Emily Loizeau - L'autre Bout Du Monde (2006) 320 Kbps

A handful of female French singers have made modest inroads in the States in recent years, including Francoiz Breut, Keren Ann (an Israeli based in Paris), Valérie Leulliot (ex-Autour de Lucie), and the Nouvelle Vague-series vocalists (Marina Celeste, Melanie Pain, et. al.). But their music is often informed by American traditions, sometimes blurring borders to the point that only the French language -- or a slight accent if they're singing in English, which many do -- offers any clue to their origins. That's emphatically not the case with Emily Loizeau's sparkling debut. What the French have dubbed "Le Nouvelle Scene" (The New Scene) has a roots music branch that celebrates the country's storied chanson tradition rather than turning to foreign trends, and Loizeau's record places her at the head of it. Though her lineage includes Françoise Hardy, Serge Gainsbourg, and other post-'60s artists who took cues from American jazz and pop but put a Gallic stamp on them, Loizeau's roots stretch back further, from national icons like folk poet George Brassen and Edith Piaf to Django Reinhardt. With her cabaret touches, unabashedly romantic subject matter, and clever wordplay, L'Autre Bout du Monde ("The Other Side of the World") is French by birth. This doesn't make Loizeau calcified retro by any means. She's armed with a playful and lilting voice, inventive chamber strings arrangements, and a superior sense of melody in either pop or traditional idioms. As a result, L'Autre Bout du Monde sounds timeless.

Naturally, a year or two of high school French will unveil the vernacular subtleties, as well as metaphors so fecund you can smell the Gitanes and taste the pastis. But in addition to two songs sung in English (her mother was American), Loizeau can go bilingual mid-verse: "Oh, my baby, shall we play another game/pour la reste de ma vie?" she sings on the bubbly "Boby Cheri," a flirty, Brassen-like narrative powered by walking bass and a '30s jazz tempo. On "London Town," a wistful duet with kindred soul and European labelmate Andrew Bird, the two even switch tongues, with Bird putting his French lessons to good use. But you don't need a French/English dictionary to enjoy the songs. Loizeau travels well because of her memorable melodies and vocals and arrangements whose shifting moods and nuances sound like those of a veteran, not a novice. Double bass and brushed percussion provide the rhythmic scaffolding, with Loizeau's voice and piano carrying the melodic load. The shading comes from pizzicato or bowed strings, and songs like the haunting title track, the Gypsy-hued "Comment Dire" ("How to Say"), and the lullaby "Je Ne Sais Pas Choiser" ("I Don't Know How to Choose") are chamber pop with a strong Gallic twist. Wistful ballads spotlight the classically trained Loizeau's piano skills, adding airy, Erik Satie-like reveries or playful Henri Renaud jazz touches. All these elements coalesce into transcendence on album centerpiece "Je Suis Jalouse" ("I'm Jealous"), a three-minute march with exultant choruses and rapid-fire verses that recall Piaf -- sans vocal quaver -- at her most frank and vulnerable. It's classic pop that could come from any era, and if it were sung in English, it would probably wind up in an iPod advert. The record's only misstep is "Voilà Pourquoi" ("This Is Why"), a nursery rhyme too playful by half, the toy piano and "bomp-bomp-bomp" harmonies cloying and cartoonish rather than cabaret. Will L'Autre Bout du Monde find an American audience beyond tuned-in Francophiles? It certainly deserves one, no matter what side of the world Loizeau is from. (The record will be reissued by the French label Fargo in 2008 with an additional disc of live versions and cover songs of Brassen, Neil Young, and Bob Dylan, among others.)