Day 38: French Pop

Michel Polnareff
Polnareff's

Though most of it is little known in the States, French pop has cultivated a number of often exciting and occasionally brilliant exports since the dawn of the rock and roll era. From balladeers like Jacques Brel to sleaze-pop pioneers like Serge Gainsbourg, much of French pop bears the influence of cabaret--both in its sexually charged ethos and its willingness to embrace the avant-garde. Gainsbourg's lust-filled Histoire de Melody Nelson is a compulsory rock snob listen, but equally good, if not better, is the 1971 psych-pop masterpiece Polnareff's by Michel Polnareff. Polnareff's is an astounding achievement by any measure--a record that combines symphonic pop with soul and funk to form a wholly unique and compelling listening experience. Take the first track "Voyages": it sounds like the New York Philharmonic playing a blaxploitation concerto with Herbie Hancock on the keys. "Le Desert N'est Plus En Afrique," on the other hand, sounds like Jacques Brel sings the Serge Gainsbourg songbook--grand vocals and blaring trumpets over thick rhythm guitars that ooze cosmopolitan cool. "Monsieur L'Abbe," with its electronic wa-was and effects-heavy guitar solos, sounds like an aural blueprint for Stereolab's career. Truly a one-of-a-kind album, Polnareff's shows that at its finest, French pop can reach American listeners with nothing lost in translation.

Hear high quality clips of all tracks from Polnareff's at Michel's website here. Select discographie, then pick Polnareff's (third from the left) out of the lineup.