Cracks in the Facade: Fantastique French Pop (The August Playlist)

I'm not exactly sure what's come over me these last few weeks, but I've been listening to nouvelle chanson Française music almost non-stop (much to the consternation of Mrs. F). It all started with the weekend of preparations for hosting a World Cup final party (in which everyone was rooting for France and I prepared crepes), during which I listened to all the French music I had in my collection, and the the music has hung on possibly due to my extended mourning period over France's loss to Italy.

My love affair started last year when I came home from Paris with a copy of SanSeverino's Les Sénégalaises (at Amazon US as well as Amazon France -- which includes sound samples). It's a prime example of the nouvelle chanson Française genre, which covers a bit of stylistic ground (in Sanseverino's case, very Django Rheinhart) but is essentially a throwback to the cafe performers of Paris in the 1950s/60s as epitomized by Jacques Brel. This new take on a nostalgic style has been gaining ground in France, and the Putomayo label released an introductory compilation of the genre, which includes this explanation:

In the case of most trends, what is old becomes new again. Your grandmother’s pearls show up on today’s supermodels; her favorite crooner reappears decades later as the toast of the town. Even in Paris—the city that’s always en vogue—this phenomenon occurs time and again. The Paris of your grandmother’s time was alive with the songs of a genre called chanson. Very traditional in its sound, chanson was rediscovered and revamped in the late 50s and early 60s before it once again became passé with younger audiences, who embraced rock and pop as the sound of their generation. Now, forty years later, a new school of musicians has given a fresh voice to this vintage sound, creating the nouvelle scène (new scene) that is all the rage in Paris.

It's a very worthy intro -- folky but with spritely instrumentals and some jazzy turns -- but unfortunately it doesn't include SanSeverino or one of the other big guns of the scene, Bénabar.

My nouvelle chanson Française obsession has grown to such great heights of late that I've imported several CDs from Amazon France, including pretty much everything by Monsieur Bénabar (here's a longish, PRish bio in English), who is definitely in the Brel mode as a singer/songwriter who comments on daily life and characters in Paris and whose piano playing is accompanied by a larger, horn-filled jazz band. (I have no French language skills, and thus don't understand what they're singing about, but that's never really bothered me as I listen to a lot of non-English music. It's the feeling behind the music and the voice acting as instrument that draws me in.)

I've really been digging the tunefulness and the loose jazz playing of his self-titled debut (Amazon France) and Les Risques du Métier (The Risks of the Trade; via Amazon US | Amazon France) -- the latter has been stuck in my car for the last week and I dream of creme brulees served at Left Bank cafes as I pass by the McDonalds and corporate grocery stores on my errands. However, I'm not so taken with his most recent release, Reprise des Negociations (Amazon US | Amazon France), which finds him being a tad too deep and meaningful. At which point, I needed some of that rollicking gypsy from SanSeverino and the more poppy notions of Mickey 3D to chase the blahs away.

That, pretty much, has been what's been circulating through the iTunes playlist (and in the car) of late, but I'll probably get back to more standard fare soon before Mrs. F explodes. And to that end, I'll leave you with what Wm. Steven Humphrey of The Slog (the blog portion of Seattle's alternative weekly, The Stranger) calls the best music video ever by OK Go -- a sentiment I'd have to agree with. Plus, it's a kickin' tune. (Hat tip to El Jefe)