Buck 65 - 20 Odd Years - out on WEA Music
Buck 65 - 20 Odd Years
(CD/LP/Digital) WEA Music, 2011-02-01
Buck 65 If you travel along the Number 1 highway (two lanes) in Nova Scotia, you'll pass through a town called Mt. Uniacke. As you enter the town, you'll see a sign that reads, "Home Of Buck 65". Buck 65 is the code name of one Ricardo Terfry. He used to wander the dirt roads of Mt. Uniacke wearing an Adidas one-piece wrestling outfit. He thought it gave him hip hop credibility, but he was wrong. He started DJing and rapping at the same time, when he was approximately 13 years of age. In 1990, he shared his work with the public for the first time. Since then, he has released more than 20 full-length albums and all kinds of EPs, singles and whatnot. He has also scored a handful of films (including one x-rated feature). He has recorded with Tortoise (post-rock muscular geniuses), Gonzales (the world's greatest living musician), Sage Francis (indie hip hop overlord) and god-knows-who-else. Name an important festival or event and there's a good 70% chance he's played it. The latest addition to Buck 65's awe-inspiring oeuvre is an album called 20 Odd Years. It features guest appearances by Gord Downie, Nick Thorburn, Jenn Grant, Hannah Georgas, Emily Wells, Marie-Pierrie Arthur and more. 20 Odd Years is probably the most beautiful hip hop album ever made.
Buck 65 - 20 Odd Years
(CD/LP/Digital) WEA Music, 2011-02-01
01. Superstars Don't Love
02. Gee Whiz feat. Nick Thorburn
03. Whispers Of The Waves feat. Gord Downie
04. Paper Airplane feat. Jenn Grant
05. Stop feat. Hannah Georgas
06. Zombie Delight
07. Tears Of Your Heart feat. Olivia Ruiz
08. Cold Steel Drum feat. Jenn Grant
09. Who By Fire feat. Jenn Grant
10. She Said Yes
11. BCC feat. John Southworth
12. Lights Out
13. Final Approach feat. Marie-Pierre Arthur
nin-ninrose.com/ (Promo France)
Buck 65 "Zombie Delight"
Buck 65 "Zombie Delight" Behind-The-Scenes
Buck 65 - "Whispers of the Waves ft/ Gord Downie" - Unofficial
Buck 65 "Wicked and Weird"
Info from the artist :
Today is the big day. I've done this about two dozen times now, but it's always a thrill and it always makes me nervous. This 20 Odd Years thing has been a labor of love. I hammered away on it for a long time. It was fun to make, and I couldn't have done it without the help of my amazing friends.
With this new record, I take a quick glance over my shoulder and look back on twenty years of searching for an invisible something. I'm not even sure what it is. Having come this far, I'm not even close. Much ground has been covered and progress has been made, but I have a long way to go. Whether you've been with me from the beginning or are just joining me on this hunt now, thanks for being here. I can promise you that unless my legs give out, we'll do this again to mark a quarter century and the big 5-0. No rest for the wicked (and/or weird), I've already set off again. I'm writing like there's no tomorrow and running for my life.
Lots more to come, including videos for “Zombie Delight”, “Paper Airplane” and more. Until then, I really hope you like this one.
Press Release :
I recorded a song back in 1990 called “The Rhyme Has To Be Good”. I made the beat, rapped and did the scratches all myself. I began teaching myself how to do those things several years before, secretly, in the privacy of my bedroom. I grew up in a small rural town called Mt. Uniacke in Nova Scotia and none of my friends were interested in hip hop music. Ironically – given the title – that first song isn't very good at all. But we all have to start somewhere.
“The Rhyme Has To Be Good” got played on the college radio station in the city (Halifax) a few times and soon I started meeting other rappers and DJs. In the early days, it was mostly about performing – in living rooms, at dances, on the radio, in the woods, on roofs or wherever. I was never the most talented guy around, but it was a huge passion and I took it all very seriously – even when I was acting like a goofball. A few years later, the focus turned to recording. Through the 90's I recorded countless songs with friends and on my own. For most of those years my efforts went unheard outside my hometown and sadly, a lot of those recordings have been lost.
