Charlotte Gainsbourg
IRM
Rating: 3.0/5.0
Because Music
Charlotte Gainsbourg has it both ways, musically speaking. Although an acclaimed actress and de facto French royalty, her credentials in the pop world are always going to be double-sided. On one hand, her famous parents duetted on some of the dirtiest tracks of the Swinging ’60s, and her string and sex infused tones are always going to suffer by comparison. On the other hand, those same paternal genes allow her access to musical partners like Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, Air and most recently, Beck.
Although credited under her name, a certain grain of salt must be taken in the latter’s case. Certainly, IRM is Gainsbourg’s album through and through, as indebted to her vocals and lyrical suggestions as anything else, but the mere fact the production and bulk of the songwriting is handled by Mr. Hansen should at least deserve something. As it is, Beck’s shadow is hard for Gainsbourg to escape. IRM is dominated largely by deep, treated percussion and heavily Serge-influenced string arrangements. Although the basic elements stay consistent throughout the album, Gainsbourg and Beck manage to stretch the boundaries of a formula to both great and poor effect.
The opening track “Master’s Hands” begins with a ghostly “Hey hey” before segueing into a breathless vocal and repetitive, buzzing guitar line. It’s the kind of sound that dominates the record, a nearly mechanical kind of sensuality that seems both studio-produced and soulful. The forthcoming single “Heaven Can Wait” is the catchiest example of their combined efforts, a percussion and piano heavy duet that includes the strangely evocative lines “You left your credentials/ In a Greyhound Station.” When they stick to this sort of thing, they do well. On the other hand, departures like “Greenwich Mean Time,” which unfortunately borders on electro and relies far too much on Gainsbourg’s fuzzy vocals don’t do nearly as much.
And that’s the most constant and damning problem with IRM; Gainsbourg’s voice is simply somewhat unremarkable. Slightly aristocratic and disaffected, she inflects to the best of her ability and carries synthesizer-driven numbers like “La Collectionneuse” well, but anything beyond a slightly bewildered, dreamy cadence goes beyond her powers. IRM’s strength lies in its songwriting and the consistency of the instrumentation, but its star struggles a little bit too much to keep up.
by Nathan Kamal
