Les Clochards are a curious and deeply eccentric bunch. 'Linking Jacques Brel to Southern Soul via Gene Vincent' (apparently), they've penned a very European-sounding album with lyrics in both French and English that span subject matters ranging from parties in Oxford and 'the kids' to 'a ghost's scrumpy-addled Wiltshire lament' (huh?) and the death of Eddie Cochran on the A4 near Chippenham.
Perhaps not surprisingly, then, the sound of this, their debut album, is a curious hybrid of influences, infused with a distinctly French flavour, due in no small part to the swinging rhythms and ever-present accordion.
'Lavinia' has a rather more Latin sound, and this is continued through into second single 'Tango Borracho,' which features some outrageously offhand lyrics: 'what's this song about anyway?' singer Corinne Mateo asks in this tale of drunkenness. Co-vocalist Ian Nixon responds with a spoken word recollection of how he lost his coat, took a taxi and wound up somewhere unsavoury. It's not only a good narrative from two seemingly contrasting perspectives, but also rather amusing and nicely done.
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Not all of 'Sweet Tableux' is so clever, or so memorable, with 'Stone Angels' being corny-sounding Franco-pop and 'Demode' sounding like an outtake from Pulp's 'Different Class' sung in French. Similarly, many of the tracks drift by in a haze of red wine, cigarette smoke and down-tempo accordion. Not that that's an entirely bad thing: taken as a whole, 'Les Tableux' creates a keenly-observed soundtrack to night spent unwisely and mornings coming to in the aftermath of alcohol-induced carnage that's quite listenable even with a raging hangover.
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