Toward the end of the decade (around 1997 or so) I began to find an international audience and a place in a wider underground community with the help of the internet. Small independent labels with names like Four Ways To Rock, Hand Solo and Anticon began to offer help. By 2000, I had a career on my hands. Music became my sole means of income. Somehow I managed to find my way around the world and pay off my student loans. My wildest dreams had come true.
Then, in 2002, after 12 years of independent hustle, I signed a big time record deal with Warner and moved to France. Since then I've worked with musicians from all over the world – some with big names, some with no name at all. And I've continued to work with my old friends from my hometown too.
For a while now, people have been saying that the music I make doesn't exactly sound like hip hop. I think that's partly because I often hear hip hop where other people might not. Sometimes I hear it in pre-war blues songs. I hear it in albums like New Values by Iggy Pop or Is This Desire? by PJ Harvey. I hear it in experimental recordings by William S. Burroughs or minstrel songs by Emmett Miller. It's a curse.
My newest collection of songs is called 20 Odd Years. This time around I went back to the formula that worked so well on Talkin' Honky Blues – I returned to Halifax to build some songs – from the ground up – with my friends Charles Austin and Graeme Campbell. We also called in a bunch of friends to contribute vocals. Plus, I recorded a song with my old pal Jo Run, who I've worked with since the early days. It's a strange thing for me to consider, but there aren't many people who were on the hip hop scene in 1990 who are still here today. I've seen a lot of talented people come and go in my time. I have no idea why I've lasted when so many others have not. I guess that's up to you to decide. But despite my best efforts, I've never been trendy and maybe that's had something to do with it.
Twenty years seems like a long time but the thought of slowing down or ‘hanging it up' has not even crossed my mind. Will I still be at it when I'm 50 years old? I guarantee you that I will. There may not always be an audience, but that didn't stop me in the beginning...
Hello. I'm Buck 65 and this is my bio...
I was born with the name Ricardo Terfry. Where I come from, it's common when a boy is named after his father, for the father to refer to the son as 'Buck'. I don't know where that comes from or when it started. It might be a 'out-in-the-country' thing. Growing up I knew lots of sons who were referred to as 'Buck'. Sometimes even if they weren't juniors. So the joke became, I was number 65 of countless 'Bucks' in my town.
I also get asked all the time, "how would you describe your sound?" I don't have a good answer for that either. I could say "hip hop", but a lot of people would disagree with that. Why would they? Well, best I can figure is that it's a very conservative genre and my take on it is very liberal, to say the least.
I've long argued that the roots of hip hop music go all the way back to folk and blues – even minstrel music that pre-dates the birth of both those genres (take a listen to a song called 'The Gypsy' by Emmett Miller to see where I'm coming from, for example). But I can understand how that could be seen as an unpopular and controversial idea. Also, I have a broad definition of the genre that includes a lot of records most others probably wouldn't include.
Hip hop (and especially the teachings and ideals of Afrika Bambaataa) is very important to what I do. But maybe in fairness, it should be seen as some kind of starting point for me. I write songs on a wide variety of topics – many of which are not common ones in hip hop, admittedly. When writing a song, considerations of hip hop or street credibility never cross my mind. That being the case, no point of view, emotion, or instrumentation is off-limits for me. If I find an idea, memory, or emotion interesting enough to want to write about it, I just try to turn that into music in as clear and honest a way as possible. There have been cases where that's meant being very un-macho and putting a banjo player to work (both decidedly anti-hip hop notions, generally speaking).
I'm a big music fan. I have a massive record collection. And there's no kind of music I'm not interested in. We all fall under the influence of artists we admire and respect. I'm no different. I worship Bambaataa, Townes Van Zandt, Leonard Cohen, Captain Beefheart, Skip James, Johnny Cash, Iggy Pop, Radiohead, Jacques Brel, Serge Gainsbourg, David Lynch, Egon Shiele and countless others. But I try as hard as I can to carve out my own place confidently and leave those influences behind when putting the pen to paper or entering the studio or stepping onto stage (I can't claim to have been 100% successful in that so far...).
I don't think these ideas should make me special in any kind of way. But it seems that my path has taken me to a place I inhabit alone. This being the case, classification, understanding, and even finding an audience has been a challenge. But I don't do what I do for the sake of an audience. I don't make songs to make money or to become famous. I do this because I can't seem to help it. I've been doing this since I was a kid. For most of the years I've been doing this, I haven't had an audience. And I'll be doing this when I'm an old man (if I make it that far), even if there is no audience left. I can't explain what I get out of this (granted, making a living doing this is great and all...), but I know for sure that I need to do it.
