In memory of Taï-Luc, by Jean-Eric Perrin

La Souris Déglinguée held a special place in the hearts of the first skinhead generation of Paris, particularly those notorious kids from the Les Halles neighbourhood. They weren’t an Oi band, nor really a punk band either – but they were cut from the same cloth as their audience. La Souris Déglinguée were also a significant force in French rock ‘n’ roll in general. The passing of their vocalist, Taï-Luc, last Friday, with the news only surfacing yesterday, has left a profound void. In tribute to his memory, we present an obituary by Jean-Eric Perrin, a co-author of the band’s 2016 biography, Week-ends sauvages – La Souris déglinguée, 1981-1990.

One of a kind. A true street icon. A genuine rock ‘n’ roll hero. A role model. A poet of the mavericks. A philosopher of outcasts. Taï-Luc, who tragically left us on 1 December 2023, was worthy of such praise, but he was too modest to accept it. The truth is he should be rightfully bestowed the honour as leader of La Souris Déglinguée (“the fucked-up mouse”, aka LSD), the band he led for so many decades.

Born in 1958 on the outskirts of Paris to a French mother and a Vietnamese immigrant father, Taï-Luc Nguyen Tan moves from suburban town to suburban town, does well at school, and through his father, a devoted fan, gets hooked on rock ‘n’ roll. In the mid-seventies, he’s part of a small crew who reject the mainstream and devote themselves to the real thing: The Velvet Underground, the pioneers from the fifties (Eddie Cochan, Vince Taylor),The Stooges, then the Ramones. Because the punk needs early adopters, in march 1977 he travels to London, to lift his own curtain on the Sex Pistols, 999, The Jam and so on. More originally, due to family ties Taï-Luc gets to fly to San Francisco in July 1978 for vacations, which he spends hanging at the Mabuhay Garden, a lousy but seminal spot, actually an oriental restaurant with a stage welcoming the local punk scene. He sees The Dils, Crime, The Avengers…

Of course he has an electric guitar, and together with mates from school he forms a band in 1976. The first single by La Souris Déglinguée is out in 1979. The Parisian punk and post punk scene back then is mostly sons of the bourgeoisie: hype, short-lived bands, glossy magazines. Few bands come from the proletarian banlieues (big city outskirts), as LSD did.

1981 sees their first album. Twelve others would follow (plus some live, remixes and best-of comps), the last one in 2014. Always on indie labels. LSD never made money from music, sure. But they coined French rock history. Raunchy, straight to the point, raw energy, genuine and pure rock ‘n’ roll with traits of punk, rockabilly, country, ska, Oi, psychobilly, even some hip-hop and oriental stuff. A lot of songs become anthems. Taï-Luc’s lyrics were simple, common words, street poetry. They were talking of underdogs, rebellious youths, the working-class neighbourhoods – with choruses like football chants.

LSD immediately built a strong following among the urban tribes. At their riotous shows, you could find punks, redskins, anarchists, rockers, squatters, a smattering of boneheads and white nationalists among Magrhebin immigrants and Caribbean lads. Everybody felt than the little Eurasian guy was translating his feelings into words, and this way of talking to the crowd like he was one of them was unique. The more committed elements formed ‘La Raya’ – not really fan club, more of a cult, a devoted army, faithful through the years, unruly of course. They helped La Souris to live on through the eighties, nineties, and so on (with most of the band members keeping jobs on the side).

No airplay, no TV – except for unlikely but legendary appearance on a Sunday family show very popular in the eighties; a mythical show in a Parisian venue in 1981 which turned into a riot; another show in 2010 in a town ruled by the National Front, which came complete with a white supremacist opening band that kicked up some fuss (Taï-Luc never wanted to discriminate among his audience); tours all over the Far East and across France’s worst venues… The story of La Souris Déglinguée is a novel, a script for a Ken Loach movie that hasn’t been filmed yet.

Since the band wasn’t a day job, Taï-Luc pursued his studies, published a thesis about an ancient Asian language, and became a teacher in oriental languages at a Parisian university. In recent years, he added a pursuit when he took over a used bookstore along the banks of the Seine, in the heart of the city, selling mostly books on Asian culture and relevant documents, among a couple of vinyl records and rock fanzines. A daily outdoor job suited only for the truly passionate.

But even if the band ended its activities, Taï-Luc remained an idealised image of integrity – a sort of Dalai Lama of rock’n’roll, embodying its purest, strongest, rebel form. In 2015, for the 35th anniversary of the band, LSD played at the famous Olympia venue in the 9th arrondissement of Paris, with plenty of associates, friends and bands, to a sold-out venue breeming with punks, Hells Angels, skins, and assorted survivors from society’s margins. Not many teenagers for sure, but once again a heterogenous mix of all the urban tribes.

Taï-Luc left the building last Friday, aged 65, mourned by legions of fans tattooed for life with the songs he wrote and sung. In 2007, he published his only solo album, Jukebox, a bunch of covers of the Velvet (four of them), Hank Williams, and some French torch songs from the forties. A man of taste and knowledge, Taï-Luc won’t be forgotten – he left a trace of sincerity and electricity for the ages.

Jean-Eric Perrin, 4 December 2023

Week-ends sauvages – La Souris Déglinguée 1981-1990 is available from Serious Publishing.