playing is as smooth and as warm and spontaneous as his persona.

A native of Saint-Côme, the Lanaudière region’s trad “bellybutton” and song capitol, Tommy is an enthusiastic, intense fellow and a virtuostic multi-instrumentist. He has mastered styles from Québec trad to jazz, and has performed with many well-known Québec trad, jazz and country artists. He also possesses a tenacious personality – if he sets his mind to something it happens. He has a degree in Jazz from the University of Montréal and is a professor of violin there, as well.

I ask Yves if his family was musical. “Not really, but my grandmother sang traditional songs and I remember at five or six years old “gigueing" (stepdancing) to the Chicken Reel. Nobody could believe it, they were cracking up but I was tripping on the tune; it was a soirée at my grandmother Yvonne Poirier's house. I loved it! I was also a big fan of Les Cailloux, a group with Robert Jourdain [a local musician and friend who died last year]. I'd come home from school, lie down on the couch and listen to that. After that I got into rock… but later on, in the '70s, the English band the Incredible String Band with Robin Williamson became a strong influence for me. The fiddling was incredible. It got me out of the rock and into the folk-revival era. Another “étincelle” (spark) for me was John Renbourn, and the Bothy Band.

I’m curious about their first memory of music itself, the first time they noticed it or realized that it was important in their lives. “I remember exactly when!” says Yves immediately. “At 15 or 16 I paid $3.50 for a harmonica at a tobacco shop in downtown Joliette. I put it in my mouth and knew right away I could do this… It was like I had found a missing body part! I knew I'd be able to play it and it inspired me. I was motivated to think I could earn my living playing music, to feed myself and travel, too. Then I bought a little banjo but I couldn't tune it [laughs] so I gave up on that but it was really the harmonica that got me started. I came to realize that when you have music, even when you're struggling to pay the bills, you've always got something.”

“I was first inspired from a trad point of view by musicians like Philippe Bruneau. I always come back to him as a reference. I also have great respect for Denis Pépin [both Québec accordionists]. In the ‘70s I loved Le Rêve du Diable; the first time I saw them on Mont-Royal in Montréal for the national holiday it was incredible; their first album will always be a classic for me. It's authentic, the beginning of the folk-revival here in Québec, it was a renaissance for our own traditional music and very avant-garde at that moment in time, really "pure" in a way.”

“I can't honestly say that I'm in a period right now of listening to a lot of new stuff. I'm going back to the roots, my archives.” I ask him if he is in “rediscovery” mode. “Yes, but I have to say I've always been in that mode… it's my way of thinking. While I love working on arrangements with the group, I have to admit that when listening to music, it's not the arrangement that interests me the most. I'm more moved by the authenticity of a fiddler, an accordion by itself, without arrangements. This week I asked Sergiu [Popa] why he wanted to play with me. He responded that he went to school to learn a lot of what he does but his father was self-taught, and after awhile, with all he [Sergiu] had learned about theory and the mechanics of music, he had grown to realize that the essence of music lies in simplicity. And he could appreciate the Québécois repertoire in all its comparitive simplicity.”

“Today, I get excited about artists like the duo The Black Keys. I recently watched one of their David Letterman performances on YouTube – amazing! I love what's happening with groups like Mumford & Sons, it's remarkable, it's folk no matter what they call it, so I'm happy that music is going in that direction, it's positive. It's great that it can exist alongside the typical pop that’s out there. I recently saw an amazing show in Montréal, [accordionist] Richard Galliano and his sextet, classical music, formal and virtuostic but fantastic. Virtuosity in general impresses me. It used to intimidate me but now that I have a bit more experience I know that it's important not to be eaten up by comparing ourselves to our influences.”

From an area that was mostly hilly farms, Olivier’s home didn't have cable, “so my friends used to come over with video cassettes of rock shows and I was like ‘Wow!’ I didn't know it even existed… rock stars, MTV, Guns 'n Roses… it was then I decided I wanted to play guitar. We also saw bands in high-school. I was impressed, it was when I was about 12 and they played tunes I knew. It was a revelation to think that I could recreate the music of artists I admired; so I started taking guitar lessons. I was into Jimmy Hendrix, Led Zeppelin; they were big influences. When I started getting into trad, locally, it was La Bottine, of course. I listened to it all; I liked the complexity and it got me interested in Québécois roots music. More recently, I listen a lot to the Punch Brothers, and mind-blowing UK folk group Lau.

