A savoury voice, a savoury album.
Francoiz Breut is one of the reasons I began paying some attention to French pop. On A L'Aveuglette her music brings together three things: the forebrain jolt of guitar rock, an experimentalism that might prompt newcomers to think of Camille, and an atmosphere of the echo-chamber, as if the music is being played in a huge metallic space and reaching us diffusely. The early-goth moodiness of that metal echo gets roughed up by the rock. There's a nice example of the guitar throughout "Nébuleux Bonhomme", a nasty surf judder of roadside strings. In "De Fil en Aiguille (Ouvrage de Dames)" she takes the babyish tootle that sometimes appears in French music -- one of those cultural things that seems inscrutable if you're not French -- and turns it adult. Every song is different yet every song is her own. Her voice is not powerful in volume but it has a bottom-weighted fullness that makes it sound rich -- not sweetly, as honey is rich, but savoury-rich with the richness of good gravy. A savoury voice, a savoury album.