I'm lucky enough to know many talented musicians and I work with people who can help me make good songs whenever possible. So far, that's run the gamut from some of the greatest turntablists ever (D-Styles, Skratch Bastid), to classically trained musicians (members of the Chicago Symphony, Gonzales, etc.), to gifted folk musicians from my own back yard (Old Man Luedecke, Al Tuck, etc.). It's always a question of what's best for the song (and who answers the phone).
So what do you call songs like Indestructible Sam, the French version of Devil's Eyes, Lil' Taste Of Poland or Kennedy Killed The Hat? I certainly don't know. I don't think they belong in the same genre together...Does it even make sense for one person to express themselves in such a wide spectrum of ways? Personally, I think it makes less sense to express oneself in the same way all the time. And I know for a fact, from experience, that I'm no more complicated than anyone else.
So I guess what I'm saying is that I make music for myself. But if other people like it, that's wonderful and I appreciate the support and encouragement.
continued (for nerds only)...
Since I first wrote the bio you see above, I've had a few epiphanies. I think these are important pieces of information to add. And I will continue to add to this bio as things continue to make sense to me.
First, it's important to consider where I come from to understand my 'music'. That's just common sense, really...
I've heard it said by elders who were dismissing 'weird' hip hop (like mine), while upholding the honor of the original spirit of New York City hip hop, that it was always CLUB music. I understand and appreciate this. It's undeniably obvious that most of the earliest hip hop records were essentially disco with rapping. It was dance music. Party music. And in those early days, the club and dances and parties were where the music came to life. So that whole culture was central to hip hop. And in many of the big cities, that's still true. A lot has changed in hip hop over the years, but some things have stayed the same. And one big thing is that the guys on top rule the club.
I grew up on a dirt road in a very isolated part of the world. In my town we had a post office, and that's about it. There was no club - not for miles around. And if you did travel to find a club (which I didn't), most of them (in my part of the world) probably weren't playing hip hop records.
Given the time and place, I figure I was among the first to be part of a new wave that was hidden for a long time, still isn't recognized widely, and may never be (I'd be very surprised to read a hip hop history book that talks about Anticon or even music from outside the USA)... the bedroom hip hopper.
There was no club. I was pretty much the only person in my hometown who was at all interested in hip hop. It made me an outsider. It made me the object of scorn at times. So for me, the domain was always the dark corner. It was music for weirdos. Being a hip hopper didn't make me popular - quite the opposite.
So, looking for music that I could relate to (all thinking people do this - others look for fantasy and escape-ism), I gravitated toward the stranger and darker stuff. I was looking for other weirdos with whom I could identify. I think that's why I always did and still do have an affinity for the instrumental and DJ driven side of hip hop. There aren't words to guide me somewhere I don't want to go. The first song that really made me lose my mind was 'Rockit' by Herbie Hancock and DST. When I listen to that song, there's some pretty weird stuff going on in my imagination. And it was always a plus for me that the video for the song was so bizarre as well...
Another area that's been a tricky area for me is credibility. Often in hip hop, there is talk of street credibility. I admit I'm empty handed in this area. Again, I grew up on a dirt road. So I've always interpreted it as a matter of authenticity and honesty. If you come from the streets and it's what you know, talk about it. If you don't, don't pretend that you do. I talk about where I come from and my own experiences. But what happens is that sometimes one gets the sense that the unwritten rule is that there's only one reality that matters in hip hop - and that's the street, or ghetto life, or what have you...
I can understand that, but only to a certain extent. Here's the problem: what about hip hop from Italy? From China? From Mali? Do kids in these parts of the world have the right to express themselves through hip hop? It's hard for me to swallow the idea that some people should not 'be allowed' to participate. But ask yourself why hip hop made outside the US almost never breaks on US soil. And if it does, what does it take?
When I hear rappers from Russia imitate New York rappers, I don't like it either. It's embarrassing. But when I hear Brazilian hip hop that uses traditional Brazilian sounds and the rappers are doing their thing in Portuguese, it's thrilling (to me). I think that's a greater victory for the artform than someone winning a Grammy or going platinum.
