It happened last March 27 at Monaco .... Bill Wyman & The Rhythm Kings inaugurated a new nightclub: "The Moods".

Former Rolling Stones bassist who hung up in '93, has recovered his own group with which he is currently shooting. He is content now to the times of good old rock standards. That evening, he welcomed guest in the most ex-stoniens Telephone: Louis Bertignac. The program, 2 times for Hendrix: Hey Joe here with the video and Red House.

The major advantage of this video is to show the meeting between teacher and pupil Bertignac on stage alongside the band's bassist who challenged him to play guitar is like a kid gives the reply to Casimir. Look carefully at the look he launched after the passage in which he plays with his teeth.

It is also the contrast between the side of the French mad dog, shaking in a quasi-epileptic head when his fingers come into contact with the strings of his guitar, and the apparent stoicism of so British Wyman who, as the law Justice, staring into space, "poses" without emphasis his bass line.

This con is, but before such a simple demonstration, before the evidence of attending a rare moment, by the nature that emerges from the protagonist, one word comes to mind: RESPECT.

Let me explain: it was nice to spend time scanning the horizon looking for a new sound, a new thrill, a new icon to take positions on any particular style of music, converse seriously on the Xth album of this or that group, it is not unpleasant sometimes to let go, to disarm, saying shit this endless race to novelty (the invention is a Buzz Marketing).

I had the chance to see this concert (filmed and directed by Ted Tarricone) almost in its entirety. With its air of not touching it, Father Wyman has surrounded itself with fucking cadors eg, Gary Brooker founded Procol Harum on keyboards, Graham Broad on drums impressive record, Beverley Skeete, which has already lent her voice to both Chemical brothers that Eurythmics, and a sort of Redneck redhead Hammond organ which still do not know the name but I'm totally a fan since his recovery so atypical of Johnny B. Goode.

All this little band of the sidekick who could take it easy in a nursing home we stroll, for 2 hours, the sources of the Rock (each performing an average of 2 pieces). User to call back if it were a movie, it would be a mix in Space Cowboys and Blues Brothers. The kind of film that is certainly not a headache but that can sometimes pass on a fucking potato.