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Rating: TOYS FROM THE ATTIC AND LITTLE SPELLS
Once upon a time, there were two little sisters. One had dark hair, and the other was blonde: Sierra and Bianca, as they were called, were recognized under the enigmatic and captivating name of Cocorosie. Little women in their old-fashioned dresses, far from Western fashion, far from that distant noise barely heard in the distance, towards the dark and stormy metropolises, far from urban rigor, lost among the nature of an old farm in Montpellier, Southern France.
Their country dresses swayed between the wheat and colorful flowers. Their steps rustled through the grass. Bianca held a small vintage recorder in her hands and recited quirky little poems, between the solemnity of the most sorrowful Baudelaire and the nonsense element of Dadaism, Sierra swayed in the background: her voice calling out to the little creatures of the woods. Poetry and opera.
On the veranda, their mother was painting a large canvas: an orgy of unicorns in an enchanted meadow. The two girls began to roll around in the grass, feeling the stalks tickling their skin, the scent of freshly cut grass entering their nostrils. Then came the lightning bolt: they hopped to the old attic of their creaky wooden house and there they found their old toys.
Despite their age, those little creatures were still beautiful and fascinating: there were millions of sensations, millions of colors and sounds in that attic illuminated only by a window overlooking the vast field of wheat and flowers. Bianca ran a toy train across the ebony parquet that made strange sounds, and she recorded them. It was the impulse, their play that would change their lives.
An old guitar belonging to their father, and the two girls turned into musicians. They never imagined, however, that from their play would come some of the most beautiful melodies of the 2000s. Far from dull and cool rhythms, far from trendy music, Cocorosie opened their art as if it were a lively fan.
Sitting for hours and hours on the tradition-scented ebony parquet, the two began the dance with a stunning "Terrible Angels," a love at first listen: simple, direct, yet extremely beautiful and able to get under your skin and shatter your heart.
"If Every Angel's Terrible...
Why do you welcome them?"
A small elegy that makes room for another memorable homey litany: the wonderful "By Your Side," a vaguely retro trip-folk dance with an ironic and sad text that immediately captivates. But the surprises don't end here. The more the Coco sing, the more melodies emerge, old toys that pop up out of nowhere, solitary guitars, opera fragments, old-time folk seductions... Little gems destined to form a masterpiece.
It's impossible not to fall in love with an amorous lullaby like the extraordinary "Good Friday," or it's impossible not to react to the ironic, anti-clerical folk "Jesus Loves Me" or the nostalgic, beautiful rain dance "Thaiti Rain Song."
Angelic voices, from another world, gently sighed or emitted as poetry, a flow of sounds that takes on color. Thus, even a seemingly minor ballad like the poetic and moving "West Side", one minute and twenty-five seconds of playful toy solos and whispered voices that intertwine as if they were making love.
If from those two fragile girls emerge jewels like the stunning "Madonna," which touches the strings of the soul as if they were those of a guitar, and the concluding, suspended and enigmatic "Lyla," an epitaph of a barely forty-minute poem impossible to forget. Not even for those two sisters, who left their voices in that attic, ready to intertwine with their childhood emotions in rhythm.
Here lies that spontaneity, that beauty, and immediacy in creating art, of which only children are capable.
Indeed, once grown, Cocorosie, non-musicians by definition as much as love songbirds, will find themselves at a dead end and produce two other albums, good yes, but nothing compared to this first-rate seduction. One of the most beautiful records of the past decade. My heart is shattered.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Terrible Angels (04:10)
If every angel's terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel's terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel's terrible
Then why do you welcome them
You provide the bird bath
I provide the skin
And bathing in the moonlight
I'm to tremble like a kitten
If blue eyed babes
Raised as hitler's little brides and sons
They got angelic tendencies
Like some boys tend to act like queens
Oh if every angel's terrible
Then why do you watch her sleep
You love to hear her sing
And wear purple eyes like rings
Well the flowers have no scent
And the child's been miscarried
Oh every angel's terrible
Said freud and rilke all the same
Rimbaud never paid them no mind
But jimmi morrison had his elevators
His elevators
He had his elevator angels
If every angel's terrible
Why do you hide inside her
Like a child in a skirt
The supermarket's loud and bright
And boy don't she feel warm tonight
Boy don't she feel warm tonight
Boy don't she feel warm tonight
If every angel's terrible...
