Louis Philippe
An Unknown Spring

How did I lose sight of Philippe Auclair, alias Louis Philippe? Who's to blame if a songwriter of his class, even though he belonged to my '80s cult musician pantheon, had seemed to vanish, leading me to believe he had become part of the vast array of golden and glittering eighties one-hit wonders? Who knows! It was probably his long, nearly a decade-long, apparent inactivity around the mid-'80s and '90s that caused my forgetfulness; or his departure from the honorable Él record label, a true melting pot for so much sophisticated pop, outdated yet full of influences; or, more simply, the music market's lack of willingness to promote and introduce artists who are "only" good but not "trendy," with solid roots in the best popular music and not willing to diminish their talent and their bright ideas about music.

Finding him in great shape with his latest work, "An Unknown Spring," was like reconnecting with a dear friend who had been out of touch. All the best characteristics of his charming, sinuous, melancholic chamber pop that is (almost) never sad, twilight yet not without lively and carefree moments can be found on the album. The key word could be "lightness," if my friends and especially Calvino will forgive me for using the now overused metaphor. Breathing the rarefied atmosphere of this "unknown spring" gives a feeling of slight dizziness, like suddenly standing before an enchanted view, unable to tell whether what you're seeing is a dream or reality. As soon as you start, you're already deep into this golden limbo with the first two tracks, "No Sun, No Sky at All" and "The Hill and Valley," and you're almost convinced you're tasting the magical herbs that Brian Wilson & brothers fed to the lucky ruminants on the cover of "Pet Sounds."
The "beach boys" are certainly the most constant and obvious reference, especially for the vocal parts, but this '60s vein blends and merges perfectly with other influences, creating delicate and substantial songs, catchy yet complex at the same time. In "Light Were Dancing On The Ceiling," for example, you can witness the sumptuous marriage between chamber music and Bacharach-like melodies, with Prof. Louis's voice at its best. In the title track, you seem to hear the more bucolic and intimate Paddy McAloon, while "Fallen Snow" is a samba tiptoeing on a thin electronic carpet à la Stereolab. Perhaps there are too many references, it's true, but, as is only the case with true artists, the "layering" is forgotten, leaving only these songs of rare quality.

"An Unknown Spring" is without a doubt one of the best indie pop works of recent years and offers the chance for those who, like me, left Louis Philippe too soon, back in orbit with his highly recommended "Yuri Gagarin" (1989), to rediscover his other works which, I'm sure, will provide those who discover them with no small amount of satisfaction.