Greetings from Besancon, France

Written by Psalm One. Published: Tuesday, January 4, 2011.

It’s 4pm in Besancon, France and we pull up to a small, inviting bar.

Our host, the owner, apologizes for her terrible English, and the language barrier begins again. It takes about 20 minutes to explain to Overflo and myself that we need to head downstairs, have a beer, check the sound, and then go upstairs to her apartment and chill out before the show starts.

What are we doing here? This is surreal.

We have been on performance auto-pilot for a few days. This tour isn’t the longest we’ve done, but it’s the furthest either of us have been from home, ever.

I went to Costa Rica in high school, and life is really just like high school without principals… But this was a new place, introduced to us by hip hop — the music of our youth.

We were in this cozy, French, bustling bar, having a local beer and wondering what adventures we’d have that evening. We were anxious to perform, and hopeful that people would show up for our 5:30pm show time.

I learned during this tour to always walk up to the bartender, who always smiles first, and say in my best French accent, “S’il vous plait, mais je parle un petit peu francais,” then I speak rudimentary English…….very…….effing……….slowly.

It works every time, and I usually get a good tasting drink because the bartenders believe in true recommendations.

And I never forget to smile and say, “merci.”

But enough flirting with French people. I am in a strange woman’s bathroom, stretching, steaming up the mirror and yelling vowels to warm up my voice. Seems pretty familiar, except it’s foreign.

The owner lives atop the bar we’re performing at, so our backstage is in fact her crib. She set out bottles of wine and played 90′s era R&B, with a little bit of Chicago hip hop thrown in.

Oh, and she had that other thing I like. That thing that should be legal. I felt right at home.

We were told to move at our leisure, which was great considering we were exhausted from non-stop travel. We’d moved constantly throughout Europe via trains, vehicles and more trains, and a nightmare-ish plane ride through Austria. So like I said, moving slowly was a nice option to have.

If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s the more you travel, the smaller the world becomes. I also know that music, math and smiling are all universal. Routine, even.

We spent three weeks touring Europe, but we were used to the routine by the second week, despite being in a foreign land far away from home. All foreign everything: land, food, language, currency, people, public television (which in some countries is downright pornographic!).

There were plenty of differences, but the similarities, those universal truths, we found in that bar on that snowy weekday afternoon.

By the time we went downstairs again we were well rested, in good spirits and ready to give our Chicago-style brand of hip hop, or whatever you wanna call it, to these kids.

Score. We walked into a packed venue. The bar is located adjacent to a university, and we were in the middle of a music festival, in a well-known part of town.

Giddy up.

A little girl of about 8 years old, who spoke no English at all, walked right up to me and asked for my autograph. Two kids traveled from Switzerland to check me out, and bought me gifts. They knew the words to “My Bucket Song” and “Macaroni and Cheese”.

That’s the beauty of the Music, and more specifically, the Internet. I am proud and blessed to be able to reach people, and travel to them, and to know that they are able to reach me. In this independent DIY world, itʼs nice to know that we have each other to groove with.

To a degree I still am in shock from my experiences and memories of tour; I found my small little piece of rap heaven, in a small, French college town.

So as I continue to strive for excellence, I hope that you continue to share in the vision. Live long, prosper, and Happy New Year.

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