So again, I think authenticity is important. But having said that, if someone is truly gifted, but perhaps a little misguided, I think art should still be an open door for them...
In my opinion, hip hop is most vital and interesting in the other disciplines. Look at what's happening in DJing and b-boying or even graf. It's so much more international and (I think) so much richer for it.
Art. I believe in art. I guess there are people out there who think the only good painting is what has come out of the Netherlands and that's it. But most of us can agree that the idea is silly. I get excited about new ideas in art - building art, destroying art - no matter where it comes from. I can say the same about hip hop and this is certainly what motivates me.
I don't live on a dirt road anymore. I live in a big city. I have lived in many cities around the world and have spent time in many more. I'm not a kid anymore. I've had experiences and have learned a lot about music and art. Much of who I am and what I've become as an adult has come from books I've read. What does that mean in terms of my authenticity? Is there a place for all that in my work now? Is there something artistically invalid about applying something I learned in a book about a thinker/artist/musician from a distant time and place?
I've considered that this might be something of a Canadian idea. The joke about Canadians is that we have no culture of our own. I appreciate the importance of a blues musician from West Texas keeping his regional traditions alive. But as I said in 'Blood of a Young Wolf', "I ain't got no culture, nothin'...". I just have a lens. A window. A mirror. A bookshelf. That's where I'm coming from. Take it or leave it...
More to come...
Ever since I started making music and thinking at all about reaching some kind of audience, I've tried to find a "back door" (I'm still doing it). I have always had enough sense to know that I was never going to"make it" working any of the traditional channels. So what it has always come down to is trying to find a champion - an influential someone to fight for the cause of my ideas. I've found some fans in high places through the years. But I still haven't really found the champion for which I have always been hoping.
Any and all champions were (and still are) welcome. But I've always had my secret and strategically chosen wish list. The first one I can remember having was Paper Magazine and specifically the founders of the magazine, Kim Hastreister and David Hershkovits. I started buying the magazine right around the end of the '80's and always thought that it had it's finger the essence of something I identified with and wanted to be a part of.It's always been smart, artistically savvy, sexy and fun. It captured the best part of a city I loved because it was the city that gave birth to hip hop - I'm talking about New York of course (Paper can be perhaps most easily described as a New York City style guide with a real focus on the downtown scene). My favorite writer at the magazine was always Glen O'Brien who always seemed to have the most impeccable taste and was always surrounded by the most interesting people (I've had dreams at night of being a guest on his old cable show TV Party).
The first time I ever went to New York, I found the address of Paper's HQ.I walked there and just stood outside for a long time. I had demo tape sin my pockets all ready to go, but I never got up the gumption to make my way inside. After a while, I just walked away. I've now had many moments in my life I look back on and wish I had've just done or said something.
It was a huge thrill for me, years later, when Paper ran a little piece about me. I think it was a half page or so. It never turned into anything more. I never became one of those faces or names you see in the magazine on a regular basis. But I still dream about it a little,admittedly.
By the time I found myself living in New York City back in 2004, my day-dream champion was the fashion designer Helmut Lang. One day I came out of my apartment on Lafayette Street and he was standing right there - right outside my door! I couldn't believe it.And guess what I did... Nothing. Again. We made eye contact. My brain exploded. I said nothing. I walked away.
The same thing happened when I was younger and all my dreams were wrapped up in baseball. It's a great story, but a long one. I'll save it for another day.
I still dream of champions and secretly choose new ones all the time. And I still find myself standing outside the door...
Biography (french) :
Les événements de l'année 1957 ont été à l'origine d'un héritage qui influence toujours notre manière de vivre et de penser 50 ans plus tard.
1957 marque, pour ainsi dire, le début de la culture de la jeunesse rebelle. Mais c'est surtout l'année où le rock & roll s'est imposé auprès du grand public. Il existait déjà auparavant, bien entendu, mais c'est en 1957 que des artistes tels qu'Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, Gene Vincent (à savoir : des blancs) ont connu leur premiers succès. Le rock & roll commence alors à envahir les ondes et les classements des meilleures ventes de musique populaire évinçant les Perry Como, Pat Boone et autres Dean Martin. C'est cette année là que le film (et la chanson) ‘Jailhouse Rock‘ d'Elvis sont sor- tis et ont fait sensation.