Tommy tells me that for him, it started late. “To be honest, up until I was about 14 I didn't even like music! I played sports, video games with friends, but when someone would ask me if I wanted to hang out and listen to music, some rock, Metallica… I'd say ‘No, no, not music!’. I wanted to be outside playing sports. By chance I started playing my Mom's drums; she had been drumming while she was pregnant with my sister. It was fun. My brother liked my drumming, too. My Dad was a fiddler but he didn't want me to play his instrument. One day, while he was at work, I took it out anyway and taught myself to play a waltz he often played. I figured out how to play it just like he did. When he came home, I played it for him and he was stunned. I'd gone from zero to playing one of his tunes, so he was impressed and spent the rest of the afternoon showing me how to do it properly.”

“But the main reason I started playing music is actually awful, a case of ego. I was about 15 and one day I was drumming, accompanying my Dad on fiddle. We were playing for one of his friends, a guy I didn't like who'd stopped by. My Dad's friend said to me ’It’s really easy to play drums, not like playing the fiddle, a real instrument.’ At first I didn't take it as a personal challenge, but subconsciously, probably because of my competitive sports instinct, I guess I did. I got out my Dad's fiddle and over the next week I learned 4 or 5 tunes. That's how it all began. I played both drums and fiddle for awhile and eventually realized that there was more of a future for me on fiddle.”

Tommy’s influences began with fiddler Mark O'Connor whose country-bluegrass, modern style and precision playing he admired. “It's rare to hear such perfect improvization. I used to doubt that it was improvized but it is.” Today, he’s a fan of the Punch Brothers, especially virtuostic mandolin player Chris Thile. “Completely insane!”, he says. As for people from his region: “I love the album Cap au Sorciers from Jean-François Bélanger [a Joliette composer-musician]; I didn't realize trad could be so hot! And all the fiddlers in the trad jams playing Irish and Québec tunes, like Rémy Laporte, or the super players from Ontario like Pierre Schryer; that whole gang inspired me.”

We open a bag of lime-and-pepper potato chips and I ask (with my mouth full, and Diablo sitting hopefully nearby) “So what’s a day in the life of Yves Lambert like? Are you a morning person or what?” Yves tells me “As a musician, an accordionist, a big part of my day is practicing. I'm currently working on a project with Sergiu Popa [Moldavian piano-accordion player], so I'm focused on learning and practicing tunes for the project as well as maintaining and developing my regular repertoire. I usually play accordion from 3 to 5 hours per day – a bit the morning, a bit in the afternoon, and sometimes late into the night. I might go to bed at 11:00 pm but if I can't sleep I’ll get up and go to the studio and play until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. I generally start to function around 10:00 am. Since I've been doing this a long time, I try to work on my archives, the history of what I play.

“I also work on perfecting technique on the other instruments I play. I had my didgeridoo period, and I’m now learning bass harmonica. I continue to enjoy practicing – I’m not really a composer, more of an "interprète" so I am constantly learning tunes and songs. I also spend time working on the setlists and presentations for our shows; we're not super busy right now so it's a good time to work on the mechanics. I listened to a recording of a solo show I did in December and it's not the same as when I'm playing with the guys – I thought my presentations were really bad! So I’ve decided it's time to fix that. Of course I'm an old "folkie" with that natural reflex to say nothing – or anything, sometimes really boring stuff – between tunes [laughs].”

“Lately I’m questioning modern technology and how it has us living in the moment, looking at the future, but not deeply reflecting on the past.” As he is talking, two iPhones ring simultaneously and three out of four of us jump up to see whose it is. Yves raises an eyebrow. “Cell phones ringing everywhere… modernity is so tied up with inventions, like Guttenberg's moveable type, for example… we keep moving ahead but seem to forget that these things are just tools. We love them for their usefulness, their beauty, or the success they symbolize. Even though I use modern tools, I feel that I'm stll a dinosaur. What pulls me in as a trad musician is going back to the origins, tripping on what people were already doing in past centuries, the (couldn’t understand adjective here) of the 19th century, the extravagance of the 17th century. I’m so inspired by history. I can't help it. I've been reading this great book about Québec in the 1600s that recounts the first text written by a European describing a Native ceremony and its music; understand that at that time, we're still a long way from the ethnomusicology of Marius Barbeau [famous collector of Québec songs in the early 1900s]. That was the first time that somebody wrote about music in Québec.

