"Five years ago, when I chose it, the naivety of the name fit me perfectly," he says. "That's not the case anymore. But it wouldn't be wise, of course, to change it."
And the name has another disadvantage. "I am The Bony King; it's not a band, as a lot of people seem to think." But, he quickly adds, "I am always working with the same people. They're friends, not hirelings."
Though popular in the Flemish alt-rock scene, Vanparys is a down-to-earth guy. "I don't see my music as art or anything special," he says. "That's why I put a tedious picture of myself on the cover. I have no pretension at all with my music." He chuckles. "I just like doing it; it's a necessity even. But that's where it stops."
But, surely, he knows that his songs affect people. "This might sound weird or apathetic, but that's not the reason why I make music. Don't get me wrong - knowing that a song of mine occupies a special place in someone's life is the biggest compliment I can get. But I don't make music for others. I write the songs without pondering about what I'm doing. And subsequently, they exist."
The lyrics of three songs are printed in the CD's liner notes. "They're not necessarily my favourite songs, but I found it important that everyone could follow what I'm singing in those songs. Although now I regret not putting all the lyrics in there."
These three songs deal with, respectively, a father, a lover and a mother. In its entirety, Eleonore breathes domesticity, without (mind you!) being corny. The songs radiate a warm lustre. "I like being home," Vanparys acknowledges. "It's the place where I can be alone and, in all tranquillity, can write my songs. As a songwriter, I get comments constantly - at concerts but also when I'm just walking down the street. I like that, but it also increases the need to seclude myself sometimes."
After finishing Eleonore half a year ago, Vanparys started working on the soundtrack for Les géants, a new film by Walloon director Bouli Lanners. The singer-songwriter stayed on the set for a week. "The shooting took place on the banks of a river in the Ardennes, and the environment strongly inspired me," he says. "I lingered and wrote some music on the spot: a few songs and short instrumental pieces." Writing the latter is not as big a change as it might seem. "I write loads and loads of small sketches; they're done in an hour or so, but I almost never record them."
He's a quick writer, he confirms. "It's easy to come up with a nice riff. A song, that's something different." He immediately corrects himself. "It isn't that difficult at all. Writing a good song is. I keep one out of 15 songs, I guess. The rest aren't good enough." Which mean he must be writing a handful of songs every week? "Most weeks, I do," he confirms as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.
So it's no surprise that he already knows what his third album will be like. "Sparsely arranged," he confirms, "three guitars and one voice. No other instruments, no backing vocals. This way the narrative side of the songs is strongly stressed."
But let's first enjoy Eleonore.
Senne Guns
Hoera voor de eleboe
No, I have no idea what an eleboe is either. The animal appeared, complete with name, in a dream to Senne Guns. Ghent man Guns, who plays keyboards in post-rock band tomàn, lends his name to a new band, Senne Guns. Hey, who said life should be easy? Hoera voor de eleboe (Hurray For the Eleboe) is their intriguing debut, halfway Grandaddy and The Flaming Lips, with lyrics ranging from tongue-in- cheek ("Zovele mooie vrouwen"/"So Many Pretty Women") to melancholic ("De nagelstudio"/"The Nail Studio"). In an era where most new Flemish bands that choose for their mother tongue sing it in one of the many dialects from the region, it's good to hear someone using just plain Dutch. And it's even more exceptional to combine it with this spacey pop music. But it works. A golden combination.
Pasmans
Dwaallicht
Last year, Warre Borgmans turned Willem Elsschot's famous novella Het Dwaallicht (Will o' the Wisp) into a highly praised monologue. He was accompanied by a five-piece band centred around the versatile Rudy Trouvé. Simultaneous with a new series of performances, the soundtrack has released. The band named itself after a character in the book, Pasmans. Dwaallicht is a motley collection of songs and a few instrumentals, from doo-wop via swing to blues in the vein of Tom Waits. Sometimes a bit gloomy, but mostly heartfelt.
Anton Walgrave
As You Are
Singer-songwriter or rock musician: His whole career, Anton Walgrave has been hesitating between these two poles. Never has this tension has been more enamouring than on his fifth and most mature album, As You Are. He flirts with insanity ("Nobody Moves"), performs an acoustic haunting piece of angst ("Love Is Blindness"), delivers folk pop with a beautiful melody ("All You Have to Do") and revisits new wave ("As You Are" with a machine-gun bass line). I haven't been his biggest aficionado in the past, but this time I'm in. (CV)
Ghent
Twenty years ago, you basically had two rock venues in Ghent. The concert room of Vooruit with its then lousy acoustics, and Democrazy. It was a small club in the Reinaertstraat, situated in a quiet neighbourhood, literally next to a series of garage boxes. When the Democrazy was sold out, it was a terribly hot place with almost no air - but that probably added to its legend.
Democrazy programmed a wide variety of left-of-centre acts. Bands like Faith No More, Afghan Whigs and The Lemonheads played there before going on to bigger venues. And in December '89, a completely unknown Seattle band played its first Belgian concert for a handful of music lovers. Two years later, Nirvana was the most hyped band on the planet.
At the end of the 1990s Democrazy had to leave the Reinaertstraat, and the search for a new location proved to be difficult. So it became an organiser instead of a club, programming concerts at different locations (Vooruit, Minnemeers, Charlatan,...) and is responsible for the summer Gentse Feesten music stage Boomtown. (CV)
Flanders Today is a 
11°C / 26°C
