CocoRosie
La Maison De Mon Rêve

THE REVIEW

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.