Rating:
* *
Much has been said about Carla Bruni's latest musical effort. Dozens of column inches have been dedicated to analysing, dissecting and discussing the French chanteusse's lyrics.
Just who is more dangerous than Afghan heroin, as referred to in the breezy jazz number
Tu Es Ma Came
? [``You are my high']. What exactly did she mean when she trilled ``Je te donne mon corps, mon ame et mon chrysantheme' [``I give you my body, my soul and my chrysanthemum'] on the lively
Ta Tienne
, whose title roughly translates to `I have the hots for you'.
Of course, such scrutiny is to be expected when you're the first lady of France. And to be fair, it's probably more welcome than the disdain many critics reserved for her when she was known as Europe's answer to Kate Moss, or Mick Jagger's bit on the side.
But while her debut album
Quelqu'un m'a dit
, and to a lesser extent its follow up
No Promises
, proved Bruni a singer of some substance,
Comme Si De Rien N'Etait
sees her stumble.
It starts well enough with Bruni's husky voice crooning over a playful piano melody on
Ma Jeunesse
but soon enters elevator territory, with the insipidly slow
La Possibilite D'Une Ile
. Worse still, is the Kenny G-like wail of a soprano saxophone on
Peche D'Envie
.
The rest of the album plays out safely enough, somewhere between pleasant and inoffensive. It's not great but it's not terrible. And that's really all there is to say about it.
Joanna Hunkin
New York Times: Sobbing in the movie theatre? You’re not alone.