Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 25/05/09
Label: V2

No wonder they are so good at it. The French, that is. They invented it: The art of making it all look so effortless. Be it smoking, philosophising, or knocking out breezy yet sophisticated dance-to pop, they're the kings. They even came up with their own word for it; "nonchalance". Gainsbourg had it, The Teenagers have it and like their compatriots, Phoenix too have it in spades. Whether strutting on "Fences" or swooning on "Big Sun", their third outing, "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix", is easily their most assured and exquisitely realised to date.

Their basic ingredients remain intact; radio-friendly melodies, metronomic palm-muted guitar lines and balmy, soft rock keys invoking the spirit of the Strokes had they been weaned on Chicago instead of The Velvet Underground. And having collaborated with both Air and Daft Punk at their genesis, they continue their contribution to the esteemed lineage of Gallic dance-pop by recruiting one time Cassius man, Phillipe Zdar for a spanking, hyper-stylised production job.

It works a treat too. There are nods to the Ed Banger camp's piledriving take on the latest wave of French filter house in the churning bass and gleaming retro synths of "Girlfriend" and "Rome", wherein suckerpunch 8-bit drums and a shuddering lead line combine with plaintive chords to invoke a thrilling, if unlikely, marriage of Coldplay and Justice.

Aside from the incredible sonics though, Phoenix's real triumph here is successfully contorting the songs into ever more elaborate and unconventional arrangements without losing any of their classy pop impact. "Listzomania", for example is peppered with mini breakdowns and liberally truncated and elongated verses yet still feels like a freshly minted FM radio classic. Better still is killer single "1901" which doesn't even house a chorus as such, just a succession of delirious, grin-inducing plauteaus.

Only on the bloated "Love Like Sunset" do they really misfire, stretching a handful of pleasant enough studio ideas into a needless and untimely instrumental that derails a faultless opening run and piles the flab on an otherwise startlingly concise album. So concise, in fact, that when "Armistace" evaporates unceremoniously at the album's close, you'll probably just assume your iPod's run out of juice. Not so, it's nothing but a clever ruse sending you skipping right back to the start to make sure there's nothing else you've missed on this vivid, celebratory and downright fantastic record.

    by Jim Brackpool