The Parisian six-man Saian Supa Crew is bouncing around the stage like an amphetamine-charged boy band. As they stomp through perfectly synchronized b-boy routines–tent-sized t-shirts flapping behind them–they belt out exhilarating multi-layered flows, insane beat-boxing, carnival-jump-up-style hooks, and pitch-perfect harmonies. Despite not having a freaking clue what they’re rapping about, I’m immediately swept up in their vibe. Along with the rest of the enthused crowd, I rock, bop, and punch the air like a kid at her first concert, vowing to love these guys for, like, ever.

That was the first time I saw Saian Supa Crew perform at The French Embassy in London, back in 1999. Since then I’ve been fortunate to somehow see Sir Samuel, Sly the Mic Buddha, Feniksi, Vicelow, Leeroy, and Specta (the latter two are no longer part of the crew) perform another four times, the group always as breathtaking as it was at that first magical show. Their prowess lies in their genuine skills, not the fronting. They don’t have the nasty bag of lyrics prevalent in so much of today’s hip hop, but rather the kind of mad-sick ability across the board of hip-hop’s core disciplines (rap, b-boying, beat-boxing) that leaves audiences stupefied.

If I could understand the lyrics of their albums–1999’s KLR, 2001’s X-Raisons, and 2005’s Hold-Up–I’m convinced I’d be even more blown away. My French connections tell me Saian’s style is not just socially biting and hilariously madcap but that they rap in a type of Paris street slang that flips the syllables of a word around to pronounce it back to front. It’s the West’s limited patience with non-English-language music that has kept them off the radar, and from becoming the world-renowned hip-hop royalty their talent merits.

And I’m as guilty as the next head for keeping it that way. I inexplicably forget about them just a few months after watching them in concert. I rarely play their albums, never check for them on YouTube, and never discuss them with friends. Why? Maybe it’s because no matter how much I love the flow, intonation, and beats, I can’t sing along, reassess the lyrical meaning, or empathize with the story of each album. But when I watch them perform I feel them as much, if not more, than I do the vast majority of English-speaking rappers–and fall in love with them all over again.

A native son of the City of Lights, Wax Tailor (otherwise known as JC Le Saout) walks a tightrope between geographies and genres. Parisians forget he’s actually a local, while Americans consider his embrace of hip-hop’s explosive golden era anachronistic in this age of blingy, ego-driven rap. Their loss, and not just because the noir-hop soundtracker actually scored a couple songs for the forthcoming Cedric Klapisch movie, Paris, or because Wax Tailor recently manned the wheels of steel for the Cannes Film Festival. Whether it’s scoring a Juliette Binoche kiss or crafting a haunting track for his recent release, Hope & Sorrow, with U.S. soul diva Sharon Jones, Le Saout has a je ne sais quoi for sonics.

“I began as a big fan of bands like Public Enemy, Eric B. & Rakim, and EPMD,” Le Saout explains, “as well as composers like John Barry, Lalo Schifrin, and Francois de Roubaix. I was totally compulsive about listening to music.”

His previous effort, Tales of Forgotten Melodies, is evidence of that compulsion, filled as it was with brooding arrangements of Hitchcockian splendor, as well as head-bobbing paeans to a hip-hop yesterday that Wax Tailor refuses to bid adieu.

“I feel a kind of nostalgia about the golden years,” he adds. “We’ve still got great producers like Edan or Madlib, but I’m happy to hear one classic album each year, when I used to hear about 15 a year in the early ‘90s. But I really think that there is a connection between the soundtrack and the hip-hop sound. The pulse of the rhythm, the emotions of the arrangements.”

And while the title Hope & Sorrow may indicate no variation on that lovelorn theme, Wax Tailor’s newest record owes more to Herbaliser than it does Bernard Hermann. Especially with the vocal aid of Sharon Jones on the poignant “The Way We Lived.”

“I wanted to mix early ’70s soul with my sound,” Le Saout says, “and I was convinced that Sharon could bring something special to the track. It was a great honor to work with her.”

Their productive culture mash may become the norm in our digital age, where Google Maps brings Paris to your bedroom while internet labels and audiences evolve beyond geographical boundaries.

“In France,” Le Saout explains, “the hip-hop scene is really developed, with more and more alternatives like instrumentals, turntablists, abstracts, and rap. It’s possible to get out of the traditional formats. I think that people don’t care anymore about where the music is coming from. We’re on the internet now. People judge you by your sound.”

One hundred feet beneath Paris lies over 300 kilometers of tunnels, secret passageways, and special rooms fashioned in the ruins of Roman-era limestone quarries. The catacombs are a burial site, illegal party spot, graffiti museum, and unusual respite from the city rolled into one, accessible only by climbing through sewage drains and down manholes. Filmmakers Marielle Quesney and Jean “Turf One” Labourdette spent four years trailing graffiti writer Psyckoze through this haunting underworld for their 2006 documentary Dead Space (Bully Records, $15). We asked for their thoughts on one of Paris’ most secret spots.

XLR8R: What was the scariest moment you had in the catacombs?

Marielle: When I realized that I was 100 feet below the surface of a bustling city, below the subway and sewer systems. And as we walked on–or, rather, tried to keep up with Psyckoze, who runs through the tunnels like a nutty little elf-man–the walls and ceiling became tighter and tighter until we were at a crouch; the air thicker with every step, the weight of solid rock on my back, and darkness around very corner. When I realized that I could not leave the space without my guide, I discovered that I was a little claustrophobic. However, I managed to suppress my insanity, heavy breathing, and cold sweats, and some 10 hours later I crept out of a tight hole onto an abandoned train track. I felt like I was born again.

What was the most surprising thing you saw in the catacombs?

Marielle: Nothing can survive down there, nothing lives down there. It is earth and stone. I thought I would come across a rat or something, but there was nothing.

Jean: I was very surprised to see how people behave and interact in a place where the notion of society is supposed to be completely absent. How they recreate their own rules, codes, structures, and conflicts. Also, every single aspect of a person takes on a huge importance down there and almost shapes the energy of the place around this person. The space is neutral but becomes an amplifier for every individual’s persona.

What was your favorite moment of making the film?

Jean: My favorite moment was discovering the catacombs, running through the tunnels for hours at a time. For someone who loves abandoned spaces, it was the ultimate playground.

Marielle: The experience of living in Paris and documenting something unknown to most of its citizens was pretty cool. Most of the people didn’t know about the catacombs; a few had heard mythical stories but very few had actually ventured down there. It was like we were really discovering something…

Did Psyckoze get lost often?

Marielle: Psy is a crazy dude. He used to take LSD and go down there without a map or any source of light and let himself get lost, and eventually find his way out again. Talk about facing your demons… It is also how he came to know the place like the back of his hand. In the 15 or so times that we went down, we only got lost once and only because he was too drunk to even walk straight, let alone find his way out of a labyrinth.

Did you find the catacombs as relaxing as Psyckoze does?

Jean: I had a few occasions to stop filming, turn off the lights, and wander by myself a little further into the darkness of the tunnels while listening to the absolute silence. That’s when I had a chance to experience the very intense energy of the place. It was very strong and peaceful at the same time.

Marielle: It’s crazy and intense and surreal, but I wouldn’t call it “chill”.