The white motorway, the swimming pool on Sundays, the Mont Saint Michel… all come into play, Cyril Cyril waves the snow globe, Helvet underground as they are called. Cyril Cyril’s Sunday is a trance, we arrive, people gather. The vocal samples, hesitate, moan a little, Miami Beach, OK let’s go.
Of all the Cyriles born in the city of Calvin at the dawn of the 1980s, these two were bound to meet.A muezzin without borders, Cyril Yeterian arrived in the dishevelled world via Mama Rosin, a three-piece that stirred the ghosts of the deviant bayou on the sweaty Mardi Gras of some electric Louisiana. Soon […]Read more