The beer is gone. The chips are digesting. The dog is snoring at my feet. We’re almost out of time (and possibly space), so I decide to wind things up via a minimalist approach, starting with a one-word description of the next album they’ll make as a trio. Tommy: swingy. Olivier: groovin’. Yves: happy.

And what best sums up what each of them is about musically at this moment in time? Tommy quickly responds with “éfficacité” (efficient). Olivier takes only a moment to say “discipline” (conveniently the same in English) but worries that I’ll think that strange (I don’t). Yves thinks hard for a moment, then, with a flourish, offers up “errance”, which probably best translates in this context to “off the beaten path”. I have a flash when I hear him say this French word – with all of his talk about how important history is to him, I suddenly imagine a new word, the offspring of coupling “errance” with “hier”, which is French for “yesterday”. I say it out loud: “hierrance” – vagabonding in the musical past, but most definitely not sticking to the trail.

...........................................................

Dana Whittle writes about, designs for, performs, composes, teaches, arranges, lives, breathes and occasionally curses traditional and folk music. 100% Amériquoise, she lives in rural Québec with her fiddler husband, musical kids and satellite internet. Visit her online at both dentdelion.net and vizou.com.

©2013 Dana Whittle - Sing Out Magazine, Dana Whittle

Le verbe «métisser» ne fait plus partie du vocabulaire musical d'Yves Lambert. Après avoir suivi toutes sortes de pistes, de l'Amérique latine au Maghreb, il est rentré dans ses terres.
Son disque Trio, enregistré avec ses fidèles complices Olivier Rondeau (guitare) et Tommy Gauthier (violon, mandoline, basse, etc.), demeure en effet fidèle à une tradition qu'il tire toutefois subtilement dans le présent. Souvent, c'est la façon de toucher les instruments qui fait la différence: la guitare électrique décalée d'Olivier Rondeau dans La chanson du capitaine Bernard ou encore le travail rythmique sur Les corps de métiers, nouvelle déclinaison d'un air que La Bottine souriante a enregistré sous le titre Le démon sort de l'enfer.
On sent un fond d'attitude rock dans le jeu des deux jeunes accompagnateurs de ce cher monsieur Lambert qui, lui, pompe ses accordéons avec un groove précis et chante d'une manière plus élégante que jamais. Le fantôme de Lawrence Lepage (mort le soir de Noël) plane aussi sur ce disque. Yves Lambert interprète en effet un de ses textes sur une musique d'Olivier Rondeau, à laquelle Tommy Gauthier a greffé un magnifique reel. Superbe travail d'équipe.
À écouter: La chanson du capitaine Bernard
TRADITIONNELLE
Yves Lambert
Trio
****
La pruche libre
- La Presse, Alexandre Vigneault

Le verbe «métisser» ne fait plus partie du vocabulaire musical d'Yves Lambert. Après avoir suivi toutes sortes de pistes, de l'Amérique latine au Maghreb, il est rentré dans ses terres.
Son disque Trio, enregistré avec ses fidèles complices Olivier Rondeau (guitare) et Tommy Gauthier (violon, mandoline, basse, etc.), demeure en effet fidèle à une tradition qu'il tire toutefois subtilement dans le présent. Souvent, c'est la façon de toucher les instruments qui fait la différence: la guitare électrique décalée d'Olivier Rondeau dans La chanson du capitaine Bernard ou encore le travail rythmique sur Les corps de métiers, nouvelle déclinaison d'un air que La Bottine souriante a enregistré sous le titre Le démon sort de l'enfer.
On sent un fond d'attitude rock dans le jeu des deux jeunes accompagnateurs de ce cher monsieur Lambert qui, lui, pompe ses accordéons avec un groove précis et chante d'une manière plus élégante que jamais. Le fantôme de Lawrence Lepage (mort le soir de Noël) plane aussi sur ce disque. Yves Lambert interprète en effet un de ses textes sur une musique d'Olivier Rondeau, à laquelle Tommy Gauthier a greffé un magnifique reel. Superbe travail d'équipe.
À écouter: La chanson du capitaine Bernard
TRADITIONNELLE
Yves Lambert
Trio
****
La pruche libre
- La Presse, Alexandre Vigneault

