Whenever Carla Bruni is talked about, the most famous Italian model of the nineties, it's hard to avoid the inglorious comparison with Naomi Campbell's musical debut Baby Woman of 1995. In that case, the active participation of her boyfriend Adam Clayton, bassist of U2, was seen by many as an aggravating factor; the black Venus paid with a resounding flop for her singing ambitions.
Carla Bruni's debut work, Quelqu'un m'a dit in 2003, thanks to a handful of delicate songs for voice and guitar alone, managed to conquer France, the adopted homeland of the model born in Turin into a wealthy family of musicians, with over two million copies sold. Similar to how Bellucci captivated the French, who are chauvinistic about everything except female beauty, they immediately exalted Carla Bruni's discreet talent, wholeheartedly electing her as a muse of the exquisite singing beyond the Alps.
The new album, entirely sung in English, is a more ambitious work than the previous one: instead of the naive lyrics present in Quelqu'un m'a dit, Bruni tackles poems by important authors such as William Yeats and Emily Dickinson. She doesn't lack courage, but in No Promises there's a feeling that the initial recklessness has become nothing but calculation. In an effort to not disappoint her numerous admirers, Carla Bruni loses sight of the strength of Quelqu'un m'a dit: an effective work of subtraction that offered us a handful of simple, but sincere songs.
No Promises may also be sincere, yet Carla has probably taken the notorious "step longer than the leg," quite the irony for a model.
Promises, promises... but doesn’t deliver!
An absolutely useless album that will end up in the musical oblivion in less than 1 month.
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.