Nouvelle Vague - Couleurs Sur Paris (Album)
French musical collective Nouvelle Vague sure know how to tamper with convention. Their fourth studio album, Couleurs Sur Paris, marks a collision of their usual new wave, bossa nova approach with a twist: a wild time-warp to the country’s post-punk era of the 1980s. If you can get your head around that, you’ll be able to deduce very quickly if this is the album for you or one best left on the shelf. Buyer beware, however: an investigation of Couleurs Sur Paris may prove hit and miss.
Even if post-punk isn’t exactly your specialty, it’s likely that the term conjures up images and ideas less akin to those featured on Nouvelle Vague’s album. The collection's specialty lies in its collection of dreamy, immaculate lounge-lizard soundtracks. As you'd expect, each song conceals its own typically tender French dialect, repackaged with new sultry appeal courtesy of a few essential guests - namely French starlets Camille, Soko, Vanessa Paradis and Melanie Pain. Although they each contribute compelling vocal performances, it’s not enough to suggest that Couleurs Sur Paris is anything but an excessively mellow listen bordering on being downright complacent, soothing or lulling to sleep depending on the track. Amoreux Solitaires is the greatest example of this trend, resembling little more than a Sunday stroll.
This phenomenon can, in part, be best attributed to the monotony heard in the production of the record. The trusty acoustic guitar is at the heart if the entire record. Rip that much out of the equation and one of two things could happen: Couleurs Sur Paris could crumble, or the result could make for a very interesting offer indeed. The tracks that toy with invention prove to be the more successful cuts. Putain Putain - translating to a provocative English, Whore Whore - provides a slick example of bossanova-fueled moxie, Camille spitting “The poor may be poor, the rich may be rich, but they all beat the shit out of each other.” It’s a classic line and one that you have to take with you. Meanwhile, the super cool indie inclusion So Young But So Cold holds up the middle of the record nicely, a piano pounding way maniacally as retro dance-hall percussion clicks tirelessly away. Then there's the charming, banjo-laced Two People In A Room, featuring a stunning duet that at once nails the cutesy vibe the record seems hellbent on achieving.
Other than a handful of adventurous tracks, however, you feel like you have Couleurs Sur Paris sussed out in the first quarter of the record. Across its duration, the record presents no further challenges, content to work within an accessible enough framework. Nouvelle Vague present a pleasant enough expedition, but, overall - absent of spark or pizzazz - the Frankenstein-blend of new wave, bossanova and French post-punk somehow ends up being less exciting than it initially sounds.