Quarante-cinq centimètres de neige plus tard, de braves Montréalais se sont présentés jeudi soir au Lion d'Or pour le remplir aux trois quarts de sa capacité d'accueil. Remarquable, dans le contexte, n'est-ce pas? Sur scène, on affichait présent. Très présent, d'ailleurs, malgré cette source du passé à laquelle s'abreuvent Yves Lambert, Olivier Rondeau et Tommy Gauthier.
Après avoir apprécié (une fois de plus) le très créatif quatuor d'harmonicistes montréalais sous la bannière D'Harmo, nous avions devant nous un des plus redoutables ensembles de musique traditionnelle vécue, imaginée et jouée par des musiciens francophones d'Amérique en 2012.
Très peu de groupes trad québécois peuvent se mesurer à une telle machine - on pense bien sûr à Vent du Nord, aux Chardonniers, à une poignée de musiciens accomplis et de jeunes aspirants qui finiront par y parvenir. Pour l'instant, cet Yves Lambert Trio a cela de particulier: deux jeunes multi-instrumentistes trad de très fort calibre contribuent à l'art d'un vétéran qui, à 56 ans, ne présente pas le moindre signe de lassitude. Dix ans après sa rupture avec la Bottine souriante dont il était la figure de proue, Lambert ne mobilise peut-être pas les grandes foules comme à la grande époque, mais il peut compter sur un public fidèle et connaisseur en matière de trad conjugué à l'indicatif présent.
En fait, il suffit d'aimer la musique de grande qualité pour apprécier ce qu'on a devant les yeux et dans les oreilles, bien au-delà des notions de genres.
La source folklorique québécoise, fin mélange de francophonie d'Europe, de traditions celtiques implantées depuis le XIXe siècle et d'américanité vécue depuis la colonisation, est omniprésente dans cette musique jouée à trois hommes et moult instruments à l'appui - dont cette guitare patentée par l'ingénieux Olivier Rondeau qui lui permet d'assurer simultanément les rôles de bassiste et de guitariste.
Il y a lieu de reconnaître l'effort d'actualisation. Cet Air de Kildarecomposé par Tommy Gauthier et joué avec attitude rock, c'est-à-dire avec le pied pesant sur le temps fort. Cette Chanson du Capitaine Bernard, sorte de folk rock trad qui admet la guitare électrique sans rompre avec le patrimoine. Cette chanson desCorps de métiers, comptes à régler avec les démons à coups de trad rock.
Il y a lieu d'apprécier les irréprochables suites pour Johnny Connoly et Keith Corrigan, ces turlutes et musiques instrumentales d'inspiration celtique.
Il y a lieu d'observer l'engagement de certaines chansons. On retient celle se portant à la défense de La rivière (Ouiatchouan) qui se déverse dans le lac Saint-Jean (à Val Jalbert) et où la possible construction d'un barrage hydro-électrique est vivement contestée. On retient aussi cette évocation du printemps érable avec la chanson Tous les chevaux qu'on mène au pas, un texte de Sylvain Rivière mis en musique par Lambert et Gauthier.
Il y a lieu de constater qu'Yves Lambert assume son passé de «Monsieur Bottine», notamment lorsqu'il nous balance ses incontournables du temps des Fêtes - La Ziguezon zinzon, Dans nos vieilles maisons (classique de Muriel Millard) ou cette Cuisinière... avec qui on prend un verre de bière dans un p'tit coin noir.
Malgré la joie qu'implique forcément une soirée trad dans le temps des Fêtes, cette soirée ne pouvait exclure un hommage rendu à l'octogénaire Lawrence Lepage, ressuscité l'automne dernier par l'équipe d'Yves Lambert... et mort chez lui dans la nuit de Noël. «Bizarre pareil...» a commenté notre hôte, sincèrement peiné par la disparition d'un artiste qu'il affectionnait et respectait au plus haut point - à l'instar du collègue Olivier qui a travaillé fort à la confection de l'album Le Temps. Au dernier Coup de coeur francophone, d'ailleurs, Lawrence Lepage triomphait à leurs côtés sur la même scène du Lion d'Or.
«Sa poésie, sa chanson incarnent les 50 dernières années de la Gaspésie», a résumé le chanteur avant d'entonner avec ses comparses quelques classiques du disparu - La Chanson pour Félix, etc.
Avant de rentrer dans sa région de Lanaudière (pour reprendre la route vers Montréal le lendemain, car il était de nou - La Presse, Alain Brunet

