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Rating: She was supposed to be the next big thing in chanson française when at just 19 years old she burst onto the scene with "Salle Des Pas Perdus," an extremely light album, harmless, certainly not what we could call a demanding record. However, it was precisely that simplicity that was the charm of that album, ultimately a positive debut compared to other things that were trending, such as Carla Bruni with her fake pseudo-French pose and related (terrible) debut album.
The young Coralie is truly 100% French, and also of the most classic archetype: prissy girl from an intellectual image, voice so 'coquettish' it's deadly, with obvious references to the likes of Françoise Hardy and Jane Birkin. Adorable, but it must be acknowledged how she has lost her way with her latest records, adopting an overly pop direction (Bye bye beauté) and at times playful in the true sense of the word (the mediocre Toystore actually featured arrangements with toy instruments). That said, the first album, with its 40 minutes full of short songs, as the French tradition dictates, deserves consideration if you appreciate certain "smooth" and luxurious atmospheres.
Clearly inspired by 1960s French music, the album is essentially a sort of collaboration between Coralie and her brother Benjamin Biolay, a highly regarded multi-instrumentalist in his native land, who produced the record gifting his sister 13 tracks where the acoustic Parisian charm and strictly retro arrangements take center stage in a context that is sometimes indiefolk, where what stands out is the sister's seductive voice.
Yes, because while Benjamin's work is well done, deliberately behind the times (as it's practically impossible to spot a glimpse of sound technology), the fundamental figure is that of the latter, who displays a frail and delicate little voice, almost intangible but damn (and stereotypically) sexy in her innocent and sweet style ("Lou," "La mer opale," "À l'occasion tu souris"). All this, needless to say, in the most classic exaggerated quote and "whispering" style (if you permit me the term) reminiscent of Gainsbourgian memory.
Let's be clear: the album, except for the impractical "Ça calait la peine" (a sterile waltz) and "Le dernier train" (an avoidable duet à-la Je t'aime moi non plus) does not present itself as the classic second-wave chanson, sweetened and poorly aged, nor the ridiculous adolescent and savvy French pop à-la Alizee. It's easier to associate it with the classier and more intimate Scandinavian releases (Hanne Hukkelberg, for example) or the early gentle Cardigans (those of Life).
The common denominator is certainly refinement in the strictest sense of the term: indeed, if soft accompaniments+vintage harmonies+sensual voice are a recurrent and overly used classic of the genre, it should be emphasized how this formula - even often exaggerated - knows how to renew itself while maintaining that usual savoir-faire, greatly aided by the numerous echoes of Franco-Brazilian bossa nova (especially on "Samba de mon coeur qui bat"), those jazz influences very present ("La contradiction," "Bientôt," "Le jazz et le gin"), and the instrumentation (almost always played by Benjamin) which, with a saxophone here, a little flute there and a large presence of strings, confers further elegance to Coralie's debut. A debut that partly made itself felt even here, with the delightful "L'ombre et la lumière" written by Keren Ann, (an author of several interesting works in recent years) which made the fortune of the smooth night-relax-addicted acts like Radio Monte Carlo. Worthy also is "Salle de pas perdus," with its calm demeanor. Clearly, there will not be any overly sweet and indigestible moments, halfway between (it is subjective) melancholy or exasperating: in cases like "Ces matins d’été" or "Mes fenêtres donnent sur la cour" I stand on the latter category.
Final verdict? Very nice, excellent in its genre (3.5): flows like water and is really pleasant to listen to! After all, we are dealing with a French record... ultra-glossy... pleasant background... light... delicate...etc. etc. etc. (who knows why when discussing this genre we always write the same things). Nothing pretentious, nothing new, indeed. But after all, we don't expect these albums to provide blast beats, distorted synths, or cavernous growls.
And besides, growls get on my nerves.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 L'Ombre et la Lumière (04:08)
Un beau jour
Ou était-ce une nuit
On s'assoit sur un banc
On décide de refaire sa vie
Et sous le firmament
On oublie les règles et les acquis
Et tous nos différends
Sont différents
Un beau jour
Une fin d'après midi
On vole aux quatre vents
Vers un ailleurs
Un atoll, un abri
Une rivière de diamants
On oublie les comptes et les débits
Les quoi, les où, les quand
Simplement, simplement
C'est l'ombre et la lumière
Ces petits riens qu'on aimait tant naguère
San Rémo, le printemps en fleurs
Au loin j'entends battre ton coeur
C'est l'ombre et la lumière
Les vacanciers qui partent aux sports d'hiver
Monaco, Venise où Honfleur
Plus qu'un rêve, un leurre
Un beau jour
Ou était-ce une nuit
On s'assoit sur un banc
On reprend le cours de sa vie
On oublie simplement
Qu'on a vu un peu de paradis
Des mers, des éléments
Simplement, simplement
C'est l'ombre et la lumière
Ces petits riens qu'on aimait tant naguère
San Rémo, le printemps en fleurs
Au loin j'entends battre ton coeur
C'est l'ombre et la lumière
Les vacanciers qui partent aux sports d'hiver
Monaco, Venis où Honfleur
Plus qu'un rêve, un leurre
07 Samba de mon cœur qui bat (03:53)
Mon dieu que c'est lache
Que c'est facheux
Quelle tragedie,quel tracas
Mon dieu que c'est vache
Mon amoureux est reparti la-bas
Mon dieu que c'est triste
Il m'aimait si peu
Moi je l'aimais tant je crois
Mon dieu tu t'en fiches
Toi tu n'as d'yeux
Que pour une autre que moi
Meme si le temps passe
Je n'oublie pas
La samba
La samba des jours avec toi
La samba des jours avec toi
La samba de mon coeur qui bat
La samba
La samba des jours avec toi
La samba des jours avec toi
La samba de mon coeur qui bat
Samba de mon coeur qui bat
Mon dieu que c'est moche
C'est ennuyeux
Tu t'es joue de moi
Mon dieu que c'est cloche
De se dire adieu
Et Paris est si froid
Mon dieu si tu existes meme un peu
Ramene-moi
Mon aquarelliste
Si vaniteux
Qui ne peignait que moi
Meme si le temps passe
Je n'oublie pas
10 Lou (02:34)
Je suis née avant-hier
D'un courant d'air
Déjà, déjà dans le vent
Je m'endors dans un pagne
au soleil couchant
Et mille chants m'accompagnent
Lou...
Je suis née avant-hier
D'un courant d'air
Déjà, déjà dans le vent
je mourrai dans un souffle
Un souffle de vent
Bien avant que tu naisses ;-)
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