Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 07/04/08
Label: Charisma/EMI

Released in 2005, Camille Dalmais' "Le Fil" won over an adoring French public and threatened to break the Paris-born singer out of her native land and across the Channel. A clutch of live appearances brought hail hosannas from some unlikely sources (Katie Melua is a fan) as did her guest spot on Nouvelle Vague's ubiquitous middle-class dinner party album and an appearance on the "Ratatouille" soundtrack.

Now, with her third album performed almost completely in English, she makes a determined play to win further hearts and minds. It's certainly titled appropriately. Previously labelled with a lazy 'Gallic Bjork' tag, "Music Hole" sees Dalmais invent her own musical world, constructing soundtracks mostly by sampling and mutating her own voice and body. That Bjork did much the same thing with 2005's "Medulla" should not be a detraction - Dalmais beats her own path and breaks her own boundaries.

The key track is "Money Note", six mins and 22 secs of vocal gymnastics, but pegged to a disco pulse as addictive as Chic, Labelle or Deee-Lite. It works on many levels: a voice experiment, a dancefloor filler and, get this you cheeky little cheese-eating surrender monkey, a stab at the vacuous pseudo soul warblings of your average American songstress. "If Dolly Parton wrote it / And Whitney Houston stole it / If Celine Dion could reach it / I'll hit the money note!" runs the hook line, ripping apart two generations of US divas while hitting a few canine notes of her own.

For sheer, breathtaking audacity, this is not an isolated moment. Opener "Gospel With No Lord" tackles the old nurture vs nature conundrum by attributing her talents firmly to family as opposed to God, while "Canards Sauvages" constructs a rhythm from a lip smack, splashing bath water and decoy whistles. It's clever, but not clever clever - always accessible and teetering with a sense of mischief. The line "Little doggy, come to mummy", is followed by generous miaow miaows and woof woofs on the hilarious "Cats And Dogs".

Elsewhere are genuine moments of tenderness. "Home Is Where It Hurts", a desolate ballad, for one; but also the atmospheric "Winter's Child" and "The Monk" where, against softly treading footsteps, all manner of operatic fireworks are ignited. But rather than bombastic, the effect is quite, quite beautiful. It doesn't all come off, of course. A recurring deep voice refrain brings to mind "Flight Of The Conchords" 'sexier' moments, and a majority will claim it's a couple of tracks too long.

But these are minor quibbles for a genuinely fearless album. It goes out on a high too, with Native American whoops and war cries punctuating the hip hop rhythms of "I Will Never Grow Up" as Camille empties the last garments from the dressing up box. "Music Hole" is a revelation and deserves the biggest audience possible. But be warned, fall into it and you could be lost for days.

    by Adam Webb