Carla Bruni

She’s got a cashmere voice and a killer body. Plays decent guitar and writes her own lyrics. Can hold her own with queens and statesmen. She. Must. Be. Stopped. At least that’s what I suspected the European critics who reviewed Carla Bruni’s "Comme si de Rien N’Etait" were thinking when they trashed it. Weren’t these the same critics who fell all over themselves when they wrote about her first album six years ago? Where’s the loyalty? It’s as if, since her marriage to Nicolas Sarkozy, the woman has reached the limit of titles a female is allowed to hold in this lifetime. Heiress, supermodel, collector of famous lovers, singer/songwriter and First Lady of France? Enough’s enough. Let the takedown begin. Like more than two million other people in France, I bought Bruni’s first album, Quelqu’un M’a Dit, purely on its own musical merit. Twelve self-strummed songs in the acoustic manouche style made popular by Django Reinhardt, it was spare, cheeky and surprisingly pleasant. Except for one cover, the intricate lyrics were Bruni’s and included provocative couplets such as "You are the glass, I am the wine/You are the grass, I am the joint" — in French, that rhymes — all sung in a smoky, soothing voice just made for grown-up lullabies. Can you tell I liked it? I am a music snob, living in a country of snobs, but have no problem admitting I thought "Quelqu’un M’a Dit" was really good. So good that part of the fun of playing it was revealing the artist when toe-tapping friends asked, "Who is that?" Naturally I was looking forward to Comme Si de Rien N’Etait, and bought it the day it was released here. Well… I have to go with the trashers on this one. "Quelqu’un M’a Dit" made good background music for just about anything, but "Comme Si de Rien N’Etait" is a chore to listen to. It’s Bruni and her extra-credit lyrics alright, but this time set to a haphazard collection of 1960s period backgrounds I imagine the producer chose in the hopes of riding the retro-pop wave launched by artists such as Amy Winehouse and Duffy. Except here, it doesn’t come off in a good way. It comes off in a bizarre, French cinema kind of way. The first track, "Ma Jeunesse", sounds as if it was recorded over a karaoke version of the Beatle’s "For No One." It’s true that an Anglophone might focus on music rather than lyrics; Bruni is known for her rapid-fire rhymes, and, though fluent in French, I still haven’t sorted them all out. But…isn’t that harmonica from "Moon River"? What’s with the Jethro Tull-ish flute riff on "Ta tienne"? The one track sung in English, a cover of Dylan’s "You Belong to Me", sounds like what you might hear in a grainy movie about, say, a former libertine who settles down with a globetrotting politician. Speaking of whom, if albums still had "A" and "B" sides, it might have been more genuine to divide "Comme si de rien n’était" into pre- and post-Sarkozy tracks. There is a palpable difference between songs such as "Tu es ma came" — which has caused the Palais d’Elysées inter-governmental embarrassment for the lines "You are my drug/ More deadly than Afghan heroin/More dangerous than Colombian white" — and the twirly "L’Amoureuse" ("The streets are gardens/I dance on the sidewalks/It seems that my arms have become wings"). (What I would find embarrassing is that "Ma came", the album’s only subversive, sexy song, couldn’t possibly have been written about her nerdy — and I say that with love; my residence card is up for renewal — new husband, not to mention the fact that it bears a passing resemblance to the acoustic version of "Layla" recorded by one of her ex-lovers.) I’m betting "Comme Si de Rien N’Etait" will be Bruni’s last album. Not that she doesn’t have the will or wherewithal to come up with another one, but let’s face it: cheeky, provocative and politically correct don’t go together. The line Madame Sarkozy must walk from here on is a creativity-killer, like telling an artist you can only use this half of the paint box. A genius might take up the challenge, but a dilettante, even a very talented one, will probably give up. Happily, our Carla has a really good day job. My recommendation: If pleasing French music with an excellent artist reveal appeals to you, skip "Comme Si de Rien N’Etait" and spring for "Quelqu’un M’a Dit". And then — for extra-credit — pretend you had it all along. — Guest Butler Amelia Smith lives, and sometimes writes, in Paris. To buy “Quelqu’un M’a Dit” from Amazon.com, click here. To buy “Comme Si de Rien N’Etait” from Amazon.com, click here. Copyright 2008 by Amelia Smith