99GINGER Is More Than Just a Spicy Parisian Art Collective
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Sometimes the best inspiration comes from frustration. It was this feeling that fired up Kirou Kirou as he navigated the creative scene in the French capital years ago; his desire for blending the cultural influences he’d grown up with chafing against the city’s deeply divided creative enclaves. “I would go DJ in Amsterdam or London and there was more crossover,” he recalls. “I would go back to Paris and be like, ‘Shit, I’ve got to DJ either in this electric party or one that’s more hip-hop, but nothing really in the middle.’” Whatever the true cause — whether gentrification or cultural pompousness — there was no doubt that the Parisian nightlife scene was in need of a bit of a push. The antidote? 99GINGER.
Formed out of Kirou’s experiences (and deeply inspired by fellow member Vanna’s eclectic DJ sets), the art collective named after the spicy root has chipped away at Paris’ creative barriers since 2018. What began as a party series with music as diverse as the crowds has become a creative incubator with seven core members: Kirou, Vanna, Gabriel, Ava Andreani, Clarisse Prévost, KCIV, and Nadia Keira. With each member bringing a different skillset, 99GINGER has expanded past the boundaries of being just another party collective to become something truly kaleidoscopic; you can find them working on everything from editorial interviews and printed poetry books to consulting services and a record label. They’ve also pushed far past city limits since breaking out with their 2020 Bl99ming Tour. The crew has brought their sonic fusion around the world, linking with crews like Tokyo Vitamin, Vivendii Sound, NTS Radio, and Gauchoworld for pop-up parties.
In a city overstuffed with collectives situated in a country that skews culturally conservative, this global vision has helped 99GINGER stand out. “We're trying to bring the project worldwide,” Kirou explains. “A lot of people think we’re not even from Paris. I go to some parties and they're like, ‘Oh, I love 99GINGER. Oh, you guys are French, what the fuck?’” There was never any other choice but to bring the world in; all seven members are first-generation French kids whose families are Algerian, Ethiopian, Cambodian, and Brazilian. The crew is truly a melting pot of cultures that pushes back hard against the cloud of forced assimilation that hovers over French society.
As Kirou, Vanna, and Clarisse gather onscreen during a recent video chat, the topic of their mixed backgrounds flows into a conversation of why their disparate upbringing forms the glue bonding them together. “We are all kids of immigrants. We all grew up in the same environment, so we bring this to the table. It's really natural [and] it makes sense to us,” Vanna explains, as Clarisse adds: “We all come from different countries. That makes you a bit different. Your culture, your mindset. You can connect easily with people that also share double culture, even though it's not the same double culture.” Together, they push forward with the goal to “bridge the gap.” “We are a generation of mixed people,” Kirou notes. “It makes sense to break boundaries between communities and genres.”
The fight hasn’t always been easy. Outlets regularly typecast the crew as “Afrobeat,” and while it’s a genre they love, it’s also a lazy ploy to box the crew in. With seven members worth of eclectic sound, their parties flow effortlessly from drum-n-bass and hard techno to funky jazz and Amapiano. “We’re all sensitive to different things,” Kirou notes. “[99GINGER] is deeper than Afrobeat, for sure.” Defining the collective is an impossible task, even for its own members, but one thing is certain for Kirou: “When you think too much about something, it just makes your mind smaller and smaller. We don't block our minds to something specific. If we have an idea, we make it.”
This “fuck around and find out” attitude has pushed the crew not only to try new things but to bolster members’ ongoing creative outlets. For Clarisse, the writer and journalist of the crew, 99GINGER has given her the support to push her art further. After releasing her first book of poetry in 2020 without a publisher, she went bigger and bolder with VIVRE FRÉNÉSIE, the 226-page second edition that launched last year with a 99GINGER-backed event. In this edition, she found inspiration in Japanese haiku, crafting a total of 202 short bilingual poems interspersed with illustrations and handwritten journal notes. For Clarisse, being part of the collective, and creating these projects together, is “like a childhood fantasy brought to life.”
“You can be creative when you're on your own, but when you want to do a project, it becomes like a mountain. When you've got a few people, and you all join your creativity and energy, it's so much easier to bring things to life — whether that’s a T-shirt or a party or a compilation or whatever,” she says as Kirou and Vanna smile and nod along. “You have this group of talented people that you trust and you know they understand your vision, so you are able to make things happen. That can be difficult if you're just on your own, even if you're extremely talented.” As Vanna notes, it also provides fuel for their curiosity. “It's a way to keep things alive and not always stay in the same routine. It's about trying to build a better version of yourself with all these experiences.”
Under Kirou’s guidance, the crew has adopted a methodical approach that’s refreshing in an era where everything seems to move a mile a minute. “We're not in a rush,” he explains. “We are trying to take time to do things in the right way.” Of course, the slow and steady approach doesn’t mean that 99GINGER’s calendar isn’t stuffed with events. They’re fresh off a recent trek to Madrid to play the Boiler Room stage at Primavera Sound, and when talk turns to the latter half of the year, a string of commitments are rattled off that begin with a very, very busy next few weeks.
On June 21, they’ll be spearheading a major event for Fête de la Musique, France’s annual celebration of music, that’s the culmination of months of hard work. Days later, the crew will link up with longtime collaborator Babylon, an LA-based skate and music brand, for their fifth-anniversary party. Beyond their usual Parisian rager, the two collectives will also head to Coco in London for a party across the pond. With a handful of unannounced collabs with music festivals and brands on the horizon, there’s no doubt that 99GINGER is burning bright — but the goal is never to dim the shine of other collectives that share the city. “I remember when I was younger, you had collectives from this area or from this area, and we didn’t talk with each other because everyone is jealous or someone succeeded better than you or whatever,” Vanna recalls. “We try to give some good energy to everybody around us. “When you show some love to the people, people show some love to you. We’re trying to break this wall between the collective and the people.”
