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This week. Different years. Same band. 30 years on stage. Brussels based. Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks live backstage. Soundchecks echo. Flyers promise things. Someone doodles in a notebook.
1998–1999 Brussels. Tienen. First rooms. Cobblestones under the door.
2005–2006 Mulhouse. Songs described in long sentences: rock, chanson, ska, Balkan brass. Explosive cultures, apparently.
2007 Amsterdam. Paradiso. Spotlights on the bass. Drums waiting. Hamburger philosophy backstage.
2011–2015 Zürich. Eeklo. Guestbooks signed. Crowds dancing. Anti-war backdrops behind the horns.
2018 Köln. Ladders on stage. Radio trucks outside. Soundcheck becomes broadcast.
2019 Another town. Another door opening.
Posters fade. Cobblestones stay.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
In de rustige ruis van een kamer, tussen het gewicht van een hand op een knop en het flikkeren van een scherm, krijgt geluid zijn definitieve vorm.
Hier krijgt de rode draad van het nieuwe album zijn laatste vorm voordat het zich aan jou zal tonen.
De eerste single komt uit op 27 maart.
Luister in tussentijd naar de vorm van wat er gaat komen.
Mastering door Uwe Teichert bij Elektropolis.
This week. Different years. Same band. 30 years on stage. Brussels based. Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks feel like call and response. A finger pointed. A crowd answers. A letter arrives years later. Same gestures. Same insistence. Music as invitation.
2003 Brussels. A festival brochure tries to explain the sound. It almost gets there.
2005 Songs revisit their own city. Old words. New ears.
2011 Fan mail crosses the night sky. Moon metaphors. Big feelings. No irony.
2015 Stages indoors. Stages outside. Cold hands. Warm voices.
2016 Gent. Eyes wide. Megaphones out. Sing with us, or don’t. But don’t stand still.
2023 Brussels. Music meets speeches. Bodies gather. Accordions wait their turn.
2024 Reviews travel again. Borders stay open on paper.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
This week. Different years. Same band.
30 years on stage. Brussels based.
Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks feel like being asked questions
and answering them with sound.
After the gig.
Backstage.
In the booth.
On the street again.
2000–2002
Bornem. Dranouter. Gent. Antwerp.
Early rooms.
Dance floors learning the steps.
2004
Waregem.
Notes sharpened.
Edges tested.
2007
Delft. Lübeck. Hamburg.
Flyers stack up.
Reviews argue. Baclavas
appear.
Trumpets still win.
2008
Koblenz.
Another room.
Same breath.
2012
Leuven.
Interview lights on.
Music still ringing in the ears.
2018
Europeana in the studio.
Pedals in a line.
Listening harder than playing.
2019–2020
Questions return.
Who plays.
Why it matters.
Everyone gets to join.
2025
Hasselt.
Crowd in silhouette.
Letters carried inside.
One last gig with a friend.
Soundcheck before the lights.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
This week. Different years. Same band. 30 years on stage. Brussels based. Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks feel like continuity with extra voices. Hands change instruments. People move in and out. The sound keeps learning. Different line-ups. Same pulse. Music built to travel.
2004 Brussels. Barricade in the room. Listening back. Trying again. Tubas where you don’t expect them.
2009 Belsele. Stuttgart. Sweat, blur, brass. Songs pushed forward by breath.
2019 Winds in the room. New versions find their weight.
2025 Gent. Crowds closer. Phones up. Megaphones out. Same joy, louder reach.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
This week. Different years. Same band. 30 years on stage. Brussels based. Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks feel like studio air. Glass between rooms. Cables on the floor. Jokes in the booth. Sweat on stage, later. Notes are pointed at. Sounds are tried. Nothing stays still for long.
1999 Enschede. University rooms fill. Conversations across borders.
2004 Brussels. Studio Caraïbes. Barricade takes shape. Accordions arrive. Kids press buttons. Signs say “Do not feed”. Nobody listens.
2005 Munich. After the gig. Fans on stage. Posters argue outside.
2007 London. Copenhagen. Lübeck. Trumpets face each other. Walls talk back.
2008 Husum. Drums pushed hard. No dryness left.
2009 Koningshooikt. Kolektiv. Bass clarinet through monitors. Shakers find their mic.
2019 A review crosses time. Ink still warm.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
Rockpop with slaps on the cheeks.
Ik en den Theo / Moi et le Théo play a concert for the 3th and 4th grade of primary school VBS De Klinker in Rotselaar.
This week. Different years. Same band. 30 years on stage. Brussels based. Jaune Toujours.
Some weeks feel like a relay. A drawing passed hand to hand. A flyer on a wall. A radio mic switching on. Stages built, torn down, rebuilt somewhere else.
1998–1999 Winterfolk. Leuven. Cold outside. Warm rooms.
2003 Recycl’art. Noise recycled into dance.
2006 Bochum. German national radio. Live. No safety net.
2007 Schaerbeek. GC De Kriekelaar. Local crowd. Global ears.
2014 Germany again. Kassel. Bremerhaven. Backstage benches. Front-of-stage heat.
2016 Vorst. New Year’s outside. Music as meeting point.
2019 Enghien. Lines on paper. Sound between them.
Dates stack up. Styles shift. The week keeps returning.
Different places. Same week, stretched across time. We don’t archive the past. We carry it. Still playing. Still moving. Still open to the next room.
Behind the scenes with Canadian poet and novelist Nyla Matuk, during our shoot for her video portrait for Passa Porta, International House of Literature in Brussels.
Sarah enjoys these shoots, but for different reasons each time. Sometimes an interview feeds her own work, sometimes she is simply in awe, sometimes there’s a shared sense of mischievous humour in the room.
This time Sarah learned a great deal, in conversations that unfolded both on and off camera, guided by Nyla’s mix of depth, generosity and ease. An author whose work moves with precision along the line where the aesthetic meets the political.
3'Ain was selected to play their showcase at Folk Alliance in New Orleans. Here is why they didn't go After all.