C'est également en 1957 que la ‘Beat Generation' a émergé. C'est effectivement cette année là que ‘Sur la Route' a été publié et que ‘Howl' a été saisi. La Beat Generation a été la voix d'une jeunesse lasse et rebelle à la recherche d'émo- tions fortes qu'elle espère trouver en adoptant un style de vie plus libre (sexe et drogue). Même si elle a été associée au jazz (le be bop en particulier), les images et les idées de la Beat Generation correspondaient parfaitement au rock & roll.
Il est intéressant de noter que c'est aussi cette année là que Betty Page disparaît en se retirant de la vie publique au summum de sa popularité, alors qu'elle était condamnée pour obscénités et accusée de problèmes de délinquance juvénile. La société américaine s'insurge contre la menace des cultures underground et déviantes. C'est la panique. Des mesures sont prises depuis les plus hautes sphères gouvernementales américaines.
1957 est l'année où les graines de la guerre froide ont été plantées. L'URSS lance Sputnik et Sputnik 2. Les Etats-Unis mènent les premiers essais nucléaires et ouvrent la première grande centrale nucléaire à Pittsburgh. La paranoïa s'ac- centue.
C'est aussi l'année où le Grand Timonier Mao met en place le Grand Saut en Avant.
En Italie, 1957 est l'année de la formation de l'internationale situationniste. Selon les situationnistes il faut utiliser les idées derrière le dadaïsme et le surréalisme comme des forces pour déclencher un changement politique. Les situation- nistes ont influencé deux événements majeurs : d'une part, les manifestations étudiantes de mai 1968 et d'autre part, les Sex Pistols, formation managée par Malcom MacLaren, qui lui-même avait été un membre des SI alors qu'il était jeune étudi- ant, et applique ce qu'il y a appris à une ‘situation' dénommée les Sex Pistols.
La seule année ayant connu un phénomène de société similaire depuis 1957 a été, vingt ans plus tard, 1977 avec l'émergence du mouvement punk et des Sex Pistols (mais vu que le punk cherchait essentiellement à restituer l'esprit original du rock & roll, pouvait-il réellement avoir le même impact que le concept d'origine ?). Précisons d'ailleurs que Sid Vicious est né en 1957 et que les Sex Pistols se sont séparés en 1977 – l'année de la mort d'Elvis !
Bien que nous ne soyons guère susceptibles de revivre une révolution culturelle de la même envergure que celle de 1957, nous y avons été préparés. On nous a présentés la perspective de l'émergence d'une personne – ou d'un groupe – exprimant des idées si nouvelles, radicales et dangereuses au point de transformer le monde à jamais, comme une éventualité des plus excitantes. Nous avons été préparés à ce qu'un phénomène similaire à celui qui s'est déroulé en 1957 puisse se produire à nouveau. Cinquante ans plus tard, il est intéressant de se pencher sur cette idée et de nous demander ce qui a et ce qui n'a pas changé.
BUCK 65 A PROPOS DE SON NOUVEL ALBUM SITUATION
Salut. Je suis Buck 65 et voici ma bio...
Je suis né sous le nom de Ricardo Terfry. Mais dès ma naissance mon père a commencé à m'appeler Buck 65. J'ignore pour quelles raisons. Je vous assure que c'est vrai. Des tas d'histoires ont été inventées sur les origines de ce nom, dont certaines par moi-même. Mais en fait ce n'était guère que des mensonges car j'en avais ras-le-bol de cette éternelle question sur les origines de mon nom. Et à dire vrai, je n'en sais rien moi-même.
On me demande aussi régulièrement de décrire mon son, ce que je suis incapable de faire. Je pourrais parler de “hip hop”, mais ce qualificatif ne convient pas à tout le monde. Pourquoi? Et bien j'imagine que parce que c'est un genre très conservateur en quelque sorte et que je l'aborde très librement, c'est le moins que l'on puisse dire.
J'ai expliqué maintes fois que les racines du hip hop remontent jusqu'au folk et au blues – même jusqu'à la musique des ménestrels, qui a précédé la naissance de ces deux genres (écoutez, par exemple, une chanson intitulée ‘The Gypsy' d'Emmett Miller pour voir ce dont je veux parler). Mais je peux comprendre pour quelles raisons cette manière de voir les choses peut être discutable et impopulaire. Il faut dire aussi que j'envisage ce genre dans un sens très large qui inclut plein de disques que la plupart des gens ne range vraisemblablement pas dans cette catégorie.
