SINGER – SONGWRITERAngkae KHAMPHENGT

Angkae KHAMPHENGT

We are all involved in the creation. We are all kings, poets, musicians it is only to open up like a lotus to discover what is in us. Henry Miller

1969. Angkae was 11 years old when he left Laos for France. He grew up in the Bordeaux region with the
very first guitar he traveled with by his side.
The child became a young man and moved to Paris. Very quickly, in the neighborhood of Le Marais he filled the air of the Golf Drouot stage and Centre de la Chanson auditions with his melodious voice.

For Angkae, if music is learned, above all, it must be experienced. That is why he is self-taught and, since 1984, has been increasing collaborations with musicians and joining bands to give pride of place to the stage. It was within the Laotian band “Sengtavanh”, in 1984, that he tape-recorded his first songs. Influenced by the sixties and seventies, he took a more country turn from 1988.

During these years of all-encompassing artistic passion, he never stopped playing and singing. Creative from the very beginning, he still had so much to share that his dream was as strong as ever

Thus, in 2020, during the poetry festival Le Printemps des Poètes, Angkae participated in the 12th edition of the Grand Prize Andrée Chedid du Poème Chanté, organized by the Society of Authors, Composers, and Publishers of Music (SACEM). On this occasion, he set to music Boris Vian’s text Ils cassent le monde and fell in love with poetry. The desire to explore this new world, as immense as the world of poetry itself, was such that he released an EP soon after this adventure. Inspired by his travels, he puts musical tones of all continents at the crossroads of his influences, giving his timeless work the cosmopolitan dimension and the enrichment of all these cultures.

concert angkae

12th edition of the Grand Prize Andrée Chedid du Poème Chanté, organized by the Society of Authors, Composers, and Publishers of Music (SACEM)

Angkae Dessin portrait

They’re breaking the world
In small pieces
They’re breaking the world
A hammer
But I don’t care
I don’t care
There’s enough left for me.
There’s enough left
It’s enough that I like
A blue feather
A sandy path
A fearful bird
It’s enough that I like
A blade of thin grass
A drop of dew
A wooden cricket
They can break the world
In small pieces

There’s enough left for me.
There’s enough left
I’ll always have some air
A small net of life
In the eye a little light
And the wind in the nettles
And even, and even
If they put me in jail
There’s enough left for me.
There’s enough left
Just that I love This corr

oded stoneette
These iron hooks
Where a little blood lingers
I love it, I love it
The worn board of my bed
The doormat and the shawl
Sun dust
I love the peephole that opens
The men who entered
Who come forward, who take me
Finding the life of the world
And regain the color
I like these two long studs
This triangular knife
These gentlemen dressed in black
It’s my party and I’m proud
I love it, I love it
This basket filled with sound
Where I’m going to put my head
Oh, I love it for good
It’s enough that I like
A small sprig of blue grass
A drop of dew
A fearful bird lover
They’re breaking the world
With their heavy hammers
There’s enough left for me.
There’s enough left, my heart

Poem by Boris Vian

(March 10, 1920 – June 23, 1959)

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