As soon as I landed in Porquerolles, I was totally immersed in a jazzy atmosphere with the rhythm of cicadas, and the festival started in such a hurry. After a delicious light supper at the Oustaou, just enough to swing without falling asleep thanks to an adapted formula, the band of Krakens musicians lands in the streets of the village with a fanfare and starts playing devilishly catchy melodies to guide the crowd towards the Fort Sainte-Agathe, a sign that the first concert will soon begin... So, we follow them, clap our hands, dance, among strangers and we're already having fun. Then, after a short climb on the Provençal rock face and under the umbrella pines, we finally arrive at the Fort Sainte Agathe, a superb vestige of the 16th century, where a scene thrones under a huge tree, all lit by soft and colourful lights. The cicadas are silent. It's dusk. The spectators are already there in large numbers, you have to find a place. It will be in the background, too bad, but we can see well and the notes reach us without difficulty, the place is so intimate and the sound quality is high. First part: Sibongile Mbambo, a South African singer from Cape Town. It's his first festival. Curiosity. Sweet voice, outfit and make-up typical of his Xhosa ethnic group, songs in his dialectal language. There's no doubt about it, we're in South Africa and here she is taking us on a singing tour of this faraway country whose "xenophobia" she denounces, a xenophobia we knew nothing about, that of black South Africans towards immigrants from neighbouring African countries. Then, she becomes the standard-bearer for the miners who work very hard to extract gold in her native country for a miserable wage. In the end, it's a success, Bravo Sibongilé. Come in. Pink pause, relax. Back to the show. Jacky Terrasson, the virtuoso pianist, takes his place accompanied by his musicians. He plays with his back to the audience, forcing the spectator to concentrate only on the sound of his piano, so many universes follow one another, from cover to cover, between jazzy and Caribbean rhythms, he surprises us with each piece. Unexpected, funny, mischievous. He doesn't miss one for the happiness of our ears. When suddenly a contemporary dancer arrives, who blends into the notes with rhythmic, jerky movements, like a disarticulated doll, one reaches a higher artistic level. Some kind of musical hypnosis. Besides, it's already over, we have to go back and not miss the last shuttle to Hyères. Porquerolles no longer has a single bed available. Too bad, we would have stayed for the after-party. Some other time

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