Le hip hop (et plus particulièrement les enseignements et les idéaux défendus par Afrika Bambaataa) occupe une place importante dans mon travail. Mais peut-être qu'en toute impartialité, il faudrait considérer que c'est pour moi une sorte de point de départ. J'écris des chansons sur des tas de sujets – dont la plupart ne sont pas fréquemment abordés dans le hip hop, il faut bien l'avouer. Lorsque j'écris une chanson, je ne me pose pas la question de savoir si elle est crédible par rapport à la scène hip hop ou à la rue. Cela étant, il n'y a pas pour moi de notions, d'émotions ou d'instrumentations qui soient interdites. Si j'ai une idée, une émotion, un souvenir qui me semble suffisamment intéressant pour avoir envie d'en parler, j'essaye simplement de mettre cela en musique aussi clairement et sincèrement que possible. Dans certains cas, cela peut m'amener à tenir des propos profondément anti-machiste ou à ajouter un banjo à un moment donné (deux façons de faire qui sont, en général, considérées comme résolument anti-hip hop).
Je suis un grand fan de musique. J'ai une collection de disque énorme et je m'intéresse à tous les styles de musique. Nous sommes tous influencés par des artistes que nous admirons et respectons et je ne fais pas exception. J'adore Bambaataa, Townes Van Zandt, Leonard Cohen, Captain Beefheart, Skip James, Johnny Cash, Iggy Pop, Radiohead, Jacques Brel, Serge Gainsbourg, David Lynch, Egon Shiele et une multitude d'autres. Mais, lorsque j'écris, que je rentre en studio ou que je monte sur scène, je fais mon maximum pour me créer mon propre univers et laisser ses influences derrière moi (même si on ne peut pas dire que jusqu'à présent cela ait à chaque fois fonctionné à 100%...).
Je ne pense pas que ce que je viens de dire à mon sujet fasse de moi quelqu'un de spécial d'une façon ou d'une autre. Mais je crois que mon chemin m'emmène vers un endroit unique. Cela étant, j'ai parfois été victime des critères de classification habituels et j'ai rencontré quelques difficultés à être compris et trouver un public. Pourtant je ne fais pas ce métier juste pour le public. Je n'écris pas des chansons pour gagner de l'argent ou pour devenir célèbre. Je fais ce métier parce que c'est plus fort que moi, je crois que je ne peux pas m'en empêcher. Je fais cela depuis que je suis gamin. La plupart du temps, à
l'époque, je n'avais pas le moindre public pour s'intéresser à ce que je faisais. Et je continuerai à en faire autant lorsque je serai un vieil homme (si je suis encore de ce monde), même si je n'ai plus de public. Je suis incapable d'expliquer ce que cela m'apporte (Ok le fait de pouvoir gagner sa vie de cette façon c'est vraiment génial...), mais je sais très bien que j'en ai besoin.
J'ai la chance de connaître plein de musiciens talentueux et de travailler avec des gens qui peuvent m'aider à concocter des bonnes chansons. Jusqu'à présent j'ai collaboré avec quelques grosses pointures aux platines (comme D-Styles, Skratch Bastid), des musiciens de formation classique (des membres du Chicago Symphony, Gonzales, etc.) ou des musiciens folk talentueux
(Old Man Luedecke, Al Tuck, etc.). Tout ce qui nous cherchons à savoir c'est ce qui colle le mieux dans la chanson (et qui répond au téléphone).
Alors comment peut-on qualifier des chansons comme Indestructible Sam, la version française de Devil's Eyes, Lil' Taste Of Poland ou Kennedy Killed The Hat? Je n'en ai pas la moindre idée, je ne pense pas qu'on puisse les classer dans la même catégorie...
Est-ce normal qu'une seule personne s'exprime dans un si large éventail de styles ? Personnellement, les gens qui s'expriment toujours de la même façon tout le temps me paraissent plus inquiétants. Et je sais, par expérience, que je ne suis pas plus compliqué que les autres.
J'imagine donc que cela veut dire que je fais de la musique pour moi. Mais si d'autres gens l'apprécient c'est génial et je suis heureux de me sentir soutenu et encouragé.
Voilà, c'est tout.