Around forty years ago Françoise Hardy titillated the world with her soothing, Yéyé-infused voice. Now, at age sixty-three, she delights once again with her new effort, Parenthèsis, a slow-swaying album of duets. To call this CD a great make-out record is an understatement. The thing simply oozes and brims with the kind of sexual tension found in the eyes of jaded night-clubbers or partakers of absinthe.
Hardy immediately dives into sexy territory with “Que reste t’il de nos amours?,” a wonderfully catchy tune sung with the worldly sounding Alain Bashung. And the scene only gets more erotic on “Modern Style,” a lounge-y, smoky number where Alain Delon and Hardy wade into Charlotte Gainsbourg territory with lots of tentative whispering.
Other gorgeous standouts include the breezy “Soleil,” “Les sediments” (any song that pings with “lalalalala” is perfect in my book), and “La Rue du Babouin” (Hardy nearly sounds like Lila Downs in this throaty number).
Despite the general coziness of the record, though, two songs jut out like enormous stars: one, a paradise of sound, the other, an inferno of regret. On “My Beautiful Demon” eerie piano reminiscent of early Nine Inch Nails wails with a gorgeousness that’s bound to make even Joan of Arc weep. On the other hand, “Partir Quand Même” might just make her tie her own damn self to the stake. Julio Iglesias’s crooning sounds boring as processed cheese, completely ruining any plausible contributions Hardy could ever bestow.
For those of you searching for something laid-back to sweat the summer along to, this CD is definitely it. Just don’t invite Julio to your Hardy Party.