02 By Your Side (03:59)
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I just wanted to be your housewife
All i wanted was to be your housewife
I'll iron your clothes
I'll shine your shoes
I'll make your bed
And cook your food
I'll never cheat
I'll be the best girl you'd ever meet
And for a diamond ring
I'll do these kinds of things
I'll scrub your floor
Never be a bore
I'd tuck you in
I do not snore
I'd wear your black eyes
Bake you apple pies
I won't ask whys
And i try not to cry
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
And its nearly midnight
And all i want with my life
Is to be a housewife
Is to be a housewife
'Cause it's nearly midnight
And all i want with my life
Is to die a housewife
Is to die a housewife
04 Good Friday (04:23)
I once fell in love with you
Just because the sky turned from gray
Into blue
It was a good friday
The streets were open and empty
No more passion play
On st. Nicholas avenue
I believe in st. Nicholas
Its a different type of santa clause
08 Butterscotch (03:08)
Black widow and white wood
The darkness of a forest eerily returns
To stagger drunk like mud
Taking swings at your woman
Run!!!
Why does butterscotch taste so good
And we can't have any
But we must we should
Why does sugar cane taste so good
Even though sugar can only do ya harm
You remind me of baseball
Tow trucks and the movies
Look sweet as to deliver me milk
Almost frozen on those wintry mornings
Don't slip mr. Mail man
Watch out for my dog!!!
Why does kissin' you feel so good
Even though it ain't alowed
I know we shouldn't should
Why does holdin' hands feel so right
Got a bruise on my pinky ring from holdin' too tight
Black diamonds swoon the corner
Make it sparkle
Its all for sale
Pushin' snow on the summer kids
Lewd remarks lowering
Lick the lips mischievous
Lick the lips mischievous
Skittles are the rainbow
And every color's popular though
Red gets the most invitations
To the jr. High celebrations
And i'll go alone i don't care
'Cause rainbow's not my favorite color
I'll go alone i don't care
It's not my favorite color
Why does butterscotch taste so good
And we can't have any
But we must we should
And why does sugar cane taste so good
Even though sugar can only do ya harm
I'll go alone i don't care
It's not my favorite color
Black widow and white wood
10 Madonna (03:49)
Miss madonna won't you give me a kiss
One of your soft sweet lagrimas
Miss madonna won't you give me a kiss
One of your soft sweet lagrimas
Oh miss madonna won't you please give me a kiss
Give me one of those soft sweet lagrimas
'Cause i felt your pain
When your baby was slain
And i tossed some roses to perfume his grave
Oh miss madonna won't you let me underneath your halo
'Cause it's raining hard
Raining hard in this abyss
Miss madonna...
Oh miss madonna where you goin' after work
In that preacher's car
You know o won't tell nobody
That you've been smoking cigars
I won't tell nobody
Tell nobody
That you've been smoking cigars
Miss madonna...
12 Lyla (04:03)
You wanted to buy me
For a hundred euro
You said you'd take me
To your little car
Your friend lived near by
He had a house and all
Where was i from you said
You guessed yugoslavia
Well it's not yogoslavia
It's not yugoslavia at all
It reminded me
Of a movie i just saw
About a little girl
From yugoslavia
She got sent away
They made her prostitute
She ate mcdonald's all day
And never had a chance to play
Lyla
You wanted to buy me
For a hundred euro
You said you'd take me
To your little car
Your friend lived near by
He had a house and all
Where was i from you said
You guessed yugoslavia
But it's not yugoslavia
It's hardly yugoslavia at all
Lyla
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