Want to have some fun? Repetitive, saturated with rhythms and synthetic sounds, techno music had its heyday from the mid-1980s to the 1990s, before disappearing for a good decade. Today it is attracting a new generation, particularly during evenings organized inside old factories, hangars or warehouses.
Tonight’s two-part documentary offers an opportunity to discover this festive scene through three complementary perspectives: that of star DJ Anetha, who has just released her first album; by Kamil Boudjemai, artistic director of BNK, a specialist company founded by his friend Bryan Moriconi; and Romain, “active member of the nightlife.” They all have in common their love for urban architecture.
Anetha even thought of becoming an architect for a long time. Until she graduated, the techno evenings she mixed were just for fun, a passion born from contact with her parents, pioneers of techno music, who always encouraged her.
On the other side of the decks
We meet her in Bordeaux. An impeccably coiffed brunette with a demure look, she lives in an architect’s house, “an obvious choice for me”, she says. Before following her with her suitcase to Lyon, where she will perform a “set” from 3 a.m. to 5 a.m. in the old Fagor factory.
Another place, but same industrial past, in Nanterre. “I have always had a passion for hangars,” laughs Kamil Boudjemai, 24, who we will accompany throughout the preparations for a BNK warehouse. This time, the countdown lasts ten days, time to look back on their first evening as organizers: “We did everything we shouldn’t have done,” begins Kamil Boudjemai… The “party” ends in riot, with “ACAB” (initials of “All Cops Are Bastards”, “all cops are bastards”) and chases… Kamil and Bryan will, however, persevere, supported by Kamil’s father (he has since worked with them at searching for sites and securing them).
In Marseille, Romain embodies the other side of the decks. Employed in the medico-social sector, he deals with “reducing the risks of drug use”. But, on party nights, he allows himself everything: makeup, glitter, “products”. “The warehouses clearly helped me accept my position as a suburban queer,” he says casually, even if the suffering shows through the humor.
He too must prepare, before going to La Cartonnerie de la Belle-de-Mai, where the Seita tobacco factory was located until 1990. “A place that is dear to me,” he said. Judiciously, the mixing of images from the old production line with techno sound actually shows to what extent their rhythms fit together.