Quarante-cinq centimètres de neige plus tard, de braves Montréalais se sont présentés jeudi soir au Lion d'Or pour le remplir aux trois quarts de sa capacité d'accueil. Remarquable, dans le contexte, n'est-ce pas? Sur scène, on affichait présent. Très présent, d'ailleurs, malgré cette source du passé à laquelle s'abreuvent Yves Lambert, Olivier Rondeau et Tommy Gauthier.
Après avoir apprécié (une fois de plus) le très créatif quatuor d'harmonicistes montréalais sous la bannière D'Harmo, nous avions devant nous un des plus redoutables ensembles de musique traditionnelle vécue, imaginée et jouée par des musiciens francophones d'Amérique en 2012.
Très peu de groupes trad québécois peuvent se mesurer à une telle machine - on pense bien sûr à Vent du Nord, aux Chardonniers, à une poignée de musiciens accomplis et de jeunes aspirants qui finiront par y parvenir. Pour l'instant, cet Yves Lambert Trio a cela de particulier: deux jeunes multi-instrumentistes trad de très fort calibre contribuent à l'art d'un vétéran qui, à 56 ans, ne présente pas le moindre signe de lassitude. Dix ans après sa rupture avec la Bottine souriante dont il était la figure de proue, Lambert ne mobilise peut-être pas les grandes foules comme à la grande époque, mais il peut compter sur un public fidèle et connaisseur en matière de trad conjugué à l'indicatif présent.
En fait, il suffit d'aimer la musique de grande qualité pour apprécier ce qu'on a devant les yeux et dans les oreilles, bien au-delà des notions de genres.
La source folklorique québécoise, fin mélange de francophonie d'Europe, de traditions celtiques implantées depuis le XIXe siècle et d'américanité vécue depuis la colonisation, est omniprésente dans cette musique jouée à trois hommes et moult instruments à l'appui - dont cette guitare patentée par l'ingénieux Olivier Rondeau qui lui permet d'assurer simultanément les rôles de bassiste et de guitariste.
Il y a lieu de reconnaître l'effort d'actualisation. Cet Air de Kildarecomposé par Tommy Gauthier et joué avec attitude rock, c'est-à-dire avec le pied pesant sur le temps fort. Cette Chanson du Capitaine Bernard, sorte de folk rock trad qui admet la guitare électrique sans rompre avec le patrimoine. Cette chanson desCorps de métiers, comptes à régler avec les démons à coups de trad rock.
Il y a lieu d'apprécier les irréprochables suites pour Johnny Connoly et Keith Corrigan, ces turlutes et musiques instrumentales d'inspiration celtique.
Il y a lieu d'observer l'engagement de certaines chansons. On retient celle se portant à la défense de La rivière (Ouiatchouan) qui se déverse dans le lac Saint-Jean (à Val Jalbert) et où la possible construction d'un barrage hydro-électrique est vivement contestée. On retient aussi cette évocation du printemps érable avec la chanson Tous les chevaux qu'on mène au pas, un texte de Sylvain Rivière mis en musique par Lambert et Gauthier.
Il y a lieu de constater qu'Yves Lambert assume son passé de «Monsieur Bottine», notamment lorsqu'il nous balance ses incontournables du temps des Fêtes - La Ziguezon zinzon, Dans nos vieilles maisons (classique de Muriel Millard) ou cette Cuisinière... avec qui on prend un verre de bière dans un p'tit coin noir.
Malgré la joie qu'implique forcément une soirée trad dans le temps des Fêtes, cette soirée ne pouvait exclure un hommage rendu à l'octogénaire Lawrence Lepage, ressuscité l'automne dernier par l'équipe d'Yves Lambert... et mort chez lui dans la nuit de Noël. «Bizarre pareil...» a commenté notre hôte, sincèrement peiné par la disparition d'un artiste qu'il affectionnait et respectait au plus haut point - à l'instar du collègue Olivier qui a travaillé fort à la confection de l'album Le Temps. Au dernier Coup de coeur francophone, d'ailleurs, Lawrence Lepage triomphait à leurs côtés sur la même scène du Lion d'Or.
«Sa poésie, sa chanson incarnent les 50 dernières années de la Gaspésie», a résumé le chanteur avant d'entonner avec ses comparses quelques classiques du disparu - La Chanson pour Félix, etc.
Avant de rentrer dans sa région de Lanaudière (pour reprendre la route vers Montréal le lendemain, car il était de nou - La Presse, Alain Brunet