T.
T.

God bless the fake files of eMule. Some genius on the Kadu network (the outcasts who have Fastweb know what I'm talking about) thought it wise to give notoriety to an unknown French artist, a certain Thomas Walter, known as "T.", by zipping his self-titled 2005 album and passing it off as the new one by the Guillemots.

As I write, I see on Adunanza that 197 fools, myself included, fell for it. For the series "Excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta," I still picked up the Guillemots' album this week during one of those lightning visits to Albion's land that I occasionally endure for some sad professional matters. In the meantime, I couldn't resist the temptation of the electronic mule and some days ago I found myself listening to something that was clearly not the Guillemots (an artistic shift is one thing, but there's a limit; Fyfe Dangerfield may be quite a versatile guy, but if one of his albums sounded like a cross between French touch and German indietronica, even his mother would disown him).

The problem with this fake disc I downloaded was that I quite liked it, but try to figure out what kind of musician he was. Even the song titles were fake. Fortunately, in the third millennium, if you know how to use Google, there are no mysteries, so search here, search there, I end up on a blog of someone who had encountered the same misadventure and from there to the website of Mr. T.'s record label, called Herzfeld.

From the label's website, strictly in French, I learn that the album in question, the second effort of the then-twenty-four-year-old Thomas Walter, was released in 2005 and that the artist's third album, "Bau," has just been released, once again by the same record label.

This "T." is one of those albums you immediately get along with. The bass lines over electronic percussion in "Dancing Together" and the calm interplay between samplers and keyboards in "Show Us" are borrowed from the latest Teutonic electropop (Notwist über alles) and even Walter's voice eerily resembles Markus Archer's.

I don't want to delude you into thinking I've discovered a new "Neon Golden". Good old Thomas confines himself here to reinterpreting, more than adequately, what has already been sown by others, without the pretense of reinventing anything. He even tries to venture into terrains evidently less familiar to him, a bit new acoustic in "Soft Pocket" and a bit like a lisping Damien Rice in "Pink and Red". It even happens that it's boring ("Can't Remember"), but then he finds our beloved indietronica atmospheres again with "Postman" and closes beautifully with a wonderful track in pure French touch style, "Boys are Designed", the likes of which Air haven't made for a while.

The only real flaw of this album is that it is practically impossible to find. I'm talking about original copies, because with peer-to-peer you understood how to track it down. If you don't mind the Bitten Apple, you can even download it from iTunes, where you will have the pleasure of paying the copyright fees.

P.S. To the genius who passed the album off as the new one by the Guillemots on the mule: friend, I owe you a favor. The world is small and if by chance you ever read these lines, get in touch. I've set aside a bottle of Montefalco Rosso for you.

P.P.S. "Red," the new album by the Guillemots, you can pick up for only 7 pounds 65 at the Gatwick duty-free, but be aware that it's quite lousy.