1001 est Crémazie: From Phonogramme to Phono Grass

Picture it: 1975, a concert imagined, produced and brought to the stage by a flock of middle-schoolers who wanted to make music to echo the sounds of jazz and rock, generally uninhibited - and deeply anchored in their time.

The “Rocking Grass” show created quite an event, filling the Collège André Grasset auditorium to capacity: “We had to squeeze everyone who didn't have room into the auditorium, into the corridors and right up to the main entrance!” A success as unexpected as it was resounding, under the stunned gaze of several hundred spectators, spellbound by the orchestra.

From the ashes of this first concert, Jean-Yves Quesnel - at the time a socio-cultural animator, then returning to his first love, teaching history - seized the opportunity and surrounded himself with a few natural allies among his colleagues, wanting the orchestra to resonate beyond the stage, by immortalizing it on tape. Fast forward a few weeks and the “Rocking Grass” becomes the “Phono Grass” as they team up with colleagues from Collège Edouard-Monpetit to invest in the college's studios and immortalize the aptly named 1001 est Crémazie.

“We hid a recorder in Benoit Sarrazin's piano (pianist on two tracks on the album) without him even knowing it. We just told him afterwards,” recalls a laughing Quesnel. Mr. Sarrazin, then a college professor, would himself become a professional pianist, eventually completing a doctorate in musicology.

“This record reflects the spirit of an era, the birth of modern Quebec, a renewed vitality,” recalls the producer, ‘the echoes of a Quiet Revolution, which was still rumbling and trying to be heard.’ It was therefore in phase with this pivotal moment in the Quebec ecosystem - which decompartmentalized the school system and gave birth to the Cégeps - that 1001 est Crémazie was born.”

This album is a bit of a mishmash of amateur enthusiasm, of course, but even more so, a cultural and social effervescence that frees itself from standards and leaves room for experimentation and a hitherto unsuspected creative dazzle. This has certainly contributed to the professional development of almost half of the personnel who took part in the recording of the album.

The album includes two original compositions, “Le roi muffé” and the highly acclaimed “Bright moments”, driven by an unusual combination of piano and conga, which found its way onto the Canadian Racer compilation, a jazz reference in the early 2000s. DJs and/or hip-hop aficionados were quick to appropriate and sample the percussive drum and conga solo into the skeletons of a few danceable tracks that set the mood on dance floors.

Now, fifty years and a few upside-down existences later, 1001 est Crémazie, originally printed in a run of 500 copies (now coveted by the most discerning collectors), has been given a facelift to offer itself to the public, much to the delight of the main man involved: “May you get all the pleasure out of this long game that they had recording it!” he says, just before interrupting the conversation to join a dinner party of friends in the company of former colleagues and students. “That's the power of music. Friendships that are nurtured and aged like fine wine!”

Cheers!