You started the collective in 2018. Was there a certain catalyst that led you to start 99GINGER?
Kirou: In the beginning, it was more of a party thing. Vanna was DJing already in Paris for a long time, and I was following him. He had his eclecticism between music genres. 99GINGER started because of the frustration that we had in Paris; the scenes were very separated. I would go DJ in Amsterdam or London or places like that and there was more crossover. I would go back to Paris and be like, “Shit, I’ve got to DJ either in this electric party or one that’s more hip-hop, but nothing really in the middle.”
The music doesn't blend together.
Kirou: Yeah, and even the communities were very separated. We were like, “You know what? Let's just do our thing.” We started doing parties first in Paris and then, after a few months, bringing it to other places like Portugal, London, [and] Amsterdam. We even went to Toronto and Montreal. We’re really bringing the energy to every city.
I read that the 2020 tour that you guys did was what made you jump out.
Kirou: Yes, 2020 was the year that we brought the project out of Paris because we were connected with some local communities doing the same thing — bringing the same energy.
How did you three meet? Have you all been friends for a while?
Kirou: I knew Vanna as a DJ because I was going out; he was already popping in Paris because he's a bit older. We connected in Paris.
Vanna: When [Kirou] set up his first party, he asked me to DJ as a headliner. We have a good connection together, because when I was younger, I feel like I was like him. He tried to bring something different to the community and start his own project. As an older DJ and as a big brother (kind of), I wanted to support this way of thinking, this way of building something. When you start something, you never have a lot of money or budget. I was like, “It's fine, bro. I like the energy, I like the vibe, so let's do it together.” It happened really naturally.
He started his own project, and I was following but not a part of it. Then I saw that he was building something more and more serious. We met a couple of times at different parties and we started to build a real relationship as friends. As you say, in 2020, it was the year that it started being very serious. We had this opportunity to make the project grow big time. We started setting up parties in different cities in France, and then [expanded] out and started to do some stuff in Belgium and the countries around France. The 2020Bl99ming Tour was the first time that we were able to be all together in a different country that nobody knows.
Trying to create a story between the connection, we have to enforce the relationship that we have with other collectives and artists. At the beginning, we were just like, “It's cool for us because we are able to travel and have fun with other people,” but then we started to get more curious about the lifestyle. The way that people party is different from us because the culture is different. They don't grow up with the same education in music. For me, at this point, it started to be something deeper than just parties and music; it started to be more about sharing something, experiencing something different, and sharing some moments with people. Nowadays, it became something that makes sense to us to have something to experiment with, just to have a goal with the project and not only be entertainment.
I saw you guys do editorial now, you have the NTS residency. Clarisse, how did you get connected?
Clarisse: I arrived in Paris in 2018. I was not supposed to stay, but I stayed because I liked the vibe of the city. The year after, I was working for a label; the first day I came, [Kirou] was sitting next to me, so we just connected, and there was a vibe. I told him I was writing poetry and all type of things. He was like, “I'm looking for someone to write.” We went to eat, and since that day, we've been friends and working together. That's how we met.
Paris has such a big nonwhite community, but they aren't really well represented in culture. I know that was part of the collective’s mission to bring out these underutilized perspectives. Do you want to talk a bit about that?
Clarisse: In the collective, everybody's mixed. We all come from different countries. That makes you a bit different — your culture, your mindset. You can connect easily with people that also share double culture, even though it's not the same double culture. I don't think we voluntarily are choosing people from minorities; it's just really natural for us to put lights on people that look like us without really trying to. It’s just that they inspire us.
I've also read that you get typecast as an “Afrobeat” collective, and you’re more than that.
Kirou: Yeah, we love Afrobeat, but people see Black people doing music and are like, “Oh, are you doing Afrobeats or are doing Amapiano?” It’s deeper than that. Also, the team is so eclectic that we’re all sensitive to different things. It’s deeper than Afrobeat, for sure.
How would you want people to know your collective?
Kirou: We try to have no boundaries, no limits of what we want to do or what we want to play as a DJ or as an identity. We try to be 360 on everything. I know people like to put [99GINGER] in some box, but we belong to the world. We don't limit ourselves to a specific type of music; we like to share and mix everything together because that makes the energy and makes it interesting. We don’t —
Clarisse: Restrict ourselves to one genre or one energy.
Kirou: We don't get stuck. We don't block our minds to something specific. If we have an idea, we make it. When you think too much about something, it just makes your mind smaller and smaller.
In Paris, have you guys received any pushback against what you're doing? Do you get any hate or anything that you had to deal with?
Kirou: Not really hate, but people can be very competitive in Paris. When you do project and when you're doing well, you always have people that love it and some people that hate it anywhere in the world. 99GINGER is a positive project. It's a community project.The thing is, because we communicate in English since the beginning, we're trying to bring the project really worldwide. A lot of people that thinks that we’re not even from Paris. I would go to some parties and they're like, “Oh, I love 99GINGER. Oh, you guys French, what the fuck?”
Sometimes it feels like French people just don't like anyone who's not French.
Vanna: With the project, we try to give some good energy to everybody around us. We have a big friends and family thing, so everyone around us is creative and we try to do our best to support them on their projects. When you show some love to the people, people show some love to you. That's why we have good relationship with other collectives and other artists, because when they do events, we come by, grab some drinks, and talk with everybody.
It's important to have this cohesion in Paris, because I remember when I was younger, you had collectives from this area or from this area, and we didn’t talk with each other because everyone is jealous or someone succeeded better than you or whatever. That was something that was bothering me at the time because when you start a project and go to see all the collectives and try to share something with them, they are like, “No, we already have our team.” We try to break this wall between the collective and the people.
