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Rating:
Promises, promises... but doesn't deliver!
MadooOOOonna what a colossal bore this is! With this raspy early morning voice, caught between the crossroads of a seasoned smoker's hoarseness and phlegm-clearing liberation, after an album almost entirely sung in French, the once runway birdie now past her prime tries again with an album (drum roll, please), sung in… ENGLISH!!
Da daaaaa… plot twist, huh?
Three/four chords a "song," little rounds of C with a sprinkle of folk-blues, played by guitars as frail and limp as limp little sausages after the 6th consecutive ejaculation, our dear Carletta Brunetta Multi Millionaire tries again, as tired as she is of her rich and bored life between Paris and Monte Carlo, and dishes out this low-low-fi disc, annoying and sticky like flypaper used in summer.
But where is this pretty babe from wet dreams but not too much aiming? What does she want to show the world: that she has a brain too? That even a pretty chick can DO something else? There are even a few cute songs, just listen to "Those dancing days are gone" or "Autumn" but, all things considered, and after dragging your balls swollen like two watermelons from the couch to the stereo to press OFF, it's necessary to say that this is an absolutely useless album that will end up in the musical oblivion in less than 1 month starting whenever you want.
Nothing new to offer, nothing so beautiful to listen to (except for her irresistibly sexy voice at times), lukewarm music as background to play before falling asleep or during reading a book, the classic album you end up listening to while sleeping and almost never manage to reach the last 5 songs.
In short, if at least there were some photos of the singer in a thong on the cover or inside, I would have happily increased the score. But without even those, what should I judge... the pseudo songs you hear here!?
See you next time Carla, so remember: more half-naked photos of yourself (maybe in an accompanying DVD!) and, if you can, a CD with some real songs maybe this time in Spanish or Greek. But you can also skip the CD: I'll buy it anyway!
:-P
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
05 Promises Like Pie Crust (02:33)
Promise me no promises
So will I not promise you
Keep we both our liberties
Never false and never true
Let us hold the die uncast
Free to come as free to go
For I cannot know your past
And of mine what can you know?
You, so warm, may once have been
Warmer towards another one
I, so cold, may once have seen
Sunlight, once have felt the sun
Who shall show us if it was
Thus indeed in time of old?
Fades the image from the glass
And the fortune is not told
If you promised, you might grieve
For los liberty again
If I promised, I believe
I should fret to break the chain
Let us be the friends we were
Nothing more but nothing less
Many thrive on frugal fare
Who would perish of excess
10 Ballade at Thirty Five (03:03)
This, no song of ingénue
This, no ballad of innocence
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever the natural bents
This, a solo of sapience
This, a chantey of sophistry
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them until they loved me
Decked in garments of sable hue
Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents
Wearing shower bouquets of rue
Walk I ever in penitence
Oft I roam, as my heart repents
Through God's acre of memory
Marking stones, in my reverence
"I loved them until they loved me."
Pictures pass me in long review, --
Marching columns of dead events
I was tender, and, often, true
Ever a prey to coincidence
Always knew I the consequence
Always saw what the end would be
We're as Nature has made us -- hence
I loved them until they loved me
Princes, never I'd give offense
Won't you think of me tenderly?
Here's my strength and my weakness, gents -
I loved them until they loved me
11 At Last the Secret Is Out (03:09)
At last the secret is out
As it always must come in the end
The delicious story is ripe to tell
To tell to the intimate friend
Over the tea-cups and into the square
The tongues has its desire
Still waters run deep, my dear
There's never smoke without fire
Behind the corpse in the reservoir
Behind the ghost on the links
Behind the lady who dances
And the man who madly drinks
Under the look of fatigue
The attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story
There is more than meets the eye
For the clear voice suddenly singing
High up in the convent wall
The scent of the elder bushes
The sporting prints in the hall
The croquet matches in summer
The handshake, the cough, the kiss
There is always a wicked secret
A private reason for this
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Other reviews
By Adil
In No Promises there's a feeling that the initial recklessness has become nothing but calculation.
Carla has probably taken the notorious 'step longer than the leg,' quite the irony for a model.
By The_dull_flame
In English, she comes across almost cold, without any emotion whatsoever.
Carla Bruni’s voice has become an absolute disappointment: if before it was warm, enveloping, distinctive, now it appears quite poor and almost masculine.
